Tales and Novels, Vol. VII by Maria Edgeworth

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

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"Mr. Bland, after slightly looking at it, said, 'the leg must come off,
the sooner the better.' The man, perceiving that I pitied him, cast such
a beseeching look at me, as made me interpose, impertinently perhaps, but
I could not resist it. I forget what I said; but I know the sense of it
was, that I thought the poor fellow's leg could and ought to be saved.--I
remember Dr. Frumpton glared upon me instantly with eyes of fury, and asked
how I dared to interfere in a surgical case; and to contradict his friend,
Mr. Bland, a surgeon!

"They prepared for the operation--the surgeon whipped on his mittens--the
poor man, who was almost fainting with loss of blood, cast another piteous
look at me, and said, in an Irish accent, 'Long life to you, dear!--and
don't let'm--for what will I be without a leg? And my wife and children!'

"He fell back in a swoon, and I sprung between the surgeon and him;
insisting that, as he had appealed to me, he should be left to me; and
declared that I would have him carried to St. George's Hospital, where I
knew he would be taken care of properly.

"Frumpton stamped, and scarcely articulate with rage, bade me--'stir the
man at your peril!' adding expressions injurious to the hospital, with the
governors of which he had some quarrel. I made a sign to the workmen who
had brought in the wounded man; they lifted him instantly, and carried him
out before me; and one of them, being his countryman, followed, crying
aloud, '_Success_ to your honour! and may you _never_ want a _friend_!'

"Frumpton seized him by both shoulders, and pushing him out of the house,
exclaimed, 'Success, by G----, he shall never have, if I can help it! He
has lost a friend such as he can never get again--By G--, I'll make him
repent this!'

"Unmoved by these denunciations, I pursued my way to the hospital. You know
in what an admirable manner the London hospitals are conducted.--At St.
George's this poor man was received, and attended with the greatest care
and skill. The surgeon who has taken charge of him assures me that his leg
will, a month hence, be as useful as any leg in London.

"Dr. Frumpton and Mr. Bland have, I find, loudly complained of my
interference, as contrary to all medical etiquette--_Etiquette!_--from
Frumpton!--The story has been told with many exaggerations, and always to
my disadvantage.--I cannot, however, repent.--Let me lose what I may, I am
satisfied with the pleasure of seeing the poor man in a way to do well.
Pray let me hear from you, my dear father, and say, if you can, that you
think me right--Thank Caroline for her letter.

"Your affectionate

"ERASMUS PERCY."

LETTER FROM ALFRED.

"My dear father, I have made all possible inquiries about Buckhurst
Falconer. He stayed at Cheltenham till about a month ago with the Hautons,
and I hear attended Miss Hauton every where: but I do not think there is
any reason to believe the report of his paying his addresses to her. The
public attention he showed her was, in my opinion, designed only to pique
Caroline, whom, I'm persuaded, he thinks (between the fits of half-a-dozen
other fancies) the first of women--as he always calls her. Rosamond need
not waste much pity on him. He is an out-of-sight-out-of-mind man. The
pleasure of the present moment is all in all with him.--He has many good
points in his disposition; but Caroline had penetration enough to see that
his character would never suit hers; and I rejoice that she gave him a
decided refusal.

"Since he came to town, he has, by his convivial powers, his good stories,
good songs, and knack of mimicry, made himself so _famous_, that he has
more invitations to dinner than he can accept. He has wit and talents fit
for more than being the buffoon or mocking-bird of a good dinner and a
pleasant party; but he seems so well contented with this _reputation de
salon_, that I am afraid his ambition will not rise to any thing higher.
After leading this idle life, and enjoying this cheap-earned praise, he
will never submit to the seclusion and application necessary for the
attainment of the great prizes of professional excellence. I doubt whether
he will even persevere so far as to be called to the bar; though the other
day when I met him in Bond-street, he assured me, and bid me assure you,
that he is getting on _famously_, and eating his terms with a prodigious
appetite. He seemed heartily glad to see me, and expressed warm gratitude
for your having saved his conscience, and having prevented his father from
forcing him, as he said, to be a disgrace to the church.

"Rosamond asks what sort of girls the Miss Falconers are, and whether the
Falconers have been civil to me since I settled in town?--Yes; pretty well.
The girls are mere _show_ girls--like a myriad of others--sing, play,
dance, dress, flirt, and _all that_. Georgiana is _beautiful sometimes_;
Arabella, _ugly always_. I don't like either of them, and they don't like
me, for I am not an eldest son. The mother was prodigiously pleased with
me at first, because she mistook me for Godfrey, or rather she mistook me
for the heir of our branch of the Percys. I hear that Mrs. Falconer has
infinite address, both as a political and hymeneal _intrigante_: but I have
not time to study her. Altogether, the family, though they live in constant
gaiety, do not give me the idea of being happy among one another. I have
no particular reason for saying this. I judge only from the tact on this
subject which I have acquired from my own happy experience.

"Love to Rosamond--I am afraid she will think I have been too severe upon
Buckhurst Falconer. I know he is a favourite, at least a _protege_ of
hers and of Godfrey. Bid her remember I have acknowledged that he has
talents and generosity; but that which interests Rosamond in his favour
inclines ill-natured me against him--his being one of Caroline's suitors.
I think he has great assurance to continue, in spite of all repulse, to
hope, especially as he does nothing to render himself more worthy of
encouragement. Thank Caroline for her letter; and assure Rosamond, that,
though I have never noticed it, I was grateful for her entertaining
account of M. de Tourville's _vis_: I confess, I am rather late with my
acknowledgments; but the fire at Percy-hall, and many events which rapidly
succeeded, put that whole affair out of my head. Moreover, the story of
Euphrosyne and Count Albert was so squeezed under the seal, that I must beg
notes of explanation in her next. Who the deuce is Euphrosyne? and what
does the letter P--for the rest of the word was torn out--stand for? and is
Count Albert a hero in a novel, or a real live man?

"I saw a live man yesterday, whom I did not at all like to see--Sharpe,
walking with our _good_ cousin, Sir Robert Percy, in close conversation.
This conjunction, I fear, bodes us no good.--Pray, do pray make another
search for _the deed_.

"Your affectionate son,

"ALFRED PERCY."

Soon after this letter had been received, and while the picture of his
life, and the portraits of his worthy companions were yet fresh in her
view, Buckhurst Falconer took the unhappy moment to write to renew his
declaration of passionate attachment to Caroline, and to beg to be
permitted to wait upon her once more.

From the indignant blush which mounted in Caroline's face on reading his
letter, Rosamond saw how unlikely it was that this request should be
granted. It came, indeed, at an unlucky time. Rosamond could not refrain
from a few words of apology, and looks of commiseration for Buckhurst; yet
she entirely approved of Caroline's answer to his letter, and the steady
repetition of her refusal, and even of the strengthened terms in which
it was now expressed. Rosamond was always prudent for her friends, when
it came to any serious point where their interests or happiness were
concerned. Her affection for her friends, and her fear of doing wrong on
such occasions, awakened her judgment, and so controlled her imagination,
that she then proved herself uncommonly judicious and discreet.--Prudence
had not, it is true, been a part of Rosamond's character in childhood;
but, in the course of her education, a considerable portion of it had been
infused by a very careful and skilful hand. Perhaps it had never completely
assimilated with the original composition: sometimes the prudence fell to
the bottom, sometimes was shaken to the top, according to the agitation or
tranquillity of her mind; sometimes it was so faintly visible, that its
existence might be doubted by the hasty observer; but when put to a proper
test, it never failed to reappear in full force.--After any effort of
discretion in conduct, Rosamond, however, often relieved and amused herself
by talking in favour of the imprudent side of the question.

"You have decided prudently, my dear Caroline, I acknowledge," said she.
"But now your letter is fairly gone; now that it is all over, and that
we are safe, I begin to think you are a little too prudent for your
age.--Bless me, Caroline, if you are so prudent at eighteen, what will
you be at thirty? Beware!--and in the mean time you will never be a
heroine--what a stupid uninteresting heroine you will make! You will never
get into any _entanglements_, never have any adventures; or if kind fate
should, propitious to my prayer, bring you into some charming difficulties,
even then we could not tremble for you, or enjoy all the luxury of pity,
because we should always know that you would be so well able to extricate
yourself--so certain to conquer, or--not die--but endure.--Recollect that
Doctor Johnson, when his learned sock was off, confessed that he could
never be thoroughly interested for Clarissa, because he knew that her
prudence would always be equal to every occasion."

Mrs. Percy began to question whether Johnson had ever expressed this
sentiment seriously: she reprobated the cruelty of _friendly_ biographers,
who publish every light expression that escapes from celebrated lips in
private conversation; she was going to have added a word or two about the
injury done to the public, to young people especially, by the spreading
such rash dogmas under the sanction of a great name.

But Rosamond did not give her mother time to enforce this moral; she went
on rapidly with her own thoughts.

"Caroline, my dear," continued she, "you shall not be my heroine; you are
too well proportioned for a heroine--in mind, I mean: a heroine may--_must_
have a finely-proportioned person, but never a well-proportioned mind.
All her virtues must be larger than the life; all her passions those of
a tragedy queen. Produce--only dare to produce--one of your reasonable
wives, mothers, daughters, or sisters on the theatre, and you would see
them hissed off the stage. Good people are acknowledged to be the bane
of the drama and the novel--I never wish to see a reasonable woman on
the stage, or an unreasonable woman off it. I have the greatest sympathy
and admiration for your true heroine in a book; but I grant you, that in
real life, in a private room, the tragedy queen would be too much for me;
and the novel heroine would be the most useless, troublesome, affected,
haranguing, egotistical, insufferable being imaginable! So, my dear
Caroline, I am content, that you are my sister, and my friend, though I
give you up as a heroine."

CHAPTER VII.

LETTER FROM GODFREY PERCY TO MRS. PERCY.

"London, the British Hotel.

"You will be surprised, my dear mother, to find that I am in London,
instead of being, as I had hoped I should have been by this time,
with the army on the continent. Just as we were going to embark, we
were countermanded, and ordered to stay at our quarters. Conceive our
disappointment--to remain in garrison at the most stupid, idle country
town in England.

"You ask how I like my brother officers, and what sort of men they
are?--Major Gascoigne, son to my father's friend, I like extremely; he is a
man of a liberal spirit, much information, and zeal for the army. But what
I particularly admire in him is his candour. He says it is his own fault
that he is not higher in the army--that when he was a very young man, he
was of too unbending a temper--mistook bluntness for sincerity--did not
treat his superior officer with proper deference--lost a good friend by it.

"A fine lesson for me! and the better, because not intended.

"Next to Gascoigne I like Captain Henry: a young man of my own age,
uncommonly handsome, but quite free from conceit. There is something in his
manners so gentlemanlike, and he is of so frank a disposition, that I was
immediately prepossessed in his favour.--I don't like him the worse for
having a tinge of proper pride, especially in the circumstances in which he
is placed. I understand that it is suspected he is not of a good family;
but I am not impertinent enough to inquire into particulars. I have been
told, that when he first came into the regiment, some of the officers
wanted to make out what family he belongs to, and whether he is, or is not,
one of the Irish Henrys. They showed their curiosity in an unwarrantable
manner; and Henry, who has great feeling, and a spirit as quick to resent
injury as to be won by kindness, was going to call one of these gentlemen
to account for his impertinence. He would have had half a dozen duels upon
his hands, if Gascoigne had not settled them. I have not time to tell you
the whole story--but it is enough to say, that Major Gascoigne showed great
address and prudence, as well as steadiness, and you would all love Captain
Henry for his gratitude--he thinks Gascoigne a demi-god.

"The rest of my brother-officers are nothing supernatural--just what you
may call mere red coats; some of them fond of high play, others fond of
drinking: so I have formed no intimacy but with Gascoigne and Henry. My
father will see that I do not _yet_ think that the officers of my own mess
must all be the first men in the universe.

"Love to all at home. I hope we shall sail soon, and I hope Rosamond will
give me credit for the length of this letter.--She cannot say, with all
her malice, that my lines are at _shooting distance_, or that my words
are stretched out like a lawyer's--two good pages, count which way you
will!--and from Godfrey, who is not a letter-writer, as Alfred is!--Two
good pages, did I say? why, here's the best part of a third for you, if you
allow me to be,

"My dear mother,
with much respect,
"Your dutiful, obedient,
and affectionate son,
"GODFREY PERCY."

Whilst Godfrey remained in quarters at this most idle and stupid of country
towns, some circumstances occurred in the regiment which put his prudence
to trial, and, sooner than he expected, called upon him for the exercise of
that spirit of forbearance and temper which he had promised his mother he
would show.--It was the more difficult to him to keep his temper, because
it was an affair which touched the interest of his friend Major Gascoigne.
The lieutenant-colonel of the regiment having been promoted, Major
Gascoigne had reasonable expectations of succeeding him; but, to his
disappointment, a younger man than himself, and a stranger to the regiment,
was put over his head. It was said that this appointment was made in
consequence of the new colonel being a nephew of Lord Skreene, and of his
also having it in his power to command two votes in parliament.

For the truth of this story we cannot pretend to vouch. But the credit
the report gained in the regiment created great discontents, which the
behaviour of the new lieutenant-colonel unfortunately was not calculated
to dissipate.--He certainly did not bear his honours meekly, but, on the
contrary, gave himself airs of authority, and played the martinet to a
useless and ridiculous degree. This, from a mere _parade officer_, who had
never been out of London, to a man like the major--who had seen service and
could show wounds--was, to use the mildest expression, ill-judged. Captain
Henry said it was _intolerable_--and Godfrey thought so.

Every parade day something unpleasant occurred, and, when it was talked
over, some of the officers took part with Gascoigne, and some with the
lieutenant-colonel--very few, however, with the latter--only those who
wanted to _keep in_ favour: officers in quarters as these were, had not
much to do; therefore they had the more time for disputes, which became of
more and more consequence every hour. Major Gascoigne behaved incomparably
well, never failing in respect towards his superior officer when he was
present, and when he was absent doing all that was possible to restrain the
imprudent zeal and indignation of his young friends.

One day, when Godfrey, Captain Henry, and Major Gascoigne were together,
the major actually knelt down to Henry, to prevail upon him to give up a
mad design of challenging his colonel.

That very day, not an hour afterwards, the lieutenant-colonel took occasion
to thwart the major about some circumstance of no consequence. Godfrey's
blood boiled in his veins--his promise to his mother, that he would be
as gentle as a lamb, he recollected at this instant--with difficulty he
restrained himself--still his blood boiled. Major Gascoigne's fear that
Godfrey and Henry should embroil themselves for his sake increased, for he
saw what passed in their hearts, and he had no peace of mind by day, or
rest by night.

Generous people are, of all others, the most touched by generosity, either
of feeling or action. In this state of irritation, it was not possible
that things should long go on without coming to a crisis. Major Gascoigne
proposed, as the measure that would be most likely to restore and preserve
peace, to quit the regiment.--It was a great sacrifice on his part, and, at
first, none of his friends would consent to his making it; but, at last, he
brought them all to acknowledge that it was, upon the whole, the best thing
that could be done. Gascoigne had a friend, a major in another regiment
then in England, who was willing to make an exchange with him, and he
thought that the business could be arranged without much difficulty.
However, from caprice, the love of showing his power, or from some unknown
reason, the lieutenant-colonel made it his pleasure to oppose the exchange,
and said that it could not be done; though, as Captain Henry said, every
body knew, that by his writing a line to Lord Skreene it would have
been accomplished directly. It now recurred to Godfrey, that Cunningham
Falconer, being secretary to Lord Oldborough, might be of use in this
affair. Cunningham had always professed the greatest regard for Godfrey,
and he was determined, at least, to make this trial of his sincerity.

The secretary sent a civil answer in an official style, explaining _that
his office was not the War Office_; concluding by an assurance, that if
Captain Percy could point out how he could do so with propriety, nothing
could give Mr. C. Falconer greater pleasure than to have an opportunity of
obliging him.

Now Captain Percy, having a sort of generous good faith about him, believed
this last assurance; fancied that as he was no great writer he had not
explained himself well by letter, and that he should make Cunningham
understand him better _viva voce_. Keeping his own counsel, and telling
only Major Gascoigne and Captain Henry his object, he asked for a
fortnight's leave of absence, and, with some difficulty obtained it. He
went to London, waited on Secretary Falconer, and found him ten times
more _official_ in his style of conversation than in his letters. Godfrey
recollected that his cousin Cunningham had always been solemnly inclined,
but now he found him grown so mysterious, that he could scarcely obtain
a plain answer to the simplest question. "The whole man, head and heart,
seemed," as Godfrey said, "to be diplomatically closed." It was clear,
from the little that Cunningham did articulate, that he would do nothing
in furthering the exchange desired for Major Gascoigne; but whether this
arose from his having no influence with Lord Oldborough, or from his
fear of wearing it out, our young officer could not determine. He left
the secretary in disgust and despair, and went to wait on Commissioner
Falconer, who gave him a polite invitation to dinner, and overwhelmed him
with professions of friendship; but, as soon as Godfrey explained his
business, the commissioner protested that he could not venture to speak
to Lord Oldborough on such an affair, and he earnestly advised him not to
interest himself so much for Major Gascoigne, who, though doubtless a very
deserving officer, was, in fact, nothing more. He next had recourse to
Buckhurst Falconer, and asked him to persuade Colonel Hauton to speak to
his uncle upon the subject. This Buckhurst immediately promised to do, and
kept his promise. But Colonel Hauton swore that his uncle never, on any
occasion, listened to his representations; therefore it was quite useless
to speak to him. After wandering from office to office, wasting hour after
hour, and day after day, waiting for people who did him no good when he
did see them, Godfrey at last determined to do what he should have done
at first--apply to Lord Oldborough. It is always better to deal with
principals than with secondaries. Lord Oldborough had the reputation
of being inaccessible, haughty, and peremptory in the extreme; the
secretaries, clerks, and under-clerks, "trembled at his name, each under
each, through all their ranks of venality." But to Captain Percy's
surprise, the moment his name was announced, the minister immediately
recognized him, and received him most graciously. His lordship inquired
after his old friend, Mr. Percy--said that Mr. Percy was one of the few
really independent men he had ever known. "Mr. Percy is an excellent
country gentleman, and, for England's sake, I wish there were many, many
more such. Now, sir, how can I serve his son?"

With frankness and brevity which suited the minister and the man, Godfrey
told his business, and Lord Oldborough, with laconic decision, equally
pleasing to the young soldier, replied, "that if it was possible, the
thing should be done for Major Gascoigne"--inquired how long Captain Percy
purposed to stay in town--desired to see him the day before he should leave
London, and named the hour.

All the diplomacy of Cunningham Falconer's face could not disguise
his astonishment when he saw the manner in which his master treated
Godfrey.--The next day the commissioner invited Captain Percy in a pressing
manner to dine with him: "We shall have a very pleasant party," said Mr.
Falconer, "and Mrs. Falconer insists upon the pleasure of your company--you
have never seen my girls since they were children--your own near
relations!--you must be better acquainted: come--I will take no denial."

Godfrey willingly accepted the invitation: he would, _perhaps_, have found
means to have excused himself, had he known whom he was to meet at this
dinner--Miss Hauton--the dangerous fair one, whom he had resolved to avoid.
But he was in the room with her, and beyond all power of receding, before
he knew his peril. The young lady looked more beautiful than ever, and more
melancholy. One of the Miss Falconers took an opportunity of telling him,
in confidence, the cause of her poor friend's dejection. "Her uncle, Lord
Oldborough, wants to marry her to the Marquis of Twickenham, the eldest son
of the Duke of Greenwich, and Miss Hauton can't endure him."

The marquis was also at this dinner--Godfrey did not much wonder at
the lady's dislike; for he was a mean, peevish-looking man, had no
conversation, and appeared to be fond of drinking.

"But Lord Oldborough, who is all for ambition," whispered Miss Falconer,
"and who maintains that there is no such thing as love, except in novels,
says, that his niece may read foolish novels after marriage as well as
before, if she pleases, but that she must marry like a reasonable woman."

Godfrey pitied her; and, whilst he was pitying, Mrs. Falconer arranged
a party for the opera for this night, in which Godfrey found himself
included. Perhaps he was imprudent; but he was a young man, and human
nature is--human nature.

At the opera Godfrey felt his danger increase every moment. Miss Hauton
was particularly engaging, and many circumstances conspired to flatter his
vanity, and to interest him for this fair victim of ambition. Her marquis
was in the box, smelling of claret, and paying his _devoirs_ to his
intended bride, apparently very little to her satisfaction. Commissioner
Falconer, leaning forward, complimented Miss Hauton upon her appearance
this night, and observed that though it was a new opera, all fashionable
eyes were turned from the stage to Lady Oldborough's box.

Miss Hauton smiled civilly upon the commissioner, then turning to Godfrey,
in a low soft voice, repeated,

"And ev'n when fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy?"

Godfrey was touched--she saw it, and sighed. A short time afterwards her
marquis left the box. Miss Hauton recovered from her languor, and became
animated in conversation with Godfrey. He felt the whole power of her
charms, the immediate force of the temptation; but he recollected who she
was--he recollected that she had not shown any instances of discretion
which could redeem her from the consequences of a mother's disgrace:
the songs he had heard from Miss Hauton's lips, Captain Bellamy and the
_waltzing_, came full upon his mind.