Tales and Novels, Vol. V by Maria Edgeworth

M >> Maria Edgeworth >> Tales and Novels, Vol. V

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This letter at first surprised our heroine, and afterwards afforded
subject for much ridicule to Mrs. Ingoldsby, to whom Almeria showed it.
She laughed at the odd freedom of the Yorkshire dame, at the
old-fashioned plainness of the style--parenthesis within parenthesis--at
last concluding with respects and best wishes, and _remaining_ dear Miss
Turnbull's humble servant. She opined, however, upon the third perusal
of the letter, that Mrs. Wynne was anxious to present her nephew to Miss
Turnbull, and that this was the real meaning of her curious note--that
probably she wished to surprise her with the sight of some Yorkshire
damsel, who had formed the reasonable expectation, that because Miss
Turnbull had done her the honour to notice her ages ago in the country,
she was to be her companion in town. Mrs. Ingoldsby further observed,
that Mrs. Wynne, though she had not practised at court, was no bad
politician in thus attempting to recommend a companion to Miss Turnbull,
who would, of course, be entirely in her nephew's interests. Almeria's
vanity was indirectly flattered by these insinuations, which tended to
prove her vast consequence, in being thus the object of plots and
counterplots; and she the more readily believed this, from the
experience she had had of Lady Pierrepoint's manoeuvres. "It is really a
dreadful thing," said she, "to be a great heiress. One must be so
circumspect--so much upon one's guard with all the world. But poor Mrs.
Wynne shows her cards so plainly, one must be an idiot not to guess her
whole play."

To "mistake reverse of wrong for right" is one of the most common errors
in the conduct of life. Our heroine being sensible that she had been
ridiculously credulous in her dealings with Lady Pierrepoint, was now
inclined to be preposterously suspicious. She determined with her next
admirer to pursue a system diametrically opposite to that which she had
followed with the marquis; she had shown him attractive complaisance;
she was now prepared to display the repulsive haughtiness becoming the
representative of two hundred thousand pounds: she had completely
adopted Lady Pierrepoint's maxim. _That a lady should marry to increase
her consequence and strengthen her connexions_. Her former ideas, that
love and esteem were necessary to happiness in a union for life, seemed
obsolete and romantic; and the good qualities of her admirers, though
they were always to be mentioned as the ostensible reasons for her
choice, were never in reality to influence her decision.

To stoop at once from a marquis to a private gentleman would be
terrible; yet that private gentleman was worthy of some little
consideration, not because he was, as Almeria remembered, a man of
excellent sense, temper, and character, but because he had a clear
estate of eight thousand pounds a-year, and was next heir to an earldom.

Miss Turnbull cannot properly be called a female fortune-hunter; but, to
coin a new name for our heroine, which may be useful to designate a
numerous class of her contemporaries, she was decidedly a female
_title-hunter_.

She accepted of the invitation to dinner, and, accompanied by a proper
supporter in Mrs. Ingoldsby, went to Mrs. Wynne's, dressed in the utmost
extravagance of the mode, blazing in all the glory of diamonds, in hopes
of striking admiration even unto awe upon the hearts of all beholders.
Though she had been expressly invited to a _family party_, she
considered that only as an humble country phrase to excuse, beforehand,
any deficiency of magnificence. She had no doubt that the finest
entertainment, and the finest company, Mrs. Wynne could procure or
collect, would be prepared for her reception. She was somewhat
surprised, especially as she came fashionably late, to find in the
drawing-room only old Mrs. Wynne, her nephew, and a lady, who, from her
dress and modest appearance, was evidently _nobody_. Miss Turnbull swept
by her, though she had a disagreeable recollection of having somewhere
seen this figure in a former state of existence. Mrs. Wynne, good soul!
did not believe in wilful blindness, and she therefore said, with
provoking simplicity, "Miss Turnbull, this is your good friend, Mrs.
Henry Elmour--poor thing! she is sadly altered in her looks since you
saw her, a gay rosy lass at Elmour Grove! But though her looks are
changed, her heart, I can answer for it, is just the same as ever; and
she remembers you with all the affection you could desire. She would not
be like any other of her name, indeed, if she did otherwise. The Elmours
were all so fond of you!"

The name of Elmour, instead of having that irresistible charm, which
Mrs. Wynne expected, over Almeria's heart, produced a directly contrary
effect. It recalled many associations that were painful to her pride;
she was vexed to perceive that obligations and intimacies which she had
forgotten, or which she wished to forget, were remembered so obstinately
by others. All this passed in her mind whilst Mrs. Wynne was speaking.
With a look of ill-humoured surprise, Almeria half rose from her seat,
and, as Mrs. Henry Elmour was presented to her, uttered some phrases in
an unintelligible voice, and then sunk back again on the sofa. Mrs.
Wynne made room for the widow between her and Miss Turnbull--Mr. Wynne
kept aloof--a dead silence ensued--and Miss Turnbull, seeing that in her
present position there was nothing else to be done, condescended to hope
that all Mrs. Henry Elmour's friends in Yorkshire were well when she
left them. Mrs. Wynne's countenance brightened up, and she now addressed
her conversation to Mrs. Ingoldsby, in order to leave the pair, whom she
had destined to be friends, at perfect liberty to talk over "old times."

Mrs. Henry Elmour naturally spoke of the happy days which they had spent
together at Elmour Grove; but Miss Turnbull was so much occupied in
clasping one of her diamond bracelets, that half of what was said to her
seemed not to be heard, and the other half to create no interest. She
looked up, when she had at length adjusted her bracelet, and with an
insipid smile (learnt from Lady Pierrepoint) seemed to beg pardon for
her fit of absence. The unfortunate Mrs. Elmour recommenced all she had
said; but though Miss Turnbull's eyes were at this time directed towards
the widow's face, they wandered over her features with such insolent
examination, that she was totally abashed. Having gained her point, our
heroine now looked round as the door opened, in expectation of the
entrance of some persons who might be worthy of her attention; but, lo!
it was only a servant, who announced that dinner was served. Miss
Turnbull's surprise could be equalled only by her indignation, when she
found that it was literally to a _family party_ she was invited. "Miss
Turnbull," said Mrs. Wynne, as they were sitting down to dinner, "I have
been much disappointed in not having the company of some friends of
yours, who I expected would dine with us to-day; but they will be with
us, I hope, to-night--they were unluckily engaged to dine with the
Duchess of A----."

Miss Turnbull vouchsafed to appear interested, when the name of a
duchess was mentioned; but her countenance again changed to an
expression of almost angry vexation, when Mrs. Wynne explained, that
these friends were Mr. and Mrs. Elmour, and Mr. Charles Wynne and his
lady. "Miss Ellen Elmour, you know: she was----"--"Very true, I saw her
marriage in the papers, I remember, some time ago," replied Miss
Turnbull; "a year, if I'm not mistaken."

"Two years ago, madam," said Mrs. Wynne.

"Was it two?--I dare say it might--you know it is so impossible to keep
a register of deaths and marriages in one's head. Pray, are you at all
acquainted, Mrs. Wynne, with the Duchess of A----? She was always a
prodigious friend of the Elmours, as I remember. How is that?--Are they
any way related, I wonder?"

"Yes; they are now related by marriage," said Mr. Wynne; "Mrs. Elmour is
a niece of the duchess."

"Indeed!"

"She is a charming woman," said Mr. Wynne; "so beautiful and yet so
unaffected--so sensible, yet so unassuming."

"Pray," interrupted Mrs. Ingoldsby, "has not her grace conversaziones,
or reading parties, or something in that style every week?--She is quite
a learned lady, I understand. There was always something odd about her,
and I cannot help being afraid of her."

"I assure you," said Mrs. Wynne, "that there is nothing odd or strange
about the Duchess of A----. She has always the most agreeable society
that London can afford."

Miss Turnbull and Mrs. Ingoldsby interchanged looks of affected
contempt: but Mr. Wynne added, "Her grace has, you know, a taste for
literature and for the arts; and the most celebrated literary
characters, as well as those who have distinguished themselves in active
life, assemble at her house, where they can enjoy the most agreeable
conversation--that in which a knowledge of books and of the world is
happily blended."

"And as to being afraid of her grace," resumed Mrs. Wynne, "that is
quite impossible; she has such affable, engaging manners. I am sure,
even I am not in the least afraid of her."

"But you know," said Miss Turnbull, with a malicious look of mock
humility, "there is a difference between you and me.--I would not meet
her grace for the world, for I am persuaded I should not be able to
articulate a syllable in her classical presence--I have not been used to
that style of company, by any means. I assure you I should be, as Mrs.
Ingoldsby says, horribly afraid of your witty duchess."

"She has none of the airs of a wit, believe me," said Mrs. Wynne,
growing more and more earnest; "and if you will not believe me, ask your
friend Ellen."

"Oh, excuse me, I beseech; I shall ask no questions--I only beg leave
to keep myself well when I am well. The Elmours who are so clever, and
have such merit and so on, are all vastly better suited to her grace
than I am."

No contradiction ensued--our heroine was mortified beyond the power of
concealment.

After dinner, when the ladies retired, Mrs. Wynne, though somewhat
alarmed and puzzled by Miss Turnbull's behaviour, summoned all the
resolution which benevolence could inspire, and resolved at once to come
to the point with our heroine. She flattered herself that all in Miss
Turnbull that appeared inauspicious to her hopes was only _her manner,_
that sort of manner which people, who live much in high life, catch and
practise, without meaning to give themselves airs, or to humble their
neighbours.

Many persons will perhaps think good Mrs. Wynne almost an idiot: but she
was a woman of abilities; and if she did not exert them in discovering
with promptitude the follies of others, she enjoyed much happiness in
her benevolent scepticism. This evening, however, she was doomed to be
absolutely convinced, against her will, that she had formed too
favourable an opinion of one of her fellow-creatures.

She was eager to explain herself to Almeria before Ellen and Mr.
Frederick Elmour should arrive; she therefore took her aside, and began
without any preface:--"My dear Miss Turnbull, here is a charming
opportunity for you to do a kind, and generous, and grateful action.
This poor Mrs. Henry Elmour!--She has told you how she has been reduced
to distress without any imprudence of hers. Now you could not, I am
sure, prove the goodness of your own heart better to your friends (who
will be here in half an hour) than by showing kindness to this
unfortunate widow. I cannot presume to say more than that I think she
would make a most agreeable companion to an amiable, sensible young
lady--and you have not decided your choice, have you?"

"Pardon me, I have decided, beyond a possibility of retracting," replied
Miss Turnbull, haughtily.

"I am very sorry," said Mrs. Wynne, with an expression of real concern
in her countenance. "I have been very imprudent."

"Really I am infinitely distressed that it is out of my power to
oblige her; but the lady who is with me now, Mrs. Ingoldsby, has a
prior claim."

Prior claim!--prior to that of the Elmour family! thought Mrs. Wynne.

The decisive manner in which Miss Turnbull spoke precluded all
further hope.

"Well, I did think it would have been such a pleasure to Miss Turnbull
to meet Mrs. Henry Elmour, and all her old friends the Elmours here
to-day; and I fancied, that if there had been any little coolness or
misunderstanding, it would quite have passed off, and that I should have
had the joy of seeing you all shake hands--I thought it would have been
such an agreeable surprise to you to see all the Elmour family, and
Ellen's charming little girl, and Mr. Frederick Elmour's boy!"

A more disagreeable surprise could scarcely have been imagined for our
heroine. She informed Mrs. Wynne, coldly, that there was not the
slightest quarrel between her and any of the Elmours; and that therefore
there was no necessity, or possible occasion, for any shaking of hands
or reconciliation scenes: that undoubtedly the style of life she had
been thrown into had entirely separated her from her Yorkshire
acquaintance; and time had dissolved the sort of intimacy that
neighbourhood had created: that she should always, notwithstanding, be
most particularly happy to meet any of the Elmour family; though, from
her situation, it was a good fortune she had not often enjoyed, nor
indeed could in future expect: but that she wished it to be understood,
and repeated, that she always in all companies properly acknowledged the
obligations she had to Mr. Frederick Elmour as a lawyer. Her cause, she
believed, was the first in which he had distinguished himself; and she
was rejoiced to find that he had since risen so rapidly in his
profession.--As to Miss Ellen Elmour, she was a very charming, sensible
young woman, no doubt; and Miss Turnbull assured Mrs. Wynne she was
delighted to hear she was so suitably married in point of understanding
and temper, and all that sort of thing--and besides, to a gentleman of a
reasonable fortune, which she was happy to hear Mr. Charles Wynne
possessed.

Here she was interrupted in her speech--the door opened, and the Duchess
of A----, Mr. and Mrs. Elmour, and Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wynne, were
announced. Our heroine was not prepared for the sight of the duchess;
and her grace's appearance made her receive her old friends in a manner
very different from that in which she had determined to meet them.
Practised as she was, she stood irresolute and awkward, whilst Ellen,
with easy, graceful kindness, accosted her, and immediately introduced
her to the Duchess of A----. As Mr. Frederick Elmour approached, and as
his beautiful wife was presented to Miss Turnbull, not all her efforts
could conceal the mortification she endured, whilst she pronounced that
she was vastly happy--quite delighted--that all this was really such an
agreeable and _unexpected surprise_ to her--for she did not even know
any of her Yorkshire friends were in town.

Mrs. Ingoldsby came up to her assistance. Miss Turnbull rallied her
spirits, and determined to make her stand upon the exclusive ground of
fashion. Those who comprehend the rights of the privileged orders of
fashion are aware that even a commoner, who is in a certain _set_, is
far superior to a duchess who is not supposed to move in that magic
circle, Almeria, upon this principle, began to talk to the duchess of
some of her acquaintance, who were of the highest _ton_; and then
affectedly checked herself, and begged pardon, and looked surprised at
Mrs. Ingoldsby, when she found that her grace was not acquainted with
them. Much as Miss Turnbull had reason to complain of Lady Pierrepoint
and the young bride the marchioness, she now thought that their names
would do her honour; and she scrupled not to speak of them as her best
friends, and as the most amiable creatures existing.--Such is the
meanness and insufficiency of vanity!

"Poor Lady Pierrepoint," said the Duchess of A----: "with her
independent fortune, what could tempt her to enslave herself, as
she has done, to a court life?"

"Her ladyship finds herself suited to her situation, I believe," said
Miss Turnbull. "Lady Pierrepoint is certainly formed, more than most
people I know, to succeed and shine in a court; and she is in favour,
and in power, and in fashion."

"Does it follow of course that she is happy?" said Ellen.

"Oh! happy--of course; I suppose so."

"No doubt," said Mrs. Ingoldsby; "she has every reason to be happy: has
not she just made her niece marchioness?"

Miss Turnbull repeated "_Happy!_ to be sure Lady Pierrepoint is
happy, if any body in the world is happy."--A short sigh escaped from
our heroine.

Ellen heard the sigh, and attended to it more than to her words; she
looked upon her with compassion, and endeavoured to change the
conversation.

"We spend this winter in town; and as I think I know your _real_ tastes,
Almeria," said she, taking Almeria's hand, "we must have the pleasure of
introducing you to some of her grace's literary friends, who will, I am
sure, please and suit you particularly."

Mr. Frederick Elmour, who now really pitied Almeria, though in his pity
there was a strong mixture of contempt, joined his sister in her
kindness, and named and described some of the people whom he thought she
would be most desirous of knowing. The names struck Miss Turnbull's
ears, for they were the names of persons distinguished in the
fashionable as well as in the literary world; and she was dismayed and
mortified by the discovery that her _country friends_ had by some means,
incomprehensible to her, gained distinction and intimacy in society
where she had merely admission; she was vexed beyond expression when she
found that _the Elmours_ were superior to her even on her own ground. At
this instant Mrs. Wynne, with her usual simplicity, asked Mrs. Elmour
and Ellen why they had not brought their charming children with them;
adding, "You are, my dears, without exception, the two happiest mothers
and wives I am acquainted with. And after all, what happiness is there
equal to domestic happiness?--Oh! my dear Miss Turnbull, trust me,
though I am a silly old woman, there's nothing like it--and friends at
court are not like friends at home--and all the Lady Pierrepoints that
ever were or ever will be born, are not, as you'll find when you come to
try them, like one of these plain good Ellens and Elmours."

The address, simple as it was, came so home to Almeria's experience, and
so many recollections rushed at once upon her memory, that all her
factitious character of a fine lady gave way to natural feeling, and
suddenly she burst into tears.

"Good heavens! my dear Miss Turnbull," cried Mrs. Ingoldsby, "what is
the matter?--Are not you well?--Salts! salts!--the heat of the
room!--Poor thing!--she has such weak nerves.--Mr. Elmour, may I trouble
you to ring the bell for our carriage? Miss Turnbull has such
sensibility! This meeting, so unexpected, with so many old friends, has
quite overcome her."

Miss Turnbull, recalled to herself by Mrs. Ingoldsby's voice, repeated
the request to have her carriage immediately, and departed with Mrs.
Ingoldsby as soon as she possibly could, utterly abashed and mortified;
mortified most at not having been able to conceal her mortification.
Incapable absolutely of articulating, she left Mrs. Ingoldsby to cover
her retreat, as well as she could, with weak nerves and sensibility.

Even the charitable Mrs. Wynne was now heard to acknowledge that she
could neither approve of Miss Turnbull's conduct, nor frame any apology
for it. She confessed that it looked very like what she of all things
detested most--_ingratitude_. Her nephew, who had been a cool observant
spectator of this evening's performance, was glad that his aunt's mind
was now decided by Almeria's conduct. He exclaimed that he would not
marry such a woman, if her portion were to be the mines of Peru.

Thus Miss Turnbull lost all chance of the esteem and affection of
another man of sense and temper, who might even at this late period of
her life have recalled her from the follies of dissipation, and rendered
her permanently happy.

And now that our heroine must have lost all power of interesting the
reader, now that the pity even of the most indulgent must be utterly
sunk in contempt, we shall take our leave of her, resigning her to that
misery which she had been long preparing for herself. It is sufficient
to say, that after this period she had some offers from men of fashion
of ruined fortunes; but these she rejected, still fancying that with her
wealth she could not fail to make a splendid match. So she went on
coquetting; and coquetting, rejecting and rejecting, till at length she
arrived at an age when she could reject no longer. She ceased to be an
object to matrimonial adventurers, but to these succeeded a swarm of
female legacy-hunters. Among the most distinguished was her companion,
Mrs. Ingoldsby, whose character she soon discovered to be artful and
selfish in the extreme. This lady's flattery, therefore, lost all its
power to charm, but yet it became necessary to Almeria; and even when
she knew that she was duped, she could not part with Mrs. Ingoldsby,
because it was not in her power to supply the place of a flatterer with
a _friend_.--A friend! that first blessing of life, cannot be
bought--it must be deserved.

Miss, or as she must now he called, _Mrs_. Almeria Turnbull, is still
alive--probably at this moment haunting some place of public amusement,
or stationary at the card-table. Wherever she may be, she is despised
and discontented; one example more amongst thousands, that wealth cannot
purchase, or fashion bestow, real happiness.

"See how the world its veterans rewards--
youth of folly, an old age of cards!"

_Edgeworth's-Town_, 1802.

_VIVIAN_.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

Miss Edgeworth's general views, in these stories, are explained in the
preface to the first volume. I cannot, however, omit repeating, that
public favour has not yet rendered her so presumptuous as to offer hasty
effusions to her readers, but that she takes a longer time to revise
what she writes than the severe ancients required for the highest
species of moral fiction.

Vivian exposes one of the most common defects of mankind. To be "infirm
of purpose" is to be at the mercy of the artful or at the disposal of
accident. Look round, and count the numbers who have, within your own
knowledge, failed from want of firmness.

An excellent and wise mother gave the following advice with her dying
breath: "My son, learn early how to say, No!"--This precept gave the
first idea of the story of Vivian.

THE ABSENTEE is not intended as a censure upon those whose duties, and
employments, and superior talents, lead them to the capital; but to warn
the thoughtless and the unoccupied from seeking distinction by frivolous
imitation of fashion and ruinous waste of fortune.

A country gentleman, or even a nobleman, who does not sit in parliament,
may be as usefully and as honourably employed in Yorkshire, Mid Lothian,
or Ireland, as at a club-house or an assembly in London.

Irish agents are here described as of two different species. That there
have been bad and oppressive Irish agents, many great landed English
proprietors have felt; that there are well-informed, just, and
honourable Irish agents, every-day experience can testify.

MADAME DE FLEURY points out some of the means which may be employed by
the rich for the real advantage of the poor. This story shows that
sowing gold does not always produce a golden harvest; but that knowledge
and virtue, when early implanted in the human breast, seldom fail to
make ample returns of prudence and felicity.

EMILIE DE COULANGES exposes a fault into which the good and generous are
liable to fall.

Great sacrifices and great benefits cannot frequently be made or
conferred by private individuals; but, every day, kindness and
attention to the common feelings of others is within the power, and
may be the practice, of every age, and sex, and station. Common faults
are reproved by all writers on morality; but there are errors and
defects that require to be treated in a lighter manner, and that come,
with propriety, within the province of essayists and of writers for
the stage.

R. L. EDGEWORTH. _May_, 1812.

CHAPTER I.

"To see the best, and yet the worse pursue."

"Is it possible," exclaimed Vivian, "that you, Russell, my friend, my
best friend, can tell me that this line is the motto of my character!--'
To see the best, and yet the worse pursue.--Then you must think me
either a villain or a madman."

"No," replied Russell, calmly; "I think you only weak."

"Weak--but you must think me an absolute fool."

"No, not a fool; the weakness of which I accuse you is not a weakness of
the understanding. I find no fault either with the logical or the
mathematical part of your understanding. It is not erroneous in either
of the two great points in which Bacon says that most men's minds be
deficient in--the power of judging of consequences, or in the power of
estimating the comparative value of objects."

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