LETTER FROM ALFRED TO CAROLINE.
“MY DEAR CAROLINE,
“I am going to surprise you--I know it is the most imprudent thing a
story-teller can do to give notice or promise of a surprise; but you
see, I have such confidence at this moment in my fact, that I hazard
this imprudence--Whom do you think I have seen? Guess--guess all round
the breakfast-table--father, mother, Caroline, Rosamond--I defy you
all--ay, Rosamond, even you, with all your capacity for romance; the
romance of real life is beyond all other romances--its coincidences
beyond the combinations of the most inventive fancy--even of yours,
Rosamond--Granted--go on--Patience, ladies, if you please, and don’t
turn over the page, or glance to the end of my letter to satisfy your
curiosity, but read fairly on, says my father.
“You remember, I hope, the Irishman, O’Brien, to whom Erasmus was so
good, and whom Mr. Gresham, kind as he always is, took for his porter:
when Mr. Gresham set off last week for Amsterdam, he gave this fellow
leave to go home to his wife, who lives at Greenwich. This morning, the
wife came to see my honour to speak to me, and when she did see me she
could not speak, she was crying so bitterly; she was in the greatest
distress about her husband: he had, she said, in going to see her, been
seized by a press-gang, and put on board a tender now on the Thames.
Moved by the poor Irishwoman’s agony of grief, and helpless state, I
went to Greenwich, where the tender was lying, to speak to the captain,
to try to obtain O’Brien’s release. But upon my arrival there, I found
that the woman had been mistaken in every point of her story. In short,
her husband was not on board the tender, had never been pressed, and had
only stayed away from home the preceding night, in consequence of having
met with the captain’s servant, one of his countrymen, from the county
of Leitrim dear, who had taken him home to treat him, and had kept him
all night to sing ‘St. Patrick’s day in the morning,’ and to drink a
good journey, and a quick passage, across the salt water to his master,
which he could not refuse. Whilst I was looking at my watch, and
regretting my lost morning, a gentleman, whose servant had really been
pressed, came up to speak to the captain, who was standing beside me.
The gentleman had something striking and noble in his whole appearance;
but his address and accent, which were those of a foreigner, did not
suit the fancy of my English captain, who, putting on the surly air,
with which he thought it for his honour and for the honour of his
country to receive a Frenchman, as he took this gentleman to be, replied
in the least satisfactory manner possible, and in the short language of
some seamen, ‘Your footman’s an Englishman, sir; has been pressed for an
able-bodied seaman, which I trust he’ll prove; he’s aboard the tender,
and there he will remain.’ The foreigner, who, notwithstanding the
politeness of his address, seemed to have a high spirit, and to be fully
sensible of what was due from others to him as well as from him to
them, replied with temper and firmness. The captain, without giving any
reasons, or attending to what was said, reiterated, ‘I am under orders,
sir; I am acting according to my orders--I can do neither more nor less.
The law is as I tell you, sir.’
“The foreigner bowed submission to the law, but expressed his surprise
that such should be law in a land of liberty. With admiration he had
heard, that, by the English law and British constitution, the property
and personal liberty of the lowest, the meanest subject, could not be
injured or oppressed by the highest nobleman in the realm, by the most
powerful minister, even by the king himself. He had always been assured
that the king could not put his hand into the purse of the subject, or
take from him to the value of a single penny; that the sovereign could
not deprive the meanest of the people unheard, untried, uncondemned,
of a single hour of his liberty, or touch a hair of his head; he had
always, on the continent, heard it the boast of Englishmen, that when
even a slave touched English ground he became free: ‘Yet now, to my
astonishment,’ pursued the foreigner, ‘what do I see?--a freeborn
British subject returning to his native land, after an absence of some
years, unoffending against any law, innocent, unsuspected of all crime,
a faithful domestic, an excellent man, prevented from returning to his
family and his home, put on board a king’s ship, unused to hard labour,
condemned to work like a galley slave, doomed to banishment, perhaps to
death!--Good Heavens! In all this where is your English liberty? Where
is English justice, and the spirit of your English law?’
“‘And who the devil are you, sir?’ cried the captain, ‘who seem to know
so much and so little of English law?’
“‘My name, if that be of any consequence, is Count Albert Altenberg.’
“‘Well, Caroline, you are surprised.--‘No,’ says Rosamond; ‘I guessed
it was he, from the first moment I heard he was a foreigner, and had a
noble air.’’
“‘Altenberg,’ repeated the captain; ‘that’s not a French name:--Why, you
are not a Frenchman!’
“‘No, sir--a German.’
“‘Ah ha!’ cried the captain, suddenly changing his tone, ‘I thought you
were not a Frenchman, or you could not talk so well of English law, and
feel so much for English liberty; and now, since that’s the case, I’ll
own to you frankly, that in the main I’m much of your mind--and for my
own particular share, I’d as lieve the Admiralty had sent me to hell
as have ordered me to press on the Thames. But my business is to obey
orders--which I will do, by the blessing of God--so good morning to you.
As to law, and justice, and all that, talk to him,’ said the captain,
pointing with his thumb over his left shoulder to me as he walked off
hastily.
“‘Poor fellow!’ said I; ‘this is the hardest part of a British captain’s
duty, and so he feels it.’
“‘Duty!’ exclaimed the count--‘Duty! pardon me for repeating your
word--but can it be his duty? I hope I did not pass proper bounds in
speaking to him; but now he is gone, I may say to you, sir--to you,
who, if I may presume to judge from your countenance, sympathize in my
feelings--this is a fitter employment for an African slave-merchant than
for a British officer. The whole scene which I have just beheld there
on the river, on the banks, the violence, the struggles I have witnessed
there, the screams of the women and children,--it is not only horrible,
but in England incredible! Is it not like what we have heard of on
the coast of Africa with detestation--what your humanity has there
forbidden--abolished? And is it possible that the cries of those negroes
across the Atlantic can so affect your philanthropists’ imaginations,
whilst you are deaf or unmoved by these cries of your countrymen, close
to your metropolis, at your very gates? I think I hear them still,’ said
the count, with a look of horror. ‘Such a scene I never before beheld! I
have seen it--and yet I cannot believe that I have seen it in England.’
“I acknowledged that the sight was terrible; I could not be surprised
that the operation of pressing men for the sea service should strike
a foreigner as inconsistent with the notion of English justice and
liberty, and I admired the energy and strength of feeling which the
count showed; but I defended the measure as well as I could, on the plea
of necessity.
“‘Necessity!’ said the count: ‘Pardon me if I remind you that necessity
is the tyrant’s plea.’
“I mended my plea, and changed necessity into utility--general utility.
It was essential to England’s defence--to her existence--she could not
exist without her navy, and her navy could not be maintained without a
press-gang--as I was assured by those who were skilled in naval affairs.
“The count smiled at my evident consciousness of the weakness of my
concluding corollary, and observed that, by my own statement, the whole
argument depended on the assertions of those who maintained that a navy
could not exist without a press-gang. He urged this no further, and I
was glad of it; his horses and mine were at this moment brought up, and
we both rode together to town.
“I know that Rosamond, at this instant, is gasping with impatience to
hear whether in the course of this ride I spoke of M. de Tourville--and
the shipwreck. I did--but not of Euphrosyne: upon that subject I could
not well touch. He had heard of the shipwreck, and of the hospitality
with which the sufferers had been treated by an English gentleman, and
he was surprised and pleased, when I told him that I was the son of that
gentleman. Of M. de Tourville, the count, I fancy, thinks much the
same as you do. He spoke of him as an intriguing diplomatist, of quick
talents, but of a mind incapable of any thing great or generous. The
count went on from speaking of M. de Tourville to some of the celebrated
public characters abroad, and to the politics and manners of the
different courts and countries of Europe. For so young a man, he has
seen and reflected much. He is indeed a very superior person, as he
convinced me even in this short ride. You know that Dr. Johnson says,
‘that you cannot stand for five minutes with a great man under a shed,
waiting till a shower is over, without hearing him say something that
another man could not say.’ But though the count conversed with me so
well and so agreeably, I could see that his mind was, from time to time,
absent and anxious; and as we came into town, he again spoke of the
press-gang, and of his poor servant--a faithful attached servant, he
called him, and I am sure the count is a good master, and a man of
feeling. He had offered money to obtain the man’s release in vain. A
substitute it was at this time difficult to find--the count was but just
arrived in London, had not yet presented any of his numerous letters of
introduction; he mentioned the names of some of the people to whom these
were addressed, and he asked me whether application to any of them could
be of service. But none of his letters were to any of the men now in
power. Lord Oldborough was the only person I knew whose word would be
law in this case, and I offered to go with him to his lordship. This I
ventured, my dear father, because I wisely--yes, wisely, as you shall
see, calculated that the introduction of a foreigner, fresh from the
continent, and from that court where Cunningham Falconer is now resident
envoy, would be agreeable, and might be useful to the minister.
“My friend, Mr. Temple, who is as obliging and as much my friend now
he is secretary to _the_ great man as he was when he was a scrivening
nobody in his garret, obtained audience for us directly. I need not
detail--indeed I have not time--graciously received--count’s business
done by a line--Temple ordered to write to Admiralty: Lord Oldborough
seemed obliged to me for introducing the count--I saw he wished to
have some private conversation with him--rose, and took my leave. Lord
Oldborough paid me for my discretion on the spot by a kind look--a great
deal from him--and following me to the door of the antechamber, ‘Mr.
Percy, I cannot regret that you have followed your own independent
professional course--I congratulate you upon your success--I have heard
of it from many quarters, and always, believe me, with pleasure, on your
father’s account, and on your own.’
“Next day I found on my table when I came from the courts, the count’s
card--when I returned his visit, Commissioner Falconer was with him in
close converse--confirmed by this in opinion that Lord Oldborough is
sucking information--I mean, political secrets--out of the count. The
commissioner could not, in common decency, help being ‘exceedingly sorry
that he and Mrs. Falconer had seen so little of me of late,’ nor could
he well avoid asking me to a concert, to which he invited the count, for
the ensuing evening. As the count promised to go, so did I, on purpose
to meet him. Adieu, dearest Caroline.
“Most affectionately yours,
“ALFRED PERCY.”
To give an account of Mrs. Falconer’s concert in fashionable style, we
should inform the public that Dr. Mudge for ever established his fame
in “_Buds of Roses_;” and Miss La Grande was astonishing, absolutely
astonishing, in “_Frenar vorrei le lagrime_”--quite in Catalani’s
best manner; but Miss Georgiana Falconer was divine in “_O Giove
omnipotente_,” and quite surpassed herself in “_Quanto O quanto è amor
possente_,” in which Dr. Mudge was also capital: indeed it would be
doing injustice to this gentleman’s powers not to acknowledge the
universality of his genius.
Perhaps our readers may not feel quite satisfied with this general
eulogium, and may observe, that all this might have been learnt from the
newspapers of the day. Then we must tell things plainly and simply, but
this will not sound nearly so grand, and letting the public behind the
scenes will destroy all the stage effect and illusion. Alfred Percy
went to Mrs. Falconer’s unfashionably early, in hopes that, as Count
Altenberg dined there, he might have a quarter of an hour’s conversation
with him before the musical party should assemble. In this hope Alfred
was mistaken. He found in the great drawing-room only Mrs. Falconer and
two other ladies, whose names he never heard, standing round the
fire; the unknown ladies were in close and eager converse about Count
Altenberg. “He is so handsome--so polite--so charming!”--“He is very
rich--has immense possessions abroad, has not he?”--“Certainly, he has
a fine estate in Yorkshire.”--“But when did he come to
England?”--“How long does he stay?”--“15,000_l._, no, 20,000_l._ per
annum.”--“Indeed!”--“Mrs. Falconer, has not Count Altenberg 20,000_l._ a
year?”
Mrs. Falconer, seemingly uninterested, stood silent, looking through her
glass at the man who was lighting the argand lamps. “Really, my dear,”
answered she, “I can’t say--I know nothing of Count Altenberg--Take
care! that argand!--He’s quite a stranger to us--the commissioner
met him at Lord Oldborough’s, and on Lord Oldborough’s account, of
course--Vigor, we must have more light, Vigor--wishes to pay him
attention--But here’s Mr. Percy,” continued she, turning to Alfred,
“can, I dare say, tell you all about these things. I think the
commissioner mentioned that it was you, Mr. Percy, who introduced the
Count to Lord Oldborough.”
The ladies immediately fixed their surprised and inquiring eyes upon
Mr. Alfred Percy--he seemed to grow in an instant several feet in their
estimation: but he shrunk again when he acknowledged that he had merely
met Count Altenberg accidentally at Greenwich--that he knew nothing of
the count’s estate in Yorkshire, or of his foreign possessions, and was
utterly incompetent to decide whether he had 10,000_l._ or 20,000_l._
per annum.
“That’s very odd!” said one of the ladies. “But this much I know, that
he is passionately fond of music, for he told me so at dinner.”
“Then I am sure he will be charmed to-night with Miss Georgiana,” said
the confidants.
“But what signifies that,” replied the other lady, “if he has not--”
“Mr. Percy,” interrupted Mrs. Falconer, “I have never seen you since
that sad affair of Lady Harriot H---- and Lewis Clay;” and putting her
arm within Alfred’s, she walked him away, talking over the affair,
and throwing in a proper proportion of compliment. As she reached the
folding doors, at the farthest end of the room, she opened them.
“I have a notion the young people are here.” She introduced him into
the music-room. Miss Georgiana Falconer, at the piano-forte, with
performers, composers, masters, and young ladies, all with music-books
round her, sat high in consultation, which Alfred’s appearance
interrupted--a faint struggle to be civil--an insipid question or two
was addressed to him. “Fond of music, Mr. Percy? Captain Percy, I think,
likes music? You expect Captain Percy home soon?”
Scarcely listening to his answers, the young ladies soon resumed their
own conversation, forgot his existence, and went on eagerly with their
own affairs.
As they turned over their music-books, Alfred, for some minutes,
heard only the names of La Tour, Winter, Von Esch, Lanza, Portogallo,
Mortellari, Guglielmi, Sacchini, Sarti, Paisiello, pronounced by male
and female voices in various tones of ecstasy and of execration. Then
there was an eager search for certain favourite duets, trios, and
sets of _cavatinas_. Next he heard, in rapid succession, the names of
Tenducci, Pachierotti, Marchesi, Viganoni, Braham, Gabrielli, Mara,
Banti, Grassini, Billington, Catalani. Imagine our young barrister’s
sense of his profound ignorance, whilst he heard the merits of all dead
and living composers, singers, and masters, decided upon by the Miss
Falconers. By degrees he began to see a little through the palpable
obscure, by which he had at first felt himself surrounded: he discerned
that he was in a committee of the particular friends of the Miss
Falconers, who were settling what they should sing and play. All, of
course, were flattering the Miss Falconers, and abusing their absent
friends, those especially who were expected to bear a part in this
concert; for instance--“Those two eternal Miss Byngs, with voices, like
cracked bells, and with their old-fashioned music, Handel, Corelli, and
Pergolese, horrid!--And odious little Miss Crotch, who has science but
no taste, execution but no expression!” Here they talked a vast deal
about expression. Alfred did not understand them, and doubted whether
they understood themselves. “Then her voice! how people can call it
fine!--powerful, if you will--but overpowering! For my part, I can’t
stand it, can you?--Every body knows an artificial shake, when good, is
far superior to a natural shake. As to the Miss Barhams, the eldest has
no more ear than the table, and the youngest such a thread of a voice!”
“But, mamma,” interrupted Miss Georgiana Falconer, “are the Miss La
Grandes to be here to-night?”
“Certainly, my dear--you know I could not avoid asking the Miss La
Grandes.”
“Then, positively,” cried Miss Georgiana, her whole face changing, and
ill-humour swelling in every feature, “then, positively, ma’am, I can’t
and won’t sing a note!”
“Why, my dear love,” said Mrs. Falconer, “surely you don’t pretend to be
afraid of the Miss La Grandes?”
“You!” cried one of the chorus of flatterers--“You! to whom the La
Grandes are no more to be compared--”
“Not but that they certainly sing finely, I am told,” said Mrs.
Falconer; “yet I can’t say I like their style of singing--and knowledge
of music, you know, they don’t pretend to.”
“Why, that’s true,” said Miss Georgiana; “but still, somehow, I can
never bring out my voice before those girls. If I have any voice at all,
it is in the lower part, and Miss La Grande always chooses the
lower part--besides, ma’am, you know she regularly takes ‘_O Giove
omnipotente_’ from me. But I should not mind _that_ even, if she
would not attempt poor ‘_Quanto O quanto è amor possente_’--there’s no
standing that! Now, really, to hear that so spoiled by Miss La Grande--”
“Hush! my dear,” said Mrs. Falconer, just as Mrs. La Grande
appeared--“Oh! my good Mrs. La Grande, how kind is this of you to come
to me with your poor head! And Miss La Grande and Miss Eliza! We are so
much obliged to you, for you know that we could not have done without
you.”
The Miss La Grandes were soon followed by the Miss Barhams and Miss
Crotch, and they were all “_so good, and so kind, and such dear
creatures_.” But after the first forced compliments, silence and reserve
spread among the young ladies of the Miss Falconers’ party. It was
evident that the fair professors were mutually afraid and envious of
each other, and there was little prospect of harmony of temper. At
length the gentlemen arrived. Count Altenberg appeared, and came up to
pay his compliments to the Miss Falconers: as he had not been behind the
scenes, all was charming illusion to his eyes. No one could appear more
good-humoured, agreeable, and amiable than Miss Georgiana; she was in
delightful spirits, well dressed, and admirably supported by her
mother. The concert began. But who can describe the anxiety of the rival
mothers, each in agonies to have their daughters brought forward
and exhibited to the best advantage! Some grew pale, some red--all,
according to their different powers of self-command and address,
endeavoured to conceal their feelings. Mrs. Falconer now shone superior
in ease inimitable. She appeared absolutely unconcerned for her own
daughter, quite intent upon bringing into notice the talents of the Miss
Barhams, Miss Crotch, the Miss La Grandes, &c.
These young ladies in their turn knew and practised the various arts by
which at a musical party the unfortunate mistress of the house may be
tormented. Some, who were sensible that the company were anxious for
their performance, chose to be “_quite out of voice_,” till they had
been pressed and flattered into acquiescence; one sweet bashful creature
must absolutely be forced to the instrument, as a new speaker of the
House of Commons was formerly dragged to the chair. Then the instrument
was not what one young lady was _used to_; the lights were so placed
that another who was near-sighted could not see a note--another could
not endure such a glare. One could not sing unless the windows were all
open--another could not play unless they were all shut. With perfect
complaisance Mrs. Falconer ordered the windows to be opened and shut,
and again shut and opened; with admirable patience she was, or seemed to
be, the martyr to the caprices of the fair musicians. While all the time
she so manoeuvred as to divide, and govern, and finally to have every
thing arranged as she pleased. None but a perfectly cool stander-by,
and one previously acquainted with Mrs. Falconer’s character, could have
seen all that Alfred saw. Perhaps the interest he began to take about
Count Altenberg, who was the grand object of all her operations,
increased his penetration. While the count was engaged in earnest
political conversation in one of the inner rooms with the commissioner,
Mrs. Falconer besought the Miss La Grandes to favour the company. It
was impossible for them to resist her polite entreaties. Next she called
upon Miss Crotch, and the Miss Barhams; and she contrived that they
should sing and play, and play and sing, till they had exhausted the
admiration and complaisance of the auditors. Then she relieved attention
with some slight things from Miss Arabella Falconer, such as could
excite no _sensation_ or envy. Presently, after walking about the room,
carelessly joining different conversation parties, and saying something
obliging to each, she approached the count and the commissioner. Finding
that the commissioner had finished all he had to say, she began to
reproach him for keeping the count so long from the ladies, and leading
him, as she spoke, to the piano-forte, she declared that he had missed
such charming things. She _could_ not ask Miss Crotch to play any more
till she had rested--“Georgiana! for want of something better, do
try what you can give us--She will appear to great disadvantage, of
course--My dear, I think we have not had _O Giove omnipotente_.”
“I am not equal to that, ma’am,” said Georgiana, drawing back: “you
should call upon Miss La Grande.”
“True, my love; but Miss La Grande has been so very obliging, I could
not ask--Try it, my love--I am not surprised you should be diffident
after what we have heard; but the count, I am sure, will make
allowances.”
With amiable and becoming diffidence Miss Georgiana was compelled to
comply--the count was surprised and charmed by her voice: then she was
prevailed upon to try “_Quanta O quanto è amor possente_”--the count,
who was enthusiastically fond of music, seemed quite enchanted; and Mrs.
Falconer took care that he should have this impression left full and
strong upon his mind--supper was announced. The count was placed at
the table between Mrs. Falconer and Lady Trant--but just as they were
sitting down, Mrs. Falconer called to Georgiana, who was going, much
against her will, to another table, “Take my place, my dear Georgiana,
for you know I never eat supper.”
Georgiana’s countenance, which had been black as night, became all
radiant instantly. She took her mamma’s place beside the count. Mrs.
Falconer walked about all supper-time smiling, and saying obliging
things with self-satisfied grace. She had reason indeed to be satisfied
with the success of this night’s operations. Never once did she appear
to look towards the count, or her daughter; but assuredly she saw that
things were going on as she wished.
In the mean time Alfred Percy was as heartily tired by the exhibitions
of this evening as were many fashionable young men who had been loud
in their praises of the performers. Perhaps Alfred was not however a
perfectly fair judge, as he was disappointed in his own manoeuvres,
not having been able to obtain two minutes’ conversation with the count
during the whole evening. In a letter to Rosamond, the next day, he said
that Mrs. Falconer’s concert had been very dull, and he observed that
“People can see more of one another in a single day in the country than
they can in a year in town.” He was further very eloquent “on the folly
of meeting in crowds to say commonplace nothings to people you do not
care for, and to see only the outsides of those with whom you desire to
converse.”
“Just as I was writing this sentence,” continues Alfred, “Count
Altenberg called--how fortunate!--how obliging of him to come so early,
before I went to the courts. He has put me into good humour again with
the whole world--even with the Miss Falconers. He came to take leave of
me--he is going down to the country--with whom do you think?--With Lord
Oldborough, during the recess. Did I not tell you that Lord Oldborough
would like him--that is, would find that he has information, and can be
useful? I hope you will all see the count; indeed I am sure you will.
He politely spoke of paying his respects to my father, by whom the
shipwrecked foreigners had been so hospitably succoured in their
distress. I told him that our family no longer lived in the same place;
that we had been obliged to retire to a small estate, in a distant part
of the county. I did not trouble him with the history of our family
misfortunes; nor did I even mention how the shipwreck, and the
carelessness of the Dutch sailors, had occasioned the fire at Percy
Hall--though I was tempted to tell him this when I was speaking of M. de
Tourville.
“I forgot to tell my father, that the morning when I went with the count
to Lord Oldborough’s, among a heap of books of heraldry, with which his
table was covered, I spied an old book of my father’s on the _arte_ of
deciphering, which he had lent Commissioner Falconer years ago. Lord
Oldborough, whose eye is quick as a hawk’s, saw my eye turn towards
it, and he asked me if I knew any thing of that book, or of the art
of deciphering? Nothing of the art, but something of the book, which I
recollected to be my father’s. His lordship put it into my hands, and I
showed some pencil notes of my father’s writing. Lord Oldborough seemed
surprised, and said he did not know this had been among the number of
your studies. I told him that you had once been much intent upon Wilkins
and Leibnitz’s scheme of a universal language, and that I believed this
had led you to the art of deciphering. He repeated the words ‘Universal
language--Ha!--then I suppose it was from Mr. Percy that Commissioner
Falconer learnt all he knew on this subject?’
“‘I believe so, my lord.’
“‘Ha!’ He seemed lost for a moment in thought, and then added, ‘I wish I
had known this sooner--Ha!’
“What these _Haes_ meant, I was unable to decipher; but I am sure they
related to some matter very interesting to him. He explained himself no
farther, but immediately turned away from me to the count, and began
to talk of the affairs of his court, and of M. de Tourville, of whom he
seems to have some knowledge, I suppose through the means of his envoy,
Cunningham Falconer.
“I understand that a prodigious party is invited to Falconer-court. The
count asked me if I was to be one of them, and seemed to wish it--I like
him much. They are to have balls, and plays, and great doings. If I have
time, I will write _to-morrow_, and tell you who goes, and give you a
sketch of their characters. Mrs. Falconer cannot well avoid asking you
to some of her entertainments, and it will be pleasant to you to know
who’s who beforehand.”