Venetia Part 29

'He dines here?'

'To be sure. I am reading his new poem; it will not be published till to-morrow.'

'Is it good?'

'Good! What crude questions you do always ask, Henry!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'Good! Of course it is good. It is something better than good.'

'But I mean is it as good as his other things? Will it make as much noise as his last thing?'

'Thing! Now, Henry, you know very well that if there be anything I dislike in the world, it is calling a poem a thing.'

'Well, my dear, you know I am no judge of poetry. But if you are pleased, I am quite content. There is a knock. Some of your friends.

I am off. I say, Gertrude, be kind to old Masham, that is a dear creature!'

Her ladys.h.i.+p extended her hand, to which his lords.h.i.+p pressed his lips, and just effected his escape as the servant announced a visitor, in the person of Mr. Horace Pole.

'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole, I am quite exhausted,' said her ladys.h.i.+p; 'I am reading Cadurcis' new poem; it will not he published till to-morrow, and it really has destroyed my nerves. I have got people to dinner to-day, and I am sure I shall not be able to encounter them.'

'Something outrageous, I suppose,' said Mr. Pole, with a sneer. 'I wish Cadurcis would study Pope.'

'Study Pope! My dear Mr. Pole, you have no imagination.'

'No, I have not, thank Heaven!' drawled out Mr. Pole.

'Well, do not let us have a quarrel about Cadurcis,' said Lady Monteagle. 'All you men are jealous of him.'

'And some of you women, I think, too,' said Mr. Pole.

Lady Monteagle faintly smiled.

'Poor Cadurcis!' she exclaimed; 'he has a very hard life of it. He complains bitterly that so many women are in love with him. But then he is such an interesting creature, what can he expect?'

'Interesting!' exclaimed Mr. Pole. 'Now I hold he is the most conceited, affected fellow that I ever met,' he continued with unusual energy.

'Ah! you men do not understand him,' said Lady Monteagle, shaking her head. 'You cannot,' she added, with a look of pity.

'I cannot, certainly,' said Mr. Pole, 'or his writings either. For my part I think the town has gone mad.'

'Well, you must confess,' said her ladys.h.i.+p, with a glance of triumph, 'that it was very lucky for us that I made him a Whig.'

'I cannot agree with you at all on that head,' said Mr. Pole. 'We certainly are not very popular at this moment, and I feel convinced that a connection with a person who attracts so much notice as Cadurcis unfortunately does, and whose opinions on morals and religion must be so offensive to the vast majority of the English public, must ultimately prove anything but advantageous to our party.'

'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole,' said her ladys.h.i.+p, in a tone of affected deprecation, 'think what a genius he is!'

'We have very different ideas of genius, Lady Monteagle, I suspect,'

said her visitor.

'You cannot deny,' replied her ladys.h.i.+p, rising from her rec.u.mbent posture, with some animation, 'that he is a poet?'

'It is difficult to decide upon our contemporaries,' said Mr. Pole dryly.

'Charles Fox thinks he is the greatest poet that ever existed,' said her ladys.h.i.+p, as if she were determined to settle the question.

'Because he has written a lampoon on the royal family,' rejoined Mr.

Pole.

'You are a very provoking person,' said Lady Monteagle; 'but you do not provoke me; do not flatter yourself you do.'

'That I feel to be an achievement alike beyond my power and my ambition,' replied Mr. Pole, slightly bowing, but with a sneer.

'Well, read this,' said Lady Monteagle, 'and then decide upon the merits of Cadurcis.'

Mr. Pole took the extended volume, but with no great willingness, and turned over a page or two and read a pa.s.sage here and there.

'Much the same as his last effusion, I think' he observed, as far as I can judge from so cursory a review. Exaggerated pa.s.sion, bombastic language, egotism to excess, and, which perhaps is the only portion that is genuine, mixed with common-place scepticism and impossible morals, and a sort of vague, dreamy philosophy, which, if it mean anything, means atheism, borrowed from his idol, Herbert, and which he himself evidently does not comprehend.'

'Monster!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, with a mock a.s.sumption of indignation, 'and you are going to dine with him here to-day. You do not deserve it.'

'It is a reward which is unfortunately too often obtained by me,'

replied Mr. Pole. 'One of the most annoying consequences of your friend's popularity, Lady Monteagle, is that there is not a dinner party where one can escape him. I met him yesterday at Fanshawe's. He amused himself by eating only biscuits, and calling for soda water, while we quaffed our Burgundy. How very original! What a thing it is to be a great poet!'

'Perverse, provoking mortal!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'And on what should a poet live? On coa.r.s.e food, like you coa.r.s.e mortals? Cadurcis is all spirit, and in my opinion his diet only makes him more interesting.'

'I understand,' said Mr. Pole, 'that he cannot endure a woman to eat at all. But you are all spirit, Lady Monteagle, and therefore of course are not in the least inconvenienced. By-the-bye, do you mean to give us any of those charming little suppers this season?'

'I shall not invite you,' replied her ladys.h.i.+p; 'none but admirers of Lord Cadurcis enter this house.'

'Your menace effects my instant conversion,' replied Mr. Pole. 'I will admire him as much as you desire, only do not insist upon my reading his works.'

'I have not the slightest doubt you know them by heart,' rejoined her ladys.h.i.+p.

Mr. Pole smiled, bowed, and disappeared; and Lady Monteagle sat down to write a billet to Lord Cadurcis, to entreat him to be with her at five o'clock, which was at least half an hour before the other guests were expected. The Monteagles were considered to dine ridiculously late.

CHAPTER II.

Marmion Herbert, sprung from one of the most ill.u.s.trious families in England, became at an early age the inheritor of a great estate, to which, however, he did not succeed with the prejudices or opinions usually imbibed or professed by the cla.s.s to which he belonged. While yet a boy, Marmion Herbert afforded many indications of possessing a mind alike visionary and inquisitive, and both, although not in an equal degree, sceptical and creative. Nature had gifted him with precocious talents; and with a temperament essentially poetic, he was nevertheless a great student. His early reading, originally by accident and afterwards by an irresistible inclination, had fallen among the works of the English freethinkers: with all their errors, a profound and vigorous race, and much superior to the French philosophers, who were after all only their pupils and their imitators. While his juvenile studies, and in some degree the predisposition of his mind, had thus prepared him to doubt and finally to challenge the propriety of all that was established and received, the poetical and stronger bias of his mind enabled him quickly to supply the place of everything he would remove and destroy; and, far from being the victim of those frigid and indifferent feelings which must ever be the portion of the mere doubter, Herbert, on the contrary, looked forward with ardent and sanguine enthusiasm to a glorious and ameliorating future, which should amply compensate and console a misguided and unhappy race for the miserable past and the painful and dreary present. To those, therefore, who could not sympathise with his views, it will be seen that Herbert, in attempting to fulfil them, became not merely pa.s.sively noxious from his example, but actively mischievous from his exertions. A mere sceptic, he would have been perhaps merely pitied; a sceptic with a peculiar faith of his own, which he was resolved to promulgate, Herbert became odious. A solitary votary of obnoxious opinions, Herbert would have been looked upon only as a madman; but the moment he attempted to make proselytes he rose into a conspirator against society.

Young, irresistibly prepossessing in his appearance, with great eloquence, crude but considerable knowledge, an ardent imagination and a subtle mind, and a generous and pa.s.sionate soul, under any circ.u.mstances he must have obtained and exercised influence, even if his Creator had not also bestowed upon him a spirit of indomitable courage; but these great gifts of nature being combined with accidents of fortune scarcely less qualified to move mankind, high rank, vast wealth, and a name of traditionary glory, it will not be esteemed surprising that Marmion Herbert, at an early period, should have attracted around him many enthusiastic disciples.

At Christchurch, whither he repaired at an unusually early age, his tutor was Doctor Masham; and the profound respect and singular affection with which that able, learned, and amiable man early inspired his pupil, for a time controlled the spirit of Herbert; or rather confined its workings to so limited a sphere that the results were neither dangerous to society nor himself. Perfectly comprehending and appreciating the genius of the youth entrusted to his charge, deeply interested in his spiritual as well as worldly welfare, and strongly impressed with the importance of enlisting his pupil's energies in favour of that existing order, both moral and religious, in the truth and indispensableness of which he was a sincere believer, Doctor Masham omitted no opportunity of combating the heresies of the young inquirer; and as the tutor, equally by talent, experience, and learning, was a competent champion of the great cause to which he was devoted, his zeal and ability for a time checked the development of those opinions of which he witnessed the menacing influence over Herbert with so much fear and anxiety. The college life of Marmion Herbert, therefore, pa.s.sed in ceaseless controversy with his tutor; and as he possessed, among many other n.o.ble qualities, a high and philosophic sense of justice, he did not consider himself authorised, while a doubt remained on his own mind, actively to promulgate those opinions, of the propriety and necessity of which he scarcely ever ceased to be persuaded. To this cause it must be mainly attributed that Herbert was not expelled the university; for had he pursued there the course of which his cruder career at Eton had given promise, there can be little doubt that some flagrant outrage of the opinions held sacred in that great seat of orthodoxy would have quickly removed him from the salutary sphere of their control.

Herbert quitted Oxford in his nineteenth year, yet inferior to few that he left there, even among the most eminent, in cla.s.sical attainments, and with a mind naturally profound, practised in all the arts of ratiocination. His general knowledge also was considerable, and he was a proficient in those scientific pursuits which were then rare. Notwithstanding his great fortune and position, his departure from the university was not a signal with him for that abandonment to the world, and that unbounded self-enjoyment naturally so tempting to youth. On the contrary, Herbert shut himself up in his magnificent castle, devoted to solitude and study. In his splendid library he consulted the sages of antiquity, and conferred with them on the nature of existence and of the social duties; while in his laboratory or his dissecting-room he occasionally flattered himself he might discover the great secret which had perplexed generations. The consequence of a year pa.s.sed in this severe discipline was unfortunately a complete recurrence to those opinions that he had early imbibed, and which now seemed fixed in his conviction beyond the hope or chance of again faltering. In politics a violent republican, and an advocate, certainly a disinterested one, of a complete equality of property and conditions, utterly objecting to the very foundation of our moral system, and especially a strenuous antagonist of marriage, which he taught himself to esteem not only as an unnatural tie, but as eminently unjust towards that softer s.e.x, who had been so long the victims of man; discarding as a mockery the received revelation of the divine will; and, if no longer an atheist, subst.i.tuting merely for such an outrageous dogma a subtle and shadowy Platonism; doctrines, however, which Herbert at least had acquired by a profound study of the works of their great founder; the pupil of Doctor Masham at length deemed himself qualified to enter that world which he was resolved to regenerate; prepared for persecution, and steeled even to martyrdom.

But while the doctrines of the philosopher had been forming, the spirit of the poet had not been inactive. Loneliness, after all, the best of Muses, had stimulated the creative faculty of his being.

Wandering amid his solitary woods and glades at all hours and seasons, the wild and beautiful apparitions of nature had appealed to a sympathetic soul. The stars and winds, the pensive sunset and the sanguine break of morn, the sweet solemnity of night, the ancient trees and the light and evanescent flowers, all signs and sights and sounds of loveliness and power, fell on a ready eye and a responsive ear. Gazing on the beautiful, he longed to create it. Then it was that the two pa.s.sions which seemed to share the being of Herbert appeared simultaneously to a.s.sert their sway, and he resolved to call in his Muse to the a.s.sistance of his Philosophy.