Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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The day Alfred Percy was introduced to the chief justice, the conversation
began, from some slight remarks made by one of the company, on the acting
of Mrs. Siddons. A lady who had just been reading the memoirs of the
celebrated French actress, Mademoiselle Clairon, spoke of the astonishing
pains which she took to study her parts, and to acquire what the French
call _l'air noble_, continually endeavouring, on the most common occasions,
when she was off the stage, to avoid all awkward motions, and in her
habitual manner to preserve an air of grace and dignity. This led the chief
justice to mention the care which Lord Chatham, Mr. Pitt, and other great
orators, have taken to form their habits of speaking, by unremitting
attention to their language in private as well as in public. He maintained
that no man _can_ speak with ease and security in public till custom has
brought him to feel it as a moral impossibility that he could be guilty
of any petty vulgarism, or that he could be convicted of any capital sin
against grammar.

Alfred felt anxious to hear the chief justice farther on this subject, but
the conversation was dragged back to Mademoiselle Clairon. The lady by
whom she was first mentioned declared she thought that all Mademoiselle
Clairon's studying must have made her a very unnatural actress. The chief
justice quoted the answer which Mademoiselle Clairon gave, when she was
reproached with having too much art.--"_De l'art! et que voudroit-on done
que j'eusse? Etois-je Andromaque? Etois-je Phedre?_"

Alfred observed that those who complained of an actress's having too much
art should rather complain of her having too little--of her not having art
enough to conceal her art.

The chief justice honoured Alfred by a nod and a smile.

The lady, however, protested against this doctrine, and concluded by
confessing that she always did and always should prefer nature to art.

From this commonplace confession, the chief justice, by a playful
cross-examination, presently made it apparent that we do not always know
what we mean by art and what by nature; that the ideas are so mixed in
civilized society, and the words so inaccurately used, both in common
conversation, and in the writings of philosophers, that no metaphysical
prism can separate or reduce them to their primary meaning. Next he touched
upon the distinction between art and artifice. The conversation branched
out into remarks on grace and affectation, and thence to the different
theories of beauty and taste, with all which he _played_ with a master's
hand.

A man accustomed to speak to numbers perceives immediately when his
auditors seize his ideas, and knows instantly, by the assent and expression
of the eye, to whom they are new or to whom they are familiar. The chief
justice discovered that Alfred Percy had superior knowledge, literature,
and talents, even before he spoke, by his manner of listening. The
conversation presently passed from _l'air noble_ to _le style noble_,
and to the French laws of criticism, which prohibit the descending to
allusions to arts and manufactures. This subject he discussed deeply,
yet rapidly observed how taste is influenced by different governments
and manners--remarked how the strong line of demarcation formerly kept
in France between the nobility and the citizens had influenced taste in
writing and in eloquence, and how our more _popular_ government not only
admitted allusions to the occupations of the lower classes, but required
them. Our orators at elections, and in parliament, must speak so as to come
home to the feelings and vocabulary of constituents. Examples from Burke
and others, the chief justice said, might be brought in support of this
opinion.

Alfred was so fortunate as to recollect some apposite illustrations from
Burke, and from several of our great orators, Wyndham, Erskine, Mackintosh,
and Romilly. As Alfred spoke, the chief justice's eye brightened with
approbation, and it was observed that he afterwards addressed to him
particularly his conversation; and, more flattering still, that he went
deeper into the subject which he had been discussing. From one of the
passages which had been mentioned, he took occasion to answer the argument
of the French critics, who justify their taste by asserting that it is the
taste of the ancients. Skilled in classical as in modern literature, he
showed that the ancients had made allusions to arts and manufactures, as
far as their knowledge went; but, as he observed, in modern times new arts
and sciences afford fresh subjects of allusion unknown to the ancients;
consequently we ought not to restrict our taste by exclusive reverence
for classical precedents. On these points it is requisite to reform the
pandects of criticism.

Another passage from Burke, to which Alfred had alluded, the chief
justice thought too rich in ornament. "Ornaments," he said, "if not
kept subordinate, however intrinsically beautiful, injure the general
effect--therefore a judicious orator will sacrifice all such as draw the
attention from his principal design."

Alfred Percy, in support of this opinion, cited the example of the Spanish
painter, who obliterated certain beautiful silver vases, which he had
introduced in a picture of the Lord's Supper, because he found, that at
first view, every spectator's eye was caught by these splendid ornaments,
and every one extolled their exquisite finish, instead of attending to the
great subject of the piece.

The chief justice was so well pleased with the conversation of our young
barrister, that, at parting, he gave Alfred an invitation to his house. The
conversation had been very different from what might have been expected:
metaphysics, belles-lettres, poetry, plays, criticism--what a range of
ideas, far from Coke and Selden, was gone over this evening in the course
of a few hours! Alfred had reason to be more and more convinced of the
truth of his father's favourite doctrine, that the general cultivation of
the understanding, and the acquirement of general knowledge, are essential
to the attainment of excellence in any profession, useful to a young man
particularly in introducing him to the notice of valuable friends and
acquaintance.

An author well skilled in the worst parts of human nature has asserted,
that "nothing is more tiresome than praises in which we have no manner of
share." Yet we, who have a better opinion of our kind, trust that there are
some who can sympathize in the enthusiasm of a good and young mind, struck
with splendid talents, and with a superior character; therefore we venture
to insert some of the warm eulogiums, with which we find our young lawyer's
letters filled.

"My DEAR FATHER,

"I have only a few moments to write, but cannot delay to answer your
question about the chief justice. _Disappointed_--no danger of that--he far
surpasses my expectations. It has been said that he never opened a book,
that he never heard a common ballad, or saw a workman at his trade, without
learning something, which he afterwards turned to good account. This you
may see in his public speeches, but I am more completely convinced of it
since I have heard him converse. His illustrations are drawn from the
workshop, the manufactory, the mine, the mechanic, the poet--from every art
and science, from every thing in nature, animate or inanimate.

'From gems, from flames, from orient rays of light,
The richest lustre makes his purple bright.'

"Perhaps I am writing his panegyric because he is my lord chief justice,
and because I dined with him yesterday, and am to dine with him again
to-morrow.

"Yours affectionately,

"ALFRED PERCY."

In a subsequent letter he shows that his admiration increased instead of
diminishing, upon a more intimate acquaintance with its object.

"High station," says Alfred, "appears to me much more desirable, since I
have known this great man. He makes rank so gracious, and shows that it is
a pleasurable, not a 'painful pre-eminence,' when it gives the power of
raising others, and of continually doing kind and generous actions. Mr.
Friend tells me, that, before the chief justice was so high as he is now,
without a rival in his profession, he was ever the most generous man to his
competitors. I am sure he is now the most kind and condescending to his
inferiors. In company he is never intent upon himself, seems never anxious
about his own dignity or his own fame. He is sufficiently sure of both to
be quite at ease. He excites my ambition, and exalts its nature and value.

"He has raised my esteem for my profession, by showing the noble use that
can be made of it, in defending right and virtue. He has done my mind
good in another way: he has shown me that professional labour is not
incompatible with domestic pleasures. I wish you could see him as I do,
in the midst of his family, with his fine children playing about him,
with his wife, a charming cultivated woman, who adores him, and who is
his best companion and friend. Before I knew the chief justice, I had
seen other great lawyers and judges, some of them crabbed old bachelors,
others uneasily yoked to vulgar helpmates--having married early in life
women whom they had dragged up as they rose, but who were always pulling
them down--had seen some of these learned men sink into mere epicures,
and become dead to intellectual enjoyment--others, with higher minds,
and originally fine talents, I had seen in premature old age, with
understandings contracted and palsied by partial or overstrained exertion,
worn out, mind and body, and only late, very late in life, just attaining
wealth and honours, when they were incapable of enjoying them. This had
struck me as a deplorable and discouraging spectacle--a sad termination of
a life of labour. But now I see a man in the prime of life, in the full
vigour of all his intellectual faculties and moral sensibility, with a high
character, fortune, and professional honours, all obtained by his own merit
and exertions, with the prospect of health and length of days to enjoy and
communicate happiness. Exulting in the sight of this resplendent luminary,
and conscious that it will guide and cheer me forwards, I 'bless the useful
light.'"

Our young lawyer was so honestly enthusiastic in his admiration of this
great man, and was so full of the impression that had been made on his
mind, that he forgot in this letter to advert to the advantage which, in a
professional point of view, he might derive from the good opinion formed of
him by the chief justice. In consequence of Solicitor Babington's telling
his clients the share which Alfred had in winning Colonel Hauton's cause,
he was employed in a suit of considerable importance, in which a great
landed property was at stake. It was one of those standing suits which
last from year to year, and which seem likely to linger on from generation
to generation. Instead of considering his brief in this cause merely as
a means of obtaining a fee, instead of contenting himself to make some
_motion of course_, which fell to his share, Alfred set himself seriously
to study the case, and searched indefatigably for all the precedents that
could bear upon it. He was fortunate enough, or rather he was persevering
enough, to find an old case in point, which had escaped the attention of
the other lawyers. Mr. Friend was one of the senior counsel in this cause,
and he took generous care that Alfred's merit should not now, as upon
a former occasion, he concealed. Mr. Friend prevailed upon his brother
barristers to agree in calling upon Alfred to speak to his own _case in
point_; and the chief justice, who presided, said, "This case is new to me.
This had escaped me, Mr. Percy; I must take another day to reconsider the
matter, before I can pronounce judgment."

This from the chief justice, with the sense which Alfred's brother
barristers felt of his deserving such notice, was of immediate and material
advantage to our young lawyer. Attorneys and solicitors turned their eyes
upon him, briefs began to flow in, and his diligence increased with his
business. As junior counsel, he still had little opportunity in the common
course of things of distinguishing himself, as it frequently fell to his
share only to say a few words; but he never failed to make himself master
of every case in which he was employed. And it happened one day, when the
senior counsel was ill, the judge called upon the next barrister.--"Mr.
Trevors, are you prepared?"

"My lord--I can't say--no, my lord."

"Mr. Percy, are you prepared?"

"Yes, my lord."

"So I thought--always prepared: go on, sir--go on, Mr. Percy."

He went on, and spoke so ably, and with such comprehensive knowledge of the
case and of the law, that he obtained a decision in favour of his client,
and established his own reputation as a man of business and of talents,
who was _always prepared_. For the manner in which he was brought forward
and distinguished by the chief justice he was truly grateful. This was
a species of patronage honourable both to the giver and the receiver.
Here was no favour shown disproportionate to deserts, but here was just
distinction paid to merit, and generous discernment giving talents
opportunity of developing themselves. These opportunities would only have
been the ruin of a man who could not show himself equal to the occasion;
but this was not the case with Alfred. His capacity, like the fairy tent,
seemed to enlarge so as to contain all that it was necessary to comprehend:
and new powers appeared in him in new situations.

Alfred had been introduced by his brother Erasmus to some of those men of
literature with whom he had become acquainted at Lady Spilsbury's good
dinners. Among these was a Mr. Dunbar, a gentleman who had resided for many
years in India, from whom Alfred, who constantly sought for information
from all with whom he conversed, had learned much of Indian affairs. Mr.
Dunbar had collected some curious tracts on Mohammedan law, and glad
to find an intelligent auditor on his favourite subject, a subject not
generally interesting, he willingly communicated all he knew to Alfred,
and lent him his manuscripts and scarce tracts, which Alfred, in the many
leisure hours that a young lawyer can command before he gets into practice,
had studied, and of which he had made himself master. It happened a
considerable time afterwards that the East India Company had a cause--one
of the greatest causes ever brought before our courts of law--relative to
the demand of some native bankers in Hindostan against the company for
upwards of four millions of rupees. This Mr. Dunbar, who had a considerable
interest in the cause, and who was intimate with several of the directors,
recommended it to them to employ Mr. Alfred Percy, who, as he knew, had had
ample means of information, and who had studied a subject of which few of
his brother barristers had any knowledge. The very circumstance of his
being employed in a cause of such importance was of great advantage to him;
and the credit he gained by accurate and uncommon knowledge in the course
of the suit at once raised his reputation among the best judges, and
_established_ him in the courts.

On another occasion, Alfred's moral character was as serviceable as his
literary taste had been in recommending him to his clients. Buckhurst
Falconer had introduced him to a certain Mr. Clay, known by the name of
_French_ Clay. In a conversation after dinner, when the ladies had retired,
Mr. Clay had boasted of his successes with the fair sex, and had expressed
many sentiments that marked him for a profligate coxcomb.

Alfred felt disgust and indignation for this parade of vice. There was
one officer in company who strongly sympathized in his feelings; this led
to farther acquaintance and mutual esteem. This officer soon afterwards
married Lady Harriet ----, a beautiful young woman, with whom he lived
happily for some time, till, unfortunately, while her husband was abroad
with his regiment, chance brought the wife, at a watering-place, into the
company of French Clay, and imprudence, the love of flattery, coquetry, and
self-confidence, made her a victim to his vanity. Love he had none--nor she
either--but her disgrace was soon discovered, or revealed; and her unhappy
and almost distracted husband immediately commenced a suit against Clay. He
chose Alfred Percy for his counsel. In this cause, where strong feelings
of indignation were justly roused, and where there was room for oratory,
Alfred spoke with such force and pathos that every honest heart was
touched. The verdict of the jury showed the impression which he had made
upon them: his speech was universally admired; and those who had till now
known him only as a man of business, and a sound lawyer, were surprised to
find him suddenly display such powers of eloquence. Counsellor Friend's
plain advice to him had always been, "Never harangue about nothing: if
your client require it, he is a fool, and never mind him; never speak till
you've something to say, and then only say what you have to say.

'Words are like leaves, and where they most abound,
Much fruit of solid sense is seldom found.'"

Friend now congratulated Alfred with all his honest affectionate heart, and
said, with a frown that struggled hard with a smile, "Well, I believe I
must allow you to be an orator. But, take care--don't let the lawyer merge
in the advocate. Bear it always in mind, that a mere man of words at the
bar--or indeed any where else--is a mere man of straw."

The chief justice, who knew how to say the kindest things in the most
polite manner, was heard to observe, that "Mr. Percy had done wisely, to
begin by showing that he had laid a solid foundation of law, on which the
ornaments of oratory could be raised high, and supported securely."

French Clay's _affair_ with Lady Harriot had been much talked of in the
fashionable world; from a love of scandal or a love of justice, from zeal
in the cause of morality or from natural curiosity, her trial had been a
matter of general interest to the ladies, young and old. In consequence Mr.
Alfred Percy's speech was _prodigiously_ read, and, from various motives,
highly applauded. When a man begins to rise, all hands--all hands but the
hands of his rivals--are ready to push him up, and all tongues exclaim,
"'Twas I helped!" or, "'Twas what I always foretold!"

The Lady Angelica Headingham now bethought herself that she had a little
poem, written by Mr. Alfred Percy, which had been given to her long ago by
Miss Percy, and of which, at the time she received it, her ladyship had
thought so little, that hardly deigning to bestow the customary tribute of
a compliment, she had thrown it, scarcely perused, into her writing-box.
It was now worth while to rummage for it, and now, when the author had a
_name_, her ladyship discovered that the poem was charming--absolutely
charming! Such an early indication of talents! Such a happy promise of
genius!--Oh! she had always foreseen that Mr. Alfred Percy would make an
uncommon figure in the world!

"Bless me! does your ladyship know him?"

"Oh! intimately!--That is, I never saw _him_ exactly--but all his family
I've known intimately--ages ago in the country."

"I should so like to meet him! And do pray give me a copy of the
verses--and me!--and me!"

To work went the pens of all the female amateurs, in scribbling copies
of "_The Lawyer's May-day_."--And away went the fair patroness in search
of the author--introduced herself with unabashed grace, invited him for
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday--Engaged? how unfortunate!--Well, for
next week? a fortnight hence? three weeks? positively she must have him at
her conversazione--she must give him--No, he must give her a day, he must
consent to lose a day--so many of her friends and real judges were dying to
see him.

To save the lives of so many judges, he consented to lose an evening--the
day was fixed--Alfred found her conversazione very brilliant--was
admired--and admired others in his turn as much as was expected. It was
an agreeable variety of company and of thought to him, and he promised
to go sometimes to her ladyship's parties--a promise which delighted her
much, particularly as he had not yet given a copy of the verses to Lady
Spilsbury. Lady Spilsbury, to whom the verses quickly worked round, was
quite angry that her friend Erasmus had not given her an early copy; and
now invitations the most pressing came from Lady Spilsbury to her excellent
literary dinners. If Alfred had been so disposed, he might, among these
fetchers and carriers of bays, have been extolled to the skies; but he had
too much sense and prudence to lose the substance for the shadow, to sink a
solid character into a _drawing-room reputation_. Of this he had seen the
folly in Buckhurst Falconer's case, and now, if any farther warning on this
subject had been wanting, he would have taken it from the example of _poor_
Seebright, the poet, whom he met the second time he went to Lady Angelica
Headingham's. _Poor Seebright_, as the world already began to call him,
from being an object of admiration, was beginning to sink into an object
of pity. Instead of making himself independent by steady exertions in
any respectable profession, instead of making his way in the republic
of letters by some solid work of merit, he frittered away his time among
fashionable amateurs, feeding upon their flattery, and living on in
the vain hope of patronage. Already the flight of his genius had been
restrained, the force of his wing impaired; instead of soaring superior, he
kept hovering near the earth; his "kestrel courage fell," he appeared to
be almost tamed to the domestic state to which he was reduced--yet now and
then a rebel sense of his former freedom, and of his present degradation,
would appear. "Ah! if I were but independent as you are! If I had but
followed a profession as you have done!" said he to Alfred, when, apart
from the crowd, they had an opportunity of conversing confidentially.

Alfred replied that it was not yet too late, that it was never too late for
a man of spirit and talents to make himself independent; he then suggested
to Mr. Seebright various ways of employing his powers, and pointed out some
useful and creditable literary undertakings, by which he might acquire
reputation. Seebright listened, his eye eagerly catching at each new
idea the first moment, the next turning off to something else, raising
objections futile or fastidious, seeing nothing impossible in any dream of
his imagination, where no effort of exertion was requisite, but finding
every thing impracticable when he came to sober reality, where he was
called upon to labour. In fact, he was one of the sort of people who do
not know what they want, or what they would be, who complain and complain;
disappointed and discontented, at having sunk below their powers and their
hopes, and are yet without capability of persevering exertion to emerge
from their obscurity. Seebright was now become an inefficient being, whom
no one could assist to any good purpose. Alfred, after a long, mazy,
fruitless conversation, was convinced that the case was hopeless, and,
sincerely pitying him, gave it up as irremediable. Just as he had come to
this conclusion, and had sunk into silence, a relation of his, whom he had
not seen for a considerable time, entered the room, and passed by without
noticing him. She was so much altered in her appearance, that he could
scarcely believe he saw Lady Jane Granville; she looked out of spirits, and
care-worn. He immediately observed that less attention was paid to her than
she used to command; she had obviously sunk considerably in importance, and
appeared to feel this keenly. Upon inquiry, Alfred learnt that she had lost
a large portion of her fortune by a lawsuit, which she had managed, that is
to say, mismanaged, for herself; and she was still at law for the remainder
of her estate, which, notwithstanding her right was undoubted, it was
generally supposed that she would lose, for the same reason that occasioned
her former failure, her pertinacity in following her own advice only.
Alfred knew that there had been some misunderstanding between Lady Jane
and his family, that she had been offended by his sister Caroline having
declined accepting her invitation to town, and from Mr. and Mrs. Percy
having differed with her in opinion as to the value of the _patronage_
of fashion: she had also been displeased with Erasmus about Sir Amyas
Courtney. Notwithstanding all this, he was convinced that Lady Jane,
whatever her opinions might be, and whether mistaken or not, had been
actuated by sincere regard for his family, for which he and they were
grateful; and now was the time to show it, now when he was coming into
notice in the world, and she declining in importance. Therefore, though she
had passed by him without recognizing him, he went immediately and spoke
to her in so respectful and kind a manner, paid her the whole evening such
marked attention, that she was quite pleased and touched. In reality, she
had been vexed with herself for having persisted so long in her resentment;
she wished for a fair opportunity for a reconciliation, and she rejoiced
that Alfred thus opened the way for it. She invited him to come to see her
the next day, observing, as she put her card into his hand, that she no
longer lived in her fine house in St. James's place. Now that his motives
could not be mistaken, he was assiduous in his visits; and when he had
sufficiently obtained her confidence, he ventured to touch upon her
affairs. She, proud to convince him of her abilities as a woman of
business, explained her whole case, and descanted upon the blunders and
folly of her solicitors and counsellors, especially upon the absurdity
of the opinions which she had not followed. Her cause depended upon the
_replication_ she was to put in to a plea in special pleading: she thought
she saw the way straight before her, and exclaimed vehemently against that
love of the crooked path by which her lawyers seemed possessed.