Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 7

to set the champagne flowing, to order an
awning, and to hire music and a linkman, and the thing is done. The
result of all this will no doubt be a party--of a sort, but of a sort far
different, however gorgeous it may be, from the splendid and
widely-advertised gatherings which the genuine Giver of Parties
organises. For in the one variety it is just possible that enjoyment may
be one of the main objects sought and attained; in the latter it is certain
that enjoyment, though it is not always absent, must yield the
precedence to social success and promotion in the scale of Society.
These are the objects that the Giver of Parties, as it is proposed to
describe her, has at heart, and to their attainment she devotes herself
with a persistent and all-embracing energy which no disappointment is
capable of daunting. The envy of her friends, the smiles and the
presence of Royalty, may be hers, but there is always some loftier
height to which she must climb before she can say to herself, "_J'y suis,
j'y reste_," and be thankful.
Her life has known many changes. Her parents were county people of
good descent and position, but of a reduced income, for which they
apparently sought compensation in an increasing family, mostly
daughters. It was necessary that she should marry young, and she
submitted to necessity by accepting the proposal of a man some ten
years her senior, who had already come to be favourably spoken off for
the success of his commercial ventures. It is needless to add that all her
relations took good care to impress upon her mind the fact that the
alliance was an honour to her husband, whose wealth, even though it
might in time rival that of the ROTHSCHILDS, could never make him

fit to be mentioned in the same breath with one who numbered among
her remoter ancestors a Baron, who had fought and bled on many fields
for King CHARLES THE FIRST. However, the marriage took place in
spite of the inequality of rank, and the much-honoured husband bore
his wife with him to London, where for a time the modest comfort of a
house in distant Bayswater satisfied them. Business prospered, and
money came pouring in. The wife, who, it must be said, had undeniable
beauty, excellent manners, and the trick of intuitively adapting herself
to any society, was taken up by a great lady who happened to see her
holding a stall at a large bazaar in which the fashionable world took
some interest. Acting upon the great lady's suggestion, she was
photographed in the becoming Tyrolese peasant's costume which she
wore as a stall-holder, and the photograph was in some mysterious way
engraved in all the illustrated papers of the following week. Her name
was enshrined in paragraphs, she was observed in the Royal Enclosure
at Ascot, she was introduced to a Royal personage who was pleased to
confer upon her the distinction of his smiles, and to mention her to the
select circle of his intimates as "a very pretty, pleasant little woman."
And thus she was started upon the thorny path of ambitious pleasure.
It is well known that the sacred fire of fashion burns--or is supposed to
burn--in Belgravia alone. Its warmth drew her irresistibly. Bayswater
became too cold to hold her, and early in the following year it was
announced that a large house in the purlieus of Grosvenor Square had
been purchased by her husband. However, she was content to climb by
degrees, and, in her first season of social brilliancy, she restricted
herself to a small and early dance, and a musical evening. At the dance,
universal admiration was excited by the lavish profusion of the flowers
with which her staircase was adorned, by the excellent quality of the
champagne, and the inexhaustible supply of oysters. At the musical
evening the music was as admirably rendered as it was completely
neglected. And at both parties only those people were present as to
whose social status and absolute "rightness" there could be no question.
Indeed the dancer, whose foot had been trodden upon at the former,
might console herself with the thought that none but a noble boot had
caused her pain; while at the latter the sounds of heavy breathing,
which mingled inharmoniously with Mlle. FALSETTI's _bravura_,

were forgiven, in consideration of the exalted rank of their producer.
Her success seemed now to be assured, and even the muttered
discontent of a neglected husband, who was foolish enough to prefer
comfort to smartness, began to subside. In the following year her
entertainments became even more splendid, and less comfortable. She
took a house at Ascot, and, triumph of triumphs! a scion of Royalty
deigned to accept her hospitality.
After