Venetia

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  It has been well observed, that no spectacle is so ridiculous as theBritish public in one of its periodical fits of morality. In general,elopements, divorces, and family quarrels pass with little notice. Weread the scandal, talk about it for a day, and forget it. But, once insix or seven years, our virtue becomes outrageous. We cannot sufferthe laws of religion and decency to be violated. We must make astand against vice. We must teach libertines that the English peopleappreciate the importance of domestic ties. Accordingly, someunfortunate man, in no respect more depraved than hundreds whoseoffences have been treated with lenity, is singled out as an expiatorysacrifice. If he has children, they are to be taken from him. If hehas a profession, he is to be driven from it. He is cut by the higherorders, and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, a sort of whippingboy, by whose vicarious agonies all the other transgressors of thesame class are, it is supposed, sufficiently chastised. We reflectvery complacently on our own severity, and compare, with great pride,the high standard of morals established in England, with the Parisianlaxity. At length, our anger is satiated, our victim is ruined andheart-broken, and our virtue goes quietly to sleep for seven yearsmore.

  These observations of a celebrated writer apply to the instance ofLord Cadurcis; he was the periodical victim, the scapegoat of Englishmorality, sent into the wilderness with all the crimes and curses ofthe multitude on his head. Lord Cadurcis had certainly committed agreat crime: not his intrigue with Lady Monteagle, for that surely wasnot an unprecedented offence; not his duel with her husband, for afterall it was a duel in self-defence; and, at all events, divorcesand duels, under any circumstances, would scarcely have excited orauthorised the storm which was now about to burst over the latespoiled child of society. But Lord Cadurcis had been guilty of theoffence which, of all offences, is punished most severely: LordCadurcis had been overpraised. He had excited too warm an interest;and the public, with its usual justice, was resolved to chastise himfor its own folly.

  There are no fits of caprice so hasty and so violent as those ofsociety. Society, indeed, is all passion and no heart. Cadurcis, inallusion to his sudden and singular success, had been in the habit ofsaying to his intimates, that he 'woke one morning and found himselffamous.' He might now observe, 'I woke one morning and found myselfinfamous.' Before twenty-four hours had passed over his duel with LordMonteagle, he found himself branded by every journal in London, as anunprincipled and unparalleled reprobate. The public, without waitingto think or even to inquire after the truth, instantly selected asgenuine the most false and the most flagrant of the fifty libellousnarratives that were circulated of the transaction. Stories,inconsistent with themselves, were all alike eagerly believed, andwhat evidence there might be for any one of them, the virtuous people,by whom they were repeated, neither cared nor knew. The public, inshort, fell into a passion with their darling, and, ashamed of theirpast idolatry, nothing would satisfy them but knocking the divinity onthe head.

  Until Lord Monteagle, to the great regret of society, who reallywished him to die in order that his antagonist might commit murder,was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis never quitted his house, andhe was not a little surprised that scarcely a human being called uponhim except his cousin, who immediately flew to his succour. George,indeed, would gladly have spared Cadurcis any knowledge of the stormthat was raging against him, and which he flattered himself would blowover before Cadurcis was again abroad; but he was so much withhis cousin, and Cadurcis was so extremely acute and naturally sosuspicious, that this was impossible. Moreover, his absolute desertionby his friends, and the invectives and the lampoons with which thenewspapers abounded, and of which he was the subject, rendered anyconcealment out of the question, and poor George passed his life inrunning about contradicting falsehoods, stating truth, fighting hiscousin's battles, and then reporting to him, in the course of the day,the state of the campaign.

  Cadurcis, being a man of infinite sensibility, suffered tortures. Hehad been so habituated to panegyric, that the slightest criticismruffled him, and now his works had suddenly become the subject ofuniversal and outrageous attack; having lived only in a cloud ofincense, he suddenly found himself in a pillory of moral indignation;his writings, his habits, his temper, his person, were all alikeridiculed and vilified. In a word, Cadurcis, the petted, idolised,spoiled Cadurcis, was enduring that charming vicissitude in aprosperous existence, styled a reaction; and a conqueror, who deemedhimself invincible, suddenly vanquished, could scarcely be morethunderstruck, or feel more impotently desperate.

  The tortures of his mind, however, which this sudden change in hisposition and in the opinions of society, were of themselves competentto occasion to one of so impetuous and irritable a temperament, andwho ever magnified both misery and delight with all the creativepower of a brooding imagination, were excited in his case even to theliveliest agony, when he reminded himself of the situation in which hewas now placed with Venetia. All hope of ever obtaining her hand hadnow certainly vanished, and he doubted whether even her love couldsurvive the quick occurrence, after his ardent vows, of this degradingand mortifying catastrophe. He execrated Lady Monteagle with the mostheartfelt rage, and when he remembered that all this time the worldbelieved him the devoted admirer of this vixen, his brain wasstimulated almost to the verge of insanity. His only hope of thetruth reaching Venetia was through the medium of his cousin, and heimpressed daily upon Captain Cadurcis the infinite consolation itwould prove to him, if he could contrive to make her aware of the realfacts of the case. According to the public voice, Lady Monteagle athis solicitation had fled to his house, and remained there, and herhusband forced his entrance into the mansion in the middle of thenight, while his wife escaped disguised in Lord Cadurcis' clothes.She did not, however, reach Monteagle House in time enough toescape detection by her lord, who had instantly sought and obtainedsatisfaction from his treacherous friend. All the monstrous inventionsof the first week had now subsided into this circumstantial andundoubted narrative; at least this was the version believed by thosewho had been Cadurcis' friends. They circulated the authentic talewith the most considerate assiduity, and shook their heads, and saidit was too bad, and that he must not be countenanced.

  The moment Lord Monteagle was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcismade his appearance in public. He walked into Brookes', and everybodyseemed suddenly so deeply interested in the newspapers, that you mighthave supposed they had brought intelligence of a great battle, or arevolution, or a change of ministry at the least. One or two men spoketo him, who had never presumed to address him at any other time, andhe received a faint bow from a distinguished nobleman, who had everprofessed for him the greatest consideration and esteem.

  Cadurcis mounted his horse and rode down to the House of Lords. Therewas a debate of some public interest, and a considerable crowd wascollected round the Peers' entrance. The moment Lord Cadurcis wasrecognised, the multitude began hooting. He was agitated, and grinneda ghastly smile at the rabble. But he dismounted, without furtherannoyance, and took his seat. Not a single peer of his own party spoketo him. The leader of the Opposition, indeed, bowed to him, and, inthe course of the evening, he received, from one or two more of hisparty, some formal evidences of frigid courtesy. The tone of hisreception by his friends could not be concealed from the ministerialparty. It was soon detected, and generally whispered, that LordCadurcis was cut. Nevertheless, he sat out the debate and voted. Thehouse broke up. He felt lonely; his old friend, the Bishop of----, whohad observed all that had occurred, and who might easily have avoidedhim, came forward, however, in the most marked manner, and, in a tonewhich everybody heard, said, 'How do you do, Lord Cadurcis? I am veryglad to see you,' shaking his hand most cordially. This made a greatimpression. Several of the Tory Lords, among them Venetia's uncle, nowadvanced and sainted him. He received their advances with a haughty,but not disdainful, courtesy; but when his Whig friends, confused, nowhurried to encumber him with their assistance, he treated them withthe scorn which
they well deserved.

  'Will you take a seat in my carriage home, Lord Cadurcis?' said hisleader, for it was notorious that Cadurcis had been mobbed on hisarrival.

  'Thank you, my lord,' said Cadurcis, speaking very audibly, 'Iprefer returning as I came. We are really both of us such unpopularpersonages, that your kindness would scarcely be prudent.'

  The house had been full; there was a great scuffle and confusion asthe peers were departing; the mob, now considerable, were prepared forthe appearance of Lord Cadurcis, and their demeanour was menacing.Some shouted out his name; then it was repeated with odious andvindictive epithets, followed by ferocious yells. A great manypeers collected round Cadurcis, and entreated him not to return onhorseback. It must be confessed that genuine and considerable feelingwas now shown by all men of all parties. And indeed to witness thisyoung, and noble, and gifted creature, but a few days back the idolof the nation, and from whom a word, a glance even, was deemed thegreatest and most gratifying distinction, whom all orders, classes,and conditions of men had combined to stimulate with multipliedadulation, with all the glory and ravishing delights of the world, asit were, forced upon him, to see him thus assailed with the savageexecrations of all those vile things who exult in the fall ofeverything that is great, and the abasement of everything that isnoble, was indeed a spectacle which might have silenced malice andsatisfied envy!

  'My carriage is most heartily at your service, Lord Cadurcis,' saidthe noble leader of the government in the upper house; 'you can enterit without the slightest suspicion by these ruffians.' 'Lord Cadurcis;my dear lord; my good lord, for our sakes, if not for your own;Cadurcis, dear Cadurcis, my good Cadurcis, it is madness, folly,insanity; a mob will do anything, and an English mob is viler thanall; for Heaven's sake!' Such were a few of the varied exclamationswhich resounded on all sides, but which produced on the person to whomthey were addressed only the result of his desiring the attendant tocall for his horses.

  The lobby was yet full; it was a fine thing in the light of thearchway to see Cadurcis spring into his saddle. Instantly there was ahorrible yell. Yet in spite of all their menaces, the mob were for atime awed by his courage; they made way for him; he might even haverode quickly on for some few yards, but he would not; he reined hisfiery steed into a slow but stately pace, and, with a countenancescornful and composed, he continued his progress, apparentlyunconscious of impediment. Meanwhile, the hooting continued withoutabatement, increasing indeed, after the first comparative pause,in violence and menace. At length a bolder ruffian, excited by theuproar, rushed forward and seized Cadurcis' bridle. Cadurcis struckthe man over the eyes with his whip, and at the same time touched hishorse with his spur, and the assailant was dashed to the ground. Thisseemed a signal for a general assault. It commenced with hideousyells. His friends at the house, who had watched everything with thekeenest interest, immediately directed all the constables who were athand to rush to his succour; hitherto they had restrained the police,lest their interference might stimulate rather than repress the mob.The charge of the constables was well timed; they laid about them withtheir staves; you might have heard the echo of many a broken crown.Nevertheless, though they dispersed the mass, they could not penetratethe immediate barrier that surrounded Lord Cadurcis, whose onlydefence indeed, for they had cut off his groom, was the terrors of hishorse's heels, and whose managed motions he regulated with admirableskill, now rearing, now prancing, now kicking behind, and nowturning round with a quick yet sweeping motion, before which the mobretreated. Off his horse, however, they seemed resolved to drag him;and it was not difficult to conceive, if they succeeded, what mustbe his eventual fate. They were infuriate, but his contact with hisassailants fortunately prevented their co-mates from hurling stones athim from the fear of endangering their own friends.

  A messenger to the Horse Guards had been sent from the House of Lords;but, before the military could arrive, and fortunately (for, withtheir utmost expedition, they must have been too late), a rumour ofthe attack got current in the House of Commons. Captain Cadurcis,Lord Scrope, and a few other young men instantly rushed out; and,ascertaining the truth, armed with good cudgels and such othereffective weapons as they could instantly obtain, they mounted theirhorses and charged the nearly-triumphant populace, dealing suchvigorous blows that their efforts soon made a visible diversion inLord Cadurcis' favour. It is difficult, indeed, to convey an idea ofthe exertions and achievements of Captain Cadurcis; no Paladin ofchivalry ever executed such marvels on a swarm of Paynim slaves; andmany a bloody coxcomb and broken limb bore witness in Petty Francethat night to his achievements. Still the mob struggled and were notdaunted by the delay in immolating their victim. As long as they hadonly to fight against men in plain clothes, they were valorous andobstinate enough; but the moment that the crests of a troop of HorseGuards were seen trotting down Parliament Street, everybody ran away,and in a few minutes all Palace-yard was as still as if the genius ofthe place rendered a riot impossible.

  Lord Cadurcis thanked his friends, who were profuse in theircompliments to his pluck. His manner, usually playful with hisintimates of his own standing, was, however, rather grave at present,though very cordial. He asked them home to dine with him; but theywere obliged to decline his invitation, as a division was expected;so, saying 'Good-bye, George, perhaps I shall see you to-night,'Cadurcis rode rapidly off.

  With Cadurcis there was but one step from the most exquisitesensitiveness to the most violent defiance. The experience of thisday had entirely cured him of his previous nervous deference to thefeelings of society. Society had outraged him, and now he resolved tooutrage society. He owed society nothing; his reception at the Houseof Lords and the riot in Palace-yard had alike cleared his accountswith all orders of men, from the highest to the lowest. He hadexperienced, indeed, some kindness that he could not forget, but onlyfrom his own kin, and those who with his associations were the same askin. His memory dwelt with gratification on his cousin's courageouszeal, and still more on the demonstration which Masham had made in hisfavour, which, if possible, argued still greater boldness and sincereregard. That was a trial of true affection, and an instance of moralcourage, which Cadurcis honoured, and which he never could forget. Hewas anxious about Venetia; he wished to stand as well with her as hedeserved; no better; but he was grieved to think she could believe allthose infamous tales at present current respecting himself. But, forthe rest of the world, he delivered them all to the most absolutecontempt, disgust, and execration; he resolved, from this time,nothing should ever induce him again to enter society, or admit theadvances of a single civilised ruffian who affected to be social. Thecountry, the people, their habits, laws, manners, customs, opinions,and everything connected with them, were viewed with the samejaundiced eye; and his only object now was to quit England, to whichhe resolved never to return.