Pink and White Tyranny: Chapter 16

Chapter 16

MRS. JOHN SEYMOUR'S PARTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

Mrs. John Seymour's party marked an era in the annals of Springdale.
Of this, you may be sure, my dear reader, when you consider that it
was projected and arranged by Mrs. Lillie, in strict counsel with her
friend Mrs. Follingsbee, who had lived in Paris, and been to balls at
the Tuileries. Of course, it was a tip-top New-York-Paris party, with
all the new, fashionable, unspeakable crinkles and wrinkles, all the
high, divine, spick and span new ways of doing things; which,
however, like the Eleusinian mysteries, being in their very nature
incommunicable except to the elect, must be left to the imagination.

A French _artiste_, whom Mrs. Follingsbee patronized as "my
confectioner," came in state to Springdale, with a retinue of
appendages and servants sufficient for a circus; took formal
possession of the Seymour mansion, and became, for the time being,
absolute dictator, as was customary in the old Roman Republic in times
of emergency.

Mr. Follingsbee was forward, fussy, and advisory, in his own peculiar
free-and-easy fashion; and Mrs. Follingsbee was instructive and
patronizing to the very last degree. Lillie had bewailed in her
sympathizing bosom John's unaccountable and most singular moral
Quixotism in regard to the wine question, and been comforted by her
appreciative discourse. Mrs. Follingsbee had a sort of indefinite
faith in French phrases for mending all the broken places in life. A
thing said partly in French became at once in her view elucidated,
even though the words meant no more than the same in English; so she
consoled Lillie as follows:--

"Oh, _ma ch�re_! I understand perfectly: your husband may be '_un peu
born�_' as they say in Paris, but still '_un homme tr�s respectable_'
(Mrs. Follingsbee here scraped her throat emphatically, just as her
French maid did),--a sublime example of the virtues; and let me tell
you, darling, you are very fortunate to get such a man. It is not
often that a woman can get an establishment like yours, and a good man
into the bargain; so, if the goodness is a little _ennuyeuse_, one
must put up with it. Then, again, people of old established standing
may do about what they like socially: their position is made. People
only say, 'Well, that is their way; the Seymours will do so and so.'
Now, we have to do twice as much of every thing to make our position,
as certain other people do. We might flood our place with champagne
and Burgundy, and get all the young fellows drunk, as we generally
do; and yet people will call our parties '_bourgeois_' and yours
'_recherch�_', if you give them nothing but tea and biscuit. Now,
there's my Dick: he respects your husband; you can see he does. In
his odious slang way, he says he's 'some,' and 'a brick;' and he's
a little anxious to please him, though he professes not to care for
anybody. Now, Dick has pretty sharp sense, after all, or he'd never
have been just where he is."

Our friend John, during these days preceding the party, the party
itself, and the clearing up after it, enacted submissively that part
of unconditional surrender which the master of the house, if well
trained, generally acts on such occasions. He resembled the prize ox,
which is led forth adorned with garlands, ribbons, and docility, to
grace a triumphal procession. He went where he was told, did as he
was bid, marched to the right, marched to the left, put on gloves and
cravat, and took them off, entirely submissive to the word of his
little general; and exhibited, in short, an edifying spectacle of that
pleasant domestic animal, a tame husband. He had to make atonement for
being a reformer, and for endeavoring to live like a Christian, by
conceding to his wife all this latitude of indulgence; and he meant to
go through it like a man and a philosopher. To be sure, in his eyes,
it was all so much unutterable bosh and nonsense; and bosh and
nonsense for which he was eventually to settle the bills: but he armed
himself with the patient reflection that all things have their end in
time,--that fireworks and Chinese lanterns, bands of music and kid
gloves, ruffs and puffs, and pinkings and quillings, and all sorts of
unspeakable eatables with French names, would ere long float down the
stream of time, and leave their record only in a few bad colds and
days of indigestion, which also time would mercifully cure.

So John steadied his soul with a view of that comfortable future, when
all this fuss should be over, and the coast cleared for something
better. Moreover, John found this good result of his patience: that he
learned a little something in a Christian way by it. Men of elevated
principle and moral honesty often treat themselves to such large
slices of contempt and indignation, in regard to the rogues of
society, as to forget a common brotherhood of pity. It is sometimes
wholesome for such men to be obliged to tolerate a scamp to the extent
of exchanging with him the ordinary benevolences of social life.

John, in discharging the duty of a host to Dick Follingsbee, found
himself, after a while, looking on him with pity, as a poor creature,
like the rich fool in the Gospels, without faith, or love, or prayer;
spending life as a moth does,--in vain attempts to burn himself up in
the candle, and knowing nothing better. In fact, after a while, the
stiff, tow-colored moustache, smart stride, and flippant air of this
poor little man struck him somewhere in the region between a smile and
a tear; and his enforced hospitality began to wear a tincture of
real kindness. There is no less pathos in moral than in physical
imbecility.

It is an observable social phenomenon that, when any family in a
community makes an advance very greatly ahead of its neighbors in
style of living or splendor of entertainments, the fact causes great
searchings of spirit in all the region round about, and abundance of
talk, wherein the thoughts of many hearts are revealed.

Springdale was a country town, containing a choice knot of the old,
respectable, true-blue, Boston-aristocracy families. Two or three
of them had winter houses in Beacon Street, and went there, after
Christmas, to enjoy the lectures, concerts, and select gayeties of
the modern Athens; others, like the Fergusons and Seymours, were in
intimate relationship with the same circle.

Now, it is well known that the real old true-blue, Simon-pure, Boston
family is one whose claims to be considered "the thing," and the only
thing, are somewhat like the claim of apostolic succession in ancient
churches. It is easy to see why certain affluent, cultivated, and
eminently well-conducted people should be considered "the thing" in
their day and generation; but why they should be considered as the
"only thing" is the point insoluble to human reason, and to be
received by faith alone; also, why certain other people, equally
affluent, cultivated, and well-conducted are _not_ "the thing" is one
of the divine mysteries, about which whoso observes Boston society
will do well not too curiously to exercise his reason.

These "true-blue" families, however, have claims to respectability;
which make them, on the whole, quite a venerable and pleasurable
feature of society in our young, topsy-turvy, American community. Some
of them have family records extending clearly back to the settlement
of Massachusetts Bay; and the family estate is still on grounds first
cleared up by aboriginal settlers. Being of a Puritan nobility, they
have an ancestral record, affording more legitimate subject of family
self-esteem than most other nobility. Their history runs back to
an ancestry of unworldly faith and prayer and self-denial, of
incorruptible public virtue, sturdy resistance of evil, and pursuit of
good.

There is also a literary aroma pervading their circles. Dim
suggestions of "The North American Review," of "The Dial," of
Cambridge,--a sort of vague "_miel-fleur_" of authorship and
poetry,--is supposed to float in the air around them; and it
is generally understood that in their homes exist tastes and
appreciations denied to less favored regions. Almost every one of them
has its great man,--its father, grandfather, cousin, or great uncle,
who wrote a book, or edited a review, or was a president of the United
States, or minister to England, whose opinions are referred to by the
family in any discussion, as good Christians quote the Bible.

It is true that, in some few instances, the _pleroma_ of aristocratic
dignity undergoes a sort of acetic fermentation, and comes out in
ungenial qualities. Now and then, at a public watering-place, a man or
woman appears no otherwise distinguished than by a remarkable talent
for being disagreeable; and it is amusing to find, on inquiry, that
this repulsiveness of demeanor is entirely on account of belonging to
an ancient family.

Such is the tendency of democracy to a general mingling of elements,
that this frigidity is deemed necessary by these good souls to prevent
the commonalty from being attracted by them, and sticking to them,
as straws and bits of paper do to amber. But more generally the
"true-blue" old families are simple and urbane in their manners;
and their pretensions are, as Miss Edgeworth says, presented rather
_intaglio_ than in cameo. Of course, they most thoroughly believe in
themselves, but in a bland and genial way. "_Noblesse oblige_" is with
them a secret spring of gentle address and social suavity. They prefer
their own set and their own ways, and are comfortably sure that what
they do not know is not worth knowing, and what they have not been in
the habit of doing is not worth doing; but still they are indulgent of
the existence of human nature outside of their own circle.

The Seymours and the Fergusons belonged to this sort of people; and,
of course, Mr. John Seymour's marriage afforded them opportunity
for some wholesome moral discipline. The Ferguson girls were frank,
social, magnanimous young women; of that class, to whom the saying or
doing of a rude or unhandsome thing by any human being was an utter
impossibility, and whose cheeks would flush at the mere idea of
asserting personal superiority over any one. Nevertheless, they trod
the earth firmly, as girls who felt that they were born to a certain
position. Judge Ferguson was a gentleman of the old school, devoted to
past ideas, fond of the English classics, and with small faith in any
literature later than Dr. Johnson. He confessed to a toleration for
Scott's novels, and had been detected by his children both laughing
and crying over the stories of Charles Dickens; for the amiable
weaknesses of human nature still remain in the best regulated mind.
To women and children, the judge was benignity itself, imitating the
Grand Monarque, who bowed even to a chambermaid. He believed in good,
orderly, respectable, old ways and entertainments, and had a quiet
horror of all that is loud or noisy or pretentious; which sometimes
made his social duties a trial to him, as was the case in regard to
the Seymour party.

The arrangements of the party, including the preparations for an
extensive illumination of the grounds, and fireworks, were on so
unusual a scale as to rouse the whole community of Springdale to a
fever of excitement; of course, the Wilcoxes and the Lennoxes were
astonished and disgusted. When had it been known that any of their set
had done any thing of the kind? How horribly out of taste! Just the
result of John Seymour's marrying into that class of society! Mrs.
Lennox was of opinion that she ought not to go. She was of the
determined and spicy order of human beings, and often, like a certain
French countess, felt disposed to thank Heaven that she generally
succeeded in being rude when the occasion required. Mrs. Lennox
regarded "snubbing" in the light of a moral duty devolving on people
of condition, when the foundations of things were in danger of being
removed by the inroads of the vulgar commonalty. On the present
occasion, Mrs. Lennox was of opinion that quiet, respectable people,
of good family, ought to ignore this kind of proceeding, and not think
of encouraging such things by their presence.

Mrs. Wilcox generally shaped her course by Mrs. Lennox: still she had
promised Letitia Ferguson to be gracious to the Seymours in their
exigency, and to call on the Follingsbees; so there was a confusion
all round. The young people of both families declared that _they_ were
going, just to see the fun. Bob Lennox, with the usual vivacity of
Young America, said he didn't "care a hang who set a ball rolling, if
only something was kept stirring." The subject was discussed when Mrs.
Lennox and Mrs. Wilcox were making a morning call upon the Fergusons.

"For my part," said Mrs. Lennox, "I'm principled on this subject.
Those Follingsbees are not proper people. They are of just that
vulgar, pushing class, against which I feel it my duty to set my face
like a flint; and I'm astonished that a man like John Seymour should
go into relations with them. You see it puts all his friends in a most
embarrassing position."

"Dear Mrs. Lennox," said Rose Ferguson, "indeed, it is not Mr.
Seymour's fault. These persons are invited by his wife."

"Well, what business has he to allow his wife to invite them? A man
should be master in his own house."

"But, my dear Mrs. Lennox," said Mrs. Ferguson, "such a pretty young
creature, and just married! of course it would be unhandsome not to
allow her to have her friends."

"Certainly," said Judge Ferguson, "a gentleman cannot be rude to his
wife's invited guests; for my part, I think Seymour is putting the
best face he can on it; and we must all do what we can to help him. We
shall all attend the Seymour party."

"Well," said Mrs. Wilcox, "I think we shall go. To be sure, it is not
what I should like to do. I don't approve of these Follingsbees. Mr.
Wilcox was saying, this morning, that his money was made by frauds on
the government, which ought to have put him in the State Prison."

"Now, I say," said Mrs. Lennox, "such people ought to be put
down socially: I have no patience with their airs. And that Mrs.
Follingsbee, I have heard that she was a milliner, or shop-girl, or
some such thing; and to see the airs she gives herself! One would
think it was the Empress Eugenie herself, come to queen it over us in
America. I can't help thinking we ought to take a stand. I really do."

"But, dear Mrs. Lennox, we are not obliged to cultivate further
relations with people, simply from exchanging ordinary civilities with
them on one evening," said Judge Ferguson.

"But, my dear sir, these pushing, vulgar, rich people take advantage
of every opening. Give them an inch, and they will take an ell," said
Mrs. Lennox. "Now, if I go, they will be claiming acquaintance with me
in Newport next summer. Well, I shall cut them,--dead."

"Trust you for that," said Miss Letitia, laughing; "indeed, Mrs.
Lennox, I think you may go wherever you please with perfect safety.
People will never saddle themselves on you longer than you want them;
so you might as well go to the party with the rest of us."

"And besides, you know," said Mrs. Wilcox, "all our young people will
go, whether we go or not. Your Tom was at my house yesterday; and he
is going with my girls: they are all just as wild about it as they can
be, and say that it is the greatest fun that has been heard of this
summer."

In fact, there was not a man, woman, or child, in a circle of fifteen
miles round, who could show shade or color of an invitation, who was
not out in full dress at Mrs. John Seymour's party. People in a city
may pick and choose their entertainments, and she who gives a party
there may reckon on a falling off of about one-third, for various
other attractions; but in the country, where there is nothing else
stirring, one may be sure that not one person able to stand on his
feet will be missing. A party in a good old sleepy, respectable
country place is a godsend. It is equal to an earthquake, for
suggesting materials of conversation; and in so many ways does it
awaken and vivify the community, that one may doubt whether, after
all, it is not a moral benefaction, and the giver of it one to be
ranked in the noble army of martyrs.

Everybody went. Even Mrs. Lennox, when she had sufficiently swallowed
her moral principles, sent in all haste to New York for an elegant
spick and span new dress from Madame de Tullegig's, expressly for the
occasion. Was she to be outshone by unprincipled upstarts? Perish the
thought! It was treason to the cause of virtue, and the standing order
of society. Of course, the best thing to be done is to put certain
people down, if you can; but, if you cannot do that, the next best
thing is to outshine them in their own way. It may be very naughty
for them to be so dressy and extravagant, and very absurd, improper,
immoral, unnecessary, and in bad taste; but still, if you cannot help
it, you may as well try to do the same, and do a little more of it.
Mrs. Lennox was in a feverish state till all her trappings came from
New York. The bill was something stunning; but, then, it was voted by
the young people that she had never looked so splendidly in her life;
and she comforted herself with marking out a certain sublime distance
and reserve of manner to be observed towards Mrs. Seymour and the
Follingsbees.

The young people, however, came home delighted. Tom, aged twenty-two,
instructed his mother that Follingsbee was a brick, and a real jolly
fellow; and he had accepted an invitation to go on a yachting cruise
with him the next month. Jane Lennox, moreover, began besetting her
mother to have certain details in their house rearranged, with an eye
to the Seymour glorification.

"Now, Jane dear, that's just the result of allowing you to visit in
this flash, vulgar genteel society," said the troubled mamma.

"Bless your heart, mamma, the world moves on, you know; and we must
move with it a little, or be left behind. For my part, I'm perfectly
ashamed of the way we let things go at our house. It really is not
respectable. Now, I like Mrs. Follingsbee, for my part: she's clever
and amusing. It was fun to hear all about the balls at the Tuileries,
and the opera and things in Paris. Mamma, when are we going to Paris?"

"Oh! I don't know, my dear; you must ask your father. He is very
unwilling to go abroad."

"Papa is so slow and conservative in his notions!" said the young
lady. "For my part, I cannot see what is the use of all this talk
about the Follingsbees. He is good-natured and funny; and, I am sure,
I think she's a splendid woman: and, by the way, she gave me the
address of lots of places in New York where we can get French things.
Did you notice her lace? It is superb; and she told me where lace just
like it could be bought one-third less than they sell at Stewart's."

Thus we see how the starting-out of an old, respectable family in any
new ebullition of fancy and fashion is like a dandelion going to seed.
You have not only the airy, fairy globe; but every feathery particle
thereof bears a germ which will cause similar feather bubbles all over
the country; and thus old, respectable grass-plots become, in time,
half dandelion. It is to be observed that, in all questions of life
and fashion, "the world and the flesh," to say nothing of the third
partner of that ancient firm, have us at decided advantage. It is easy
to see the flash of jewelry, the dazzle of color, the rush and glitter
of equipage, and to be dizzied by the babble and gayety of fashionable
life; while it is not easy to see justice, patience, temperance,
self-denial. These are things belonging to the invisible and the
eternal, and to be seen with other eyes than those of the body.

Then, again, there is no one thing in all the items which go to make
up fashionable extravagance, which, taken separately and by itself, is
not in some point of view a good or pretty or desirable thing; and so,
whenever the forces of invisible morality begin an encounter with the
troops of fashion and folly, the world and the flesh, as we have just
said, generally have the best of it.

It may be very shocking and dreadful to get money by cheating and
lying; but when the money thus got is put into the forms of yachts,
operas, pictures, statues, and splendid entertainments, of which you
are freely offered a share if you will only cultivate the acquaintance
of a sharper, will you not then begin to say, "Everybody is going,
why not I? As to countenancing Dives, why he is countenanced; and my
holding out does no good. What is the use of my sitting in my corner
and sulking? Nobody minds me." Thus Dives gains one after another to
follow his chariot, and make up his court.

Our friend John, simply by being a loving, indulgent husband, had
come into the position, in some measure, of demoralizing the public
conscience, of bringing in luxury and extravagance, and countenancing
people who really ought not to be countenanced. He had a sort of
uneasy perception of this fact; yet, at each particular step, he
seemed to himself to be doing no more than was right or reasonable. It
was a fact that, through all Springdale, people were beginning to be
uneasy and uncomfortable in houses that used to seem to them nice
enough, and ashamed of a style of dress and entertainment and living
that used to content them perfectly, simply because of the changes of
style and living in the John-Seymour mansion.

Of old, the Seymour family had always been a bulwark on the side of
a temperate self-restraint and reticence in worldly indulgence; of
a kind that parents find most useful to strengthen their hands when
children are urging them on to expenses beyond their means: for they
could say, "The Seymours are richer than we are, and you see they
don't change their carpets, nor get new sofas, nor give extravagant
parties; and they give simple, reasonable, quiet entertainments,
and do not go into any modern follies." So the Seymours kept up the
Fergusons, and the Fergusons the Seymours; and the Wilcoxes and the
Lennoxes encouraged each other in a style of quiet, reasonable living,
saving money for charity, and time for reading and self-cultivation,
and by moderation and simplicity keeping up the courage of less
wealthy neighbors to hold their own with them.

The John-Seymour party, therefore, was like the bursting of a great
dam, which floods a whole region. There was not a family who had not
some trouble with the inundation, even where, like Rose and Letitia
Ferguson, they swept it out merrily, and thought no more of it.

"It was all very pretty and pleasant, and I'm glad it went off so
well," said Rose Ferguson the next day; "but I have not the smallest
desire to repeat any thing of the kind. We who live in the country,
and have such a world of beautiful things around us every day, and so
many charming engagements in riding, walking, and rambling, and so
much to do, cannot afford to go into this sort of thing: we really
have not time for it."

"That pretty creature," said Mrs. Ferguson, speaking of Lillie, "is
really a charming object. I hope she will settle down now to domestic
life. She will soon find better things to care for, I trust: a baby
would be her best teacher. I am sure I hope she will have one."

"A baby is mamma's infallible recipe for strengthening the character,"
said Rose, laughing.

"Well, as the saying is, they bring love with them," said Mrs.
Ferguson; "and love always brings wisdom."

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