1861.]

GOOD FOR

NOTHING;

JOHN GORDON was by no means

given to making rash promises. The wariest of weasels, however, is, on occasion, to be caught asleep, and John, in a moment of abandon, had promised Miss Jones that she should receive an invitation to Lady Olivia's coming 'at home,' in Belgrave-square; a rash pledge, forsooth, and one not to be redeemed save by a great expenditure of management and diplomacy.

To my reader of the work-a-day world say, our honest business-like man of five-and-forty (if such should indeed condescend to glance over these frivolous pages)-it may seem unaccountable that the slightest interest should attach to a piece of glazed cardboard, entitling the recipient to stand in full-dress on a crowded staircase for two or three hours of a summer's night! If he be a bachelor I should despair of making clear to him these Eleusinian mysteries. He is innocent of the autopsia; he knows nothing of Hierophantes, who, as I take it, was the Athenian Beadle; and the petroma is to him a sealed volume. Let him remain in his ignorance, and bless himself the while. But if he be a family-man, rejoicing in a vine and olivebranches, an expensive wife and blooming daughters, they will explain to him, if they have not impressed it on him already, how such a cartel constitutes a veritable diploma, the full reward for many months of competitive energy and serious application. They will tell him how to be seen at Lady Olivia's is a recognition of that position which entitles them to call on Lady Barthedore, that Lady Barthedore's intimates have the entrée to Ormolu House, and that from Ormolu House to the seventh heaven is but one step.

Beatus ille procul a negotiis of such kind, say I. Alas! for John Gordon's rash engagement, and the negotiations that must ensue.

He had so much real business to do that it was not till the very day of the fête that he found leisure to call in Belgrave-square. He had written a note, however, in the morning to Lady Gertrude, respecting some of that young lady's trifling commissions, and expressing a hope that he should find her at home during some part of the day, and had received, as he expected, a laconic answer, in the well-known hand

'My dear Mr. Gordon' (it used to be 'Dear Mr. Gordon'), 'Aunt Olivia wants to see you very much. Tea as usual at 4.30.' And signed with a flourishing monogrammatic 'G.' of which Gertrude was rather proud.

He felt he should be welcome, he had not seen any of them since the concert. No one knew better than John Gordon the weight of the French maxim, Il faut se faire valoir.

Behold him, then, at 4.30, sitting in a corner of the large drawingroom, with a tea-cup in his hand, preparing to do battle with two ladies on a point which was calculated to call forth all the natural wilfulness of the species. Heavy odds, even for Mr. Gordon. The house was thoroughly uncomfortable. As in a ship cleared for action, everything seemed out of its place, and put in everybody's way. Like the same ship after the contest, it would take some days before the effects of the bouleversement should disappear. John said as much.

'People ought to be very grateful to you, Lady Olivia, for putting yourself to all this inconvenience.

How many cards have you sent out?

Her ladyship named the number graciously enough; she liked to think she was fulfilling the onerous duties of her rank. John proceeded warily

'How right you are not to ask twice as many people as the house will hold! Now at Mrs. Montpellier's, last night, I never got farther than the awning!'

Lady Olivia's smile was stern. It is needless to say that she held stanchly by the Visigoth faction, and if poor Mrs. M. had been a Suttee widow, and burned alive on the occasion in question, she would have listened with grim approval.

'We don't visit Mrs. Montpellier,' said Gertrude, rather mischievously. 'I should like to know her, I think; she's certainly handsome, and looks as if she ought to be amusing.'

"She's more a friend of Gilbert's than mine,' answered the gentleman, 'only having a card, I thought I would look in for five minutes, which I didn't. I think if I had a sister I shouldn't take her to Mrs. Montpellier's. It's a great thing for a girl when first she comes out, to go to a few good places, only a very few, and those very good ones, quoth John, as gravely as if he had studied nothing but the Social Humbug all his life.

'You are quite right,' asserted Lady Olivia; if I take a young lady by the hand, I am most particular as to her engagements. Gertrude's first year, I only allowed her two outings' in the week. A good introduction is everything. It is of vital importance. Without a good introduction a girl is inevitably lost!'

Lady Olivia expatiated on this point, as one might who should keep the gates of Paradise and proclaim the easiest way therein. She had herself enjoyed this unspeakable advantage. Nobody's 'introduction' could have been better. Had her lines indeed fallen to her in such pleasant places? had she been resting ever since by the margin of living waters, among the fields of asphodel?

"The very reason I recommended

a young friend of mine not to go to Mrs. Montpellier's last night,' observed the astute John. If it was Lady Barthedore's, or Ormolu House, or here, for instance, I told her it would be a different thing; but this is your first season, I said, you don't know many people, mind you only know good ones."

Lady Gertrude made a funny little face; she was not deficient in penetration; while her aunt signified a gracious approval.

'You see your way more clearly than most people,' the latter observed encouragingly; 'men so seldom can be made to understand these matters. Poor Mr. Orme would ask all sorts of people out of the highways and hedges, and expect me not only to be civil to them, but to know them, and their wives afterwards.'

If poor Mr. Orme, who was held by certain observers to have justly earned that epithet previous to his decease, really cherished any such expectations, he must have been grievously disappointed.

'I take a great interest in this girl,' resumed John; whereat Lady Gertrude glanced quickly in his face; and I should like to see her well launched. I wish you would let me introduce her to you, Lady Olivia.'

'Would she like a card for tonight? inquired her ladyship, very graciously; 'I should be happy to take her by the hand, I am sure, if she is a nice person, and belongs to people that one knows.'

Now here was the difficulty. Alderman Jones, in the execution of his duties as her son's guardian, had come frequently into contact with Lady Olivia, and it speaks well for the Alderman's good humour that their discussions had never terminated in an outbreak. He was an old friend and schoolfellow of her husband; the boys had been at Charter House together when the latter was a second son with but modest expectations; and this youthful alliance had served to recommend him but little to Lady Olivia. She had always strenuously set her face against having anything to do with the Jones's,

my dear, except in the way of business. And Gertrude, who was as prejudiced a little aristocrat as ever a one of the great Whig family to which she belonged, backed up her aunt firmly in this determination, if in no other.

John resolved to secure one ally, at least; so he turned to Lady Gertrude.

'It is for Miss Jones,' said he, 'that I would venture to ask this

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incapable of granting a favour gracefully. She always seemed to think its value enhanced by the difficulty with which it was wrung from her. So she coughed ominously, as she replied

'I fear I have already exceeded my stated number, Mr. Gordon; and I do not wish my house to be quite as crowded as your friend Mrs. Montpellier's.'

'I know it is a very

as you know I often do with my good partner. I met Gilbert, of all people in the world! and I thought he seemed very much smitten with the young lady. You know he is not very susceptible, so when he does strike his flag, it is all the greater compliment.'

Now this was one of those chance shots which, like the missile of an ambushed sportsman, though aimed at a single duck, brings down a whole troop of wild-fowl, splashing, and quacking, and scattering over the water. At the first mention of the ominous name, the younger lady gave a little toss of her shapely head, whilst the elder's brow grew black as midnight; but when the supposed conquest of the hard-hearted Gilbert was reported, a sudden change seemed to show itself simultaneously in each. John had judged, and rightly, that proud Gertrude would support him vehemently in any request he might make, rather than be supposed capable of jealousy of a Miss Jones. But he had not calculated on Lady Olivia's speedy acquiescence in any measure which might tend further to separate the two cousins. So he was not surprised when Lady Gertrude answered quickly, and with rising colour,

'Oh, by all means let us have her, Aunt Olivia; poor girl, it will be a charity to take her away from the savages on the other side of Oxfordstreet, if only for one night, and to show her the manners and customs of the civilized English in the nineteenth century.'

But he was a little astonished to mark Lady Olivia's frown gradually subside as he concluded his sentence. That lady, however, was

VOL. LXIII. NO. CCCLXXVI.

Ι assure you,

Lady Olivia, I would not have asked any one to do me such a kindness but yourself.'

Whilst at the same moment Gertrude interposed eagerly.

'Oh, pray send her a card, Aunt Olivia; one more wont make any difference, even with our large dresses; though Charley Wing does say that every soldier occupies eighteen inches on parade, and every lady eighteen feet! Say "yes,' Aunt Olivia. and I'll write a card for Mr. Gordon in a moment.'

Thus adjured, Lady Olivia said 'yes,' though not very graciously; and so it was decided that Bella Jones should be supremely blessed that very night. Diplomatic John Gordon had gained his point, and that was always sufficient for John, who, like a great man of the last century, confined himself to doing one thing at one time, and did it, in consequence, effectually.

Perhaps he gained more than his point without knowing it. In the general conversation which ensued, Lady Gertrude was not so talkative as usual. Neither did she endorse her aunt's invitation to a spare place in the well-known barouche then waiting at the door, an invitation the busy gentleman was compelled somewhat reluctantly to decline; but when he lingered for a few moments after the elder lady's departure to prepare for her drive, Gertrude lingered too, not because he did, of course, for she went to the writing-table in the back drawing-room, and proceeded to fill in a printed card for Miss Jones. That simple patronymic contains but five letters, and the day of the month requires no great effort of caligraphy, yet it took Lady Gertrude

FF

two or three minutes to accomplish her task. Then she came back to John and put the card in his hand with a little scornful curtsey, and rather a forced smile.

'Is Miss Jones really a nice person?' she asked, turning away to inspect minutely the mignionette in the window. unaffected.

'Good-humoured

Yes, a very nice girl, I should say,' answered John; as what else could he answer?

'And very beautiful, too, is she not? pursued the lady.

'Many people admire her, I believe,' replied he, abstractedly, and, truth to tell, somewhat tired of the subject.

'Do you think her pretty? said Gertrude, turning round with a quick searching glance. Rapid as it was, John's eyes met hers, and a faint blush came into his pale cheek.

'No, I can't say I do,' was his reply; and the tone in which he spoke would have carried conviction to the most incredulous.

Lady Gertrude was evidently not on terms of ceremony with Mr. Gordon, for she bounded up-stairs to put on 'her things' without wishing him 'good-bye,' and a minute afterwards was singing as merrily over her toilette as her own canary-bird. When she came down again, Lady Olivia was ready in the drawing-room, but Mr. Gordon was gone. If she had expected to find him there, she bore her disappointment bravely enough. Even the footman who shut up the carriagesteps after her thought he had never seen his young lady look so well and so cheerful-saucy' would have been his expression had he been capable of reducing his reflections to his own vernacular-as on that bright summer afternoon.

And John Gordon, having enclosed and, sealed up the precious document, stepped into Piccadilly to drop it into the nearest postoffice. It had cost Lady Olivia's writing-table two envelopes, though, for he spoilt the first by addressing

it to

"The Lady Gertrude Jones, Verbena Villa, Regent's Park.'

CHAPTER XIV.

PELIDES.

The son of Peleus, flinging his shield abroad in high defiance, as it would seem, of his equestrian rival perched on the gate of Constitution-hill over against him, must have acquired ere this a degree of philosophy and savoir vivre for which he was not distinguished in the days when he sulked in his tent by the sounding sea, and chafed to hear of high-crested Hector crashing through the battle under the walls of Troy.

How many London seasons has he stood there in his naked bronze, and watched the living kaleidoscope in Hyde Park, ever varying, ever on the move, tossing its tinsel into a thousand combinations, gaudy, purposeless, and provokingly alike!

Since our fair countrywomen put him up in honour of one whose fame shall outlast his own, he has indeed witnessed some unimportant changes. He has seen Grosvenor-gate deserted for the banks of the Serpentine, and the wooden rails in the Ride converted into iron. Also the introduction of penny chairs in that locality, an imitation from the French, which is doubtless, even in our uncertain climate, no trifling improvement, Nevertheless, it has its drawbacks. Three-quarters of a mile of beauty

English beauty, too-looking its best, attired in gorgeous apparel, and drawn up sometimes even three deep, is a glorious sight doubtless, and one calculated to inspire feelings of admiration and enthusiasm not entirely devoid ofawe; but to walk composedly from end to end of such an array, is an ordeal that a bashful man may well shudder to undergo. I should scarcely recommend an Englishman to attempt it; and to do them justice, I have remarked that my countrymen seldom venture to run the gauntlet unsupported and alone. Damon meets Pythias, and hooks him by the arm ere he commences the promenade. Thus encouraged he crosses the line of fire leisurely and coolly enough, but if the latter

should be suddenly seized with a fit, or otherwise incapacitated, Damon becomes instantly conscious of a total disorganization of his outward man. It seems that his clothes don't fit him, that his boots look too large and feel too small; that his hat is too tight, his gloves too loose; and that there is something irresistibly ludicrous in the expression of his profile. His only course is to dash at an empty chair, pay his penny, and join the ranks of the aggressors on the spot, till he can prevail on another friend to take pity on him and tow him off. A Crimean officer who was present at the attack on the Redan, has assured me that he would rather encounter the fire that swept that deadly glacis over again, than walk solus on a summer's afternoon up the right-hand side of Rotten-row from Apsley House to the Serpentine.

The costume, too, of gentlemen and ladies has undergone some mutations since the first fine day that our Achilles found himself standing on his bare legs in the Corner. There are no high neckcloths, there are no blue tail coats, alas! there are no Hessian boots now. D'Orsay has followed Brummel where dress is unnecessary, perhaps inconvenient, and a garment that fitted a man would be pointed at in the present day as simply ridiculous. Our youths are clothed to please themselves, and so, I presume, are the ladies. That an outer fabric of light material standing several feet from the person on all sides, is a cool and comfortable attire in warm weather, appears a self-evident proposition, but that the beauty of the female figure is enhanced by thus up-springing, so to speak, like a jack-in-the-box, out of a volume of circumambient muslin, is a question of opinion which may admit of some dispute. Who shall decide on such matters? Achilles must congratulate himself that his own proportions are independent of all vagaries of Fashion and changes of costume.

Above all, if he be wise, should he exult and leap for joy, as it were, in the untrammelled luxury of his

419

naked feet. I speak it advisedly when I say that on the most crowded day in June, I believe the Greek alone of all that throng around him is ignorant of the suffering caused by a pair of tight boots. Now, I am aware that in this department of art, as in many others, we have borrowed largely from the French. I am not to be told that Hoby and Hubert and the rest have achieved all that can be achieved with so pliant a material as leather, and that even the cunning chiropodist who did so much for Louis Napoleon, finds his profession failing him day by day, for that there are no excrescences now to pare away. So when I speak of tight boots, be it understood that I speak metaphorically; that I allude to the moral pinching of the shoe,' which the proverb says is best known to him who wears it,' to that torture of the inner man which all the easings and stretchings of all the cobblers and cordwainers who do homage to St. Crispin are powerless to assuage.

Let us take at random the three or four men encountered by John Gordon as he turns into the park after dropping his missive at

Piccadilly post-office; and first, it is worth while to scan the pace and action of John himself. His footfall on the pavement is firm, light, and regular, the tread of a man whom fencing, running, leaping, and such athletic exercises have put well upon his legs; his polished boots look cool, easy, and comfortable; his demeanour preserves its usual confidence and assurance; his expression, though habitually grave, is that of one with whom all is well within and without. Pelides, in his bronze, could not look more imperturbable and self-reliant. But is it so? By no means. John's boots are to-day a good deal tighter than usual. Certain shares which he holds on his own account, and in the selection of which he flattered himself he had shown more than common perspicuity, were this morning at a considerable discount in the City. The business of which he is principal manager has got into a hitch, and