The perils of fashion

Chapter I

" J'ai du bien, je suis jeune, et sors d'une maison Qui se peut dire noble avec quelque raison ; Et je crois, par le rang que me donne ma race, Qu'il est fort peu d'emplois dont je ne sois en passe Je suis assez adroit ; j'ai bon air, bonne mine, Les dents belles surtout, et la taille fort fine. Quant a, se mettre bien, je crois, sans me flatter, Qu'on seroit mal venu de me le disputer. Je me vois dans l'estime autant qu'on y puisse etre Fort aime du beau sexe, et bien aupres du maitre." MOLIERE Philip Leverton was the only son of Viscount Leverton, at the distant period at which this history commences, a Colonel in VOL. I. B the Guards, Lord of the Bedchamber to George III., and a gay and handsome widower. The son reaped from that paternity, all the advantages it had been capable of dispensing; a first-rate education, consisting, in the Vis count's opinion, of a series of gentlemanly and accomplished private tutors, much foreign travel, and influential introduction into the best circles, and a post in the Foreign Office, which brought £800 a year to his privy purse.

As regarded finance, this was all that Lord Leverton could do for his son : for during the sixty years his life had run, his best endeavours seemed to have been used to dispense his ow7n patrimony. WeU had he succeeded ; and with the exception of £1000 a year, secured as a dowry on all the Lady Levertons, past and to come, and only to be enjoyed by the Viscounts in default of Viscountesses, his income consisted merely of a Colonel's pay, and the salary appertaining to his appointment in the household. The young Phdip had been early taught that he must make his own fortune. This performance was generaUy executed by those in his position of life, by stringing together as many sinecures as could be obtained, under a ministry who used them as freely, as we, in these days, do mendicity tickets, consolidating these little advantages by a rich marriage.

But Phdip Leverton's bent lay not that way. True to the superficial character of his education, and to the perfect notions it had given him of enjoyment, and the means of attaining it, he loved better to linger among the brilliant crowds at Devonshire House, and the dissipated circles of certain Whig coteries, than press towards any opening to fortune. And, as for marriage with any but the most exquisite and idolized of the beauties who then flourished, his whole blood curdled at the bare idea ; with a tincture of romance in his disposition, he courted rather the dangers and difficulties which attended the love-making to the wives B of others, than safely and soberly seeking the hand of some wealthy spinster for himself. Though they rarely met, enough of his son's irregularities and wasted opportunities reached the Viscount's ear, to make him at length consider that a removal from England was desirable.

He set about in right earnest to effect it; and by dint of some httle courting and much manœuvring, the post of attache to our Embassy at the Court of St. Petersburg was offered to his son. It squared exactly with young Leverton's wishes at the time ; not only by enabhng him to break off with a good grace some loves which were becoming em barrassing, but also because it would enable him better to economize his Foreign Office pay, which, in those gentlemanly days of official liberality, he retained, though serving else where. Furnished with strong letters of recom mendation to aU of weight or fashion, Philip set out for the city of the Czar; an event which proved a curious epoch in his life. Contrary to aU bygone experiences, he had resided but a short time in the Imperial capital, when he found that he was actuaUy a person of consequence ; a character his best London friends would never have thought of ascribing to him.

However, a certain diplo matic capacity, and an intimate knowledge of the continental languages, put him as much above the ordinary rank of blundering and idle attaches in his official position, as did his great savoir faire in aU the prettinesses of life, in the palaces of the proud, but then barbarous Mus covites. The consequences were, that he would have led an infinitely more dissipated life at St. Petersburg than he did in London, but that his inteUigence and influence rendered him eligible for undertaking one or two delicate missions. These for a time removed him from the capital ; and not only proved lucrative, but gave him a name in some few of the European corps diplomatiques. Leverton had been about two years absent from England, when, owing to his personal credit in the Imperial Cabinet, he was requested to undertake a special and secret mission to the south of Russia ; in which, as an Englishman, it was thought that his services would be more efficient, while also proving to the resident minister that no under hand dealings were contemplated, adverse to the interests of the British Government.

Winter, with its retinue of clouds and snow storms, was stiU reigning on the banks of the Neva, when he commenced his long and dreary journey ; but the dominion of spring had al ready asserted itself, ere the attache had reached the more genial south. On the banks of the River Kuban lies the little vdlage of Mechastovskoy. Of scanty limits, and with its few habitations embosomed among the oak-trees that surround it, it is stdl, from its position on the river, an important military post, favourable to the constant lookout w7hich the Cossacks of the Black Sea are obliged to keep on their troublesome neighbours, the Circassians. The evening that Leverton entered the little viUage was a moment favour able for the setting off of its quiet attractions. The steppes spread afar to the right, like a verdant ocean, whose equality was only inter rupted by the tumuli, that here and there rise on its surface.

On the left flowed the rapid river, its broken banks adorned with oaks and wiUow-trees, while the wild raspberry, and several blooming shrubs, gave an appearance of richness most agreeable to the eye, fatigued by the perpetual monotony of the plains. Beyond the marshes, on the Cir cassian side of the Kuban, the whole craggy and lofty ridge of the Caucasian mountains met the view, tinged with a rosy radiance by the setting sun. Seated beneath the shade of a dwarf oak, on a turf fragrant with aromatic herbs, in his enjoyment of the view before him, Leverton forgot to marvel at the length of time which elapsed, ere his carriage and horses foUowed him from the hut, where the Cossack conductor had stayed for an hour's repose. The day had been unusuaUy sultry, and there was a silence in the air, an absence of aU human sound, which seemed to teU of the lassitude left by tod beneath a glowing sky, when even the cooler hours of evening bring not the villagers to their usual gathering and merriment.

This was the more remarkable, as in other vdlages through which his route had lain, the intended campaign against the Circassians had given a bustle of war, a " note of preparation," not to be mistaken. But here aU was still. No heart's laugh — no low murmur of rustic gossipry met the ear ; and in this quiet, so near the habitations of man, there would have been something mournful, but for the gay aspect of the groves around, the refreshing sound of the swift-flowing waters of the Kuban, the busy hum of innumerable insects, and the shriU neighing of some beautiful horses, tethered here and there on the plain beyond. Suddenly the half doze in which the traveller was indulging was interrupted by the appear ance near him of a young girl of a loveliness of so mournful and touching a character, it seemed to place a stronger speU on the feelings than did the regularity of her features, and extraordinary symmetry of her form.

She was evidently not a Cossack female ; as, instead of the Indian handkerchief folded hke a turban, which usuaUy formed their head-dress, she wore the little em broidered calotte of the Greek women, at the back of her head, from which fell tw7o long braids of dark and silky hair. A noble and elevated forehead, delicately arched eyebrows, a straight nose, gently curving nostrds, a short upper lip, slightly unclosed from the full crimson one beneath, all spoke of that land where Phidias had found and immortalized his models. Besides these proofs of her origin, the Cossack tunic was replaced by the short jacket worn b by the Greek islanders ; a variously tinted sash with fringed ends encircled her slender waist ; whde little embroidered slippers betrayed a slight and fairy ankle ; a charm, or possibly the absence of it, which the Cossack damsels usuaUy hid beneath a yellow boot.

Concealed by the low branches of the oak, Leverton remained in sdent observation of the Greek. She had paused in the path she had chosen, and stood Ustening with unclosed lips. At length the light and irregular steps of a horse w7ere heard approaching, and a young Cossack chief leading a slight and bounding steed over the irregularities of the path, suddenly stood before her. There was much of beauty and manly vigour in the young warrior ; but there was also a pallid cheek and troubled brow ; and Leverton observed, that with a suddenly averted gaze and a compressed lip, he seemed bent on passing the Greek without noticing her, untd with a proud and graceful movement she motioned him to stop. He obeyed her sign, and with a glance of intense earnestness seemed to await her will. There was a moment's pause ; untd, at length, in the simple dialect of the country, she said: " Leave me not as you now leave me : for my sake — for your own sake, stay."

A gleam of hope flashed in his eyes ; and he said hastdy : " On one condition, lone." " And that is ?" she asked. " That you never see him more." " Impossible !" ejaculated the Greek. " Then we part for ever," was the reply, and he passed on. The poor girl turned to retrace her steps, and thus her countenance was hidden from further observation ; but the Cossack gazed after her with looks of mingled love, rage, sorrow7, and reproach. There was also a slight expression of uncertainty ; but it was of short duration ; and springing to the back of his curvetting steed, he passed in an instant out of sight. This was evidently rather a serious love quarrel ; and the Quixotic idea presented itself to the mind of the attache, that a third person might possibly effect a reconciliation between these two good-looking people; however, the approach of his carriage drove aU his chivalry away : and recoUecting that the important des patches he was conveying were not to be delayed, he stepped into his caleche, trusting that the love feud would subside, as those things usually do.

As the carriage proceeded, Leverton again overtook the Tchernomoski, — as the Cossacks of the Euxine are sometimes caUed,— who, mounted on his beautiful courser, and habited in the picturesque costume of his tribe, was a most striking figure, even to one fresh from St. Petersburg, at that time the very depot for fancy dresses. His vest was of embroidered blue cloth, his breast was covered with gold chains, and a sdken sash, bound round his waist, sustained pistols of curious workmanship ; while from the powder flask, which hung from one of the chains, a variety of coins and trinkets were suspended. A Turkish sabre hung from his side, in a sheath richly embossed with gold. His boots were of yeUow leather ; and a cap of fine black Tahtarian wool, costly only from its material, was the plainest part of this theatrical costume.

He was evidently equipped for war ; and, as Leverton guessed, formed one of the band which each viUage was to furnish for the expedition against the Circassians — an expedi tion which the despatches of the attache were, however, designed to delay, if not entirely set aside. The Cossack scarcely noticed the carriage, though for some little time they pursued the same route. He seemed absorbed in deep and passionate reflections, betrayed by his worn, yet expressive countenance, which, with the excessive beauty of his features, was now completely shewn, from his having taken the heavy Tah tarian cap from his head. Leverton then perceived that distinctive mark of the Tcher nomoski, the braided lock. This singular characteristic grows from the crowm of the head, and passes behind the right ear. It is worn openly by the Cossack peasant, but is partly concealed by those of a higher grade, by the clustering curls of their dark hah, though aU wear it with a sort of religious veneration.

In times past, a Tchernomoski would rather have parted with life itself, than with this badge of the tribe to which they belong, and which distinguishes the Cossack of the Black Sea from every other in the Russian empire. The quiescent mood in which the young chief had for some time ridden, now suddenly forsook him, and vehemently spurring the beautiful creature which bore him, he set off at full speed, appearing to occupy himself in a series of warlike exercises. Leverton was in intent observation of him, and so must have been the driver, who clumsily enough managed to overturn the carriage in a grip in the road, which his wandering vision had not perceived. This put aU Greeks and Cossacks at once out of the attache's thoughts ; and with a broken wheel and sprained wrist he re-entered Mecha stovskoy, just two hours after he had left it.

The dirty hut where the horses had previously rested, proved the only hostelry in the viUage, and it was too late to seek a private residence — the usual resource of traveUers in these remote districts; but fatigue, and an aching limb, cured him of much superfinery, and after sending off a Cossack courier with the despatches, which it was necessary should reach Taganrog, without the delay which the broken carriage would occasion, and solacing his arm with a fomentation of warm water, Leverton sought repose in the only room which could be allotted him. However, a night's rest on the dirty sheep-skins offered for a bed, produced no brUliant results, and he awoke feverish and unrefreshed. Sending to the carriage for his medicine chest, he administered to himself a saline draught, and w7as not a little amused by the astonishment which a savage-looking female, half hostess, half cantonniere, exhibited at the magical effervescence produced by the admix ture.

Probably a rumour of the wonders of this compound, or the scientific appearance of the medicine chest, spread in the viUage ; for about an hour afterwards, a man was introduced into Leverton's room, who, coming from the commandant of the smaU fort attached to the viUage, begged his assistance, and that of his medicine chest, to aUeviate the condition of a captive Circassian, who there lay dying. Leverton obeyed the summons. On his passage to the fort, he learnt that the sufferer for whom his services were required, had been taken prisoner some days before, in a desperate encounter with a band of brave Cossacks. It appeared that there was much anxiety to pre serve this person's life; for, being a chief of high rank, he was so far a commendable offering to the Imperial Government, and the general then in command of the Kuban district had intimated to all the fortresses the value of such living trophies.

On arriving at the fort, Leverton was ushered into a low arched room, of which the smaU grated window gave token of its being a prison : in every other particular it had much the appearance of being a very damp cellar. However, the small grated aperture did all the regulation work of prison windows in pictorial representa tions, that is, it kept the principal part of the room in obscurity, throwing a bright stream of light on the captive and those around him. Leverton's taste aud habits had taken him much where the best specimens of humanity flourished ; but never in all the courtly scenes, where he had assisted, had he ever seen such surpassing beauty as the form of the suffering Circassian now presented to him. We are told that the beasts of the field look with peculiar reverence on the human form ; and it was with something of what one might fancy their im pressions, that he regarded the captive chief.

He learnt, for the first time, to comprehend the fuU force of the hacknied expression, " the human form divine." There it was before him : there, in the air of command given by the lofty brow7 — there, in the deep meaning of those still, yet lustrous eyes — there, in the expression of power given by the muscular throat, the wide chest — in the majesty which symmetry of feature, and mildness of countenance always lend. Besides all this, there was that something which the Enghsh are so prone to talk about and caU, " the air of a gentleman." It is a strange expression uttered in connection with that glorious Circassian ; and yet the courteous inclination of the head as he first perceived the attache — the gentle, yet princely movement with his hand, which signed to the man beside him to give place, was a condensation of that nameless charm usuaUy ascribed to high breed ing, and the habitude of courtly society.

His age was apparently fifty, but that amount of years had taken nothing from the perfection of his person. Michael Angelo might have dreamt of such when he pourtrayed his Moses. It was, in fact, the aspiring semblance of a God, but, alas ! — at the same time — a suffering, dying mortal. They had recently extracted the iron point of a lance from the side of the Circassian. The hemorrhage had been but slight, but it was evident that fever was running high, and that death was near. On entering, Leverton had observed a female form kneeling at the side of the rudely-supported plank which served for a couch to the dying warrior ; but her back was towards him, and he only remarked that she was occasionally moistening the burning brow of the sufferer ; while, with a green bough, she waved away the flies which the close atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to have collected.

Leverton took his hand, and in Russian uttered some few words of comfort. He replied in the same tongue, though imperfectly. He complained of intense thirst ; and the saline draughts, which were in truth the cheval de bataille of the medicine chest, seemed most desirable. Leverton turned to the young woman who held the bough, to ask for a cup of water, in which he might administer the draught, when to his surprise he recognised the Greek girl. She received his directions wath eagerness ; and a faint gleam of satis faction shone over her sad countenance, when, pressing her hand within his own, the Circas sian appeared to express a sense of relief in the cooling influence of the febrifuge. Leverton's next care was to procure a better apartment. It was easily effected. His acquaintance with the General then at Taganrog, and his diplomatic position, besides the real anxiety of the Com mandant to save the life of the Circassian, gave his wishes weight ; and the dying man was removed to a cool upper apartment, furnished with aU the comforts which could be hastily coUected — the attache's carriage-cushions form ing a principal feature.

Thanks to the extraordinary bungling of the wheelwright of Mechastovskoy, there was no likelihood of Leverton being able to proceed on his mission that day; so towards evening he paid another visit to the fort. There was some little amelioration in the sufferings of the Circassian; and as night drew on, lone, who was stiU in attendance, proposed that aU others should be dismissed, herself being left to watch the couch of the sufferer. " What alone, lone ?" Leverton asked. " It wUl be his happiness — it wdl be my happiness," was the reply. " The deuce it wdl," thought the attache', " the poor Tchernomoski had some cause for wrath it seems." He told lone that he too would share her watch, it being possible that a favourable crisis might intervene, which by care might be improved. She kissed his hands, and pressed them to her brow.

It was a graceful and expressive action, and made Lever ton rather inclined to wish she had never seen either the Circassian or Cossack. But the night-watch was agreed upon; and the Greek girl and the English diplomatist prepared for the vigd. An opiate, administered successfully, after a time had its effect on the Circassian ; and assured by his deep breathing of his slumbers, his nurses withdrew to a distant window, from whence the broad May moon, shining on the swdftly-flowing waters of the Kuban, offered a striking spectacle. It was a moment to caU for confidence. Leverton asked it ; and aU that had been exciting his curiosity for the last twenty-four hours was imparted to him in the most enchanting style. Leaning against the stone embrasure of the windows, — the moon beams resting fuU on her lovely brow, — soothed by the interest shewn in her, lone seemed to five back her past life, and to caU the prettiest expressions to describe it.

It was a story ot strange vicissitudes. Her father, an aged Greek, had been driven by the rapacity of a Turkish Pacha from the fair island of Ipsara, and deprived of his smaU patrimony. He had fled with his only daughter to Russia, to seek the protection of a brother in-law, who held a trifling post under the Imperial Government. Death had surprised him in the village of Mechastovskoy, through which their route lay. Affrighted and heart broken, the desolate lone knew not where to seek protection ; but a Cossack, high in the military service of the Emperor, took her to his home, his wife shewing her aU the affection of a sister. After a time, his young brother sought her in marriage, and their troths were plighted. A sudden and unforeseen catastrophe seemed to extinguish every hope of their union.

During the absence of part of the little garrison, the fort of Mechastovskoy was suddenly stormed by a band of Circassians, apprised by some means of their diminished force. Many of the brave defenders of the fort were slain by the assailants — the first protector of lone among the number; her affianced lover was one of those who were absent. With an excess of rapine not often practised by the Circassians, not content with carrying off aU the arms and ammunition they could coUect, they bore away with them the poor Greek girl. This was an extremity of aggression to be explained, perhaps, by the circumstance of the young girl having in her excessive terror fled to a spot actually to be passed in the victorious retreat of the spoders ; but so it was. Conveyed with gentleness to the dweUing of the chief, who had headed the assault on the Russian fort, lone conceived the hope, that he who ruled as a king over aU those surrounding him, yet watched like a father over their wel fare, would stUl restore her to her lover and adopted home.

However, six months passed in the dweUing of the Prince Zabalkan, — as lone persisted in caUing the chief — shewed her the futility of her expectations. She learnt that the policy of the Circassians never per mitted the departure of any one, w7ho had once dwelt a captive within their mountain fast nesses ; a rigour and caution extending even to women and chUdren. The knowledge plunged her into deep dejection. With the tenderness of a young girl who would soothe the wild dove she has caught, the Chieftan's wife omitted no care to lure the Greek from her sorrow7. At first aU was vain. The captive had no other solace than that of constantly praying to a little golden crucifix she always carried in her bosom. By degrees however a calm, like happiness, came over her ; and though she still at times cast a tearful glance towards the far North, she began to feel an interest in all around her, executing with animation the light offices assigned to her.

A new trial awaited her. The wife of the Prince Zabalkan, whose VOL. I. c health had long been fading, now sunk in death-shewing sickness. lone w7atched her as a sister, and prayed for her soul's saving, as a saint. Her prayers awakened curiosity in the dying Mahomedan; her w7ords conveyed the indefeasible points of her faith; and the Cir cassian's last breath ascribed glory to the One glorified. Though bereaved by death of the wife of his bosom, the stern ruler of his tribe stiU sought the society of the Greek captive, and led her to talk of the hopes she had given to the dying. A bold thought rose in the mind of lone. Was the Prince by her means to be turned to the truth ? It became the one absorbing hope of her being. Time went on, and lone at length learnt that the heart of Zabalkan was in her keeping.

How mysterious are the springs of love in a woman's soul ! The loss of her affianced husband had long ceased to be wept, and yet the love of one godlike in beauty, and princely in mind, was all unresponded to by the young girl. Affection — woman's heart affection rested on both ; but the fount of love in that pure bosom was yet unstirred. The Circassian found that it was so, and besought her earnestly to banish what had just passed entirely from her mind, and that it might not be reverted to until a year had passed. During that year a treacherous and desperate attack of a combined Cossack force, on the fortress of Zabalkan, intervened. The Tcherno moski were victorious. The Greek girl was rescued ; and the Circassian chief, covered with innumerable wounds, was taken, after a fearful contest, which ended only after the almost entire destruction of his own band.

On learning the capture of Zabalkan, to the astonishment of the Cossack and his sister-in-law, lone insisted on visiting his prison. They witnessed the meeting, and saw her clinging to him, utter ing the sweetest words of sorrow and affection ; words that seemed to render the captive all but happy. c PERILS OF PASHION. That evening the Cossack sought an inter view with the Greek girl alone. He was cold and composed ; but he told her that the horrible belief had come over him, that the best blood of the Tchernomoski had been perilled for the contented favorite of a Circassian harem. There was but one step which would assure him that his suspicions were unfounded, and that she still felt the love she had plighted in former days. It was, to become his wife on the morrow, and accompany him to Taganrog, whither mditary business, connected with the late attack on the Circassians, called him.

An icy " no," was aU she could utter, and they parted without one word of concession on either side. Not to renounce her own resolves, but to make him better understand the feehngs which actuated her in regard to the dying Zabalkan, had led to the interview which Leverton had witnessed. He beheld too the fadure of her wish of reconciliation. On the conclusion of her long narrative, lone had stolen softly to the side of the Cir cassian ; and ever and anon she cast looks fuU of hope, to the sympathizing Leverton, who felt, as she did, that the long duration of this stiU slumber promised much. Day had already dawned, and the flowing waters of the river sparkled beneath the slanting sunbeams, before the sleep of Zabalkan left him. But it was with a scream and a convulsive start that he awoke. lone in an instant was fuU of w7atchful cares ; but he put aside the refreshment she was offering him with a gentle hand, saying with a sad smde : " This is aU useless, my blessed bird ; I must leave you.

Death is fast creeping over me. This kind doctor wdl teU you the same truth." The Honourable Philip Leverton, attache to the English Embassy at the Court of all the Russias, with many significant et ceteras, resented not this slight mistake of his caUing. He saw this splendid wreck of human might and beauty was rapidly sinking, and felt that the first medical talent could not save him. Zabalkan asked lone for her crucifix. He attempted to hold it to his lips, but his hands faded in their office. lone fulfiUed his wishes, and still held it before him, as in the simplest words he made profession of his faith. Lever ton listened with interest. lone bowed her head and prayed. On again raising it, a piercing scream broke from her lips. Zabalkan was dead ! At noon that day, with a caleche well re paired, but with a heart much upset by the sad scenes he had witnessed, Leverton pursued his way to Taganrog and Azoo.