CHAPTER VIII.
LIGHTLY WON, LIGHTLY LOST.--A DIALOGUE OF EQUAL INSTRUCTION ANDAMUSEMENT.--A VISIT TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
ONE morning Tarleton breakfasted with me. "I don't see the little page,"said he, "who was always in attendance in your anteroom; what the deucehas become of him?"
"You must ask his mistress; she has quarrelled with me, and withdrawnboth her favour and her messenger."
"What! the Lady Hasselton quarrelled with you! _Diable_! Wherefore?"
"Because I am not enough of the 'pretty fellow;' am tired of carryinghood and scarf, and sitting behind her chair through five long acts of adull play; because I disappointed her in not searching for her at everydrum and quadrille party; because I admired not her monkey; and becauseI broke a teapot with a toad for a cover."
"And is not that enough?" cried Tarleton. "Heavens! what a blackbead-roll of offences; Mrs. Merton would have discarded me for one ofthem. However, thy account has removed my surprise; I heard her praisethee the other day; now, as long as she loved thee, she always abusedthee like a pickpocket."
"Ha! ha! ha!--and what said she in my favour?"
"Why, that you were certainly very handsome, though you were small; thatyou were certainly a great genius, though every one would not discoverit; and that you certainly had the air of high birth, though you werenot nearly so well dressed as Beau Tippetly. But _entre nous_, Devereux,I think she hates you, and would play you a trick of spite--revenge istoo strong a word--if she could find an opportunity."
"Likely enough, Tarleton; but a coquette's lover is always on his guard;so she will not take me unawares."
"So be it. But tell me, Devereux, who is to be your next mistress, Mrs.Denton or Lady Clancathcart? the world gives them both to you."
"The world is always as generous with what is worthless as the bishop inthe fable was with his blessing. However, I promise thee, Tarleton, thatI will not interfere with thy claims either upon Mrs. Denton or LadyClancathcart."
"Nay," said Tarleton, "I will own that you are a very Scipio; butit must be confessed, even by you, satirist as you are, that LadyClancathcart has a beautiful set of features."
"A handsome face, but so vilely made. She would make a splendid pictureif, like the goddess Laverna, she could be painted as a head without abody."
"Ha! ha! ha!--you have a bitter tongue, Count; but Mrs. Denton, whathave you to say against her?"
"Nothing; she has no pretensions for me to contradict. She has a greeneye and a sharp voice; a mincing gait and a broad foot. What friend ofMrs. Denton would not, therefore, counsel her to a prudent obscurity?"
"She never had but one lover in the world," said Tarleton, "who was old,blind, lame, and poor; she accepted him, and became Mrs. Denton."
"Yes," said I, "she was like the magnet, and received her name from thevery first person* sensible of her attraction."
*Magnes.
"Well, you have a shrewd way of saying sweet things," said Tarleton;"but I must own that you rarely or never direct it towards womenindividually. What makes you break through your ordinary custom?"
"Because I am angry with women collectively; and must pour my spleenthrough whatever channel presents itself."
"Astonishing," said Tarleton; "I despise women myself. I always did; butyou were their most enthusiastic and chivalrous defender a month or twoago. What makes thee change, my Sir Amadis?"
"Disappointment! they weary, vex, disgust me; selfish, frivolous, mean,heartless: out on them! 'tis a disgrace to have their love!"
"O _Ciel_! What a sensation the news of thy misogyny will cause; theyoung, gay, rich Count Devereux, whose wit, vivacity, splendour ofappearance, in equipage and dress, in the course of one season havethrown all the most established beaux and pretty fellows into the shade;to whom dedications and odes and _billet-doux_ are so much waste paper;who has carried off the most general envy and dislike that any man everwas blest with, since St. John turned politician; what! thou all of asudden to become a railer against the divine sex that made thee whatthou art! Fly, fly, unhappy apostate, or expect the fate of Orpheus, atleast!"
"None of your raileries, Tarleton, or I shall speak to you of plebeiansand the _canaille!_"
"_Sacre_! my teeth are on edge already! Oh, the base, base _canaille_,how I loathe them! Nay, Devereux, joking apart, I love you twice as wellfor your humour. I despise the sex heartily. Indeed, _sub rosa_ be itspoken, there are few things that breathe that I do not despise. Humannature seems to me a most pitiful bundle of rags and scraps, which thegods threw out of Heaven, as the dust and rubbish there."
"A pleasant view of thy species," said I.
"By my soul it is. Contempt is to me a luxury. I would not lose theprivilege of loathing for all the objects which fools ever admired. Whatdoes old Persius say on the subject?
"'Hoc ridere meum, tam nil, nulla tibi vendo Iliade.'"*
* "This privilege of mine, to laugh,--such a nothing as it seems,--Iwould not barter to thee for an Iliad."
"And yet, Tarleton," said I, "the littlest feeling of all is a delightin contemplating the littleness of other people. Nothing is morecontemptible than habitual contempt."
"Prithee, now," answered the haughty aristocrat, "let us not talk ofthese matters so subtly: leave me my enjoyment without refining upon it.What is your first pursuit for the morning?"
"Why, I have promised my uncle a picture of that invaluable countenancewhich Lady Hasselton finds so handsome; and I am going to give Knellermy last sitting."
"So, so, I will accompany you; I like the vain old dog; 'tis a pleasureto hear him admire himself so wittily."
"Come, then!" said I, taking up my hat and sword; and, enteringTarleton's carriage, we drove to the painter's abode.
We found him employed in finishing a portrait of Lady Godolphin.
"He, he!" cried he, when he beheld me approach. "By Got, I am glad tosee you, Count Tevereux; dis painting is tamned poor work by one's self,widout any one to make _des grands yeux_, and cry, 'Oh, Sir GodfreyKneller, how fine dis is!'"
"Very true, indeed," said I, "no great man can be expected to waste histalents without his proper reward of praise. But, Heavens, Tarleton, didyou ever see anything so wonderful? that hand, that arm, how exquisite!If Apollo turned painter, and borrowed colours from the rainbow andmodels from the goddesses, he would not be fit to hold the pallet to SirGodfrey Kneller."
"By Got, Count Tevereux, you are von grand judge of painting," criedthe artist, with sparkling eyes, "and I will paint you as von tamnedhandsome man!"
"Nay, my Apelles, you might as well preserve some likeness."
"Likeness, by Got! I vill make you like and handsome both. By my shoulyou make me von Apelles, I vill make you von Alexander!"
"People in general," said Tarleton, gravely, "believe that Alexanderhad a wry neck, and was a very plain fellow; but no one can know aboutAlexander like Sir Godfrey Kneller, who has studied military tactics soaccurately, and who, if he had taken up the sword instead of the pencil,would have been at least an Alexander himself."
"By Got, Meester Tarleton, you are as goot a judge of de talents for dewar as Count Tevereux of de _genie_ for de painting! Meester Tarleton, Ivill paint your picture, and I vill make your eyes von goot inch biggerthan dey are!"
"Large or small," said I (for Tarleton, who had a haughty custom ofcontracting his orbs till they were scarce perceptible, was so muchoffended, that I thought it prudent to cut off his reply), "large orsmall, Sir Godfrey, Mr. Tarleton's eyes are capable of admiring yourgenius; why, your painting is like lightning, and one flash of yourbrush would be sufficient to restore even a blind man to sight."
"It is tamned true," said Sir Godfrey, earnestly; "and it did restorevon man to sight once! By my shoul, it did! but sit yourself town, CountTevereux, and look over your left shoulder--ah, dat is it--and now,praise on, Count Tevereux; de thought of my genius gives you--vat youcall it--von animation--von fire, look you--by my shoul, it does!"
And by dint of suc
h moderate panegyric, the worthy Sir Godfrey completedmy picture, with equal satisfaction to himself and the original. Seewhat a beautifier is flattery: a few sweet words will send the CountDevereux down to posterity with at least three times as much beauty ashe could justly lay claim to.*
* This picture represents the Count in an undress. The face isdecidedly, though by no means remarkably, handsome; the nose isaquiline,--the upper lip short and chiselled,--the eyes gray, and theforehead, which is by far the finest feature in the countenance, ispeculiarly high, broad, and massive. The mouth has but little beauty; itis severe, caustic, and rather displeasing, from the extreme compressionof the lips. The great and prevalent expression of the face is energy.The eye, the brow, the turn of the head, the erect, penetratingaspect,--are all strikingly bold, animated, and even daring. And thisexpression makes a singular contrast to that in another likeness tothe Count, which was taken at a much later period of life. The latterportrait represents him in a foreign uniform, decorated with orders. Thepeculiar sarcasm of the month is hidden beneath a very long and thickmustachio, of a much darker colour than the hair (for in both portraits,as in Jervas's picture of Lord Bolingbroke, the hair is left undisguisedby the odious fashion of the day). Across one cheek there is a slightscar, as of a sabre cut. The whole character of this portrait is widelydifferent from that in the earlier one. Not a trace of the fire, theanimation, which were so striking in the physiognomy of the youth oftwenty, is discoverable in the calm, sedate, stately, yet somewhat sternexpression, which seems immovably spread over the paler hue and the moreprominent features of the man of about four or five and thirty. Yet,upon the whole, the face in the latter portrait is handsomer; and, fromits air of dignity and reflection, even more impressive than that in theone I have first described.--ED.