Tales and Novels, Vol. V by Maria Edgeworth

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

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Vivian's love had been silent, tranquil, and not seemingly of any great
consequence, till it was opposed; but, from the instant that an obstacle
intervened, it gathered strength and force, and it presently rose
rapidly, with prodigious uproar, threatening to burst all bounds, and to
destroy every thing that stopped its course. Lady Mary was now inclined
to try what effect lessening the opposition might produce. To do her
justice, she was also moved to this by some nobler motives than fear;
or, at least, her fears were not of a selfish kind: she dreaded that her
son's health and permanent happiness might be injured by this violent
passion; she was apprehensive of becoming an object of his aversion; of
utterly losing his confidence, and all power over his mind; but,
chiefly, her generous temper was moved and won by Selina Sidney's
admirable conduct. During the whole time that Vivian used every means to
see her, to write to her, and to convince her of the fervour of his
love, though he won all her friends over to his interests, though she
heard his praises from morning till night from all who surrounded her,
and though her own heart, perhaps, pleaded more powerfully than all the
rest in his favour; yet she never, for one instant, gave him the
slightest encouragement. Lady Mary's esteem and affection were so much
increased by these strong proofs of friendship and honour, that her
prejudices yielded; and she at length declared, that if her son
continued, till he was of age, to feel the same attachment for this
amiable girl, she would give her consent to their union. But this, she
added, she promised only on one condition--that her son should abstain
from all attempts, in the interval, to see or correspond with Miss
Sidney, and that he should set out immediately to travel with Mr.
Russell. Transported with love, and joy, and victory, Vivian promised
every thing that was required of him, embraced his mother, and set out
upon his travels.

"Allow," said he triumphantly to Russell, as the chaise drove from the
door, "allow, my good friend, that you were mistaken, in your fears of
the weakness of my character, and of the yielding facility of my temper.
You see how firm I have been--you see what battle I have made--you see
how I have _stood out_."

"I never doubted," said Russell, "your love of your own free will--I
never doubted your fear of being governed, especially by your mother;
but you do not expect that I should allow this to be a proof of strength
of character."

"What! do you suppose I act from love of my own free will merely?--Do
you call my love for Selina Sidney weakness?--Oh! take care, Russell;
for if once I find you pleading my mother's cause against your
conscience----"

"You will never find me pleading any cause against my conscience. I have
told your mother, as I have told you, my opinion of Miss Sidney--my firm
opinion--that she is peculiarly calculated to make the happiness of your
life, provided you continue to love her."

"Provided!--Oh!" cried Vivian, laughing, "spare your musty provisoes, my
dear philosopher! Would not any one think, now, you were an old man of
ninety? If this is all you have to fear, I am happy indeed."

"At present," said Russell, calmly, "I have no fear, as I have just
told your mother, but that you should change your mind before you
are of age."

Vivian grew quite indignant at this suggestion. "You are angry with me,"
said Russell, "and so was your mother: she was angry because I said, I
_feared,_ instead of I _hoped,_ you would change your mind. Both parties
are angry with me for my sincerity."

"Sincerity!--no; but I am angry with you for your absurd suspicions of
my constancy."

"If they are absurd, you need not be angry," said Russell; "I shall be
well pleased to see their absurdity demonstrated."

"Then I can demonstrate it this moment."

"Pardon me; not this moment; you must take time into the account. I make
no doubt but that, at this moment, you are heartily in love with Miss
Sidney; but the thing to be proved is, that your passion will not
decline in force, in proportion as it meets with less resistance. If it
does, you will acknowledge that it was more a love of your own free will
than a love of your mistress that has actuated you, which was the thing
to be proved."

"Hateful Q.E.D.!" cried Vivian; "you shall see the contrary, and, at
least, I will triumph over you."

If Russell had ever used art in his management of Vivian's mind, he
might have been suspected of using it in favour of Miss Sidney at this
instant; for this prophecy of Vivian's inconstancy was the most likely
means to prevent its accomplishment. Frequently, in the course of their
tour, when Vivian was in any situation where his constancy was tempted,
he recollected Russell's prediction, and was proud to remind him how
much he had been mistaken. In short, the destined time for their return
home arrived--Vivian presented himself before his mother, and claimed
her promise. She was somewhat surprised, and a little disappointed, by
our hero's constancy; but she could not retract her word; and, since her
compliance was now unavoidable, she was determined that it should be
gracious. She wrote to Selina, therefore, with great kindness, saying,
that whatever views of other connexions she might formerly have had for
her son, she had now relinquished them, convinced, by the constancy of
her son's attachment, and by the merit of its object, that his own
choice would most effectually ensure his happiness, and that of all his
friends. Her ladyship added expressions of her regard and esteem, and of
the pleasure she felt in the thoughts of finding in her daughter-in-law
a friend and companion, whose society was peculiarly agreeable to her
taste and suited to her character. This letter entirely dissipated
Selina's scruples of conscience; Vivian's love and merit, all his good
and all his agreeable qualities, had now full and unreproved power to
work upon her tender heart. His generous, open temper, his candour, his
warm attachment to his friends, his cultivated understanding, his
brilliant talents, his easy, well-bred, agreeable manners, all
heightened in their power to please by the charm of love, justified,
even in the eyes of the aged and prudent, the passion he inspired.
Selina became extremely attached to him; and she loved with the
delightful belief that there was not, in the mind of her lover, the seed
of a single vice which threatened danger to his virtues or to their
mutual happiness. With his usual candour, he had laid open his whole
character to her, as far as he knew it himself; and had warned her of
that vacillation of temper, that easiness to be led, which Russell had
pointed out as a dangerous fault in his disposition. But of this
propensity Selina had seen no symptoms; on the contrary, the steadiness
of her lover in his attachment to her--the only point on which she had
yet seen him tried--decided her to trust to the persuasive voice of love
and hope, and to believe that Russell's friendship had in this
instance, been too harsh or too timorous in its forebodings.

Nothing now delayed the marriage of Vivian and Selina but certain legal
rites, which were to be performed on his coming of age, and before
marriage settlements could be drawn;--and the parties were doomed to
wait for the arrival of some trustee who was with his regiment abroad.
All these delays Vivian of course cursed: but, upon the whole, they were
borne by him with heroic patience, and by Selina with all the
tranquillity of confiding love, happy in the present, and not too
anxious for the future.

CHAPTER II.

"My dear Russell," said Vivian, "love shall not make me forget
friendship; before I marry, I must see you provided for. Believe me,
this was the first--one of the first pleasures I promised myself, in
becoming master of a good fortune. Other thoughts, I confess, have put
it out of my head; so now let me tell you at once. I hate paltry
surprises with my friends: I have, you know--or rather, probably, you do
not know, for you are the most disinterested fellow upon earth--I have
an excellent living in my gift; it shall be yours; consider it as such
from this moment. If I knew a more deserving man, I would give it to
him, upon my honour; so you can't refuse me. The incumbent can't live
long; he is an old, very old, infirm man; you'll have the living in a
year or two, and, in the mean time, stay with me. I ask it as a favour
from a friend, and you see how much I want a friend of your firm
character; and I hope you see, also, how much I can value, in others,
the qualities in which I am myself deficient."

Russell was much pleased and touched by Vivian's generous gratitude, and
by the delicacy, as well as kindness of the manner in which he made this
offer; but Russell could not consistently with his feelings or his
principles live in a state of dependent idleness, waiting for a rich
living and the death of an old incumbent. He told Vivian that he had too
much affection for him, and too much respect for himself, ever to run
the hazard of sinking from the rank of an independent friend. After
rallying him, without effect, on his pride, Vivian acknowledged that he
was forced to admire him the more for his spirit. Lady Mary, too, who
was a great and sincere admirer of independence of character, warmly
applauded Mr. Russell, and recommended him, in the highest terms, to a
nobleman in the neighbourhood, who happened to be in want of a preceptor
for his only son. This nobleman was Lord Glistonbury: his lordship was
eager to engage a person of Russell's reputation for talents; so the
affair was quickly arranged, and Lady Mary Vivian and her son went to
pay a morning visit at Glistonbury Castle, on purpose to accompany
Russell on his first introduction to the family. As they approached the
castle, Vivian was struck with its venerable Gothic appearance; he had
not had a near view of it for some years, and he looked at it with new
eyes. Formerly he had seen it only as a picturesque ornament to the
country; but now that he was himself possessor of an estate in the
vicinity, he considered Glistonbury Castle as a point of comparison
which rendered him dissatisfied with his own mansion. As he drove up the
avenue, and beheld the towers, turrets, battlements, and massive
entrance, his mother, who was a woman of taste, strengthened, by her
exclamations on the beauty of Gothic architecture, the wish that was
rising in his mind to convert his modern house into an _ancient_ castle:
she could not help sighing whilst she reflected that, if her son's
affections had not been engaged, he might perhaps have obtained the
heart and hand of one of the fair daughters of this castle. Lady Mary
went no farther, even in her inmost thoughts. Incapable of
double-dealing, she resolved never even to let her son know what her
wishes had been with respect to a connexion with the Glistonbury family.
But the very reserve and _discretion_ with which her ladyship spoke--a
reserve unusual with her, and unsuited to the natural warmth of her
manner and temper--might have betrayed her to an acute and cool
observer. Vivian, however, at this instant, was too much intent upon
castle-building to admit any other ideas.

When the carriage drove under the great gateway and stopped, Vivian
exclaimed, "What a fine old castle! how surprised Selina Sidney would
be, how delighted, to see my house metamorphosed into such a castle!"

"It is a magnificent castle, indeed!" said Lady Mary, with a sigh: "I
think there are the Lady Lidhursts on the terrace; and here comes my
Lord Glistonbury with his son."

"My pupil?" said Russell; "I hope the youth is such as I can become
attached to. Life would be wretched indeed without attachment--of some
sort or other. But I must not expect," added he, "to find a second time
a friend in a pupil; and such a friend!"

Sentiment, or the expression of the tenderness he felt for his friends,
was so unusual from Russell, that it had double effect; and Vivian was
so much struck by it, that he could scarcely collect his thoughts in
time to speak to Lord Glistonbury, who came to receive his guests,
attended by three _hangers on_ of the family--a chaplain, a captain, and
a young lawyer. His lordship was scarcely past the meridian of life;
yet, in spite of his gay and debonair manner, he looked old, as if he
were paying for the libertinism of his youth by premature decrepitude.
His countenance announced pretensions to ability; his easy and affable
address, and the facility with which he expressed himself, gained him
credit at first for much more understanding than he really possessed.
There was a plausibility in all he said; but, if it were examined, there
was nothing in it but nonsense. Some of his expressions appeared
brilliant; some of his sentiments just; but there was a want of
consistency, a want of a pervading mind in his conversation, which to
good judges betrayed the truth, that all his opinions were adopted, not
formed; all his maxims commonplace; his wit mere repetition; his sense
merely _tact_. After proper thanks and compliments to Lady Mary and Mr.
Vivian, for securing for him such a treasure as Mr. Russell, he
introduced Lord Lidhurst, a sickly, bashful boy of fourteen, to his new
governor, with polite expressions of unbounded confidence, and a rapid
enunciation of undefined and contradictory expectations.

"Mr. Russell will, I am perfectly persuaded, make Lidhurst every thing
we can desire," said his lordship; "an honour to his country, an
ornament to his family. It is my decided opinion that man is but a
bundle of habits; and it's my maxim, that education is _second_
nature--_first_, indeed, in many cases. For, except that I am staggered
about original genius, I own I conceive with Hartley, that early
impressions and associations are all in all: his vibrations and
vibratiuncles are quite satisfactory. But what I particularly wish for
Lidhurst, sir, is, that he should be trained as soon as possible into a
statesman. Mr. Vivian, I presume you mean to follow up public business,
and no doubt will make a figure. So I prophesy; and I am used to these
things. And from Lidhurst, too, under similar tuition, I may with
reason expect miracles--'hope to hear him thundering in the house of
commons in a few years--'confess 'am not quite so impatient to have the
young dog in the house of incurables; for you know he could not be
there without being in my shoes, which I have not done with yet--ha!
ha! ha!----Each in his turn, my boy! In the mean time, Lady Mary, shall
we join the ladies yonder, on the terrace? Lady Glistonbury walks so
slow, that she will be seven hours in coming to us; so we had best go
to her ladyship: if the mountain won't go to Mahomet--you know, of
course, what follows."

On their way to the terrace, Lord Glistonbury, who always heard himself
speak with singular complacency, continued to give his ideas on
education; sometimes appealing to Mr. Russell, sometimes happy to catch
the eye of Lady Mary.

"Now, my idea for Lidhurst is simply this:--that he should know every
thing that is in all the best books in the library, but yet that he
should be the farthest possible from a book-worm--that he should never,
except in a set speech in the house, have the air of having opened a
book in his life--mother-wit for me!--in most cases--and that easy
style of originality, which shows the true gentleman. As to
morals--Lidhurst, walk on, my boy--as to morals, I confess I couldn't
bear to see any thing of the Joseph Surface about him. A youth of spirit
must, you know, Mr. Vivian--excuse me, Lady Mary, this is--_an aside_--
be something of a latitudinarian to keep in the fashion: not that I mean
to say so exactly to Lidhurst--no, no--on the contrary, Mr. Russell, it
is our cue, as well as this reverend gentleman's," looking back at the
chaplain, who bowed assent before he knew to what, "it is our cue, as
well as this reverend gentleman's, to preach prudence, and temperance,
and all the cardinal virtues."

"_Cardinal_ virtues! very good, faith! my lord," said the lawyer,
looking at the clergyman.

"_Temperance!_" repeated the chaplain, winking at the officer; "upon my
soul, my lord, that's too bad."

"_Prudence!_" repeated the captain; "that's too clean a cut at poor
Wicksted, my lord."

Before his lordship had time to preach any more prudence, they arrived
within bowing distance of the ladies, who had, indeed, advanced at a
very slow rate. Vivian was not acquainted with any of the ladies of the
Glistonbury family; for they had, till this summer, resided at another
of their country seats, in a distant county. His mother had often met
them at parties in town.

Lady Glistonbury was a thin, stiffened, flattened figure--she was
accompanied by two other female forms, one old, the other young; not
each a different grace, but alike all three in angularity, and in a cold
haughtiness of mien. After reconnoitring with their glasses the party of
gentlemen, these ladies quickened their step; and Lady Glistonbury,
making her countenance as affable as it was in its nature to be,
exclaimed, "My dear Lady Mary Vivian! have I the pleasure to see your
ladyship?--They told me it was only visitors to my lord."

Mr. Vivian had then the honour of being introduced to her ladyship, to
her eldest daughter, Lady Sarah Lidhurst, and to Miss Strictland, the
governess. By all of these ladies he was most graciously received; but
poor Russell was not so fortunate; nothing could be more cold and
repulsive than their reception of him. This did not make Lady Sarah
appear very agreeable to Vivian; he thought her, at this first view, one
of the least attractive young women he had ever beheld.

"Where is my Julia?" inquired Lord Glistonbury. "Ah! there she goes
yonder, all life and spirits."

Vivian looked as his lordship directed his eye, and saw, at the farthest
end of the terrace, a young girl of about fifteen, running very fast,
with a hoop, which she was keeping up with great dexterity for the
amusement of a little boy who was with her. The governess no sooner saw
this than she went in pursuit of her young ladyship, calling after her,
in various tones and phrases of reprehension, in French, Italian, and
English; and asking whether this was a becoming employment for a young
lady of her age and rank. Heedless of these reproaches, Lady Julia still
ran on, away from her governess, "to chase the rolling circle's speed,"
down the slope of the terrace; thither Miss Strictland dared not pursue,
but contented herself with standing on the brink, reiterating her
remonstrances. At length the hoop fell, and the young lady returned, not
to her governess, but, running lightly up the slope of the terrace, to
her surprise, she came full in view of the company before she was aware
that any strangers were there. Her straw hat being at the back of her
head, Lady Glistonbury, with an indignant look, pulled it forwards.

"What a beautiful colour! what a sweet countenance Lady Julia has!"
whispered Lady Mary Vivian to Lord Glistonbury: at the same time she
could not refrain from glancing her eyes towards her son, to see what
effect was produced upon him. Vivian's eyes met hers; and this single
look of his mother's revealed to him all that she had, in her great
prudence, resolved to conceal. He smiled at her, and then at Russell, as
much as to say, "Surely there can be no comparison between such a child
as this and Selina Sidney!"

A few minutes afterwards, in consequence of a sign from Lady
Glistonbury, Julia disappeared with her governess; and the moment was
unnoticed by Vivian, who was then, as his mother observed, looking up at
one of the turrets of the old castle. All its inhabitants were at this
time uninteresting to him, except so far as they regarded his friend
Russell; but the castle itself absorbed his attention. Lord Glistonbury,
charmed to see how he was struck by it, offered to show him over every
part of the edifice; an offer which he and Lady Mary gladly accepted.
Lady Glistonbury excused herself, professing to be unable to sustain the
fatigue: she deputed her eldest daughter to attend Lady Mary in her
stead; and this was the only circumstance which diminished the pleasure
to Vivian, for he was obliged to show due courtesy to this stiff
taciturn damsel at every turn, whilst he was intent upon seeing the
architecture of the castle, and the views from the windows of the towers
and loop-holes of the galleries; all which Lady Sarah pointed out with a
cold, ceremonious civility, and a formal exactness of proceeding, which
enraged Vivian's enthusiastic temper. The visit ended: he railed half
the time he was going home against their fair, or, as he called her,
their petrified guide; then, full of the Gothic beauties of Glistonbury,
he determined, as soon as possible, to turn his own modern house into a
castle. The very next morning he had an architect to view it, and to
examine its capabilities. It happened that, about this time, several of
the noblemen and gentry, in the county in which Vivian resided, had been
seized with this rage for turning comfortable houses into uninhabitable
castles. And, however perverse or impracticable this retrograde movement
in architecture might seem, there were always at hand professional
projectors, to convince gentlemen that nothing was so feasible. Provided
always that gentlemen approve their estimates as well as their plans,
they undertake to carry buildings back, in a trice, two, or three, or
half a dozen centuries, as may be required, to make them Gothic or
Saracenic, and to "add every grace that time alone can give." A few days
after Vivian had been at Glistonbury Castle, when Lord Glistonbury came
to return the visit, Russell, who accompanied his lordship, found his
friend encompassed with plans and elevations.

"Surely, my dear Vivian," said he, seizing the first moment he could
speak to him, "you are not going to spoil this excellent house? It is
completely finished, in handsome modern architecture, perfectly
comfortable and convenient, light, airy, large enough, warm rooms, well
distributed, with ample means of getting at each apartment; and if you
set about to new-model and transform it into a castle, you must, I see,
by your plan, alter the proportions of almost every room, and spoil the
comfort of the whole; turn square to round, and round again to square;
and, worse than all, turn light to darkness--only for the sake of having
what is called a castle, but what has not, in fact, any thing of the
grandeur or solid magnificence of a real ancient edifice. These modern
baby-house miniatures of castles, which gentlemen ruin themselves to
build, are, after all, the most paltry, absurd things imaginable."

To this Vivian was, after some dispute, forced to agree; but he said,
"that his should not be a baby-house; that he would go to any expense to
make it really magnificent."

"As magnificent, I suppose, as Glistonbury Castle?"

"If possible:--that is, I confess, the object of my emulation."

"Ah!" said Russell, shaking his head, "these are the objects of
emulation, for which country gentlemen often ruin themselves; barter
their independence and real respectability; reduce themselves to
distress and disgrace: these are the objects for which they sell
either their estates or their country; become placemen or beggars; and
end either in the liberties of the King's Bench, or the slaveries of
St. James's."

"Impossible for me! you know my public principles," said Vivian: "and
you know that I think the life of an independent country gentleman the
most respectable of all others--you know my principles."

"I know your facility," said Russell: "if you begin by sacrificing thus
to your taste, do you think you will not end by sacrificing to your
interest?"

"Never! never!" cried Vivian.

"Then you imagine that a strong temptation will not act where a weak one
has been found irresistible."

"Of this I am certain," said Vivian: "I could never be brought to sell
my country, or to forfeit my honour."

"Perhaps not," said Russell: "you might, in your utmost need, have
another alternative; you might forfeit your love; you might give up
Selina Sidney, and marry for money--all for the sake of a castle!"

Struck by this speech, Vivian exclaimed, "I would give up a thousand
castles rather than run such a hazard!"

"Let us then coolly calculate," said Russell. "What would the castle
cost you?"

The expense, even by the estimates of the architects, which, in the
execution, are usually doubled, was enormous, such as Vivian
acknowledged was unsuited even to his ample fortune. His fortune, though
considerable, was so entailed, that he would, if he exceeded his income,
be soon reduced to difficulties for ready money. But then his mother had
several thousands in the stocks, which she was ready to lend him to
forward this castle-building. It was a project which pleased her taste,
and gratified her aristocratic notions.

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