A Strange Story — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Science
A Strange Story — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
memorable indeed to me! The entertainment was anticipated with a lively
interest, in which even the Hill condescended to share. The Hill did
not much patronize mayors in general; but when a Mayor gave a ball for
a purpose so patriotic, and on a scale so splendid, the Hill liberally
acknowledged that Commerce was, on the whole, a thing which the Eminence
might, now and then, condescend to acknowledge without absolutely
derogating from the rank which Providence had assigned to it amongst the
High Places of earth. Accordingly, the Hill was permitted by its Queen
to honour the first magistrate of Low Town by a promise to attend
his ball. Now, as this festivity had originated in the suggestion of
Margrave, so, by a natural association of ideas, every one, in talking
of the ball, talked also of Margrave.
The Hill had at first affected to ignore a stranger whose debut had been
made in the mercantile circle of Low Town. But the Queen of the Hill now
said, sententiously, “This new man in a few days has become a Celebrity.
It is the policy of the Hill to adopt Celebrities, if the Celebrities
pay respect to the Proprieties. Dr. Fenwick is requested to procure Mr.
Margrave the advantage of being known to the Hill.”
I found it somewhat difficult to persuade Margrave to accept the Hill’s
condescending overture. He seemed to have a dislike to all societies
pretending to aristocratic distinction,--a dislike expressed with a
fierceness so unwonted, that it made one suppose he had, at some time
or other, been subjected to mortification by the supercilious airs that
blow upon heights so elevated. However, he yielded to my instances, and
accompanied me one evening to Mrs. Poyntz’s house. The Hill was encamped
there for the occasion. Mrs. Poyntz was exceedingly civil to him, and
after a few commonplace speeches, hearing that he was fond of music,
consigned him to the caressing care of Miss Brabazon, who was at
the head of the musical department in the Queen of the Hill’s
administration.
Mrs. Poyntz retired to her favourite seat near the window, inviting me
to sit beside her; and while she knitted in silence, in silence my eye
glanced towards Margrave, in the midst of the group assembled round the
piano.
Whether he was in more than usually high spirits, or whether he was
actuated by a malign and impish desire to upset the established laws of
decorum by which the gayeties of the Hill were habitually subdued into
a serene and somewhat pensive pleasantness, I know not; but it was not
many minutes before the orderly aspect of the place was grotesquely
changed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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