in their absence, when present they seemed universally
admired. Though everybody cried 'Shame!' and 'shocking!' yet everybody
visited them. No parties so crowded as Lady Dashfort's; no party deemed
pleasant or fashionable where Lady Dashfort or Lady Isabel was not. The
bon-mots of the mother were everywhere repeated; the dress and air of
the daughter everywhere imitated. Yet Lord Colambre could not help being
surprised at their popularity in Dublin, because, independently of all
moral objections, there were causes of a different sort, sufficient, he
thought, to prevent Lady Dashfort from being liked by the Irish; indeed
by any society. She in general affected to be ill-bred, and inattentive
to the feelings and opinions of others; careless whom she offended by
her wit or by her decided tone. There are some persons in so high a
region of fashion, that they imagine themselves above the thunder of
vulgar censure. Lady Dashfort felt herself in this exalted situation,
and fancied she might 'hear the innocuous thunder roll below.' Her rank
was so high that none could dare to call her vulgar; what would
have been gross in any one of meaner note, in her was freedom, or
originality, or Lady Dashfort's way. It was Lady Dashfort's pleasure and
pride to show her power in perverting the public taste. She often said
to those English companions with whom she was intimate, 'Now see what
follies I can lead these fools into. Hear the nonsense I can make them
repeat as wit.' Upon some occasion, one of her friends VENTURED to fear
that something she had said was TOO STRONG. 'Too strong, was it? Well, I
like to be strong--woe be to the weak.' On another occasion she was told
that certain visitors had seen her ladyship yawning. 'Yawn, did I?--glad
of it--the yawn sent them away, or I should have snored;--rude, was I?
they won't complain. To say I was rude to them would be to say, that I
did not think it worth my while to be otherwise. Barbarians! are not we
the civilised English, come to teach them manners and fashions? Whoever
does not conform, and swear allegiance too, we shall keep out of the
English pale.'

Lady Dashfort forced her way, and she set the fashion: fashion, which
converts the ugliest dress into what is beautiful and charming, governs
the public mode in morals and in manners; and thus, when great talents
and high rank combine, they can debase or elevate the public taste.

With Lord Colambre she played more artfully; she drew h