May | 2015 | Angelyn's Blog

In the August 1818 volume of La Belle Assemblee, the Listener, who never revealed his true identity, nevertheless admits:

“I have ever regarded the anonymous letter-writer in the same light as I do an assassin who stabs in the dark.”

Nevertheless, he addresses himself almost always to anonymous writers.

English walking dress featured in La Belle Assemblee, October 1818: “Garter purple poplin pelisse, ornamented with black velvet. Mary Scot bonnet and Waterloo half boots.

These supplicants, he explains, are very different. They cringe from identifying themselves because of the trouble they find themselves in. They:

“..are a far more different temperament from those miserable beings to whom I allude. They write to me for advice, they lash, in a good-humoured way…”

What of those critics who adopted obvious pseudonyms in Regency-era literary reviews? The Leopard and the Scorpion, for instance, who’ve been subjects of this blog in the past?

They were assassins, too, but they stabbed in broad daylight.

No, it is the anonymous writer who deliberately seeks out publicity with the sole intent to wound that the Listener despises. This malcontent “vents his spleen” and “pours forth her venom” in order to make mischief and sow discord.

“Anonymous” in this regard criticizes an artist’s character (rather than his work) , wrecks marriages, breaks up romantic engagements and sets children against their parents.

The signature of this troll, whether it be Incognito or Ivan the Terrible, is a “dirty mantle.”

“Beware my sting, I inflict it unseen; for Cowardice and Malignancy are my parents; and Envy my instructress and nurse!”

“Tell me your company, and I will tell you who you are.” — old proverb

Many times this blog has addressed that fascinating character of Regency society–the hostess. She may be one of the ‘best women in the world,’ or from hell. She might be cold as her unheated country house in winter, an accommodating peeress in her own right, an Irish nobody, or a royal eccentric.

The Regency confessor heard from one Hypolotis, who wrote of his experience with a particular hostess who turned out to be quite cunning.

New Self-Acting Kitchen Range -- La Belle Assemblee, August, 1818 "To every family, more especially for Large Establishments, a constant supply of pure hot Water and Steam, must be a valuable acquisition"

La Belle Assemblee, July, 1818 “To every family, more especially for Large Establishments, a constant supply of pure hot Water and Steam, must be a valuable acquisition” — no Regency hostess would be without one!

The correspondent’s story begins after a brief accounting of his travels, in which he asserts his congeniality:

“My character is naturally frank and open, and this procures me the friendship of all classes.”

— “Acquaintances,” by the Listener in La Belle Assemblee, July, 1816

In Green Park, he gains admirers among the children when he bestows upon them “balls, tops or cakes.” At the theatre, he is complimented by gentlemen on the “fineness of his linen and the elegant cut of his clothes, and in particular, the lustre of the brilliant on his finger.”

Acquaintances among the latter he tended to form rather easily, he relates, and on one occasion a “man of fashion” hailed him outside of St. James’ Coffee-house. Upon being asked of his plans for the evening, Hypolotis disclosed he’s been invited to an exclusive faro party in Hanover Square. With surprising presumption, the newcomer begged to be included.

Of course, one’s companion might be welcome to a party, but Hypolotis scarcely knew this fellow. If it were up to him, he’d not deny the request, but he must think of his hostess, for Society jealously guarded the boundaries of her circle. Suitable birth and fortune were just as important in Hanover Square as they were in St. James’.

“What signifies that?” his odious, pushing companion retorted. “Surely one man of fashion may introduce another.”

In the end, congeniality won over good sense and both presented themselves at the faro-party that evening. Their hostess, whose name the correspondent sensibly abbreviates to Mrs. R., admitted both very graciously so that the two men proceeded to play faro and “gallantly” lose to “fair adversaries”–mingling as “two charming young men of fashion and of the most elegant manners.”

However, once separated from his companion, Hypolotis was confronted by Mrs. R’s whisper, desiring that he repeat the name of his particular friend.

“His name?” He is, I assure you, a man of fashion and fortune, and of very good family.”

“But what is his name?”

“(Er) Edmonds.”

Alerted to Hypolotis’ awkward response, she set about unveiling the true identity of the interloper in her ballroom. Moments later, her footman announced that a message was awaiting “Mr. Edmonds” and would he please step into the foyer?

No one came.

Mrs. R. bided her time until her company gathered to leave, when she quietly reprimanded Hypolotis for playing such a trick on her. His friend was no more Mr. Edmonds than she was. Showing even more cunning and discretion, she advised him to find out who his friend really is. If he’s “of family,” she would be happy to host them both again.

Hypolotis did as she requested. To his relief, his rude and inconsiderate acquaintance actually ranked very high in polite society. However,

“… had he been deficient in the former qualifications I could never have shown my face again amongst those who I am continually accustomed to meet in the elegant circles of my honourable female friend.”