No More Learning

The first was a short, thick man, whose only business was
dealing certain portions of playing cards with quick succession,
one after the other; and as the fate of the table was decided by
this process, did his companion, an extremely tall, thin man,
throw various pieces of money upon certain stakes, which were
deposited by the bystanders on different parts of the table; or,
which was more often the case, with a silver rake with a long
ebony handle, sweep into a large inclosure near him the scat-
tered sums.
This inclosure was called the bank, and the myste-
rious ceremony in which these persons were assisting was the
celebrated game of rouge-et-noir. A deep silence was strictly
observed by those who immediately surrounded the table; no
voice was heard save that of the little, short, stout dealer, when,
without an expression of the least interest, he seemed mechani-
cally to announce the fate of the different colors. No other
sound was heard save the jingle of the dollars and napoleons,
and the ominous rake of the tall, thin banker. The countenances
of those who were hazarding their money were grave and gloomy;
their eyes were fixed, their brows contracted, and their lips pro-
jected; and yet there was an evident effort visible to show that
they were both easy and unconcerned.
Each player held in his
hand a small piece of pasteboard, on which, with a steel pricker,
he marked the run of the cards, in order, from his observations,
to regulate his own play: the rouge-et-noir player imagines that
chance is not capricious. Those who were not interested in the
game promenaded in two lines within the tables; or, seated in


## p. 1639 (#437) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1639
recesses between the pillars, formed small parties for conversa-
tion.
As Vivian and the baron entered, Lady Madeleine Trevor,
leaning on the arm of an elderly man, left the room; but as she
was in earnest conversation, she did not observe them.
“I suppose we must throw away a dollar or two, Grey ! ” said
the baron, as he walked up to the table.
"My dear De Konigstein -- one pinch- one pinch! ”
“Ah! marquis, what fortune to-night ? ”
“ Bad — bad! I have lost my napoleon: I never risk further.
There's that cursed crusty old De Trumpetson, persisting, as
usual, in his run of bad luck, because he will never give in.
Trust me, my dear De Konigstein, it'll end in his ruin; and
then, if there's a sale of his effects, I shall perhaps get the
snuff-box-a-a-h!
"Come, Grey; shall I throw down a couple of napoleons on
joint account? I don't care much for play myself; but I sup-
pose at Ems we must make up our minds to lose a few louis.
Here! now for the red — joint account, mind! ”
« Done. ”
« There's the archduke! Let us go and make our bow; we
needn't stick at the table as if our whole soul were staked with
our crown pieces — we'll make our bow, and then return in time
to know our fate. ” So saying, the gentlemen walked up to the
top of the room.
“Why, Grey! - surely no— it cannot be — and yet it is. De
Bæeffleurs, how d'ye do? ” said the baron, with a face beaming
with joy, and a hearty shake of the hand. “My deardear
fellow, how the devil did you manage to get off so soon ? I
thought you were not to be here for a fortnight: we only
arrived ourselves to-day. ”
“Yes — but I've made an arrangement which I did not antici-
pate; and so I posted after you immediately. Whom do you
think I have brought with me? ”
« Who?
« Salvinski. ”
And the count ? »
« Follows immediately. I expect him to-morrow or next day.
Salvinski is talking to the archduke; and see, he beckons to me.
I suppose I am going to be presented. ”
The chevalier moved forward, followed by the baron and
Vivian.
“Ah!


## p. 1640 (#438) ###########################################

1640
LORD BEACONSFIELD
“Any friend of Prince Salvinski I shall always have great
pleasure in having presented to me. Chevalier, I feel great
pleasure in having you presented to me! Chevalier, you ought
to be proud of the name of Frenchman. Chevalier, the French
are a grand nation. Chevalier, I have the highest respect for
the French nation. ”
« The most subtle diplomatist,” thought Vivian, as he recalled
to mind his own introduction, would be puzzled to decide to
which interest his imperial highness leans. ”
The archduke now entered into conversation with the prince,
and most of the circle who surrounded him. As his highness
was addressing Vivian, the baron let slip our hero's arm, and
seizing hold of the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, began walking up
and down the room with him, and was soon engaged in very
animated conversation. In a few minutes the archduke, bowing
to his circle, made a move and regained the side of a Saxon
lady, from whose interesting company he had been disturbed
by the arrival of Prince Salvinski - an individual of whose long
stories and dull romances the archduke had, from experience,
a particular dread; but his highness was always very courteous
to the Poles.
«Grey, I've dispatched De Bæffleurs to the house to instruct
the servant and Ernstorff to do the impossible, in order that
our rooms may be all together. You'll be delighted with De
Boeffleurs when you know him, and I expect you to be great
friends. Oh! by the by, his unexpected arrival has quite made
us forget our venture at rouge-et-noir. Of course we're too late
now for anything; even if we had been fortunate, our doubled
stake, remaining on the table, is of course lost; we may as
well, however, walk up. ” So saying, the baron reached the
table.
« That is your excellency's stake! — that is your excellency's.
stake! ” exclaimed many voices as he came up.
What's the matter, my friends ? what's the matter ? ) asked
the baron, very calmly.
« There's been a run
on the red! there's been a run on the
red! and your excellency's stake has doubled each time. It has
been 4-8-16—32 — 64 — 128 — 256; and now it's 512! » quickly
rattled a little thin man in spectacles, pointing at the same time
to his unparalleled line of punctures. This was one of those
officious, noisy little men, who are always ready to give you
unasked information on every possible subject, and who are


## p. 1641 (#439) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1641
never so happy as when they are watching over the interest of
some stranger, who never thanks them for their unnecessary
solicitude.
Vivian, in spite of his philosophy, felt the excitement and
wonder of the moment. He looked very earnestly at the baron,
whose countenance, however, remained perfectly unmoved.
"Grey," said he, very coolly, “it seems we're in luck. ”
The stake's then not all your own? ” very eagerly asked the
little man in spectacles.
“No, part of it is yours, sir,” answered the baron, very dryly.
“I'm going to deal,” said the short, thick man behind. “Is the
board cleared ? »
“Your excellency then allows the stake to remain ? ” inquired
the tall, thin banker, with affected nonchalance.
“Oh! certainly,” said the baron, with real nonchalance.
« Three - eight - fourteen – twenty-four -- thirty-four, Rouge
34 — »
All crowded nearer; the table was surrounded five or six
deep, for the wonderful run of luck had got wind, and nearly the
whole room were round the table. Indeed, the archduke and
Saxon lady, and of course the silent suite, were left alone at the
upper part of the room. The tall banker did not conceal his
agitation. Even the short, stout dealer ceased to be a machine.
All looked anxious except the baron. Vivian looked at the table;
his excellency watched, with a keen eye, the little dealer. No
one even breathed as the cards descended.
"Ten-twenty-
here the countenance of the banker brightened — «twenty-two-
twenty-five-twenty-eight — thirty-one - Noir 31. The bank's
broke; no more play to-night. The roulette table opens imme-
diately. "
In spite of the great interest which had been excited, nearly
the whole crowd, without waiting to congratulate the baron,
rushed to the opposite side of the room in order to secure places
at the roulette table.
“Put these five hundred and twelve Napoleons into a bag,”
said the baron; “Grey, this is your share, and I congratulate
you. With regard to the other half, Mr. Hermann, what bills
have you got? ”
“Two on Gogel's house of Frankfort — accepted of course
for two hundred and fifty each, and these twelve napoleons will
make it right,” said the tall banker, as he opened a large black


## p. 1642 (#440) ###########################################

1642
LORD BEACONSFIELD
pocket-book, from which he took out two small bits of paper.
The baron examined them, and after having seen them indorsed,
put them calmly into his pocket, not forgetting the twelve napo-
leons; and then taking Vivian's arm, and regretting extremely
that he should have the trouble of carrying such a weight, he
wished Mr. Hermann a very good-night and success at his rou-
lette, and walked with his companion quietly home. Thus passed
a day at Ems!
THE FESTA IN THE (ALHAMBRA »
From The Young Duke )
ou entered the Alhambra by a Saracenic cloister, from the
of
This passage
some Eastern arms hung up against the wall.
led to the armory, a room of moderate dimensions, but hung with
rich contents. Many an inlaid breastplate — many a Mameluke
scimitar and Damascus blade -- many a gemmed pistol and pearl-
embroided saddle might there be seen, though viewed in a sub-
dued and quiet light. All seemed hushed and still, and shrouded
in what had the reputation of being a palace of pleasure.
In this chamber assembled the expected guests. His Grace
and the Bird of Paradise arrived first, with their foreign friends.
Lord Squib and Lord Darrell, Sir Lucius Grafton, Mr. Annesley,
and Mr. Peacock Piggott followed, but not alone. There were
two ladies who, by courtesy if no other right, bore the titles of
Lady Squib and Mrs. Annesley. There was also a pseudo Lady
Aphrodite Grafton. There was Mrs. Montfort, the famous blonde,
of a beauty which was quite ravishing, and dignified as beautiful.
Some said (but really people say such things) that there was a
talk (I never believe anything I hear) that had not the Bird of
Paradise flown in (these foreigners pick up everything), Mrs.
Montfort would have been the Duchess of St. James. How this
may be I know not; certain, however, this superb and stately
donna did not openly evince any spleen at her more fortunate
rival. Although she found herself a guest at the Alhambra
instead of being the mistress of the palace, probably, like many
other ladies, she looked upon this affair of the singing-bird as a
freak that must end — and then perhaps his Grace, who was
charming young man, would return to his senses. There also
a


## p. 1643 (#441) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1643
was her sister, a long, fair girl, who looked sentimental, but
was only silly. There was a little French actress, like a highly
finished miniature; and a Spanish danseuse, tall, dusky, and lithe,
glancing like a lynx, and graceful as a jennet.
Having all arrived, they proceeded down a small gallery to
the banqueting-room. The doors were thrown open. Pardon me
if for a moment I do not describe the chamber; but really, the
blaze affects my sight. The room was large and lofty.
It was
fitted up as an Eastern tent. The walls were hung with scarlet
cloth tied up with ropes of gold.
of gold. Round the room crouched
recumbent lions richly gilt, who grasped in their paw a lance,
the top of which was a colored lamp. The ceiling was embla-
zoned with the Hauteville arms, and was radiant with burnished
gold. A cresset lamp was suspended from the centre of the
shield, and not only emitted an equable flow of soft though
brilliant light, but also, as the aromatic oil wasted away, distilled
an exquisite perfume.
The table blazed with golden plate, for the Bird of Paradise
loved splendor. At the end of the room, under a canopy and
upon a throne, the shield and vases lately executed for his Grace
now appeared. Everything was gorgeous, costly, and imposing;
but there was no pretense, save in the original outline, at main-
taining the Oriental character. The furniture was French; and
opposite the throne Canova's Hebe, by Bertolini, bounded with a
golden cup from a pedestal of ormolu.
The guests are séated; but after a few minutes the servants
withdraw. Small tables of ebony and silver, and dumb-waiters of
ivory and gold, conveniently stored, are at hand, and Spiridion
never leaves the room. The repast was most refined, most ex-
quisite, and most various. It was one of those meetings where
all eat. When a few persons, easy and unconstrained, unincum-
bered with cares, and of dispositions addicted to enjoyment, get
together at past midnight, it is extraordinary what an appetite
they evince. Singers also are proverbially prone to gormandize;
and though the Bird of Paradise unfortunately possessed the
smallest mouth in all Singingland, it is astonishing how she
pecked! But they talked as well as feasted, and were really
gay. It was amusing to observe
that is to say,
if
been a dumb-waiter, and had time for observation - how charac-
teristic was the affectation of the women. Lady Squib was witty,
Mrs. Annesley refined, and the pseudo Lady Afy fashionable.
you had


## p. 1644 (#442) ###########################################

1644
LORD BEACONSFIELD
« What
As for Mrs. Montfort, she was, as her wont, somewhat silent but
excessively sublime. The Spaniard said nothing, but no doubt
indicated the possession of Cervantic humor by the sly calmness
with which she exhausted her own waiter and pillaged her neigh-
bors.
The little Frenchwoman scarcely ate anything, but drank
champagne and chatted, with equal rapidity and equal composure.
«Prince,” said the duke, "I hope Madame de Harestein ap-
proves of your trip to England ? »
The prince only smiled, for he was of a silent disposition, and
therefore wonderfully well suited his traveling companion.
« Poor Madame de Harestein! ” exclaimed Count Frill.
despair she was in when you left Vienna, my dear duke. Ah!
mon Dieu ! ! I did what I could to amuse her. I used to take
my guitar, and sing to her morning and night, but without the
least effect. She certainly would have died of a broken heart, if
it had not been for the dancing-dogs. ”
«The dancing-dogs! ” minced the pseudo Lady Aphrodite.
«How shocking! ”
"Did they bite her ? ” asked Lady Squib, and so inoculate her
with gayety ? ”
“Oh! the dancing-dogs, my dear ladies! everybody was mad
about the dancing-dogs. They came from Peru, and danced the
mazurka in green jackets with a jabot! Oh! what a jabot ! »
“I dislike animals excessively,” remarked Mrs. Annesley.
« Dislike the dancing-dogs! ” said Count Frill. "Ah, my good
lady, you would have been enchanted. Even the kaiser fed them
with pistachio nuts. Oh, so pretty! delicate leetle things, soft
shining little legs, and pretty little faces! so sensible, and with
such jabots ! »
“I assure you, they were excessively amusing,” said the
prince, in a soft, confidential undertone to his neighbor, Mrs.
Montfort, who, admiring his silence, which she took for state,
smiled and bowed with fascinating condescension.
"And what else has happened very remarkable, count, since I
left you ? » asked Lord Darrell.
“Nothing, nothing, my dear Darrell. This bêtise of a war has
made us all serious. If old Clamstandt had not married that
gipsy little Dugiria, I really think I should have taken a turn to
Belgrade. ”
“You should not eat so much, poppet,” drawled Charles
Annesley to the Spaniard.


## p. 1645 (#443) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1645
“Why not? ” said the little French lady, with great animation,
always ready to fight anybody's battle, provided she could get an
opportunity to talk. “Why not, Mr. Annesley? You never will
let anybody eat-I never eat myself, because every night, hav-
ing to talk so much, I am dry, dry, dry -- so I drink, drink,
drink.
It is an extraordinary thing that there is no language
which makes you so thirsty as French. I always have heard
that all the southern languages, Spanish and Italian, make you
hungry. ”
“What can be the reason ? ” seriously asked the pseudo Lady
Afy.
“Because there is so much salt in it,” said Lord Squib.
Delia,” drawled Mr. Annesley, "you look very pretty to-
night! »
"I am charmed to charm you, Mr. Annesley. Shall I tell you
what Lord Bon Mot said of you ? ”
“No, ma mignonne! I never wish to hear my own good
things. ”
"Spoiled, you should add,” said Lady Squib, "if Bon Mot be
in the case. ”
Lord Bon Mot is a most gentlemanly man,” said Delia,
indignant at an admirer being attacked. “He always wants to
be amusing. Whenever he dines out, he comes and sits with me
half an hour to catch the air of Parisian badinage. ”
“And you tell him a variety of little things? ” asked Lord
Squib, insidiously drawing out the secret tactics of Bon Mot.
Beaucoup, beaucoup,” said Delia, extending two little white
hands sparkling with gems.
“If he come in ever how
do you call it ? heavy — not that in the domps - ah! it is
that — if ever he come in the domps, he goes out always like a
soufflée. ”
“As empty, I have no doubt,” said Lady Squib.
“And as sweet, I have no doubt,” said Lord Squib; «for Del-
croix complains sadly of your excesses, Delia. ”
Mr. Delcroix complain of me! That, indeed, is too bad.
Just because I recommended Montmorency de Versailles to him
excellent customer, ever since he abuses me, merely
because Montmorency has forgot, in the hurry of going off, to
pay his little account. ”
"But he says you have got all the things,” said Lord Squib,
whose great amusement was to put Delia in a passion.
SO -
for an


## p. 1646 (#444) ###########################################

1646
LORD BEACONSFIELD
« 1
“What of that ? ” screamed the little lady. Montmorency
gave them to me. "
"Don't make such a noise," said the Bird of Paradise.
never can eat when there is a noise. St. James, continued she,
in a fretful tone, they make such a noise! ”
Annesley, keep Squib quiet. ”
"Delia, leave that young man alone. If Isidora would talk
a little
you eat a little more, I think you would be
the most agreeable little ladies I know. Poppet! put those bon-
bons in your pocket. You should never eat sugar-plums in com-
(C
more, and
pany. "
unseen
Thus talking agreeable nonsense, tasting agreeable dishes,
and sipping agreeable wines, an hour ran on. Sweetest music
from an
source ever and anon sounded, and Spiridion
swung a censer full of perfumes around the chamber. At length
the duke requested Count Frill to give them a song.
The Bird
of Paradise would never sing for pleasure, only for fame and a
slight check. The count begged to decline, and at the same
time asked for a guitar. The signora sent for hers; and his
Excellency, preluding with a beautiful simper, gave them some
slight thing to this effect:-
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a gay little girl is charming Bignetta!
She dances, she prattles,
She rides and she rattles;
But she always is charming — that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a wild little witch is charming Bignetta!
When she smiles I'm all madness;
When she frowns I'm all sadness;
But she always is smiling — that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a wicked young rogue is charming Bignetta!
She laughs at my shyness,
And flirts with his highness;
Yet still she is charming - that charming Bignetta!
Charming Bignetta! charming Bignetta!
What a dear little girl is charming Bignetta!
« Think me only a sister,”
Said she trembling; I kissed her.
What a charming young sister is - charming Bignetta !


## p. 1647 (#445) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1647
He ceased; and although
«the Ferrarese
To choicer music chimed his gay guitar
In Este's halls,
as Casti himself, or rather Mr. Rose, choicely sings, yet still his
song served its purpose, for it raised a smile.
"I wrote that for Madame Sapiepha, at the Congress of Ve-
rona,” said Count Frill. « It has been thought amusing. ”
“Madame Sapiepha! ” exclaimed the Bird of Paradise.
«What!
that pretty little woman who has such pretty caps ? ”
« The same! Ah! what caps! Mon Dieu ! what taste! what
taste!
“You like caps, then ? ” asked the Bird of Paradise, with a
sparkling eye.
“Oh! if there be anything more than other that I know most,
it is the cap. Here, voici ! ” said he, rather oddly unbuttoning
his waistcoat, "you see what lace I have got. Voici ! voici ! »
Ah! me! what lace! what lace! ) exclaimed the Bird in
rapture. "St. James, look at his lace. Come here, come here,
sit next me. Let me look at that lace. » She examined it with
great attention, then turned up her beautiful eyes with a fascinat-
ing smile. "Ah! c'est jolie, n'est-ce pas ? But you like caps. I
tell you what, you shall see my caps. Spiridion, go, mon cher,
and tell ma'amselle to bring my caps — all my caps, one of each
Set. »
In due time entered the Swiss, with the caps—all the caps -
one of each set. As she handed them in turn to her mistress,
the Bird chirped a panegyric upon each.
“That is pretty, is it not — and this also ? but this is
my
favorite. What do you think of this border ? c'est belle, cette gar-
niture ? et ce jabot, c'est tres séduisant, n'est-ce pas ? Mais voici,
the cap of Princess Lichtenstein. C'est superb, c'est mon favori.
But I also love very much this of the Duchesse de Berri. She
gave me the pattern herself. And after all, this cornette à petite
santé of Lady Blaze is a dear little thing; then, again, this coiffe
à dentelle of Lady Macaroni is quite a pet. ”
« Pass them down,” said Lord Squib, we want to look at
them. " Accordingly they were passed down.
Lord Squib put
>>
one on.


## p. 1648 (#446) ###########################################

1648
LORD BEACONSFIELD
"Do I look superb, sentimental, or only pretty ? ” asked his
lordship. The example was contagious, and most of the caps
were appropriated. No one laughed more than their mistress,
who, not having the slightest idea of the value of money, would
have given them all away on the spot; not from any good-natured
feeling, but from the remembrance that to-morrow she might
amuse half an hour buying others.
While some were stealing, and she remonstrating, the duke
clapped his hands like a caliph. The curtain at the end of the
apartment was immediately withdrawn and the ball-room stood
revealed.
It was of the same size as the banqueting-hall. Its walls
exhibited a long perspective of gilt pilasters, the frequent piers of
which were entirely of plate looking-glass, save where occasion-
ally a picture had been, as it were, inlaid in its rich frame.
Here was the Titian Venus of the Tribune, deliciously copied
by a French artist; there, the Roman Fornarina, with her deli-
cate grace, beamed like the personification of Raphael's genius.
Here Zuleikha, living in the light and shade of that magician
Guercino, in vain summoned the passions of the blooming He-
brew; and there Cleopatra, preparing for her last immortal hour,
proved by what we saw that Guido had been a lover.
The ceiling of this apartment was richly painted and richly
gilt; from it were suspended three lustres by golden cords,
which threw a softened light upon the floor of polished and curi-
ously inlaid woods. At the end of the apartment was an orches-
tra, and here the pages, under the direction of Carlstein, offered
a very efficient domestic band.
Round the room waltzed the elegant revelers. Softly and
slowly, led by their host, they glided along like spirits of air;
but each time that the duke passed the musicians, the music
became livelier, and the motion more brisk, till at length you
might have mistaken them for a college of spinning dervishes.
One by one, an exhausted couple slunk away. Some threw
themselves on a sofa, some monopolized an easy-chair; but in
twenty minutes all the dancers had disappeared. At length Pea-
cock Piggott gave a groan, which denoted returning energy, and
raised a stretching leg in air, bringing up, though most unwit-
tingly, on his foot one of the Bird's sublime and beautiful caps.
“Halloo! Piggott, armed cap au pied, I see," said Lord Squib.
This joke was a signal for general resuscitation.


## p. 1649 (#447) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1649
Here they lounged in different parties, talking on such sub-
jects as idlers ever fall upon; now and then plucking a flower -
now and then listening to the fountain — now and then lingering
over the distant music — and now and then strolling through a
small apartment which opened to their walks, and which bore the
title of the Temple of Gnidus. Here Canova's Venus breathed
an atmosphere of perfume and of light--that wonderful statue
whose full-charged eye is not very classical, to be sure - but
then, how true!
Lord Squib proposed a visit to the theatre, which he had
ordered to be lit up. To the theatre they repaired. They
rambled over every part of the house, amused themselves, to
the horror of Mr. Annesley, with a visit to the gallery, and then
collected behind the scenes. They were excessively amused
with the properties; and Lord Squib proposed they should dress
themselves. Enough champagne had been quaffed to render
any proposition palatable, and in a few minutes they were all
in costume. A crowd of queens and chambermaids, Jews and
chimney-sweeps, lawyers and charleys, Spanish dons and Irish
officers, rushed upon the stage. The little Spaniard was Alma-
viva, and fell into magnificent attitudes, with her sword and
plume. Lord Squib was the old woman of Brentford, and very
funny. Sir Lucius Grafton, Harlequin; and Darrell, Grimaldi.
The prince and the count, without knowing it, figured as watch-
men. Squib whispered Annesley that Sir Lucius O'Trigger
might appear in character, but was prudent enough to suppress
the joke.
The band was summoned, and they danced quadrilles with
infinite spirit, and finished the night, at the suggestion of Lord
Squib, by breakfasting on the stage. By the time this meal
was dispatched, the purple light of morn had broken into the
building, and the ladies proposed an immediate departure. Mrs.
Montfort and her sister were sent home in one of the duke's
carriages; and the foreign guests were requested by him to be
their escort. The respective parties drove off. Two cabriolets
lingered to the last, and finally carried away the French actress
and the Spanish dancer, Lord Darrell, and Peacock Piggott; but
whether the two gentlemen went in one and two ladies in the
other I cannot aver. I hope not.
There was at length a dead silence, and the young duke was
left to solitude and the signora!
III-104


## p. 1650 (#448) ###########################################

1650
LORD BEACONSFIELD
SQUIBS FROM THE YOUNG DUKE)
CHARLES ANNESLEY
D*
ANDY has been voted vulgar, and beau is now the word. I
doubt whether the revival will stand; and as for the ex-
ploded title, though it had its faults at first, the muse or
Byron has made it not only English, but classical. However, I
dare say I can do without either of these words at present.
Charles Annesley could hardly be called a dandy or a beau.
There was nothing in his dress, though some mysterious arrange-
ment in his costume some rare simplicity — some curious happi-
ness — always made it distinguished; there was nothing, however,
in his dress which could account for the influence which he
exercised over the manners of his contemporaries. Charles
Annesley was about thirty. He had inherited from his father, a
younger brother, a small estate; and though heir to a wealthy
earldom, he had never abused what the world called “his pros-
pects. ” Yet his establishments — his little house in Mayfair --
his horses — his moderate stud at Melton — were all unique, and
everything connected with him was unparalleled for its elegance,
its invention, and its refinement. But his manner was his magic.
His natural and subdued nonchalance, so different from the
assumed non-emotion of a mere dandy; his coldness of heart,
which was hereditary, not acquired; his cautious courage, and his
unadulterated self-love, had permitted him to mingle much with
mankind without being too deeply involved in the play of their
passions; while his exquisite sense of the ridiculous quickly
revealed those weaknesses to him which his delicate satire did
not spare, even while it refrained from wounding.
All feared,
many admired, and none hated him.
He was too powerful not
to dread, too dexterous not to admire, too superior to hate.
Perhaps the great secret of his manner was his exquisite super-
ciliousness; a quality which, of all, is the most difficult to man-
age. Even with his intimates he was never confidential, and
perpetually assumed his public character with the private coterie
which he loved to rule. On the whole, he was unlike any of the
leading men of modern days, and rather reminded one of the
fine gentlemen of our old brilliant comedy — the Dorimants, the
Bellairs, and the Mirabels.


## p. 1651 (#449) ###########################################

LORD BEACONSFIELD
1651
The FUSSY HOSTESS
MEN shrink from a fussy woman. And few can aspire to regu-
late the destinies of their species, even in so slight a point as
an hour's amusement, without rare powers. There is no greater
sin than to be trop prononcée. A want of tact is worse than a
want of virtue. Some women, it is said, work on pretty well
against the tide without the last. I never knew one who did
not sink who ever dared to sail without the first.
Loud when they should be low, quoting the wrong person,
talking on the wrong subject, teasing with notice, excruciating
with attentions, disturbing a tête-à-tête in order to make up a
dance; wasting eloquence in persuading a man to participate in
amusement whose reputation depends on his social sullenness;
exacting homage with a restless eye, and not permitting the least
worthy knot to be untwined without their divinityships' inter-
ference; patronizing the meek, anticipating the slow, intoxicating
with compliment, plastering with praise that you in return may
gild with flattery: in short, energetic without elegance, active
without grace, and loquacious without wit; mistaking bustle for
style, raillery for badinage, and noise for gayety — these are the
characters who mar the very career they think they are creating,
and who exercise a fatal influence on the destinies of all those
who have the misfortune to be connected with them.
PUBLIC SPEAKING
ELOQUENCE is the child of Knowledge. When a mind is full,
like a wholesome river, it is also clear. Confusion and obscurity
are much oftener the results of ignorance than of inefficiency.
Few are the men who cannot express their meaning when the
occasion demands the energy; as the lowest will defend their
lives with acuteness, and sometimes even with eloquence. They
are masters of their subject. Knowledge must be gained by our-
selves. Mankind may supply us with facts; but the results, even
if they agree with previous ones, must be the work of our own
mind. To make others feel, we must feel ourselves; and to feel
ourselves, we must be natural. This we can never be when we
are vomiting forth the dogmas of the schools. Knowledge is not
a mere collection of words; and it is a delusion to suppose that
thought can be obtained by the aid of any other intellect than


## p. 1652 (#450) ###########################################

1652
LORD BEACONSFIELD
our own. What is repetition, by a curious mystery, ceases to be
truth, even if it were truth when it was first heard; as the
shadow in a mirror, though it move and mimic all the actions of
vitality, is not life. When a man is not speaking or writing
from his own mind, he is as insipid company as a looking-glass.
Before a man can address a popular assembly with command,
he must know something of mankind, and he can know nothing
of mankind without he knows something of himself. Self-knowl-
edge is the property of that man whose passions have their play,
but who ponders over their results.