Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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"With all that should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends."

was, as she often declared, with gratitude to Providence, happier in age
than she had been even in youth. With warm affections, and benevolence
guided and governed in its objects by reason and religion; indulgent
to human nature in general, and loving it, but not with German
cosmopolitism--first and best, loving her daughter, her family, comprising
a wide and happy extent of relations and connexions, sons and nephews in
the army and navy, or in different employments in the state: many of these
young men already distinguished, others wanting only opportunity to do
equal honour to their name.

During the summer, Mrs. Mortimer usually spent some months at Hungerford
Castle, and generally took with her from town some friends whose company
she thought would peculiarly suit her mother's taste. Mrs. Hungerford had
always been in the habit of inviting the Percy family, whenever she had any
body with her whom she thought they would wish to see or hear; and thus
the young people, though living retired in the country, had enjoyed the
advantages of becoming early acquainted with many celebrated literary and
public characters, and of living in the best society; these were advantages
which they obtained from their education and their merit; for assuredly
Mrs. Hungerford would never have troubled herself with them merely because
they were her neighbours, possessing so many thousand pounds a year, and
representatives of the Percy interest in the county.--A proof of which, if
any were wanting, is, that she never took the least notice of those who now
held their place at Percy-hall; and the first visit she paid when she came
to the country, the first visit she had been known to pay for years, was
to her friends the Percys, after they had lost their thousands per annum.
So completely was it themselves and not their fortune which she had always
considered, that she never condoled with them, and scarcely seemed to
advert to any change in their circumstances. She perceived, to be sure,
that she was not at Percy-hall; she discovered, probably, that she was in
a small instead of a large room; the change of prospect from the windows
struck her eye, and she remarked that this part of the country was more
beautiful than that to which she had been accustomed.--As to the more or
less of show, of dress, or equipage, these things did not merely make
no difference in Mrs. Hungerford's estimation of persons, but in fact
scarcely made any impression upon her senses or attention. She had been
so much accustomed to magnificence upon a large scale, that the different
subordinate degrees were lost upon her; and she had seen so many changes
of fashion and of fortune, that she attached little importance to these.
Regardless of the drapery of objects, she saw at once what was substantial
and essential. It might, she thought, be one man's taste to visit her in
a barouche and four, with half-a-dozen servants, and another person's
pleasure to come without parade or attendants--this was indifferent to her.
It was their conversation, their characters, their merit, she looked to;
and many a lord and lady of showy dress and equipage, and vast importance
in their own opinions, shrunk into insignificance in the company of Mrs.
Hungerford; and, though in the room with her, passed before her eyes
without making a sufficient sensation upon her organs to attract her
notice, or to change the course of her thoughts.

All these _peculiarities_ in this lady's character rendered her
particularly agreeable to the Percy family in their present circumstances.
She pressed them to pay her a long visit.

"You see," said Mrs. Hungerford, "that I had the grace to forbear asking
this favour till I had possession of my daughter Mortimer, and could bring
her with me to entice you.--And my dear young friends, you shall find
young friends too, as well as old ones, at my house: my nieces, the Lady
Pembrokes, are to be with me; and Lady Angelica Headingham, who will
entertain you, though, perhaps, you will sometimes be tired _for_ her, she
works so hard _aux galeres de bel-esprit_. I acknowledge she has a little
too much affectation. But we must have charity for affectation and its
multitude of foibles; for, you know, Locke says that it is only a mistaken
desire to please. Angelica will find out her mistakes in time, and after
trying all manners, will hold fast by the best--that is, the most natural:
in the mean time, do you, my dear young friends, come and admire her as an
inimitable actress. Then, Mr. Percy, I have for you three temptations--a
man of letters, a man of science, and a man of sense. And, for the climax
of my eloquence, I have reserved," continued she turning to Mrs. Percy, "my
appeal to the mother's feelings. Know, then, that my son, my eldest hope,
my colonel, has arrived from the continent--landed last night--I expect
him home in a few days, and you must come and flatter me that he is
prodigiously improved by the service he has seen, and the wounds which he
can show, and assure me that, next to your own Godfrey, you would name my
Gustavus, of all the officers in the army, as most deserving to be our
commander-in-chief."

An invitation, which there were so many good and kind reasons for
accepting, could not be refused. But before we go to Hungerford Castle, and
before we see Colonel Hungerford--upon whom, doubtless, many a one at this
instant, as well as Rosamond Percy, has formed designs or prognostics in
favour of Caroline--we must read the following letter, and bring up the
affairs of Alfred and Erasmus.

CHAPTER XV.

LETTER FROM ALFRED PERCY TO HIS MOTHER.

"My Dear Mother,

"I am shocked by your story of Kate Robinson. I agree with you in rejoicing
that Caroline had sufficient penetration to see the faults of Buckhurst
Falconer's character, and steadiness enough, notwithstanding his agreeable
talents, never to give him any encouragement. I agree with you, also, that
it was fortunate that her last letter to him was written and sent before
this affair came to her knowledge. It was much better that she should abide
by her objection to his general principles than to have had explanations
and discussions on a subject into which she could not enter with propriety.

"I will, as you desire, keep Buckhurst's secret. Indeed, in a worldly point
of view, it behoves him that it should be carefully kept, because Bishop
Clay, the prelate, who gave him his present living, though he tolerates
gormandizing to excess, is extremely strict with his clergy _in other
matters_; and, as I once heard Buckhurst say,

'Compounds for sins he is inclin'd to,
By damning those he has no mind to.'

"Buckhurst had, I believe, hopes that Caroline would have relented, in
consequence of his last overture; he was thrown into despair by her
answer, containing, as he told me, such a calm and civil repetition of her
refusal--that he swears he will never trouble her again. For a fortnight
after, he protests he was ready to hang himself. About that time, I
suppose, when he heard of Kate Robinson's death, he shut himself up in his
rooms for several days--said he was not well, and could not see any body.
When he came out again, he looked wretchedly ill, and unhappy: I pitied
him--I felt the truth of what Rosamond said, 'that there is such a mixture
of good and bad in his character, as makes me change my opinion of him
every half hour.'

"He has just done me an essential service. He learnt the other day from
one of his sisters the secret reason why Lord Oldborough was displeased
with Godfrey, and why Godfrey was despatched to the West Indies.--Lord
Oldborough had been told, either by Cunningham, or by one of his sisters,
that Godfrey made love to Miss Hauton, and that when he came to town
ostensibly on some regimental business, and was pleading for a brother
officer, his concealed motive was to break off the marriage of his
lordship's niece. Buckhurst had been at the opera in the same box with
Miss Hauton and with my brother Godfrey one night. Godfrey's conduct had
been misrepresented, and as soon as Buckhurst found that Lord Oldborough
had been deceived, he was determined that he should know the truth; or,
at least, that he should know that my brother was not to blame. Godfrey
never mentioned the subject to me; but, from what I can understand, the
lady showed him _distinguished attention_. How Buckhurst Falconer managed
to _right_ my brother in Lord Oldborough's opinion without _involving_
the young lady, I do not know.--He said that he had fortunately had an
opportunity one evening at his father's, when he was playing at chess with
Lord Oldborough, of speaking to him on that subject, when none of his
family was watching him. He told me that Lord Oldborough desires to see me,
and has appointed his hour to-morrow morning. Now, Rosamond, my dear, set
your imagination to work; I must go and draw a _replication_, which will
keep mine fast bound.

"Yours truly,

"Alfred Percy."

At the appointed hour, Alfred waited upon the minister, and was received
graciously. Not one word of Godfrey, however, or of any thing leading to
that subject. Lord Oldborough spoke to Alfred as to the son of his old
friend. He began by lamenting the misfortunes which had deprived Mr. Percy
of that estate and station to which he had done honour. His lordship
went on to say that he was sorry that Mr. Percy's love of retirement, or
pride of independence, precluded all idea of seeing him in parliament;
but he hoped that Mr. Percy's sons were, in this extravagant notion of
independence, and in this _only_, unlike their father.

With all due deference, Alfred took the liberty of replying to the word
_extravagant_, and endeavoured to explain that his father's ideas of
independence did not go beyond just bounds: Lord Oldborough, contrary to
his usual custom when he met with any thing like contradiction, did not
look displeased; on the contrary, he complimented Alfred on his being a
good advocate. Alfred was going to _fall into a commonplace_, about a good
cause; but from that he was happily saved by Lord Oldborough's changing the
conversation.

He took up a pamphlet which lay upon his table. It was Cunningham
Falconer's, that is to say, the pamphlet which was published in
Cunningham's name, and for which he was mean enough to take the credit
from the poor starving genius in the garret. Lord Oldborough turned over
the leaves. "Here is a passage that was quoted yesterday at dinner at
Commissioner Falconer's, but I don't think that any of the company, or the
commissioner himself, though he is, or was, a reading man, could recollect
to what author it alludes."

Lord Oldborough pointed to the passage: "_Thus the fame of heroes is at
last neglected by their worshippers, and left to the care of the birds of
heaven, or abandoned to the serpents of the earth._"

Alfred fortunately recollected that this alluded to a description in Arrian
of the island of Achilles, the present Isle of Serpents, where there is
that temple of the hero, of which, as the historian says, "the care is left
to the birds alone, who every morning repair to the sea, wet their wings,
and sprinkle the temple, afterwards sweeping with their plumage its sacred
pavement."

Lord Oldborough smiled, and said, "The author--the reputed author of this
pamphlet, sir, is obliged to you for throwing light upon a passage which he
could not himself elucidate."

This speech of Lord Oldborough's alluded to something that had passed at
a dinner at Lord Skreene's, the day before Cunningham had set out on his
embassy. Cunningham had been _posed_ by this passage, for which Secretary
Cope, who hated him, had maliciously complimented him, and besought him to
explain it. Secretary Cope, who was a poet, made an epigram on Cunningham
the diplomatist. The lines we do not remember. The points of it were, that
Cunningham was so complete a diplomatist, that he would not commit himself
by giving up his authority, even for a quotation, and that when he knew
the author of an excellent thing, he, with admirable good faith, _kept it
to himself_. This epigram remained at the time a profound secret to Lord
Oldborough. Whilst Cunningham was going with a prosperous gale, it was not
heard of; but it worked round, according to the manoeuvres of courts, just
by the time the tide of favour began to ebb. Lord Oldborough, dissatisfied
with one of Cunningham's despatches, was heard to say, as he folded it up,
"_A slovenly performance_!"

Then, at the happy moment, stepped in the rival Secretary Cope, and put
into his lordship's hands the epigram and the anecdote.

All this the reader is to take as a note explanatory upon Lord Oldborough's
last speech to Alfred, and now to go on with the conversation--at the word
_elucidate_.

"I suspect," continued his lordship, "that Mr. Alfred Percy knows more of
this pamphlet altogether than the reputed author ever did."

Alfred felt himself change colour, and the genius in the garret rushed upon
his mind; at the same instant he recollected that he was not at liberty to
name Mr. Temple, and that he must not betray Cunningham. Alfred answered
that it was not surprising he should know the pamphlet well, as he probably
admired it more, and had read it oftener, than the author himself had ever
done.

"Very well parried, young gentleman. You will not allow, then, that you had
any hand in writing it?"

"No, my lord," said Alfred, "I had none whatever; I never saw it till it
was published."

"I have not a right, in politeness, to press the question. Permit me,
however, to say, that it is a performance of which any man might be proud."

"I should, my lord, be proud--very proud, if I had written it; but I am
incapable of assuming a merit that is not mine, and I trust the manner in
which I now disclaim it does not appear like the affected modesty of an
author who wishes to have that believed which he denies. I hope I convince
your lordship of the truth."

"I cannot have any doubt of what you assert in this serious manner, sir.
May I ask if you can tell me the name of the real author?"

"Excuse me, my lord--I cannot. I have answered your lordship with perfect
openness, as far as I am concerned."

"Sir," said Lord Oldborough, "I confess that I began this conversation with
the prepossession that you were equal to a performance of which I think
highly, but you have succeeded in convincing me that I was mistaken--that
you are not equal--but superior to it."

Upon this compliment, Alfred, as he thought the force of politeness could
no farther go, rose, bowed, and prepared to retire.

"Are you in a hurry to leave me, Mr. Percy?"

"Quite the contrary, but I was afraid of encroaching upon your lordship's
goodness; I know that your time is most valuable, and that your lordship
has so much business of importance."

"Perhaps Mr. Alfred Percy may assist me in saving time hereafter."

Alfred sat down again, as his lordship's eye desired it.--Lord Oldborough
remained for a few moments silent, leaning upon his arm on the table, deep
in thought.

"Yes, sir," said he, "I certainly have, as you say, much business upon my
hands. But _that_ is not the difficulty; with hands and heads business is
easily arranged and expedited. I have hands and heads enough at my command.
Talents of all sorts can be obtained for their price, but that which is
above all price, integrity, cannot--there's the difficulty--there is my
difficulty. I have not a single man about me whom I can trust--many who
understand my views, but none who feel them--'_Des ames de boue et de
fange!_' Wretches who care not if the throne and the country perish, if
their little interests--Young gentleman," said he, recollecting himself,
and turning to Alfred, "I feel as if I were speaking to a part of your
father when I am speaking to you."

Alfred felt this, and Lord Oldborough saw that he felt it strongly.

"_Then_, my dear sir," said he, "you understand me--I see we understand and
shall suit one another. I am in want of a secretary to supply the place
of Mr. Cunningham Falconer. Mr. Drakelow is going to Constantinople; but
he shall first initiate his successor in the business of his office--a
routine, which little minds would make great minds believe is a mystery
above ordinary comprehension. But, sir, I have no doubt that you will
be expert in a very short time in the technical part--in the routine of
office; and if it suits your views, in one word, I should be happy to have
you for my private secretary. Take time to consider, if you do not wish
to give an answer immediately; but I beg that you will consult no one but
yourself--not even your father. And as soon as your mind is made up, let me
know your decision."

After returning thanks to the minister, who had, by this time, risen to a
prodigious height in Alfred's opinion; after having reiterated his thanks
with a warmth which was not displeasing, he retired. The account of his
feelings on this occasion is given with much _truth_ in his own letter,
from which we extract the passage:

"I believe I felt a little like Gil Blas after his first visit at court.
Vapours of ambition certainly mounted into my head, and made me a little
giddy; that night I did not sleep quite so well as usual. The bar and the
court, Lord Oldborough and my special pleader, were continually before my
eyes balancing in my imagination all the _pros_ and _cons_. I fatigued
myself, but could neither rest nor decide. Seven years of famine at the
bar--horrible! but then independence and liberty of conscience--and in
time, success--the certain reward of industry--well-earned wealth--perhaps
honours--why not the highest professional honours? The life of a party-man
and a politician, agreed by all who have tried, even by this very Lord
Oldborough himself, agreed to be an unhappy life--obliged to live with
people I despise--might be tempted, like others, to do things for which
I should despise myself--subject to caprice--at best, my fortune quite
dependent on my patron's continuance in power--power and favour uncertain.

"It was long before I got my pros and cons even into this rude preparation
for comparison, and longer still before the logical process of giving
to each good and evil its just value, and drawing clear deductions from
distinct premises, could be accomplished. However, in four-and-twenty hours
I solved the problem.

"I waited upon Lord Oldborough to tell him my conclusion. With professions
of gratitude, respect, and attachment, more sincere, I fancy, than those
he usually hears, I began; and ended by telling him, in the best manner I
could, that I thought my trade was more honest than his, and that, hard as
a lawyer's life was, I preferred it to a politician's.--You don't suspect
me of saying all this--no, I was not quite so brutal; but, perhaps, it was
implied by my declining the honour of the secretaryship, and preferring to
abide by my profession. Lord Oldborough looked--or my vanity fancied that
he looked--disappointed. After a pause of silent displeasure, he said,
'Well, sir, upon the whole I believe you have decided wisely. I am sorry
that you cannot serve me, and that I cannot serve you in the manner which
I had proposed. Yours is a profession in which ministerial support can
be of little use, but in which talents, perseverance, and integrity, are
secure, sooner or later, of success. I have, therefore, only to wish you
opportunity: and if any means in my power should occur of accelerating that
opportunity, you may depend upon it, sir.' said his lordship, holding out
his hand to me, 'I shall not forget you--even if you were not the son of my
old friend, you have made an interest for yourself in my mind.'

"Thus satisfactorily we parted--no--just as I reached the door, his
lordship added, 'Your brother, Captain Percy--have you heard from him
lately?'

"'Yes, my lord, from Plymouth, where they were driven back by contrary
winds.'

"'Ha!--he was well, I hope?'

"'Very well, I thank your lordship.'

"'That's well--he is a temperate man, I think. So he will stand the climate
of the West Indies--and, probably, it will not be necessary for his
majesty's service that he should remain there long.'

"I bowed--was again retiring and was again recalled.

"'There was a major in your brother's regiment about whom Captain Percy
spoke to me--Major--'

"'Gascoigne, I believe, my lord.'

"'Gascoigne--true--Gascoigne.' His lordship wrote the name down in a
note-book.

"Bows for the last time--not a word more on either side.

"And now that I have written all this to you, my dear mother, I am almost
ashamed to send it--because it is so full of egotism. But Rosamond, the
_excuser general_, will apologize for me, by pleading that I was obliged to
tell the truth, and the whole truth.

"Love to Caroline, and thanks for her letter.--Love to Rosamond, upon
condition that she will write to me from Hungerford Castle, and cheer my
solitude in London with news from the country, and from home.

"Your affectionate son,

"ALFRED PERCY.

"P.S. I hope you all like O'Brien."

We hope the reader will recollect the poor Irishman, whose leg the surgeon
had condemned to be cut off, but which was saved by Erasmus. A considerable
time afterwards, one morning, when Erasmus was just getting up, he heard
a loud knock at his door, and in one and the same instant pushing past
his servant into his bedchamber, and to the foot of his bed, rushed this
Irishman O'Brien, breathless, and with a face perspiring joy. "I axe your
honour's pardon, master, but it's what you're wanting down street in all
haste--here's an elegant case for ye, doctor dear!--That painter-jantleman
down in the square there beyond that is not _expicted_."

"Not expected!" said Erasmus.

"Ay, not expected: so put on ye with the speed of light--Where's his
waistcoat," continued he, turning to Dr. Percy's astonished servant, "and
coat?--the top coat, and the wig--has he one?--Well! boots or shoes give
him any way."

"But I don't clearly understand--Pray did this gentleman send for me?" said
Dr. Percy.

"Send for your honour! Troth he never thought of it--no, nor couldn't--how
could he? and he in the way he was and is. But God bless ye! and never mind
shaving, or another might get it afore we'd be back. Though there was none
_in it_ but myself when I left it--but still keep on buttoning for the
life."

Erasmus dressed as quickly as he could, not understanding, however, above
one word in ten that had been said to him. His servant, who did not
comprehend even one word, endeavoured in vain to obtain an explanation; but
O'Brien, paying no regard to his solemn face of curiosity, put him aside
with his hand, and continuing to address Dr. Percy, followed him about the
room.

"Master! you mind my _mintioning_ to you last time I _seen_ your honour,
that my leg was weak _by times_, no fault though to the doctor that cured
it--so I could not be _after carrying_ the weighty loads I used up and
down the ladders at every call, so I quit _sarving_ the masons, and sought
for lighter work, and found an employ that _shuted_ me with a jantleman
painter", grinding of his colours, and that was what I was at this morning,
so I was, and standing as close to him as I am this minute to your honour,
thinking of nothing at all just now, please your honour, _forenent_
him--_asy_ grinding, _whin_ he took some sort or kind of a fit."

"A fit! Why did you not tell me that sooner?"

"Sure I _tould_ you he was not _expicted_,--that is, if you don't know in
England, _not expicted to live_; and sure I _tould_ your honour so from
the first," said O'Brien. "But then the jantleman was as well as I am this
minute, that minute afore--and the _nixt_ fell his length on the floor
entirely. Well! I set and up again, and, for want of better, filled out a
thimble-full, say, of the spirits of wine as they call it, which he got by
good luck for the varnish, and made him take it down, and he come to, and
I axed him how was he after it?--Better, says he. That's well, says I; and
who will I send for to ye, sir? says I. But afore he could make answer, I
bethought me of your own honour; and for fear he would say another, I never
troubled him, putting the question to him again, but just set the spirits
nigh hand him, and away with me here; I come off without _letting on_ a
word to nobody, good or bad, in dread your honour would miss the job."

"Job!" said Dr. Percy's servant: "do you think my master wants a job?"

"Oh! Lord love ye, and just give his hat. Would you have us be standing on
ceremony now in a case of life and death?"

Dr. Percy was, as far as he understood it, of the Irishman's way of
thinking. He followed as fast as he could to the painter's--found that he
had had a slight paralytic stroke, from which he had recovered. We need not
detail the particulars. Nature and Dr. Percy _brought him through_. He was
satisfied with his physician; for Erasmus would not take any fee, because
he went unsent for by the patient. The painter, after his recovery, was one
day complimenting Dr. Percy on the inestimable service he had done the arts
in restoring him to his pencil, in proof of which the artist showed many
master-pieces that wanted only the finishing touch, in particular a huge,
long-limbed, fantastic, allegorical piece of his own design, which he
assured Dr. Percy was the finest example of the _beau ideal_, ancient or
modern, that human genius had ever produced upon canvas. "And what do
you think, doctor," said the painter, "tell me what you can think of a
connoisseur, a patron, sir, who could stop my hand, and force me from that
immortal work to a portrait? A portrait! Barbarian! He fit to encourage
genius! He set up to be a Mecaenas! Mere vanity! Gives pensions to four
sign-post daubers, not fit to grind my colours! Knows no more of the art
than that fellow," pointing to the Irishman, who was at that instant
grinding the colours--_asy_ as he described himself.