Devereux — Complete

  CHAPTER III.

  THE REAL ACTORS SPECTATORS TO THE FALSE ONES.

  IT was a brilliant night at the theatre. The boxes were crowded toexcess. Every eye was directed towards Lord Bolingbroke, who, withhis usual dignified and consummate grace of manner, conversed with thevarious loiterers with whom, from time to time, his box was filled.

  "Look yonder," said a very young man, of singular personal beauty, "lookyonder, my Lord, what a panoply of smiles the Duchess wears to-night,and how triumphantly she directs those eyes, which they say were once sobeautiful, to your box."

  "Ah," said Bolingbroke, "her Grace does me too much honour: I mustnot neglect to acknowledge her courtesy;" and, leaning over the box,Bolingbroke watched his opportunity till the Duchess of Marlborough, whosat opposite to him, and who was talking with great and evidently joyousvivacity to a tall, thin man, beside her, directed her attention, andthat of her whole party, in a fixed and concentrated stare, to theimperilled minister. With a dignified smile Lord Bolingbroke then puthis hand to his heart, and bowed profoundly; the Duchess looked a littleabashed, but returned the courtesy quickly and slightly, and renewed herconversation.

  "Faith, my Lord," cried the young gentleman who had before spoken, "youmanaged that well! No reproach is like that which we clothe in a smile,and present with a bow."

  "I am happy," said Lord Bolingbroke, "that my conduct receives the gravesupport of a son of my political opponent."

  "_Grave_ support, my Lord! you are mistaken: never apply the epithetgrave to anything belonging to Philip Wharton. But, in sober earnest,I have sat long enough with you to terrify all my friends, and must nowshow my worshipful face in another part of the house. Count Devereux,will you come with me to the Duchess's?"

  "What! the Duchess's immediately after Lord Bolingbroke's!--the Whigafter the Tory: it would be as trying to one's assurance as a changefrom the cold bath to the hot to one's constitution."

  "Well, and what so delightful as a trial in which one triumphs? and achange in which one does not lose even one's countenance?"

  "Take care, my Lord," said Bolingbroke, laughing; "those are dangeroussentiments for a man like you, to whom the hopes of two great partiesare directed, to express so openly, even on a trifle and in a jest."

  "'Tis for that reason I utter them. I like being the object of hope andfear to men, since my miserable fortune made me marry at fourteen, andcease to be aught but a wedded thing to the women. But sup with me atthe Bedford,--you, my Lord, and the Count."

  "And you will ask Walpole, Addison, and Steele,* to join us, eh?" saidBolingbroke. "No, we have other engagements for to-night; but we shallmeet again soon."

  * All political opponents of Lord Bolingbroke.

  And the eccentric youth nodded his adieu, disappeared, and a minuteafterwards was seated by the side of the Duchess of Marlborough.

  "There goes a boy," said Bolingbroke, "who, at the age of fifteen,has in him the power to be the greatest man of his day, and in allprobability will only be the most singular. An obstinate man is sure ofdoing well; a wavering or a whimsical one (which is the same thing) isas uncertain, even in his elevation, as a shuttlecock. But look to thebox at the right: do you see the beautiful Lady Mary?"

  "Yes," said Mr. Trefusis, who was with us, "she has only just come totown. 'Tis said she and Ned Montagu live like doves."

  "How!" said Lord Bolingbroke; "that quick, restless eye seems to havevery little of the dove in it."

  "But how beautiful she is!" said Trefusis, admiringly. "What a pity thatthose exquisite hands should be so dirty! It reminds me" (Trefusis loveda coarse anecdote) "of her answer to old Madame de Noailles, who madeexactly the same remark to her. 'Do you call my hands dirty?' cried LadyMary, holding them up with the most innocent _naivete_. 'Ah, Madame, _sivous pouviez voir mes pieds!_'"

  "_Fi donc_," said I, turning away; "but who is that very small, deformedman behind her,--he with the bright black eye?"

  "Know you not?" said Bolingbroke; "tell it not in Gath!--'tis a risingsun, whom I have already learned to worship,--the young author of the'Essay on Criticism,' and 'The Rape of the Lock.' Egad, the little poetseems to eclipse us with the women as much as with the men. Do you markhow eagerly Lady Mary listens to him, even though the tall gentlemanin black, who in vain endeavours to win her attentions, is thought thehandsomest gallant in London? Ah, Genius is paid by smiles from allfemales but Fortune; little, methinks, does that young poet, in hisfirst intoxication of flattery and fame, guess what a lot of contestand strife is in store for him. The very breath which a literary manrespires is hot with hatred, and the youthful proselyte enters thatcareer which seems to him so glittering, even as Dame Pliant's brotherin the 'Alchemist' entered town,--not to be fed with luxury, and diet onpleasure, but 'to learn to quarrel and live by his wits.'"

  The play was now nearly over. With great gravity Lord Bolingbrokesummoned one of the principal actors to his box, and bespoke a play forthe next week; leaning then on my arm, he left the theatre. We hastenedto his home, put on our disguises, and, without any adventure worthrecounting, effected our escape and landed safely at Calais.