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Tales and Novels, Vol. VII

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



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TALES AND NOVELS

BY MARIA EDGEWORTH.

IN TEN VOLUMES. WITH ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL.

VOL. VII.

PATRONAGE.




PATRONAGE.

"Above a patron--though I condescend
Sometimes to call a minister my friend."




TO THE READER.


My daughter again applies to me for my paternal _imprimatur_; and I hope
that I am not swayed by partiality, when I give the sanction which she
requires.

To excite the rising generation to depend upon their own exertions for
success in life is surely a laudable endeavour; but, while the young mind
is cautioned against dependence on the patronage of the great, and of
office, it is encouraged to rely upon such friends as may be acquired by
personal merit, good manners, and good conduct.

RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH.

_Edgeworthstown,
Oct. 6, 1813._



PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

The public has called for a third _impression_ of this book; it was,
therefore, the duty of the author to take advantage of the corrections
which have been communicated to her by private friends and public censors.
Whatever she has thought liable to just censure has in the present edition
been amended, as far as is consistent with the identity of the story. It is
remarkable that several incidents which have been objected to as impossible
or improbable were true. For instance, the medical case, in Chapter XIX.

A bishop was really saved from suffocation by a clergyman in his diocese
(no matter where or when), in the manner represented in Chapter X. The
bishop died long ago; and he never was an epicure. A considerable estate
was about seventy years ago regained, as described in Chapter XLII., by the
discovery of a sixpence under the seal of a deed, which had been coined
later than the date of the deed. Whether it be advantageous or prudent
to introduce such singular facts in a fictitious history is a separate
consideration, which might lead to a discussion too long for the present
occasion.

On some other points of more importance to the writer, it is necessary here
to add a few words. It has been supposed that some parts of PATRONAGE were
not written by Miss Edgeworth. This is not fact: the whole of these volumes
were written by her, the opinions they contain are her own, and she is
answerable for all the faults which may be found in them. Of ignorance
of law, and medicine, and of diplomacy, she pleads guilty; and of making
any vain or absurd pretensions to legal or medical learning, she hopes,
by candid judges, to be acquitted. If in the letters and history of her
lawyer and physician she has sometimes introduced technical phrases, it
was done merely to give, as far as she could, the colour of reality to
her fictitious personages. To fulfil the main purpose of her story it
was essential only to show how some lawyers and physicians may be pushed
forward for a time, without much knowledge either of law or medicine; or
how, on the contrary, others may, independently of patronage, advance
themselves permanently by their own merit. If this principal object of the
fiction be accomplished, the author's ignorance on professional subjects is
of little consequence to the moral or interest of the tale.

As to the charge of having drawn satirical portraits, she has already
disclaimed all personality, and all intention of satirizing any profession;
and she is grieved to find it necessary to repel such a charge. The author
of a slight work of fiction may, however, be consoled for any unjust
imputation of personal satire, by reflecting, that even the grave and
impartial historian cannot always escape similar suspicion. Tacitus says
that "there must always be men, who, from congenial manners, and sympathy
in vice, will think the fidelity of history a satire on themselves; and
even the praise due to virtue is sure to give umbrage."

_August 1, 1815._




PATRONAGE.




CHAPTER I.


"How the wind is rising!" said Rosamond.--"God help the poor people at sea
to-night!"

Her brother Godfrey smiled.--"One would think," said he, "that she had an
argosy of lovers at sea, uninsured."

"You gentlemen," replied Rosamond, "imagine that ladies are always thinking
of lovers."

"Not _always_," said Godfrey; "only when they show themselves particularly
disposed to humanity."

"My humanity, on the present occasion, cannot even be suspected," said
Rosamond; "for you know, alas! that I have no lover at sea or land."

"But a shipwreck might bless the lucky shore with some rich waif," said
Godfrey.

"Waifs and strays belong to the lady of the manor," said Rosamond; "and I
have no claim to them."

"My mother would, I dare say, make over her right to you," said Godfrey.

"But that would do me no good," said Rosamond; "for here is Caroline, with
superior claims of every sort, and with that most undisputed of all the
rights of woman--beauty."

"True: but Caroline would never accept of stray hearts," said Godfrey. "See
how her lip curls with pride at the bare imagination!"

"Pride never curled Caroline's lip," cried Rosamond: "besides, pride is
very becoming to a woman. No woman can be good for much without it, can
she, mother?"

"Before you fly off, Rosamond, to my mother as to an ally, whom you are
sure I cannot resist," said Godfrey, "settle first whether you mean to
defend Caroline upon the ground of her having or not having pride."

A fresh gust of wind rose at this moment, and Rosamond listened to it
anxiously.

"Seriously, Godfrey," said she, "do you remember the ship-wrecks last
winter?"

As she spoke, Rosamond went to one of the windows, and opened the shutter.
Her sister Caroline followed, and they looked out in silence.

"I see a light to the left of the beacon," said Caroline.--"I never saw a
light there before--What can it mean?"

"Only some fishermen," said Godfrey.

"But, brother, it is quite a storm," persisted Rosamond.

"Only equinoctial gales, my dear."

"Only equinoctial gales! But to drowning people it would be no comfort that
they were shipwrecked only by equinoctial gales. There! there! what do you
think of that blast?" cried Rosamond; "is not there some danger now?"

"Godfrey will not allow it," said Mrs. Percy: "he is a soldier, and it is
his trade not to know fear."

"Show him a _certain_ danger," cried Mr. Percy, looking up from a letter
he was writing,--"show him a _certain_ danger, and he will feel fear as
much as the greatest coward of you all. Ha! upon my word, it is an _ugly_
night," continued he, going to the window.

"Oh, my dear father!" cried Rosamond, "did you see that light--out at
sea?--There! there!--to the left."

"To the east--I see it."

"Hark! did you hear?"

"Minute guns!" said Caroline.

There was a dead silence instantly.--Every body listened.--Guns were heard
again.--The signal of some vessel in distress. The sound seemed near the
shore.--Mr. Percy and Godfrey hastened immediately to the coast.--Their
servants and some people from the neighbouring village, whom they summoned,
quickly followed. They found that a vessel had struck upon a rock, and from
the redoubled signals it appeared that the danger must be imminent.

The boatmen, who were just wakened, were surly, and swore that they would
not stir; that whoever she was, she might weather out the night, for that,
till daybreak, they couldn't get alongside of her. Godfrey instantly jumped
into a boat, declaring he would go out directly at all hazards.--Mr. Percy
with as much intrepidity, but, as became his age, with more prudence,
provided whatever assistance was necessary from the villagers, who declared
they would go any where with him; the boatmen, then ashamed, or afraid of
losing the offered reward, pushed aside the _land lubbers_, and were ready
to put out to sea.

Out they rowed--and they were soon so near the vessel, that they could hear
the cries and voices of the crew. The boats hailed her, and she answered
that she was Dutch, homeward bound--had mistaken the lights upon the
coast--had struck on a rock--was filling with water--and must go down in
half an hour.

The moment the boats came alongside of her, the crew crowded into them so
fast, and with such disorder and precipitation, that they were in great
danger of being overset, which, Mr. Percy seeing, called out in a loud and
commanding voice to stop several who were in the act of coming down the
ship's side, and promised to return for them if they would wait. But just
as he gave the order for his boatmen to _push off_, a French voice called
out "Monsieur!--Monsieur l'Anglois!--one moment."

Mr. Percy looked back and saw, as the moon shone full upon the wreck, a
figure standing at the poop, leaning over with out-stretched arms.

"I am Monsieur de Tourville, monsieur--a chargé d'affaires--with papers of
the greatest importance--despatches."

"I will return for you, sir--it is impossible for me to take you now--our
boat is loaded as much as it can bear," cried Mr. Percy; and he repeated
his order to the boatmen to _push off_.

Whilst Godfrey and Mr. Percy were trimming the boat, M. de Tourville made
an effort to jump into it.

"Oh! don't do it, sir!" cried a woman with a child in her arms; "the
gentleman will come back for us: for God's sake, don't jump into it!"

"Don't attempt it, sir," cried Mr. Percy, looking up, "or you'll sink us
all."

M. de Tourville threw down the poor woman who tried to stop him, and he
leaped from the side of the ship. At the same moment Mr. Percy, seizing
an oar, pushed the boat off, and saved it from being overset, as it must
have been if M. de Tourville had scrambled into it. He fell into the
water. Mr. Percy, without waiting to see the event, went off as fast as
possible, justly considering that the lives of the number he had under his
protection, including his son's and his own, were not to be sacrificed for
one man, whatever his name or office might be, especially when that man had
persisted against all warning in his rash selfishness.

At imminent danger to themselves, Mr. Percy and Godfrey, after landing
those in the boat, returned once more to the wreck; and though they both
declared that their consciences would be at ease even if they found that M.
de Tourville was drowned, yet it was evident that they rejoiced to see him
safe on board. This time the boat held him, and all the rest of his fellow
sufferers; and Mr. Percy and his son had the satisfaction of bringing every
soul safely to shore.--M. de Tourville, as soon as he found himself on
terra firma, joined with all around him in warm thanks to Mr. Percy and
his son, by whom their lives had been saved.--Godfrey undertook to find
lodgings for some of the passengers and for the ship's crew in the village,
and Mr. Percy invited the captain, M. de Tourville, and the rest of
the passengers, to Percy-hall, where Mrs. Percy and her daughters had
prepared every thing for their hospitable reception. When they had warmed,
dried, and refreshed themselves, they were left to enjoy what they wanted
most--repose. The Percy family, nearly as much fatigued as their guests,
were also glad to rest--all but Rosamond, who was wide awake, and so much
excited by what had happened, that she continued talking to her sister,
who slept in the same room with her, of every circumstance, and filling
her imagination with all that might come to pass from the adventures of
the night, whilst Caroline, too sleepy to be able to answer judiciously,
or even plausibly, said, "Yes," "No," and "Very true," in the wrong place;
and at length, incapable of uttering even a monosyllable, was reduced to
inarticulate sounds in sign of attention. These grew fainter and fainter,
and after long intervals absolutely failing, Rosamond with some surprise
and indignation, exclaimed, "I do believe, Caroline, you are asleep!" And,
in despair, Rosamond, for want of an auditor, was compelled to compose
herself to rest.

In the course of a few hours the storm abated, and in the morning, when the
family and their shipwrecked guests assembled at breakfast, all was calm
and serene. Much to Rosamond's dissatisfaction, M. de Tourville did not
make his appearance. Of the other strangers she had seen only a glimpse the
preceding night, and had not settled her curiosity concerning what sort of
beings they were. On a clear view by daylight of the personages who now sat
at the breakfast-table, there did not appear much to interest her romantic
imagination, or to excite her benevolent sympathy. They had the appearance
of careful money-making men, thick, square-built Dutch merchants, who said
little and eat much--butter especially. With one accord, as soon as they
had breakfasted, they rose, and begged permission to go down to the wreck
to look after their property. Mr. Percy and Godfrey offered immediately to
accompany them to the coast.

Mr. Percy had taken the precaution to set guards to watch all night, from
the time he left the vessel, that no depredations might be committed.
They found that some of the cargo had been damaged by the sea-water, but
excepting this loss there was no other of any consequence; the best part of
the goods was perfectly safe. As it was found that it would take some time
to repair the wreck, the Prussian and Hamburgh passengers determined to
go on board a vessel which was to sail from a neighbouring port with the
first fair wind. They came, previously to their departure, to thank the
Percy family, and to assure them that their hospitality would never he
forgotten.--Mr. Percy pressed them to stay at Percy-hall till the vessel
should sail, and till the captain should send notice of the first change
of wind.--This offer, however, was declined, and the Dutch merchants,
with due acknowledgments, said, by their speaking partner, that "they
considered it safest and best to go with the goods, and so wished Mr. Percy
a good morning, and that he might prosper in all his dealings; and, sir,"
concluded he, "in any of the changes of fortune, which happen to men by
land as well as by sea, please to remember the names of Grinderweld,
Groensvelt, and Slidderchild of Amsterdam, or our correspondents, Panton
and Co., London."

So having said, they walked away, keeping an eye upon the goods.

When Mr. Percy returned home it was near dinner-time, yet M. de Tourville
had not made his appearance. He was all this while indulging in a
comfortable sleep. He had no goods on board the wreck except his clothes,
and as these were in certain trunks and portmanteaus in which Comtois, his
valet, had a joint concern, M. de Tourville securely trusted that they
would be obtained without his taking any trouble.

Comtois and the trunks again appeared, and a few minutes before dinner M.
de Tourville made his entrance into the drawing-room, no longer in the
plight of a shipwrecked mariner, but in gallant trim, wafting gales of
momentary bliss as he went round the room paying his compliments to the
ladies, bowing, smiling, apologizing,--the very pink of courtesy!--The
gentlemen of the family, who had seen him the preceding night in his
frightened, angry, drenched, and miserable state, could scarcely believe
him to be the same person.

A Frenchman, it will be allowed, can contrive to say more, and to tell
more of his private history in a given time, than could be accomplished by
a person of any other nation. In the few minutes before dinner he found
means to inform the company, that he was private secretary and favourite
of the minister of a certain German court. To account for his having taken
his passage in a Dutch merchant vessel, and for his appearing without
a suitable suite, he whispered that he had been instructed to preserve
a strict incognito, from which, indeed, nothing but the horrors of the
preceding night could have drawn him.

Dinner was served, and at dinner M. de Tourville was seen, according to
the polished forms of society, humbling himself in all the hypocrisy of
politeness; with ascetic good-breeding, preferring every creature's ease
and convenience to his own, practising a continual system of self-denial,
such as almost implied a total annihilation of self-interest and self-love.
All this was strikingly contrasted with the selfishness which he had
recently betrayed, when he was in personal danger. Yet the influence of
polite manners prevailed so far as to make his former conduct be forgotten
by most of the family.

After dinner, when the ladies retired, in the female privy council held
to discuss the merits of the absent gentlemen, Rosamond spoke first, and
during the course of five minutes pronounced as many contradictory opinions
of M. de Tourville, as could well be enunciated in the same space of
time.--At last she paused, and her mother smiled.

"I understand your smile, mother," said Rosamond; "but the reason I appear
a _little_ to contradict myself sometimes in my judgment of character is,
because I speak my thoughts just as they rise in my mind, while persons
who have a character for judgment to support always keep the changes of
their opinion snug to themselves, never showing the items of the account
on either side, and let you see nothing but their balance.--This is very
grand, and, if their balance be right, very glorious.--But ignominious
as my mode of proceeding may seem, exposing me to the rebukes, derision,
uplifted hands and eyes of my auditors, yet exactly because I am checked at
every little mistake I make in my accounts, the chance is in my favour that
my totals should at last be right, and my balance perfectly accurate."

"Very true, my dear: as long as you choose for your auditors only your
friends, you are wise; but you sometimes lay your accounts open to
strangers; and as they see only your errors, without ever coming to your
conclusion, they form no favourable opinion of your accuracy."

"I don't mind what strangers think of me--much," said Rosamond.--"At least
you will allow, mamma, that I have reason to be satisfied, if only those
who do not know me should form an unfavourable opinion of my judgment--and,
after all, ma'am, of the two classes of people, those who 'never said a
foolish thing, and never did a wise one,' and those who never did a foolish
thing, and never said a wise one, would not you rather that I should belong
to the latter class?"

"Certainly, if I were reduced to the cruel alternative: but is there an
unavoidable necessity for your belonging to either class?"

"I will consider of it, ma'am," said Rosamond: "in the meantime, Caroline,
you will allow that M. de Tourville is very agreeable?"

"Agreeable!" repeated Caroline; "such a selfish being? Have you forgotten
his attempting to jump into the boat, at the hazard of oversetting it,
and of drowning my father and Godfrey, who went out to save him--and when
my father warned him--and promised to return for him--selfish, cowardly
creature!"

"Oh! poor man, he was so frightened, that he did not know what he was
doing--he was not himself."

"You mean he was himself," said Caroline.

"You are very ungrateful, Caroline," cried Rosamond; "for I am sure M.
de Tourville admires you extremely--yes, in spite of that provoking,
incredulous smile, I say he does admire you exceedingly."

"And if he did," replied Caroline, "that would make no difference in my
opinion of him."

"I doubt _that_," said Rosamond: "I know a person's admiring me would make
a great difference in my opinion of his taste and judgment--and how much
more if he had sense enough to admire you!"

Rosamond paused, and stood for some minutes silent in reverie.

"It will never do, my dear," said Mrs. Percy, looking up at her; "trust me
it will never do; turn him which way you will in your imagination, you will
never make a hero of him--nor yet a brother-in-law."

"My dear mother, how could you guess what I was thinking of?" said
Rosamond, colouring a little, and laughing; "but I assure you--now let me
explain to you, ma'am, in one word, what I think of M. de Tourville."

"Hush! my dear, he is here."

The gentlemen came into the room to tea.--M. de Tourville walked to the
table at which Mrs. Percy was sitting; and, after various compliments on
the beauty of the views from the windows, on the richness of the foliage
in the park, and the superiority of English verdure, he next turned to
look at the pictures in the saloon, distinguished a portrait by Sir Joshua
Reynolds, then passing to a table on which lay several books--"Is it
permitted?" said he, taking up one of them--the Life of Lord Nelson.

M. de Tourville did not miss the opportunity of paying a just and what to
English ears he knew must be a delightful, tribute of praise to our naval
hero. Then opening several other books, he made a rash attempt to pronounce
in English their titles, and with the happy facility of a Frenchman,
he touched upon various subjects, dwelt upon none, but found means on
all to say something to raise himself and his country in the opinion of
the company, and at the same time to make all his auditors pleased with
themselves. Presently, taking a seat between Rosamond and Caroline, he
applied himself to draw out their talents for conversation. Nor did he
labour in vain. They did not shut themselves up in stupid and provoking
silence, nor did they make any ostentatious display of their knowledge
or abilities.--M. de Tourville, as Rosamond had justly observed, seemed
to be particularly struck with Miss Caroline Percy.--She was beautiful,
and of an uncommon style of beauty. Ingenuous, unaffected, and with
all the simplicity of youth, there was a certain dignity and graceful
self-possession in her manner, which gave the idea of a superior character.
She had, perhaps, less of what the French call _esprit_ than M. de
Tourville had been accustomed to meet with in young persons on the
continent, but he was the more surprised by the strength and justness of
thought which appeared in her plain replies to the _finesse_ of some of his
questions.

The morning of the second day that he was at Percy-hall, M. de Tourville
was admiring the Miss Percys' drawings, especially some miniatures of
Caroline's, and he produced his snuff-box, to show Mr. Percy a beautiful
miniature on its lid.

It was exquisitely painted. M. de Tourville offered it to Caroline to copy,
and Mrs. Percy urged her to make the attempt.

"It is the celebrated Euphrosyne," said he, "who from the stage was very
near mounting a throne."

M. de Tourville left the miniature in the hands of the ladies to be
admired, and, addressing himself to Mr. Percy, began to tell with much
mystery the story of Euphrosyne. She was an actress of whom the prince,
heir apparent at the _German court_ where he resided, had become violently
enamoured. One of the prince's young confidants had assisted his royal
highness in carrying on a secret correspondence with Euphrosyne, which
she managed so artfully that the prince was on the point of giving her
a written promise of marriage, when the intrigue was discovered, and
prevented from proceeding farther, by a certain Count Albert Altenberg,
a young nobleman who had till that moment been one of the prince's
favourites, but who by thus opposing his passion lost entirely his prince's
favour. The story was a common story of an intrigue, such as happens every
day in every country where there is a young prince; but there was something
uncommon in the conduct of Count Altenberg. Mr. Percy expressed his
admiration of it; but M. de Tourville, though he acknowledged, as in
morality bound, that the count's conduct had been admirable, just what it
ought to be upon this occasion, yet spoke of him altogether as _une tête
exaltée_, a young man of a romantic Quixotic enthusiasm, to which he had
sacrificed the interests of his family, and his own hopes of advancement
at court. In support of this opinion, M. de Tourville related several
anecdotes, and on each of these anecdotes Mr. Percy and M. de Tourville
differed in opinion. All that was produced to prove that the young
count had no judgment or discretion appeared to Mr. Percy proofs of his
independence of character and greatness of soul. Mr. Percy repeated the
anecdotes to Mrs. Percy and his daughters; and M. de Tourville, as soon
as he saw that the ladies, and especially Caroline, differed from him,
immediately endeavoured to slide round to their opinion, and assured
Caroline, with many asseverations, and with his hand upon his heart, that
he had merely been speaking of the light in which these things appeared to
the generality of men of the world; that for his own particular feelings
they were all in favour of the frankness and generosity of character
evinced by these imprudences--he only lamented that certain qualities
should expose their possessor to the censure and ridicule of those who were
like half the world, incapable of being moved by any motive but interest,
and unable to reach to the idea of the moral sublime.

The more M. de Tourville said upon the subject, and the more gesture and
emphasis he used to impress the belief in his truth, the less Caroline
believed him, and the more dislike and contempt she felt for the duplicity
and pitiful meanness of a character, which was always endeavouring to
seem, instead of to be.--He understood and felt the expression of her
countenance, and mortified by that dignified silence, which said more than
words could express, he turned away, and never afterwards addressed to her
any of his _confidential_ conversation.

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