The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 54: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_— TE ee SE neem THE MYSTERTES OF THE COURT. CHAPTER IX. ANGELA VIVALDI. 37 ee — ¢ , tended by some very queer-looking persons, whom it was Saturday night again, and the Opera was) uuce more crowded to excess. Bright and joyous was that scene, presenting a wondrous contrast to the care-fraught world without, where the turmoil of jarring interests never ceases and the struggle of conflicting passions is never at rest. And yet, when surveying that immense amphi- theatre, thronged with the highest in rank, the proudest in title, the richest in wealth, the most elegant in attire, and the loveliest in personal charms,—must not the thinking observer ask him- self whether if his eye could penetrate beneath that brilliant surface and read deep down to the inner- most recesses of the heart, he would find bliss, con- tentment, and joy in every soulP Alas, no! In those festooned alcoves many a smiling lip and ra- diant brow served but as a mask to conceal cares the most poignant, anxieties the most intense, jealousies the most fierce, envies the most torturing. Where flowers were upon the brow and diamonds upon the hair, the brain might throb beneath ; and within those the newspapers next day represented as “ a brilliant suite.” Indeed, this ILustrious Prince had paid the present visit to England attended by the prin- cipal officers of his Court and the staff of his Army,. —his coachman being at the same time Field- Marshal and Commander-in-Chief, his valet the Prime Minister of the Duchy, his head cook the Lord Chamberlain, and his butler the Master of the Horse. All these high functionaries of State were | dressed in splendid uniforms; and their most Serene bosoms that were decked with costliest jewels, might the darkest and ignoblest passions be raging. Nor less did looks of seeming kindness that were ex- changed and honied words of greeting that passed between acquaintances and friends, serve to conceal “most bitter, rancorous, and implacable hostilities. Amongst those beings who appeared the fairest and gentlest, were some whose bosoms burnt with the devouring fires of insatiable passion: amongst | and Illustrious master was covered with stars, orders, and decorations. It was a very brilliant suite indeed! We have already said that the house was throngcd to suffocation: we may add that it was crowded as it had never been before. When the doors were first thrown open and the crush took place, the Ger- man Prince*had got his head so jammed against a pillar that if it had not been of a thickness truly enviable on such an occasion, it would have been squeezed as flat as a pancake. Immense was the injury done to white waistcoats, neck-ties, and other articles of apparel—feet were trodden into jellies— and one or two elderly gentlemen lost their wigs in the crowd. But despite these and other similar misadventures, the throng had kept pouring on un- til the whole house was filled, as above stated. We do not intend to speak of the opera that was performed on the occasion, nor to notice the en- chantments of the singing or the music. Our object is to introduce to the reader the cynosure of the evening’s attraction—the inimitable and charming Angela Vivaldi. To say that she was beautiful were to say nothing: she was lovely almost beyond all the most envied and the most worshipped, were power of description—fairer than the fairest image some whose unrequited love or betrayed affections which painter ever drew, sculptor ever modelled, or had already made a ruin and a desert of their hearts. There too, amidst the galaxy of splendour, rank, and fashion, were the vain repinings of beauty on the wane, concealed beneath flashing gems, the arti- fice of cosmetics, and studied smiles. Oh! if the polished surface of that bright and joyous scene were dazzling, and thrilling, and overpowering to con- template,—yet were the veil which shrouded the secret thoughts drawn aside and the interior of every heart exposed, the eye would perhaps have re- coiled in amazement and in horror from the chaos poet ever dreamt. Her age was about eighteen; and without exception she was the most ravishing embodiment of female charms that ever burst upon the delighted vision. When she appeared upon the stage, enthusiastic was the reception she experi- enced ; and whatever cares, or torturing feelings, or malignant passions that might have before been of feelings and pandemonium of passions thus re- | vealed to the gaze, Might it not then be said that the stage-lichts served but to separate two sets of actors—-the audience and the performers ? As on the former occasion when we introduced our readers to the Opera, Lady Florina and some female friends were there, accompanied by Lord Harold Staunton and Lord Saxondale. In the pit, occupying one of the foremost seats just behind the orchestra, was William Deveril, the young professor of drawing and painting whose name has heen before mentioned. In the Royal Box Queen Vic- toria and the Duchess of Kent were seated: behind them stood several lords and ladies in waitine— those obsequious hangers-on of Royalty who are more contemptible in their grovelling sycophancy than the most servile toad-eaters and lick-spittles are in a less elevated sphere of life. In a neigh- bouring bos to the Royal one, wasa Germun Prince —the reigmag Duke of some nameless State cen- sisting of a few beggarly acres -and who was at- —_ Ee ee ee -_-— -~-—- = agitating in even the unhappiest hearts and most racked of souls, were temporarily forgotten now, in the contemplation of that divine creature. Her countenance was of the most illuminating beauty. The high-arched brows—the straight chiselled nose—the small ripe mouth—the rounded chin—and the oval outline of the face, were all of classic faultlessness. Her eyes, large and dark, were full of fire, and yet had nothing bold in their ex- pression: but bright as her glances were, there was still a sweetness in them that bespoke a purity and an innocence of soul,—so that her looks warmed tho feelings without inflaming them. Her shining dark hair clustered about her well-shaped head, and shone with a natural glory of its own brighter than the blaze of light which flooded the whole scene. Her complexion was dazzlingly pure and transparent; and the mantling colour upon her cheeks derived not its carnation hue from the effect of art, but was the rich vermeil bloom shed there by nature’s own hand. The swan-like neck sloped off to shoulders just rounded sufficiently for plumpness, and expanded into a busom full enough for feminine beauty, with- out marring the statuesque perfection of the entire bust. She was tall, and though slender, not thin COMmmIclbookxs (CO) nn