Tales And Novels, Volume 1 by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales And Novels, Volume 1

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"Affectation," the judicious Locke observes, "has always the laudable aim
of pleasing:" upon this principle Mr. Mountague could not reasonably
think of it with severity. "From the desire of pleasing," argued he,
"proceeds not only all that is amiable, but much of what is most
estimable in the female sex. This desire leads to affectation and
coquetry, to folly and vice, only when it is extended to unworthy
objects. The moment a woman's wish to please becomes discriminative, the
moment she feels any attachment to a man superior to the vulgar herd, she
not only ceases to be a coquette, but she exerts herself to excel in
every thing that he approves, and, from her versatility of manners, she
has the happy power of adapting herself to his taste, and of becoming all
that his most sanguine wishes could desire." The proofs of this
discriminative taste, and the first symptoms of this salutary attachment
to a man superior to the vulgar herd, Mr. Mountague thought he discerned
very plainly in Lady Augusta, nor did he ever forget that she was but
eighteen. "She is so very young," said he to himself, "that it is but
reasonable I should constantly consider what she may become, rather than
what she is." To do him justice, we shall observe, that her ladyship at
this time, with all the address of which so young a lady was capable, did
every thing in her power to confirm Mr. Mountague in his favourable
sentiments of her.

Waiting for some circumstance to decide his mind, he was at length
determined by the generous enthusiasm, amiable simplicity, and candid
good sense which Lady Augusta showed in speaking of a favourite friend of
hers, of whom he could not approve. This friend, Lady Diana, was one of
the rude ladies who had laughed with so much ill-nature at Helen's white
and black shoes at the archery ball. She was a dashing, rich,
extravagant, fashionable widow, affecting bold horsemanlike manners, too
often "touching the brink of all we hate," without exciting any passions
allied to love. Her look was almost an oath--her language was suitable to
her looks--she swore and dressed to the height of the fashion--she could
drive four horses in hand--was a desperate huntress--and so loud in the
praises of her dogs and horses, that she intimidated even sportsmen and
jockeys. She talked so much of her favourite horse _Spanker_, that she
acquired amongst a particular set of gentlemen the appellation of my Lady
Di Spanker. Lady Augusta perceived that the soft affectations remarkable
in her own manners were in agreeable contrast in the company of this
masculine dame; she therefore cultivated her acquaintance, and Lady
S---- could make no objection to a woman who was well received every
where; she was rather flattered to see her daughter taken notice of by
this dashing belle; consequently, Lady Di. Spanker, for by that name we
also shall call her, frequently rode over from Cheltenham, which was some
miles distant from S---- Hall. One morning she called upon Lady Augusta,
and insisted upon her coming out to try her favourite horse. All the
gentlemen went down immediately to assist in putting her ladyship on
horseback: this was quite unnecessary, for Lady Diana took that office
upon herself. Lady Augusta was all timidity, and was played off to great
advantage by the rough raillery of her friend. At length she conquered
her fears so much as to seat herself upon the side-saddle; her riding
mistress gathered up the reins for her, and fixed them properly in her
timid hands; then armed her with her whip, exhorting her, "for God's
sake, not to be such a coward!" Scarcely was the word _coward_
pronounced, when Lady Augusta, by some unguarded motion of her whip, gave
offence to her high-mettled steed, which instantly began to rear: there
was no danger, for Mr. Mountague caught hold of the reins, and Lady
Augusta was dismounted in perfect safety. "How now, Spanker!" exclaimed
Lady Di., in a voice calculated to strike terror into the nerves of a
horse--"how now, Spanker!" and mounting him with masculine boldness of
gesture--"I'll teach you, sir, who's your mistress," continued she; "I'll
make you pay for these tricks!" Spanker reared again, and Lady Di. gave
him what she called "a complete dressing!" In vain Lady Augusta screamed;
in vain the spectators entreated the angry amazon to spare the whip; she
persisted in beating Spanker till she fairly mastered him. When he was
perfectly subdued, she dismounted with the same carelessness with which
she had mounted; and, giving the horse to her groom, pushed back her hat,
and looked round for applause. Lord George, roused to a degree of
admiration, which he had never before been heard to express for any thing
female, swore that, in all his life, he had never seen any thing better
done; and Lady Di. Spanker received his congratulations with a loud
laugh, and a hearty shake of the hand. "Walk him about, Jack," added she,
turning to the groom, who held her horse; "walk him about, for he's all
in a lather; and when he's cool, bring him up here again. And then, my
dear child," said she to Lady Augusta, "you shall give him a fair trial."

"I!--Oh! never, never!" cried Lady Augusta, shrinking back with a faint
shriek: "this is a trial to which you must not put my friendship. I must
insist upon leaving Spanker to your management; I would not venture upon
him again for the universe."

"How can you talk so like a child--so like a woman?" cried her friend.

"I confess, I am a very woman," said Lady Augusta, with a sigh: "and I
fear I shall never be otherwise."

"_Fear_!" repeated Mr. Mountague, to whom even the affectation of
feminine softness and timidity appeared at this instant charming, from
the contrast with the masculine intrepidity and disgusting coarseness of
Lady Diana Spanker's manners. The tone in which he pronounced the single
word _fear_ was sufficient to betray his feelings towards both the
ladies. Lady Di. gave him a look of sovereign contempt. "All I know and
can tell you," cried she, "is, that fear should never get a-horseback."
Lord George burst into one of his loud laughs. "But as to the rest,
_fear_ may be a confounded good thing in its proper place; but they say
it's catching; so I must run away from you, child," said she to Lady
Augusta. "Jack, bring up Spanker. I've twenty miles to ride before
dinner. I've no time to lose," pulling out her watch: "faith, I've fooled
away an hour here; Spanker must make it up for me. God bless you all!
Good bye!" and she mounted her horse, and galloped off full speed.

"God bless ye! good bye to ye, Lady Di. Spanker," cried Dashwood, the
moment she was out of hearing. "Heaven preserve us from amazons!" Lord
George did not say, _Amen_. On the contrary, he declared she was a fine
dashing woman, and seemed to have a great deal of blood about her. Mr.
Mountague watched Lady Augusta's countenance in silence, and was much
pleased to observe that she did not assent to his lordship's encomium.
"She has good sense enough to perceive the faults of her new friend, and
now her eyes are open she will no longer make a favourite companion, I
hope, of this odious woman," thought he. "I am afraid, I am sadly afraid
you are right," said Lady Augusta, going up to the elderly lady, whom we
formerly mentioned, who had seen all that had passed from the open
windows of the drawing-room. "I own I _do_ see something of what you told
me the other day you disliked so much in my friend, Lady Di.;" and Lady
Augusta gave the candid sigh of expiring friendship as she uttered these
words.

"Do you know," cried Dashwood, "that this spanking horsewoman has
frightened us all out of our senses? I vow to Heaven, I never was so much
terrified in my life as when I saw you, Lady Augusta, upon that vicious
animal."

"To be sure," said Lady Augusta, "it was very silly of me to venture; I
almost broke my neck, out of _pure friendship_."

"It is well it is no worse," said the elderly lady: "if a fall from a
horse was the worst evil to be expected from a friendship with a woman of
this sort, it would be nothing very terrible."

Lady Augusta, with an appearance of ingenuous candour, sighed again, and
replied--"It is so difficult to see any imperfections in those one loves!
Forgive me, if I spoke with too much warmth, madam, the other day, in
vindication of my friend. I own I ought to have paid more deference to
your judgment and knowledge of the world, so much superior to my own; but
certainly I must confess, the impropriety of her amazonian manners, as
Mr. Dashwood calls them, never struck my partial eyes till this morning.
Nor could I, nor would I, believe half the world said of her; indeed,
even now, I am persuaded she is, in the main, quite irreproachable; but I
feel the truth of what you said to me, madam, that young women cannot be
too careful in the choice of their female friends; that we are judged of
by our companions; how unfairly one must be judged of sometimes!"
concluded her ladyship, with a look of pensive reflection.

Mr. Mountague never thought her half so beautiful as at this instant.
"How _mind_ embellishes beauty!" thought he; "and what quality of the
mind more amiable than candour!--All that was wanting to her character
was reflection; and could one expect so much reflection as this from a
girl of eighteen, who had been educated by a Mlle. Panache?" Our readers
will observe that this gentleman now reasoned like a madman, but not like
a fool; his deductions from the appearances before him were admirable;
but these appearances were false. He had not observed that Lady Augusta's
eyes were open to the defects of her amazonian friend, in the very moment
that Lord George ---- was roused to admiration by this horseman belle.
Mr. Mountague did not perceive that the candid reflections addressed to
his lordship's aunt were the immediate consequence of female jealousy.

The next morning, at breakfast, Lord George was summoned three times
before he made his appearance: at length he burst in, with a piece of
news he had just heard from his groom--"That Lady Di. Spanker, in riding
home full gallop the preceding day, had been thrown from her horse by an
old woman. Faith, I couldn't believe the thing," added Lord George, with
a loud laugh; "for she certainly sits a horse better than any woman in
England; but my groom had the whole story from the grand-daughter of the
old woman who was run over."

"Run over!" exclaimed Lady Augusta; "was the poor woman run over?--was
she hurt?"

"Hurt! yes, she was hurt, I fancy," said Lord George. "I never heard of
any body's being run over without being hurt. The girl has a petition
that will come up to us just now, I suppose. I saw her in the back yard
as I came in."

"Oh! let us see the poor child," said Lady Augusta: "do let us have her
called to this window." The window opened down to the ground, and, as
soon as the little girl appeared with the petition in her hand, Lady
Augusta threw open the sash, and received it from her timid hand with a
smile, which to Mr. Mountague seemed expressive of sweet and graceful
benevolence. Lady Augusta read the petition with much feeling, and her
lover thought her voice never before sounded so melodious. She wrote her
name eagerly at the head of a subscription. The money she gave was rather
more than the occasion required; but, thought Mr. Mountague,

"If the generous spirit flow
Beyond where prudence fears to go
Those errors are of nobler kind,
Than virtues of a narrow mind[2]."

[Footnote 2: Soame Jenyns.]

By a series of petty artifices Lady Augusta contrived to make herself
appear most engaging and amiable to this artless young man: but the
moment of success was to her the moment of danger. She was little aware,
that when a man of sense began to think seriously of her as a wife, he
would require very different qualities from those which please in public
assemblies. Her ladyship fell into a mistake not uncommon in her sex; she
thought that "Love blinds when once he wounds the swain[3]." Coquettes
have sometimes penetration sufficient to see what will please their
different admirers: but even those who have that versatility of manners,
which can be all things to all men, forget that it is possible to support
an assumed character only for a time; the moment the immediate motive for
dissimulation diminishes, the power of habit acts, and the real
disposition and manners appear.

[Footnote 3: Collius's Eclogues.]

When Lady Augusta thought herself sure of her captive, and consequently
when the power of habit was beginning to act with all its wonted force,
she was walking out with him in a shrubbery near the house, and
mademoiselle, with Mr. Dashwood, who generally was the gallant partner of
her walks, accompanied them. Mademoiselle stopped to gather some fine
carnations; near the carnations was a rose-tree. Mr. Mountague, as three
of those roses, one of them in full blow, one half blown, and another a
pretty bud, caught his eye, recollected a passage in Berkeley's romance
of _Gaudentio di Lucca_. "Did you ever happen to meet with Gaudentio di
Lucca? do you recollect the story of Berilla, Lady Augusta?" said he.

"No; I have never heard of Berilla: what is the story?" said she.

"I wish I had the book," said Mr. Mountague; "I cannot do it justice, but
I will borrow it for you from Miss Helen Temple. I lent it to her some
time ago; I dare say she has finished reading it."

At these words, Lady Augusta's desire to have Gaudentio di Lucca suddenly
increased; and she expressed vast curiosity to know the story of Berilla.
"And pray what put you in mind of this book just now?" said she.

"These roses. In Berkeley's Utopia, which he calls Mezzorania--(every
philosopher, you know, Mr. Dashwood, must have a Utopia, under whatever
name he pleases to call it)--in Mezzorania, Lady Augusta, gentlemen did
not, as amongst us, make declarations of love by artificial words, but by
natural flowers[4]. The lover in the beginning of his attachment
declared it to his mistress by the offer of an opening bud; if she felt
favourably inclined towards him, she accepted and wore the bud. When time
had increased his affection--for in Mezzorania it is supposed that time
increases affection for those that deserve it--the lover presented a
half-blown flower; and, after this also was graciously accepted, he came,
we may suppose not very long afterwards, with a full-blown flower, the
emblem of mature affection. The ladies who accepted these full-blown
flowers, and wore them, were looked upon amongst the simple Mezzoranians
as engaged for life; nor did the gentlemen, when they offered their
flowers, make one single protestation or vow of eternal love, yet they
were believed, and deserved, it is said, to be believed."

[Footnote 4: Gaudentio di Lucca, p. 202.]

"_Qu'est ce que c'est? Qu'est ce que c'est?_" repeated mademoiselle
several times to Dashwood, whilst Mr. Mountague was speaking: she did not
understand English sufficiently to comprehend him, and Dashwood was
obliged to make the thing intelligible to her in French. Whilst he was
occupied with her, Mr. Mountague gathered three roses, a bud, a
half-blown and a full-blown rose, and playfully presented them to Lady
Augusta for her choice.--"I'm dying to see this Gaudentio di Lucca;
you'll get the book for me to-morrow from Miss Helen Temple, will you?"
said Lady Augusta, as she with a coquettish smile took the rose-bud, and
put it into her bosom.

"_Bon!_" cried mademoiselle, stooping to pick up the full-blown rose,
which Mr. Mountague threw away carelessly. "_Bon!_ but it is great pity
dis should be thrown away."

"It is not thrown away upon Mlle. Panache!" said Dashwood.

"Dat maybe," said mademoiselle; "but I observe, wid all your fine
compliment, you let me stoop to pick it up for myself--_a l'Anglaise!_"

"_A la Francaise_, then," said Dashwood, laughing, "permit me to put it
into your nosegay."

"Dat is more dan you deserve," replied mademoiselle.--"_Eh! non, non_. I
can accommodate it, I tell you, to my own taste best." She settled and
resettled the flower: but suddenly she stopped, uttered a piercing
shriek, plucked the full-blown rose from her bosom, and threw it upon the
ground with a theatrical look of horror. A black earwig now appeared
creeping out of the rose; it was running away, but mademoiselle pursued,
set her foot upon it, and crushed it to death. "Oh! I hope to Heaven, Mr.
Mountague, there are none of these vile creatures in the bud you've given
me!" exclaimed Lady Augusta. She looked at her bud as she spoke, and
espied upon one of the leaves a small green caterpillar: with a look
scarcely less theatrical than mademoiselle's, she tore off the leaf and
flung it from her; then, from habitual imitation of her governess, she
set her foot upon the harmless caterpillar, and crushed it in a moment.

In the same moment Lady Augusta's whole person seemed metamorphosed to
the eyes of her lover. She ceased to be beautiful: he seemed to see her
countenance distorted by malevolence; he saw in her gestures disgusting
cruelty; and all the graces vanished.

When Lady Augusta was a girl of twelve years old, she saw Mlle. Panache
crush a spider to death without emotion: the lesson on humanity was not
lost upon her. From imitation, she learned her governess's foolish terror
of insects; and from example, she was also taught that species of
cruelty, by which at eighteen she disgusted a man of humanity who was in
love with her. Mr. Mountague said not one word upon the occasion. They
walked on. A few minutes after the caterpillar had been crushed, Lady
Augusta exclaimed, "Why, mademoiselle, what have you done with Fanfan? I
thought my dog was with us: for Heaven's sake, where is he?"

"He is run, he is run on," replied mademoiselle.

"Oh, he'll be lost! he'll run down the avenue, quite out upon the
turnpike road.--Fanfan! Fanfan!"

"Don't alarm, don't distress yourself," cried Dashwood: "if your ladyship
will permit me, I'll see for Fanfan instantly, and bring her back to you,
if she is to be found in the universe."

"O Lord! don't trouble yourself; I only spoke to mademoiselle, who
regularly loses Fanfan when she takes him out with her." Dashwood set out
in search of the dog; and Lady Augusta, overcome with affectation,
professed herself unable to walk one yard further, and sank down upon a
seat under a tree, in a very graceful, languid attitude. Mr. Mountague
stood silent beside her. Mademoiselle went on with a voluble defence of
her conduct towards Fanfan, which lasted till Dashwood reappeared,
hurrying towards them with the dog in his arms--"_Ah, la voila! chere_
Fanfan!" exclaimed mademoiselle.

"I am sure I really am excessively obliged to Mr. Dashwood, I must say,"
cried Lady Augusta, looking reproachfully at Mr. Mountague.

Dashwood now approached with panting, breathless eagerness, announcing a
terrible misfortune, that Fanfan had got a thorn or something in his
fore-foot. Lady Augusta received Fanfan upon her lap, with expressions of
the most tender condolence; and Dashwood knelt down at her feet to
sympathize in her sorrow, and to examine the dog's paw. Mademoiselle
produced a needle to extract the thorn.

"I wish we had a magnifying-glass," said Dashwood, looking with strained
solicitude at the wound.

"Oh, you insensible monster! positively you shan't touch Fanfan," cried
Lady Augusta, guarding her lapdog from Mr. Mountague, who stooped now,
for the first time, to see what was the matter. "Don't touch him, I say;
I would not trust him to you for the universe; I know you hate lapdogs.
You'll kill him--you'll kill him."

"I kill him! Oh no," said Mr. Mountague; "I would not even kill a
caterpillar."

Lady Augusta coloured at these words; but she recovered herself when
Dashwood laughed, and asked Mr. Mountague how long it was since he had
turned brahmin; and how long since he had professed to like caterpillars
and earwigs.

"_Bon Dieu!_--earwig!" interrupted mademoiselle: "is it possible that
monsieur or any body dat has sense, can like _dose_ earwig?"

"I do not remember," answered Mr. Mountague, calmly, "ever to have
professed any _liking_ for earwigs."

"Well, _pity_; you profess pity for them," said Mr. Dashwood, "and pity,
you know, is 'akin to love.'--Pray, did your ladyship ever hear of the
man who had a pet toad?"[5]

[Footnote 5: Vide Smellie's Natural History, vol. ii.]

"Oh, the odious wretch!" cried Lady Augusta, affectedly; "but how could
the man bring himself to like a toad?"

"He began by _pitying_ him, I suppose," said Dashwood. "For my part, I
own I must consider that man to be in a most enviable situation whose
heart is sufficiently at ease to sympathize with the insect creation."

"Or with the brute creation," said Mr. Mountague, smiling and looking at
Fanfan, whose paw Dashwood was at this instant nursing with infinite
tenderness.

"Oh, gentlemen, let us have no more of this, for Heaven's sake!" said
Lady Augusta, interposing, with affected anxiety, as if she imagined a
quarrel would ensue. "Poor dear Fanfan, you would not have any body
quarrel about you, would you, Fanfan?" She rose as she spoke, and,
delivering the dog to Dashwood to be carried home, she walked towards the
house, with an air of marked displeasure towards Mr. Mountague.

Her ladyship's displeasure did not affect him as she expected. Her
image--her gesture stamping upon the caterpillar, recurred to her lover's
mind many times in the course of the evening; and in the silence of the
night, and whenever the idea of her came into his mind, it was attended
with this picture of active cruelty.

"Has your ladyship," said Mr. Mountague, addressing himself to Lady
S----, "any commands for Mrs. Temple? I am going to ride over to see her
this morning."

Lady S---- said that she would trouble him with a card for Mrs. Temple; a
card of invitation for the ensuing week. "And pray don't forget my
kindest remembrances," cried Lady Augusta, "especially to Miss Helen
Temple; and if she should have entirely finished the book we were talking
of, I shall be glad to see it."

When Mr. Mountague arrived at Mrs. Temple's, he was shown into the usual
sitting-room: the servant told him that none of the ladies were at home,
but that they would soon return, he believed, from their walk, as they
were gone only to a cottage at about half a mile's distance.

The room in which he had passed so many agreeable hours awakened in his
mind a number of dormant associations--work, books, drawing, writing! he
saw every thing had been going forward just as usual in his absence. All
the domestic occupations, thought he, which make _home_ delightful, are
here: I see nothing of these at S---- Hall. Upon the table, near a neat
work-basket, which he knew to be Helen's, lay an open book; it was
Gaudentio di Lucca. Mr. Mountague recollected the bud he had given to
Lady Augusta, and he began to whistle, but not for want of thought. A
music-book on the desk of the piano-forte caught his eye; it was open at
a favourite lesson of his, which he remembered to have heard Helen play
the last evening he was in her company. Helen was no great proficient in
music; but she played agreeably enough to please her friends, and she was
not ambitious of exhibiting her accomplishments. Lady Augusta, on the
contrary, seemed never to consider her accomplishments as occupations,
but as the means of attracting admiration. To interrupt the comparison,
which Mr. Mountague was beginning to enter into between her ladyship and
Helen, he thought the best thing he could do was to walk to meet Mrs.
Temple; wisely considering, that putting the body in motion sometimes
stops the current of the mind. He had at least observed, that his
schoolfellow, Lord George ----, seemed to find this a specific against
thought; and for once he was willing to imitate his lordship's example,
and to hurry about from place to place, without being in a hurry. He rang
the bell, inquired in haste which way the ladies were gone, and walked
after them, like a man who had the business of the nation upon his hands;
yet he slackened his pace when he came near the cottage where he knew
that he was to meet Mrs. Temple and her daughters. When he entered the
cottage, the first object that he saw was Helen, sitting by the side of a
decrepit old woman, who was resting her head upon a crutch, and who
seemed to be in pain. This was the poor woman who had been ridden over by
Lady Di. Spanker. A farmer who lived near Mrs. Temple, and who was coming
homewards at the time the accident happened, had the humanity to carry
the wretched woman to this cottage, which was occupied by one of Mrs.
Temple's tenants. As soon as the news reached her, she sent for a
surgeon, and went with her daughters to give that species of consolation
which the rich and happy can so well bestow upon the poor and
Miserable--the consolation not of gold, but of sympathy.

There was no affectation, no ostentation of sensibility, Mr. Mountague
observed, in this cottage scene; the ease and simplicity of Helen's
manner never appeared to him more amiable. He recollected Lady
Augusta's picturesque attitude, when she was speaking to this old woman's
grand-daughter; but there was something in what he now beheld that gave
him more the idea of nature and reality: he heard, he saw, that much had
actually been _done_ to relieve distress, and done when there were no
spectators to applaud or admire. Slight circumstances show whether the
mind be intent upon self or not. An awkward servant girl brushed by Helen
whilst she was speaking to the old woman, and with a great black kettle,
which she was going to set upon the fire, blackened Helen's white dress,
in a manner which no lady intent upon her personal appearance could have
borne with patience. Mr. Mountague saw the black streaks before Helen
perceived them, and when the maid was reproved for her carelessness,
Helen's good-natured smile assured her "that there was no great harm
done."

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