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TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME VII (of X)
PATRONAGE
By Maria Edgeworth.
In Ten Volumes. With Engravings On Steel.
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 be 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.
From this moment Rosamond’s opinion of M. de Tourville changed. She gave
him up altogether, and denied, or at least gave him grudgingly,
that praise, which he eminently deserved for agreeable manners and
conversational talents. Not a foible of his now escaped her quick
observation and her lively perception of ridicule.
Whether from accident, or from some suspicion that he had lost ground
with the ladies, M. de Tourville the next day directed the principal
part of his conversation to the gentlemen of the family: comforting
himself with the importance of his political and official character, he
talked grandly of politics and diplomacy. Rosamond, who listened with
an air of arch attention, from time to time, with a tone of ironical
simplicity, asked explanations on certain points relative to the
diplomatic code of morality, and professed herself much edified and
enlightened by the answers she received.
She wished, as she told Caroline, that some one would write Advice
to Diplomatists, in the manner of Swift’s advice to Servants; and she
observed that M. de Tourville, chargé d’affaires, &c., might supply
anecdotes illustrative, and might embellish the work with a portrait
of a finished diplomatist. Unfortunately for the public, on the third
morning of the diplomatist’s visit, a circumstance occurred, which
prevented the farther development of his character, stopped his flow of
anecdote, and snatched him from the company of his hospitable hosts.
In looking over his papers, in order to show Mr. Percy a complimentary
letter from some crowned head, M. de Tourville discovered that an
important packet of papers belonging to his despatches was missing. He
had in the moment of danger and terror stuffed all his despatches into
his great-coat pocket; in getting out of the boat he had given his coat
to Comtois to carry, and, strange to tell, this chargé d’affaires had
taken it upon trust, from the assertion of his valet, that all his
papers were safe. He once, indeed, had looked them over, but so
carelessly that he never had missed the packet. His dismay was great
when he discovered his loss. He repeated at least a thousand times that
he was an undone man, unless the packet could be found.--Search was
made for it, in the boat, on the shore, in every probable and improbable
place--but all in vain; and in the midst of the search a messenger came
to announce that the wind was fair, that the ship would sail in one
hour, and that the captain could wait for no man. M. de Tourville was
obliged to take his departure without this precious packet.
Mrs. Percy was the only person in the family who had the humanity to
pity him. He was too little of a soldier for Godfrey’s taste, too much
of a courtier for Mr. Percy, too frivolous for Caroline, and too little
romantic for Rosamond.
“So,” said Rosamond, “here was a fine beginning of a romance with a
shipwreck, that ends only in five square merchants, who do not lose even
a guilder of their property, and a diplomatist, with whom we are sure of
nothing but that he has lost a bundle of papers for which nobody cares!”
In a few days the remembrance of the whole adventure began to fade from
her fancy. M. de Tourville, and his snuff-box, and his essences, and
his flattery, and his diplomacy, and his lost packet, and all the
circumstances of the shipwreck, would have appeared as a dream, if they
had not been maintained in the rank of realities by the daily sight of
the wreck, and by the actual presence of the Dutch sailors, who were
repairing the vessel.