The day after the trial brought several happy letters to the Percys.
Rosamond called it the day of happy letters, and by that name it was
ever after recorded in the family. The first of these letters was from
Godfrey, as follows:
“Dear father, mother, brothers, and sisters all! I hope you are not
under any anxiety about me, for here I am, safe and sound, and in
excellent quarters, at the house of Mynheers Grinderweld, Groensveld,
and Slidderschild, Amsterdam, the Dutch merchants who were shipwrecked
on our coast years ago! If it had happened yesterday, the thing could
not be fresher in their memories. My dear Rosamond, when we laughed at
their strange names, square figures, and formal advice to us, if ever
we should, by the changes and chances of human events, be reduced to
distress, we little thought that I, a prisoner, should literally come
to seek shelter at their door. And most hospitably have I been received.
National prejudices, which I early acquired, I don’t know how, against
the Dutch, made me fancy that a Dutchman could think only of himself,
and would give nothing for nothing: I can only say from experience, I
have been as hospitably treated in Amsterdam as ever I was in London.
These honest merchants have overwhelmed me with civilities and
substantial services, and still they seem to think they can never do
enough for me. I wish I may ever see them on English ground again. But
we have no Percy-hall to receive them in now; and as well as I remember
the Hills, we could not conveniently stow more than one at a time. Side
by side, as they stood after breakfast, I recollect, at Percy-hall, they
would completely fill up the parlour at the Hills.
“I may well be in high spirits to-day; for these good people have just
been telling me, that the measures they have been taking to get my
exchange effected, have so far succeeded, they have reason to believe
that in a week, or a fortnight at farthest, I shall be under weigh for
England.
“In the mean time, you will wonder perhaps how I got here; for I
perceive that I have subjected myself to Rosamond’s old reproach of
never beginning my story at the beginning. My father used to say, half
the mistakes in human affairs arise from our _taking for granted_; but I
think I may take it for granted, that either from the newspapers or from
Gascoigne, who must be in England by this time, you have learned that
the transport I was on board, with my division of the regiment, parted
convoy in the storm of the 18th, in the night, and at daybreak fell in
with two Dutchmen. Our brave boys fought as Englishmen always do; but
all that is over now, so it does not signify prosing about it. Two to
one was too much--we were captured. I had not been five minutes on
the Dutchman’s deck, when I observed one of the sailors eyeing me very
attentively. Presently he came up and asked if my name was not Percy,
and if I did not recollect to have seen him before? He put me in mind of
the shipwreck, and told me he was one of the sailors who were harboured
in one of my father’s outhouses whilst they were repairing the wreck.
I asked him what had become of the drunken carpenter, and told him the
disaster that ensued in consequence of that rascal’s carelessness. My
sailor was excessively shocked at the account of the fire at Percy-hall:
he thumped his breast till I thought he would have broken his
breast-bone; and after relieving his mind by cursing and swearing in
high Dutch, low Dutch, and English, against the drunken carpenter, he
told me there was no use in saying any more, for that he had punished
himself.--He was found dead one morning behind a barrel, from which in
the night he had been drinking spirits surreptitiously through a straw.
Pray tell this to old John, who used always to prophesy that this fellow
would come to no good: assure him, however, at the same time, that
all the Dutch sailors do not deserve his maledictions. Tell him, I can
answer for the poor fellow who recognized me, and who, during the whole
passage, never failed to show me and my fellow-prisoners every little
attention in his power. When we got to Amsterdam, it was he reminded
me of the Dutch merchants, told me their names, which, without his
assistance, I might have perished before I could ever have recollected,
and showed me the way to their house, and never rested till he saw me
well settled.
“You will expect from me some account of this place. You need not expect
any, for just as I had got to this line in my letter appeared one who
has put all the lions of Amsterdam fairly out of my head--Mr. Gresham!
He has been for some weeks in the country, and has just returned. The
Dutch merchants, not knowing of his being acquainted with my family,
never mentioned him to me, nor me to him: so our surprise at meeting was
great. What pleasure it is in a foreign country, and to a poor prisoner,
to see any one from dear England, and one who knows our own friends! I
had never seen Mr. Gresham myself, but you have all by your letters made
me well acquainted with him. I like him prodigiously, to use a lady’s
word (not yours, Rosamond). Letters from Mr. Henry were waiting for him
here; he has just opened them, and the first news he tells me is, that
Caroline is going to be married! Is it possible? Count Altenberg! The
last time I heard from you, you mentioned nothing of all this. Some of
your letters must have been lost. Pray write again immediately, and do
not take it for granted that I shall be at home before a letter reaches
me; but give me a full history of every thing up to the present moment.
Groensveld is sealing his letters for London, and must have mine now
or never. Adieu! Pray write fully: you cannot be too minute for a poor
prisoner.
“Yours affectionately,
“burning with curiosity,
“GODFREY PERCY.”
A letter from Mr. Gresham to Mr. Henry farther informed them, that
Godfrey’s exchange was actually effected, and that he had secured his
passage on board a vessel just ready to sail for England.
Next came letters from Count Altenberg. Briefly, in the laconic style of
a man pressed at once by sudden events and strong feelings, he related
that at the siege of the city of ---- by the French, early in the
morning of the day on which it was expected that the enemy would attempt
to storm the place, his prince, while inspecting the fortifications,
was killed by a cannon-ball, on the very spot where the Count had been
standing but a moment before. All public affairs were changed in his
country by the death of the prince. His successor, of a weak character,
was willing to purchase present ease, and to secure his low pleasures,
at any price--ready to give up the honour of his country, and submit to
the conqueror--that he had been secretly intriguing with the enemy,
had been suspected, and this suspicion was confirmed by his dastardly
capitulation when the means of defence were in his power and the spirit
of his people eager for resistance.
With indignation, heightened by grief, contrast, and despairing
patriotism, Count Altenberg had remonstrated in vain--had refused, as
minister, to put his signature to the capitulation--had been solicited
urgently to concede--offers of wealth and dignities pressed upon him:
these he rejected with scorn. Released from all his public engagements
by the death of the prince, and by the retiring of the princess from
court, Count Altenberg refused to act as minister under his successor;
and seeing that, under such a successor to the government, no means of
serving or saving the country remained, he at once determined to quit it
for ever: resolved to live in a free country, already his own, half by
birth and wholly by inclination, where he had property sufficient to
secure him independence, sufficient for his own wishes, and for those of
his beloved Caroline--a country where he could enjoy better than on any
other spot in the whole compass of the civilized world, the blessings of
real liberty and of domestic tranquillity and happiness.
His decision made, it was promptly executed. He left to a friend the
transacting the sale of his German property, and Caroline concluded his
letter with
“MY DEAR FRIENDS,
“Passports are obtained, every thing ready. Early next week we set out
for England; by the first of next month we shall be at HOME.”
Then came a letter from Lord Oldborough. Some time previously to
the trial, surprised at neither seeing Mr. Temple nor hearing of his
marriage, his lordship had written to inquire what delayed his promised
return. Taking it for granted that he was married, his lordship in
the most polite manner begged that he would prevail upon his bride to
enliven the retirement of an old statesman by her sprightly company. As
the friend of her father he made this request, with a confidence in her
hereditary disposition to show him kindness.
In reply to this letter, Mr. Temple told his friend and master what had
delayed his marriage, and why he had hitherto forborne to trouble him on
the subject. Lord Oldborough, astonished and indignant, uttered once and
but once contemptuous exclamations against the “inconceivable meanness
of Lord Skrimpshire,” and the “infinitely small mind of his grace
of Greenwich;” then, without condescending to any communication with
inferior powers, his lordship applied directly to the highest authority.
The consequence was that a place double the value of that which had been
promised was given to Mr. Temple, and it was to announce his appointment
to it that occasioned the present letter from Lord Oldborough, enclosing
one from Mr. Secretary Cope, who “had it in command to assure his
lordship that the delay had arisen solely from the anxious desire of
his majesty’s ministers to mark their respect for his lordship’s
recommendation, and their sense of Mr. Temple’s merit, by doing more
than had been originally proposed. An opportunity, for which they
had impatiently waited, had now put it into their power to evince the
sincerity of their intentions in a mode which they trusted would prove
to the entire satisfaction of his lordship.”
The greatest care was taken both in substance and manner to gratify
Lord Oldborough, whose loss had been felt, and whose value had, upon
comparison, increased in estimation.
Rosamond was rewarded by seeing the happiness of the man she loved, and
hearing him declare that he owed it to her prudence.
“Rosamond’s prudence!--Whoever expected to hear this?” Mr. Percy
exclaimed. “And yet the praise is just. So, henceforward, none need ever
despair of grafting prudence upon generosity of disposition and vivacity
of temper.”
Mr. Temple obtained from Rosamond a promise to be his, as soon as her
sister Caroline and her brother should arrive.
Lady Jane Granville, who felt the warmest interest in their prosperity,
was the first to whom they communicated all this joyful intelligence.
Her ladyship’s horses had indeed reason to rue this day; for they did
more work this day than London horses ever accomplished before in the
same number of hours, not excepting even those of the merciless Mrs.
John Prevost; for Lady Jane found it necessary to drive about to her
thousand acquaintance to spread the news of the triumph and felicity of
the Percy family.
In the midst of this tumult of joy, Mr. Percy wrote two letters: one was
to his faithful old steward, John Nelson, who deserved from his master
this mark of regard; the other was to Commissioner Falconer, to make him
some friendly offers of assistance in his own affairs, and to beg that,
through him, his daughter, the unhappy and deserted lady of Sir Robert
Percy, might be assured that neither Mr. Percy nor any of his family
wished to put her to inconvenience; and that far from being in haste to
return to Percy-hall, they particularly wished to wait in town for the
arrival of Caroline and Count Altenberg; and they therefore requested
that she would not hasten her removal, from any false idea of their
impatience. We said the deserted lady of Sir Robert Percy, for Sir
Robert had fled from the country. On quitting the court after the
trial, he took all the ready money he had previously collected from his
tenants, and set out for the continent, leaving a note for his wife,
apprizing her “that she would never see him more, and that she had
better return to her father and mother, as he had no means left to
support her extravagance.”
Commissioner Falconer was at this time at Falconer-court, where he had
been obliged to go to settle some business with his tenantry,
previously to the sale of his land for the redemption of Cunningham. The
Commissioner’s answer to Mr. Percy’s letter was as follows:
“I cannot tell you, my dear sir, how much I was touched by the kindness
of your letter and conduct--so different from what I have met with
from others. I will not cloud your happiness--in which, believe me, I
heartily rejoice--by the melancholy detail of all my own sorrows and
disappointments; but only answer briefly to your friendly inquiries
respecting my affairs.
“And first, for my unfortunate married daughter, who has been in
this terrible manner returned upon our hands. She thanks you for your
indulgence, on which she will not encroach. Before you receive this, she
will have left Percy-hall. She is going to live with a Miss Clapham,
a great heiress, who wants a fashionable companion and chaperon. Mrs.
Falconer became acquainted with her at Tunbridge, and has devised
this plan for Arabella. I fear Bell’s disposition will not suit such a
situation, but she has no other resource.
“Mrs. Falconer and Georgiana have so _over-managed_ matters with respect
to Petcalf, that it has ended, as I long since feared it would, in his
breaking off. If Mrs. Falconer had taken my advice, Georgiana might now
be completely settled; instead of which she is fitting out for India.
She is going, to be sure, in good company; but in my opinion the expense
(which, Heaven knows, I can ill afford) will be thrown away like all the
rest--for Georgiana has been much worn by late hours, and though still
young, has, I fear, lost her bloom, and looks rather old for India.
“I am truly obliged to you, my dear sir, for your friendly offer with
respect to Falconer-court, and have in consequence stopped the sale of
the furniture. I shall rejoice to have such a good tenant as Mr.
Temple. It is indeed much more agreeable to me to let than to sell.
The accommodation, as you propose, will put it in my power to release
Cunningham, which is my most pressing difficulty.
“As you are the only person in the world now who takes an interest in my
affairs, or to whom I can safely unburden my mind, I must, though I
know complaint to be useless, relieve my heart by it for a moment. I can
safely say, that for the last ten years of my life I have never spent
a day _for myself_. I have been continually planning and toiling to
advance my family,--not an opportunity has been neglected; and yet from
this very family springs all my unhappiness. Even Mrs. Falconer blames
me as the cause of that _sad business_, which has disgraced us for
ever, and deprived us of all our friends--and has afforded an excuse for
breaking all promises. There are many, whom I will not name, but they
are persons now high in office, who have--I may venture to say it to
you--used me shamefully ill.
“Many an honest tradesman and manufacturer, to say nothing of men of
talents in the liberal professions, I have seen in the course of the
last forty years make their own fortunes, and large fortunes, while I
have ended worse than I began--have literally been working all my life
for others, not only without reward, but without thanks. If I were to
begin life again, I certainly should follow your principles, my dear
sir, and depend more upon myself and less upon others, than I have
done--But now all is over. Let me assure you, that in the midst of my
own misfortunes, I rejoice in your prosperity, and in the esteem and
respect with which I hear you and yours spoken of by all.
“Present my affectionate regards and congratulations to Mrs. Percy, and
to all your amiable and happy circle. Propriety and feeling for my poor
daughter, Lady Percy, must prevent my paying at present my personal
congratulations to you at Percy-hall; but I trust you will not the less
believe in the sincerity of my attachment.
“I am, my dear sir,
“Your obliged and faithful
“Friend and servant,
“T. FALCONER.
“P.S.--I have just learnt that the little place I mentioned to Mr.
Alfred Percy, when we last met, is not disposed of. Lord Oldborough’s
influence, as Mr. Temple well knows, is still all-powerful; and your
interest with his lordship, you must be sensible, is greater than that
of any other person living, without exception. A word from you would do
the business for me. It is but a trifle, which I should once have been
ashamed to ask: but it is now a matter of necessity.”
The event of the trial, and the restoration of the Percy family to their
property, were heard with transports of joy by the old tenantry. They
had not needed the effect of contrast, to make them love and feel the
value of their good landlord; but certainly Sir Robert Percy’s tyranny,
and all that he had made them suffer for their obstinate fidelity to the
_old branch_, had heightened and fortified their attachment. It was
now their turn to glory in that honest obstinacy, and with the strong
English sense of justice, they triumphed in having the rightful owners
restored to their estate, and to the seat of their ancestors.
As the Percy family crossed the well-known bridge at the end of the
village, those bells, which had sounded so mournfully, which had been
muffled when they quitted their home, now rang out a merry triumphant
peal--and it was rung by the hands of the very same persons who
had formerly given that proof of attachment to him in his
adversity.--Emotion as strong now seized Mr. Percy’s heart. At the same
spot he jumped out of the carriage, and by the same path along which he
had hastened to stop the bell-ringers, lest they should ruin themselves
with Sir Robert, he now hastened to see and thank these honest,
courageous people. In passing through the village, which had been
freshly swept and garnished the people, whom, he remembered to have seen
in tears following the carriage at their departure, were now crowding to
their doors with faces bright with smiles. Hats that had never stirred,
and backs that had never bent for the _usurper_, were now eager with low
bows to mark their proud respect to the true man. There were no noisy
acclamations, for all were touched. The voices of the young children,
however, were heard, who, as their mothers held them up in their arms,
to see the landlord, of whom they had heard so much, offered their
little nosegays as the open carriage passed, and repeated blessings on
those, on whom from their cradles, they had heard blessings bestowed by
their parents.
The old steward stood ready at the park-gate to open it for his master.
His master and the ladies put their hands out of the carriage to shake
hands with him, but he could not stand it. He just touched his master’s
hand. Tears streamed down his face, and turning away without being able
to say one word, he hid himself in the porter’s lodge.
As they drove up to the house, they saw standing on the steps
waiting--and long had he been waiting there, for the first sound of the
carriage--Johnson, the butler, who had followed the family to the Hills,
and had served them in their fallen fortunes--Johnson was now himself.
Before the hall-door, wide open to receive them, he stood, with the
livery-servants in due order.
Mrs. Harte, the good old housekeeper, had been sent down to prepare for
the reception of the family, and a world of trouble she had had; but
all was now right and proper, and she was as active and alert as the
youngest of her maidens could have been, in conducting the ladies to
their apartments, in showing all the old places, and doing what she
called the honours of the _re-installation_. She could have wished
to have vented a little of her indignation, and to have told how some
things had been left; but her better taste and judgment, and her sense
of what would be pleasing to her master and mistress, repressed all
recrimination. By the help of frequent recurrence to her snuff-box, in
difficulties great, together with much rubbing of her hands, and some
bridling of her head, she got through it, without naming those, who
should not be thought of, as she observed, on this joyful day.
The happiness of the Percy family was completed by the return of
Godfrey, of Caroline, and Count Altenberg. Godfrey arrived just as his
family were settled at Percy-hall. After his long absence from his
home and country, he doubly enjoyed this scene of domestic prosperity.
Beloved as Rosamond was by rich and poor in the neighbourhood, and the
general favourite of her family, her approaching marriage spread new and
universal joy. It is impossible to give an idea of the congratulations,
and of the bustle of the various preparations, which were going on at
this time at Percy-hall, especially in the lower regions. Even Mrs.
Harte’s all-regulating genius was insufficient for the exigencies of the
times. Indeed, her head and her heart were now at perpetual variance,
continually counteracting and contradicting each other. One moment
delighted with the joy and affection of the world below, she would come
up to boast of it to her mistress and her young ladies; the next moment
she would scold all the people for being out of their wits, and for not
minding or knowing a single thing they were doing, or ordered to do,
“no more than the babes in the wood;” then proving the next minute and
acknowledging that she was “_really quite as bad as themselves_. And no
wonder, for the thoughts of Miss Rosamond’s marriage had turned her head
entirely upside down--for she had been at Miss Rosamond’s christening,
held her by proxy, and considered her always as her particular
own child, and well she might, for a better, except, perhaps, Miss
Caroline--I should say _the countess_--never breathed.”
The making a _desert_ island for Miss Rosamond’s wedding-dinner was
the object which had taken such forcible possession of Mrs. Harte’s
imagination, that till it was accomplished it was in vain to hope that
any other could, in her eyes, appear in any kind of proportion. In the
midst of all the sentimental joy above stairs, and in the midst of
all the important business of settlements and lawyers, Mrs. Harte was
pursuing the settled purpose of her soul, constructing with infinite
care, as directed by her complete English Housekeeper, a _desert island
for a wedding_, in a deep china dish, with a mount in the middle, two
figures upon the mount, with crowns on their heads, a knot of rock-candy
at their feet, and gravel-walks of _shot comfits_, judiciously
intersecting in every direction their dominions.