kv\'n-t|^'iK
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 From the collection of 
 JULIUS DCBPJTER, Chicago 
 Purchased, 1918.
 
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 CHRONICLE OF THE FERMORS : 
 
 HORACE WALPOLE IN LOVE. 
 
 By M. R MAHONY, 
 
 (MATTHEW STRADLING,) 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the MISADVENTURES OF MR. CATLYNE," "CHEAP JOHN's AUCTION. 
 " THE IRISH BAR SINISTER," ETC. 
 
 ' Ours is the banquet-song's light-hearted strain, 
 
 Roses our only laurel; 
 The progress of a love suit our campaign, 
 Our only scars the gashes that remain 
 When romping lovers quarrel." 
 
 Horace, Ode vi. {Father Prout). 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SAMPSON LOW, MAKSTON, LOW, AND SEARLE, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 
 1873. 
 
 [The right of Translation is reserved.]
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRIVTED BY W'lLLIAJI CLOWES AND SONS, 
 
 STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FAGE 
 
 The Countess Mother 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 In Arcadia ........ 16 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 Lady Sophia ........ 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 A Countermarch .42 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Some Elderly Juveniles . . . . .62 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 In which some Juveniles Embrace .... 82 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Esher .106 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Amantium Ir^ ....... 130
 
 iv Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Drifting to Wreck . . . . . .147 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Curtain Rises . . . . . .160 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Easton Neston . . . . . . . 187 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 A Watteau 222 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A Vision of Bliss 239 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A Good Samaritan . . . . . .261 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 A Disclosuee 295 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resolution . . .321
 
 % €l^xanxtk ai llje ^mnoxB. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE COUNTESS MOTHER. 
 
 Henrietta Louisa Jefferies, grand-daughter to 
 the notorious judge, daughter to John Lord 
 Jefferies his equally infamous son, and wife to 
 Thomas first Earl of Pomfret, was as enterprising 
 and also as prosperous a fine lady as ever figured 
 in the annals of the last or any other century. 
 The world was full of attractions for her ; there 
 was no avenue leading to any of its prizes into 
 which she was not eager to squeeze an entrance ; 
 and every device of her acute invention was exer- 
 cised to obtain these prizes. Often indifferent as 
 to means, the readiest instrument to hand was the 
 one she employed — no matter what, if it answered 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 A Chronicle of the Fcrinors. 
 
 her purpose — and though she was envied and 
 calumniated, and on the whole fairly detested for 
 her success, she rarely failed to secure the end she 
 had in view. 
 
 Not that she was a bad, or an unscrupulous 
 woman ; she was only a clever and a very business- 
 like one. She perceived that it was sometimes 
 necessary to lay principles aside for a season, when 
 they happened to come awkwardly in the way of 
 more important things ; but otherwise she had, on 
 principle, a profound respect for principles. She 
 would not, for instance, commit herself by telling 
 the smallest untruth if it could be avoided ; but if 
 a trifling falsehood stood in the way of an impor- 
 tant end or aim, a place about the Court say, or 
 the favour of a royal personage, then she was open 
 to temptation. It is true that she had compro- 
 mised herself by some positively questionable acts, 
 but that was unavoidable, and when she did touch 
 pitch it was invariably with such discretion as to 
 take the least possible defilement by the contact ; 
 for she was scrupulous in that respect. Next to
 
 The Countess Mother, 
 
 wealth and Court favour, she valued reputation 
 above^all things, and contrived to maintain a 
 character for genuineness and worth among her 
 friends, especially for susceptibility and for the 
 strength and durability of her attachments ; 
 although no one was more skilful in dissevering 
 old links than she, or knew better how to drop 
 worn-out friends quietly to leeward when they 
 became a clog on her prosperous progress in the 
 world. 
 
 Social prosperity was her master passion — ad- 
 vancement in the world, and for its own sake 
 only. She loved to feel herself moving on, no 
 matter in what direction so that the forward 
 movement was appreciably sustained, and her 
 perseverance, her fertility of resource, her inge- 
 nuity in pushing her fortunes were never at fault. 
 No difficulty baffled her. For example, when her 
 own personal charms began to wane she provided 
 a substitute for that leading article of woman's 
 influence by having a daughter lavishly endowed 
 with beauty. The next best thing to winning 
 
 B 2
 
 A Chronicle of the Ferniors. 
 
 the apple of Paris oneself was to keep the prize in 
 the family, and that slie did triumphantly^ Her 
 eldest daughter, Lady Sophia Fermor, the heroine 
 of our tale, was of unrivalled beauty ; and through 
 her charms Lady Pomfret obtained a large share 
 of vicarious consideration. She became the envy 
 of rival fine ladies, and enjoyed the homage of 
 enthralled fine gentlemen, who sought to approach 
 the handsome daughter by the easy method of 
 doing homage to the mother. 
 
 Again^ as " Shakspere and the musical glasses " 
 was the affectation in vogue, and that persons of 
 ton affected literature and bel esprit, the Countess 
 determined to be a learned and literary, an aesthetic 
 as well as a fine lady, and this by the shortest cut, 
 in that clever, business-like, practical way which 
 distinguished all her enterprises. With this object 
 she contrived to establish intimacies with eminent 
 men and women of letters, both at home and 
 abroad. She is the Lady Pomfret to whom so 
 many of Lady Mary Montagu's sprightly letters 
 are addressed ; to her greater honour, she was not
 
 The Coiiiitess Mother. 
 
 only the correspondent, but the valued and trusted 
 friend of Frances Countess of Hertford, the most 
 amiable and respected woman of her time ; the 
 angel and benefactress of poor Dick Savage, the 
 patroness of learning and men of letters, whose 
 portrait in Thomson's ' Spring ' we find drawn in 
 these complimentary colours : 
 
 " Hertford, fitted or to sliine in courts 
 With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
 "With innocence and meditation joined 
 In soft assemblage, listen to my song, 
 Which thy own season paints ; when nature all 
 Is blooming and benevolent like thee." 
 
 As a rule, Lady Pomfret never missed an op- 
 portunity of making a desirable or a useful ac- 
 quaintance ; with charming candour, she admits 
 herself, " born with a great desire to an innocent 
 and pleasing society ;" and it was probably in the 
 belief that the son of the powerful minister would, 
 like Lady Hertford, be an advantageous person to 
 know that she first cultivated the acquaintance of 
 Horace Walpole. Walpole was at this time in his 
 heyday : young, handsome — wit and fine gentleman
 
 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 combined — macaroni and cognoscente — already a 
 referee on questions of literature, of taste, of ton 
 — in every way a desirable appendage for a literary 
 fine lady to carry in her train. Accordingly 
 Lady Pomfret sought to attach him to herself: 
 she pursued him at first with an eagerness only 
 equalled by her subsequent anxiety to end the 
 acquaintanceship, when the position of affairs had 
 altered and circumstances made his friendship an 
 obstacle to her ambition. At one time she was all 
 admiration for Walpole's dilettante performances, 
 but afterwards she disputed his reputation and 
 pretensions, tittered at his verses, sneered at his 
 conundrums, endeavoured to erect a sort of party 
 against him, and in the end managed to secure his 
 undying hostility. We shall see, however, that he 
 squared accounts with her in the end, and in truth it 
 was an unlucky accident for the Countess' literary 
 reputation that they should ever have met. 
 
 From being the correspondent and associate of 
 literary celebrities of her own sex, constantly 
 receiving epigrammatic notes from Mary
 
 The Countess Mother. 
 
 Montagu, and herself compiling voluminous 
 epistles every week for Lady Hertford, she gradu- 
 ally acquired a dangerous facility with her pen. 
 This was her " Epistolary style," an accomplish- 
 ment of which she was most vain, and concerning 
 whicli she was always ready to absorb the strongest 
 doses of the coarsest flattery. 
 
 Lady Mary Montagu, at this time in a mood to 
 be pleased with anything appertaining to the 
 Countess, writes to her on the merits of this style : 
 
 " Mrs. Bridgeman is much pleased with a 
 letter she has had the honour to receive from your 
 ladyship ; she broke out, ' Really Lady Pomfret 
 writes finely! I very readily joined in her 
 opinion. She continued^ 'Oh, so neat, no inter- 
 lineations, and such proper distances' This manner 
 of praising your style made me reflect on the 
 necessity of attention to trifles, if one would please 
 in general." 
 
 Again : 
 
 " Yesterday was very fortunate to me ; it 
 brought me two of your ladyship's letters. I will
 
 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 not S23eak my thoughts of them, but must insist, 
 once for all, that you lay aside all those phrases of 
 tiring me, ashamed of your dullness, &c. &c. I 
 cannot help, when I read them, either doubt- 
 ing your -sincerity, or fearing you have a worse 
 opinion of my judgment than I desire you should 
 have. Spare me these disagreeable reflections, 
 and be assured, if I hated you_, I should read your 
 letters with pleasure, and that I love you enough 
 to be charmed with hearing from you, though you 
 knew not how to spell." 
 
 Walpole insists that the correspondents of 
 Lady Pom fret had much to contend with, and 
 that doubtful spelling was not the only defect of 
 her famous Epistolary style : he records her 
 astonishment on learning that Italian had verbs 
 like English, and as illustrating the literary status 
 of her friends, quotes a sentence from Madame 
 Goldsworthy, " As words is what I have not rhetoric 
 to fund out to tell you'' Madame Goldsworthy was 
 another favourite correspondent of the Countess. 
 
 With a large discount for personal dislike, there
 
 The Countess Mother. 
 
 is little doubt that Walpole's criticism was in some 
 respects well grounded, for the grammar and ortho- 
 graphy of these letters is often as original and 
 peculiar as the sentiment and matter of them are 
 invariably trite and commonplace. The Countess 
 had from nature a solid gift of intellectual 
 obtuseness, and her want of literary perception 
 was not supplemented by reading or culture of any 
 kind ; nevertheless^ as to write was fashionable, 
 she acquired an appetite for authorship, and 
 gratified it by publishing a translation of Froissart's 
 Chronicles ; moreover, she actually wrote, or rather 
 half wrote, a Life of Yandyck, — for it was never 
 finished. This was the measure of her literary 
 success, but it was sufficient for her ambition. 
 
 The mere fact of authorship conferred a certain 
 right of itself to pronounce on matters of taste and 
 belles-lettres, and to enjoy the exercise of this 
 prerogative she gave refined conversazioni and 
 thin intellectual teas, where many tame lions of 
 the town were occasionally to be found, well-bred 
 geniuses and celebrities, whether genuine or mock,
 
 I o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 with here and there a tatterdemalion poet, or a 
 dramatist unknown to fame, scattered througli the 
 crowd of mincing fine ladies and modish men of 
 taste. 
 
 At these assemblies my lady appeared dressed 
 in proper character, splendid in jewels and finery, 
 the rouge and powder, like her comely airs and 
 affectations, laid on with an unsparing hand ; her 
 obstinate embonpoint, and her energy of manner^ 
 laced down into awkward slimness and uneasy 
 repose. A patronising hostess, yet the tone of her 
 patronage, like the satin of her amber-flamed 
 petticoat, too obviously fine. A Pompadour 
 Dresden figure — rather imitation Pompadour in 
 coarser china. The boudoir table strewn with 
 objects of taste and works of art ; handsome 
 copies of the Froissart and Tandy ck lying around, 
 on every side ; beaux ogling and bending ; bo- 
 hemians cringing ; Walpole perhaps making a face 
 behind her chair, or whispering her last escapade 
 in grammar into the ear of George Montagu — it 
 was a picture for Hogarth.
 
 The Countess Mother, 1 1 
 
 Lady Pomfret's attempts at authorship were, 
 however, but by way of refined pastime to utilize 
 intervals of leisure, and fill in the interstices of an 
 active business life — the motive of her existence was, 
 as we have said,, to rise in the world ; to obtain 
 all the wealth, honour, profit, and consideration 
 within her reach ; and for this she spared no 
 labour, was stayed by no impediment, nor daunted 
 by any personal disqualifications, however extreme. 
 She altered everything to suit her purposes ; she 
 even altered her ancestors ; and, as fortune had 
 been unkind to her in the matter of pedigree, she 
 undertook even to remodel that. Cursed both 
 by father and grandfather with as bad a paren- 
 age as any noble lady in England need blush to 
 own, she nevertheless inherited a maternal strain 
 of good Herbert blood, and with this antidote she 
 managed to neutralize the poison of the Jefferies 
 descent. Persons employed in the Heralds' OfSce 
 were found willing enough to aid in the operation, 
 and she trafficked with them to such good purpose 
 that, under the authority of the seal of that in-
 
 12 A Chronicle of the Fcrmors. 
 
 stitution, slie ultimately obtained a new pedigree, 
 which made herself and Lord Pomfret severally 
 descend from Edward III. by his two queens. 
 People scoffed at her pretensions, but she stoutly 
 persevered in them, and in the end sufficiently 
 established her claims to royal descent. Lucky op- 
 portunities of advancement came in the way after- 
 wards, and she utilized them all. Being Lady of 
 the Bedchamber to Caroline, queen of George II., 
 she worked on the favour of her royal mistress 
 so well, and made such interest with statesmen of 
 influence about the Court, that her husband was 
 raised from the barony of Lempster to the earldom 
 of Pomfret : this was shortly after her marriage. 
 In less than two years she had turned her meek, 
 incapable, unaspiring, henpecked husband into a 
 full-fledged earl. It was her own unaided achieve- 
 ment, and she was pardonably vain of it : '' my 
 earl," ^' my own creation," as she loved to repeat. 
 Followed further successes and promotions. She 
 was always ready for a chance, and invariably 
 contrived to keep on the sunny side of the wall,
 
 The Co7intess Mother. 13 
 
 however the wind blew. When, for instance, 
 a vacancy occurred in the household of the 
 queen, the Countess brought down the appoint- 
 ment to her own gun from amongst a host of 
 competitors, and behold, to the consternation and 
 envy of everybody, " my earl " becomes Master of 
 the Horse to her Majesty. This last rise gave 
 scope to evil tongues ; slander whispered that her 
 Ladyship had not played quite fair in the trans- 
 action, and that the appointment was won by 
 certain operations, more clever than discreet ; 
 something even beyond a mere exercise of boudoir- 
 craft. People spoke very freely of Lady Sundon in 
 connection with the affair. Lady Sundon was at 
 this time prime favourite with the queen, and, 
 besides, on intimate terms with our Countess ; and 
 though Lady Sundon never took money, and was 
 quite above accepting an open bribe, still Lady 
 Pomfret, to testify her esteem for the favourite, 
 presented her, out of dear regard, with a most 
 becoming pair of diamond earrings, worth good 
 fourteen hundred pounds of British money. It
 
 14 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 was munificent, and moreover a very hazardous 
 stroke of business ; but " the earrings " happened 
 to be much wanted, and Lady Pomfret possessed a 
 rare aptitude for hicky mercantile operations ; with 
 a special instinct for doiug things at the proper 
 moment. This well-invested fourteen hundred 
 pounds was ultimately repaid with usurious 
 interest, for on the death of Queen Caroline, 
 the Earl and Countess of Pomfret, with all the 
 rest of her Majesty's household, were, according 
 to custom, handsomely pensioned for life ; and it 
 is from this point that the reader's attention is 
 especially invited to this narrative. 
 
 The queen died in 1737, the year after the 
 marriage of the Prince of Wales. Lord and Lady 
 Pomfret being thus thrown out of office, relieved 
 from all attendance at Court, and presumably 
 having nothing further to hope for under the new 
 dynasty, decided to emigrate for a season to the 
 Continent. There was a group of beautiful 
 daughters to educate for the London market, a 
 fast son to be lured away from the vice and
 
 The Cottntess Mother. 1 5 
 
 extravagance of the town, and, besides, the world 
 was to be seen and enjoyed ; first in Paris, where 
 the family rested an entire twelvemonth ; after- 
 wards in Eome, Naples, Florence. But if the 
 Countess arranged to allow herself a well-earned 
 holiday from court intrigue, she by no means 
 intended to eat the bread of idleness while abroad ; 
 her business eye was never closed ; wherever she 
 appears on the Continent we see her indefatigable 
 in the labours of society, seeing sights, attending 
 petty levees, and working heaven and earth to 
 make desirable acquaintances for herself and her 
 brood.
 
 1 6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 IN ARCADIA. 
 
 In 1740 three - years after their departure from 
 England, we find the Pomfrets after many wander- 
 ings definitively fixed at the Palazzo Ridolfi, one 
 of the most picturesque residences in Florence. 
 
 The Palazzo possessed some architectural features, 
 a few good pictures, and a gallery in fresco ; but 
 its principal attractions were, first, its situation 
 on the Arno, in the midst of a country as green 
 and well wooded as England ; and next, its gardens, 
 which for their beauty and extent were already 
 famous throughout Italy. 
 
 " It is literally an Arcadia here," writes Lady 
 Pomfret to her friend Frances of Hertford. ** Wher- 
 ever we turn new beauties are to be found. There 
 are public gardens which we frequent in the after-
 
 /;/ Arcadia. 17 
 
 noons and enjoy amazingly, and from the 
 windows of our bouse we have a view of the 
 citizen folk and common people on Sundays and 
 fete days, making holiday on the opposite bank 
 of the river." 
 
 Here it was that, fatigued with change, and 
 allured by the comfort and elegance of the resi- 
 dence, the Countess decided on dwelling for a 
 season. 
 
 The locality was found to suit her in every 
 respect, for in addition to the picturesque charms 
 of the neighbourhood, Florence itself was crowded 
 with strangers, and society there largely composed 
 of travelling English, which at that period of 
 costly locomotion meant the cream of London — 
 all that was best in the items of birth and wealth, 
 talent or celebrity. The Countess discovered that 
 with travelling English the Lung' Arno was 
 peopled, and the pleasures of Arcadia became 
 accordingly enhanced. She was at once in her 
 own element, both on the side of literature as well 
 as fashion. Mary Montagu, with all her faculties 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 undimmed, was to be gossiped with every day. 
 Lady Mary was no longer young ; nor, indeed, 
 very charming either, if Walpole is to be trusted, 
 who portrays some of these learned personages in 
 his Florentine letters of the time : 
 
 '^ On Wednesday," he writes, " we expect a 
 third she meteor. Those learned luminaries, the 
 Ladies Pomfret and Walpole, are to be joined by 
 the Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. You have not 
 been witness to the rhapsody of mystic nonsense 
 which these two fair ones debate incessantly, and 
 consequently cannot figure w4iat must be the issue 
 of this triple alliance. Only figure the coalition of 
 prudery, debauchery, sentiment, history^ Grreek, 
 Latin, French, Italian, and metaphysics ; all 
 except the second understood by halves, by 
 quarters, or not at all. You shall have the journals 
 of this notable academy. Adieu." 
 
 Again : 
 
 • " Did I tell you Lady Mary Wortley is here? 
 She laughs at my Lady Walpole, scolds my Lady 
 Pomfret, and is laughed at by the whole town.
 
 In Arcadia. 19 
 
 Her dress, her avarice, and her impudence must 
 amaze any one that ever heard her name. She 
 wears a foul mob, that does not cover her greasy 
 black locks, that hang loose, never combed or 
 curled ; an old mazarine blue wrapper, that gapes 
 
 open and discovers a canvas petticoat. Her 
 
 face partly covered with plaster, and partly with 
 white paint, which for cheapness she has bought 
 so coarse that you would not use it to wash a 
 chimney. In three words I will give you her 
 picture as we drew it in the ' sortes Virgilianse ' : 
 
 ' Insanam vatem aspicies.' 
 
 I give you my honour we did not choose it." 
 
 Here is another morsel : 
 
 " As for the Academy, I am not of it, but 
 frequently in company with it ; 'tis all disjointed. 
 Madam * * * (Lady Pomfret), who, though a 
 learned lady, has not lost her modesty and cha- 
 racter, is extremely scandalized with the other two 
 dames, especially with Moll Worthless, who knows 
 no bounds. She is at rivalry with Lady Walpole 
 
 c 2
 
 20 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 for a Mr. , whom perhaps you knew at Oxford. 
 
 Lady Mary is so far gone, that to get him from 
 the mouth of her antagonist she literally took 
 him out last night to dance country, dances at 
 a formal ball, where there was no measure kept in 
 laughing at her old, foul, tawdry, plastered person- 
 age. She played at pharaoh two or three times at 
 Princess Craon's, where she cheats horse and foot. 
 She is really entertaining. I have been reading 
 her works, which she lends out in manuscript ; 
 but they are too womanish. I like few of her 
 performances. I forgot to tell you a good answer 
 
 of Lady Pomfret's to Mr. , who asked her 
 
 if she did not approve Platonic love ? ' Lord, sir,' 
 says she, ' I am sure any one that knows me 
 never heard that I had any love but one ; and 
 there sit two proofs of it ' — pointing to her two 
 daughters." 
 
 Besides these ladies, there were Walpole's 
 travelling companions, Spence the poet, and the 
 young Earl of Lincoln ; also Gray the poet, whose 
 proud and sensitive nature could brook no slight,
 
 In Ai'cadia. ai 
 
 and witli whom Walpole himself quarrelled so 
 violently afterwards. 
 
 These were all clever well-bred young men 
 of pleasure ; but of the group Lord Lincoln was 
 the central figure, nephew and heir to the Duke of 
 Newcastle, and therefore, in a matrimonial sense, 
 one of the most desirable young gentlemen in 
 Europe. Lady Pomfret readily approved of his 
 appearance and manners, and was naturally not 
 displeased at the opportunity of making his early 
 acquaintance. From the date of his arrival the 
 attractions of the residence were enhanced by 
 a variety of amusements projected in his honour. 
 
 There were garden parties, and pleasant after- 
 noon excursions to picturesque hamlets, to banquet 
 on fresh plucked fruits. Unceremonious expedi- 
 tions, where Walpole, Spence, and young Earl 
 Lincoln went as members of the family. Also 
 visits to ruins in the environs, where the learned 
 Countess had opportunities of ventilating her 
 artistic sympathies, and displayed her knowledge 
 of classical architecture, by delivering oracular
 
 22 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 lectures on sculptured fragments. Picture galleries 
 were inspected in the same critical spirit, and 
 Titian condemned for his want of chiaroscuro 
 and sentiment, and general inferiority to the great 
 master Sir Antonio Yandyck, whose biography 
 the Countess had written. She declared that 
 Yandyck was the one Ionic pillar supporting 
 the temple of Art. On either hand the coarser 
 Doric and florid Corinthian column was common 
 enough, but the Fleming alone possessed the 
 qualities of grace, strength, and simplicity, com- 
 bined in justly balanced parts. This in the 
 dogmatic tone that always convinced the silent 
 auditory, in which Walpole stood a dutiful and 
 attentive listener. 
 
 Lady Pomfret had also formed opinions on the 
 Italian muse. She favoured Mr. Spence with an 
 analysis of the terza rima of Dante, whom she pre- 
 ferred to Petrarch, who had written both canzoni 
 and sonetti, which she explained were not at all 
 the same thing as so many people supposed. But 
 beyond either Dante or Laura's lover, the patriotic
 
 In Arcadia. 
 
 23 
 
 poet Filicaia had won her approval, chiefly, as it 
 turned out, because of the touching line — 
 
 " Dono infelice di bellezza ;" 
 
 which, with a tearful air, the Countess said 
 always made her think of her daughter Sophia, 
 and tremble for her future. 
 
 However, Lady Pomfret did not employ all her 
 time in art and literature, or the delights of art- 
 less friendship, though she had confined herself 
 at first to giving quiet and select parties, at which 
 only Lord Lincoln and his friends, and the best of 
 the English set were present. But extending her 
 wings more and more by degrees, she ended in 
 grand entertainments, to which all the good Flor- 
 entine families were invited, and so throngs of 
 fashionable people assembled in the frescoed gallery, 
 and the Palazzo became famous. We find it referred 
 to in contemporary letters home as the most fre- 
 quented and brilliant salon of the light-hearted 
 Tuscan capital. 
 
 The Countess accordingly grew to be a very
 
 24 A Chronicle of the Fermo7^s. 
 
 important personage without miicli trouble. All her 
 tastes were gratified, life in Florence became scarcely 
 less exciting than in London itself; and owing 
 to peculiar circumstances, was far more interest- 
 ing. What wonder if in a short time Lady Pomfret 
 discovered that her proper insular contempt for 
 continental society had relaxed in favour of those 
 useful foreigners, who were now merely acting the 
 part of a necessary chorus to that opera in real life 
 of which Lord Lincoln and her daughter were 
 filling the leading parts of jeune premier and 
 soprano ? And how gracefully the performance 
 commenced under that azure sky of Italy, the 
 heaven of Romeo and Juliet. These Arcadian 
 bowers, how sweetly they framed in the living 
 picture ! What becoming scenery they made ! it 
 was enchantment ! All the stage properties were 
 perfect. And oh — how sweetly Eomeo sang, and 
 how bright and joyous the peerless Juliet ! As yet 
 no swords of Capulet or Montague were clashed to 
 startle the coy seraph happiness, hovering above 
 the youthful pair. We are at the first act only ;
 
 In Arcadia. 25 
 
 the fiddling of tlie orcliestra is soft and melodious, 
 dreamlike as the murmuring of distant harp- 
 strings ; the young leaves are out and the roses 
 budding, and life is long and hope is strong, and 
 love — love is immortal, its smooth course flows on 
 without a ripple ; and the fond maternal bosom 
 glows with the hope of anticipated capture as the 
 great matrimonial prize comes swimming farther 
 into the shoal water, sniffing unsuspiciously at the 
 corks and meshes of the hungry family bag-net 
 treacherously spread for him under the surface. 
 
 Yet the action of the drama moves on quietly, 
 without sensational scenes, but with such growing 
 effect that the interest becomes painful at last. It 
 is not always young people only who are most 
 interested by the incidents and progress of a love 
 suit. Many a sleepless night had the Countess 
 mother, from her wakeful pillow watching the 
 starry Tuscan heavens pale into the dawn ; and when 
 the day came it was still in delicious dreamland, the 
 present was filled with promise, and the future all 
 bright with hope. Yet the anticipated fortune was
 
 i6 A Chro7iicle of the Fermors. 
 
 so great, that it dazzled as well as inflamed her 
 imagination — quenched while it stimulated desire, 
 even the very thought of the coveted title op- 
 pressed her. 
 
 Mother to the Duchess of Newcastle — mother-in- 
 law to the Duke f It was so much — could it ever he ? 
 was it safe at all to reckon on the possibility of 
 such a stupendous achievement as that ? Never 
 was woman alive better constituted to enjoy all the 
 sweets and privileges of such a dear maternity-in- 
 law ; and if, on the other hand, Providence held 
 such a relationship in store for Lord Lincoln, it 
 was probably by way of merciful compensation, as a 
 wholesome tonic added to the mingled sweets of his 
 cup of fortune, and that was already overflowing. 
 
 He had been early adopted by his uncle, the 
 Duke of Newcastle. The duke was the greatest 
 man in England in his own opinion, and in that 
 of all the powerful Pelham faction and of their 
 numerous flock of political followers. 
 
 Moreover, Lincoln was rich in all those personal 
 gifts and graces which, in the estimation of a
 
 hi Arcadia. 
 
 27 
 
 manoeuvrmg matron, invariably accompany dis- 
 tinguished birth and ample fortune. Well-bred and 
 amiable, gifted by nature both in mind and person, 
 the Countess would, in fact, have preferred him less 
 perfect in every way, as he would then have ap- 
 peared less out of her reach. It was like having 
 honey for sauce to sugar, that a man so favoured 
 by fortune should also be endowed with personal 
 advantages which would have rendered him esti- 
 mable without a shilling. The Countess was 
 clear-sighted as to the position of affairs, and did 
 not deceive herself as to the difficulties of the enter- 
 prise. To attain to so lofty a perch as the dukedom 
 would require skill and enterprise, aided by good 
 luck ; besides, there were positive impediments in 
 the way, enough of them to cause a less resolute 
 nature to reflect : but Lady Pomfret was not one to 
 turn her face from an obstacle, or avoid taking the 
 chance of an honest stumble coming in a fair way 
 of business. 
 
 If, in an occasional fit of despondency, the prize 
 seemed beyond attainment, there were brighter
 
 28 A Chronicle of the Fermoi's. 
 
 moments when the ripening beauty of her 
 daughter, Lady Sophia, filled her with a delicious 
 surprise, and Lord Lincoln's evident appreciation 
 of it, with confidence and renewed hope. After 
 all, superior beings of finer clay, heirs to ducal 
 fortunes, married, as a rule, much like earthenware 
 mortals. Why might it not be Lincoln's fate to 
 marry well, and select early ? In fact, a wife was 
 the only blessing which it seemed possible to add to 
 his singularly favoured lot. And if the stars willed 
 that he should lose his bachelor liberty, and find 
 an early happiness now in Florence, who would not 
 envjT- him ? What if it did happen ? By-and-by, 
 when he arrived at the fulness of all his honours, he 
 might, in any case, present his wife to the criticism 
 of the world, and fearlessly challenge Europe round 
 to produce another duchess her peer.
 
 ( ^-9 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LADY SOPHIA. 
 
 Though female loveliness was by no means rare in 
 tlie last century, and the Court of George II. was 
 especially distinguished for the beauty of its maids 
 of honour, there is abundant evidence to show that 
 Lady Sophia Fermor surpassed all competitors. 
 
 At her appearance in the world she became the 
 attraction of the season, the envy of rival belles 
 and despair of fashionable mothers. The greatest 
 people at Court, the king himself, was on the list 
 of her admirers. She is mixed up in the famous 
 gossip of the time, and her name occurs frequently 
 in that compendious tattling correspondence which 
 has come down to us. 
 
 Her figure was alike graceful^and majestic ; her 
 features delicate yet perfect, and full in outline ; the
 
 30 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 face beaming with vivacity and expression : her 
 hair a dark auburn, ripphng with Hglits ; and her 
 eyes of that deep lustrous blue always allied with 
 rare intelligence, which was in her case developed 
 by careful and elaborate culture. 
 
 Contemporary writers sound a common note of 
 admiration on this theme. The beauty of her 
 person, the perfection of her mind, the rarity of her 
 natural gifts, the range of her accomplishments — 
 they are never done sounding her praises. Even the 
 hereditary beauty of the Fermors was surpassed 
 in her ; and the strain of beauty running in the 
 Fermor blood was already famous ; it had been 
 celebrated in song. A direct ancestress, Mistress 
 Arabella Fermor, was the heroine of the * Rape of 
 the Lock,' and Pope has left her portrait in the 
 well-known lines : 
 
 " Ou her white breast a sparkling cross she wore 
 Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore ; 
 Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, 
 Quick as her eyes and as unfixed as those : 
 Favours to none, to all she smiles extends ; 
 Oft she objects, but never once offends.
 
 Lady Sophia, 31 
 
 Bright as tlie sun, her eyes the gazers strike, 
 And like the sun they shine on all alike : 
 Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, 
 Might hide her faults, if belles have faults to hide. 
 If to her shame some female errors fall. 
 Look on her face and you'll forget them all." 
 
 But Mistress Arabella never obtained the uni- 
 versal admiration wliich saluted Lady So]3liia on 
 her appearance in the world. Although, strictly 
 speaking, she made her debut in society at Florence, 
 she had been seen some years before, when only 
 fourteen years of age, at the Enghsh Court, as 
 one of the four maids who carried the bride's train 
 at the marriage of Frederick Prince of Wales with 
 the Princess Augusta of Saxe-Gotha. The other 
 train-bearers were the Ladies Caroline Lennox, 
 Caroline Fitzroy, Caroline Cavendish, respectively 
 daughters to the Dukes of Richmond, Grrafton and 
 Devonshire. Each maid wore jewels to the value 
 of thirty thousand pounds, and was dressed in 
 robes of cloth of silver. They were all four 
 renowned beauties, and selected because of their 
 beauty to grace the royal nuptials ; but the youth-
 
 32 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 ful Lady Sophia Fermor was declared to have 
 outshone them alL At the period of our narra- 
 tive society at Florence seemed to have lost its 
 senses about her. She excelled all models of female 
 loveliness v^hich the Italians had ever seen. The 
 most extravagant compliments were paid her. 
 People went wild — crowded in public places to see 
 her pass by. One gifted Italian noblemen twisted 
 all his wits away writing sonnets in her praise. 
 And the English appeared to be nearly as bad as 
 the Italians. All the letters home of this period 
 are filled with the subject. Lady Mary Montagu, 
 in her correspondence with Mr. Montagu, says : — 
 " Lady Sophia Fermor has few equals in beauty 
 and grace. I shall never be surprised at her 
 conquests. I take great pleasure in being the 
 spectatress of her triumphs : she so far outshines 
 all Florentine beauties that none of them dare 
 appear before her, yet I assure you her beauty is 
 her least merit." 
 
 Walpole himself was one of the earliest victims 
 of her charms. He chronicles the splendours of
 
 Lady Sophia, 33 
 
 her beauty in every allusion to the Pomfrets at 
 this time, his letters teem with panegyrics, she was 
 faultless in his eyes. He makes no secret either of 
 his admiration or of his feelings towards her, and 
 is never done lamenting that a creature so perfect 
 
 should be the child of such a mother. Walpole 
 quickly perceived the maternal hopes which Lord 
 Lincoln's arrival had already excited, and his sen- 
 tences are never so elaborately pointed as when 
 dwelling upon them : he delights in ridicuHng the 
 Countess in every way, in exhibiting her absurdity, 
 and her intrigues. But he likewise very clearly 
 exposes his own bitterness at the manifest en- 
 couragement accorded to a successful rival. Mr. 
 War burton, it is true, affirms that Lady Charlotte 
 Fermor, the younger sister, was the object of his 
 passion ; but no student of his letters can doubt 
 that it was Lady Sophia, alone. During the whole 
 of his long life he never seems to have had a 
 genuine attachment for any other woman ; and up 
 to her marriage, or after it — ay, or even after her 
 death — never to have lost his inclination for her. 
 
 VOL. I D
 
 34 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 It is pleasant to picture the supercilious hyper- 
 critical Horace caught like a schoolboy in a warm 
 fit of genuine first love ; undergoing the hot and 
 cold of passion, the pangs of jealousy, or else 
 plotting and intriguing to circumvent his more 
 fortunate friend. How maliciously he must have 
 laboured at first to tangle up the angling tackle of 
 the aspiring Countess, while objurgating his fate and 
 his stars, in moody rides along the Cascine, or in 
 moonlight saunterings by the wooded Arno ! One 
 sees the hypocritical change of his manner towards 
 the Countess, also his careful abstinence from the 
 old habits of ridicule, his charitable blindness to her 
 grammar, his attention to her literary reminiscences 
 as well as to her discourses on the chiaroscuro and 
 modelling of Yandyck, the compliments to her dis- 
 cernment, the flattery, the venal applause. What 
 a pleasant Arcadia it must have been, what a happy 
 time for the Countess, with the heir to the Duchy 
 of Newcastle, the first match in England, making 
 love to her daughter, and Walpole, son of the great 
 minister, the most accomplished gentleman of note
 
 Lady Sophia. 35 
 
 in Europe, making love to herself ! How smoothly 
 life must have gone on then ! What soothing 
 interior harmony underlying the brilliant exterior 
 bustle of the household, until the hour when its 
 mistress first perceived the real state of affairs, and 
 scented a taint on the breath of this sly Horatian 
 flattery ! 
 
 But the discovery came at last, with all the sud- 
 denness of a surprise. Fanc}^ the first dawnings of 
 a humiliating suspicion ; then the clear perception 
 that, with all her marvellous business talents, she 
 was being outwitted, outmanoeuvred, by a fledgling 
 petit-maitre like Walpole. She who had secured 
 sinecures and pensions, presented diamond ear- 
 rings, created an earldom, appointed a Master of 
 tlie Horse — who^ in despite of grammar and a sin- 
 cere ignorance, had usurped a learned reputation, 
 and had come to regard success as the rule in all 
 her speculations — that she should be balked in a 
 matter so peculiarly her own as a matchmaking 
 enterprise, and by a conceited stripling ! 
 
 Imagine the shock to her vanity, the feelings 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 of her mundane maternity outraged, alarmed; 
 then the consciousness of real danger from 
 her daughters possible susceptibility to the 
 many fascinations of tlie accomplished Horace ! 
 Imagine the ire which this enkindled, the com- 
 motion in the Palazzo which followed from it! 
 One sees the round, rouged, comely face pucker- 
 ing into anxieties ; the high-pitched treble of 
 her anger rings in our ears. How she must 
 have raged and banged the doors, and shrilled at 
 Sophia, and rated in broad English before " my 
 Earl," and in execrable Italian at the scared native 
 menials. The Countess had not the faculty of 
 holding herself in when under strong excitement ; 
 notwithstanding her habits of intrigue, she had 
 little power of self-restraint. Interior disturbance 
 was immediately followed by a visible eruption 
 of temper, and in her angry moods there was 
 little interval of time between the lightning 
 and the thunder-clap. 
 
 It is therefore probable that at the moment she 
 committed herself in some positive way with
 
 Lady Sophia, ^7 
 
 Walpole. How, we do not know ; what passed 
 between them is a matter of conjecure only ; but it 
 is certain that he suddenly abdicated the position of 
 an admirer of Lady Sophia, and left Lord Lincoln 
 alone in the field. There was no open rupture ; 
 Walpole continued apparently as intimate as ever 
 with the family ; but he was finally out of competi- 
 tion for the favour of Lady Sophia. Perhaps 
 this was in deference to the expostulation of the 
 Oountess_, or perhaps in despair, at recognising that 
 he could have no chance with his paltry sinecure 
 of two thousand pounds a year against the ducal 
 expectations of his rival, or perhaps it was out of 
 revenge that he retired from the contest, because 
 of the private affairs of Lord Lincoln, of which he 
 alone was in the secret. For there was a secret. 
 Lincoln was an engaged man, and Walpole knew 
 it. Before starting on his foreign tour the young 
 earl had gone down to Esher, the seat of his uncle, 
 Henry Pelham, to comply with a family arrange- 
 ment by which the wealth of the Pelhams, united to 
 the title of Newcastle, should vest in his person ;
 
 38 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 and he had left Esher engaged to his cousin, the 
 heiress Catherine Pelham — a lady by no means 
 wanting in personal attractions or in graces of 
 mind and disposition, and who had been brought 
 up to consider the handsome Lincoln as her 
 affianced husband, and was not inclined to quarrel 
 with her fate. 
 
 Yet Lincoln behaved like a free man ; possibly 
 he was led by degrees into the meshes of the net 
 in which he found himself swiftly and unwittingly 
 entangled. A spirit of emulation or of vanity, or 
 an irresistible attraction, or mere indolence^ may 
 have led him to pay attention to Lady Sophia at 
 first ; but he soon accepted a recognised position 
 beside her, moving step after step farther on into 
 the dim twilights of the charming pays du tendre, 
 plucking the lotos in those fragrant orange 
 bowers, dreaming nights and days away in bliss- 
 ful forgetfulness of his pledges and his fate 
 and of the consequences to follow from his 
 treachery. 
 
 It was a false game all through. Lincoln held
 
 Lady Sophia. qq 
 
 his winning hand only by playing with cogged 
 dice ; and Walpole, standing by, was aware of the 
 cheat. 
 
 How the knowledge of it must have buoyed up 
 the youthful cynic, and fed the hungry jealousy 
 that devoured him I 
 
 One sees him lounging apart on the balcony of 
 the Eidolfi, a thin smile curving his firm lips, a 
 metallic glitter in the cold hard eyes as they fol- 
 lowed the movements of the lovers loitering in the 
 garden beneath. 
 
 He could already see the end of that happy 
 and prosperous wooing. Blessed as the pair were 
 with wealth and beauty, and love to crown the 
 union, they too — the paragon and the peer — should 
 reap only a heart-break for harvest ; the flames of 
 this budding passion would be quenched in sighs 
 and sorrow and die out in ashes like his own. 
 How he hugged the thought of it ! 
 
 Yet Lincoln was going very far. Rumour 
 caught up the affair, and made its own of it ; 
 details of the courtship found their way into the
 
 40 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 gossiping letters which were sent to England ; the 
 young earl became the subject of the praises of all 
 those of whom he was not the ^xv^j. His person and 
 his manners were commended ; he was not only 
 remarkable for his sense and ability, but even for 
 his dancing ; and in the last century this accom- 
 phshment was of great importance in the educa- 
 tion of a gentleman ; even in the progress of this 
 courtship it marked an epoch. For at a state 
 ball given by the British ambassador at Florence, 
 Lord Lincoln especially distinguished himself in 
 this way. Lady Sophia Fermor and my lord 
 executed a famous minuet together amidst a press 
 of surrounding spectators, who were already begin- 
 ning to whisper that the handsome couple were 
 engaged. 
 
 Walpole, who was in this circle of admirers, was 
 very witty and sarcastic at his friend's excellent 
 performance, and delivered many an ironical 
 encomium on the young earl's successful capering. 
 "What a pleasant scene it must have been for him ! 
 How thoroughly he enjoyed himself on that night
 
 Lady Sophia, 41 
 
 of the embassy ball ! What a genial light on his 
 long face ! how brilliant and talkative he was ! 
 how gay, how polite his replies to the reiterated 
 inquiries regarding the presumed prospects of his 
 handsome friend. How cordially he responded to 
 the good wishes of which Lady Sophia Fermor 
 and Lord Lincoln were jointly the object !
 
 42 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 A COUiS^TERMARCH. 
 
 A THUNDERBOLT bursts Suddenly in the blue firma- 
 ment over the Palazzo Ridolfi. Lincoln receives 
 a letter from England ordering him home. 
 
 Rumours concerning the Pomfrets had perhaps 
 reached the Duke of Newcastle's ears, and shrewd 
 enough to scent out danger of that treacherous 
 kind, he writes peremptorily to his nephew 
 " to finish his idleness and his tour, and return 
 to England forthwith." There were special 
 reasons for it, and these were artfully put forward 
 in a flattering form. 
 
 His letter explained that a favourable juncture 
 in politics offered Lincoln an opportunity of taking 
 an active part in Parliament. On that account, 
 the duke desired his assistance in the House ; he
 
 A Countermarch. 43 
 
 required it even, especially as there was likelihood 
 of a crisis, and if the Pelhams came into power 
 Lincoln was to be made Irish Secretary. This 
 was very flattering. That appointment was then 
 as now,'] the first step on the upper degrees of 
 the Treasury ladder ; and no special gifts of states- 
 manship, nor capacity, nor knowledge of the 
 perplexing sister island was expected from the 
 
 man in whose hands its government was placed 
 
 exactly as at present, when to be ignorant, super- 
 cilious^ and dull, appear to be among the qualifica- 
 tions for administering that critical office. 
 
 Besides, family affairs, as well as politics, de- 
 manded his return : the duke explained what these 
 were by adding that they were impatient to see him 
 at Esher — Henry Pelham's place ; and hinted that, 
 as everything was prepared for it, Lincoln might, 
 if disposed, be married on reaching England, or 
 as soon as he pleased afterwards. 
 
 When young Lieutenant Osborne suffered an 
 unexpected blight of his budding affections, as we 
 read in the famous history of ' Vanity Fair,' he
 
 44 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 encountered an unhappy boy whipping his top on 
 tlie flags in his way, and smarting under the recent 
 wound, that spirited young officer relieved his agony 
 by' magnificently kicking the urchin's plaything 
 into the adjacent area. The act probably did him 
 good ; it was English, it was irrational ; but it 
 eased his mind, and was at all events better than to 
 commit some dreadful action — suicide or sudden 
 matrimony say — as would the young Frenchman 
 of fiction placed in a like situation. 
 
 There was no top spinning on the Lung' Arno 
 for Lord Lincoln to kick out of the way when the 
 cut which that letter dealt him began to bite and 
 fester, as it quickly did ; but he mounted his horse 
 and had a hot and eager gallop along the Cascine. 
 A group of stonecutters, returning to their work 
 at the Villa Yisconti facade, were chanting a 
 serenade of Yittorelli — 
 
 " Guarda clie b'anca luna ! 
 Guarda clie notte azzurra !" 
 
 when the excited young earl came skurrying in 
 amongst them, interrupting the chorus and bringing
 
 A Countermarch. 45 
 
 out a deep guttural " Sacramento !" and other 
 pectoral maledictions from the swarthy band. 
 
 Afterwards Lincoln dismounted, and giving his 
 horse to the groom, walked meditatively back 
 towards the town. Walking was better for 
 him ; he found it easier to keep pace with the 
 rapidity of his thoughts on foot. 
 
 This letter was as unexpected as unwelcome; 
 it was offensive : his spirit rose at the mandatory 
 tone of the missive. Was he a child, to be capri- 
 ciously commanded hither and thither ? Should he 
 be coerced into this prearranged Pelham marriage 
 whether he would or not? No duke or uncle in 
 England should do that, he vowed. He would return 
 home or remain abroad, as it suited him; and 
 marry or not, as leisure or inclination prompted. 
 
 But until that moment he had never examined 
 himself as to his possible want of inclination in 
 this regard. Now independence of spirit seemed 
 to have become the first of personal qualities ; it 
 appeared noble in the highest degree, like a youth- 
 ful knight of old romance, to fling the great
 
 46 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 world and its small ambitions aside for the sake 
 of a lady fair, but unhappily there were two 
 fair ones in this case, and the line which duty 
 and honour prescribed was wavering and in- 
 distinct. If it were merely a question of the loss 
 of sundry lands and honours, and thousands of 
 income, as against the indulgence of the amorous 
 impulse which was so strong on him then, Lincoln 
 was well disposed to adopt a startling resolution 
 — but Catherine Pelham ! 
 
 He could not bring himself to consider her in 
 the light of a chattel, to be adopted or neglected at 
 his pleasure. Until now he had never doubted his 
 attachment to her. She had not done anything to 
 forfeit his esteem : it was impossible to entertain 
 a disparaging thought regarding her. 
 
 Somehow devotion to Lady Sophia Fermor 
 became a less chivalrous sentiment when opposed 
 to the claims of his cousin ; and his own conduct 
 failed to sustain the highly compHmentary hght 
 which he desired it to bear. Lincoln shrank from 
 a betrayal of his word ; he was young and unspoilt
 
 A Countermarch. 
 
 47 
 
 as yet ; the bare suspicion of a dishonourable action 
 was intolerable : yet, honour sounded as binding 
 in one case as the other. What an imbroglio 
 it was ! How hopelessly intricate the tangle of 
 his destiny had become ! He seemed condemned 
 by fate to enact a doubtful part in any case ; his 
 conduct must be unbecoming and unworthy, leaving 
 him for only choice the particular kind of baseness 
 to select from. What was to be his decision in this 
 delicate and difficult crisis ? Who was to be the 
 victim ? Which of his two mistresses the jilted 
 one ? His inquisitive conscience pressed for an 
 answer. What a position for a vain and chivalrous 
 young gentleman, of a frank and not ungenerous 
 nature, to stand racking his brains for an answer 
 to these questions ! Beside him the Arno flowed, 
 its wooded banks dotted with palaces and villas 
 steeped in light ; in front the clustering spires of 
 the churches, floating in the Tuscan air ; in the 
 midst of them Giotto's wonder. Some mouldering 
 columns of Caligula's villa, bound in coils of vine, 
 looked big in the foreground, a sunbeam playing
 
 48 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 on the basking lizards, a broken shaft protruding 
 through the leaves ; one is familiar with that 
 pictured foreground. A temple of pleasure and 
 power, where now only death inhabited ; there 
 Lincoln saw a symbol of that vain ambition 
 to which they sought to devote him. Further 
 on, it was a grotto consecrated to Apollo — Apollo, 
 the god of love. How he hated the landscape ! 
 Then came a torrent of feeble regrets. Why 
 had he ever set foot in Tuscany at all, or trusted 
 himself so far into temptation, or set eyes on this 
 wondrous creature, or lost his soul in the witchery 
 of her charms ? 
 
 A sun ray whitened the turrets of the Eidolfi on 
 the opposite bank of the river. It seemed like 
 a direct invitation to him. There was a by-path 
 leading to the bridge. 
 
 In his excited and incoherent mood he felt that 
 sympathy and assistance were only to be found 
 there ; at all events it was a way of escaping from 
 the immediate ordeal of making up his mind ; so 
 he went straight to the Eidolfi. Yet without any
 
 A Countermarch. 49 
 
 formed intention of exhibiting his uncle's letter, 
 and least of all, we may presume, of truthfully 
 explaining the very delicate circumstances which 
 caused his agony. 
 
 One of the younger daughters met him on 
 entering the house, and open-mouthed he declared 
 the possible object of his visit to her : '' He might 
 have to go to England, perhaps immediately." 
 
 Lady Sophia was dressing for an excursion when 
 this indiscreet sister ran upstairs, bringing the 
 news that " Lord Lincoln was about to leave for 
 England, and had called to say farewell." 
 
 She went on with her dressing for a moment, 
 then dismissed her maid, and taking the child 
 beside her on the sofa, kissed her gently, and asked 
 her to repeat exactly the very words which Lord 
 Lincoln had spoken. 
 
 Li the end Lady Sophia changed her mind ; she 
 did not go out that forenoon. She divined the 
 substance of what had happened ; it flashed on her 
 like an inspiration. 
 
 It might be that insight into her lover s chai'ac- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 5o A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 ter had made it already clear that in the face of 
 sustained or extreme opposition no great devotion 
 was to be expected from him. However amiable 
 in disposition, he was not of the heroic order. And 
 in any case she had no knowledge of his feelings. 
 It was only now that she began to realise or to dis- 
 cover what her own were — what they might be, 
 rather. She had been living a life of fantasy in heed- 
 less security ; and an awakening shock came sud- 
 denly to shatter ihe gilded dangerous dream which 
 had been her life. She could not meet Lincoln now 
 without betraying that which she blushed to dis- 
 cover to herself. Remember her age ; she was 
 all simplicity and inexperience. Scarcely had she 
 yet opened her eyes on that world which was 
 already beginning to wonder at her beauty. 
 
 She did not go downstairs to bid farewell ; she 
 could not see him then. She did not want to hear 
 the sentence from his own lips — the recital in 
 detail of those pressing motives which compelled 
 him unwillingly to desert her. It was enough 
 that she was abandoned, and that he was false.
 
 A Countermarch. 51 
 
 For some time she sat motionless, half dressed, 
 staring blankly at the pale reflection in her toilet 
 mirror. In a while Lincoln, who was impatiently 
 pacing the drawing-room, learnt that she had a 
 headache, and did not intend to see him. 
 
 It happened, however, that Lady Pomfret was 
 in the garden, choosing a bouquet for the fete of 
 Princess Craon, when the news of Lady Sophia's 
 sudden indisposition reached her : she returned to 
 the house at once, and observing Lord Lincoln's 
 troubled features staring through the vine leaves 
 which framed in the window of the vestibule 
 where he waited, she smiled to him on entering 
 the house 'and passed on ; but on entering Lady 
 Sophia's chamber she heard that his lordship had 
 not come to join them in a ride on the Lung' Arno, 
 but to say farewell and set forth for England. 
 Then the Countess turned pale and slowly laid 
 down her flowers. 
 
 If Lady Sophia was unwilling to have an 
 interview with her lover, her mother was of a 
 different mind ; and the pallor of her face 
 
 E 2
 
 52 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 changed to a deep flusli as she redescended the 
 marble staircase to offer her compHments to 
 Lord Lincoln, and learn what account he had to 
 give of himself. He turned quickly when the 
 door opened, then stammered and hesitated — he had 
 not expected the mother. Lord ! how frightened 
 the man looked, how mean ! the Countess thought. 
 His dress was strangely disordered, the powder 
 of his hair had scattered down over the shoulders 
 and breast of his long mulberry riding-coat, and 
 whitened on his cheek, though that was white 
 enough before. He wore no sword, he had left 
 that weapon with his groom : he did not want 
 to run anybody through with it now that he 
 meditated running away. How prejudice and 
 anger blind one ! Even the experienced, the 
 skilful, and the prudent are not always proof 
 against the sudden assaults of passion. The 
 Countess wondered how she could have ever 
 thought him agreeable or handsome ; he had not 
 even the hel aii\ as he stood cringing behind 
 the drawing-room table, fumbling at his hat. Was
 
 A Countermarch. 
 
 S3 
 
 this the pretty gentleman who had been her 
 daughter's partner and the envy of the room at the 
 embassy ball ? — ^whose dancing had provoked the 
 sneers of Walpole and the envy of that talented 
 young Eoman Prince Lello Saltimbanco, whose 
 rising fame on his toes had already travelled as far 
 north as Turin, and who claimed to have tbe smartest 
 minuet step of any leg in the whole Italian Boot ? 
 
 But Lincoln endeavoured to express his busi- 
 ness, and stammered on about his precious letter, 
 and the command of his uncle the duke which 
 ordered him home. 
 
 Here the Countess exploded. 
 
 " And you are going, my lord ? and you are 
 going ?" she repeated ; but the words choked her. 
 
 In her view it was evident that, if he hesitated 
 about flight at all, it was only in deference to or ont 
 of consideration for his own inclinations ; that he 
 had no impression of the claims of others upon his 
 honour or his affections ; that he regarded himself 
 as perfectly free in every way, and not at all 
 committed by any past proceedings — by the distinct
 
 54 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 personal advances which he had so heedlessly or so 
 audaciously made. This she saw or concluded that 
 she saw ; and here it was that the tem23er of the 
 Countess broke loose — mere petulance overmastered 
 her. She was mistaken, however, and for the suc- 
 cess of her project it was a fatal error. Had she 
 guessed it, all that Lincoln required was such 
 mental support and assistance as she might easily 
 have supplied him with. A little dexterous manipu- 
 lation at that moment of indecision would have 
 given him resolution, and made her own of him at 
 a stroke, and ruined the schemes of the duke and 
 the family at Esher. A degree more of coolness 
 and circumspection, and the Pelham alliance was 
 at an end. But her impulse was already beyond 
 control : it was another of those frequent occasions 
 in the life of the Countess when mere combustion 
 of temper defeated her. 
 
 " And you are going, my lord? My daughter is 
 ill in her chamber. I shall convey your respects 
 to her, and say that you obey the duke : — his grace 
 is fortunate in a dutiful nephew."
 
 A Countermarch. 55 
 
 '* Lady Sophia ill ! but I must see her !" cried 
 out Lord Lincoln, bounding across the room. 
 
 " It is needless, my lord ; she'll mend without 
 your attention. Pray consider your health and 
 your uncle, and do not distress yourself. 
 
 "I shall tell her that you were overcome, and 
 that, only you have to pack your trunks, you 
 would be in despair. And look, my lord ! Here 
 is your portrait, which, to my surprise, I find you 
 presented to my daughter. Your family might not 
 care to have so precious an object of art travelling 
 in Tuscany ; you had better take care of it." 
 She flung the locket on the table. " It has neither 
 interest nor value for any one in this house. You 
 may find use for it at home, or else your uncle 
 the duke may instruct you how to dispose of it 
 again in some proper manner. 
 
 " My lord, spare your speeches ; explanations 
 are unnecessary. We understand each other, I 
 think. You have only to make your bow with the 
 best grace you can manage. Whether it is a 
 becoming one or not, I leave you to judge.
 
 c^6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Farewell;" and the Countess courtesied scorn- 
 fully, with her hand upon the bell-rope. 
 
 This was an electric shock to Lincoln ; as if a 
 bolt had suddenly descended on his head ; and he 
 was dazed and startled at the strange stunning 
 sensation. Until that awakening moment he 
 was not conscious that any human being, that 
 any voice but that of his own conscience, was 
 entitled to address him in terms of reproach. 
 
 If he felt in truth something slightly like a villain 
 perhaps, that was no concern of those who had not 
 the privilege of looking into his heart and who could 
 know nothing of the unhappy engagement with his 
 cousin. It was a secret in his own breast, and with- 
 out express evidence of its knowledge no one had 
 a right to be aware of it. Besides, did he know 
 that he was going to behave ill when he had not yet 
 determined how to proceed ? He might yet turn out 
 to be a hero after all ; perhaps it was the other side 
 — the other lady that he should decide to betray. 
 But now his pride rebounded at the shock of 
 this encounter — the colHsion was rude. He was
 
 A Countermarch, 
 
 57 
 
 outraged, indignant : he took the angry matron at 
 her word, and turned on his heel. 
 
 Lady Charlotte heard his spurs jingling as he 
 descended the marble stairs, and bounded out to 
 meet him in a girlish way. She was in riding cos- 
 tume, and asked if he had come to be her escort; 
 but my lord made her a stately salute, and regretted 
 that his engagements forbade him that honour. 
 
 Lady Charlotte stared in a frightened way at 
 his royal bearing. 
 
 He reached the town in a fume ; then hurriedly 
 crossed the river to his palazzo. 
 
 Alphonse, the new French valet, was reclining 
 on a sculptured seat by the columns of the 
 entrance. It was the sentimental menial's first 
 visit to Italy, " the pays of his soupirs/' and he was 
 meritoriously making use of the opportunity " to 
 study in this meme Florence, cradle of the arts, the 
 mceurs of this people artiste." He had accordingly 
 hired a goatherd " to delasser him with an air 
 montagnard," as he sat sipping the execrable wine 
 of the country in the shadow of the porch.
 
 58 .A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 This goatherd was a fat garlic-eating rogue, 
 who had never tended other flocks than the pack 
 of foreign visitors and tourists who crowded the 
 inns and lodging-houses : he carried a long pointed 
 greasy hat over his wavy hair, a skin pelisse, a 
 stone bottle at his girdle, and his round lazy legs^ 
 which had never done any work harder than to 
 bake in the sun, were latticed with cross-gartering 
 thongs. He stood blowing through his pipe, one 
 forefinger uplifted on the stop, exactly as we may 
 see him at this hour performing in living Berlin 
 wool on many a gilded pole-screen, or in chalky 
 looking lithographs in second-rate print shops. 
 
 This representative Tuscan stood in place 
 of the urchin's top to the angry Lieutenant 
 Osborne referred to before. Lord Lincoln did not 
 kick him into the area railings — there are none to 
 Italian palaces — but he sent the wretch screaming 
 from the porch with a stroke of his riding whip, 
 and then turning on the blushing Alphonse, 
 overwhelmed him with a torrent of invective in 
 his native tongue.
 
 A Countermarch. 59 
 
 Lincoln's French was good : he taunted his 
 servant with danghng with the Lazzaroni of the 
 Piazza when pressing business was to be done, and 
 short time to do it in ; " for malles were to be 
 made, horses provided, and the depart from the 
 hated Tuscan capital to be that very evening." 
 
 And so my lord was off; it was an open rup- 
 ture. The language of the Countess alone had 
 helped him to make up his mind ; and he quitted 
 Florence without again presenting himself at the 
 Ridolfi, or seeing any of its inmates. 
 
 Here, then, was the end of a scheme which at one 
 time looked so promising. Lady Pomfret felt her 
 own share of the mishap so keenly that she did not 
 observe how much to heart her daughter also took 
 the disappointment. 
 
 After a defeat a general does not at once go 
 over the numerical list of the killed and wounded 
 to reckon up how much his battalions may have 
 suffered in the conflict. The day is lost, that is all, 
 and here there was active work- to do ; Lady 
 Pomfret had her hands full in covering the re-
 
 6o A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 treat, in striving to conceal the disaster, in main- 
 taining a bold and cheerful countenance. She did 
 not at first note the hollow cheeks, and pallor and 
 waning spirits of her daughter. There was the 
 laughing Mary Montagu to be outfaced ; Horace's 
 sister. Lady Walpole, the other rival sham literary 
 lady ; and the pale, polite, sneering, abominable 
 Horace himself, to be encountered every day. 
 After the dear English friends came the corps of 
 that motley Tuscan society for whose profit there 
 had been so much racketing and display, and for 
 whose amusement she had been keeping open house 
 so long, scattering those hoarded guineas which 
 might have been better kept in reserve for the 
 approaching London campaign. Fancy Princess 
 Craon and the others, the Beauveaux, the Stoschs, 
 the Cocchi, the Blondelmoiiti, inquiring with covert 
 smiles and mock airs of interest if Lord Lincoln 
 had really gone away — gone without any project 
 of returning — without informing his friends of his 
 future movements or intentions. Imagine that, and 
 how Henrietta, Countess of Pomfret must have
 
 A Countermarch. 6i 
 
 grinned into their sallow hypocritical faces for 
 only answer. 
 
 But presently the change in her daughter ex- 
 cited real alarm. It was Lady Sophia s first at- 
 tachment, and her first experience of disappoint- 
 ment and desertion. The iron entered deeply, 
 and the wound was slow to close. She tired at 
 once of Florence and its monotonous gaieties, of 
 the Arno and its insipid beauty. Her mother 
 perceived that she had lost some of her beauty, 
 and all her spirits, so the order to march was 
 given at once. The tents were struck. 
 
 The campaign in Tuscany had come to a close : 
 it had been a failure. Time, money, and labour all 
 spent there without profit ; but what matter ? The 
 Countess was not one to sit down mourning in 
 apathy and idleness. Preparations were promptly 
 made for trying again with better luck elsewhere ; 
 for renewing operations on a larger scale at home. 
 So the family gets under weigh, and by easy 
 stages moves towards London ; stopping at Genoa, 
 Milan, Geneva, and Brussels by the way.
 
 62 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 SOME ELDERLY JUVENILES. 
 
 By an odd coincidence, Horace Walpole quits 
 Florence immediately after the Pomfrets. 
 
 Ostensibly there was a political reason for his 
 departure. Sir Robert Walpole's Government, 
 then tottering before an opposition led by the able 
 and unscrupulous Lord Carteret, needed all the par- 
 liamentary strength which it could muster, and 
 Horace was doubtless anxious to assist his father ; 
 but strange that his letters to Sir Horace Mann at 
 this very period give every minute detail concern- 
 ing the Fermor family and its movements. It 
 appears to be the one subject uppermost in his 
 mind. 
 
 In October 1741 the Pomfrets reached London,
 
 Some Elderly ytiveniles. 63 
 
 and after announcing the fact of their arrival, 
 Walpole adds : 
 
 ''I never see anything of the Pomfrets, because 
 in the great city of London the Countess's follies 
 do not make the same figure as they did in little 
 Florence. Besides, there are such numbers here 
 who have such equal pretensions to be absurd, that 
 one is scarce aware of particular ridicules." 
 
 But in a while he sees more of them, and im- 
 proves his opportunities of observation ; he is very 
 particular to note down all that he sees : 
 
 " Lady Sophia is ill, and my Lord Lincoln not 
 coming'' Again : " I saw Lady Pomfret last night. 
 Lady Sophia is still ill with a cold ; her head is to 
 be dressed French, her body English ; for which 
 I am sorry, her figure is so fine in a robe. She 
 is full as sorry as I am. Their trunks have 
 not arrived yet, so they have not made their 
 appearance." 
 
 And so Lady Sophia was being prepared for 
 competition at the great Epsom of Vanity Fair, 
 and a brilliant performance there was confidently
 
 64 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 predicted for her. Lady Pomfret had so arranged 
 her journey as to arrive in time for the London 
 season, and no more than in time. In George the 
 Second's reign the season commenced in October. 
 The affair in Florence had rendered it important to 
 perform great things during the coming campaign. 
 If Lord Lincoln had taken himself away it was 
 necessary that the world should understand he had 
 not taken sighs from either mother or daughter 
 along with him ; also that it should see what a prize 
 he had let slip through his fingers. Like an opulent 
 connoisseur, he had been granted a private view of 
 this priceless masterpiece of nature, and had not the 
 wit to appreciate his luck or seize his opportunity. 
 Now the gem was to be properly hung up and 
 ticketed, and exposed for auction on the walls of 
 the Royal Academy of fashion. The duller he, 
 to have allowed it to come to an open market. 
 The world at large would appreciate the value 
 of that which he had neither the sense nor taste to 
 admire. 
 
 Thus Lady Pomfret reasoned, counting up the
 
 Some Elderly yitveniles. 6^ 
 
 half a dozen great settlements in England that 
 might do for Sophia, and the two or three dozen 
 average ones that would do admirably for the 
 less resplendent Charlotte. Both her daughters 
 were to appear this season, and the town might be 
 challenged to produce such another pair. Nature 
 had done her part in adorning them, and the 
 Countess determined to perfect the work, if pains 
 and expense, her own taste and that handmaiden 
 of nature a court milliner, could achieve it. 
 
 What, after all, is the use of having a pretty face 
 without a becoming bonnet to set it off with ? 
 Which does, the frame or the picture itself, go far- 
 thest in producing an effect ? In 1741 a ball was a 
 brilliant affair, and the work of setting out a young 
 lady in society a sufficiently engrossing occupation 
 for herself and her family. A ball-room triumph 
 was everything to a belle, and a sufficiently impor- 
 tant affair even to a beau. Imagine it 1 At that 
 strange epoch in the history of England not only 
 ladies, but even gentlemen, went into society for 
 pleasure. And when they went out they danced. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 The modern plan for enjoying oneself by standing 
 mute in a doorway was yet undiscovered. It was 
 where the ruins of Nineveh were before Mr. 
 Layard was born. And if men of fashion were 
 then as ignorant as they are said to be at present ; 
 if they were as dull, shall we say, for want of 
 a better term — as little useful — dull or no, they 
 were more ornamental ; and everybody, whether in 
 society or not, could form an opinion upon that. 
 No danger then of mistaking your host for that far 
 more gentlemanly and better-bred individual his 
 butler. Silks, velvets, gold-lace, embroidery, dia- 
 monds—but what famous tailors' bills must have 
 been in those days ! How were they ever paid ? 
 Were they ever? What a capital trade man- 
 millinery was. Beaux must have gone out 
 shopping every day, snipping off bits of rib- 
 bon, and matching silks, and judging of the 
 clocking of stockings, and fingering inches of lace. 
 How miserably at the mercy of his laundress your 
 dandy must have been ! What with his frills, his 
 ruflSes, his stays, his buckles, his garters, painting
 
 Some Elderly Juveniles. 67 
 
 his face and powdering his hair, how did a fine 
 gentleman ever find time to dine and sleep ? 
 
 However, the effect of a ball-room, crowded 
 with those enamelled and brocaded figures, was, 
 even with due allowance for the dingy tallow candles 
 of the period, stupendous. The licence accorded 
 to costume, even when it produced a fop and cari- 
 cature in the individual, contributed only to 
 enhance the general effect of the assembly; and 
 the ball at Sir Thomas Robinson's of Rokeby 
 was the most brilliant festival of the season of 
 the year '41. 
 
 It was a juvenile ball given in honour of a 
 young daughter of the Duke of Richmond, and all 
 London was there; the great and small of the 
 fashionable world, the aged and the young; as 
 we are informed, " all, from Miss in her bib and 
 apron to my Lord Chancellor in his bib and mace." 
 
 Walpole describes it : 
 
 " The arrangements at Sir Thomas Robinson's 
 were so good that nobody felt a crowd. He had 
 taken off all the doors, and so separated the old and 
 
 F 2
 
 68 A Clu^oiiicle of the Fermoi's. 
 
 young, that neither inconvenienced the other. The 
 ball began at eiglit : each man danced a minuet with 
 his partner, and then began country dances. There 
 were four and twenty couples, divided into twelve 
 and twelve : each set danced two dances, and then 
 retired into another room, while another set took 
 their places, and so on alternately." 
 
 Here the ladies Fermor made their debut, 
 and, it was said, had a marked success, both on the 
 side of nature as of art. They outshone all others, 
 as much by the magnificence and fashion of their 
 toilettes as by the splendour of their beauty. Who 
 knows which form of praise was the most accept- 
 able to the female mind ? Ladies have views upon 
 this graceful subject which the dull male creature 
 can never hope to understand. 
 
 As might have been predicted, Horace Walpole 
 did not miss this entertainment. Here we find him 
 dancing, and perhaps enjoying himself. That he 
 found the proceedings interesting we have his 
 word, whether they were to his taste or not. At 
 all events he was in the press of the fashionable
 
 Some Elderly yuveniles, 69 
 
 throng ; and when retiring witli his partner, Lady 
 Charlotte Fermor, he came face to face with the 
 Countess, her mother, it was the first time since 
 their parting at Florence. 
 
 '* Mr. Walpole, I protest ! Ah ! what joy to see 
 you !" It seemed as if she was going to embrace him 
 on the spot. " It does one good to see you again, 
 such scenes as you bring back to memory. Ah ! 
 
 " ' Italia ! Italia ! o tu ciii feo la sorte ! 
 Dono infelice ' 
 
 Dear, dear old Florence ! all comes back again at 
 sight of your pleasant face." 
 
 " My face is thankful. I took some pains to 
 make it look its best to-night, and am glad it 
 pleases you," said Walpole, drawing back nervously, 
 and disengaging his hand from the prolonged 
 clasp of the Countess. " When did your ladyship 
 arrive ? how did you perform the journey home, 
 what befel you by the way, and how are all the 
 friends we left behind us ? — the pleasantest place, I 
 believe, to leave most of one's friends," he added, 
 glancing at his face in the mirror opposite. " Lady
 
 7o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Charlotte and I have just come to an agreement 
 on that point." 
 
 " I left none behind," answered Lady Pomfret. 
 " Our circle was broken up before our flight." 
 
 " Aye ! so I recollect it was," said Walpole 
 drily, and his gold eye-glass turned on Lady 
 Sophia, who then passed, sailing by on the arm 
 of Lord Holder ness. 
 
 ** Mr. Pitt of Warrender is expected every day ; 
 I understand he is also on his way home," continued 
 Lady Pomfret. 
 
 " And Lord Lincoln travels with him," answered 
 Walpole from behind the gold eye-glass ; " he 
 certainly does." 
 
 " But Lord Lincoln must have arrived in Eng- 
 land long ago," said the Countess in an indifferent 
 tone. " He quitted Florence long before us." 
 
 ** By-the-by, yes, he is one of the friends who 
 went before us, yet whom we left behind us after 
 all," answered Walpole. " I remember. You may 
 not remember his haste to quit Florence, but I do. 
 Yet eager as he was to return to England, his
 
 Some Elderly Juveniles, 71 
 
 eagerness took breath at Paris, for he has remained 
 there ever since. There was no longer any hurry 
 once he had quitted Italy ; it seems his uncle could 
 do without him then. Odd, I admit, but the fact 
 is so. Bless me, but Lady Sophia is more of a 
 queen than ever, though she has grown lean, very 
 lean — the excitement of travel, probably ; yet I 
 think it improves her." 
 
 " Lean ! not at all, Mr. Walpole. That is but a 
 fancy of yours, and you are by nature very fanci- 
 fid. Sophia lean ! It is the uncomplimentary hght ; 
 or else there is something in the room to-night that 
 makes everything look odd, for, strange ! I thought 
 the same of you. The moment I caught sight of 
 your figure, I said to Charlotte, * There goes Mr. 
 Walpole, grown longer and leaner than ever.' " 
 
 " 'Tis with sighing after the charming fetes of 
 the Palazzo Ridolfi, madam.'* 
 
 " There is not half of you there." 
 
 " Then so much less of my weary self to know 
 what to do with. Congratulate me on that 
 account."
 
 72 A' Chro7iicle of the Fermors. 
 
 " And it does not become you at all. People 
 will say you are nursing some mallier6>05^ passion, 
 Mr. Walpole, who knows ? if you go on in that 
 fashion wasting away." 
 
 " I fear the nursling would perish for want of 
 care in my unskilful hands, Lady Pomfret, if it 
 were so. It is only victims of your sex who can 
 perform that office gracefully, or with any hope or 
 likelihood of obtaining hopeful results, or, in any 
 case, universal sympathy. Sentimental misery in 
 the male invariably provokes ridicule." 
 
 And Walpole unclasped his gold eye-glass, turn- 
 ing full round with a fixed smile on his angular 
 lips. He was prepared for battle, and ready 
 enough for a duello on the spot, if the Countess 
 would have it. 
 
 There was a certain air of, perhaps, patronage 
 about her ; some of the old Ridolfi manner, of that 
 period when his name too was inscribed on the 
 unhappy list of her daughter's victims ; when he 
 had been compelled to cringe, and swallow down 
 his grins, and bow the knee (allcgorically) at her
 
 Some Elderly Juveniles, 73 
 
 affectations, and her learning, and her taste, and 
 her trumpery regal manner, in hope of winning 
 some poor crumbs of favour or encouragement ; but 
 now they were in London, and times were changed. 
 No, Madame la Borgia, we are no longer at 
 Eome but at Ferrara, and I am not your slave, but 
 Duke Alfonso, and the master. 
 
 He was no longer the Peri casting longing eyes 
 into that Paradise where he dared not set foot. 
 He did not covet Paradise any longer, not he ; 
 and as for the angel guarding the garden of Eden 
 with the two-edged sword, her wit — faugh! he 
 laughed at the blunt and harmless weapon, as at 
 this poor old raddled angel with her mock Italian 
 and her " malheroose " French. 
 
 He was a prince and fine gentleman now. The 
 instinct of the Countess divined the difference, 
 and she declined the encounter. 
 
 " So you really think my daughter Sophia im- 
 proved then ?" she added humbly, and in a subdued 
 voice, whisking away her rising temper with a 
 sweep of her fan.
 
 74 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 " You want to catch me, madam. When did 
 Lady Sophia need improving?" 
 
 ** You are such a quiz !" 
 
 " Yous le croyez ?" 
 
 " If she does look well to-night, it must be her 
 dress then, or else because she is in such capital 
 spirits ; that is the cause of it perhaps," said the 
 Countess in a quicker tone, and with a toss of her 
 head, which said, If you provoke me to fight I 
 will, big a prince as you are. '^ I never knew my 
 daughter in better spirits, and that affects one's ap- 
 pearance. Besides, her dress should be becoming, 
 it cost me such a world of trouble. 'Twas important, 
 you understand, this being the first season, and for 
 other reasons," slowly, " it was equally so that she 
 should look tolerable. You have such excellent 
 taste, Mr. Walpole, that I should be glad to hear 
 from you if her dress will do. My mind will be at 
 rest about it if you approve," added the Countess 
 grimly. 
 
 " Tis vastly fine," he answered, looking the other 
 way, and in a tone that made the compliment a sneer.
 
 Some Elderly yuveniles. 75 
 
 " It is half English, half French ; a maylange, 
 you know ; they are all the fashion in Par^?^ ; and 
 I have done my best to render it perfectly modish 
 and in good taste." 
 
 *' It is plain that your ladyship's taste has pre- 
 sided at the affair " — a shrug. " Ah, Madame 
 la Princesse," and he stepped forward to shake 
 hands with a lady who rustled up in huge ampli- 
 tude of brocade, her neck and arms a blaze of 
 diamonds, which brought out reciprocal rays of envy 
 or admiration from Lady Pomfret's active eyes. 
 
 A most magnificent and stately figure, her cold 
 salute to the Countess being in marked contrast to 
 the sudden sunshine of smiles which beamed on 
 Walpole. She tapped his French sleeve reproach- 
 fully with her fan ; then her eyes and diamonds 
 sparkled playfully over the edge of it. He had for- 
 gotten his promises ; he was like all poets — volage ; 
 and to make his peace he must come to dinner at the 
 Ambassade on Thursday. My Lord Carteret was 
 promised, and she had asked all the most disagree- 
 able people in town on purpose to meet him. So
 
 76 A Chro7iicle of the Fermors, 
 
 he must come or spoil the set ; and with another 
 whisper the brocade skirt sweeps away into the 
 crowd of dancers. 
 
 The Countess was impressed by this little scene. 
 Had she been quite wise that time in Florence when 
 Walpole had received his curt dismissal ? True, he 
 was not a match for Soj^hia in any ordinary sense ; 
 but he had a certain position in town, and with his 
 powerful father, and his own ability, there was no 
 telling what future mig-ht be in store for him yet. 
 Though only a bird in the bush, still, while our 
 great lady was smarting from the cut of a greater 
 lady still, Walpole, with his quizzing supercilious 
 air and French suit, looked a very tempting bird of 
 very fine feather. 
 
 " How well Madame I'Ambassadrice looks to- 
 night ! What a superb paroore of brilliants ! How 
 becomingly dressed !" Hsjds the Countess. " Al- 
 together so French ; charming to^^ ensemble, and 
 the diamonds are doubtless very fine. A present, 
 'tis said, from a royal duchess who is accredited 
 with an engouement for Son P]xcellence. An
 
 Some Elderly Juveniles. 77 
 
 English wife maybe would not care to appear in 
 those jewels ; but at a certain age one gets recon- 
 ciled to everything, and diamonds are always 
 diamonds, and becoming at any age." 
 
 " Your ladyship will have long to wait for time 
 to arrive as a peacemaker in that sense, and my 
 Ladies Charlotte and Sophia must be very good 
 not to feel some jealousy of their mother" — a 
 mocking bow. " The fact is, I had promised to 
 scribble some doggerel in madame's album, and 
 forgot all about it. However, as I dine there 
 on Thursday, I shall plead* in excuse that all my 
 poetry has been left behind in Italy, and the source 
 of all inspiration also — alas !" 
 
 " La ! one would think you're turning senti- 
 mental, yet you affect to have no fine feelings," 
 said the Countess cautiously. *' One never knows 
 how to take you, Mr. Walpole." 
 
 Another great sigh. " Incompris, toujours 
 incompris^ Madame la Comtesse." 
 
 Was he laughing in her face ? The Countess 
 was not quite certain.
 
 78 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 " Apropos talking of sentiment, there are the 
 duke and duchess as models of it. See, yonder 
 by the pillars; do look/' said Lady Pomfret, 
 shifting the conversation into another channel. 
 Was ever such a caricature ? Did you ever see 
 persons of their age and condition so misconduct 
 themselves — so foolish, so extravagant? Kissing 
 her hand, actually kissing it again, as I'm alive, and 
 before everybody. What would you say if my 
 earl and I were to go on in that manner, billing 
 and cooing in the midst of a London ball-room ?" 
 ''I should be much edified." 
 " But would it not be very ridiculous ?" 
 "In your case — how can you ask? My dear 
 madam, how can you ?" — bowing. 
 
 " Where there is such a display of affection 
 I incline to doubt its reality," said the Countess 
 dogmatically. " Would not you ? These people may 
 tear their eyes out behind the scenes, for all we 
 know. It is too ridiculous, such airs and graces, 
 with every one of five and twenty children be- 
 tween them."
 
 Some Elderly ytiveniles, 79 
 
 " Nothing surpasses the ridicule of having five 
 and twenty children, I admit. However, the 
 duchess is so extremely well preserved that one 
 excuses the gallantry of the old duke." 
 
 " I consider such behaviour ill-bred and bar- 
 barous. We saw nothing like that in Italy, Mr. 
 Walpole.'* 
 
 "Not between married people," answers Wal- 
 pole ; ''preserve that local distinction. But you 
 remember that a good deal of something like this 
 tender exhibition might now and then have been 
 witnessed, not confined to elderly people either ; 
 assuredly not to ugly ones. The vast rooms and 
 vast gardens of the Palazzo Ridolfi, for instance, 
 might have been vastly convenient for amorous 
 couples in search of such a convenience as oppor- 
 tunity : here the more limited spaces and absence 
 of hiding holes possibly may render a tete-a-tete so 
 difficult as to oblige persons to proceed with their 
 offices of courtship somewhat in public." 
 
 " Yes, in our palazzo we might have billeted a 
 battalion."
 
 8o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 " Of billers and cooers," suggested Walpole. 
 
 ^' A battalion, without inconvenience ; and 
 London rooms feel as cramped as cupboards after 
 them. But I am tired of Italian reminiscences. 
 Let us change the subject." 
 
 "Yet the pleasures of memory are the only 
 fruits of foreign travel for some of us," said 
 Walpole, again mounting his eye-glass. " It has 
 left no profit but that ; nothing but the recollection 
 of pleasant hours to fall back upon ; in everything 
 else disappointment." 
 
 The Countess turned very red, and looked at 
 him : he was looking at the dancers. There was 
 a pause. 
 
 " I understand Sir Thomas has increased the 
 capacity of his house by having all the beds 
 taken down, and the house, from garret to cellar, 
 turned into reception rooms," she said in a rapid 
 way. 
 
 "Treating his company de liaut en bas^ as 
 Selwyn said this afternoon at White's," said 
 Horace complacently.
 
 Some Elderly yuveniles. 8i 
 
 **La ! Mr. Selwyn. Is he still as bad as ever? 
 and his jokes, I daresay, no better than they used to 
 be either. What a life is his, haunting clubs and 
 dozing over his cards 1 A wonder so sleepy a person 
 can be so wide awake. Yet he has a fine fortune. 
 What a shame he does not marry ! Don't you 
 think so, Mr. Walpole ? Here comes Sophia. 
 Sophia, here is our old friend Mr. Walpole, 
 and as uncomplimentary as ever, for he says you 
 have grown lean." 
 
 Walpole turned round with vexation in his 
 face. 
 
 VOL. I. a
 
 82 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 IN- WHICH SOME JUVENILES EMBRACE. 
 
 He was annoyed that the mother should have said 
 anything to convey that he had been speaking of 
 her daughter, that he was even aware of that 
 superb young lady's existence at all, much less of 
 her presence in the room. It was a nothing, but 
 there are situations of the mind — rather, of the 
 affections — when the buzz of an insect sounds like 
 a cannon-shot in the delicate ears which are 
 especially tuned to receive it. Walpole had 
 been very polite and stand off, and indifferent — 
 supremely indifferent — to everything concerning 
 Lady Sophia Fermor, and it was of such impor- 
 tance that his petit-maitre air should be preserved 
 intact and should also be perceived by those 
 beautiful eyes. He was standing on the brink,
 
 In tvhich some Juveniles embrace. 83 
 
 daintily, tiptoe on the brink of water, as it were, 
 but safe, without wetting the rosette of his shoe, 
 and here the Countess had chucked him, rudely, 
 knee-deep into the element. It was a humiliation 
 for him ; there he was splashing about with 
 consciously unbecoming gestures. How was it 
 possible to preserve a superfine self-sufficient 
 smirk when this heedless or artful matron had 
 made so reckless an exposure of the matter of 
 his thoughts ? 
 
 He was taken at woful disadvantage, and turned 
 shyly as Lady Sophia came up, leaning on the 
 arm of Lord Holderness, and stood presenting her 
 hand. Did she attend to her mother's obser- 
 vation ? or apprehend or care what his thoughts 
 or feelings were or might have been ? She was 
 acquiring experience of the world already, and 
 the sensations of other people were sometimes 
 becoming a tiresome subject to attend to. 
 
 She had come in from the juvenile dancing-room, 
 and was obviously out of humour. 
 
 " We have been looking at the juvenile dancers," 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A Chronicle of the Ferniors, 
 
 slie said, " my Lord Holderness and I, in search 
 of a future belie, and find them but an indifferent 
 collection : with exception of the little lady for 
 whom the fete is given, there is not a remarkable 
 face in the room. The Clubs of the next generation 
 will hav-e small call for toasts, as I said to Lord 
 Holderness;" and Lady Sophia put up her fan 
 and yawned in a most unbecoming fashion for 
 the beautiful heroine she was. 
 
 " You forget little Lady Juliana," said Lord Hol- 
 derness, with eyes that sought to attract a response 
 from the beautiful ones hidden behind the fan. 
 
 " My daughter Juliana is said to be the image 
 of Sophia there, the living image — the same nose 
 exactly," said the Counless. 
 
 " Your ladyship must permit me to deny that," 
 said Lord Holderness. 
 
 " Everybody says it," persisted the Countess. 
 
 " Then the world will be dazzled out of its wits 
 by-and-by. I cannot think there is such luck in 
 store for the coming generation as has fallen 
 to our share."
 
 In which some Juveniles embrace, 85 
 
 Lord Holderness was a conceited coxcomb, 
 who evidently had hopes of his own. 
 
 " About noses — I am a connoisseur in the 
 rarity. There is no such thing nowadays as a 
 nose. I have examined the collection in the room 
 without discovering anything beyond the snub/' 
 said Walpole, recovering himself, all the easier 
 because the fit of nervousness which had seized 
 him was apparently not perceived by any- 
 body. *' Selwyn says he meets nothing but a 
 snub on every lady's face that he looks at_, and I 
 feel like him to-night. On every face that one 
 ventures to look at — a snub. And as for those 
 faces where all features are perfect, one scarcely 
 ventures to look at them at all," he added, 
 sim]3ering. 
 
 *' Yes ; one's modesty evidently prevents that/ 
 said Lord Holderness pertly. 
 
 Lady Sophia moved her shoulders ; the necklace 
 of amethysts and brilliants which her mother had 
 purchased a bargain from Princess Craon gieamed 
 in the rays of the chandelier as she stirred.
 
 S6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 She was vexed, or tired, or out of humour ; or 
 weary of Lord Holderness, perhaps. 
 
 " How stupid there are so few minuets," she said 
 languidly, addressing Walpole directly in a com- 
 plaining tone. ^* How very ill arranged it is ! 
 nothing but country dance on country dance. 
 Listen, they are positively playing * Buttered Peas' 
 again. Excuse me. Lord Holderness, I am tired ; 
 I shall sit this dance. I thought we should have 
 had a minuet this time at least ;" and her short 
 upper lip curved as she rustled quickly down on 
 a couch, and presented the back of her graceful 
 head to the group with the haughtiness of a 
 queen. 
 
 Lord Holderness, protesting that ho was as 
 willing to talk as dance, took a position beside her, 
 and Walpole, standing pensively apart, opened his 
 large eyes, an unconscious melancholy lurking in 
 them as he looked at the pair. 
 
 He detected a vacant expression, a certain 
 sadness in the beautiful face. A coronet manque 
 — a want of Lincoln — ho translated it. But what
 
 In which some Juveniles embrace. 87- 
 
 was it to him what she wanted ? Then, as he con- 
 tinued to gaze, the old dangerous Florentine light 
 beamed out from those eyes, and slowly in response 
 the old feeling revived within him. It was a 
 perilous moment. Perhaps he had misjudged her. 
 She might not have been so bad, so worldly, 
 as he imagined. A strange form of thought 
 to find a resting-place in his mind ! Then he saw 
 that she had not indeed improved in looks, and 
 that the fair clear features had lost their fresh 
 burnish of happiness. 
 
 "La, Mr. Walpole, what are you staring at? 
 You look as melancholy as the statue of Momus 
 in the Florentine Gallery," said the Countess in a 
 loud tone at his elbow. " And though he was the 
 god of mirth, he had the saddest face I ever saw ; 
 and you resemble him uncommonly at present, 
 staring at the wall." 
 
 " It was the business of Momus to satirise the 
 ancients, madam : beware !" said Walpole, rousing 
 himself. 
 
 " But lie was turned out of heaven for it in the
 
 88 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 end. He lost heaven and the society of gods, and 
 of goddesses too, Mr. Walpole, because he could not 
 practise the golden art of holding his tongue. Let 
 that be a lesson to others like him. However, if 
 Momus would turn round now and enlighten my 
 ignorance, I should be his debtor. I want to know 
 who everybody is, and as I ciceroned the god of 
 mirth, or of satire — which is it ? — in Florence, he 
 owes me something in return. I have been so long 
 out of the country that I scarcely know how to 
 behave in public. Fancy, I caught myself break- 
 ing out in Italian to Mrs. Chenevix and Mrs. 
 Dolby. Poor souls ! it quite upset me to expose 
 their ignorance in public. It was very inadvertent 
 of me, and they looked so ashamed of it too." 
 
 " Yet in Italy your ladyship rarely spoke in 
 Italian ; Lady Charlotte acted as your interpretress 
 — now very perverse !" said Walpole^ peevishly. 
 "However, I am ignorant of these islanders I 
 have not tasted the horrors of home beyond a month. 
 I conclude you present the young ladies on Friday, 
 the Birthday?" and Momus surveyed the room
 
 In which some yuveniles embrace. 89 
 
 with an air as intentionally indifferent as was the 
 affected tone of his voice. 
 
 " We may be so fortunate to as meet you there ?" 
 
 " I do promise myself to kiss hands on Friday, 
 
 but it is doubtful as yet ; like your ladyship, I live 
 
 in expectancy, and look out for an important 
 
 arrival from Paris," he added tartly. 
 
 " I expect nothing from Paris, Mr. Walpole." 
 " You are the luckier for it, as I expect Lord 
 Lincoln with my trunks and my Birthday suit, 
 and lie awake o'nights guessing at the shape of it. 
 Lincoln, you know, is expected, and promises to 
 bring my finery. If he should disappoint for 
 Friday, then his Majesty must bear with my 
 absence. My taste is French, and I dare not 
 exhibit my person in the work of an English 
 scissors. By-the-way, if Lincoln means coming 
 at all, I judge he had better come quickly." 
 A pause. " My lord, yonder, appears on his 
 promotion," added Walpole, glancing at Lord 
 Holderness, " and I wish him, and your ladyship, 
 and everybody else, joy of it."
 
 90 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 " You always speak in enigmas ; nobody can 
 ever make out your meaning," said Lady Pom- 
 fret, looking hard the other way. " But talking 
 of trunks — apropos of trunks — pray ihank your 
 friend for the trouble he had sending on our things 
 from Florence. Thank him from me when you 
 write. I hope he is well ; he was very obliging." 
 
 " Mr. Mann ? Yes. He wrote yesterday and 
 he still laments your departure/' continued 
 Walpole. " He tells me Count Ugoccioni, Lady 
 Sophia's poetical lover, is not at all cured of his 
 passion, and as he must be occupied some way 
 with her idea, he is composing a congratulatory 
 ode on — on her marriage, Mann hopes the happy 
 event will not delay, as otherwise the poem 
 threatens to be as long as the Iliad, and whatever 
 small stock of sense the count may possess will 
 evaporate in its accomplishment." 
 
 "- What beautiful eyes he had ! I was fond of 
 the count," said Lady Pomfret innocently. " The 
 Ugoccioni are a very noble Venetian family; 
 Froissart distinctly mentions the name. Froissart
 
 In which some yuveniles embrace, 91 
 
 says " added my Lady Pom fret, getting up her 
 
 literary expression, and preparing for the display 
 of a quotation. 
 
 But what Froissart said was never heard by 
 Walpole, for at the moment a short pretty person, 
 in the tallest of coiffures, trotted or toddled forward, 
 as unsteadily as her high vermilion heels could 
 manage. She was all over spangles, bangles, 
 bugles, diamonds^ flounces and pompons. From 
 her sparkling beady eyes down to the enormous 
 spangled rosettes of her short shoes, one amazing 
 glitter and flutter. This was Ethelreda Harrison, 
 the great Norfolk heiress, the original of Lady 
 Bellaston in * Tom Jones,' and Lady Tempest 
 in * Pompey the Little,' who had married Lord 
 Townshend but who, to her exceeding satisfac- 
 tion, was now separated from him. 
 
 " Dear, dear — dearest Lady Pomfret !" screamed 
 Lady Townshend, with extravagant delight, seizing 
 her friend by both hands. "How charming to 
 have you back at last! Society has been quite 
 snuffed out since your departure — vapid and
 
 92 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 insipid beyond endurance. We want some one of 
 parts and wit, with your fund of anecdote, to re- 
 animate ns again. Such a dull set here. My fan, 
 Mr. Winnington ; my smelling-bottle, Sir Charles. 
 Dear ! how glad I am to lay eyes on you. They 
 said you were here, but I did not believe it, and 
 have been seeking you from garret to cellar. 
 These rooms are so numerous, so crowded, one might 
 play at hide-and-seek ineffectually all the evening. 
 I think I shall sit awhile. My Lord Mountstewart, 
 fetch me a chair ; but no, it does not become me, 
 and you may carry my reticule instead. What! Mr. 
 WaljDole too ! and fresh returned from round the 
 world besides," continued her ladyship, with re- 
 newed enthusiasm, presenting her rows on rows of 
 blazing rings to receive the pert acknowledgments 
 of the smihng gentleman. "Mr. Walpole, ma- 
 licious, charming as ever. My Lady Pomfret is the 
 sun, and attracts the most brilliant satellites by her 
 influence ; quite a constellation of taste, fashion, 
 learning, and belles-lettres in this corner of the 
 room. If your tongue has lost any of its bitter,
 
 In which some Juveniles embrace. 93 
 
 talking Tuscan sweets to southern charmers, I will 
 undertake to restore its edge again, Mr. Walpole," 
 she added, shaking the fragrance from her pompons 
 and laces as she ogled, grimaced and fanned herself, 
 blocking up the passage of the folding-doors with 
 her hoops and making Lady Pomfret conscious 
 that she was being audaciously laughed at for the 
 benefit of my Lady Ethelreda's perambulating escort. 
 For the little lady was a reputed quiz, and it was 
 the only decent reputation which she deserved or 
 took any trouble to sustain. Provided she was 
 laughed with or at, and had a supply of young 
 fellows following in her train, and plenty of women 
 looking on to envy, it was all she cared about. The 
 paint on her cheek copied no hue of nature ; it did 
 not pretend to deceive. She painted brazenly, 
 as she lived, and Mrs. Montagu in two sentences 
 records how the marchioness was then passing her 
 time. " Lord Townshend is spitting up his lungs 
 at the gravel pits," she writes, " and his charming 
 lady diverting herself with daily rambles in town. 
 She has made a new friendship, which is very
 
 94 -^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 delightful — I mean with Madame Pulteney, and 
 they hunt in couples from tea-drinking till mid- 
 night." 
 
 And how is my dear, dear old friend Sir 
 Eobert ?" continued Lady Townshend, bringing all 
 the battery of her charms, in a focus of fascination, 
 to bear on Walpole. " I thought he would have 
 been here to-night, and came quite prepared to 
 recommence our old flirtation. He is, I hope, 
 recovered ?" 
 
 " He is so, but feared the heat of all this 
 overcrowding." 
 
 " Sir Robert ill ?" put in Lady Promfret. " I 
 hope it is nothing serious." 
 
 " Oh ! he is the better of his distemper," con- 
 tinued Walpole eagerly ; " he was attacked with 
 the sort of ague — the late epidemic ; but of which, 
 in spite of doctors and their experiments, I believe 
 nobody died." 
 
 '^Experiments!" exclaimed Lady Townshend; 
 '*no two of them had the same way of Ireating 
 the disease. I wonder some Sangrado did not
 
 In which some Juveniles embrace, 95 
 
 suggest the old recipe of drinking hot water. One 
 actually did prescribe tar-water, another bleeding, 
 another starvation ; but the most rapid cure of 
 disease I ever heard of was effected in a lady of 
 my acquaintance lately by the death of a husband. 
 There ! my Lady Pomfret, you look scared out of 
 your wits ; and the loss of your fine wits would 
 be something to regret." 
 
 *^ Such a calamity as that would be far more likely 
 to kill than cure, in my opinion," answered Lady 
 Pomfret sententiously. 
 
 " That depends," replied Lady Townshend. 
 " Some constitutions might regain health, youth, 
 and vigour under the remedy, but every one has 
 not, like you, the good fortune to enjoy a perpetual 
 honeymoon ; and you look so young, so blooming. 
 Countess, you are such a perpetual spring, you must 
 tell me your secret ; you must, my dear. Upon my 
 honour, I am determined to make myself look as well 
 as you if any trick may do it, short — short of the 
 remedy I have just mentioned," she added, laugh- 
 ing, "- 1 stop at that. Do you use elder-flower
 
 g6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 water, or rotten-apple water? or hartshorn and 
 limes^ or rosemary, or Gowland ? But there is, after 
 all, I believe, no cosmetic like happiness. Alas ! 
 that is a-lotion one cannot always obtain the recipe 
 of. But you are so very happy, no wonder you 
 are beautiful." 
 
 Plainly the marchioness was quizzing. 
 
 '^ It is impossible for me to reply in equal terms 
 of praise, I regret," answered Lady Pomfret 
 grimly. " I have seen your ladyship look far 
 better than to-night." 
 
 '^ And my eyes have been telling me the same 
 thing, but — but couldn't you tell a He as I did, 
 just to say a civil thing for once. Countess ?" said 
 Lady E their eda, with a triumphant stare. 
 
 Mr. "Winnington looked grave ; he was one of 
 the wits of the escort, but it also was his office to 
 prevent the broad encounters which the wit of the 
 marchioness sometimes provoked or invited. He 
 was about to interfere with this object, but Lady 
 Townshend interposed opportunely. 
 
 " After all, Countess, what does it signify how we
 
 In luhich some Juveniles ejnbracc. 97 
 
 look ? Our day is gone by. Men will never look 
 at either of us as long as there are such handsome 
 women as your daughters in the room ; they are 
 already the rage of the town and the toast of the 
 Clubs. Lord Mountstewart and Sir Charles here 
 rave about Lady Sophia, but I have heard many 
 this evening admire Lady Charlotte ; and she is 
 more to my taste : so expressive, so inteUigent ; 
 there is an air of intellectual distinction about 
 her face that reminds me always of her mother." 
 
 *' They are good girls," replied Lady Pomfret, 
 receiving the thrust calmly, " and I value good- 
 ness more than beauty ; though other people I 
 dare say may not," she added, returning the stab. 
 
 " I belong to those peoj)le then, for I would a 
 thousand times rather be handsome than good as 
 an angel," said Lady Townshend, adjusting her 
 Mechlin pinner. " Goodness ! the boast of all 
 mopes and noodles ! A quality that any woman 
 may acquire by trying for." 
 
 " Pity 'tis not the fashion for more ladies of 
 fashion to try for it then Lady Townshend." 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 '* While, from the highest to the lowest in tlie 
 land, every one worships beauty." 
 
 " Not the highest, surely/' put in Winnington, 
 the peace-maker, " when one observes the German 
 predilections of a gracious personage. How can 
 good subjects worship beauty when it finds such 
 small favour with his Majesty ?" 
 
 *' And the taste runs strong in the family, just as 
 hereditary genius does in that of Lady Pomfret," 
 rejoined the marchioness, still eager for the 
 fray. "The Prince of Wales, like your ladyship, 
 appears only to value the beauty of the mind." 
 
 " And besides, it is the only point on which his 
 Majesty and his Royal Highness are known to 
 agree," puts in Winnington. 
 
 " Family disunion is, unfortunately, unavoidable 
 in the families of the great," observes Lady 
 Pomfret, in the pompous ex-cathedra tone 
 becoming to her erudition. '' History informs us 
 that there invariably existed jealousies and dis- 
 agreements between reigning sovereigns and 
 their heirs. All readers are aware of that.
 
 In which some yttveniles embrace. 90 
 
 Edward the Black Prince is one of the few 
 exceptions to the rule which I can recollect at 
 present : Froissart mentions as one of the great 
 qualities of the Black Prince his loyalty and 
 respect for his father." 
 
 *' The latter quality would not have been 
 perhaps so easy if the Black Prince had happened 
 to have a certain Majesty for his father," put in 
 Winning ton. " Bah ! there are fathers and 
 fathers, as well as princes and princes. Can one 
 conceive a certain nameless Majesty ever having 
 anything like a Black Prince for son ?" 
 
 " Or anything but a black prince suppose ?" 
 said Mountstewart. 
 
 " I'm for Carlton House," said Sir Charles 
 Stanningly ; " and deny that the prince is as black 
 as he is painted." 
 
 " You in Pall Mall ?" said Lord Mountstewart ; 
 " then we may hope for better things when the 
 prince associates with men of honour." 
 
 " He has ever been partial to maids of honour." 
 said Winnington. 
 
 II 2
 
 loo A Chronicle of iJie Fermors. 
 
 " Hush, there are ladies present ; you want to 
 make me blush, Mr. Winnington," said Lady 
 Townshend laughing, and taking his arm. " Lady 
 Pomfret will hear you, and she is descended from 
 a saint, a king, and a confessor — have a care !" 
 
 " But I understand that the scandal of the 
 quarrelling between the two Courts promises soon 
 to be at an end," said Lady Pomfret, with a prudish 
 look round, and a short scornful gleam at the 
 marchioness. " I understand that only this week 
 his Royal Highness sent an ambassador to the 
 Court to make peace. I have it on authority; 
 and here Mr. Walpole can corroborate or con- 
 tradict me as he pleases. Eh, Mr. Walpole? I 
 have a presentiment that we are on the eve of 
 family peace." 
 
 " Don't commit yourself, Mr. Walpole ; beware ! 
 my lady is very artful : she will betray you to the 
 prince — the Black Prince," said Lady Townshend, 
 laughing with her shrill falsetto voice. 
 
 Walpole remained silent, then, bowing with 
 mock gravity to both ladies, turned to George
 
 In zvhich some Jnveniles embrace, loi 
 
 Montagu, who opportunely passed by, and saun- 
 tered away with him from the group. 
 
 " That was a deHcate question you asked ; it 
 showed your usual discretion, my Lady Pomfret," 
 said Lady Townshend, recommencing. " A recon- 
 ciliation between the king and the prince means 
 nothing but the downfall of Sir Robert — a pretty 
 inquiry to make of so dutiful a son as our handsome 
 Horace !" 
 
 " Yet Sir Robert must give way ; it is all over 
 with both the king and the minister/' said Lady 
 Pomfret dogmatically, not addressing the mar- 
 chioness, but the assembly at large. '' Lord 
 Carteret has got his faction together for the express 
 purpose of pulling down Sir Robert, and Lord 
 Carteret is admittedly the first' statesman in 
 Europe; he succeeds in everything he turns his 
 hand to." 
 
 " 'Tis an old die-hard ; they have not half 
 beaten Sir Robert yet," said Winnington ; " giving 
 anything was never a habit of his ; and giving way 
 to his enemies, to political opponents, least of all."
 
 102 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 ^' He is fast giving way to the 2:out., though/' 
 said Lord Mountstewart. " I observed him at the 
 levee : he is breaking up." 
 
 ^' He'll not break up the faster for anything the 
 Carterets can do, though," put in Winnington. 
 
 " If he admits the gout, 'tis a sign there is not 
 much the matter with him," rejoined Lady Towns- 
 hend ; "he is very artful and as clever as his 
 son Horace." 
 
 " I abominate the son !" said Lady Pomfret ; " he 
 was one of our set at Florence ; and we saw 
 much — too much of him. He has insufferable airs 
 and conceit, and upsets me with his lackadaisical 
 way of asking questions." 
 
 " Yet he was said to admire your ladyship, or 
 else perhaps it was some member of your ladyship's 
 family," replied Lady Townshend smartly ; " how- 
 ever, I find him charming : he is always laughing 
 at me, and I adore him. Besides, he has hereditary 
 talent, and Lady Pomfret must appreciate that." 
 
 '* I don't believe in his father's indisposition 
 either," continued the Countess. '" It was the
 
 hi which some y twenties embrace. 1 03 
 
 presence of Lord Carteret he dreaded here to-night, 
 and not at all the heat of the rooms. I have poli- 
 tical knowledge enough to be aware of that." 
 
 Lady Townshend yawned undisguisedly. " Poli- 
 tics always make me so sleepy," she cried. " Are 
 there not quint and basset tables upstairs ? Can 
 we have sixpenny pharaoh. Let us try. I have 
 not seen a card since the night at Lady Bel 
 Finch's, when I was ruined by you all. Sir 
 Charles, we are going ; clear a space through the 
 doorway for my hoop." 
 
 " When both patriot and courtier sit down to 
 the same pack of cards, I think your ladyship and 
 Lady Pomfret might try the experiment together," 
 said Winnington. '* There is no such peacemaker 
 as a round game. Shall you join us at pharaoh. 
 Lady Pomfret ?" 
 
 " Or let it be a game of brag, which the Countess 
 probably understands better," said Lady Townshend 
 with a glitter of her fan. ** There is Mr. Walpole's 
 pale face again, paler than ever, I protest. Mr. 
 Walpole, do you join us ? I wish you would,"
 
 I04 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 she cried, touching his sleeve as he moved hur- 
 riedly through the press by the folding-doors. 
 
 But he bowed and passed on. He had asked 
 Lady Sophia to dance, after all, and she declined, 
 on the plea of fatigue ; then the next moment stood 
 up with Lord Holderness — and Horace Walpole 
 was making his way from the dancing-rooms. He 
 left the house and turned into White's, joined 
 a party at hazard in the card-room, and lost his 
 guineas for an hour ; then went home to Arling- 
 ton Street, and sat down to his desk to finish the 
 letter to Mann, lying open upon it. But he could 
 only write on the one subject, and concluded his 
 letter with a description of the scene he had just 
 quitted at Sir Thomas Robinson's : 
 
 " There were many great beauties," he writes. 
 " Lady Emily Lennox, Lady Euston, Lady Camilla 
 Bennet, and Lady Sophia Fermoi\ handsomer than 
 all, but a little out of humour at the scarcity of 
 minuets : however, as usual, she danced more than 
 any other lady ; and as usual, too, took out what 
 men she liked, 6>r thought tlie best dancers. Lord
 
 I7i ivhich some ytiveniles embrace. 105 
 
 Holderness is a little what Lord Lincoln will be 
 to-morrow, for he is expected. The supper was 
 served at twelve : a large table for the lady dancers ; 
 their partners and other ladies stood around. We 
 danced till four, then had tea and coffee, and came 
 home. Finis Balli." 
 
 It will be seen that Walpole did not faithfully 
 chronicle all his impressions that evening, nor 
 accurately narrate the facts as they concerned him- 
 self. It was far on into daylight when he had 
 finished his letter ; then he looked at his white face 
 in the glass with a shudder. What an object he 
 was ! But who was to blame ? Had he not wantonly 
 brought it on himself? If he had been silly 
 enough to come back again flickering round the 
 old flame, then he had singed himself for his pains, 
 and had only his folly tothank for it.
 
 io6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ESHER. 
 
 Presently Lord Lincoln returns to England ; he 
 arrives in time for the Birthday, after all ; and on 
 presentation at Court was fortunate enough to 
 attract the 'special notice of his sovereign, who, 
 contrary to custom, spoke to him for some time. 
 The royal conversation was in French, and, pleased 
 with Lincoln's accent, his Majesty pronounced him 
 the most agreeable man in England of his age, and 
 declared he should be made a lord in waiting at 
 the first opportunity. Afterwards came other 
 marks of favour •, the king presented the young 
 courtier to a very distinguished lady, who 
 addressed him in a foreign accent. Lincoln, let 
 us hope, was not indifferent to the honour, nor 
 displeased with the impression which his face
 
 Esher, 107 
 
 evidently produced, for the Grerman laundress — no, 
 countess — said, '' He was a bretty poy, and would 
 make a sliolly bortrait ; je feux absolument lafoir 
 votre bortrait mong ami, et je le garterai bien 
 pour moy," added the lady in her arch French, her 
 fat cheeks wrinkling into a tawdry grin. " You will 
 surely make a vortune in any Court where bretty 
 women have any influence," she added in the ver- 
 nacular — a condition which obviously ought to have 
 rendered his chance of pleasing hopeless on the 
 spot ; but Lincoln was careful not to express any 
 sarcasm in his eyes as he gazed reverently on the 
 Hanoverian siren, and the observation itself was 
 remarkable for a length and appropriateness which 
 the English of the royal charmer did not always 
 attain to. 
 
 However, Lincoln's debut at Court was success- 
 ful ; he had won the approval of madame, and it 
 was probably owing to the good favour of that ill- 
 favoured mistress that the king consented to a 
 cherished project of the Duke ot Newcastle's to 
 entail the dukedom on Lord Lincoln and his heirs.
 
 io8 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 His name was to be inserted in the patent, and 
 the duke, never doubting that the affair of the 
 marriage would be carried out, had paid sixty 
 thousand pounds to Lord Yane, who was next heir 
 male, to cut off the entail in order to secure the 
 estates to his nephew. Lord Yane, being in 
 embarrassed circumstances and childless, preferred 
 a large sum down to the possible chances of a 
 remote succession. 
 
 So everything was being arranged for Lord 
 Lincoln's profit and advantage. Fortune seemed 
 eager to devise new favours for him, as that tuft- 
 hunting goddess not unfrequently does in the 
 case of those who have been already surfeited with 
 her gifts. 
 
 No wonder if he should have excited the envy 
 of contemporaries of his rank, as well as the 
 admiration of his own family, and that of the 
 powerful connection which he was to acquire by 
 the marriage with his cousin. As for the duke, 
 the manners, dress, talents, taste, virtues, vices, even, 
 of the young lord, were alike the burden of his
 
 EsJier, 1 09 
 
 conversation and the theme of his praises ; his 
 pride in him was without bounds and, like all mani- 
 festations of feeling on the part of that great man, 
 expressed itself in extravagance and absurdity. 
 
 " Not only uncle duke, but even majesty itself 
 has fallen in love with him," writes Walpole, whose 
 friendship for his former travelling companion had 
 a23parently cooled. 
 
 After a few weeks in town, Lincoln dutifully 
 goes down to Esher, Henry Pelham's magnificent 
 place in Surrey : it was originally Cardinal Wolsey's 
 palace. The visit had long been looked forward to, 
 and Lincoln was received with every honour, and 
 with a cordial welcome. His affianced wife had 
 grown into a graceful and accomplished girl, who, 
 if wanting in the superlative attractions of Lady 
 Sophia Fermor, was yet well endowed with 
 personal charms. That her lover appreciated them 
 is highly probable, especially at this period of his life, 
 when smarting from a first shock to his affections. 
 There is^ perhaps, no medicine for sentimental pain 
 like the balm of a renewed flirtation with a fresh
 
 no A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 object. And very likely Lord Lincoln applied that 
 skilful treatment to his wounded self. At Esher he 
 plucked the lotos that grew in the old woods ; he 
 sauntered and dangled, and made soft speeches, and 
 no doubt filled the whole hive of Pelhams with 
 pleasure by his behaviour, and, as was natural, his 
 appearance was as much commended as his manners 
 and conduct were. That, as matter of course ; for 
 " handsome is that handsome does " was a proverb 
 in the last century, as well as now. We admire the 
 faces of those who make themselves useful or agree- 
 able to us, no matter the shape of their features. 
 So letters were galloping from country-seat to 
 country-seat in our hero's praise. These chiefly in 
 feminine handwriting, profuse in points of admi- 
 ration and enthusiastic adjectives. One young lady, 
 writing to her aunt in Kent, records triumphantly 
 how last night she had country-danced with my 
 lord ; for though regarded as an engaged man, to be 
 noticed by him was a coveted honour by marriage- 
 able maidens : ladies of all ages are of Fortune's sex, 
 and smile on those on whom the sun is shining.
 
 Esher. 1 1 r 
 
 So the neighbourhood about Esher was set 
 going to amuse the guest. There were princely 
 banquets as well as balls. Surrey gathered its 
 choicest blossoms. A couch of roses was spread for 
 our hero — no wonder if he was pleased to tumble 
 on it for a while. 
 
 Before him the board was spread with every 
 luxury ; he had only to extend his hand and help 
 himself. Every favour, every gift that fancy 
 could devise or caprice covet — save one. 
 
 How was it that he began to remember the one 
 tree which bore the fairest fruit of all — that which 
 stood in the midst of the garden, and which it was 
 death for him to gather ? Alas ! grapes do not 
 always look sour because they are merely out of 
 reach. Better for all of us if there was more truth 
 in that juvenile fable — that we took to heart the 
 lesson of that wise fox of Grascony, and gave Vi^ 
 coveting bunches which hang too high above our 
 heads. 
 
 What was there in the old manor-house of 
 Esher to make him think of Lady Sophia Fermor
 
 112 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 again ? He Lad mucli idle time on liis hands, not- 
 withstanding the racketing influx of visitors and 
 the officious hospitahty ; much pensive wandering, 
 when he was neither feasting nor dancing, nor 
 making love, nor making make-believe love — shall 
 we say ? — to anybody. Yet dangerous memories 
 did intrude themselves as he wandered through 
 the corridors where the old cardinal had pon- 
 dered and plotted, and traced out the outline of 
 his greatness, and like him, perhaps, wrestled man- 
 fully with his conscience. There were moments 
 when the echoes of evening were dying away, and 
 the last flight of rooks settled in the drowsy elms, 
 and grey twilight was falling over the grim old 
 Tudor palace. What subtle influence lurked in that 
 different scene to bring back visions of the scented 
 gardens of the Ridolfi, with the Tuscan moon 
 shimmering on the sweeping Arno ? 
 
 Perhaps, if forbidden thoughts did arise, he 
 stamped them out of his mind. He was yet a loyal 
 gentleman, although a pampered lot had softened the 
 fibre of his will and unbraced his energy. There
 
 Esher. 1 1 3 
 
 was little in him to stand against the strain of 
 enduring temptation ; he did not appreciate his 
 own extreme weakness, and perhaps waited the 
 proof of some great fall to reveal it fully. 
 
 While in this wavering and unwholesome men- 
 tal condition he might have prolonged his stay at 
 Esher indefinitely, if an incident had not arisen 
 to divert his thoughts into another channel. 
 
 This was the arrival of a young lifeguardsman 
 from town. Tommy Keats, a cousin of Lord March, 
 an associate of Lord Mahon's, and also one of Lady 
 Caroline Fanshawe's racketing set. Captain Keats 
 was not that order of man which well-balanced 
 minds admire ; not quite an improving companion, 
 perhaps ; but he was lively, and full of anecdote, 
 and altogether an agreeable person to find in a pon- 
 derous country-house ; besides, he brought down 
 odds and ends of news that were new and inter- 
 esting to Lincoln, to whom the town, in a certain 
 particular sense, was comparatively unknown. For 
 instance — 
 
 " How there was a new opera, with Bettina to 
 
 VOL. 1. I
 
 114 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 dance, and Montecelli and the Yisconti were to 
 have a thousand guineas apiece ; Amorevoli, eight 
 hundred and fifty ; how the prince and the old 
 gentleman had had another row, and things were 
 nearly as bad as ever again ; and Nourse, the old 
 blackleg, had cut his throat because Lord Windsor 
 had refused to go out with him ; together with 
 many other items of an instructive or pleasant 
 tattling character, did this young soldier relate in 
 his naturally free and dashing manner. But it 
 chanced that some of these details turned out to have 
 a special and unexpected interest for our hero. One 
 day, when in prattling mood, Keats inquired if my 
 lord knew the Lord Lempster, who had lost a hatful 
 of money to Stamer Foulkes of Farnley." And when 
 Lincoln artfully inquired who this Lord Lempster 
 was. Captain Keats became eloquent in his praises : 
 " He was a capital fellow, quite one of the right 
 sort, who had a bottle of champagne to his breakfast, 
 and played and lost as heavily as any man of his 
 standing ; quite free and off-hand with his money, 
 for he had given two hundred pounds for a
 
 Esher, n^ 
 
 foundered brown mare to O'Brien, who had just 
 been made an Irish peer. Did Lincoln know 
 O'Brien, or hear how Lady Townshend had con- 
 gratulated him on his elevation? She said that 
 every one was now an Irish peer ; that they would 
 be like Scotch lairds soon ; and that she expected 
 her fishmonger, who was a native of the same 
 island, would sign himself Lord Mountshrimp soon. 
 O'Brien did not mind. Lempster had given him 
 the money for the old screw — all he cared about. 
 By-the-way, Lempster's sister was by odds the 
 finest woman in all the town. Had Lincoln ever 
 seen Lempster's sister T 
 
 " Lady Sophia Fermor. I have seen the lady. I 
 met her abroad," was the frigid reply. 
 
 " By George ! you never have," exclaimed 
 Captain Keats. " Not this Lady Sophia, I vow. 
 She a lady ? she is a goddess, my lord, that's what 
 she is. I can testify to it, for I country-danced 
 with her at Lady Orambourne's. Ask Holderness 
 and Dashwood, and they can tell you ; though 
 Holderness is said to be the favourite. She is to 
 
 I 2
 
 ii6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 be at Sir Thomas Eobinson's other ball on the 
 second of the coming month. We are all going. 
 Are you ? Holderness and Dashwood to make the 
 running, and we outsiders, Lord Robert Sutton, 
 Billy Churchill, and myself, to look on and envy 
 them. I envy Holderness, I admit it, though 
 not a marrying man myself. Holderness can 
 give any man points and beat him for happiness, 
 if he gets her to wife. Cleverish ! sings to the 
 harpsichord ; bothers one with her Tuscan, French, 
 and so on. Goodish hair, and oh, such a figure ! 
 nothing like it anywhere. Gro to Yauxhall some 
 night and judge for yourself. Don't take my word 
 for it. She is there at Yauxhall, you can see her 
 any time ; she goes much in public. Take my 
 word, there is nothing so good anywhere else. 
 Ask Bobby Sutton about it ; ask Holderness or 
 Dashwood ; see what they will tell you." 
 
 " I have never been to Yauxhall," said Lincoln, 
 in an indifferent tone. 
 
 •* Not been to Yauxhall ! — not been to Yauxhall !" 
 Keats opened all his eyes.
 
 Esher. 1 1 7 
 
 '' Not yet. Horace Walpole promises to carry me 
 there on getting back to town," said Lincoln, feel- 
 ing ashamed of his inexperience before this little 
 rickety, angle- faced, dissipated-looking man of the 
 world, his junior by two years. 
 
 '« Why not come there with me ? I'll show you 
 Yauxhall when we get back. What innocence ! 
 How delicious ! But you know Walpole ? he goes 
 there often : we sometimes meet. The night before 
 leaving town we all went together. And look 
 here ! Walpole goes to Yauxhall to see something 
 on his own account besides. Dashwood and 
 Holderness know what it is ; they are wild jealous 
 of him, and good cause they have to be, if I know 
 anything of women and their ways." 
 
 " Jealous of Walpole ?" asks Lincoln, bewildered, 
 wondering how the fastidious Horace and this 
 frivolous little man could have become associates. 
 
 "Jealous of each other and of him — both 
 together of him ; of him most, and good cause they 
 have ; just the conceited sort of man that women 
 run after. Besides, he has been abroad, like you ;
 
 1 1 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 knows all about cracked china, the Italian names 
 of painters^ and modish things of that sort ; is 
 writing a book too, and dresses vastly fine. All 
 the fellows choose their waistcoats after him. A 
 prig, I call him, with his fine air and his spy-glass. 
 I hate all these cleverish fellows ; but, as I say, he 
 goes to Yauxhall every night looking after the 
 hair and figure like the rest of us. That is why 
 Holderness and Dashwood are so wild. A foolish 
 thing of Dashwood especially, he can't have any 
 chance any more than myself. But you don't 
 understand ? Well, he is out of all his clever senses, 
 then, about Lady Sophia Fermor. Lord ! how 
 out of the world you are not to know that!" 
 exclaimed Keats, in growing amazement at his 
 companion's dullness. 
 
 " Horace Walpole, do you mean ?" 
 
 " Horace Walpole. And oh, you should see how 
 caught he was the other night ! — a nice affair — I 
 must tell you. Lady Carry Fanshawe got him to 
 join her party to Vauxhall — ours ; the night before 
 I left town it was. You know Lady Carry ? — well,
 
 Esher, 
 
 119 
 
 you shall by-and-by. We all went off together ; 
 one party, you understand, but you should have 
 seen the colour of Walpole's face when he saw 
 the complexion of our set; he thinks so much 
 of himself, he was on thorns the whole time. I 
 laughed to see his behaviour at our misbehaviour. 
 We were such a jolly party, he would have got 
 away from us if he could ; but Lady Carry wanted 
 to have him out of spite, as Lady Bel Finch said 
 that Lady Carry's set were something or other. At 
 all events, it was a catch for her to have Walpole 
 with her in the gardens, and having him, she kept 
 him fast, to make a show, telling us all privately to 
 be on the best behaviour we could, and so we 
 were. Ohj it was the jolliest party ! Lady Carry 
 and Polly Pollard — Pollyfamous Polyphemus as 
 she is nicknamed — both raddled as thick as the 
 paint would .lie,' and as handsome as houris. We 
 sallied out into the Mall, and came along in a 
 squadron, picking up Lord March, Mrs. Beauclerc, 
 and Miss Sparre by the way — a very jolly girl — 
 the ' lost Sparre,' as she is called. I must introduce
 
 1 20 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 you to the Sparre, as well as to Lady Carry and 
 Polyphemus." 
 
 " You are very obliging." 
 
 " As we all sailed up the Mall together,* looking 
 out for every frolic, who should come down upon 
 us but my Lord Fanshawe himself. Lord ! what a 
 surprise ! Then he repassed us again, as not quite 
 sure that it was his wife, strutting by as stiff and 
 solemn as a Cambridge don with his hat over his 
 nose ; Harry Yane and I choking with laughter ; but 
 Walpole was shy, and hung on the skirts of the party, 
 as if he did not belong to it nor it to him, or notice 
 anything odd. Then Lady Carry, making the best of 
 it, called out to her lord ; but he turned on his heel 
 and moved away, as sulky as a ghost : Walpole said, 
 as a ghost that nobody would speak to first. This 
 when he had gone ; for we were all pleased at 
 getting so easily out of the scrape. Then we packed 
 ourselves into our barge, the noisiest and merriest 
 party on the river. But as Lady Carry again 
 whispered something about best behaviour, we 
 
 * The original of this expedition is in Walpole.
 
 Esher. 1 2 1 
 
 hired a boat filled with French horns to blow us 
 up stream ; this was so inspiriting, that Poly- 
 phemus gave a little cough, and began to sing. 
 Then she kept on singing like a linnet the whole 
 time we were on the water. At last we debarked. 
 To think that you have never been to Yauxhall ! 
 Talk about Rome and Florence ! there is nothing 
 in Italy to compare to it. We shall go together 
 when we get out of this hermitage. But, as I say, 
 when we debarked at Yauxhall, up comes a woman 
 named Loyd, supposed to be married to Lord 
 Haddington ; and seeing the two girls following 
 Lady Carry, calls out, ' Poor things ! I'm sorry to 
 see them in such company/ Wasn't it good ? 
 Whereupon the Sparre, who overheard, wanted 
 March to resent it, alleging for reason that though 
 she was fifteen, she had never seen a duel yet. 
 
 " March — a very good-natured fellow, you must 
 know him — March seemed disposed enough to 
 oblige her, but as we wanted supper, we got them 
 to forego the pleasure. Then we made on for the 
 booths, to have minced chickens and champagne,
 
 122 A Clu^onicle of the Fermors. 
 
 when up comes Lord Granby. You know Lord 
 Granby, Lincoln ?" 
 
 " He is a reputable character, I imagine." 
 " Then you don't know him. Granby ! Oh, he 
 was very drunk ; he had come straight from Jenny's 
 Whim, where he had dined with Lady Fanny, and 
 left her and eight other women playing at brag. 
 I said he was drunk. Walpole said it was all 
 his marriage, of which he is wondrous sick, and at 
 which he has been hiccuping ever since. How- 
 ever, it turned out that there was a special reason to 
 upset him then, for the prince had invited him 
 to Kew the night before, and won £1100, where- 
 on his Eoyal Highness stopped playing and closed 
 royally on the plunder. So poor old Granby was 
 drinking down the affair. He was troublesome 
 enough until we reached the booth and had more 
 champagne^ and Lady Carry began to mince the 
 chickens. You should have seen her do it in 
 a china dish, with three pats of butter and a 
 flagon of water, standing up before all the people, 
 the visor of her hat raised so that everybody
 
 Esher, 
 
 123 
 
 might see — looking so jolly and handsome, and 
 laughing all the time while the chickens frizzled, 
 and she stirred the spoon, and the whole stew-pan 
 seemed going to fly about our ears. The people 
 began to crowd in from all the neighbouring 
 booths and gardens to see, for it was plain we 
 were persons of quality, we were so ill-behaved. 
 
 " Then Harry Yane filled a bumper, and standing 
 up before all the people, drank their healths in a 
 mocking way. Whereupon, and all at once, the 
 Pomfrets appeared right in front of us — the Coun- 
 tess, the beauty, another daughter not by any means 
 a beauty, and some more. Their eyes followed the 
 direction of all the other eyes towards our box. 
 You should have seen Walpole's face then, to 
 be detected in such company ! He had been long 
 since hiding himself away behind the petticoats of 
 the Sparre, but when the beauty looked up, presto ! 
 our fine macaroni disappeared. Nobody could 
 say what had happened to him. It was about 
 three in the morning. Harry Yane and I laughed 
 about it all the way home. Oh ! we must have a
 
 1 24 A Chronicle of the Fer7nors. 
 
 night at Yaiixliall with Lady Carry. I will 
 persuade her to send you a card next time." 
 
 " That is a tempting prospect," said Lincoln ; 
 "almost enough to entice one away from the 
 seclusion of these pleasant woods and streams. 
 Heigh-ho ! I have been moping too much, and 
 may trust myself in your hands to discover some 
 variety. It would be a safe venture, I think," he 
 added, laughing, " if one wanted a change from 
 this rustic life of peace and plenty." 
 
 " We have Sir Thomas Robinson's on the second 
 of next month," said Keats ; " come there, and I'll 
 show you this goddess. She is certain to be there." 
 
 At this Lincoln grew pensive, but ended by a 
 sort of half promise to appear in town on the 
 second of the month, vowing mentally that he 
 would get away from Esher then, if possible to 
 do it ; but there were difficulties in the way of his 
 escape which he did not underrate. 
 
 However, the intimacy with Captain Keats 
 ripened. The young men were seen a good deal 
 together during the day ; and they did not always
 
 Esher, 125 
 
 separate, even at bed-time, it was said. There 
 were suspicions of rack-punch and other horrors 
 in the captains rooms, at ungodly hours, and 
 circumstantial evidence of debauch in red eyes 
 and fevered hands in the morning. Such proceed- 
 ings were novel in the establishment. Esher was 
 a solemn mansion, in which specimens of the black 
 sheep species had rarely been folded. Mrs. Bland, 
 the housekeeper, said that a set of Mohawks like 
 the captain and his suite had not desecrated the 
 premises in her time before ; and Lady Barbara 
 Pelham had placed a packet of tracts on the 
 guardsman's dressing-table, and in place of the 
 Louis Xy. clock on the mantelpiece, fixed an 
 engraved portrait of the Eev. Samuel Hogget, 
 formerly a clog-maker, but now the beetle-browed 
 head of the New Connection Revival meeting-house 
 in Redcross Street, Byngham Square. It had not 
 much effect, however, either on master or man, 
 as was proved by a scandalous and unhappy 
 event which presently occurred. 
 This was what came out.
 
 126 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 The captain travelled with a body servant and a 
 brace of grooms ; and it was disclosed that the for- 
 mer menial, or miscreant, for he was both, had auda- 
 ciously taken Mrs. Oicily, Mrs. Bland's head maid, 
 round the waist after supper-time, in the cross cor- 
 ridor leading to the buttery, and kissed her twice. 
 Now this was a very particular case, as Mrs. Cicily 
 was promised to the curate of the parish, and Lady 
 Barbara^ a pious and excellent woman, but a bit 
 of a matchmaker and meddler, as benevolent 
 ladies are prone to be, was making the match and 
 trying to persuade the Abigail's uncle, the rich 
 publican at Windsor, to give a hundred and fifty 
 pounds as a fortune, for the good of his soul, 
 together with the distinction for the family in 
 marrying into the Church : a sum the old tapster 
 could very well afford to pay, if he were only well 
 disposed to do it. 
 
 Now Letty Tomkyns, the buttery maid, who 
 had an eye of her own after Captain Keats's hand- 
 some young man, had seen the stolen kiss, and, 
 naturally indignant, conveyed the affair to Lady
 
 Esher. 
 
 127 
 
 Barbara, who had a shock lest the pubhcan 
 should hear of it, and find an excuse for break- 
 ing off the match and saving his money. 
 
 There was a great fuss made, and Captain 
 Tommy was called on to interfere, on the ground 
 of general morals. It was probably the first time 
 that Keats had adjudicated in the character of 
 referee in such a suit, and no wonder if, from the 
 novelty of the situation, his action was irregular, 
 as events proved. 
 
 At all events, "Wilmot, the culprit, pleaded the 
 defence of intoxication, alleging as proof the small- 
 ness of the temptation ; for, said this audacious 
 spark, *' It is evident that no man, ex'cept under the 
 influence of liquor, would sin in such a case, unless 
 a parson, perhaps, who didn't know the difference." 
 In addition to the sneer at the Church, this 
 was a way of saying that the maid was not 
 kissable on her merits, which was merely an imper- 
 tinence, as she was, in truth, a very comely young 
 woman. However, the point once raised, it was 
 said that the captain, in his character of judge, took
 
 128 A Chronicle of the Fcrmors. 
 
 an opportunity of ascertaining the fact in person 
 in order to decide it; and the upshot was that 
 there was a greater scandal, and Don Juan and 
 Leporello quitted the manor-house of Esher rather 
 suddenly. Not, indeed, in sackcloth and ashes, but 
 in the captain s new travelling coach, with a group 
 of Cupids painted on the panels ; one of the grooms 
 trotting ahead as outrider, the other acting as 
 postillion ; and Wilmot, the shameless scamp, 
 perched on the box and blowing on a twisty French 
 horn as the equipage swept down the avenue. 
 
 However, Mrs. Bland had that quarter of the 
 house fumigated, and the boards washed down with 
 a disinfecting fluid, and all trace of the captain's 
 wicked visit was obliterated ; and Lincoln moped 
 about without his pleasant companion, and found 
 the hours longer than ever ; though Lady 
 Barbara was well-pleased to see him alone, as was 
 indeed Catherine Pelham also, who had never 
 admired the little guardsman. 
 
 Lincoln_, however, had slyly arranged a meeting 
 elsewhere with his new acquaintance, and shortly
 
 Esher. 
 
 129 
 
 afterwards he succeeds in inventing a successful 
 pretext for escape, and posts up to town with all 
 speed, where he immediately announces his arrival 
 by appearing at his Clubs, and visiting several old 
 acquaintances. 
 
 VOL.
 
 130 A Chronicle of tJie Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AMANTIUM IRiE. 
 
 Meanwhile Captain Keats returned to his con 
 genial haunts, and all through Pall Mall and the 
 coffee-houses gave the history of his recent adven- 
 tures in the country. The captain was a trafficker 
 in news, not a merchant, but a small retail-dealer 
 in the article, and into such ears as were open to 
 receive his trumpery wares he unpacked his travel- 
 ling budget. Meeting the mother of Lady Sophia 
 Fermor at one of the many fashionable houses 
 which competed for the advantage of his society, 
 he naturally began to recommend himself by 
 repeating all the interesting nonsense that he 
 could remember or invent ; amongst other items, 
 how he had but come up from Esher, and found my 
 Lord Lincoln immured there : he was like the
 
 Amanthmi Ircc. 131 
 
 wandering troubadour who had discovered Coeur- 
 de-Lion a prisoner in the German baron's keep. 
 Newcastle's unhappy heir he had found mewed up 
 like a monk in a family dungeon in Surrey^ where 
 he was kept on bread and water, and racked and 
 tortured, until he should consent to accept a moon- 
 faced country heiress, that the Pelhams were 
 scheming to wive him with. Like a true knight, 
 Keats had made an effort to rescue the captive, 
 and was in some hopes of succeeding in his chari- 
 table enterprise. 
 
 This revelation stunned the Countess, and the 
 interest which it awakened, rather than the pain 
 which it gave her^ exhibited to herself that there 
 were yet thoughts connected with Lincoln lurking 
 in lier breast. Her feelings proclaimed that she 
 had not resigned all hope. Wherefore should she ? 
 A rupture such as had occurred was not neces- 
 sarilly final ; enmities arising from such causes 
 were sometimes tractable. The quarrels of lovers 
 were not always mortal affairs. But this Pelham 
 project of marriage ! The Countess perceived at 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A Chronicle of the Ferrnors. 
 
 once that a union with Miss Pelham was the like- 
 liest event ; that the duke — the entire connection — 
 would on every account promote it. 
 
 Strange that a thing so obvious had not sug- 
 gested itself to her before. Now the extreme like- 
 lihood and the suddenness of the announcement 
 coming together shocked her ; and she hated the 
 dapper little captain for having been the instrument 
 which had dealt her such a blow ; but he, with a 
 happy and unconscious glibness, continued pouring 
 out his flow of pert small-talk and gossip, until the 
 Countess turned away and left him in the midst of 
 his prattle. 
 
 However, Keats courted popularity with matrons 
 in society, and looking for a better reception else- 
 where, communicated the interesting features of his 
 sojourn at Esher to several ladies in the room. To 
 Lady Townshend amongst others, who came up to 
 the Countess with a disconsolate manner, and eyes 
 in which malice and bella-donna struggled to 
 express sympathy. 
 
 Lady Townshend reminded her friend of an
 
 Amajitium IrcF. 133 
 
 observatioii of his Gracious Majesty, " that Lord 
 Lincoln was the handsomest man in England, and 
 that the handsomest girl in England ought to be 
 his bride. " My dear Countess, if he ransacks 
 Surrey through he'll not find the handsomest girl 
 there," added Lady Townshend, stabbing her friend 
 with that flattering sentence. 
 
 Then Lady Chetwynd, one of the Florentine set, 
 hailed the Countess open-mouthed with, ^' What is 
 this I hear about Esher ? — and I telling everybody 
 that Lord Lincoln was promised to your daughter, 
 while all the time he has been engaged to his cousin." 
 
 Lady Pomfret went home that night a miserable 
 woman. She perceived that while occupied with 
 that ill-starred adventure abroad, while sitting at 
 the game with her cards up as she fancied, all the 
 world had been looking at its ease into her hand, 
 and was now chuckling at her failure. The sym- 
 pathy of intimate friends, the gaze of the whole 
 jeering town were to be borne. What an ordeal for 
 her to undergo ! and all through her own fault. 
 She should have better known human nature — his
 
 134 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 nature — than to have staked so much upon a single 
 chance : he was not one to risk his prospects for a 
 sentiment ; to choose for love when the winning 
 colour of ambition was readiest to his hand. Lady 
 Pomfret was as wise after the fact as many other 
 philosophers are, and bitterly repented her indis- 
 cretion while tasting the fruits of it. It was little 
 consolation to learn that, in point of beauty, 
 Catherine Pelham was not to compare with even 
 the plainest of her daughters ; that small triumph 
 could not cheer her. However, an unexpected event 
 came suddenly to change the current of her regrets. 
 Lord Lincoln suddenly made his appearance in 
 the world. The Countess saw him for the first time 
 at a ball at the Spanish Embassy. He did not 
 see her, he affected even not to notice Lady 
 Sophia ; but if he did not, his were the only 
 self-denying eyes in the room, for all others were 
 engaged in gazing at her then. Never had she 
 appeared so beautiful. A group of admiring beaux 
 surrounding her — the best men in town, famous 
 dandies, misogynists who had never bent knee to
 
 Atnantiitm Irce. 
 
 ^ZS 
 
 beauty before, were there telling their beads before 
 her shrine, bowing their powdered periwigs. 
 
 When from a safe position the Countess ventured 
 to steal a detective glance round the room, Lincoln 
 had already disappeared ; and later she learned that 
 he had gone away with Keats to a supper-party at 
 Lady Caroline Fanshawe's. It was perhaps a con- 
 solation for her to learn that this superfine 
 gentleman had already at his entrance into the 
 world become one of Lady Caroline's racketing 
 band. 
 
 Yet Lincoln had done well ; he sought to save 
 himself by honourable flight from temptation. There 
 are times when the most heroic action of a warrior 
 may be to turn his back to the enemy. But hero- 
 ism was always shortlived with Lincoln, and so the 
 second ball at Sir Thomas Eobinson s came round, 
 and he went there again, although fully conscious 
 of the peril which he encountered. 
 
 This time they met. He intended to pass her 
 with a mere salute, but he spoke to her also in 
 passing ; it was but a word, yet she was troubled.
 
 136 A Chronicle 0/ the Fermors. 
 
 and scarcely answered ; her emotion was visible to 
 every one near. Then she left Mr. Dashwood's 
 arm abruptly, and in a rapid way took a seat : 
 she was deadly pale. Lincoln was beside her in a 
 moment; he found a seat also, and remained there. 
 
 Mr. Dashwood had been promised the next 
 minuet, and at this very inopportune moment 
 ventured to remind Lady Sophia of his hopes ; but 
 she had done with dancing for that evening, and 
 Dashwood, a conceited hidalgo, who dressed in 
 dark velvets in harmony with his Spanish air and 
 breeding, went off in a fume both from the lady 
 and the house as Lincoln and Lady Sophia quitted 
 the crowded dancing-room in search of a more 
 congenial locality for a tete-a-tete. 
 
 "There goes your prisoner of Esher," said 
 Lady Townshend to Captain Tommy ; '^ he was not 
 worth rescuing after all : he has only escaped from 
 his country jailers to find a worse fate in town ; it 
 seems all over with him already." 
 
 When presently, in the discharge of her matronly 
 office, the Countess went to search for her daughter.
 
 Amantium Irce. *i37 
 
 she found her on the arm of Lord Lincohi. Her 
 surprise and confusion at the sight deprived her 
 of the power of speech and of presence of mind 
 until she was revived by Lincoln, who pre- 
 sented his hand and addressed her, politely 
 speaking of the heat and overcrowding, as if there 
 never had been any misunderstanding at all. 
 
 Such a sudden and extraordinary turn of events 
 had never happened in the experience of the 
 Countess before, and there were bystanders to 
 witness it : Horace Walpole on one side, and Lady 
 Townshend on the other. It was an odd coincidence 
 that Walpole should have been by at the meeting 
 of the lovers. In his letter of this date we find : 
 
 " Lady Townshend told me an admirable story 
 of our friend Lady Pomfret. Somebody that 
 belonged to the Prince of Wales said he was 
 going to Court ; it was objected that he ought to 
 have said going to Carlton House ; that the^only 
 Court was where the king ruled. Lady Pomfret, 
 with her paltry air of insignificant learning and 
 absurdity, said, ' Oh Lord ! is there no Court in
 
 138 A Chronicle 0/ the Fennors. 
 
 England but the king's? Sure there are many 
 more : there is the Court of Chancery, the Court 
 of Exchequer, the Court of King's Bench, &c.' 
 Don't you love her? Lord Lincoln does her 
 daughter. He is come over, and met her the other 
 night : he turned pale when he saw her, spoke to 
 her several times in the evening, but not long at a 
 time, and sighed to me at going away." How 
 Walpole must have grimaced at those sighs ! how 
 careful to note that he spoke to her several times, 
 but not long ! His envious eyes reckon the minutes, 
 and his pen, like an electrical needle, indicates 
 every expression of passion, every movement in 
 the lover's progress. Here he writes again : " The 
 fine Mr. Pitt is arrived : I dine with him to-day 
 at Lord Lincoln's with the Pomfrets ; so now the 
 old jmrtie quarrSe is complete again. The earl is 
 not quite cured, and a partner in sentiments may 
 help to open the wound again." 
 
 Being once fairly rekindled, the old flame rises 
 quickly into a blaze, and things had already 
 progressed so rapidly that at a third ball at Sir
 
 Ainaiitmni Irce. 
 
 39 
 
 Thomas Kobinson's — Sir Thomas kept the fiddlers 
 busy that season — it was already necessary for the 
 lovers to observe a certain degree of caution in 
 their intercourse. On that occasion there was a 
 special reason for it, as the great duke himself 
 was among the company, and it was important not 
 to awake suspicions : accordingly, a little comedy 
 is performed, which our observant Walpole care- 
 fully notes down : 
 
 "Lord Lincoln, out of prudence, danced with 
 Lady Caroline Fitzroy, and Mr. Conway with Lady 
 Sophia Fermor. The two couples were just mis- 
 matched, as everybody soon perceived by the 
 attentions of each man to the woman he did not 
 dance with. It was an admirable scene." The 
 " admirable scene " is another glimpse of Walpole's 
 jealousy, which peeps out or lurks in every line that 
 he writes with reference to Lady Sophia at this 
 period ; he cannot forgive Lincoln's return to 
 favour. He has again come in Walpole's way in 
 the affair, and he suffers for it : the rival never 
 lifts his eves off him afterwards, and his most
 
 140 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 trifling peccadilloes are transmitted to posterity. 
 Farther on comes the passage : " The ball brolce 
 up at three, but Lincoln, Lord Holderness, Lord 
 Robert Sutton, young Churchill, and a dozen more 
 grew jolly ; stayed till seven in the morning, and 
 drank thirty-two bottles." Even his share of the 
 thirty-two bottles is accurately marked down. 
 
 No sooner was it certain that Lincoln had 
 returned to his allegiance than the Countess 
 began to assume personal airs becoming to her 
 position as mother to the lady that Lord Lincoln 
 adored : it was one of her defects to anticij)ate her 
 fortunes in this way : she was very fond of eating 
 her corn in the green, as the French say, and 
 often did mischief by her impetuous greediness. 
 The sun was shining again, you see, and the 
 ambition of the Countess, which had drooped in 
 the wintry weather, began to raise its head and 
 revive, and expand its petals under the genial 
 influence of prosperity. So she began to put people 
 rather into their places in a quiet way, and even to 
 weed out her acquaintances with some energy —
 
 AniantiMvi IrcE. 141 
 
 already ! It was soon for that. She was sometimes 
 blind to all but the most considerable people in a 
 ball-room ; she cut Mr. Dashwood point-blank, and 
 told Lord Holderness that he was deficient in wit ; 
 which was indeed true, as he was anything but a 
 brilliant young nobleman. Perhaps she may have 
 divided some oi this complimentary manner with 
 Walpole also — very likely ; for when in the givmg 
 vein the Countess did not always discriminate, and 
 her vanity sometimes overran her discretion. At 
 all events, whether because of his own disappoint- 
 ment about Lady Sophia, or of her mother's 
 insolence, Walpole' s bitterness becomes suddenly 
 more virulent than ever. 
 
 '' You have no notion how I laughed at the man 
 that talks nothing but Madeira,'' he writes. " I told it 
 to my Lady Pomfret, concluding it would divert her 
 too^ and forgetting that she repines when she should 
 laugh, and reasons when she should be diverted. 
 She asked gravely what language that was ? That 
 Madeira being subject to an European prince, to be 
 sure they talk some European dialect ! The grave
 
 142 A Chronicle of tJie Fermors. 
 
 personage! It was of a piece with her saying, 
 * that Swift would have written better if he had 
 never written hidicrously,' " 
 
 At this time also, Lady Pomfret gave her 
 daughter private lectures on behaviour and proper 
 sentiments, for close maternal supervision and care- 
 ful maternal direction were, in the opinion of the 
 Countess, indispensable to one in the position of 
 Lady Sophia. The action of the mother, however, 
 does not appear to have been sufficiently disguised 
 or discreet, for Walpole notes that — 
 
 " Her schemes and plottings are the amusement 
 of the town. The Duke of Grafton said they were 
 like a troop of Italian comedians ; Lord Lincoln 
 was Yalere, Lady Sophia Columbine, and my lady, 
 the old mother behind the scenes." 
 
 But he is careful to mark the progress of the 
 courtship in every particular ; he is like a physician 
 feeling the pulse and observing symptoms ; and 
 every circumstance bearing on the case goes down 
 into his note-book. 
 
 " In due time," he writes, " Lord Holderness
 
 Amantiurn Irce. 143 
 
 came forward with an offer, and was refused ; and 
 Mr. Dash wood shortly after attempted his fate, 
 with like result." 
 
 Both these gentlemen were marked down as 
 dead birds to my Lady Sophia's archery, and hence- 
 forth declined from the scene. They had each 
 selected the losing casket, and Jessica ushered 
 them forth over the threshold of fair Portia's 
 palace. Followed some less distinguished wooers, 
 who shared the same fate — nameless dead — and then 
 everybody retired, leaving Lincoln in his eminence 
 alone. The hopelessness of any other suit was uni- 
 versally recognised. This was not only the general 
 impression, but was shared by the friends and con- 
 nections of the family. The news reached Lady Mary 
 Montagu in Italy ; she was cousin to Lord Lincoln ; 
 and in March 1742 she writes to Lady Pomfret : 
 
 " I am extremely glad to hear that your affairs 
 are settled to your satisfaction. I expect Lady 
 Sophia will be so very soon, if my correspondents 
 in England are not much mistaken. I shall then 
 have the honour of being her relation ; and as I
 
 144 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 have had a long and famihar acquaintance with 
 her lover, both at Rome and Florence, I think he 
 has uncommon merit, which may deserve her 
 uncommon beauty, which I am told is the admi- 
 ration of her own country, as it was of every other 
 through which she passed." 
 
 Afterwards it is evident that Lady Mary was 
 surprised at the delay of the marriage, as she 
 writes again : 
 
 " Apropos of angels, I am astonished Lady 
 Sophia does not condescend to leave some copies of 
 her face for the benefit of posterity. It is quite 
 impossible she could not command what matches 
 she pleases. I am still of opinion it depends only 
 on herself to be my relation." 
 
 Yet, oddly, these rumours seemed to excite 
 no attention in the Pelham family. Lincoln's 
 proceedings must have been known to them, yet 
 there was no remonstrance. Perhaps it was 
 prudence, perhaps shortsightedness. They might 
 have known him too well to irritate his vanity 
 by interference with his liberty, or too little to
 
 Amantmm Irce, 145 
 
 believe him capable of jeopardizing his prospects 
 by a serious imprudence. At all events they ab- 
 stained from interference, and suffered those who 
 were in the secret of the engagement to wonder 
 at their ease. 
 
 However, Miss Pelham's extreme youth was a 
 fortunate circumstance for all parties, most of all 
 for Lincoln, as by preventing her appearance in 
 society it saved him from the dilemma of having 
 to pay addresses to rival ladies in the same ball- 
 room. Yet he was sleeping on a mine that might 
 explode at any moment. The certainty of a cata- 
 strophe was none the less for being remote, and at 
 every fresh step he involved himself deeper. The 
 temptation overpowered him, as well on the side 
 of vanity as of passion, and either motive would 
 have been too much for him single-handed. It 
 was enough to turn the head of a lesser coxcomb 
 to find that, of all the worshippers at this shrine of 
 beauty, he alone was the favoured one ; that for 
 him only the portals of the sanctuary were open. 
 Could he think that it was merely the Duke of 
 
 VOL. 1. L
 
 146 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Newcastle's fortunate heir who had surpassed so 
 many gifted rivals ? It is the superb feat of get- 
 ting beyond one's fellows which is the real charm 
 of life after all ; not wealth or pleasure, or rank. 
 Lincoln felt that he must now ride on this race to 
 the end and, come crashing past the winning post, 
 happen what would after. The impetus was on 
 him ; it was too late to look behind or calculate 
 what other consequences might follow. He 
 was on with the new love, but not yet off with 
 the old, and he had not yet, perhaps, made an 
 election between the claims of new and old. So 
 that with all his gifts of fortune, and his many 
 successes, he must have had many an unenviable 
 and uneasy hour of it. Walpole, still looking on, 
 hazards an opinion of his own on his proceedings ; 
 at this time he drops the pithy sentence : 
 
 "I have seen Lady Pomfret lately, but I am 
 sure Lord Lincoln is not going to marry her 
 daughter." . 
 
 But Walpole' s eyesight was not clear on this sub- 
 ject ; the wish was father to the thoughl with him.
 
 ( H7 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DRIFTING TO WRECK. 
 
 While the gay world of London was occupied in 
 its own way, an exciting political crisis arose in 
 Parliament. The struggle for power between Sir 
 Robert Walpole and his opponents had reached its 
 height, and the utmost strength was exercised by 
 both sides ; debates eloquent and brilliant, pointed 
 with sarcasm, were protracted until morning. 
 Marvellous ingenuity was displayed by either side 
 in plotting and counter-plotting, and the oddest 
 devices were employed to entrap voters and 
 surprise the enemy. Sick and dying men, 
 patients blistered and swathed in flannel, were 
 carried into the House on stretchers to assist the 
 divisions. 
 
 On one occasion, three members, too ill to be 
 
 2 L
 
 1 48 A Chro7iiclc of the Fermors. 
 
 introduced any other way, were kept in readiness 
 in Parliament Buildings, at the house of Sir 
 Eobert's son, the auditor of the Exchequer, to be 
 carried into the House by a private door of com- 
 munication when the division bell rang ; but some 
 of the other party, hearing of the project, filled the 
 lock of the communicating door with sand, so that 
 it was found impossible to open it in time to 
 secure the votes. 
 
 Each side was equally energetic, and unscrupulous 
 as to ways and means, and the heat of contest 
 extending outside the walls of Parliament, began 
 to permeate through the pores of society and infect 
 every class of any importance in London. The 
 notorious divisions at Court were aggravated by 
 the conflict of parties ; the influence of the Crown 
 being on the side of Sir Robert, while the Prince of 
 Wales, in person, solicited votes for the Opposition. 
 Consequently society began to divide into partizan- 
 ship, and each drawing-room of any note to select 
 its political colour. There were Capulets and Mon- 
 tagues in the same ball-room. Court macaroni^ and
 
 D rifling to Wreck, 149 
 
 Opposition fine ladies, who kept rigidly aloof in 
 hostile parties. 
 
 One social inconvenience arising from the state 
 of things was the protraction of the Parliamentary 
 session. This was beyond all precedent. Fami- 
 lies of distinction found themselves compelled to 
 remain in town, and among these the Pomfrets. 
 Week after week Parliament continued to drag on 
 without question or hope of prorogation ; the faster 
 business was done, remoter the end appeared, until 
 at length, losing patience and temper at the delay, 
 Lady Pomfret packed up her family, husband, 
 sons, daughters and all^ and posted down to the 
 family mansion of Easton Neston, near Towcester, 
 in Northamptonshire. They were already settled 
 in the country before the final crash came, 
 when Parliament broke up, and Sir Eobert, after 
 holding ground against repeated majorities, at 
 length gave way to Carteret, vanquished no less 
 by the great ability and eloquence than by the 
 overwhelming influence of his rival. Yet this 
 change, although foreseen, took everybody by
 
 j5o a Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 surprise when it came ; for notwithstanding the fall 
 of Sir Eobert, the Pelhams managed still to remain 
 in power^ and Mr. Pelham and the Duke of 
 Newcastle became members of the new adminis- 
 tration. This diminished the triumph of the 
 achievement, and gave the whole affair the look of 
 a compromise. 
 
 This success of the Pelhams would have annoyed 
 Lady Pomfret if she had not been at the moment 
 occupied with sore domestic troubles which fully 
 absorbed her attention. These were of a pressing 
 as well as of a personal nature. It was discovered 
 that the family estate had been mismanaged in 
 every way : tenants were in arrear ; farms, woods, 
 and flocks had been neglected ; the man of business 
 had grown rich ; the steward had blundered ; and 
 as the feasting, travelling, and extravagance of the 
 past two years had left the bank account in bad 
 repair, it was not pleasant to find that the resources 
 of the estate were also drained. But there were 
 other causes of anxiety besides. Lord Lempster 
 confessed to a few liabilities incurred under peculiar
 
 Drifting to Wreck. 151 
 
 circumstances ; debts both of honour and dishonour, 
 that, however, claimed to be discharged forthwith. It 
 was a respectable list enough, considering his tender 
 age, which the young gentleman disclosed, although 
 he probably had not benefited his soul by an open 
 confession of all his liabilities. Ultimately, it be- 
 came a question of the sale or mortgage of a couple 
 of farms, to take the heir out of his present dif- 
 ficulties ; so that he had already contrived to poke 
 some substantial plums out of the family pudding, 
 and foreshadowed that career of extravasrance 
 
 o 
 
 which ruined him afterwards. 
 
 Great lady as she was, still, like John Gilpin's 
 wife. Lady Pomfret had a frugal mind ; and 
 perceived that immediate retrenchment and a 
 prudent revision of the estate, helped by a judicious 
 shabbiness, would be necessary in order to appear 
 next season in town with a restored exchequer. 
 Accordingly, she had interviews with the agent 
 and the stewards, organised a plan of retrenchment, 
 and set courageously to the work of reconstruction. 
 Certain turbary rights which the villagers had
 
 15a A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 enjoyed were withdrawn, and the mountain squat- 
 ters — tenants at will — who had by their labour re- 
 claimed a waste area of heath and snipe tract, 
 were ruthlessly dispossessed and driven on the 
 world. The crowbar went to work, and their 
 humble cabins were levelled. It was like an Irish 
 estate in modern times before — or possibly after — 
 the passing of a great remedial measure by a con- 
 scientious statesman and a bullying majority. The 
 local Bench, too, sustained the progress of im- 
 provement on the Pom fret estate in that free, round- 
 hand-justice fashion which still prevails in that 
 regenerated island across the channel. A vagrant 
 woman, taken in labour by the roadside, had eaten 
 some vegetables snatched from over the fence, and 
 was, with her baby, sent to prison for a month — 
 there were two parsons on the Bench — Carroty 
 Sykes was set in the stocks for having whistled 
 disrespectfully through his fingers as " my Earl's " 
 carriage drove up the village street ; and the village 
 tapster was cautioned against permitting boozing 
 clowns to comment on the actions of their lawful
 
 Drifting to Wreck. 153 
 
 betters. The " floodgates " were well-hammered 
 down by the dispensers of Northamptonshire law — 
 no danger to society from Kadical turbulence in 
 that quarter ; and the Countess never troubled her 
 head about village popularity if she could only 
 make a guinea by screwing and scraping. 
 
 But, besides its business advantages, a temporary 
 season of retirement in the country was useful in 
 other respects. Lady Sophia required rest after the 
 fatigues and excitement of the town. She was also 
 anxious to have a few months' meditation in the old 
 home of Easton. It might be for the last time. The 
 nurseries and schoolrooms, gardens and terraces, 
 which she had known as a half-formed girl, might 
 never be seen during her maidenhood again. 
 Who could tell what might happen in a short time ? 
 Ere another summer, perhaps, a very great 
 personage, and the happiest of brides, might visit 
 the old manor-house — the Countess of Lincoln in 
 person. She had her own fancies on the subject, 
 and, no doubt, private reasons for indulging them 
 which no third person could appreciate. Also, re-
 
 154 ^ Chronicle of the Ferniors, 
 
 tirement at this particular season was sympathetic, 
 and bore a graceful aspect from the sentimental side, 
 as Lord Lincoln himself had been obliged to go into 
 the country for a while. The duke had expressly 
 commanded his nephew to a round of duty visits, 
 chiefly among members of the Pelham family, and 
 possibly with a view of withdrawing him from the 
 influence of certain dangerous associations in town. 
 Perhaps it was not judicious to hurry a hotheaded 
 youth into the midst of a family which was begin- 
 ning now to exhibit some offence at his conduct ; 
 but the duke's forte lay not in discretion, but 
 duplicity ; he was never at rest but when 
 concealed motives were the groundwork of his 
 actions. • His delight was in subterranean labour. 
 Sir Robert Walpole said, '* The Duke of Newcastle 
 has a foolish head and a perfidious heart : his name 
 is perfidy ;" and our Horace, on sending a list of 
 mock receipts to George Montagu, puts down for 
 " capital weaknesses " the Duke of Newcastle's true 
 spirit of crocodiles, because of his facility of shedding 
 tears at will upon every occasion. Yet he was an
 
 Drifting to Wreck, 155 
 
 exceedingly coarse actor, and never deceived any- 
 body witli his tears, or produced other effect than to 
 exhibit himself as the caricature and the buffoon 
 which he was by nature. But in the estimation of 
 the Pelhams and of his own faction he was the 
 greatest man in England ; and Lord Lincoln es- 
 pecially had a thorough belief in the rectitude of 
 his character and the distinction of his talents. 
 
 When, therefore, the duke proposed that they 
 were to travel together into the country, the 
 nephew readily agreed ; and it was ultimately ar- 
 ranged that the latter was to remain at Clare- 
 mont, the residence of the Orleans family in our 
 time, until release from the duties of office should 
 enable the duke to join him there : then uncle and 
 nephew were to travel together to Nottingham, and 
 visit the family estates^ arrange about drainage, 
 planting, reclamations, and other matters of busi- 
 ness, until the setting in of the shooting season, when 
 the earl was pledged to join a party in Scotland. 
 
 Perhaps Lord Lincoln was also pleased at 
 having a season of retirement ; a crisis in his life
 
 156 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 was approaching. It was time, indeed, that he 
 should pause and look into himself, and estimate 
 at a proper value the many complexities of the 
 labyrinth into which he had travelled. Had he 
 truly made up his own mind at last, even yet, at 
 the eleventh hour ? Could he hit upon any way of 
 reconciling his obligations towards each of the 
 ladies of whom he was at once the recognised, if 
 not the accepted lover ? The thing began to be 
 pressing ; the time to choose was coming very 
 near : a determination would presently be forced 
 upon him — inevitably forced. He should be asked 
 to redeem his plighted word, or to abjure it ; to 
 decide which of the two ladies he should forsake, 
 and accept the conditions of his election. The 
 house was on fire, and he had apparently no 
 choice left, except to burn, or jump out of the 
 window. Yet he hesitated. There are persons 
 so placed who yet will neither save themselves 
 by a spring, nor consent to be burned; who, under 
 the approach of a certain catastrophe, will still 
 find special reasons for neglecting to get out
 
 Drifting to Wreck. 157 
 
 of the way in time. Lord Lincoln, like all 
 weak men, was inexhaustible at inventiug excuses, 
 and imposing upon himself with false maxims 
 and arguments. In this special case he tried to 
 think that he would act honestly for the future. 
 The past was past, he could not mend that; 
 but having been so unfortunate as to get into 
 a difficulty, he would at least be straightforward 
 and manly enough in getting out of it ; that was 
 the form of his resolution : but his manliness 
 always came too late. It would have been 
 intolerable to him to contemplate his conduct 
 in the light which any third person should view 
 it in : his was always an exceptional case ; he was 
 influenced by motives and feelings which no one 
 else could appreciate ; and under the special plea 
 of these superfine motives he managed so to tamper 
 with his conscience as to find a verdict of 
 acquittal for himself. ' * Almost decided " was a 
 favourite phrase with him; and he had almost 
 decided, so extreme was the actual crisis, on casting 
 himself on the affection of his uncle duke by
 
 158 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 avowing everything, and seeking his direction or 
 advice. This would have been a daring course 
 enough — to confess that he had changed his inten- 
 tions towards his cousin, that he was disinclined 
 to consummate an alliance which the old man 
 himself had already arranged, and regarded 
 with extraordinary interest. But Lincoln was 
 really far away from doing anything so straight- 
 forward and decided as that. When he perceived 
 that in travelling with the duke many a favour- 
 able oj)portunity must arise for such a confidence_, 
 a host of excellent reasons came up at once to put 
 the matter out of his head. He argued that the 
 duke, worried by state affairs, and exhausted by 
 the excitement of late political events, was not in 
 a state of mind to receive so unwelcome a confi- 
 dence. The old man needed rest to restore his 
 declining health, and if suddenly subjected to a 
 shock, serious consequences might follow. So 
 Lincoln had a string of excellent ready-made 
 reasons for holding his tongue. Besides, the mere 
 pleasure of the duke was an important considera-
 
 Drifting to Wreck. 159 
 
 tion. The tie of blood was very strong in him, as 
 in all of his race. The Pelhams always held to- 
 gether in social as well as political combinations, 
 and this habit of cohesion was one secret of their 
 great political success. 
 
 So from one motive or another Lincoln contrived 
 to complete his tour without referring to his own 
 aifairs or attempting to discharge the obligation 
 which his conscience held to be so binding. 
 
 The summer drew to a close, the shooting 
 season was near ; but before it came the Earl of 
 Essex died, and Lord Lincoln was appointed 
 Lord of the Bedchamber in his place. Lord 
 Carteret getting the vacant blue ribbon. 
 
 Then came an unexpected piece of news. It 
 showed that if he had beaten other rivals from the 
 field, all Lady Sophia's suitors had not died of 
 their wounds. Before leaving for Scotland, 
 Lincoln learned that Lord Holderness had 
 brought over a Dutch bride from the Hague, and 
 the Hon. Mr. Dashwood had married Miss Ellis, 
 a well-endowed heiress, with a tolerable figure.
 
 i6o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CURTAHS- RISES. 
 
 In the height of the pressure of puhlic aifairs 
 during the next season the king thought fit to get a 
 bad attack of the Hanover fit, and what with the in- 
 crease of business caused by extraordinary pohtical 
 complications, added to the caprices of royalty, 
 urging expedition at any cost, ministers were at 
 their wits' end how to manage. The king said it 
 was intolerable that his personal comfort should be 
 interfered with by state affairs ; that in the interests 
 of the English people, whom he cordially detested, 
 he should be put out of his German ways which he 
 adored ; that he would not consent any longer to 
 be the slave of his subjects or his servants ; and 
 finally, as an ultimatum, his addled ministers were 
 informed that they would have to settle things with
 
 The Citrtain Rises. i6i 
 
 « 
 Parliament as best they might, for come what 
 
 would of it, the end of May would see the sacred 
 
 person out of London. Walpole writes : 
 
 *' Hanover is the word given out for this winter. 
 There is a most bold pamphlet come out, said to be 
 Lord Marchmont's, which afSrms that in every 
 treaty made since the accession of this family 
 England has been sacrificed .to the interests of 
 Hanover, and consequently insinuates the incom- 
 patibility of the two. Lord Chesterfield says, 
 ' That if we have a mind effectually to prevent the 
 Pretender from ever obtaining this crown, we 
 should make him Elector of Hanover, for the 
 people of England will never fetch another king 
 from thence.' " 
 
 Lady Mary Montagu describes the king as '* an 
 honest blockhead," and says that '' Fortune, which 
 made him king, added nothing to his happiness ; 
 only prejudiced his honesty and shortened his days. 
 No man was ever more free from ambition : he loved 
 money, but loved to keep his own, without being 
 rapacious of other men's. He would have grown 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 A Chronicle of the Ferniors. 
 
 rich by saving, but was incapable of laying schemes 
 for getting : he was more properly dull than lazy, 
 and would have been so well contented to have 
 remained in his little town of Hanover, that if the 
 ambition of those about him had not been greater 
 than his own, we should never have seen him in 
 England ; and the natural honesty of his temper, 
 joined with the narrow notions of a low education, 
 made him look upon his acceptance of the crown 
 as an act of usurpation, which was always uneasy 
 to him. But he was carried by the stream of 
 people about him in that, as in every other action 
 of his life. He could speak no English, and was 
 past the age of learning it. Our customs and laws 
 were all mysteries to him, which he neither tried 
 to understand nor was capable of appreciating." 
 Every device was, however, employed to prolong 
 the stay of his Majesty in town, and this was one 
 reason why, notwithstanding the political interest 
 of the period, the season was gay beyond all 
 precedent. Walpole writes : '* We have just set 
 out in an opera, in what they call the French
 
 The Curtain Rises. 163 
 
 manner, but about as like it as my Lady Pomfret's 
 hash of plural persons and singular verbs or 
 infinite moods was to Itahan." 
 
 However, profusion in entertainments, prodi- 
 gality and extravagance, especially in dress, had 
 never been surpassed. Masquerades, which had 
 just been introduced, afforded special scope for this 
 indulgence, and became at once the folly and the 
 rage of the aristocracy. These entertainments had 
 been brought into England from France, for Paris 
 then regarded London as a provincial town, a 
 century behind in civilisation and luxury ; and a 
 popular poet makes the typical French fop inquire 
 of the Englishman visiting Paris : 
 
 " Has Christianity yet reached your nation ? 
 Are churches built ? Are masquerades in fashion ?" 
 
 These masquerades had been introduced by the 
 celebrated Heidigger mentioned in the ' Dunciad/ 
 and were first held at the King's Theatre in the 
 Hay market. Every precaution was taken to keep 
 the company exclusive. '' Persons of quality " 
 were publicly requested not to lend their names to 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A CJironiclc of the Fermors. 
 
 obtain tickets, and when they had tickets to spare, 
 to send them to the office in the Haymarket, where 
 they would be repurcliased ; but, in spite of every 
 precaution, the vulgar tide trickled in through the 
 exclusive barriers^ and the company became so 
 mixed, that afterwards masquerades were given at 
 private houses. 
 
 The king himself was present at an entertain- 
 ment at Norfolk House this season, which in 
 magnificence outshone the splendours of the ^ Ara- 
 bian Nights,' and for invitations to which there 
 was as much plotting and interest employed as 
 to obtain a place in the cabinet. In truth, one 
 of the proposed objects of the ball was to amuse his 
 Majesty, and keep him quiet for a while. 
 
 The duke squandered a fortune on the one 
 night's display. The mansion was newly deco- 
 rated for the royal visit. Eight hundred wax 
 candles illuminated the ball-room, and also marked 
 a surprising epoch in the progress of light ; for 
 at this period the dingy mutton-suet luminary was 
 snuffed out for ever, and henceforth the vestal wax
 
 The Curtain Rises. 165 
 
 alone gladdened our great-grandmothers' chande- 
 liers. The streets leading to Norfolk House were 
 impassable with the crowds assembled to see the 
 company arrive ; and all the leading tradespeople 
 in London had been employed in the preparations. 
 Even the stock in trade of the jewellers' shops 
 was eagerly bought up, and the price of brilliants 
 rose in the market. Franks, the jeweller, lent the 
 Princess of Wales £40,000 worth of diamonds free 
 of charge, on condition of admitting that they were 
 his property. Her satin petticoat was literally 
 encrusted with gems. What a royal advertising 
 medium the clever tradesman had secured! 
 
 His Majesty was in excellent temper, and con- 
 descended to be pleased with all the arrangements 
 at Norfolk House, although the prince and princess 
 were also present ; the princess in her blazing petti- 
 coat, frosted with borrowed splendour, must have 
 been a trying object for royal as well as ordinary 
 eyes, yet there were other guests arrayed with 
 almost equal magnificence. 
 
 The most remarkable pair of masques were the
 
 1 66 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Duke and Duchess of Eichmond, as Henry VII [. 
 and Jane Seymour, ''exceedingly rich, and 
 both so handsome." Our eye-witness observes, 
 Horace himself, as Aurengzebe, wore one of the 
 most gorgeous dresses in the room. He does not 
 admit that he had any interest in seeking to look 
 his best upon this occasion ; but, as Lady Sophia 
 was present, we may draw our conclusions. Lady 
 Pomfret and " my Earl " appeared the most absurd 
 figures ; with scallop-shell and staff, they trudged 
 in as pilgrims ; and my Lady looked as heated as 
 if actually returned from performing a pilgrimage. 
 She was not so heated, however, as to lose her pre- 
 sence of mind, or miss an opportunity of flattering a 
 Royal Highness if the chance arose, for finding 
 herself beside the Princess of Wales in the Long 
 Grallery, she made a forward courtesy, and in her 
 character of pilgrim, committed the mistake of 
 taking the Princess for the Lady of Loretto, on 
 account of her resplendent petticoat. When the 
 king arrived there was a pause in the pro- 
 ceedings, and a momentary hush in the music.
 
 The Curtain Rises. i6y 
 
 Then a band of Faussans — opera-dancers hired 
 for the occasion — came forward and danced an 
 entree. After which the dancing recommenced, 
 while the king went about the room, and spoke 
 to everybody. He was extremely affable, and 
 Lady Pomfret somehow arranged to be among the 
 everybodies whom his Majesty noticed. The 
 maternal heart of that good pilgrim was in a con- 
 tinued flutter that evening. His Majesty had 
 spoken to her ; the august presence had brought 
 tears — tears of joy — into her eyes by referring 
 to the beauty of her daughter ; vowing that Lady 
 Sophia was the handsomest woman out of Han- 
 over, and that old Newcastle's pretty nephew 
 almost deserved his luck. His Majesty had a 
 happy knack of saying wrong and awkward 
 things precisely at the most unfortunate moment, 
 and the wrong part of this was that a great lady 
 of the Pelhams was standing by, and congratulated 
 Lord Lincoln afterwards on the unlucky compli- 
 ment. The reader remembers that Lord Lincoln 
 was already a Lord of the Bedchamber, and quite
 
 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 a royal favourite. At this ball he cast aside all 
 
 prudence and disguise : either he was heedless or 
 
 desperate, or perhaps intoxicated by the vanity of 
 
 his position as recognised lover of so much beauty, 
 
 or he had at last made up his mind and determined 
 
 to brave his fate. He paid glaring attention 
 
 to Lady Sophia all night ; the pair danced together 
 
 frequently, and were the talk, as well as admiration 
 
 of the room. When they performed a minuet a 
 
 circle of spectators gathered round, as heretofore 
 
 in Florence : a circle composed of the noblest 
 
 names in Europe. Lincoln was magnificent on 
 
 that memorable night. No wonder if he provoked 
 
 the admiration of royalty as well as the sarcasms 
 
 of Walpole and George Montagu, who were 
 
 looking on. He wore the slashed velvet doublet 
 
 of a Spanish caballero^ ruffles, plumes, and scarlet 
 
 ribands to match. If his costume was not as 
 
 striking as Walpole's, it was all ablaze with 
 
 gold lace and jewels. The large diamond in his 
 
 jabot was a birthday gift from Uncle Newcastle, 
 
 and cost eleven hundred guineas.
 
 Ihe Curtain Rises, i6g 
 
 Lady Sophia Fermor wore the dress and mantilla 
 of a Spanish donna. It was the most becoming 
 costmiie for her magnificent figure perhaps. But 
 there was a deeper reason for the selection. George 
 Montagu pointed out that these dresses must have 
 been chosen by arrangement between the lovers, 
 and that the similarity of costume was a device for 
 proclaiming the nature of their intimacy to the 
 world. Walpole was impressed by the remark ; he 
 felt at once that he was hopelessly eclipsed by this 
 dazzling caballero ; and the gorgeous Aurengzebe 
 crept into his chair that morning in an envious and 
 discomfited mood, perhaps the most melancholy 
 masker that quitted Norfolk House. 
 
 But though the season and its gaieties were then 
 at their height, there came a sudden change. 
 Shortly after the Norfolk masquerade Walpole 
 thus records the immediate desertion of the town : 
 
 " There is nothing left in town now, but a 
 dozen antediluvian dowagers, whose carcases 
 have miraculously resisted the wet, and who every 
 Saturday compose a very reverend catacomb at
 
 170 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 my Lady Strafford's. She does not take money 
 at the door for showing them ; but you pay twelve- 
 pence apiece under the denomination of card- 
 money. Wit and beauty, indeed, remain in the 
 persons of Lady Townshend and Lady Caroline 
 Fitzroy ; but such is the want of taste in this age, 
 that the former is very often forced to wrap up her 
 wit in plain English before it can be understood, 
 and the latter is almost as often obliged to have 
 recourse to the same artifices to make her charms 
 be taken notice of." 
 
 The cause of this desertion of the capital, and 
 termination of the riotous amusements of the season, 
 was that the king had grown insufferably tired of 
 his amusements, and effectually put an end to the re- 
 monstrance of his ministers by forthwith removing 
 himself and his Court to the Elysium of Hanover. 
 
 Lord Carteret, as minister in waitings had no 
 excuse for escaping attendance, and had to go with 
 him, as had Lady Carteret, who, however, made 
 every possible resistance to the expedition. 
 
 Lady Townshend said that the poor lady cried
 
 The Curtain Rises. 1 7 1 
 
 a basinful every morning at the idea of quitting 
 town in the meridian of her glory, and that 
 between the hysterics of his wife, and the black 
 looks of the king, my Lord had not a pleasant time 
 of it. However, the Court and Oarterets departed, 
 and the town emptied itself rapidly afterwards. 
 
 In the first flight to the country was Lady 
 Pomfret and her brood. She had bidden a long 
 array of guests to visit her at Easton Neston, and 
 this time her mind was bent on doing great things 
 down in Northamptonshire. It was to be open 
 house now. The shabbiness of her former visit was 
 to be atoned for by magnificence and profusion : and 
 this for a special object. Lord Lincoln, she reckoned, 
 had taken steps from which there was now no return. 
 He had especially committed himself at the Norfolk 
 House masquerade, and his tedious wooing must be 
 brought to a close at last. Non-intervention on a 
 mother s part might be sound doctrine up to a 
 certain point, but, as in other dogmas, you should 
 not ride a principle to death. Delicacy on the part 
 of a girl's family was all well enough in its way ;
 
 172- A Chronicle of the Fer mors. 
 
 but there miglit be occasions when a mother's 
 duty should make her bhmt — direct in lier action, 
 and decisive. What was the use of maternal super- 
 vision at all if a mother was not to act at a 
 critical juncture like this ? A general's office is to 
 combine and to command ; also to lead a charge, 
 and expose himself to the enemy's bullets in emer- 
 gency, and Lady Pomfret had never hesitated to go 
 under fire when occasion required it ; her fault was 
 rather in the direction of rashness, to carry things 
 high-handed by an assault or a coup-de-main. 
 
 But here Lord Lincoln had for the second time 
 amused himself by playing a variety of airs on 
 that very delicate and finely-toned instrument her 
 daughter's affections ; in public, too, before a critical 
 audience of spiteful and jealous connoisseurs. Was 
 this sort of concert to go on for ever ? Was there 
 to be no second part to the programme ? Must the 
 mother stand by with folded arms, until he had jilted 
 her beautiful child for the second time ? — now that 
 his attentions were matter of public comment, that 
 the king himself had referred to the subject, and
 
 The Citrtain Rises. 173 
 
 tlie whole Pelham family were awakening to the 
 danger. 
 
 Things had surely gone far enougli. If the 
 Countess had been indiscreetly energetic before, and 
 done mischief by premature action, that was no 
 argument for falling into the opposite fault now. 
 However, to be sure of her ground, and avoid the 
 possibility of an accident. Lady Pomfret took sound- 
 ings beforehand as it were ; she cast the lead into 
 the depths of Lord Lincoln's affections, and made 
 sure that she was in deep water first. She proceeded 
 by very delicate and minute approaches, until con- 
 vinced that it was safe to step forward. Like a 
 skilful practitioner, careful of the patient's nerves, 
 she fingered his pulse and soothed him by innocent 
 or flattering phrases to divert his mind from the 
 fear of a surgical operation. 
 
 She got him to lie back in that terrible dentist's 
 pillow, as it were, and slipped her treacherous arm 
 about his neck in an insidious embrace, but only 
 to obtain a better grip of the victim, and in the 
 other hand, behind her back, the familiar instrument
 
 174 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 with the cotton wadding was safely clutched — the 
 horrible forceps of matrimony — ready to plunge 
 into his throat. 
 
 She did plunge it in. She invited him down to 
 her country-seat — it was the same thing as if she 
 had asked him to marry her daughter — and he had 
 accepted the invitation. It was a way of commit- 
 ting him irretrievably. The world, the Pelhams, 
 the duke, would have to notice it if he came to 
 Easton Neston, and he was promised to come there. 
 
 Beyond that step there was nothing needed but 
 an opportunity of making a formal offer to her 
 daughter, and at Easton Neston opportunities 
 would abound. 
 
 It was a spacious mansion, of a rambling and 
 doubtful architectural character ; gables, turrets, 
 antient stone carvings, and modern plaster, all 
 jumbled up together. Inside there was a baronial 
 hall, wainscoted with oak, furnished with suits of 
 Flemish armour and Roundhead helmets, with bows, 
 spears, arquebuses, and the like, lyiug about on 
 every side — the Countess had sent them all down
 
 The Curtain Rises, 175 
 
 specially from town ; and through the house were 
 rambling galleries and corridors of the same florid 
 and versatile taste. There were state-rooms, newly 
 dressed in modern damasks and gilding for the more 
 important of the expected guests, and other state- 
 rooms which were only shaken up a little, and left 
 in their original garniture of stiff-backed chairs, 
 settees, and narrow mirrors of Venetian glass, which 
 gave back a grim and spectral reflection to the 
 gazer's eye. These were for the make-up of the 
 company, the insignificant crowd who in the 
 approaching entertainment had no special part to 
 perform. 
 
 Outside there were spacious gardens and shrub- 
 beries, with meandering walks, and quaint enclo- 
 sures of beech hedge clipped into fantastical shapes, 
 with grottoes and bowers and nooks already fit for 
 lovers to whisper and dally in. A line of elms and 
 beeches where the rooks cawed framed in the 
 shrubbery^ and also enclosed a bowling green, 
 where, in fair weather, Lord Lempster enjoyed his 
 daily pipes and ale.
 
 176 A Chronicle 0/ the Fer mors. 
 
 In front a broad sweep of undulating lawn de- 
 clined to the water-meadows bordering the river, the 
 antlers of deer peeping under the shadows of the 
 elms. The prospect was fine ; well wooded, pic- 
 turesque, English. By the house there were ranges 
 of terraces, one above the other, and in the 
 best taste of the time ; the Countess had herself 
 planned the structure, and spent a considerable 
 sum in carrying it out. These had carved balus- 
 trades of stone, heavy and ugly enough of them- 
 selves, yet harmonizing in a certain sense with 
 the sombre character of the general architecture. 
 Besides, these terraces had a special object to serve, 
 for disposed at intervals along their spaces, lining 
 the front and east side of the house, was the famous 
 collection of statues known as the " Arundel 
 marbles," the gem of Easton Neston, and great 
 feature of attraction in Northamptonshire. By a 
 bizarre fate these statues had fallen into the hands 
 of the mad John Lord Jefferies, Lady Pomfrefs 
 father, and through her had found their way to 
 the family seat.
 
 The Cnrtain Rises. 17^ 
 
 The Countess had giown up among these statues ; 
 she was fond of telling how they were connected 
 with every reminiscence of her childhood ; how her 
 own artistic tastes had been formed by their early 
 contemplation ; also of boasting of the price they 
 had originally cost, and of the still greater money 
 value which they represented at present. There 
 were some noseless goddesses and toeless gods among 
 this marble society, but as taste went, the collection 
 was all the more valuable for being something 
 fractured up and down ; it helped to convey the 
 impression and spirit of the true antique. Lady 
 Townshend wondered that the Countess did not 
 turn these statues into ancestors right off, as she 
 had done the portraits which lined the walls of the 
 picture gallery, and tapestried every available span 
 of wall-space there. Fermours, Fermores, and 
 Fermors, whatever they were — one never reached 
 the end of the series with their arms, crests, and 
 devices enamelled in brilliant colours or sculptured 
 on tablets of various English marbles. Walpole 
 said that the Countess had swindled the Jew 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A CJironiclc of the Fennors. 
 
 picture-dealer at the Hague, from whom she 
 originally purchased this set of ancestors, and that 
 their merit as works of art was exactly on a par 
 with their authenticity as portraits; but he was 
 always prejudiced and unkind. 
 
 Amongst them was a full-length effigy of our 
 sainted progenitor King Edward, from whom her 
 Ladyship had taken so much pains to descend. 
 The royal confessor had not much of a royal or 
 religious air, as he strutted with a finical self- 
 satisfied smirk, in a well-rounded silk stocking and 
 a Louis XIY. costume. 
 
 Beside him were the two queens from whom 
 my Earl and the Countess had respectively de- 
 scended, r Allegro and il Penseroso : the one a 
 flighty-looking little person in a brocade skirt, 
 the other a sour-visaged dame with a rosary at 
 her girdle. They did not belong to the same 
 school of art, and probably had not been purchased 
 at the same warehouse ; but opposite them, and 
 quite out of view, in a shady corner formed by the 
 conflicting cross lights of the vestibule, was a
 
 The Cii7'tain Rises. 1 79 
 
 remarkable picture ; first, because it was what it 
 professed to be, a genuine Holbein, and next^ an 
 authentic kitkat portrait of a real personage and 
 bona-fide ancestor, Thomas Fermour, merchant of 
 Calais, the real founder of the house — lean, yellow- 
 bearded, sober, grim of visage, with clear frontal 
 bones, thin determined lips, and an earnest grey 
 eye. 
 
 He it was who first acquired the estate of Easton, 
 and lost it afterwards by confiscation, temp. Henry 
 yni., for his adherence to the old faith^ and a 
 contumacious overt act of treason in giving aid to a 
 fugitive priest. Under Edward YL, however, his 
 manor was restored again, with a considerable por- 
 tion of the lands, and continued in possession of his 
 descendants. Lady Pomfret had small love for this 
 mean-looking Thomas Fermour, with a face like 
 a parish clerk, as she said, mocking at the 
 picture. She had originally sent him away from 
 the town-house to rusticate at Easton, and would 
 have banished him altogether to the lumber-room, 
 but for a sturdy prejudice which '' my Earl " 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o A Chronicle of tJie Fermors, 
 
 exhibited in his favour. Lord Pomfret rarely 
 crossed her in any arrangement, but when he did 
 interfere he was very obstinate. Her husband 
 was not aspiring enough, the Countess com- 
 plained ; he was deficient in ambition ; his spirit 
 wanted raising ; and as her only receipt for raising 
 his spirits was to keep constantly putting him 
 down, she managed fairly to prevent that he 
 should ever have his own way in anything. 
 
 And so everything is arranged and prepared 
 for the festivities at Easton Neston. The up- 
 holsterers and decorators have all departed, leaving 
 an odour of paste and varnish behind which still 
 overpowers the cut flowers in the reception rooms. 
 Hampers of bronzes and old china, and other objects 
 of art and interest, have been slyly brought down 
 from the drawing-room in town to assist in modern- 
 ising the Northamptonshire rooms. Amongst 
 these a few copies of the Froissart and Yandyck, 
 which accidentally find their way to boudoir tables. 
 If two or three guests wished to enjoy the recrea- 
 tion of reading these works at the same time.
 
 The Curtain Rises. 1 8 1 
 
 there are copies enoiigli to hand for all of them. 
 Outside, the gardens are trimmed to the highest 
 point of neatness, everything is proper to receive 
 the guests, who presently begin to arrive. Files 
 of carriages, ladies of ton, fine gentlemen, attended 
 by suites of menials as fine and difficult to please 
 as their betters — a garrison of fashion — takes 
 possession of the place. The village ophicleide 
 and clarionet in connection with the charity 
 schools, supplemented by the shoemaker's fiddle, 
 had been chartered to play up a triumphal 
 march on the day when Lord Lincohi drove 
 through the street; the band was afterwards 
 mobbed on account of the unpopularity which 
 the family had acquired by way of the local 
 land question. Besides, the village doctor had 
 arranged a triumphal arch across the street 
 with an appropriate motto, and Poins, the 
 forester, organised a bonfire on the lawn, which 
 would have probably been very successful only 
 for the torrents of rain which fell and quenched 
 it.
 
 1 82 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 So the old bouse was filling in ; drones and 
 locusts crowded the servants' hall ; it was one scene 
 of waste and profusion everywhere. With all her 
 thrift, Lady Pomfret was indifferent to expense 
 when it came in the way of business, and was 
 a means to an end. Though trifles might have 
 displeased her, it did not signify ; if she grumbled 
 at all, it was in private. It might for instance 
 have been difficult for her to Tmderstand why 
 persons like George Montagu, who had no im- 
 portant part to play, and were merely invited 
 to give an air of .nature to the serious pro- 
 ceedings, should choose to travel with almost 
 as strong a retinue of horses and servants as the 
 Hamlet of the play, my Lord Lincoln himself, and 
 with a larger one than even Mr. Pitt of War- 
 render, who stood in the second place to Hamlet, 
 and ranked as the reputed admirer of Lady 
 Charlotte. There was, so far, an inequality in the 
 cast of the company ; a disproportion on the part 
 of the comparatively insignificant Montagu. Mr. 
 Pitt would do well for Lady Charlotte, as well as
 
 The Curtain Rises. 1 83 
 
 Lord Lincoln for Lady Sophia. Lady Charlotte, a 
 lesser beauty, was not of the same commercial 
 value as her elder sister, and the Countess, never 
 unreasonable in business matters or unpractical 
 in her anticipations, looked for no more than a fair 
 trader's bargain for her wares in the open market. 
 
 Moreover, George Montagu had brought his 
 sister Harriet, and Mr. Winnington made one of 
 the party in their chaise. These friends were 
 not quite expected, and as others followed from 
 whom apologies had also been reckoned on, it 
 followed that the old Hall was soon crowded 
 to the roof-tree. However, people were then 
 more easily pleased on the score of accom- 
 modation than in our day ; the Countess took 
 no extraordinary pains in housing any but the 
 leading personages, and these were billeted strictly 
 in accordance with the place which they held in 
 her good opinion. 
 
 For instance, my Lord Lincoln had scented 
 flower-pots in the bay window of his dressing-room, 
 the silken hangings of his bedchamber gave out
 
 1 84 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 an odour of cedar-wood, the carpet of bis dress- 
 ing room was soft as mown grass, and the walls 
 twinkled in freshest white and gold. From 
 the windows was a vast landscape up the vale, 
 winding water and sloping woods ; an ivy-mantled 
 tower marking the middle distance, blue hills 
 beyond — all the best features of the park. Mr. 
 Pitt of Warrender was as well placed on the east 
 side as Lincoln on the west ; and so on, from lords 
 and ladies downward, or rather upward, to Mr. 
 Winnington, who was housed near the slates. Mr. 
 Winnington, though a man of fashion, was noto- 
 riously not a marrying man, and the Countess 
 observed confidentially to the housekeeper that if 
 such people did not like their quarters, they might 
 change them at the shortest notice. 
 
 And so everything is in its place and ready for 
 the comedy to be performed in the old manor- 
 house by Towcester. The orchestra finishes the 
 overture, the bell rings, the curtain is presently to 
 rise, when the pantomime will proceed. Yalere and 
 Columbine mav dance an entree before the foot-
 
 The Curtain Rises. 185 
 
 lights; clown and pantaloon perhaps tumble, by 
 way to distract the attention of the audience ; while 
 safe in the prompter's box my lady mother sits 
 deftly working the wires. Slie was at this time 
 indefatigable, and in person superintended every 
 detail of the management. My Earl was com- 
 manded to abstain from turnips and subsoiling in 
 his conversation, and Lempster from meridian 
 potations. Her business eye never closes. The 
 music or party of commerce in the drawing-room 
 sometimes prolongs itself until morning, but my 
 Lady never quits her post. The weather is fair 
 and propitious, and every chance and opportunity 
 is to be availed of by her. A resplendent edition 
 of the Froissart lies open on the table in the 
 state drawing-room, gala finery is uncloseted, 
 and from Paris a fresh trunk of fashions has 
 just arrived. 
 
 There is no time for repose ; sleep rarely comes 
 to her speculating pillow : she may not pause "• to 
 knit up the ravelled sleave of care." Often she 
 watched the midnight stars, tortured with pains of
 
 i86 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 hope and speculation, as Macbeth might have done 
 while the royal Duncan slept overhead. Two 
 stupendous matches reposed in false security 
 beneath her roof-tree, and it needed but courage — 
 a skilful stroke perhaps — to despatch their un- 
 protected bachelorhoods. How she coveted this 
 spoil ! Oft in the stilly night did my Lady 
 Macbeth clutch at the mystic daggers, and hunger 
 to commit this tempting double murder.
 
 ( 1^7 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 EASTON NESTON. 
 
 ALTHOuaH the habits of the period were early, 
 people rose late at Easton Neston. The breakfast 
 hour was sometimes far advanced into the fore- 
 noon_, as the arrangements of the household per- 
 mitted absolute freedom in this respect. Visitors 
 therefore did as they pleased, and those who were 
 not of sufficient importance to be selected as objects 
 of particular favour by the hostess, or had not to 
 undergo the annoyance of her personal attentions^ 
 found the house a pleasant one. 
 
 It was a sunny breakfast-room on the south side. 
 Through the deep mullioned windows came 
 glimpses of the park, the river streaking through 
 the trees, the lawn speckled with deer. The walls 
 had been painted in panels by a wandering Italian
 
 1 88 A Chronicle of tJie Fennoi^s. 
 
 artist, who brought a letter from Count Ugoccioni 
 to Lady Pornfret. The Italian was starving, and 
 the Countess made an excellent bargain with him 
 to decorate her rooms at a trifle beyond the price 
 of his keep and the cost of tlie colours. So 
 the Northamptonshire sunbeams played on walls 
 gay with mingled roses, doves^ and Cupids — 
 compositions copied from the walls of villas at 
 Tivoli. The board was spread with silver plate ; 
 flagons and epergnes, glistening amid the break- 
 fast equipage^ mingled prettily with monstrously 
 ugly vases of china and alabaster stuffed with 
 flowers ; the chairs and sofas bright in silk and 
 brocade upholstery, were strewn with scarfs, 
 mantles, lace falls. The rays refracted from the 
 doves and Cupids played on these feminine acces- 
 sories, which the ladies had cast aside on descending 
 from their chambers, and on the hats and swords 
 of the gentlemen scattered about in graceful dis- 
 order. The ladies were dressed in morning negli- 
 gees and fresh demi'toilettes, which cost as much 
 pains and care as if they had been for some famous
 
 E as Ion Neston. i (S 
 
 ic>9 
 
 parade day at St. James's, and not a quiet scene of 
 quasi rural life. Mr. Winnington sneered at the 
 elaborate carelessness of these costumes, he was 
 himself the greatest fop of any, for all his dumpy 
 figure. Some of the gentlemen were frizzled up 
 and padded to as high a point of finish and mil- 
 linery as the ladies ; so that for all the late break- 
 fasts the menial population was astir at an early 
 hour. The valets and waiting-women had no 
 sinecure of it, and we may be sure that Lord 
 Lincoln's foreign gentleman, Alphonse, had no 
 idle time to spare. Lincoln had a weakness for 
 fine feathers, and came down into Northampton- 
 shire with as well-assorted a wardrobe as if he had 
 been going to wait at Court, instead of coming to 
 a country-house to wait on a lady who was very 
 graciously waiting for his proposal, and who, 
 coeteris paribus, would probaby have accepted 
 him in a mulberry suit, a plain sword, and not a 
 dust of powder in his hair. If the necessities of 
 the case only were to be provided for. Monsieur 
 Alphonse might have rested with his hands
 
 J90 A Chronicle of the Fcrmo7^s. 
 
 idle, and left his curling irons in town behind 
 him. 
 
 Opening the letter-bag at one of these late 
 breakfasts, Lord Pomfret startled the company by 
 a sudden exclamation of surprise. " Sad, sad news 
 from Hanover !" he cried out. " Who would 
 have expected it ? So imforeseen ! At Hanover, 
 too — among strangers, away from all assistance." 
 
 '-' His Majesty — an accident to His Majesty ?" 
 exclaimed several voices. 
 
 " Not so bad, heaven be praised ; not so bad as 
 that," answered Lord Pomfret in a frightened voice, 
 looking at his wife. " His Majesty continues to 
 enjoy excellent health, and to enjoy himself, I trust, 
 at Herrenhausen ; but poor Lady Carteret ! she has 
 died, quite suddenly it would appear with scarcely 
 an interval of illness, poor lady ! And stay ! a 
 tissue of calamities. Lord Wilmington is also dead. 
 Poor old man ! in his ease death was to be expected, 
 and may be regarded as a relief; but poor Lady 
 Carteret !" 
 
 " It was an unlucky hour for her when my Lord
 
 East on Nest on. 
 
 191 
 
 caine into office," said Lady Pomfret, after a be- 
 coming exclamation of grief and a proper pause, in 
 deference to the general sympathy. " She would 
 be alive now but for her ambition. Since the 
 elevation of my Lord, she has been always on the 
 strain, in a perpetual worry and fever. I am very 
 sorry for her. At Hanover^ too. Poor lady ! and she 
 was so reluctant to go there at all. Fancy having 
 to die at such a place, so much out of the world, 
 and surrounded^ too, by Grermans ! I should not 
 like to die there." 
 
 " But imagine having to live in such a place, 
 madam," said Mr. Winnington. 
 
 '' It only shows how little reliance we should place 
 on anything in this world," said Lady Pomfret, 
 grimacing morally with her eyes in her teacup. 
 " What, after all, are its vanities, its pleasures, 
 ambitions ? Here to-day, and to-morrow we are not. 
 Creatures of an hour, like the grass and the lilies of 
 the field ! — Sophy ! that is my Lord Lincoln's tea- 
 cup. — Passing by like shadows on the grass ; and 
 when passed, forgotten. Poor Lady Carteret ! I am
 
 192 A Chronicle of the Fermoj^s. 
 
 truly very sorry for her ! But she carried her liead 
 so high, so very high, that I always thought it 
 could not last. People cannot have it all their 
 own way in this world. With her husband first 
 minister^ and her daughters making such splendid 
 matches, I knew that it was too much — that such 
 prosperity could not endure Indeed, it always 
 seemed to me that she quite lost her senses from 
 the moment Lord Carteret became Premier." 
 
 ** It was very strange that Carteret, with his 
 personal unpopularity and uncivil manners, should 
 have succeeded to power," said G-eoige Montagu; 
 " surrounded, too, by enemies as he is." 
 
 " But stranger still that he should have married 
 his wife ; and, of all other things odd, that she 
 should have married him," answered Winnington. 
 
 " No ! the really strangest thing was that poor 
 Lady Carteret should come to die before the old 
 dragoness her mother-in-law," smartly rejoined Lady 
 Pomfret. " She was the bane of her life. The dear 
 departed creature was never at any time mistress in 
 her own house, no more than the housemaid was/'
 
 Easton Nest on. 
 
 193 
 
 ''' Lady Carteret always wore mighty pretty 
 clothes, however," said Miss Montagu, '* and was 
 very charitable and good-natured." 
 
 " Yes, she certainly dressed fine," replied the 
 Countess. " I remember at the first drawing-room 
 after the Coronation she wore green and gold, and 
 such prodigiously handsome clothes that the queen 
 herself commended them. Lady Carteret was 
 always inclined for extravagance, if the mother-in- 
 law would have suffered it ; but the old beldame 
 would not, and the daughter-in-law had to give 
 way. Poor woman ! she had her share of trouble 
 in this world, and her own share of enjoyment also. 
 She was at one time, if not handsome, undoubtedly 
 fresh and comely, and had exceedingly winning 
 manners, with a fair neck and shoulders." 
 
 '' La Heine est morte, Yive la Reine !" ex- 
 claimed Winnington. "Carteret, though past his 
 teens, is a promising youth, and still susceptible 
 to the spark of love. There is now a first minister's 
 ladyship, as surely as a first lordship of the 
 Treasury, to let, and here comes my breakfast. 
 
 VOL. 1. o
 
 1 94 A Chronicle of the Fennors. 
 
 Ah ? Ah, lampreys stewed in lobster ! the dish 
 which I adore," cried out the little man, tucking a 
 napkin under his double chin and over his point 
 de Yenise, as a frizzling dish was placed on the 
 table. '* A first lordship and a first ladyship. I 
 wonder which will be filled in first," he repeated, 
 plunging his ruffles into the tempting stew. 
 " Capital ! a breakfast for an abbot. I'll back the 
 ladyship, if Carteret takes it into his head : he was 
 always a man of action. No wonder if you are all 
 excited at such a prospect of promotion," he added, 
 in reply to the feminine exclamations which 
 greeted this assertion. " Perhaps there is some 
 one actually in this room to whom the news of 
 this morning may bring high promotion, I wish 
 her joy of it." 
 
 A beautiful horror shot at him across the table 
 from the eyes of Lady Sophia Fermor. 
 
 "It's all very well to say no, but wait till some- 
 body is asked/' continued Winnington, his mouth 
 full of eel-pie, " I wish somebody would tell me 
 that the greatest lady in the land was going to
 
 E as ton Neston, 195 
 
 take a fancy to me, and raise me to the first rank 
 in England. I don't think I would scorn the 
 prophet.*' 
 
 "The greatest lady in the land is Lady Granville, 
 my Lord's mother. You would be a well-assorted 
 pair," said George Montagu, **and I hope it may 
 happen, for your sake." 
 
 " I'll lay you on the lordship first as against the 
 ladyship, Winnington," said Lord Lempster, roused 
 into attention by the prospect of a wager. 
 
 " Poor Lady Carteret was certainly raised to a 
 very high position," continued his mother, primly 
 resuming tlie thread of her monologue. " But the 
 sad death of her daughter, Lady Weymouth, was 
 her first warning, and a severe blow. I should my- 
 self feel greater sorrow at the loss of one of my 
 children than the greatest elevation in life could 
 bring me of joy. Indeed, I have had experience 
 enough that a high position does not always satisfy 
 the heart. I was sufficiently intimate with her late 
 lamented Majesty to be aware of what the happi- 
 ness of eminence comes to mean, but every one has 
 
 o 2
 
 196 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 not equal strength of mind, and many are seduced 
 by the gHtter of the thing. It was ever my 
 opinion that success had turned the heads of 
 all the family of Carterets. The poor lady was 
 not a little vain at forming part of the Court 
 in Hanover, naturally being new to Court life, and 
 not wearied by its intolerable restraints, as I have 
 been half my lifetime. But with more experience 
 she would have understood that the royal coterie at 
 Hanover does not deserve the name of a Court. 
 Court, indeed ! Fancy such a thing possible without 
 a queen ! But then, poor good soul, she had little 
 experience of public life, and was certainly a faith- 
 ful and loving wife. Perhaps Lord Carteret 
 may think of marrying again ; his mother, I 
 suspect, would encourage it, and he has a very 
 considerable fortune." 
 
 " A grandfather ! What girl would have any- 
 thing to say to him ?" exclaimed Lady Sophia 
 Fermor, with a scornful glance. 
 
 *'The lady who refused him would be likely to 
 repent her imprudence," said George Montagu ;
 
 Easton Nest on. 197 
 
 " and if a relative of mine, I should feel justified 
 in turning her out of doors . How can you call 
 a man aged whose mother is still alive, in the 
 freshness and vigour of intellect ?" 
 
 " I forgot the mother," added Lady Sophia with 
 a laugh ; " that is a further recommendation." 
 
 *' And who has ever evinced such fondness for 
 the sex as Carteret ?" put in Mr. Winnington, 
 interrupting his meal. 
 
 " Lord Carteret's is undoubtedly a very brilliant 
 position," continued Lady Pomfret, dogmatically. 
 "There is but one first minister in England, my 
 love, and I agree with Mr. Montagu in thinking 
 there is more than one woman who would agree 
 to share that dignity. Think of Lord Carteret's 
 actual wealth, and the greater fortune still his 
 mother must bequeath him. I am told the estate 
 his father acquired in America is as large as half 
 England, and in a man of such shining parts the 
 mind, after all, is everything. I have known very 
 good judges affirm that my Lord is quite as great 
 an orator as Cicero."
 
 198 A CJu'omcle of the Fermors. 
 
 " But Cicero's wife had not such a mother-in- 
 law, madam/' said Winnington. 
 
 " I should like to see the girl that would refuse 
 him," repeated the Countess, reflectively. 
 
 " Then you may see her, mamma !" said Lady 
 Sophia. " No man alive, minister, king, or emperor, 
 should have my hand without winning my "affec- 
 tions." 
 
 " That to its proper address," whispered Win- 
 nington to Miss Montagu; "and Lincoln accepts 
 the pretty sentiment with his eyes — delicious 
 innocence !" 
 
 The Countess laughed. " Now if Lord Carteret 
 were to march into the room this moment, and 
 ask for one of my daughters, that observation 
 would spoil your chance," she said playfully. 
 '-' I should say to my Lord Carteret, * Have no- 
 thing to do with Sophy, my Lord ; she is too 
 hot, too impulsive ; her feelings get the better of 
 her judgment sometimes, and hurry her to most 
 extravagant conclusions : she resembles myself in 
 that particular; so little able to calculate results
 
 East 011 Neston. 199 
 
 when her heart and sympathies are enlisted.' " — 
 Winnington looked at Miss Montagu. " Not that 
 I would think of refusing Lord Carteret for a son- 
 in-law/' continued the Countess gaily ; ^^ I am too 
 much woman of the world for that. No, I should 
 say to him honestly, ' My Lord, I will recommend 
 you a wife ; I will assist you with a mother's 
 knowledge and experience ;' and then I should 
 honestly recommend him Charlotte. ' They are 
 both good children, my Lord,' I should say ; ' but 
 Charlotte is the very girl for you ; she is so 
 clever, she will fall in with your cultivated tastes 
 exactly, and speaks Spanish and Italian quite as 
 well as yourself.' " 
 
 " A maternal inheritance, that gift of tongues," 
 whispered Winnington. "Do the ladies inherit 
 all the qualities of the mother ?" 
 
 " Which would you choose to be — Lord Carteret, 
 or the young earl opposite, after that ?" asked Miss 
 Montagu, in the same under-tone. 
 
 " I wager the Countess never wins on Lincoln 
 after all," answered Winnington. " If I know the
 
 200 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Clinton pedigree and the Pelham blood, she will 
 miss him/' 
 
 " Hush ! we shall be overheard. I should like 
 to be a famous beauty with a prodigious fortune 
 just for one season at least/' said Miss Montagu 
 aloud. ^' If for nothing but to bring some of these 
 superb people to their senses." 
 
 " They would be all out of their senses about 
 you then ; it would have the very contrary effect," 
 said Winnington. 
 
 " However, Lady Carteret, without pretensions 
 either to beauty or fortune, succeeded in catching 
 the greatest prize of all," answered the lady. " I 
 shall have all details concerning the poor lady's 
 demise in a letter from Eliza Montagu this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "" Mrs. Montagu writes such beautiful letters," 
 said Lady Pomfret ; " they must be greatly valued 
 by her fortunate correspondents." 
 
 " Attention, a lecture coming," whispered Win- 
 nington. 
 
 " And they are so," replied Miss Montagu.
 
 East 011 Nest on, 201 
 
 "The Duchess of Portland has them all neatly 
 pasted into an album." 
 
 " A better plan," said Lady Pomfret with an air 
 of proper authority, becoming to so literary a sub- 
 ject — '' a far better plan is to have the letters copied 
 in manuscript into a copybook. That is my way. 
 The letters of all the correspondents whom I 
 value are so treated. Charlotte and Henrietta 
 undertake this labour ; and to improve their minds, 
 I make them write all the proper names in red 
 ink : that is an idea of my own." 
 
 '* And a famous one, madam. I shall borrow 
 it from you for my own use," said Winnington. 
 ^' The proper names in red ink." 
 
 " It was the way I formed my own epistolary 
 style by copying in my youth Mary Montagu's 
 letters," said the Countess in a modest voice. " I 
 assure you some of my friends write very 
 elegantly. I have had a letter from Lady Bel 
 Finch eight pages long on the difference be- 
 tween friendship and love, and so beautifully 
 woi'ded."
 
 202 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 " Did Lady Bel say anything about her own in- 
 difference to either, madam ?" asked Winnington. 
 
 " It is so good for young people to be employed, 
 that I consider the excessive labour one of the 
 advantages of my copying plan," continued the 
 Countess dogmatically. " That is why I persist in 
 the practice : it gives employment, imparts know- 
 ledge, forms the style, and exercises the hand all 
 at the same time. My children have already 
 acquired a general facility with the pen on account 
 of the exercise. Ah, have you all finished break- 
 fast together ?" The lecture of the Countess was 
 brought prematurely to a close by the visible 
 inattention of the audience. 
 
 People began to rise and whisper, and the 
 gentlemen next the door passed swiftly through it 
 into the lobby. Miss Montagu suppressed a little 
 yawn. Mr. Winnington pushed away his plate. 
 The Countess perceived her weakness ; she had 
 ridden that cherished hobby indiscreetly far — so 
 far that the patience of her audience was out of 
 breath and could not follow; but she recovered
 
 Eastoii Neston. 203 
 
 her position readily, and gracefully changing to a 
 lighter subject, rose from the table with the rest 
 of her guests. They were all shuffling through the 
 room now, looking out for hats and scarfs. My 
 Earl backed into his arm-chair, with the letter- 
 bag stuffed under it. They would be all gone 
 in a few moments this fine company, and he, 
 poor man, could open his packages at his leisure, 
 and soak over the fresh delights of the 'News 
 Letter ' alone, and have Gregory bring him a mug 
 of surreptitious ale, a refreshment for which he 
 greatly thirsted. So the company began to pass 
 slowly from the room, laughing and talking ; the 
 direct sunbeams of the portico striking the 
 rich dresses as the crowd dispersed in the hall, 
 breaking up into parties bound to the library, 
 the drawing-rooms, boudoirs, flower-garden and 
 shrubberies. 
 
 How oddly the right people got together^ for all 
 the shuffling and confusion, and managed also to 
 discover the locality most suitable for their tastes or 
 employment. In a short time afterwards, Mr. Pitt
 
 204 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 of Warrender found himself entangled in a meander- 
 ing shrubbery walk with Lady Charlotte Fermor, 
 and an occasional burst of laughter tracked the 
 course of Mr. Winnington and Miss Montagu 
 along the quaint corridor leading to the library. 
 
 Lord Lempster was among the laggards in the 
 breakfast-room ; he yawned and shook himself. 
 It was going to be a dreary and a miserable time 
 for him, this continued good-behaviour, enforced 
 and unnatural as it was — this mawkish company 
 that filled the house. He had put on a gorgeous 
 coat, and tried to mince his words, and keep down 
 his lisp, and say smart things to the women like 
 Winnington for three days running ; he had let 
 the bottle pass at dinner and supper time, and 
 underwent other unaccustomed acts of carnal mor- 
 tification ; but now his soul was weary of it. The 
 velvet suit was tight, and strangled his fat limbs. 
 The old Adam stirred under his flowery waistcoat 
 glittering with foil ; a hunger for forbidden flesh- 
 pots gnawed him. Here was another fair, hot day. 
 Was he to pass it again sauntering about walks and
 
 Easton Neston, 205 
 
 shrubberies, gaping at those gawky statues, listen- 
 ing to talk of primroses and poesies, and kindred 
 gibberish, straining all the while in his polite 
 manners as uncomfortably as in his tight clothes ? 
 *' Oh, for cakes and ale in a shady bower ! any 
 pleasant pastime — a dice-box, a pipe, a main of 
 cocks, or a badger to draw !" 
 
 He tapped George Montagu on the shoulder, 
 and whispered — 
 
 ^' In the bowling green yonder ?" repeated 
 Montagu, half turning in reply ; " what is to be 
 done there ?" 
 
 *' They will take you off fishing or boating on 
 the river mind with the women, if you don't save 
 yourself in time," answered Lempster. ^' My 
 mother has arranged some project of that kind. 
 I give you notice. We can have a pipe in the 
 bowling green first ; then join the others, if you 
 will ; but I lay even you don't, and five to three 
 you repent it if you do." 
 
 Montagu turned lazily, and looked at the sun. 
 It was going to be very hot ; the light played on
 
 2o6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 the flat reach of water above the weir ; through 
 the trees he could see the boats there, with figures 
 in them. He had been bored yesterday, and in 
 the light of this hot forenoon a water party with 
 the ladies looked an unpromising picture. Then 
 Lempster, making another sign, slipped from the 
 room and Montagu followed lazily. 
 
 Going round by the stables they fell in with old 
 Sir Charles Brandon, a county native, and young 
 Squire Thornton, another, who were asking Sykes 
 the keeper about the fishing, and took them on : 
 two more stragglers from the breakfast-room also 
 appeared. So Lempster's coup succeeded. He 
 had a congenial party assembled to drink with ; 
 'twas better than moping and dangling, and 
 yawning one's heart out with the women-kind. 
 
 They reached the bowling green. Lord Lempster 
 in high good-humour. One sees him now standing 
 apart on the shaven lawn with a pensive air, his 
 face turned from the sun, which strikes the feather 
 of his hat, and comes pouring down over the 
 rich creases of- his velvet back — a round knock-
 
 E as ton Neston. 207 
 
 kneed figure ; the sun easts a long narrow 
 shadow across the sward ; the birds are twitter- 
 ing in the branches overhead ; the daisies j)eep 
 under the sprawling rosettes of his clumsy 
 shoes; behind, Montagu and the others are 
 grouped in the shade of the arbour. Montagu 
 with a hesitating weariness in his face, dangling 
 his cane as if uncertain whether to remain with 
 these clumsy squires or take his chance of being 
 bored in another way elsewhere ; and young 
 Thornton, as eager for a booze or a game as 
 Lempster himself, eyeing Hawks the valet, who 
 is arranging the jugs and flagons. 
 
 Presently Lempster turns round, and approaches 
 the arbour humming a tune ; he has hatched a 
 project for passing the day_, and is in a pleasant 
 temper with himself and all the world. 
 
 " I'll 5'lay any man fift/iy guineas thatA I 
 break a bottle on that bowling postA with a 
 pistAol bullet from where I sitA," he said in a 
 while, after they were seated at their refreshment. 
 He had a natural lisp, which came out very strong
 
 2o8 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 in familiar conversation when not making efforts to 
 be fine in his speech. We need not reproduce his 
 pecuhar accent here, the reader will understand 
 that he had a natural thickness of tongue. " That 
 I do it six times out of nine, and that no man here 
 does it four shots out of nine, for another fifty or a 
 hundred," he added briskly. " Hawks, fetch my 
 pistol-case for a try. My pistols, booby, do you 
 hear? Drop that tankard, and be quick about 
 it," he repeated impatiently, scowling at the man. 
 
 " Pistols ! and have all the women down about 
 our ears at once ?" said Sir Charles Brandon. 
 
 " Then we must send for Thornton's brindled 
 bitch, that is it," said Lord Lempster ; " and I'll 
 lay my blue mastiff Tommy against her, though a 
 pound under weight, for a fifty, if you like." 
 
 " The bitch has broke her lower fang^ as you are 
 aware, my Lord," said Sir Charles ; '' Tm a plain 
 squire, but you can't take me in with your New- 
 market tricks." 
 
 " That is a d pretty thing to say to a man 
 
 in his own house, Brandon," replied LemjDster;
 
 East 071 Neston. 209 
 
 "the bitch was never in better order; and I'm 
 going to get a picture-drawer to make her 
 portrait. Come, I'll take her, and give you the 
 dog for the same money. That's fair, anyhow ; 
 who says done ?" 
 
 " Done. No — stay ! I'll put no money on any 
 match here to-day," added Sir Charles cautiously ; 
 " any game you like, but I'm not in for a match 
 to-day." 
 
 " What ! make a match, and then draw stakes ; 
 that's doing nothing. Play or pay, all the world 
 over — a sporting man like you to draw stakes like 
 a cocktail !" 
 
 " But what are we to do with ourselves without 
 a match ?" inquired Thornton. " You decide for us, 
 Montagu. Try a pipe, and think of something, 
 smoking helps one's invention." 
 
 '* I don't smoke; tobacco upsets me." 
 
 '^ Rubbish ! there is nothing like tobacco," blurted 
 out Lempster ; " nothing so good for man or beast. 
 I give it to my horses sometimes. Half an ounce 
 at a time given to a horse among his corn, and 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 continued for a week, will prevent worms, cure 
 greasy heels, and create a fine coat." 
 
 " You must consume much tobacco yourself 
 then," answered Montagu ; " your coat is so fine." 
 
 " So it is. A plague on your Frencli tailoring ! 
 I am pinioned at every joint in it, like a knave at 
 the gallows," cried out Lempster. " We must get 
 off to my rooms ; and I shall get off this plaguy 
 coat, and, hot as it is, we will manage to get 
 over the forenoon somehow," he added, at the 
 same time making a motion with his hand, or 
 rather with his elbow, which was* generally 
 understood. 
 
 " Upstairs in the house itself ?" inquired 
 Montagu, as Brandon and Thornton exchanged 
 nods of approval. 
 
 " Why not ? They will be all in the garden 
 presently, and we can slip back unobserved ; we 
 shall be comfortable there. My mother will not 
 catch us — and — and," he added, chuckling at the 
 joke, '' none of us are likely to be missed from the 
 water-party with the women ; our kind are not
 
 E as to 71 Nest on, 2 1 1 
 
 much wanted down there, with their jDoetry and 
 gihherish." 
 
 " Suppose you send for Lincoln to join us also ; 
 he is not likely to be missed or wanted either," 
 said Montagu, with a grimace. 
 
 " 0, Lincoln ! not he ; what would my mother say 
 then ?" Lord Lempster blushed and laughed ; but 
 he was prudent, and caught himself up readily. 
 " We will manage to do without Lincoln this 
 time," he mumbled, dipping his nose in a flagon. 
 
 So it was that temptation sidled in among those 
 guileless spirits. Whenever the tempter first 
 enters a forbidden inclosure, be it into the garden 
 of Eden, a bower, a sanctuary^ or a bowling 
 green, it is always the same, he invariably ap- 
 proaches in a sly quizzing way with an oblique 
 movement, which disarms suspicion and secures 
 him easy welcome and snug quarters. Lempster 
 had a settled purpose in his drowsy eyes for all his 
 careless manner, he did not heed what they did, or 
 where they went, or how they spent the day ; he 
 said it was all the same to him, he was at every- 
 
 p 2
 
 212 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 body's service, but by continuing to introduce his 
 project and press the point lie carried it in the end, 
 and sometime afterwards the scene shifts from tlie 
 sward of the bowhng green to a green plane of 
 a far more dangerous character. 
 
 Figures might be seen slipping cautiously along 
 the north-east gallery which led to Lord Lempster's 
 private apartments. The windows were all open 
 for air, the different chambers untenanted, the 
 gallery noiseless, everybody was abroad. Lempster 
 was right in calculating on a retreat to his rooms 
 without attracting observation, but he was wrong- 
 in supposing that the nature of the pastime there 
 would remain long undiscovered. The open 
 windows first betiayed it, although the door was 
 securely fastened on the inside — one can never be 
 sufficiently cautious in such a case — but through 
 the open windows a peculiar clinking sound pene- 
 trated the motionless leaves of the overhanging 
 chestnuts, and pierced the solitudes of the shrub- 
 bery ; Lady Charlotte started as it reached her 
 there, and her companion, Mr. Pitt, not only de-
 
 East on Nest on. 1 1 3 
 
 tected the nature of the sound, but also recognised 
 Lempster's unpleasant lisp high in the slang of the 
 game ; this man might possibly be his future 
 brother-in-law — who knows ! The indulgence of 
 that summer morning's main may have cost Lady 
 Charlotte much sentimental distress, as well as an 
 excellent settlement in life, for Mr. Pitt was long- 
 headed enough, and though young, prudent as a 
 bishop. However, he discreetly moved away from 
 that side of the garden, and under the plea of 
 heat^ the pair returned to the house at a loitering 
 pace. As they entered the library, it was a 
 universal clamour against the common enemy the 
 sun. 
 
 Lady Sophia was faint. Miss Montagu per- 
 versely patient, Lord Lincoln impatient. Every- 
 body lazy, and in the darkest nook behind the 
 window Mr. Winnington, with a cambric napkin 
 binding his temples, affected to have a headache. 
 
 Lady Henrietta had just received from town a 
 package of yellow feathers for her pole screen ; 
 but her fingers became so warm that the feathers
 
 214 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 stuck to them, and her arms so heavy that she 
 could not move. How stiff the rigid high-backed 
 chairs had become ; the square griddle pattern 
 sofas, although in the height of fashion, were a 
 mockery of comfort. Lady Henrietta was already 
 fainting when for climax, a ball of silver foil 
 escaped from her work-table and ran away of itself 
 over the polished floor, leaving a track of light 
 behind as it unwound; a little sigh from Lady 
 Henrietta at this catastrophe ; Mr. Winnington 
 from his couch made a languid feint at picking up 
 the ball, his short arm missed it, then Mr. Pitt 
 moved, but Lady Henrietta, putting up her hands, 
 cried out that he must not come near, he looked so 
 hot, and with another sigh she closed her work- 
 table, leaving the spool on the floor where it lay. 
 
 " We have just come in from the garden, 'tis 
 even more intolerable there," said Lady Charlotte, 
 finding a seat. 
 
 " There is not shadow for a linnet in our 
 garden," saia Lady Sophia crossly, ^' even in mode- 
 rate weather that glaring garden with its white
 
 East on Nest on, 215 
 
 pebble walks and gaudy parterres renders one 
 dizzy. The thought of it assists the heat; at 
 present T feel how the sun is shining down on the 
 statues there, making the coldest river nymphs 
 hot to the touch, and Cicero's head shine like a 
 reflector." 
 
 '' It is only my Lord Carteret's head which is 
 the shining reflector of Cicero's," murmured Win- 
 nington from his corner. 
 
 " I am sick of my Lord Carteret and his head," 
 said Lady Sophia. 
 
 * So was his wife, poor lady," said Winnington, 
 " he finished her ofi" with his head. He would 
 keep her up all night reading the Latin grammar, 
 until the poor soul turned crazy in the end at it, 
 and not being born to craziness both by father and 
 mother like my lord, died at last. Then he was 
 such a talker." 
 
 " Lord Carteret an incessant talker, in the 
 House, you mean ?" 
 
 " In the House, out of the House, everywhere ; 
 he was as long-winded as a camel ; he killed the
 
 2 1 6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 poor lady with his tongue ; there should have 
 been an inquest on it," added Winnington. 
 
 " Fancy a man talking down his wife, I don't 
 believe it possible," said Mr. Pitt languidly. 
 
 Here Lord Lincoln crossed the room and took 
 the seat beside Lady Sophia ; that place had been 
 vacant for some time, but nobody had ventured 
 to fill it. It was a throne that his Majesty only 
 was privileged to sit upon. 
 
 " If we could face the worst of the sun for a 
 few minutes," he said. " If once at the foot of 
 the lawn by the river-side, we should find it 
 cooler. A breeze is on the river, a deliciously 
 green view, and besides the summer-house is there 
 for a refuge. I propose making the attempt, it 
 would be a pleasant change," he added, addressing 
 Lady Sophia directly. 
 
 " Al fresco," she murmured. 
 
 *' Aye. Al fresco," he repeated in a whisper, 
 *^ like those other days in Florence long ago. Ah ! 
 Those were pleasant days, the happiest of my life. 
 Alas !"
 
 Easton Neston. 217 
 
 Lady Soj)bia looked at the silver bobbin on the 
 floor ; was it going to come at last ? she pondered. 
 There was a pause, she dared not move — Winning- 
 ton's whispering tones came to her across the room, 
 but she could not raise her eyes to discover where 
 those other eyes were looking, as the low pitched 
 voice continued rapidly — 
 
 '*That glorious old Palazzo, those magnificent 
 gardens ! Sometimes the orange-scented leaves 
 come to me in dreams, and once one begins to 
 dream, one goes on dreaming — dreaming,"— 
 he paused again. " Perhaps I shall never see 
 that old garden, or if so, not find the old 
 fragrance there," he added in broken sentences. 
 '* Happiness does not attach itself to localities, yet 
 I was happy there. Wherein lay the secret of it. 
 Lady Sophia? or can there be degrees in 
 happiness. No ! no more than in truth itself, that 
 is my creed. There is no first and second, at 
 least not for me, not for one of my nature — with 
 others it may be different. But I can never taste 
 that peace which I found at the Ridolfi ; never
 
 2 1 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 again, unless I meet with the old friends, and find 
 them as I myself am, unclianged ; for I have 
 never changed, never, Lady Sophia, notwithstan d- 
 ing the false impressions which, perhaps, were 
 formed regarding me — I have ever been the 
 same, and if I dared hope that it was so with 
 others likewise, that the dear friends of that happy 
 time were still as I believed them then to be, that 
 they had not judged me lightly, rashly, in an un- 
 just or a hasty spirit, and that I had not fallen in 
 their — their — esteem, let me call it, then indeed, it 
 
 might be Ah, Lady Henrietta ! confess that I 
 
 am the only man of gallantry here — not one of 
 these lazy gentlemen would stir themselves in your 
 service," added Lincoln in confusion ; snatching 
 up the silver bobbin from the floor and presenting 
 it with a jerk to Lady Henrietta, who had softly 
 crossed the room and overheard the concluding 
 sentence of his speech ; but Lady Henrietta was 
 prudent. 
 
 "I was forced to come for it myself," she 
 said, receiving the spool ; " at a certain stage of
 
 Easton Neston, 219 
 
 the thermometer the gallantry of your sex evapo- 
 rates. But it is settled nevertheless that we are to 
 face the terrors of the garden and set out for the 
 river-side, though it has been carried against the 
 votes of the only two sensible people here, Mr. 
 Winnington and myself — yet we accept the 
 decision with a good grace. Mr. Winnington 
 contracts not to disturb public order by a single 
 spiteful observation. Miss Montagu answers for 
 his good behaviour, though the security is doubtful. 
 There are to be haycocks by the water's edge 
 under the limes for us to sit upon, and we take our 
 netting bags, and shall see the trout jump, and the 
 gardeners are to send down strawberries and any 
 peaches that can be found. Somebody is to make 
 rebuses, Mr. Winnington I suppose. And we shall 
 guess them — Miss Montagu excels as an impro- 
 visatrice. You, Lord Lincoln, are set down to read 
 Petrarch in your softest Tuscan. So you must look 
 quite as sentimental as you can." 
 
 " Yes, people of fashion have cast off French to 
 their valets and waiting women, and the softer
 
 220 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Italian is now the language of life," said George 
 Montagu, who had just entered. " If ladies would 
 only dress for the occasion, it would be one of 
 Watteau's sylvan scenes." 
 
 *' Or a scene from the Decameron," whispered 
 Mr. Pitt. 
 
 " Perhaps the last scene of all which marks this 
 strange eventful history ; who knows ?" said 
 Winnington in the same tone, glancing at Lady 
 Sophia and her lover, who passed from the room 
 together, the rest of the ladies following. 
 
 " Hey, Montagu, you look hotter than any of 
 us ; where have you come from, last ?" 
 
 " From hell then direct, as you ask," said 
 Montagu, " and by a miracle I effected my escape 
 in safety." 
 
 "Is the temperature as bad as in this place?" 
 asked Winnington. 
 
 " Go up by the north-west gallery to Lempster's 
 rooms^ and judge for yourself; it's hotter than I 
 could support : you'll find a cask of sack on draught 
 there, and the luckiest pair of dice I ever saw come
 
 East on Neston. 221 
 
 out of a box, besides half a dozen rustic cutpurses 
 swearing their lungs out. If you fancy a new 
 sensation, mount to the Inferno in the north-west 
 gallery ; but keep your sword and leave your purse, 
 for if drunkenness the peace-maker don't mercifully 
 seize them all, there will be a brawl before dinner- 
 time, faugh ! their filthy tobacco pipes ! I must 
 air my clothes ; let us follow to the summer-house, 
 and see this odd sport to the end.
 
 ( 222 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A WATTEAU. 
 
 However bright the summer sun on the meadows, 
 Lady Pomfret did not join the gay company that 
 passed down the lawn to the water's edge. She 
 had no fancy for Watteau costumes, or poetry, or 
 rebuses, or Mr. Winning ton's conundrums, or 
 Lord Lincoln's harmonious Italian ; but she gave 
 instructions to the servants about the strawberries 
 and cream and other refreshments to be served in 
 the summer-house, and then sailed away alone into 
 the interior of the house, her mind occupied with 
 varied anxieties. The conduct of all the proceed- 
 ings was upon her shoulders — the responsibility lay 
 with her alone : she had to combine and organise, 
 as well as supervise, the execution of every detail ; 
 and, if tilings had so far moved on smoothly and
 
 A VVatteau, 223 
 
 pleasantly, still there was not nmch progress, little 
 actual business had been done, she could not feel 
 satisfied about it. Lord Lincoln, though several 
 days in the house, had not yet advanced beyond 
 the mooning and gaping point — beyond the posi- 
 tion in which things were before leaving town. 
 It was all very well to have a great match, and the 
 heir to a dukedom dangling after one's handsome 
 daughter, but this sterile dangling had continued 
 so long at one point, that the novelty, as well as 
 the excitement, of it had passed away. It was no 
 longer the light literature of flirtation that the 
 Countess desired to see, but a practical business- 
 turn pointing to a definite result. 
 
 So when Lady Henrietta came up to ask if her 
 mother would not choose to hear my Lord 
 Lincoln read Petrarch in the summer-house, the 
 Countess was near giving her daughter a smart 
 box on the ear for answer. Petrarch, indeed ! at 
 this time of the day, when Sophia was all but com- 
 promised by his attentions, when her name was in 
 everybody's mouth, when a man of honour should
 
 224 ^ Chro7iicle of the Fermors, 
 
 be talking to papa about provisions and settle- 
 ments, instead of airing his mawkish Tuscan under 
 the lime trees. 
 
 Reading Italian, forsooth. The Countess hated 
 the word in connection with Lincoln, she had had 
 enough already of his Italian sentiment, the word 
 was ominous to her. 
 
 It was out of all reason, this eternal mooning, 
 and dangling, and ogling, and sliding away from 
 the point. Was Lord Lincoln going to make a 
 duchess of Sophia ? and if so, why didn't he offer 
 a proposition in black and white to that effect? 
 It was not a question of haycocks and summer- 
 houses ; of cooling breezes and Petrarchs any 
 longer. If Lincoln did not mean to do that, then 
 what did the man mean ? Why didn't he come to 
 an intelligible decision either one way or the other? 
 With her clear business-eye, the Countess saw all 
 round the question at a glance. 
 
 Even if he hesitated through bashfulness, what 
 was Sophia about ? why didn't she lead him up 
 point-blank to a declaration ? What was the use of
 
 A Watteau. 225 
 
 lecturing and forming the girl in secret if she did 
 not apply the lessons at such a crisis as this ; also 
 with the antecedent disaster at Florence before her 
 for a warning? What was the advantage of 
 holding the hand of trumps she did^ if without 
 the skill to play them out ? The Countess was 
 losing patience with everybody. 
 
 Here was the last chance. If Lincoln departed 
 this time without leaving a proposal behind him, 
 it was over with the project. If nothing came 
 of this visit, nothing would ever come after it, 
 and she would remain not only a disappointed and 
 a miserable woman, but the laughing-stock of the 
 town for the rest of her days. 
 
 It will be seen that Lady Pomfret was admirably 
 candid with herself, and did not use any subterfuge 
 of language to disguise the character of the proceed- 
 ings as far as she was herself concerned. It was 
 simply the birdcatcher's eye watching the linnet 
 approach the twig which was so cleverly limed to 
 snare it, a tantalising state of mind enough, what 
 wonder if the lid was constantly getting off her 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 temper at each fresh disappointing flutter of the twit- 
 tering game. At present her brow wore a peculiar 
 pucker as she passed upstairs to her own quarters. 
 
 The menials of the establishment knew that 
 pucker well, and avoided an encounter with her 
 Ladyship when the portentous wrinkle appeared. 
 It was the storm drum, which indicated that a 
 tempest was very nigh. Even members of the 
 family, the daughters — my Earl himself — were not 
 indifferent to the symbol. Everybody quailed 
 before it except, perhaps, the heedless and reckless 
 Lempster, the heir and hope, as well as the fool, of 
 the family, and already the sharpest thorn in his 
 mother's side. Yet this coarse underbred son, 
 whose life was already a disgrace, whose extrava- 
 gance had become a real anxiety, was the only 
 person alive, perhaps, that Lady Pomfret feared. 
 
 No principle restrained him ; never had a gene- 
 rous impulse leavened his selfishness, yet his heavy, 
 brutal nature cowed her, and she dreaded to 
 thwart or arouse it. 
 
 A few moments afterwards, while traversing the
 
 A Watteau. 
 
 227 
 
 north-east gallery, a clicking sound reached her 
 ears, and simultaneously the reverberation of an 
 oath, then an overbearing, inarticulate, familiar 
 voice rang out in angry tones. 
 
 Ah ! what was that noise ? 
 
 The ominous pucker on the maternal brow faded 
 into a black shadow, as if a cloud had passed 
 before the sun. 
 
 " What, in the broad summer noon, surrounded 
 by guests, to turn the house into a gambling hell ! 
 How heedless — how dead to the instincts of his 
 race, of a gentleman, to the interests of us all," she 
 exclaimed; but together with her anger her 
 characteristic caution awoke. '* How to keep this 
 secret, and prevent the scandal of it from S23rend- 
 ing ?" she reflected ; as a renewed burst of wrang- 
 ling voices swept down the corridor. 
 
 " You may be rattling away a Dukedom in your 
 dice-box^ and scattering your sister's prospects on 
 the table," she cried out fiercely. There was 
 fortunately no one there to hear, all the rooms 
 were empty. 
 
 ,, 2
 
 22 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 '' But he would not care, not he ; he cares for 
 nothing," she gasped, as rising anger choked her. 
 An over-mastering impulse, the tigress came up in 
 her then ; for a moment it seemed that the hghtning 
 would leap out of the cloud, and she crossed the 
 corridor with a sort of bound ; but it was merely to 
 lay her fingers lightly on the handle of the chamber 
 door, and turn promptly away ; the indiscretion 
 of an exposure was ajDparent. He had little love 
 or respect for her ; an encounter would only expose 
 her to a scene of brutality perhaps^ and promote a 
 greater scandal ; so with a deep sigh, she gathered 
 her floating silks quickly together, and retraced 
 her steps, rustling down the gallery, while the clatter 
 of the falling dice-box kept singing in her ears. 
 
 *' Wretched boy, obstinate and selfish like his 
 father !" she exclaimed, mounting the staircase 
 which led directly to her own apartments. '' My 
 life has been worn out working and watching 
 for them all, yet they combine against me as if on 
 purpose ; obstinate and careless like his father." 
 
 This ricochet of spleen towards my Earl was
 
 A Watteau. 229 
 
 singularly unjust, and had no special meaning, 
 perhaps, in her mind, except that, being angry 
 with Lempster, her feelings instinctively dis- 
 charged themselves on the natural and legitimate 
 scapegoat her husband ; besides_, the form of ex- 
 pression was habitual with her, and in family 
 skirmishing often answered the useful purpose of 
 killing two birds with one stone. 
 
 "They are all alike incompetent, ignorant, 
 apathetic, obstinate," she repeated, gaining the 
 threshold of her chamber ; but here a real victim 
 in unsuspecting flesh and blood was meekly 
 waiting to receive a discharge from her bad 
 temper. Prim Mrs. Rogers, the housekeeper, 
 stood in her cap and mittens, morocco account- 
 book in hand, bland and smiling, with the smug 
 confidential air belonging to her office. 
 
 But the Countess snatched the account-book and 
 tossed it in her face, screaming out at the waste 
 and mismanagement of the house, the indifference 
 of the dinners, and neglect of the servants; 
 Lempster's transgressions, Sophia's stupidity,
 
 230 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 Lincoln's delay, all, all came down together on 
 the head of the astonished and unoffending 
 matron. Then the Countess banged the door. 
 She was, maybe, better for this relief to her nerves. 
 
 There was a sofa between the draught of the 
 window and door, and by the sofa a cabinet ; she 
 unlocked the cabinet with a cunning little key sus- 
 pended at her girdle, and took out a small mother- 
 of-pearl tipped flask ; it was like a smelling-salts 
 bottle, but the flask did not contain sal- volatile. 
 
 Eemember that she was fighting her battle of life, 
 and in the hot press of the combat. It is not a 
 pleasant thing to relate — according to conventional 
 forms, the narrator owes an apology for being so 
 particular. Perhaps it was not a graceful thing 
 for her to do, or for the reader to see, but Lady 
 Pomfret was not a heroine, nor shall we say exactly 
 that which is called a model in the language of 
 fiction sense, however irreproachable her life may 
 have been. Let those who may, cast the first 
 stone. She was no saint or ascetic ; but a coura- 
 geous, pushing child of the world — of this world
 
 A Watteau, 23 1 
 
 miud, not the other — one wlio always stood forward 
 in the middle of the scramble for its gifts and 
 chances. Yet now a crisis had come ; her debased 
 son had struck at her cruelly. Here a great scandal 
 was being committed, and it might be disclosed, and 
 perhaps ruin everything. It was something Hke 
 mutiny in the ranks while in face of the enemy. 
 
 What if Lincoln himself should hear of it, and 
 take alarm ! The Countess exaggerated the cir- 
 cumstance, as people do when their own interests 
 and feelings are enlisted. 
 
 It was something unforeseen, a contingency for 
 which there had been no provision in the plan of 
 the campaign, an ambuscade. What wonder if 
 there was some confusion at the discovery, if 
 her temper, her nerves, even her courage, began 
 to waver ? At such a crisis Lady Pomfret was 
 one to snatch at a consolation or a restorative, 
 wherever she could find it — in the flask, or else- 
 where. And if at such an emergency help lay in 
 yonder cabinet, and she had the key at her 
 girdle — what then ? Should she refuse to help
 
 232 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 herself? As a fact, she felt no squeamish ness 
 about turning the lock. 
 
 Meanwhile the expedition to the river side went 
 well. Lord Lincoln read a page of Petrarch, 
 Winnington sprawled on a haycock and, shaded by 
 a sycamore, lay dissolving in the heat ; and Mr. 
 Pitt tried an improvisation with Miss Montagu's 
 guitar, and failed in it. The instrument was 
 untuned and the audience unsympathetic, he said, 
 in answer to the sarcasms of his auditory, and that 
 was the whole of his fault. 
 
 Then George Montagu took up a volume from 
 the grass, and in a mock sentimental way began 
 to read to Lady Henrietta. 
 
 " My gentle maiden ! 
 The hour of our appointment long is past, 
 Already down the slope on beds of green 
 The slanting sunbeam sleeps, and underneath 
 The dark grey firs the darker shadows stretch. 
 As if impatient for their home, the East. 
 
 Awhile the heralder of eve the rail, 
 Railed at his mocking fellow as I passed ; 
 So come — the plumed laburnum waves you forth. 
 And every sylvan flow'ret droops with hope 
 Longing to feast her vi'let eyes on you :
 
 A Watteau, 
 
 "-33 
 
 You that are grace and prettiness itself, 
 
 The pretty playthings sure will not disdain, 
 
 Nor longer keep the fluted throstle mute 
 
 That waits to chime your advent through the grove. 
 
 So shall we forth along the velvet sward. 
 On by the tangled mazes of the wood, 
 Into the twilight of o'er-hanging boughs 
 Where the furze glimmers, and the blue bell peeps, 
 Along the pathway — while aloft. 
 High in the belfry of the tallest pine, 
 Like to a sylvan spirit mad with joy. 
 The cuckoo rings his echo down the vale." 
 
 " If somebody would silence Montagu, the musi- 
 cian might entertain us with another failure, 
 perhaps," said Winnington, glancing at Mr. Pitt, 
 who mockingly kept strumming the strings of the 
 guitar in a determined way as if meditating a 
 surprising effort. " He shows a sign of returning 
 confidence." " Ecce Signum," then exclaimed the 
 other, at once singing this time a ballad of Mr. 
 Gay's, very popular at the period. 
 
 " Phyllida, that lov'd to dream 
 In the grove or by the stream, 
 Sigh'd on velvet pillow. 
 What, alas ! should fill her head 
 But a fountain or a mead, 
 Water and a willow ?
 
 234 ^ Chronicle of the Ferinors. 
 
 " Love in cities never dwells, 
 He delights in rural cells 
 Which sweet woodbine covers, 
 What are your assemblies then ? 
 There 'tis true we see more men, 
 But much fewer lovers. 
 
 " Oh, how changed the prospect grows ! 
 Flocks and herds to fops and beaux. 
 Coxcombs without number : 
 Moon and stars that shone so bright 
 To the torch and waxen light, 
 And whole nights at ombre." 
 
 "Do let US have strawberries in the summer 
 house," said Winnington, rolling from the haycock 
 to his feet, "anything to put an end to this 
 wearisome farce." 
 
 " Which farce ? there is but one way of ending 
 tliat^' said Montagu, glancing at Lady Sophia and 
 her lover, who sat on the margin of the stream 
 some dozen yards away embowered in branches 
 and leaves, partly invisible to the others. 
 
 '' Here love and music, yonder strawberries and 
 
 cream ; let us go," said Winnington. 
 
 « ' Phyllida, that lov'd to di-eam 
 In the grove or by the stream.'
 
 A Watteau, 
 
 ^Zb 
 
 That looks a promising prospect, Montagu." 
 
 *^ It is neither a novelty nor a difficulty to him 
 to do that ; he has always contrived to look 
 promising ; it's his way of raising expectations." 
 
 " But if his expectations be great, consider all 
 he is heir to." 
 
 " He seems heir to much happiness at present." 
 
 " And will inherit it," said Winnington, putting 
 up his eyeglass at Lincoln's reclining figure. 
 
 " I doubt." 
 
 " You are overheard," said Miss Montagu in 
 an undertone. And Winnington, intercepting an 
 oblique glance from the sharp Lady Henrietta, 
 turned to George Montagu, and in an indifferent 
 tone continued their talk about a plan for taking 
 trout with flies in the dog days. 
 
 Lord Lincoln and Lady Sophia were separated 
 from the others by a screen of intervening branches 
 — overhead a hawthorn in flower, a bend of the 
 stream swept murmuring below, and a fragrant 
 snow shower of overblown blossoms rained down 
 on the whispering pair. The air was heavy with
 
 236 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 scents, the river murmured by musically in soft 
 cadence to the lovers' confidences. Lady Sophia 
 was radiant with the light of happiness, her 
 beauty was enhanced, transfigured by this added 
 lustre, and Lord Lincoln, struck by the similitude 
 of the scene, read aloud the well-known stanza 
 from the open Petrarch on his knee : — 
 
 " Una pioggia di fior sovra '1 suo grembo : 
 Ed ella si sedea 
 Umile in tanta gloria, 
 Coverta gia dell' amoroso nembo : 
 Qual fior cadea snl lembo, 
 Qual suUe trecce bionde ; 
 Ch' oro forbito e perle 
 Eran quel di a vederle 
 Qual si posava in terra, e qual suU' onde : 
 Qual con un vago errore 
 Girando, parea dir, * Qui regna Amore.' "* 
 
 * Lines which Father Prout has translated : 
 
 " Here as she once reclined, 
 A shower of blossoms on her bosom fell, 
 And while th' enamoured tree 
 From all its branches thus 
 Rained odoriferous, 
 She sat unconscious, all humility — 
 Mixed with her golden hair, those blossoms sweet
 
 A Watteau. 237 
 
 But the musical Italian verse was not needed 
 to supply Lincoln with fanciful imagery. His 
 imagination was rich in colour of its own ; and 
 his emotions, glowing under the influence of per- 
 fect beauty, asked for no promptings at second- 
 hand, even from the embalmed spirit of Petrarch. 
 The glamour of the love-spell was on him ; 
 that vision of loveliness filled him like an inspira- 
 tion ; his senses drank it in like the scents from the 
 jessamine. Madonna Laura — Madonna Sophia! — 
 did she not surpass all the love dreams which artist 
 or poet had imagined or votary embalmed in 
 song? 
 
 He plucked a flower from beside her hand 
 resting on the grass. Holding the flower between 
 his fingers, their hands met. 
 
 Like pearls on amber seemed ; 
 Some their allegiance deemed 
 Due to her floating robe and lovely feet • 
 Others, disporting, took 
 Their course adown the brook : 
 Others aloft in airy sport 
 
 Seemed to proclaim, ' To-day Love holds his merry 
 court.' "
 
 238 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Lady Henrietta came near to summon tliem' to 
 tlie summer liouse, but she did not come quite near. 
 Lady Henrietta was not one to commit a clumsy 
 sin of interference twice, so slie retraced her steps 
 and cleverly got the others of the party off to the 
 house and strawberries without disturbing the 
 lovers. 
 
 After refreshment in the arbour the temperature 
 cooled ; then followed some make-believe hay- 
 making by the ladies, a little well-bred romping 
 among the haycocks, and the party divided into 
 groups or jDairs, disjDersing through the pleasure- 
 grounds and returning at intervals to the house, 
 leaving Lord Lincoln and Lady Sophia still con- 
 versing by the river-side.
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A VISION OF BLISS. 
 
 A PAETY of these loiterers passed Lady Pomfret 
 on the great staircase. She was again in the front. 
 The Countess had mounted a fresh horse as it were 
 and resumed the command. That affair in the 
 north-east corridor was to be managed someway, 
 how, was not yet clear, but she would get over it. 
 'Twas a difficulty merely, not an obstacle. So 
 she swept down ovei* the field again, sighting 
 the position as it were, reviewing the troops, ready 
 for any emergency. A fresh effort — another 
 charge, to lead a forlorn hope if the case required it. 
 Her courage was refreshed, and her face wore a 
 slight flush perhaps, though the temperature had 
 cooled and the afternoon breezes were astir. 
 
 She spoke to some of her guests as they passed
 
 240 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 on the lobby. There was no trace of emotion in 
 her face or voice, though her temper was still 
 simmering, for meeting her second daughter in 
 the hall, she inquired crossly for Lady Sophia, 
 and continued in a querulous, complaining way. 
 
 " Sophy has mislaid the key of the china closet, 
 and Rogers wants to get out some ware. Every- 
 thing appears going wrong to day — as if on 
 purpose to fidget and worry me," she said, thinking 
 again of the gambling party in the gallery. " I 
 can neither find the key nor my daughter. You 
 all appear to keep out of the way on purpose. 
 Pray where am I to look for Sophy ?" 
 
 " You have only to look straight before you, 
 mamma, to see her. She is down there ever since !" 
 exclaimed Lady Charlotte, pointing to where Lady 
 Sophia's white dress and bright blue ribbons 
 appeared glimmering through the trees. " Down 
 by the river — there, beyond the summer house. 
 They have been quite alone these hours, mamma ; 
 they have not stirred for the whole of the day," 
 she added, lowering her voice to a whisper.
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 241 
 
 The Countess looked. Then she gazed into her 
 daughter's face steadily. It was not the first 
 time that Lady Charlotte had shown a propensity 
 to meddle in this delicate affair. Lady Charlotte 
 had an active disposition, an inclination towards 
 business. She was her own child in that way, 
 and the Countess mistrusted her. 
 
 " And Lord Lincoln has never left: her, mamma ?" 
 
 "I don't wonder at people not choosing to move 
 about on such a day as this," answered the 
 Countess placidly, and in an accent which said. 
 There shall be no confidence with you, so put it out 
 of your head, and attend to your own affairs. " If I 
 cannot sit still it is my fault, because activity is my 
 nature ; but I admire the discretion of those who 
 can rest in such a temperature. I should cultivate 
 indolence also if I had any in my disposition." 
 
 "As you please, mamma. Every one to her 
 taste. I am going up to the harpsichord, and 
 Henrietta has already returned to her pole screen : 
 you see we are your own daughters for industry," 
 tartly answered Lady Charlotte, tossing her head, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 242 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 ^'Sophia may be one of the idle virgins, and 
 dangle away her time, but we are not. We are 
 models and good children," she added saucily, 
 arching her neck and opening her fan. 
 
 "You are all good children indeed," said the 
 mother timidly, drooping her eyes at this 
 direct challenge. Of all her daughters, this 
 one had her most under control. " Tell me, 
 Dolly, has he really been alone with her ever 
 since, all this time ?" she inquired in a mollified 
 tone. " I am hot and cross, and worried, do not 
 be smart with me. Where is Henrietta ? she must 
 have remained with them for the look of it ; she 
 ought to have remained. Yet I do not see 
 Henrietta !" 
 
 " Henrietta is gone to her pole screen, as I say, 
 mamma," answered Lady Dolly in an unbending 
 way, "and I— I promised Miss Montagu to 
 practise a new minuet of Monsieur Courbet's. I 
 cannot wait. I cannot disappoint Miss Montagu, 
 on any account, and I know nothing of anything 
 going on down there either. How should I ?
 
 A Vision of Bliss, 243 
 
 Sophia is not my confidant, nor apparently any- 
 body else either," and Lady Charlotte sailed 
 haughtily upstairs in her Watteau costume of 
 light silk with blue satin stripes, and a gipsy 
 hat bound with meadow daisies, framing in her 
 proud, beautiful face with its clustering auburn 
 ringlets. 
 
 Another stab, and from a filial hand ! It seemed 
 as if the proverbial serpent's tooth of thankless 
 ofi'spring was in one shape or other to keep gnaw- 
 ing at the Countess through the course of that day. 
 But no ! It was not true in every instance. There 
 was a view yonder by the river. The Countess 
 looked again with charmed eyes. How she longed 
 to go down there nearer. It was a sore tempta- 
 tion, but mere madness, to think of it in sight 
 of all the windows, and the park studded with 
 spies in hooped petticoats — that was not to be 
 thought of. Yet the fascination of that view 
 was irresistible, and she stood awhile longer under 
 the pillars of the portico gazing through the 
 open doors, thankful for the few moments of un- 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 disturbed opportunity and leisure. Then a con- 
 siderate angel inspired her with a clever thought — 
 a guardian angel, may be; for possibly grown- 
 up worldly people, as well as simpering cherub- 
 faced children in tawdry prints and ritualistic 
 decorations, are also provided with those gentle, 
 considerate counsellors in impossible wings. 
 
 There was the Gothic window of the library 
 overlooking the stream and the summer-house ; the 
 western window with the stained glass coat of 
 arms ; the Jefferies coat with supporters by the 
 right-hand mullion — that which had been especially 
 placed there as a piece of superfluous ornamen- 
 tation for this visit of Lord Lincoln's. At this 
 hour the library would be empty. There was a 
 telescope on the library table. 
 
 The library was empty. The Countess stood 
 with her back against the door for a moment. She 
 was out of breath from the speed of the rush up- 
 stairs. Was it merely the exercise, or else the 
 effect of mental excitement ? But a quicker action 
 of the heart brought her to an alarming pause
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 245 
 
 then. There was a mystery and a dread about 
 that sensitive- and excitable heart of hers. She 
 had a fear or a superstition concerning it, a 
 beHef that she should some day drop down 
 suddenly without any warning, perhaps in the 
 midst of some successful project oi* scheme ; it 
 might be at the supreme moment of triumph while 
 extending her hand to gather in the harvest. It 
 might come then. What if it should be now ? if 
 this was the appointed hour ? If death were to 
 arrive at this moment while her eyes longed for 
 that vision of bliss beyond the sycamore leaves ? 
 
 Oh, if it should be ! that fate was so cruel, 
 that she was to perish in view of the Land 
 of Promise, never to enter, with those weary 
 feet which had been travelling so long through 
 the desert in pursuit of a settlement and a 
 dukedom. But it was not yet. The Countess 
 gave a long deep sigh, and her strength returned. 
 The first application which she made of it was to 
 shoot the bolt of the door, then cross the room to 
 double lock the corresponding one on the other side.
 
 246 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 bolting that leading into the vestibule and the gal- 
 lery. She came back to the table, and removed the 
 dusty covering from the telescope, carefully adjust- 
 ing the instrument to a proper focus. 
 
 There she remained kneeling in a state of 
 beatific vision if not in prayer, her hoop swelling 
 around an immense pillow of silk, with a frizzled 
 and powdered head fixed in the centre of it, her 
 eye steady at the orifice of the friendly glass. 
 Eager, anxious, observant. Not a detail escaped 
 her ; not a movement of the white dress coming in 
 glimpses through the asb leaves, not a flutter of a 
 blue ribbon, not a gesture nor change of position 
 of the gentleman reclining on the river bank. 
 Sometimes' an accident interrupted the range of the 
 glass ; a sligbt change of position which brought 
 an intervening brancb or haycock awkwardly in 
 the line of vision ; but the Countess saw suffi- 
 ciently well, and was content with the prospect. 
 
 Distance lent its proverbial enchantment to the 
 view, and her eager imagination filled in whatever 
 appeared to be wanting in the action of the lovers.
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 247 
 
 That hour passed in the library was one of the 
 happiest of her life. Such hours are while fancy 
 and imagination supply the coloured ingredients 
 of them. She remained at her post until the 
 last minute, when the return of people from the 
 gardens, and a threatened invasion of the library, 
 compelled her to unlock the door, to replace the 
 telescope on the bookshelf, and resume the routine 
 of the general duties of hostess. 
 
 In the great entrance hall she encountered Mrs. 
 Oommyns of Rosslyn, Mrs. Lomax and her two 
 daughters, and a flock of gentlemen, Montagu and 
 the rest, almost the last division of guests, return- 
 ing together at the approach of the dinner hour. 
 Lady Pomfret had a natural and legitimate hatred 
 of those ladies. Of Mrs. Commyns, not only be- 
 cause she was thought like herself in person, but 
 was undeniably younger, and also, shall we say, 
 more gifted in personal charms. She had a certain 
 distinction of style, but that might have been on 
 account of the difference of height ; a little thing 
 gives an effect, and Mrs. Commyns had the ad-
 
 248 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 vantage by an inch perhaps. Before the Countess 
 came back from the Continent with the increase 
 of embonpoint, which still shortened her figure and 
 diminished her style, she might have passed for as 
 much of a beauty as that dressy Mrs. Commyns, but 
 now it was different. How contemporary ladies of 
 a certain age do envy each other the few pieces of 
 small change of personal charms which time, the un- 
 gallant highwayman, still refrains from pilfering. 
 How busy and interested Mrs. Grundy grows on this 
 subject, on the solvent character of the faces of her 
 matronly acquaintances. The question of degree 
 is of such importance to her. How she curtails 
 and detracts, explains away a beauty, gives private 
 information about a blush. Yonder face is not so 
 rich as it pretends to be, my dear, but like other 
 pretenders to fortune, has obtained a show of ready 
 money by paying usurious interest ; Mrs. Grrundy 
 could tell where the loan was effected and how. 
 She knew the den where the Jew dwelt who sold 
 the rouge and plaster. There was an ancestress of 
 Mrs. Grundy living in the last century, who moved
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 249 
 
 as much amongst persons of quality as her descen- 
 dant does in fashionable circles now ; she resided 
 very respectably then in the neighbourhood of Duke 
 Street, it might have been, or some equally fas- 
 tidious and elegant street cutting between Lincoln's 
 Inn and Covent Garden, a district wherein the 
 carriage of her dainty descendant is rarely visible. 
 Towards Mrs. Lomax the Countess had merely 
 a strong professional dislike. There was no room 
 for personal rivalry with that beady-eyed, copper- 
 gkinned, lanthorn-cheeked little lady; good and 
 pious, she might have been, but as lean, the Lord 
 preserve us ! as a monkey — but she had daughters 
 to marry, heiresses two of them, girls with not half 
 the faces of her daughters, although with double, 
 treble their fortune. What honest mother does 
 not feel injured by an injustice of that kind ? yet 
 the Countess was now all civility to Mrs. Lomax ; 
 she seemed disposed to embrace her on the spot ; 
 she complimented Mrs. Commyns on her good 
 looks, her heart was full of joy, of light and 
 happiness.
 
 250 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 How well it is when things are going well with 
 us. If every baby were only born with that my- 
 thical silver spoon in its mouth, what a much 
 better man it would grow into. How smooth the 
 ruggedness of life would become then, how much 
 kinder towards each other we should all be. 
 If Providence had only arranged it otherwise, and 
 given to each individual some other lot in life 
 than that which he actually holds, what universal 
 contentment would follow. 
 
 Mrs. Commyns had been gathering flowers, and 
 Lady Pomfret plucked away at the exotics in the 
 verandah leading from the hall, to add to her pro- 
 digal bouquet. The lady admired some of them, 
 and the Countess declared that the gardener sliould 
 carry over the plants to Eosslyn ; the ladies were all 
 mutual smiles and politeness, and a little mutually 
 mystified perhaps at finding themselves nodding 
 and smirking so amiably into each other's rival 
 faces. But the Countess was not only polite and 
 affable to Mrs. Commyns, to the saturnine, envious 
 Mrs. Lomax, but even to George Montagu ; she
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 25 1 
 
 had a laughing sentence for him too, though he 
 had been in the way from the beginning, and 
 was notoriously not a marrying man. 
 
 Presently, when grateful Mrs. Oommyns began 
 to repay these compliments by wondering, in an 
 artful, pleasant way, where Lord Lincoln could have 
 hidden himself all the day, and feared that Lady 
 Sophia might have gone astray also, as they had 
 fceen seen together, everybody laughed except Mrs. 
 Lomax, whose parchment brow contracted a deeper 
 shade. Lady Pomfret fancied that her own joyful 
 glistening eyes betrayed no emotion^ no happy con- 
 sciousness at this pleasant banter. She had no 
 presentiment of what was coming presently^ swiftly 
 as the breeze which brought up a fleeting shadow 
 before the now descending sun. 
 
 So the group of ladies stood laughing and saying 
 pretty things to each other at the foot of the great 
 staircase — it was a pleasant picture. The ascending 
 line of dark oak balusters relieved by rows of 
 carved and enamelled escutcheons. The sun, 
 gleaming in slantwise through the pillars of the
 
 252 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 entrance, touched the flowers, the satin petticoats, 
 the shimmering suits of armour. A marble Cupid 
 struggled with a swan in the centre of the hall, 
 and at the foot of its pedestal the youngest Miss 
 Lomax stood, dangling her garden hat by its 
 apricot ribbon ; the Countess thought her almost 
 good-looking then. The small dollish face dimpling 
 rosily at a pert compliment from Greorge Montagu, 
 and as it turned away a sunbeam seized the 
 rippling flaxen hair. 
 
 A signal from the clock turret answered by a 
 boom from the bronze dinner-bell went swinging 
 over the lea, it stopped the rattle of the dice box 
 in the gallery up stairs, roused Winnington from 
 a doze in the library, and on the greensward by 
 the river-side disturbed my Lord Alonzo the brave 
 and the fair Imogene, who so lovingly sat and 
 conversed there. 
 
 Lady Pomfret was deliberating whether to retire 
 in order to avoid the scrutiny of her friends, when 
 Lincoln and her daughter should presently enter 
 the porch, but she did not retire.
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 253 
 
 Ah ! What was that ? the strange tightness of 
 the heart seized the Countess again. 
 
 A cry ! 
 
 Another scream, so near that it seemed in the 
 hall itself, a piercing signal of human agony. 
 " Murder !" In a distinct yet strange, unfamiliar 
 tone the word came up. What was it ? An answer- 
 ing cry of terror from Miss Lomax, who sank faint- 
 ing at the foot of the Cupid, added to the confusion ; 
 but already the gentlemen had pushed open "the 
 door at the end of the wall^ and, guided by fresh 
 cries, penetrated into the house. 
 
 A sort of antechamber communicated with the 
 servants' hall, and G-eorge Montagu, the first of the 
 party, pushed back the door and entered. A 
 strange sight presented itself there. 
 
 Lord Lempster was standing in the middle of the 
 room in his breeches and waistcoat, a drawn sword 
 in one hand, and in the other a bunch of lace 
 which he had torn from the breast of another 
 figure, who, with a chair projected in attitude of 
 defence, was blocked up into the farthest corner of
 
 254 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 the room. His face was deadly white, and the 
 ruffle on his wrist dabbled with blood. This was 
 the French valet, Monsieur Alphonse, Lord Lin- 
 coln's servant. 
 
 " Help ! Misericorde ! Sauvez-moi, Messieurs — 
 for the love of heaven, mi Lord, I have tell you I 
 cannot chomp, I have done my best, I have the 
 rheumatise a la jambe droite, and it is impossible 
 what you ask, mi Lords ; on m'assassine, au secours ! 
 Mi Lord est tout-a-fait hors de lui." 
 
 ^' Stay, Lempster, what is it all about ?" in- 
 quired Montagu, answering the appeal, catching 
 Lord Lempster by the arm. 
 
 But the other shook himself loose, and bounding 
 over the intervening bench, in a husky voice 
 as unsteady as his legs, bawled out, " Jump, you 
 cowardly brute, jump for my wager, or I'll spit you 
 like a rat ! Shall I put money on a d — parley 
 voo Johnny Crapaud of a dancing master who 
 won't jump ? There is but a minute to spare, clear 
 over the table or — " and my Lord flourished his 
 weapon aloft in a sort of zig-zag circle, but his
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 255 
 
 feet were rickety and awkward, and tlie blade 
 scraped the flags in an eccentric swoop. 
 
 " Lempster !" Montagu seized his arm firmly. 
 
 " Here I have betted with Dicky Thornton that 
 this Monseer would clear that table in a standing 
 jump, and the beast refuses to do it, wants to lose 
 my money for nothing," called out Lempster in an 
 expostulating tone. 
 
 '' Le moyen de jomper avec un mal de jambe 
 comme 9a," pleaded the valet ; " I appeal to all the 
 milords, it is impossible." 
 
 " Time ish up, and so money ish mine," hiccupped 
 out young Squire Thornton, who stood apart with 
 a watch from each of his fobs in each of his hands, 
 his peruke over his nose, and an idiotic leer on his 
 drunken face. 
 
 " Then I'll have the value of it in kind, if the 
 money is gone," bawls out Lempster ; '' shall I be 
 baulked by a jibbering, jabbering knave in my 
 own house ?" and he shook his sword arm free for 
 another lunge. 
 
 " If you don't jump for my pieces you shall for my
 
 256 A Chronicle of the FeTfnors. 
 
 pleasure, by you shall for your life, or leave it 
 
 here behind you," he repeated, reeling forward. 
 
 But some one threw a cloak nimbly over the 
 weapon_, and he was disarmed in a trice, while the 
 valet bounded over the seat like a hare, and as he 
 escaped scared the ladies gathered in the doorway 
 with his bloody wrist and ruffles. 
 
 " Be careful, Lempster, you fool, that's Lincoln's 
 man ! don't expose yourself before the people," 
 whispered Montagu. ^^ Get away to your own room 
 quietly, you have frightened all the women ; a nice 
 morning's work ; you are not fit to be seen, go ! " 
 
 " Not so easy to frighten them, the women, as 
 you think ; I know better than that/' replied Lord 
 Lempster, with a cunning leer. 
 
 " That is Lincoln's valet, I tell you !" 
 " Well, and is not Lincoln to marry my sister ?" 
 — he pronounced it thisther — " and shall I not pink 
 his knave in my own house, and he my own 
 brother-in-law ? who will prevent me ?" roars out 
 Lempster with desperate distinctness^ considering 
 his lisp.
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 257 
 
 " What call have yon to interfere between mem- 
 bers of the same family ? I say Lincoln must pay 
 my loss to Dickey Thornton, on account of his fel- 
 low, or he shan t have Sophia, so that's all about it," 
 added Lempster, staring in a wondering way at the 
 faces which kept crowding in the doorway. *' If he 
 likes to square up with the squire, then he must 
 come and shake hands on it like a man. Huff! 
 My mother ! " catching sight of a marble face in 
 the doorway. He made two quick, ineffectual 
 passes to get his sword into the scabbard, then 
 turned on his rickety heels, and was hustled off 
 through the opposite door towards the servants* 
 hall. 
 
 " That part of the performance was not in the 
 play-bill possibly," said Mrs. Commyns of Eosslyn 
 to Mrs. Lomax from behind her fan, as the two 
 ladies went up to dress for dinner immediately 
 afterwards, while every person was talking, or 
 thinking of the awkward scene. 
 
 " Fearful ! I cannot jest about it ; I regret 
 so much having ever come to this house, on 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 account of the girls," said Mrs. Lomax. " There is 
 such an air of duplicity about the whole set here. 
 I don't feel 'tis a respectable house at all ; the 
 shock of this dreadful affair is too much for me." 
 
 ^* Duplicity ! Surely nothing could surpass the 
 candour of my Lord Lempster in every particular ; 
 that was altogether charming, Mrs, Lomax." 
 
 " Such a man ! on the high road to perdition. 
 He has it in his expression. Did you observe 
 his face?" 
 
 " Did you observe his mother s face ? that was 
 best worth looking at, when he made the disclosure 
 about Lord Lincoln and the family hopes," said 
 Mrs. Commyns ; ^' blurting it out before everybody 
 too : even Mr. Montagu did not know how to hold 
 himself. I really pitied Lady Pomfret then." 
 
 " She deserves no pity ; 'tis shameful the way they 
 have hunted my Lord Lincoln, both the mother 
 and daughter, the whole set of them. I should not 
 so demean myself, nor have one of my girls spoken 
 of in that way for all the dukes in England. I 
 think she deserves exposure."
 
 A Vision of Bliss. 259 
 
 " And I, though 1 doubt if she commands it, 
 that she deserves success, if only for her courage 
 and perseverance," laughed Mrs. Commyns. *' Aye 
 and for her skill; but that v^ill be taxed to get out 
 of this affair. I wonder how Lincohi will take it, 
 when he hears ; but he seems very much in love. 
 See ; very much in love," and she stood at the 
 lobby window pointing as Lord Lincohi and Lady 
 Sophia entered tlie house from the garden. He had 
 a flurried look ; it might have been from mental 
 excitement, or from physical heat, or from a con- 
 sciousness of having presently to meet a crowd of 
 inquiring eyes ; but Lincoln's was not a very 
 expressive face, and any emotion that stirred him 
 usually produced only the same flush in his 
 colour and awkwardness in his attitude. Mrs. 
 Commyns, peering through the window, decided 
 that the something in Lady Sophia's face meant 
 '' consciousness," and so she translated it. 
 
 " It is all right ; she has him at last," the lady 
 exclaimed, brightening up at the envy which 
 twinkled in the black eyes staring above her 
 
 s 2
 
 i6o A Chronicle of the Fennors. 
 
 shoulder. " She has drawn her prize, and Lord 
 Lempster was in the right to plead the privilege 
 of brother-in-lawhood to amuse himself with 
 Lord Lincoln's Frenchman — it is a family affair 
 now — there will be no scandaL The coup has 
 succeeded, and the lookers-on may all go about 
 their business; the curtain has but to fall; the 
 lights will be snuffed out j)resently ; we have but 
 to order our coaches and depart. The performance 
 at Kaston Neston is over for the season."
 
 ( ^6i ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI Y. 
 
 A GOOD SAMARITAN. 
 
 How Lady Pomfret ever got safe away to the 
 sanctuary of her chamber is a mystery ; what 
 countenance she bore when running the gauntlet of 
 those friendly eyes which had witnessed the scandal 
 may be imagined. But when the door had closed she 
 fairly broke down in tears. She was not of the 
 weeping order, with her tears were a rare indul- 
 gence, but it relieved her head, and helped her to 
 revive from the first dazed sensation of helpless im- 
 becility, which was the immediate effect of the 
 shock. Her son had swept away that fine network of 
 policy which she had been at such pains to weave. 
 One swoop and all was gone ! It was maddening 
 to survey the mischief, to think that in a drunken 
 freak a reckless sot should have done so much evil ;
 
 262 A Chronicle of the Fennors. 
 
 people would talk about tlie affair, and, embellished 
 and exaggerated, it would finally come to Lincoln's 
 ears. Oh ! she could have stabbed liim, Lempster, 
 not Lincohi, on the spot. 
 
 But, the first excitement over, Lady Pomfret 
 imagined that something might be attempted to 
 mitigate the evil effect of this accident, and the 
 consciousness of possibly being able to remedy the 
 mishap immediately restored her to her faculties, 
 and subdued her temper. She touched her bell, and 
 Mrs. Rogers, the housekeeper, arrived trembling 
 after the former scene, but the Countess had re- 
 covered her ordinary tone of familiarity and con-, 
 fidence^ and Mrs. Rogers was received with kind- 
 ness. " She must be aware of what has happened 
 downstairs." The Countess introduced the subject 
 point-blank. " Lord Lempster and his friends had 
 been refreshing themselves, and had, perhaps, 
 taken too much wine, as young men will ; the heat 
 of the day was chiefly to blame for it ; there had 
 been a frolic and a servant was, unfortunately, hurt 
 — a Frenchman, she believed. Mrs. Rogers had
 
 A Good Samaritan. 263 
 
 better have this man up to her rooms, and see 
 that he had every attention. It was important to 
 keep him away from the servants, and very essen- 
 tial to keep tongues quiet. As well send for the 
 village doctor immediately. Meanwhile, she would 
 come herself after dinner and judge of the ser- 
 vant's state ; she confided everything to the skill 
 and discretion of Mrs. Rogers ;" who went away 
 with a perfect understanding of the state of affairs, 
 and a determination to apply a poultice to the 
 vanity, as well as to the wounds, of the injured 
 lackey, and to stop his mouth, if any recipe in 
 the still-room could be found to do it with. 
 
 Then the dinner table was to be faced, and there 
 was, fortunately, just time enough to dress for 
 the ordeal of being stared at. Dinner was not 
 yet the cumbrous proceeding of modern times, 
 and being frequently followed by open air ex- 
 ercise, elaborate evening costumes were reserved 
 for rare and state occasions. 
 
 But the Countess decided that her toilet should 
 be complete and splendid.
 
 264 A Chronicle of the Fermors.. 
 
 So waiting-women were summoned, costly silks 
 and laces selected. The jewel casket was un- 
 locked, the amethyst suit which Lady Sophia 
 sometimes wore. Diamonds! she paused at 
 diamonds ; but, no matter if over-dressed ; it 
 was not a mere question of correct taste now ; 
 but it was all-important to flaunt hardily into 
 the gaze of her enemy, the world, and not to 
 appear to crouch before its sneers. 
 
 So the Countess clasped on her bracelets as a 
 knight would his gauntlets, mounted her bravest 
 ornaments as a general going into action would his 
 state uniform, his medals and orders. She was 
 going into action. There was the smiling Mrs. 
 Commyns, that jealous hypocritical Mrs. Lomax, 
 Montagu, and the rest of them to be faced. These 
 were to be encountered at the bayonet's point, and 
 her heart did not waver at the prospect of battle, 
 but, when fully accoutred, she gave a scream — the 
 mirror revealed all that she had suffered — the 
 ghost which appeared there frightened her ; that 
 face with its hollowness and pallor, the weary ex-
 
 A Good Samaritan, 265 
 
 pression ! Defeat and cowardice lay in that pale 
 reflection, her good looks had already taken flight ; 
 but there was a certain remedy for this. She 
 quickly unlocked the private cabinet, that wherein 
 the flask lay, and took out various dyes and 
 brushes and tinctures. Rouge, that a skilful 
 Italian artist only had the secret of. She undid 
 the cunningly-sealed jar and proceeded to lay the 
 war paint on, staring hard to bring the spirit 
 back into those betraying eyes. 
 
 A happy and brilliant hostess appeared pre- 
 sently in the dining-room. Mrs. Commyns stared ; 
 the diamonds and brocade took her breath away ; 
 while Mrs. Lomax turned her modest eyes aside 
 from those purple eyelashes and crimsoned cheeks 
 — then she said : 
 
 " This is by way of putting us down ; it makes 
 me ashamed before all these men ; I hardly dare to 
 turn that way ; it is sad, it is very barefaced," 
 venturing another look. 
 
 ^' And very bare-shouldered also, a woman of 
 her years," responded Mrs. Commyns, waving her
 
 266 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 fan ; "- the idea of putting well-bred people down 
 with a faded blue satin that won't meet at the 
 back, not by half an inch at the bottom laces ; you 
 can see when she turns round to Dr. Hatherly." 
 
 " Sky blue, and turning green at the edges and 
 eyelet holes," said Mrs. Lomax. " I remember that 
 old satin perfectly well. Oh, a sad worldly 
 mind!" 
 
 The daughter has already conveyed tidings of 
 the affair. She must have done so ; no doubt she 
 has had her offer ; that is what sets her up in 
 such feather. 
 
 " She hasn't any sense of the higher duties ; 
 more shame for her," whispered Mrs. Lomax. 
 " Pray attend to her conversation ; listen how 
 irreverent, how flippant ! Such curtness, and with 
 one's parish pastor in one's own house too ; what 
 an example to one's children !" 
 
 " And she has apparently added theology to the 
 list of her attainments besides : that comes, I 
 suppose, of outlandish fashions and residence in 
 Popish countries," said Mrs. Commyns, who had
 
 A Good Samaritan. 267 
 
 been for three years trying to wheedle Commyns 
 into making the grand tour. 
 
 " Such an example of a wife and mother, 'tis 
 simply dreadful to listen to her !" Mrs. Lomax 
 shuddered. " It would be a relief to me if Letitia 
 were but out of earshot. Letitia is so readily 
 scandalised by the introduction of sacred subjects 
 in profane language." 
 
 This remark was provoked by a few sentences 
 which passed between the rector and the Countess, 
 for since entering the room Lady Pomfret had gone 
 on tilting point-blank against a variety of subjects 
 in succession, and in a manner which might be 
 best described as reckless and rattling; she was 
 struggling all the time against a consciousness of 
 failure in the attempt to appear indifferent, and at 
 ease. 
 
 From one topic to the other she went in a 
 bounding way, skimming along by mere force of 
 inward heat. It was not easy to sustain things at 
 such a rate of volubility, considering the flimsy 
 texture of the conversational material to hand ; but
 
 268 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 it was easier to talk than not, under the staring 
 eyes of these two horrible women. 
 
 Proceeding in this strain, she found herself 
 presently in the embrasure of the larger window 
 declaiming, in a grand doctrinal, but vehemently 
 at-random tone, on some point of the doctrine of 
 futurity. Dr. Hatherly, the village rector, was 
 the immediate listener. Anything for a subject. 
 The immortality of the soul was at this moment 
 one for which she cared as little as for the 
 mortality of the guinea fowl^ but she was running 
 bare of material, and fell into theological loftiness, 
 out of sheer poverty of invention, to the solid 
 dismay of the subservient and not brilliant nor 
 learned rector, who had not calculated on being 
 driven into the profundities of a bottomless sub- 
 ject by such a person as his hostess, before an 
 audience of quizzing gentility with appetites for 
 dinner. In truth, it was a high honour for him to 
 be given a place among such an array of guests 
 at all, and he was very much on his good be- 
 haviour, and sensibly discomforted at finding
 
 A Good Samaritan. 269 
 
 himself driven into talking, or rather answering, 
 shop^ for the good man did no more than follow 
 her Ladyship's lead, and that at a halting monosyl- 
 labic pace, under a crushing sensation of neither 
 shining nor edifying. 
 
 '' I met a cardinal at Rome," Lady Pomfret began 
 afresh, taking up one of the myriad threads of the 
 very ravelled subject. " A very clever man, and 
 learned, though his views were essentially popish, 
 who held that one might encourage and cultivate a 
 consciousness of spiritual responsibility in oneself, 
 exactly as any sensible sense, like that of colour, say. 
 Some people have no sensations about colour, not 
 naturally, unless they develop them by education. 
 If you had read the lives of the painters, or walked 
 the galleries of Italy, you would understand how 
 true this is in regard to art. And art, after all, is 
 everything — for some people it is a religion ; but 
 you have not been much abroad. Doctor ; what I 
 intend to say is, that if the sense of responsibility, 
 which, I suppose, is conscience, be a mere sensation, 
 like any other that one may encourage or not,
 
 270 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 then we are free to let it alone if we please ; and 
 that brings me back indirectly to the point I 
 started from, that one is free to have a conscience 
 or not. If conscience be a thing which is to be 
 encouraged or trained like the muscles of the 
 body, brought to perfection by exercise^ are there 
 then such things as gymnastics of the soul ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lomax rested her eyes on the ceiling in 
 a glimmering way. 
 
 " The Fathers have very decided views on that 
 point," said the rector in a shuffling accent, 
 conscious that Montagu, lolling within earshot 
 on a tabouret behind the elder Miss Lomax, had 
 his eyeglass raised ; ** I think we must accept the 
 views of the Fathers, and need not trouble our- 
 selves any further." 
 
 '-' But without taking any trouble to cultivate 
 a conscience, may a person get to heaven without 
 one? — that's what I want to get at," said Lady 
 Pomfret. " It would be so much easier to let things 
 be, without any trouble ; may one go there with- 
 out gymnastics, suppose ?"
 
 rl Good Samarita7i. 
 
 271 
 
 " How can your ladyship ask, when one sees 
 people going tliere every day in an easy amble 
 — fat elderly people afflicted with spiritual asthma, 
 who could not take any short cuts even if they 
 were necessary," said Montagu, "and who proceed 
 agreeably enough, or at least without any visible 
 trouble from conscience or interior misgivings of 
 any kind." 
 
 " Of course good people will go to heaven," said 
 the rector, feeling that he was so far sound. 
 
 "Good every-day people, those one meets at 
 dinner, not saints in hair shirts," said Montagu ; 
 " honest folk who quarrel with the sherry, and 
 snooze at sermons, and take short turns on their 
 neighbours, and don't love them any more than 
 they do their enemies ; and we should be much 
 surprised if they did. 'T would be horrible to 
 think that such people are going anywhere but to 
 heaven, and if anywhere else — where to, Doctor ?" 
 
 " You should read Eourdaloue, sir, allow me 
 to suggest ; in my student days, I went through a 
 course. Bourdaloue ! I may say I sucked him in
 
 272 A Chronicle 0/ the Fer mors. 
 
 with my mother's milk in large doses ; he fortifies 
 one spiritually — a most excellent tonic ; I make it 
 a rule to recommend Bourdaloue in cases of 
 interior conflict." 
 
 " The upshot is," said Lady Pomfret, *' that a 
 conscience is a luxury of the sesthetic kind, very 
 pretty and pleasant and refined, and so forth, but 
 no more a necessity of life than music or 
 painting is — nor so much so, in fact," 
 
 " Servants should have consciences, though," 
 added Montagu, ^' or they will borrow your 
 clothes, and steal, and make life miserable ; the 
 meaner sorts of people should be encouraged to 
 develop a sense of responsibility, or we never 
 would have dinner served in time ;" and he 
 glanced across the simpering imbecility of the 
 pretty Miss Lomax beside him to the Louis XIY. 
 clock on the mantelpiece, where a china Cupid 
 with a pallet and maul-stick indicated that the 
 hand had crossed the hour ten minutes since. 
 
 " Quite true, quite true," said Lord Pomfret 
 aloud, in a responsive tone, from the hearth-rug.
 
 A Good Samarita7i. 273 
 
 catching up the remark ; " the dinner hour is sacred ; 
 there should be punctuality, but it is all Lempster's 
 fault, always the way ; one always waits for him, 
 he takes such a long time getting up his hair. In 
 my day young men were less foppish. They were 
 more for learning and parts than at present, and 
 English tailors were good enough for us in our 
 day — eh, Commyns — but now unless a thing comes 
 from Paris it's nothing. Everything Frenchified 
 and womanish." 
 
 " Well, I don't come from Paris, and I con- 
 sider myself something neither Frenchified nor 
 womanish," said Mr. Commyns huskily, a florid 
 substantial man, with a full chest and throat, and 
 so red in the face that he looked throttled in his 
 tight clothes. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! you are English to the backbone, no 
 mistake about it, and you have always lived on 
 your estate, that is why everything is in such order 
 at Curraglass. You are right, quite right, but 
 you should have woodcocks at Curraglass, by-the- 
 way, shouldn't you/' inquired his Lordship, " in 
 
 VOL. I. J^
 
 274 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 those larch screens by the river ? Now I never find 
 myself riding in that direction, but 1 say, well, if 
 any man in the country has woodcocks, Commyns 
 ought. A great comfort a shot at a cock with your 
 own people without any state or fuss, when a man 
 lives on his own estate, but there are difficulties 
 sometimes, peculiarities in the lie of the ground. 
 Now anybody can have pheasants ; but wild game 
 is disappearing from this end of the county, I'm 
 sorry to say. I protest, if Lempster does not 
 appear, I shall send up for him, he won't like that; 
 he chooses to liave his own way. Young men do, 
 they are so inde23endent now, Commyns ; but you 
 don't know, you know nothing about it from 
 experience, not having children ; I forgot that." 
 Mr. Commyns squirms uneasily ; this is a sore 
 subject, and, with characteristic tact, my Lord 
 fastens on it, as if on purpose. 
 
 " Ah ! I had forgot — true ; but you are a lucky 
 fellow, you keep tinkering up your place, nothing 
 else to spend your money on. I wish I could take 
 a leaf out of your book ; that my lady were content
 
 A Good Samaritan. 275 
 
 to stop here for awhile, arid not go capering away 
 to town and elsewhere ; we have had enough of it 
 for my taste ; but when a man has married a clever 
 woman he must pay the penalty, that's where it is. 
 If my wife were not a genius now, then it would 
 be different, we would have a quieter life of it. 
 You have no idea of the time I spent abroad going 
 hither and thither improving our minds and one 
 thing or other ; but 'tis a great trial to a woman ot 
 genius to live in the country, and the longer I live, 
 the more I see the necessity of being ruled by one's 
 wife, especially when she's clever ; so I always 
 give way, 'tis the best plan ; better for both of us 
 to do so ; though I would have got on well enough, 
 I daresay, with any sort of woman, an ordinary 
 sort, even, with one that let me have a way of my 
 own sometimes, and was not a genius, for my 
 name is Easy," said my Earl, '' my name is Easy, 
 Commyns." 
 
 '' But you have been so much abroad now, that 
 even for sake of variety you might rest awhile 
 in the country," observed Mr. Commyns moodily. 
 
 r 2
 
 276 A Chronicle of the Fer mors. 
 
 *' Exactly as I say, but she won't hear of it ; and 
 what are you to do ? hush ! she might overhear ; 
 and I always give way, I make it a point to yield ; 
 'tis on that account, I may say, that ever since we 
 were married — my wife and I — we never have had 
 a word of difference ; 'tis a principle with me not 
 to differ, it maintains peace, especially when there 
 is a family. But you have no children, I always 
 forget that ; sometimes a great comfort to a man to 
 be without them ; often a good deal of uncertainty 
 about children — how they may turn out, and that 
 sort of thing. You are better off than you fancy, 
 Commyns — far better off." 
 
 " Im content with my lot. You never hear me 
 coniiJain," growled Mr. Commyns. 
 
 ''As a rule^I should say a great comfort not to 
 have any children ; I don't sa}^ so myself, for I 
 am differently placed; being so lucky, my lady 
 being such a clever woman, she takes all the 
 bother off my hands ; but every man is not so 
 fortunate in a wife. Generally speaking, how- 
 ever, children are in one's way — there is Lempster>
 
 A Good Samaritan. 
 
 277 
 
 for instance, no getting him to observe punctuality, 
 even for dinner. No getting him; he is never 
 in time at table. I really think we had better 
 not wait for him any longer, Harry, my love," 
 said his Lordship, making a pace forward to- 
 wards the window with a watch in his hand. 
 '* Young Thornton, too, where is he? they are 
 always together. What can Lempster be about ? 
 Curling his hair, humph ! and we half famished, 
 Commyns and I. Oh, I beg pardon, my love, I 
 meant nothing, only we are all ready for table 
 long ago. Waiting on Lempster s account, it is 
 very provoking." 
 
 *' But Lord Lincoln has not yet appeared ; we are 
 waiting for him also," interposed George Montagu, 
 with rare good-nature. 
 
 " Eh, Lincoln ! oh ay ! I^incoln, to be sure, I did 
 not notice that. Lempster is so often the one in 
 fault that I had not thought of anybody else ; 
 naturally it's out of the question going to dinner 
 without him ; we wait for Lord Lincoln as a 
 matter of course ;" and Lord Pom fret fumbles a
 
 278 A Chronicle of the Fernwrs. 
 
 rapid retreat back to the territory of the hearth- 
 rug, tangling in an awkward chair and puzzled in 
 his soul at the scowl which came to him from the 
 varnished eyebrows of his wife. He was aware 
 of a talent for impromptu blunderings, and 
 was indefinitely conscious of having now put 
 his foot somewhere in the wrong place. It was 
 odd that a man so well disposed to obey the 
 conjugal helm as he was should invariably steer 
 badly. 
 
 Greorge Montagu was making a mental note 
 to remember to send the history of the day's 
 events in his letter to Horace Walpole, when the 
 Countess stood up with a pouting face. She 
 was annoyed that Montagu should have come, 
 as it were, to her assistance ; being in humour to 
 strike out at everybody, friend and foe were alike 
 to her then ; as she continued conversing with 
 the parson, her eyes maintained the same searching 
 attitude, shifting from Montagu to Mrs. Commyns 
 in a staring, bellicose way. 
 
 Montagu was provoked at her attitude.
 
 A Good Samarita7i. 
 
 279 
 
 " Is my Lord Lincoln always en retard f An 
 unhappy peculiarity for those who love him, I 
 imagine," he said, addressing Mrs. Commyns. 
 
 A loud " hush !" and visions of the matron's 
 substantial dimples came flickering through tlie 
 rapid movements of her fan ; she was trying to 
 look as if trying not to laugh outright. 
 
 But Lady Pomfret was not to be provoked by 
 clumsy impertinence, and with an air of affected 
 absence, continued the dialogue with the rector. 
 
 '^ It is such a fatal mistake for a preacher to 
 suffer sallies of wit to trickle into his sermon," she 
 said, again catching up the subject. " You are 
 aware of Dr. Swift's opinion on the point ? and the 
 Doctor gives his reasons for it : first, he says a 
 clergyman should not be smart in the pulpit, 
 because the chances are a million to one that he 
 hasn't any wit — " Lady Pomfret paused : Montagu 
 and Mrs. Commyns were still whispering in a 
 quizzing, underbred way. "What a pity, now, 
 Mr. Montagu did not enter the Church," she 
 added, tartly ; " he would have made a figure with
 
 a8o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 his wit there ; he has already almost enough to 
 acquire a reputation as a private gentleman : if he 
 had only carried his parts into a cassock, Mr. 
 Montagu's wit might have made a bishop of him." 
 ** I don't think it is much of a qualification for 
 the sacred Bench ; I wonder your Ladyship thinks 
 so," gasps the rector, bluntly not seeing at all 
 where he was. 
 
 *' The worst of having wit is the temptation to 
 show it off, and Mr. Montagu does not always 
 overcome the temptation," said Mrs. Commyns, with 
 a clumsy archness. " After all, wit is the beauty 
 of the mind, and, like a beautiful face^ should 
 be exhibited to view as much as possible. But, 
 talking of views, what a sunset ! what a view from 
 where I sit ; the most charming picture !" added 
 Mrs. Commyns, straining to see beside or above 
 the figure of her hostess, which intercepted the 
 prospect. " Though I have always been against 
 western aspects, on account of the evening glare, 
 yet this is magnificent, and this window is 
 exquisitely j)laced. We have no sunsets like this
 
 A Good Samaritan. 281 
 
 at Curraglass, the hill comes exactly in the way 
 for us. Now, Mr. Montagu, do bridle your wit 
 and let me enjoy this view at ease ; it will be 
 gone in a moment, while your remarks will keep ; 
 you keep one so on the rack, following your 
 sallies." 
 
 " You are very kind to admire it, but we have 
 no landscape here to compare with the park at 
 Curraglass," said Lady Pomfret grimly. *' It must 
 be a paradise there after all your recent improve- 
 ments ; your own taste, I daresay, not having the 
 duties of a family to distract you ; you have abun- 
 dant leisure. Then you have mountains, too — a 
 great, advantage, a great boon to have mountains ; 
 and we are so flat — plenty of green here, but no 
 blues and purples. One can't have blues without 
 mountains, no atmospheric effects ; my early artistic 
 education has spoiled me for commonplace scenery ; 
 I am hlase on trees, so much of them everywhere ; 
 but atmosphere — breadth. You understand ? Mr. 
 Montagu, I daresay, understands what I mean by 
 breadth."
 
 252 
 
 A Chronicle of the Ferniors. 
 
 ^'I thought the view by the river charming 
 to-day, however,'* said Mrs. Commyns tartly ; 
 *' though, not being an artist, I daresay I did not 
 understand it; it looked charming, however; but 
 all your clever people are often hard to please, and 
 always hard to be understood." 
 
 "Is this another of the clever people who are 
 difficult to please or to be understood T asked 
 Montagu, with a sufficiently impertinent simper. 
 As he spoke a rustling by the door, and Lord 
 Lincoln entered, striding directly across the room to 
 the Countess, apologizing for his lateness in quick 
 spasmodic sentences, and gesticulating in a way 
 not usual to him. It might have been the flurry 
 of a man who had kept people waiting dinner, 
 and the Countess answered by chiding him 
 playfully, leaving the flurry to be accounted 
 for in that way. Dr. Hatherly gave a gasp of 
 relief at the interlude, and profited by it to make 
 his escape from the vicinity of the Countess to 
 that of Mrs. Lomax, whom he had been appointed 
 to take down to dinner. Mr. Commyns, in re-
 
 A Good Samaritan. 283 
 
 sponse to the movement, crossed in a plunging way 
 through the loungers and rickety rococo stands 
 and ornaments to where Harriet Montagu sat, his 
 appointed prize. This gave an impulse for more 
 rising and movement ; George Montagu stood 
 puzzled between the twin Misses Lomax. Lady 
 Pomfret caught a signal from the footman standing 
 by the door, which suddenly flew back on both 
 wings. 
 
 *' What, Lempster left in the lurch after all ! I 
 am very glad of it, serves him out," exclaimed Lord 
 Pomfret, rushing at the last moment to bow to the 
 wrong lady, as was his invariable habit, and dis- 
 covering his mistake, cutting his bow in the middle, 
 and with a rapid wheel oifering his arm to the 
 right lady, who rose very slowly, her silk skirts 
 giving out a grim rustle of offence — and dinner 
 was announced. 
 
 When the business of dinner had set in, the 
 Countess had leisure to look around and relax the 
 forced manner and tension of effort ; she could 
 afford to remain silent now, and wanted to look
 
 284 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 into the faces of ber daughter and Lord Lincoln 
 without having to guard against the prying 
 criticism of other eyes ; but she was perplexed to 
 find that both the objects of her interest were 
 placed on her own side of the table, perversely out 
 of the range of vision. She could make nothing 
 out of tantalising glimpses in mere profile ; when 
 suddenly Lord Lincoln set her in a flutter of 
 anxiety and perplexity by inquiring aloud if any 
 one had letters or commissions for town, as he 
 intended leaving for London in the morning ; he 
 should quit the house at daybreak, rest during the 
 heat of the day, and travel on all night. 
 
 This in the most indifferent tone ; then, by 
 way of explanation, he added, that letters had 
 reached him in the afternoon, which made an 
 immediate departure imperative. 
 
 During the various exclamations and polite 
 requests provoked by this announcement. Lady 
 Sophia never stirred. At that critical moment 
 her face was bent in apjoarent occupation with 
 her plate, but it was a happy and a radiant
 
 A Good Samaritan, 285 
 
 face. Her mother obtained just one glimpse, 
 and was reassured. It had come at last then, 
 the Countess decided, the happy event so long- 
 prayed for and expected. He had taken the 
 final step, and was going away to make the 
 announcement to his relatives in form. How 
 the old tiger uncle Newcastle would fume, and 
 the whole gang of Pelham conspirators despair, 
 when they heard of this summer's morning work 
 at Easton Neston ! 
 
 The present joy of this revelation extinguished 
 the worry of previous anxieties ; at first it was so, 
 but there was a make-weight following it in 
 another mortification, as an evening drive had 
 been arranged for the ladies, and Lady Pom fret 
 had to form a third in the chaise with Mrs. 
 Commyns and Mrs. Lomax, instead of having 
 Lady Sophia all to herself upstairs and coaxing 
 out the whole happy news in every detail before 
 bedtime. But it came to the same thing in the 
 end, as Lord Lincoln and Lady Sophia did not 
 appear in the drawing-room after dinner, but,
 
 286 A Chronicle of the Ferniors. 
 
 slipping out to tlie shrubbery as tbe company 
 went upstairs, arranged to have this last evening 
 quite to themselves. It was only natural after 
 what had happened. Oh, the Countess was a 
 happy mother ! 
 
 The evening was radiant and calm ; even the 
 orange gardens of the Ridolfi never gave out such 
 odours as these English bowers ; woodbine, thyme 
 and roses distilled by the departed heat filled the 
 garden. Winged insects swam honey-surfeited 
 through the tawny twilight and came booming 
 down into the grass drunk with scents. By the old 
 garden wall the perfume of the night-scented stock 
 loaded the a^r ; and as the lovers passed into that 
 leafiest corner of the garden, a pair of wood-doves 
 which had rendezvous there burst from the laurels. 
 
 The glare of a dying sunset was yet in the 
 heavens, but ere the wanderers returned to the 
 house the white moonlight had begun to trickle 
 down through the silent leaves. Still on the 
 terrace there was something more to be said, 
 and eavesdropping housemaids told afterwards
 
 A Good Samaritan. 287 
 
 liow my Lord had taken my Lady Sophia by the 
 hand, and retained his prize during the final tour 
 on the terrace, and as they parted had plucked a 
 clematis blossom from the pedestal of Psyche's 
 statue by the fountain, and that she had pinned it 
 in her bosom, and worn it later on, before them 
 all, at the faro-table. The busy Lady Pomfret 
 was not at her place at the card-table that 
 night when the lovers reappeared. She had again 
 been called on to perform efficient service in 
 another quarter. Lord Lincoln's intention of 
 departure caused her to reflect on the mishap to 
 his valet, and brought a return of anxiety regard- 
 ing its consequences. How if the man was hurt 
 and could not quit the house with his master ? — 
 then the whole story must come out. 
 
 If Lempster had only preserved decent behaviour 
 for another day, what a happy woman she might 
 have been that night ! but as things were she 
 was miserably anxious. Then she reflected that 
 even if her son had murdered the Frenchman on 
 the spot it could not interfere with Lady Sophia's
 
 288 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 prospects, now that Lord Lincoln had committed 
 himself by a direct avowal. There was deep 
 consolation in that, so she sailed away to the 
 housekeeper's quarters in a good Samaritan frame 
 of mind, intending to bind np the wounds of the 
 outraged valet, and seal up his tongue likewise, if 
 any efficient recipe in the family medicine chest 
 could be found to stop his mouth with. 
 
 Happily, the valet turned out to be more fright- 
 ened than hurt — a mere scrape on the wrist ; and 
 the village practitioner having prescribed sticking- 
 plaster and a bandage, had his supper in the 
 housekeeper's room and disappeared. 
 
 Monsieur Alphonse had been in many a scrape 
 before, but never so lucky a one as that which 
 Lord Lempster's steel had given him. He lay 
 upon the sofa in Mrs. Rogers' parlour with his 
 arm in a sling, and every delicacy that the house 
 afforded, on a dumb waiter ready to his hand — 
 his other hand — the doctor had not barred stimu- 
 lants, and a flask of champagne simmered at 
 his elbow. Under the influence of this gentle
 
 A Good Samaritan, 289 
 
 treatment^ the ferocity of his Gallic nature began 
 gradually to decline from its first fervour. At 
 the outset, when his scattered sense had recovered 
 sufficiently for words, his threats of vengeance 
 were atrocious. " Mi Lord Lempstere was to hang 
 at Tyburn for the outrage. He would claim 
 justice of the law, and milord, son maitre^ would 
 see that it was relentlessly administered. The 
 sang franqais in his veins had been spilt by a brutal. 
 It cried to heaven and to la France for vengeance. 
 If the court of law did not hang milord Lempstere 
 he would appeal to Son Excellence I'ambassadeur 
 Monsieur Le Comte de Nouailles, and a war between 
 the two countries would in all likelihood follow." 
 
 At this stage the Countess entered and dismissed 
 Rogers. In spite of his bleeding grievance, 
 Alphonse was disconcerted and slightly over- 
 powered at the unforeseen honour of this visit. 
 He would have risen to receive milady, but 
 prompt as thought her jewelled arm was extended 
 to prevent him. *' He must not stir, though 
 looking, heaven be praised ! better than she had 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 hoped. She could not rest until satisfied in 
 person that it was nothing serious. Such a 
 shocking affair ! Her son had forgot himself, 
 and to-morrow, when reason returned, would be 
 the first to deplore the unhappy occurrence. It 
 was all that odious Mr. Thornton, a mauvais 
 mjet, who had induced him to drink. After all, 
 young men will be wild sometimes. You must 
 understand that, being a young man yourself. 
 Monsieur Alphonse" — she purred (he was forty- 
 five) — " you will understand that excesses will 
 break out sometimes ; and, however deplorable, in 
 fact do not always point to badness of the heart. 
 Poor Lempster ! he has a good heart at bottom, but 
 a bad head, and company always leads him astray. 
 Can you forgive. Monsieur Alphonse ? can you, for 
 my sake, suppose that this miserable affair has 
 never taken place ? I throw myself on your com- 
 passion — a mother pleading for an erring son ; you 
 are a man of feeling and of sentiment like all of 
 your gallant nation ; you will understand my 
 solicitude."
 
 A Good Samaritan, 291 
 
 " Ah, madame, miladi, vous me comblez " — 
 Alphonse could not proceed beyond the ejaculatory 
 stage. " She spoke to me like a dear friend — like 
 my own sainted mother/' he said afterwards, when 
 narrating the scene to Mr. Screw, the Duke of 
 Newcastle's man, who jeered at the tender-hearted 
 and sympathetic Frenchman. 
 
 But an inconceivable occurrence followed : 
 Alphonse had had many successes among the sex, 
 both in his own and our foreign land, but never 
 anything to compare with this. His fine eyes 
 shone with vanity and amazement as the Countess 
 produced a small mother-of-pearl case, and touching 
 a spring, the open lid disclosed a small diamond 
 pin, such as a gentleman might wear in his jabot 
 — a neglected trinket which she had borrowed from 
 "my Earl's" dressing-case. "I am determined," 
 she said, " that as a set-off to the outrage of which 
 you have been the victim you shall at least bear 
 away from Easton Neston one slight token of 
 the esteem and gratitude of its mistress — grati- 
 tude for the silence which I expect you to 
 
 u 2
 
 292 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 maintain on the unfortunate occurrence of this 
 morning. 
 
 " The trinket is prettily set, you will observe ; 
 such workmanship as only the jewellers of your 
 nation can accomplish ; and the diamond is the 
 finest water. When you wear it let it be a sou- 
 venir of the pledge which I expect you to make 
 me now that the secret of this unhappy scandal 
 shall never pass the loyal bosom which this dia- 
 mond adorns." 
 
 Alphonse was overcome ; it was not in bis 
 sensitive and fervid nature to resist an appeal 
 coming in such form from a lady, and a lady of 
 rank, and he pledged himself. Didn't he swear in 
 the expressive language of his country and kind 
 to comply with her gracious desires ? He had no 
 longer any memory of the affair, nor was it in the 
 power of his tongue to shape words which might 
 disclose it to mortal ears, nor in any part of his 
 nature to do anything whatever which might give 
 one moment's annoyance to Miladi La Comtesse. 
 
 And Alphonse was sincere in his promises ;
 
 A Good Samaritan. 293 
 
 he was of as average a truthfulness, perhaps, 
 as any member of his profession ; but the inherent 
 boastfulness of his disposition often betrayed 
 liim into regretable indiscretions. He would 
 imdoubtedly have kept his word with her Lady- 
 ship if the artful Screw had not crossed his path 
 to beguile him from the 'strict path of virtue and 
 truthfulness, and that speedily. 
 
 It was only a few days later on, after returning 
 to town, that it occurred. Alphonse had mounted 
 his fine diamond to dazzle the Duke's man, and 
 Mr. Screw had acknowledged the compliment by 
 pooh-poohing at the pin, declaring in his off- 
 hand grand way that 'twas mere pretence, only a 
 trumpery paste affair unworthy to glimmer on 
 any gentleman's bosom. 
 
 Alphonse was naturally hurt ; first, that a man 
 of Mr. Screw's consequence should think him 
 capable of wearing paste, next at the staring un- 
 truthfulness of the statement itself. It was more 
 than the average Frenchman could endure — a 
 jewel presented by a Countess out of pure regard
 
 294 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 to be so disparaged. So he flared up, and words 
 rose between them ; but Screw would not bate 
 a jot of his arrogance and conceit until Alphonse 
 was obliged to knock both down flat by a detailed 
 statement of the whole affair at Easton Neston 
 from beginning to end ; but under the strictest 
 pledge of secresy. You should have seen Screw's 
 face then when in possession of the merits of 
 the story, how crest-fallen he looked, how humbly 
 he admitted his error and apologised for his 
 ignorant and disparaging criticisms. Yet his 
 sharp eyes glistened as he examined the diamond, 
 while ardently assuring Alphonse that the precious 
 secret was safe in his custody ; that his word of 
 honour was as clear and genuine as the jewel 
 itself; and the confiding Parisian believed him — 
 yet Screw turned out a monster of perfidy, as we 
 shall presently discover.
 
 ( 295 ) 
 
 CHAPTER Xy. 
 
 A DISCLOSURE. 
 
 It required some self-denial on the part of the 
 Countess to abstain from entering her daughter's 
 room that night when the guests had retired. 
 She had hoped to obtain a history of the events 
 of the day from her own lips. Lady Sophia had 
 disappeared with the first departures from the 
 drawing-room, and her mother sat alone in her 
 dressing-room expecting her tap at the door, but 
 the hours drew on, and the pleasure of it was to 
 be deferred to the morning. 
 
 The pleasure of an avowal from her daughter's 
 own lips that is ; so far it was an unmixed joy ; but 
 as for the engagement to Lord Lincoln, oddly 
 enough, now that attainment of her dream was 
 apparently reached, the elation of her spirits was
 
 296 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 merely moderate. She was not conscious of a suffi- 
 cient interior buoyancy to match with the splen- 
 dour of the event. There was a perceptible blank- 
 ness, as inexplicable to herself as unaccountable by 
 exterior causes ; a strange indifference incompatible 
 with the conviction of possession. The complex 
 incidents of the past days might have caused this 
 weariness in some degree ; so severe a mental strain 
 had perhaps momentarily deadened her sensibility^ 
 or else an eruption of mere temper had in a capri- 
 cious moment come to snatch away the joy which 
 should have been an attribute of her good fortune, 
 or this numbness might be accounted for by phy- 
 sical causes — sleeplessness. She was not usually of 
 such unstable health as to be disturbed by a few 
 nights' vigil, but she was content to think that it 
 might be — that age perhaps was beginning to 
 show itself in diminished power of endurance of 
 physical fatigue, or of undergoing the tension of 
 anxiety. Anything was better than a suspicion 
 that the deep-rooted sustaining worldliness of her 
 character was wavering, that she was in any
 
 A Disclos2tre. 297 
 
 degree losing the old thirst for success and progress 
 for achievement and attainment, in the positive 
 and tangible form of worldly honours and posses- 
 sions. What loneliness if that were so ! Where 
 was she to turn then ? what worship to set up in 
 place of the ancient gods if these — the best of 
 them — should turn out to be mere dumb idols 
 of wood and stone, now that she had mounted the 
 higher steps of the altar, and was by right of 
 possession to command all that these secular di- 
 vinities had in them to bestow? If the world 
 were really as hollow as it was preached to be, 
 then life had nothing for her beyond. This 
 marriage meant everything that she had most 
 coveted ; it secured the elevation of the entire 
 family, the future position of the other children, 
 and practically left her nothing further to aspire to. 
 A glance forward, and she saw herself presently 
 in the new and odd position of having nothing 
 further to desire or to pursue ; for an artizan spirit 
 like hers whose existence had hitherto been all 
 restlessness, this was a startling glimpse of an un-
 
 298 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 wholesome future. She was, in a word, beginning 
 already to realize the paltriness of mere possession 
 beside that wealth of anticipation in which she had 
 hitherto revelled. Yet the possible approach of 
 this mental change was faintly indicated ; the pulp 
 of thought had not hardened into lines and form. 
 She was merely aware of incompleteness vaguely, 
 and of an unpleasant intrusion of the sensation in a 
 moment which should be one of all-satisfying 
 happiness and triumph. An inconsistency which 
 is not uncommon, but it was new to her. 
 
 In a while she dozed away from dreams to sleep, 
 and woke in the grey of the summer morning to 
 catch the swish of Lord Lincoln's carriage-wheels 
 on the drive under her windows. She had a 
 glimpse of his travelling chariot winding beyond 
 the elms of the park. Now that he had gone a 
 sudden anxiety concerning the object of his journey 
 seized her again ; it dissipated the remnant of 
 mental feebleness which still hung like a vapour 
 about her thoughts, and deep and fervent was the 
 blessing which she invoked upon his adventure.
 
 A Disclosure, 
 
 299 
 
 The moment came at last ! 
 
 After breakfast she followed Lady Sophia to her 
 room^ that is, the Countess escaped from the table 
 as soon after as her duties as hostess permitted. 
 
 But Lady Sophia was not in her chamber. Here 
 was another of the oddities which were hanging 
 about the conduct of her daughter. The Countess 
 expected to find her waiting. She must have 
 understood how her maternal interest at least was 
 excited, if nothing was due to the earnest maternal 
 solicitude which she might equally well have sup- 
 posed to be on the rack. 
 
 Then the mother learned that her daughter had 
 gone out alone by the orchard walk, and inquiries 
 from the gardeners directed her westward through 
 the plantation to the view point. The Countess 
 followed, burning inwardly. It was natural, 
 perhaps, that Sophia should choose to be alone, but 
 some consideration was due to others. It was not 
 so natural that she should have the air of flying 
 from an interview, from a confidence — there had 
 hitherto been full confidence between them on
 
 300 A Chronicle of the Fe7^mors, 
 
 this supreme subject. Then a doubt darkened the 
 brow of the Countess — what if he had made some 
 condition excluding her formally from a share in 
 their secrets ! Lady Pomfret's instinct was shrewd 
 enough to divine that such a condition was not 
 improbable, her daughter might be endeavour- 
 ing merely to fulfil the conditions of a promise 
 which might have been wrung from her. The 
 mother knew that she would be loyal enough 
 to keep her word if it had been pledged. 
 
 The birds were twittering under the espaliers 
 in the beautiful morning. Pinks, lavender, and 
 roses, spread their scents across the path, and now 
 the shadow of the heavy forest trees was gained, 
 for the shafts of light fell slantwise still. It would 
 be late in the forenoon before a broad, direct sun 
 illumined the whole garden at once. As yet the 
 plantations barred out the light — Lord Pomfret was 
 always talking about those trees ; they were abom- 
 inable to his vegetarian aspirations, a standing 
 reproach to a man so deservedly proud of the 
 productiveness of his kitchen-garden.
 
 A Disclosure. 301 
 
 He would have levelled them long ago if he 
 might ; but the trees were under the special 
 protection of her ladyship's good taste, and woe to 
 the finger which bared a bough : true, at each 
 summer visit he satisfied his conscience, by renew- 
 ing liis resolution of " doing something next 
 winter about those trees," that were causing such 
 visible mischief to the peas and scarlet runners, 
 and drawing the turnips ; but my earl's '' name was 
 Easy." The winter came and went, and the trees 
 remained to preserve this end of the garden as a de- 
 liciously cool retreat in the dog-days, and to remind 
 my lord of his enduring conjugal subserviency. 
 
 There was a wicket at the end, and the path 
 beyond led into the wood proper, through a 
 tangle of creepers, ivies, and mosses, and such 
 sparse underwood as could vegetate reluctantly on 
 a foundation of protruding rock ; hence the 
 way led onwards to the view-point, climbing 
 up the intervening ledges, now and then giving 
 a glimpse through the foliage of the bright western 
 landscape to the right. There was a sweep of the
 
 302 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 river with vivid light upon it, behind the blocks 
 of oak — not mere sun-brown shadows near, and 
 greys beyond — the whole widening with a sort of 
 spring to right and left as the plateau of the view- 
 point was reached. Here was a summerhouse, 
 and an end of blue silk fringe stirred by the 
 rustic porch — Lady Sophia was there. 
 
 If Lady Pomfret had not had her eyes turned 
 inside — been absorbed in the study of her own 
 sensations — she would have been quick to see the 
 shudder which passed over her daughter's face, 
 but when she did raise her eyes, they were blinded 
 in the glare of her inward exaltation ; besides, 
 mothers have a wilful^ headlong way of treating 
 daughters in the position of Lady Sophia, and Lady 
 Pomfret's characteristic in any given situation 
 was wilfulness ; it was the essence of her nature. 
 Moreover, it was then not of supreme importance 
 to understand with what degree of joy her 
 daughter received this full realization of happiness, 
 the vital thing was to be told quickly upon what 
 basis the fuljBlment of it rested — it was not a time
 
 A Disclosure. 303 
 
 to take note of girlish caprices or inconsistencies of 
 facial expression. 
 
 " Ah, Tesoro mio ! I have caught you at last ; 
 sit down and tell me everything about it from 
 first to last, every word without a skip," cried out 
 the delighted Countess. ** Such a night as I have 
 had watching and imagining ! Self-control leaves 
 me when the happiness of a child is concerned ; the 
 mother rises up so strong I cannot help it. I saw 
 the last of him this morning, my Duchess ! he 
 went off with a mother's blessing on his journey. 
 We shall have him back with an uncle's bless- 
 ing, I trust, but we shall be satisfied whether he 
 brings it or not. I don't mind your looking pale, 
 my pearl, it becomes you ; whatever way you 
 look this morning, you are beautiful. And 
 whether the uncle consents or not, what matter ? 
 Anyway, the Clinton diamonds are an heir-loom ; 
 they must come to you_, the Clinton diamonds and 
 the Pomfret jewel of jewels. What a Duchess you 
 will make ! Fancy the rage of the Pelhams ! How 
 the raving old Methodist Lady Barbara will enjoy
 
 304 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 this news ! They did everything to snare him, 
 I knew of it all from the beginning ; played every 
 card in the pack at him — decoyed him down to 
 their den at Esher, and set him reading tracts 
 with Lady Barbara and all ; but heaven had a 
 better fate in store for him. I think he almost 
 deserves you, my queen ; if any man in England 
 could deserve you, Lincoln does. Come ! go back to 
 the beginning and tell me everything about your- 
 self. You do look pale, but 'tis with happiness. 
 Ah ! * happiness,' there is no cosmetic like it." 
 
 " Yes, I am very happy. There is no one like 
 him, as you say ; such a noble nature, such sen- 
 timents — " Lady Sophia stopped. " He is every- 
 thing that you could desire, mamma ; there is no 
 one like him," she repeated, coming to a full stop. 
 
 " Fortunately we are not looking out for 
 another of the same pattern at present," answered 
 the Countess, gaily ; " and as to his perfections, 
 they are admitted. But my old ears are 
 hungry to suck in your dainty secrets. I want 
 to taste the sweet poison of lovers' vows once
 
 A Disclosure. 305 
 
 more. Who knows if the gentlemen of your day 
 are as brisk and tender as were the gallants of 
 onrs ? Alas ! old fright that I am now, who would 
 imagine that I had ever been sentimental and a co- 
 quette — who would believe it ? Your father was 
 never much of a serenader at any time, it is true, 
 but he was not my first lover, there were others. 
 Alas! I should blush to boast of it, perhaps, but 
 there were. The fashion then was so, and one did 
 not like to put up for being better than other 
 people, like that old saint Lady Barbara, who never 
 in her best day had much temptation to be any- 
 thing else but a saint. Things are improved since in 
 matters of sentiment, and I approve of the change ; 
 people marry from afiection now and not according 
 to the odious foreign plan, by arrangement. How- 
 ever, 'tis not every girl who marries her first love. 
 You are very lucky, and such a first love — ah ! 
 there is nothing else in life to compare with it, 
 as Mr. Spence the poet said to me in Italy, when 
 the crazy Count with the beautiful eyes went 
 about singing madrigals to the stars about yours, 
 VOL. 1. X
 
 3o6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 happy Florence, ' FirenzeJ I always had a 
 presentiment that something would come of the 
 Eidolfi ; there was a fate in your meeting there by 
 accident ; but there is no such thing as accident, 
 providence arranged it for us ; I think so now. 
 Your happiness has almost made me religious. 
 Come! tell me. Don't continue to keep your 
 doting old mother any longer in suspense, my 
 angel! there is another kiss for you. When, 
 where, how, in what language did he propose? 
 was he modest ? shamefaced, I daresay. I trust you 
 did not give him an easy victory." 
 
 Lady Sophia's eyes filled up, the Countess 
 began to kiss her tenderly during the pause, 
 purring in an interjectional under-tone. '^ Only to 
 think of it! Duchess of Lincoln, Countess of 
 Newcastle ; no, that is not it, no wonder my old 
 wits are addled with joy. Could I see you 
 Duchess of Newcastle, but for a single day, I 
 should go to heaven a happy woman. Consider 
 what it means ! Mr. Walpole says the Duke has a 
 wardrobe of gold plate fit to figure in the Arabian
 
 A Disclosure. 307 
 
 Tales. I shall be civil to Mr. Walpole now you 
 are going to be married, before it was different ; 
 but I always found him pleasant and conversable, 
 and his father, too, so thought of by the king ; his 
 Majesty can't live without Sir Robert. That j^late 
 must come to you, Lincoln being the heir — it 
 must, with the rest — the family jewels are a 
 dowry in themselves. I am not spiteful naturally, 
 but when I reflect on what Lady Barbara and 
 Lady Caroline will think — however, the Pelhams 
 can't have things always their own way, they 
 regard this world as made only for themselves. 
 Pride will have a fall — it must ; and cunning 
 falls short sometimes — always pushing and 
 puffing each other, and holding together by the 
 family coat-tails to acquire greater strength and 
 seize the lion's share of everything ; sooner or later 
 such people will get their deserts. Lady Caroline, 
 with all her airs, deserves a reverse as much as 
 anybody — deserves to be humbled ; she has earned 
 it ; a fall would do her good. She assumes more 
 importance, I often thought, than poor Queen 
 
 X 2
 
 30 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 Caroline herself. My own idol, no wonder I am 
 bewildered with joy." Then the Countess looked 
 up with a start, and in a quick, sharp tone cried 
 out, '* What in heaven s name are you staring at, 
 child? what are these tears for?'* The truth burst 
 out in all its force, something was hideously amiss, 
 for the exclamation brought out the quick rejoinder, 
 ** Mamma, you will drive me mad ! how you take 
 everything for granted. Can't you understand 
 that there is nothing to tell you about ? that there 
 has not been any 'proposal at all ?" It was out now ; 
 the Countess caught the words, and a quick tight- 
 ness in the throat told her how well she under- 
 stood them. ' ' There has not been that exactly yet, 
 nothing so positive as yet." Lady Sophia was in 
 haste to get it all out before the violence of sob- 
 bing came on. " Not an engagement ; he must see 
 his uncle first; there are difficulties in that way, 
 certain things that must be explained. Mamma, 
 do not be hard with me, it is not any fault of 
 mine," added the girl piteously. 
 
 " Mop up your eyes this minute ; say in two
 
 A Disclosure. 309 
 
 words what I am to understand." The Countess 
 turned from white to crimson. 
 
 " I only know that he loves me, that I have his 
 affection, that is all," whimpers Lady Sophia 
 in a frightened way. " He did not seek a return 
 from me yet, he asks for nothing until he hears 
 from the Duke." 
 
 " Hears from his grandmother ! He has made a 
 declaration to you !" 
 
 "And I have confidence in his constancy and 
 affection, mamma. You know it concerns me 
 most of all, and when I have confidence, what 
 matter, when it concerns me more than anybody?" 
 
 " A declaration of love^ not of marriage, and 
 then talk of his uncle, and you — you suffered 
 him, and did not send for your booby of a 
 brother, for the servants and grooms to thrust 
 him out of your father's house !" screamed the 
 Countess. 
 
 There was some rebellion in the upraised 
 tearful face. 
 
 '' He has gone away to .see the Duke at once.
 
 3 1 o A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 he is very determined about it ; he left on 
 purpose." 
 
 " He is excellent at going away ; he has con- 
 vinced us already that he can proceed so far," 
 said the mother, grimly. " You foolish, miserable, 
 ungrateful child ! You satisfied ! you are easily 
 pleased, when a gentleman testifies the strength of 
 his passion by promptitude in turning his back ; 
 it was not the mode in my day. His uncle — 
 the Duke /" It was not so much the scorn in 
 which she pronounced these words as the energy 
 of gesture accompanying them ; perhaps in all her 
 life the Countess was never so near striking her 
 daughter on the spot, not so much in anger as by 
 way of conveying only a sufficiently explanatory 
 degree of vigour and of emphasis to her feelings. 
 Then she folded her arms quietly behind her 
 back as if with the notion of snatching them away 
 from that which was irresistibly becoming a ner- 
 vous inclination to do. There was the river and 
 the broad light sweeping over the landscape, and 
 the nodding branches rustling on a level with her
 
 A Disclosure, 31 
 
 feet, and the mean-looking china roses cluster- 
 ing up the trellis of the arbour, while the creaky 
 bell from the farm-buildings came tinkling down 
 the wind in a wheezy yet rollicking and good- 
 humoured discord. 
 
 On the sheep-walk behind, a shepherd was 
 whistling to his dog — how she hated all, land- 
 scape, roses, children — what a detestable world ! 
 If something would only come at once to over- 
 whelm, and make an end of it ! 
 
 In the next instant the angry Countess changed 
 her attitude, Lady Sophia lay back on the wicker- 
 work seat of the arbour, as pale as a corpse. 
 
 " Mamma, I am very faint." 
 
 The tide of feeling rushed back as suddenly in 
 the other direction. The pent-up maternal instincts 
 burst through every barrier, and the Countess 
 hung over her daughter, soothing her with caress- 
 ing words, undoing the fastenings around her 
 throat, pushing back the waving hair from the 
 beautiful brow. She understood then that she 
 had been harsh and unkind, that sympathy and aid
 
 312 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 were due to this timid palpitating heart; there 
 was pity and compassion in her touch. She 
 kissed her daughter tenderly, soothing and petting 
 in a kind womanly way. A tear, a single tear 
 oozed from the maternal eyelid and stopped 
 midway in its descent. Symbol of compassion or 
 of disappointment ? No matter which. But their 
 places were rapidly changed ; it was the mother's 
 turn now to plead against despondency, to sus- 
 tain a wavering faith, and make-believe herself 
 to see things in a brighter aspect. This restored 
 a full degree of confidence, and things really did 
 appear to be brighter for the restoration. Or 
 else it was a natural reaction from the first vio- 
 lence of disappointment ; but the Countess herself 
 grew more hopeful in listening to her daughter's 
 story. 
 
 It was something that Lord Lincoln should have 
 gone straight off to make a declaration to his 
 uncle, timid and vacillating as he had ever been — 
 there was so far a guarantee of earnestness in 
 that.
 
 A Disclosure. 313 
 
 " So things are not so bad. Why didn't you 
 mention it all at first ?" said the mother brightly, 
 glad to see the delicate flesh tints warm up again 
 as she rearranged the laces and ribands binding 
 the Juno-like throat. " You are always for keeping 
 me in some suspense about your secrets, and you 
 know suspense is what I cannot endure. My 
 temper is too quick for it. It vexed me at first, I 
 confess, to think that Lincoln should still choose to 
 consider himself a child, and that the old buffoon, 
 Newcastle, is to be for ever tugging at the end of 
 his leading strings." 
 
 " He regards him as a son, and has already 
 done more for him than many a father would," 
 pleaded Lady Sophia ; " besides, the kindness of his 
 disposition prevents him from offending any 
 human being, and I admire him for it," she added, 
 sturdily. 
 
 " It may be right to show respect, particularly 
 when he has such expectations from the old man, 
 but that is no reason why I should love his grace," 
 said the Countess, " and I do not. However, the
 
 314 ^ Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 Duke is. so fond of Lincoln that he cannot refuse 
 anything he persistently asks for." 
 
 " And he will be so persistent," said Lady 
 Sophia in a doubtful tone ; " he promised that he 
 would. 
 
 "Unquestionably I should prefer to have the 
 old man's consent. On the whole it would be 
 better," added the Countess with a dogmatic air, as if 
 the question was waiting only for her decision or 
 approval ; " but in the end if it must be, then we 
 shall manage to do without it. The knot once tied, 
 everything will be right. He will forgive and 
 make friends ; sooner or later Lincoln will be his 
 heir all the same, never doubt; so mend your 
 spirits and your face, I am quite hopeful now. 
 Believe me, if young people are constant and de- 
 termined, the old must end by giving in. Hush ! 
 here are footsteps ; what a misery not to have even 
 a moment to oneself ! Who would have thought of 
 anybody following us up here ! " A burst of 
 laughter outside in a rippling treble brought 
 Lady Sophia to her feet, and Mrs. Commyns and
 
 A D is do stive. 315 
 
 Miss Montagu appeared ; the latter was reading 
 aloud from an open letter. 
 
 Mrs. Commyns was visibly panting, and flounced 
 down on the nearest end of the seat. 
 
 " It is such a climb up here, no wonder you are 
 out of breath. I wonder you ventured so far," said 
 Lady Pomfret in a rapid tone, eyeing her daughter 
 and wondering whether her pallid face would pass 
 muster with Mrs. Commyns — whether that lynx- 
 eyed matron would notice any traces of a scene. 
 
 ^' I am out of breath with laughing/' said Mrs. 
 Commyns ; "Here, Miss Montagu has had a letter 
 from her relative the old Dragoness, Lady Gran- 
 ville, relating the grief she endures because of poor 
 Lady Carteret's death. As if death were anything 
 but a release to the poor lady, a release from the 
 claws of such a mother-in-law ! A dreadful ordeal 
 for a young girl to be thrust into a family which 
 despises her, don't you think so. Lady Pomfret ? I 
 wonder at the worldliness of parents who permit 
 their children to undergo such torture. I am some- 
 times thankful that I haven't a daughter, when I
 
 3 1 6 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 see a young life on the point of being ruined by 
 the shortsighted ambition of selfish parents. On 
 the other hand, I often regret that the daughter is 
 not my child in order that I might interpose to 
 save her happiness ; people grow so heartless when 
 vanity and avarice lay hold of them. Dear me, 
 how very hot ! — it must be more of a journey up 
 here than I imagined, though I am a good walker. 
 And to think of the old wretch having the hypo- 
 crisy to wear weepers after driving the unhappy 
 lady into her grave," continued Mrs. Commyns. 
 " Pray read a passage from the letter, it is from 
 Eliza Montagu. Mrs. Montagu excels in letter- 
 writing, she is almost as clever as your Ladyship 
 in that art, and she happened to call at Arlington 
 Street on a visit of condolence. As your Ladyship 
 looks out of humour it will make you laugh. 
 Pray read that passage from your letter, Miss 
 Montagu, Lady Pomfret will be highly amused." 
 
 '' I never was in better spirits in my life," said 
 the Countess. 
 
 " Then this scene of tenderness and sorrow will
 
 A Disclosure. 317 
 
 have a proper effect upon you all the same," said 
 Miss Montagu, reading aloud : 
 
 " Lady Granville sighed and tossed^ and thumped, 
 and praised and blamed ; most pathetically did she 
 break out again and again, giving an account of the 
 poor lady's death ; breaking off every now and then to 
 say all the disagreeable things she could think of to 
 Eliza herself, that her appearance was shocking, that 
 her jaws met, and her skin was black, and that she 
 icould not recognise her, 
 
 " Then back again to the chief subject, ' How poor 
 Lady Carteret got her death going abroad with a cold. 
 For if poor dear Lady Carteret had a fault — not 
 that I knoio poor dear Lady Carteret had a fault; — 
 nay, I believe poor dear Lady Carteret had never a 
 fault, but if she had a fault it was that she loved to 
 dress and go out ; and then you know that she never 
 spared herself: she would talk, always talk, but it was 
 to be so, it was ordained that she should die abroad! 
 All this, yea, and much more than mortal memory can 
 register, did she utter in a breath. Had her eloquence 
 one happy interval for me to have made my honours
 
 3 1 8 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 and escaped, hoiv blest had I been ; but as Mirabel 
 says of Lady Wislifort, * one must wait till she dies 
 to catch her last word.' " 
 
 " This may be very sprightly, but I confess it is 
 little to my taste ; I think that Mrs. Montagu, with 
 her reputation for writing, might have found a 
 more agreeable subject to exercise her wit upon," 
 said Lady Pomfret, crossly. 
 
 " There is surely no more agreeable subject in 
 the world than the old Dragoness," said Mrs. 
 Commyns. 
 
 " I refer to the flippant references to the sad 
 event. I must condemn the sentiment of that 
 letter. I wonder it provoked your laughter." 
 
 ^' It makes me shiver," said Lady Sophia ; " it 
 seems to me that there is a fate in it, something 
 ominous referring to myself in this dismal story — 
 the odd way in which it comes obtruding itself at 
 every hand's turn." 
 
 *'Your fate. Oh! that will be very different," 
 said Mrs. Commyns, looking at her curiously, and 
 then at Miss Montagu, who was primly drawing
 
 A Disclosure. 
 
 319 
 
 parallel lines on the ground with the point of her 
 parasol. " But it is natural to happiness to be 
 accompanied by presentiments, that is a law of 
 nature, and one can understand that at present 
 you may be a prey to them ; they are wisely 
 given sometimes as make-weights to prevent us 
 toppling over in the mere giddiness of our joy. 
 Yoa must be looking very far beforehand indeed, 
 or be very free from tangible causes of anxiety, when 
 you see anything referring to yourself or likely 
 to affect you in the sad fate of Lady Carteret." 
 
 Lady Pomfret made no answer. Then a further 
 pause. Mrs. Commyns could not make head against 
 the chilling demeanour of mother and daughter, but 
 the instincts of her ferret nature were not at fault. 
 She felt that something was wrong, and would 
 have liked to burrow farther in search of a secret 
 which she was conscious of feeling warm and near 
 somewhere under her hand ; however. Lady 
 Pomfret maintained her cold and cautious manner, 
 and the conversation lapsed. 
 
 Long afterwards Mrs. Commyns remembered that
 
 320 A Chronicle of the Fermors, 
 
 casual allusion to the fate of Lady Carteret, and 
 saw how direct a reference it bore to the destiny of 
 Lady Sophia Fermor, and that her own words then 
 bore a prophetic interpretation — one of those 
 random shots going direct to an unseen mark, as if 
 not hazard but destiny had guided the arrow.
 
 ( 3^1 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 LORD LINCOLN TAKES ANOTHER RESOLUTION. 
 
 Lord Lincoln started on his journey to town in 
 a thoroughly earnest mood, resolved to have an in- 
 terview with his uncle forthwith to explain matters 
 exactly as they stood, and, come what would of 
 it, crush any obstacle which barred his direct road 
 to Paradise. 
 
 There was to be no doubting this time, he would 
 go through with the affair to the end whatever the 
 price to be paid for thoroughness might be. 
 
 Having at last succeeded in hammering out his 
 purpose into a definite shape, he resolved to ad- 
 here to it stoutly. He mentally traced out a distinct 
 map of procedure for himself, and from that there 
 was to be no departure, the period of doubt and 
 vacillation had now gone by. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 22 A Chronicle of the Fermo7^s. 
 
 Being in this manly frame of mind he naturally 
 longed for action ; and it was moreover in ohe- 
 dience to a real necessity that he had quitted 
 Easton Neston so abruptly, for added to his 
 eagerness as a lover was the fear of missing the 
 opportunity of seeing his uncle at all ; a rumour 
 having prevailed that the Duke was summoned 
 to attend His Majesty in Hanover, that he was 
 going there^ or that he had already set forth ; late 
 despatches from town were full of such reports. 
 
 It was certain that much doubt existed as to 
 the Duke's intentions with regard to this trip. It 
 was a favourite peculiarity of that great statesman 
 to mystify the public on this special subject. He 
 was constantly in a state of going to Hanover, 
 and bets were made at the clubs as to whether he 
 was going — or gone — or intended to set out at 
 all. With the Duke, one of the principles of states- 
 manship appeared to be to deceive for the plea- 
 sure of the art itself. Illustrating this peculiarity, 
 and with reference to similar Hanover rumours 
 which were rife on another occasion, Walpole writes:
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resolution. 323 
 
 " The Duke of Newcastle is not gone : he has 
 kissed hands and talks of going this week ; the 
 time presses, and he has not above three days to 
 fall dangerously ill. There are a thousand wagers 
 laid against his going : he has hired a transport, 
 for the yacht is not big enough to convey all the 
 tables and chairs and conveniences that he trails 
 along with him, and which he seems to think don't 
 grow out of England. I don't know how he pro- 
 poses to lug them through Holland and Germany, 
 though any objections that the map can make to 
 his progress don't count, for he is literally so 
 ignorant, that when one goes to take leave of him 
 he asks your commands into the north, concluding 
 that Hanover is north of Great Britain because it 
 is in the northern province, which he has just 
 taken ; you will scarcely believe this, but 'pon my 
 honour it is true." 
 
 However, Lord Lincoln being now in a state 
 of alarm on this point, proceeded to town with 
 all possible despatch. A courier rode on before 
 to have the jaded post-horses ready harnessed
 
 324 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 for the arrival of his chariot These patient 
 animals were flogged unmercifully to gratify the 
 ardour of the enamoured traveller. 
 
 How vast is the influence of trifles in directing 
 destiny. If Lincoln could have stepped into a 
 first-class carriage, and run up to town in an hour, 
 while the love-fit was still hot on him, it is 
 probahle that the interview with his uncle would 
 have taken place on the same day, and, whether 
 amicably or not, an arrangement come to then. 
 The same night's post would have carried down 
 news of the proceedings into Northamptonshire, 
 and everybody concerned have been superlatively 
 happy or miserable for life in twelve hours after 
 post delivery ; but the locomotive arrangements of 
 the period were clumsy and unreliable, and the 
 ride up to London was tedious. At Leighton 
 Buzzard there was an annual fair, and the tide of 
 universal drinking had drenched the postilions. 
 There were highwaymen lying about waiting for 
 the homeward-bound cattle-dealers, and ray Lord 
 had to mount a supernumerary out-rider. More-
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resolution. 
 
 3^5 
 
 over, he took Diggon, one of the constables of 
 Dunstable, back to that town with him for greater 
 protection. Diggon had a blunderbuss and sat 
 upon the box, my Lord taking his servant 
 Alphonse inside to make room for the constable. 
 Alphonse was nervous in this strange country, and 
 glad enough to come down from his exposed perch 
 outside. Dunstable itself was safely reached 
 towards nightfall, and in rattling over the abomin- 
 able pavement of that town the linchpin slipped 
 out, and a wheel came off the chariot. The 
 travellers had a fortunate escape of it; and 
 Alphonse screamed as his arm — the sore one, that 
 with the secret scrape under the ruffle — received a 
 squeeze in the shock. This proved a serious 
 annoyance, for the shaft of the carriage was 
 wrenched out of truth_, and, the morrow being 
 Sunday, the smith turned out to be a strict 
 Methodist, who for all the lords in Christendom 
 would not incur the chance of unmentionable 
 flames by blowing his bellows on the Sabbath. 
 So our hero was obliged to pass Sunday in
 
 326 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Dunstable, to his sore distress. He had abundant 
 leisure to reflect there. Alas ! the difficulties of 
 his enterprise and the pains of his position did not 
 diminish by reflection. It was very distressing to 
 recognise that one way or other he would have to 
 go through with something which must be ex- 
 ceedingly disagreeable to himself. He did not like 
 to give pain to his uncle, he did not like incurring 
 pain of any kind himself, he never did; but he 
 seemed to have no choice about it now. 
 
 Honour obliged him to proceed, honour itself — 
 even in the absence of inclination, that alone 
 would have been sufficient motive to urge him 
 forward. Yet on maturer thought he did not 
 dwell on this method of argument, it perversely 
 cut both ways ; the value of that noble sentiment 
 as an impulse being diminished when he remem- 
 bered the claims of Catherine Pelham ; for honour 
 somehow sounded as binding in one case as the 
 other. 
 
 He preferred to repeat to himself that, having 
 decided on one course, there was no use in dis-
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resolution. 327 
 
 tracting his mind by coDsidering any other as even 
 possible. Besides, in an affair of the affections, it 
 was the privilege of every man to follow out his 
 liking in a headstrong way, no matter whither 
 that way might lead. Lincoln repeated this 
 many times, he liked the sound of it — 'twas manly, 
 or something very much to the purpose, so he 
 went and scrawled a lady's name on the window- 
 pane of liis sitting-room with his diamond ring ; 
 the reader need not be told which of the ladies' 
 names it was : then he yawned and shivered, and 
 wished that the interview with the Duke was 
 fairly over, pondering over his wine at dinner, and 
 afterwards went to afternoon service to pass the 
 evening. 
 
 Another disappointment on reaching town — the 
 Duke was not at Hanover, but at Olaremont, and 
 was not expected back for a few days — even so ! 
 Lincoln's resolution held up bravely for these few 
 days. It had indeed rather gained than lost in 
 spirit for the keeping; the time for action being 
 deferred, he felt himself grow in purpose, as all of
 
 328 A Chronicle of the Fevfuors. 
 
 us do when a certain period of enforced delay 
 stands before the execution of a distasteful duty ; and 
 when he did present himself at the Duke's mansion, 
 the weatherglass of his valour had not declined 
 many degrees. 
 
 The Duke inhabited the large house at the 
 corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields^ since divided into 
 two ; and when the young earl arrived in his 
 carriage to inquire the news from Claremont, he 
 did not in reality expect that the actual moment 
 of trial had come. The safe interval of a journey 
 up to town he believed still lay between him and 
 the ordeal of an interview. 
 
 That certitude was however grievously shaken as 
 he drove up to the mansion. Lord! what a press was 
 there ! Coaches, carriages, chairs ; a beau, fresh 
 alighted from his chair, was daintily picking his 
 steps through the mud to the steps of the great man's 
 portal ; a doctor of divinity in a shovel hat was 
 hurriedly descending from it on the other side, a 
 sour look of disappointment on his pendulous cheeks. 
 Lincoln had some hope from the dejected face of this
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resohttion. 329 
 
 divine ; it iniglit be that he was disappointed at find- 
 ing the Duke absent. Coming nearer, the crowd 
 thickened : footmen and constables, a rabble of link 
 boys, messengers, hawkers, ballad-singers, were all 
 screaming, chattering, squabbling at foot of the 
 steps. Occasionally through the press the staves 
 of footmen opened a passage for an approaching 
 chair ; and as Lincoln's coach glided in slowly 
 through the press, a superb chariot passed the 
 other way^ and also at an enforced walking 
 pace. A magnificent equipage lined with pearl- 
 grey brocade; the curtains of blue satin, and 
 inside a reclining figure dressed in a canary- 
 coloured suit of the same material as the curtains, 
 with a spyglass to his eye. His jabot was 
 fastened by an oval miniature set in stones. 
 Venus reclining in her shell was the subject of the 
 picture ; the goddess had a dove upon her wrist. 
 There were more doves disporting with Cupids on 
 the silver-mounted panel of the vehicle. This 
 was Kuskins, the great City broker, whose father 
 had drawn up such a netful of wealth out of that
 
 33 o A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 huge bubble which had engulfed so many hapless 
 fortunes. Euskins kept on the family business 
 stilly fop as he was, but he kept great state and 
 great company besides, and successively repre- 
 sented several boroughs in Parliament, which he 
 paid for at a handsome figure. The Duke must 
 be at home, Lincoln thought, turning pale as 
 the broker passed by. Ruskins was not a man 
 to waste his minutes driving out on a fool's 
 errand. Doubtless it was by appointment that 
 he had come ; so when Lincoln alighted and 
 learned that his grace was neither at Claremont 
 nor at Hanover, but actually upstairs, having 
 posted up from Claremont on account of sudden 
 despatches from abroad, it was not wholly a sur- 
 prise. More of a disappointment would have 
 been more welcome to him than that news was at 
 first. He hesitated for a moment; there were so 
 many people waiting ? However, one of the 
 chamberlains appeared, and Lord Lincoln was 
 officiously assured that his grace would be only too 
 happy to receive his lordship at once in the private
 
 Lord Lincoln takes a7iother Resohition. 331 
 
 study, for all the expectant crowd which filled the 
 waiting-rooms and lobbies on that side of the 
 house. So there was nothing for it but to follow 
 the footman upstairs. 
 
 The private secretary's retreat was a very 
 comfortable room, upholstered in almond-coloured 
 silk ; a marble writing-table with ormolu supports 
 and fixings ; on the table a superb paper-cutter, 
 the blade in niello by Tommaso ; the handle set 
 in Russian topazes, a gift from Lord Grrantham ; 
 on the mantelpiece, in bronze, a bust of Minerva. 
 
 " Henry ! Henry ! Henry !" The Duke cast his 
 arms upward, striving to encircle the tall person 
 of his nephew in an embrace ; while, in wanton- 
 ness of absurdity, kissing him, literally kissing 
 on either cheek, or at random on what other 
 portion of the face he could in his hurry and 
 eagerness attain to. 
 
 " Henry ! the last man alive I expected to meet 
 now, and the most welcome visitor now and at all 
 times, my son, my pride, my hope," cried his grace 
 pausing in his kisses. " How glad I am to see you !
 
 ^^2 A Chronicle of the Fermors. 
 
 Ithoughtyouavvayintbeox)uiitry." (Kiss.) "When 
 did you reach town ? Have you breakfasted ? Have 
 you lunched ? Are you come to remain here ? I that 
 expected you at Claremont, and feared you might 
 arrive there during my imprisonment here. Mr. 
 Secretary Wilmot, you may leave, you can retire," 
 added the Duke in a formal tone, leading Lincoln 
 into the room, and pompously signalling a gentle- 
 man in scrupulous black, who gravely rose from a 
 table littered with documents, and made for the 
 door. " Gently, Mr. Wilmot, gently^ do not shake 
 the room ; you know I cannot bear these noises at 
 present. Wait without for my signal. I shall 
 summon you presently," he added ; scowling as the 
 cringing secretary crept away. Then the great 
 statesman lay back in his chair with an exhausted 
 air, his eyes resting meditatively on the effigy 
 of Minerva. He was one of the most extraordi- 
 nary characters in history. Let us take a look at 
 him as he sat, with Lord Lincoln on his right 
 hand, staring hard into the crown of his laced hat, 
 meditating also — he did not know which end of his
 
 Lord Lincoln takes another Resolution. 333 
 
 awkward subject to present first. Yet now that 
 the critical moment had arrived he manfully 
 resolved to proceed with the business to the 
 end — to the sweet or bitter end, whatever 
 consequences should come of it. 
 
 E\I) OF VOL. I. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 PUIVTEn nY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, 
 
 6TAMFOl:r 6TBEET AND CHARrNG CItOSS.
 
 3 0112 049778563 
 
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