 | CHAPTER VII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge |  |
7. CHAPTER VII.
“They sit conferring—.”
Taming the Shrew.
The usual evening circle had collected in Miss Wyllys's
parlour, with the addition of Mary Van Alstyne, who had
just arrived from Poughkeepsie, and Mrs. St. Leger. Miss
Emma Taylor had gone to a concert with her good-natured
brother-in-law, and a couple of her admirers. Jane and her
sister-in-law, Adeline, were sitting together in a corner, talking
partly about their babies, partly about what these two young
matrons called “old times;” that is to say, events which had
them, however, those were “old times;” for, since then, the
hopes and fears, cares and pleasures of the two friends were
much changed.
Among the rest of the party the conversation became
more general; for Elinor had just finished a song, and Mr.
Wyllys had just beaten Mrs. Creighton at a game of chess.
“Mr. Hazlehurst, pray what have you done with my
saya y manto?” asked the pretty widow, taking a seat at the
side of Elinor, on a sofa. “Here have you been, three, four,
five days, and I have not even alluded to it, which, you must
observe is a great act of forbearance in a lady, when there is
a piece of finery in question.”
“I am really ashamed of myself for not having reported
it safe at Philadelphia, before. I would not send it to your
house, when I heard you were here, for I wished to deliver
it in person; and I did not bring it with me, because Mrs.
Hazlehurst told me it was too warm for a fashionable lady
to wear anything as heavy as black silk for the next three
months.”
“Well, of course I am very much obliged to you for the
trouble you have had with it; but I shall defer thanking you
formally, until I find out whether it is becoming or not.”
“Do you expect to make a very captivating Spaniard?”
asked Mr. Stryker.
“I shall do my best, certainly; but I shall leave you to
decide how far I succeed, Mr. Stryker. Are the Brazilian
women pretty, Mr. Hazlehurst?—what do they look like?”
“Very like Portuguese,” was the answer.
“More than the Americans look like the English?” inquired
Elinor.
“Far more,” said Harry; “but you know there is less
difference between the climates of Brazil and Portugal, than
between ours and that of England.”
“For my part,” observed Mr. Ellsworth, “I do not think
we look in the least like the English — neither men nor
of our own. I think I could pick out an American
from among a crowd of Europeans, almost as soon as I could
a Turk.”
“You always piqued yourself, Ellsworth, upon having a
quick eye for national characteristics. We used to try him
very often, when we were in Europe, Mrs. Creighton, and I
must do him the justice to say he seldom failed.”
“Oh, yes; I know all Frank's opinions on the subject,”
replied Mrs. Creighton: “it is quite a hobby with him.”
“What do you think are the physical characteristics of the
Americans, as compared with our English kinsmen?” inquired
Mr. Wyllys.
“We are a darker, a thinner, and a paler people. The
best specimens of the English have the advantage in manliness
of form and carriage; the American is superior in activity,
in the expression of intelligence and energy in the
countenance. The English peculiarities in their worst shape
are, coarseness and heaviness of form, a brutal, dull countenance;
the worst peculiarities among the Americans are, an
apparent want of substance in the form, and a cold, cunning
expression of features. I used often to wonder, when travelling
in Europe, particularly in France and Germany, at
the number of heavy forms and coarse features, which strike
one so often there, even among the women, and which are
so very uncommon in America.”
“Yes; that brutal coarseness of features, which stood for
the model of the old Satyrs, is scarcely to be met in this
country, though by no means uncommon in many parts of
Europe,” observed Hazlehurst.
“I was very much struck the other evening, at the dance,
with the appearance of the women,” continued Mr. Ellsworth.
“Not that they are so brilliant in their beauty—one
sees beautiful women in every country; but they are so
peculiarly feminine, and generally pretty, as a whole. By
room-fulls, en masse, they appear to more advantage I think,
brokenor by coarseness of face, or unmanageable awkwardness
of form.”
“Yes, you are right,” said Mr. Stryker. “There is a
vast deal of prettiness, and very little repulsive ugliness
among the women in this country. But it strikes me they
are inclining a little too much to the idea, just now, that all
the beauty in the world is collected in these United States,
which, as we all know, is rather a mistaken opinion.”
“Certainly; that would be an extremely ridiculous notion.”
“You think delicacy then, the peculiar characteristic of
American beauty?” said Mr. Wyllys.
“Yes, sir; but I could point out others, too. Brown hair
and hazel eyes are another common feature in American
beauty. If you look over the pretty women of your acquaintance,
you will find that the case I think.”
“Like Mrs. Creighton's,” said Elinor, smiling.
“No; Josephine's features are not sufficiently regular for
a beauty,” said her brother, good-naturedly.
“I shan't get a compliment from Frank, Miss Wyllys,”
replied the widow, shaking her head. “I agree with him,
though, about the brown-haired beauties; for, I once took
the trouble to count over my acquaintances, and I found a
great many that answered his description. I think it the
predominating colour among us. I am certainly included in
the brown tribe myself, and so are you, Miss Wyllys.”
“As far as the colour of my hair goes,” replied Elinor,
with a smile which seemed to say, talk on, I have no feeling
on the subject of my plain face. One or two persons present
had actually paused, thinking the conversation was taking an
unfortunate turn, as one of the ladies present was undeniably
wanting in beauty. To encourage the natural pursuit of the
subject, Elinor remarked that, “light hair and decidedly blue
eyes, like Mrs. St. Leger's, are not so very common, certainly;
nor true black hair and eyes like your's, Jane.”
“You are almost as much given to compliments, Miss
saucy thing now and then, by way of variety.”
“The saucy speeches are for your own satisfaction, no
doubt, and the compliments for that of your friends, I suppose,”
replied Elinor, smiling a little archly; for she had
very good reasons for mistrusting the sincerity of either mode
of speech from the lips of the gay widow; whom, for that
very reason, she liked much less than her brother.
“Do you really think me too severe?—wait till we are
better acquainted!”
“I shall always think you very charming,” replied Elinor,
with her usual frank smile; for, in fact, she admired Mrs.
Creighton quite as much as the rest of the world. And then
observing that Mr. Ellsworth was listening to their conversation,
she turned to him and asked, if the true golden hair,
so much admired by the Italian poets, and so often sung by
them, were still common in Italy?
“Judging from books and pictures, I should think it must
have been much more common some centuries ago than at
the present day; for, certainly, there is not one Italian woman
in a hundred, who has not very decidedly black hair and
eyes. I remember once in a translation from English into
Italian, I used the expression `grey eyes,' which diverted
my master very much: he insisted upon it, there was no
`such thing in nature;' and even after I had reminded him
of Napoleon, he would not believe the Emperor's eyes were
not black. He was a thorough Italian, of course, and knew
nothing of the northern languages, or he would have met
with the expression before.”
“Let me tell you, Ellsworth,” said Harry, after a short
pause in the conversation, “that it is very pleasant to pass an
agreeable evening in this way, chatting with old friends.
You have no idea how much I enjoy it after a three years'
exile!”
“I can readily believe it.”
“No, I don't think you understand it at all. It is true you
alone, my dear sir. You had indeed the advantage of particularly
agreeable companions with you: in Paris you had
Mrs. Creighton, and in Egypt you had your humble servant.
And then, in the next place, your mind was constantly occupied;
you lived with the past while in Italy and Greece,
and with the present in Paris. Now, at Rio, there is no past
at all, and not much of a present.”
“Is there no general society at Rio?” inquired Miss
Wyllys.
“Oh, yes; society enough, in the usual meaning of the
word. I was very fortunate in meeting with some very
agreeable people, and have really a strong regard for Manezes—a
good fellow he is, and I hope to see him here one
of these days. But they were all new acquaintances. You
cannot think how much I wanted to see a face I had known
all my life; I was positively at one time on the verge of
being home-sick.”
“You found out that you were more tender-hearted than
you had believed yourself,” said Mr. Ellsworth.
“So it seems,” replied Harry; a shade of embarrassment
crossing his face as he spoke.
“I should have thought some old acquaintance or other
would have gone straggling towards Rio, in these travelling
days,” observed Mr. Ellsworth.
“No, I was particularly unfortunate: once when the American
squadron lay at Rio for some weeks, and I had several
friends on board the Macedonian, I happened at that very
time to be absent on an excursion in the interior. For six
months, or so it did very well; it takes one as long as that to
enjoy the lovely scenery, to say nothing of the novelty; but
after admiring the bay and the Corcovado under every possible
aspect, I got at last to be heartily tired of Rio. I should
have run away, if we had not been recalled this summer.”
“You should have fallen in love,” said Mrs. Creighton.
“I don't think I succeeded in that; perhaps I did not try
very hard.”
“But is not the state of society pleasant at Rio?” inquired
Mr. Wyllys.
“Not particularly, sir; it is too much like our own for
that; something provincial lingering about it, although they
have an emperor of their own. We cannot do without the
other hemisphere yet, in spite of our self-important airs.
We Yankees have coaxed Time out of a great deal, but he is
not to be cheated for all that. People were not busy for
thousands of years in the Old World, merely to qualify them
for discovering America, whatever some of our patriots may
say on the subject.”
“Yes, you are right, Harry; I have often wished that our
people would remember what they seem to forget, that Time
has a prerogative beyond their reach. There is a wide difference
between a blind reverence for Time, and an infatuated
denial of his power; and I take it to be one of the duties of
your generation to find out the dividing line in this and other
points, and shape your practice accordingly.”
“Yes, sir; it appears to me high time that the civilized
world set about marking more distinctly a great many
boundary lines, on important moral questions; and it is to be
presumed, that with so much experience at our command,
we shall at last do something towards it. It is to be hoped
that mankind will at length learn not always to rush out of
one extreme into the other; and when they feel the evil of
one measure, not to fly for relief to its very opposite, but set
about looking for the true remedy, which is generally not so
far off.”
“You don't believe in moral homœopathy?” said Mrs.
Stanley.
“Not in the least.”
“Well, we are very much obliged to you for getting tired
of Rio,” said Mrs. Creighton; “and thinking that the gay
Court.”
“I take it for granted, however, that it was not exactly the
gay world that you regretted,” said Ellsworth.
“Not exactly, no; general society is not sufficiently perfect
in its way among us, for a man to pine after.”
“I have often thought,” observed Elinor, “that the spirit
of mere dissipation must be less excusable in this country
than in Europe. Society must have so many attractions
there—more general finish—more high accomplishment.”
“Yes; we want more of the real thing; we have smatterers
enough as it is,” replied Mr. Ellsworth.
“And then the decorations are so well got up in Europe!”
exclaimed Mrs. Creighton. “I must confess myself enough
of a woman, to be charmed with good decorations.”
“Something far better than mere decoration, however, is
requisite to make society at all agreeable,” continued Mr.
Ellsworth. “There is luxury enough among us, in eating
and drinking, dressing and furniture, for instance; and yet
what can well be more silly, more puerile, than the general
tone of conversation at common parties among us? And
how many of the most delightful soirées in Paris, are collected
in plain rooms, au second, or au troisième, with a brick
floor to stand on, and a glass of orgeat, with a bit of brioche
to eat!”
“Lots and Love—Speculation and Flirtation, are too entirely
the order of the day, and of the evening, with us,”
said Harry; “whether figuring on Change, or on a Brussels
carpet.”
“I have often been struck, myself, with the excessive silliness
of the conversation at common parties, especially what
are called young parties; though I have never seen anything
better,” said Elinor.
“Those young parties are enough to spoil any society,”
said Harry.
“Perhaps, however, you have too high an idea of such
Miss Wyllys,” observed Mr. Ellsworth.
“That may very possibly be the case.”
“There are always silly and ignorant people to be met
with everywhere,” remarked Harry; “but the difference
lies in the general character of the circle, which is not often
so insipid and so puerile in Europe.”
“It is the difference, I suppose, between a puppet-show
and genteel comedy,” said Elinor.
“Precisely, Miss Wyllys,” said Mr. Ellsworth, smiling.
“We have very pretty puppets, though,” observed Mrs.
Creighton; “quite well-dressed, and sufficiently graceful,
too; that is to say, the young lady puppets. As for the
gentlemen, I shall not attempt to defend them, en masse,
neither their grace nor their coats.'
“You won't allow us to be either pretty or well-dressed?”
said Mr. Stryker.
“Oh, everybody knows that Mr. Stryker's coat and bow
are both unexceptionable.”
“Why don't you go to work, good people, and improve
the world, instead of finding fault with it?” said Mr. Wyllys,
who was preparing for another game of chess with Mrs.
Robert Hazlehurst.
“A labour of Hercules, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Stryker,
shrugging his shoulders. “The position of a reformer is
not sufficiently graceful to suit my fancy.”
“It is fatiguing, too; it is much easier to sit still and find
fault, sir,” observed Robert Hazlehurst, smiling.
“Sauve qui peut, is my motto,” continued Mr. Stryker.
“I shall take care of myself; though I have no objection
that the rest of the world should profit by my excellent
example; they may improve on my model, if they please.”
“The fact is, that manners, and all other matters of taste,
ought to come by instinct,” said Mrs. Robert Hazlehurst;
“one soon becomes tired of being regularly tutored on such
points.”
“No doubt of that,” replied Harry; “but unfortunately,
though reading and writing come by nature, as Dogberry
says, in this country, yet it is by no means so clear that good
taste follows as a consequence.”
“Good taste never came by nature, anywhere but in old
Greece, I take it,” said Ellsworth. “In a new state of society,
such things must force themselves upon one.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Wyllys; “and you young people,
who have had so many advantages of education and leisure,
are very right to give the subject some attention, for the
sake of the community in which you live. Manners in their
best meaning, as a part of civilization, are closely connected,
at many different points, with the character and morals of
a nation. Hitherto, in this country, the subject has been too
much left to itself; but in many respects there is a good
foundation to work upon—some of our national traits are
very creditable.”
“That is true, sir,” replied Mr. Ellsworth; “and Americans
are naturally very quick in taking a hint, and in fitting
it to their own uses. They are a good-natured, sociable race,
too, neither coarse nor unwieldy in body or mind. All they
want is, a little more reflection on the subject, and a sufficiently
large number of models, to observe, and compare together;
for they are too quick and clever, not to prefer the
good to the bad, when the choice lies before them.”
“Remember too,” said Mr. Wyllys, “that if you cannot
do everything, you must not suppose you can do nothing.”
“There is one point in American manners, that is very
good,” said Harry: “among our very best people we find
a great deal of true simplicity; simplicity of the right sort;
real, not factitious.”
“Sweet simplicity, oh, la!” exclaimed Mr. Stryker. “Well,
I am a bad subject to deal with, myself. I am too old to go
to school, and I am too young yet, I flatter myself, to give
much weight to my advice. Not quite incorrigible, however,
I trust,” he added, endeavouring to smile in a natural
shall be most happy to learn from the ladies, and try to improve
under their advice. Have you no suggestions to
make, Miss Wyllys?”
“I am afraid I could not be of much use in that way.”
“There are only a thousand-and-one hints that I should
give you,” said Mrs. Creighton, laughing.
“You must be frightfully particular!” exclaimed Mr.
Stryker; “pray, what is hint No. 1?”
“Oh, I should not have time to make even a beginning;
it is growing very late, and I shall defer your education until
the next time we meet. Mr. Hazlehurst, that is my scarf, I
believe, on your chair.”
The party separated; Harry offering his arm to Mrs.
Creighton.
| CHAPTER VII. Elinor Wyllys, or, The young folk of Longbridge | |