CHAPTER TEN.
She is virtuous, though bred behind the scenes: and, whatever pleasure she may feel in seeing herself applauded on the stage, she would much rather pass for a modest girl, than for a good actress. GIL BLAS.
"My father," said Eugenia, "was at the head of this company of strollingplayers; my mother was a young lady of respectable family, at aboarding-school. She took a fancy to my father in the character ofRolla; and being, of course, deservedly forsaken by her friends, becamea prima donna. I was the only fruits of this connection, and the onlysolace of my mother in her affliction, for she bitterly repented therash step she had taken.
"At five years old, my father proposed that I should take the characterof Cupid, in the opera of `Telemaque.' To this my mother stronglyobjected, declaring that I never should go upon the stage; and thiscreated a disunion which was daily embittered by my father's unkindtreatment, both of my mother and myself. I never left her side for fearof a kick, which I was sure to receive when I had not her protection.She employed all her spare time in my instruction, and, notwithstandingthe folly she had been guilty of, she was fully competent to the task.
"When I was seven years old, a relation of my mother died, andbequeathed fifteen thousand pounds, to be equally divided between herand her two sisters, securing my mother's portion in such a manner as toprevent my father having any control over it. As soon as my motherobtained this information, she quitted my father, who was too prudent tospend either his time or his money in pursuit of her. Had he been awareof her sudden change of fortune, he might have acted differently.
"We arrived in London, took possession of the property, which was all inthe funds; and then, fearing my father might gain information of herwealth, my mother set off for France, taking me with her. There Ipassed the happiest days of my life; my mother spared no pains, and wentto considerable expense in my education. The best masters were providedfor me in singing, dancing, and music; and so much did I profit by theirinstruction, that I was very soon considered a pretty specimen of mycountrywomen, and much noticed accordingly.
"From France we went to Italy, where we remained two years, and where myvocal education was completed. My poor mother lived all this time onthe principal of her fortune, concluding it would last for ever. Atlast she was taken ill of a fever, and died. This was about a year ago,when I was only sixteen. Delirious many days before her death, shecould give me no instructions as to my future conduct, or where to applyfor resources. I happened, however, to know her banker in London, andwrote to him immediately; in answer, he informed me that a balance offorty pounds was all that remained in his hands.
"I believe he cheated me, but I could not help it. My spirits were notdepressed at this news; I sold all the furniture; paid the little debtsto the tradespeople, and, with nine pounds in my pocket, took my placein the diligence, and set off for London, where I arrived withoutaccident. I read in the newspaper, at the inn, that a provincialcompany was in want of a young actress for genteel comedy. My mother'soriginal passion for the stage never left her; and, during our stay inFrance, we amused ourselves with _la petite comedie_, in which I alwaystook a part.
"Without resources, I thought a precarious mode of obtaining alivelihood was better than a vicious one, and determined to try myfortune on the stage: so I ordered a hack, and drove to the officeindicated. I felt a degree of comfort when I discovered that my fatherwas the advertising manager, although I was certain he would neverrecognise me. I was engaged by the agent, the bargain was approved of,and in a day or two after, was ordered to a country town some miles fromthe metropolis.
"I arrived; my father did not know me, nor did I wish that he should, asI did not intend to remain long in the company. In short, I aspired tothe London boards; but aware that I wanted practice, without which itwould have been useless to have offered myself, I accepted thissituation without delay, and applied with great assiduity to the studyof my profession. My father, I found, had married again; and my joiningthe company added nothing to his domestic harmony, my stepmotherbecoming immoderately jealous of me; but I took good care to keep my ownsecret, and never exposed myself for one moment to any suspicion of mycharacter, which hitherto, thank Heaven, has been pure, though I amexposed to a thousand temptations, and beset by the actors to become thewife of one, or the mistress of another.
"Among those who proposed the latter was my honoured father, to whom, onthat account, I was one day on the point of revealing the secret of mybirth, as the only means of saving myself from his importunities. Hewas at last taken ill, and died only three months ago, not before I hadcompleted my engagements, and obtained an increased salary of one guineaand a half per week. It is my intention to quit the company at theexpiration of my present term, which will take place in two months, forI am miserable here, although I am quite at a loss to know what will bemy future destination."
In return for her confidence I imparted as much of my history as Ithought it necessary for her to know. I became deeply fascinated,--Iforgot Miss Somerville, and answered my father's letter respectfully andkindly. He informed me that, he had procured my name to be entered onthe books of the guard-ship at Spithead; but that I might gain time toloiter by the side of Eugenia, I begged his permission to join my shipwithout returning home, alleging, as a reason, that delay would softendown any asperity of feeling occasioned by the late fracas. This, inhis answer, he agreed to, enclosing a handsome remittance; and the samepost brought a pressing invitation from Mr Somerville to come to--- Hall.
My little actress informed me that the company would set out in two daysfor the neighbourhood of Portsmouth; and, as I found that they would bemore than a fortnight in travelling, I determined to accept theinvitation, and quit her for the present. I had been more than a weekin her society. At parting, I professed my admiration and love.Silence, and a starting tear, were her only acknowledgement. I saw thatshe was not displeased; and I left her with joyful anticipations.
But what did I anticipate, as I rolled heedlessly along in the chaise to--- Hall? Sensual gratification at the expense of a poor defencelessorphan, whose future life would be clouded with misery. I could see mywickedness, and moralise upon it; but the devil was triumphant withinme, and I consoled myself with the vulgar adage, "Needs must when thedevil drives." Then I dismissed the subject to think of Emily, whoseresidence was now in sight.
I arrived at --- Hall, was kindly received and welcomed by both fatherand mother: but on this visit I must not dwell. When I reflect on it, Ihate myself and human nature! Could I be trusted? yet I inspiredunbounded confidence. Was I not as vicious as one of my age could be?Yet I made them believe I was almost perfection. Did I deserve to behappy? Yet I was so, and more so than I had ever been before, or havebeen since. I was like the serpent in Eden, though without his vileintentions. Beauty and virtue united to keep my passions in subjection.When they had nothing to feed on, they concealed themselves in theinmost recesses of my bosom.
Had I remained always with Emily, I should have been reclaimed; but whenI quitted her I lost all my good feelings and good resolutions; not,however, before the bright image of virtue had lighted up in my bosom aholy flame, which has never been entirely extinguished. Occasionallydimmed, it has afterwards burnt up with renewed brightness; and, as abeacon-light, has often guided me through perils, that might haveoverwhelmed me.
Compelled at last to quit this earthly paradise, I told her, at parting,that I loved her, adored her; and to prove that I was in earnest, andthat she believed me, I obtained a lock of her hair. When I left--- Hall, it was my intention to have joined my ship, as I had agreedwith my father; but the temptation to follow up my success with the fairand unfortunate Eugenia, was too strong to be resisted; at least Ithought so, and therefore hardly made an effort to conquer it. True Idid, pro forma, make appearance on board the guard-ship, had my nameentered on the books, that I might not lose my time of servitude, andthat I might also deceive my father. All this being duly accompl
ished,I obtained leave of absence from my first lieutenant, an oldacquaintance, who, in a ship crowded with supernumerary midshipmen, wasbut too happy in getting rid of me and my chest.
I hastened to the rendezvous, and found the company in full activity.Eugenia, when we parted, expressed a wish that our acquaintance mightnot be renewed. She feared for her own character as well as mine, andvery sensibly and feelingly observed that my professional prospectsmight be blasted; but, having made up my mind, I had an answer to allobjections. I presented myself to the manager, and requested to beadmitted into the company.
Having taken this step, Eugenia saw that my attachment was not to beovercome; that I was willing to make any sacrifice for her. I wasaccepted; my salary was fixed at one guinea per week, with sevenshillings extra for playing the flute. I was indebted for my readyadmission into this society to my voice: the manager wanted a firstsinger. My talent in this science was much admired. I signed myagreement the same evening for two months; and being presented in dueform to my brethren of the buskin, joined the supper-table, where therewas more of abundance than of delicacies. I sat by Eugenia, whosedecided preference for me excited the jealousy of my new associates. Imeasured them all with my eye, and calculated that, with fair play, Iwas the best man among them.
The play-bills announced the tragedy of "Romeo and Juliet." I was to bethe hero, and four days were allowed me to prepare myself. The whole ofthat time was passed in the company of Eugenia, who, while she gave meunequivocal proofs of attachment, admitted of no freedom. The day ofrehearsal arrived, I was found perfect, and loudly applauded by thecompany. Six o'clock came, the curtain rose, and sixteen tallow candlesdisplayed my person to an audience of about one hundred people.
No one who has not been in the situation can form any idea of thenervous feeling of a _debutant_ on such an occasion. The troupe, withthe exception of Eugenia, was of a description of persons whom Idespise, and the audience mostly clodhoppers, who could scarcely read orwrite; yet I was abashed, and acquitted myself badly, until the balconyscene, when I became enlivened and invigorated by the presence andsmiles of my mistress. In the art of love-making I was at home,particularly with the Juliet of that night. I entered at once into thespirit of the great dramatist, and the curtain dropped amidst thundersof applause. My name was announced for a repetition of the play, and Iwas dragged forward before the curtain, to thank the grocers,tallow-chandlers, cheesemongers, and plough-men for the great honourthey had done me. Heavens! how I felt the degradation; but it was toolate.
The natural result of this constant intercourse with Eugenia, may easilybe anticipated. I do not attempt to extenuate my fault--it wasinexcusable, and has brought its punishment; but for poor, forlornEugenia I plead; her virtue fell before my _importunity_ and my personalappearance. She fell a victim to those unhappy circumstances of which Ibasely took the advantage. Two months I had lived with her, as man andwife; I forgot my family, profession, and even Emily. I was now uponthe ship's books: and though no one knew anything of me, my father wasignorant of my absence from my ship--everything was sacrificed toEugenia. I acted with her, strolled the fields, and vowed volumes ofstuff about constancy. When we played, we filled the house; and some ofthe more respectable townspeople offered to introduce us to the Londonboards, but this we both declined. We cared for nothing but the societyof each other.
And now that time has cooled the youthful ardour that carried me away,let me do justice to this unfortunate girl. She was the most natural,unaffected and gifted person I ever met with. Boundless wit, enchantingliveliness, a strong mind, and self-devotion towards me, the first and,I firmly believe, the only object she ever loved; and her love for meceased only with her life. Her faults, though not to be defended, maybe palliated and deplored, because they were the defects of education.Her infant days were passed in scenes of domestic strife, profligacy,and penury; her maturer years, under the guidance of a weak mother, wereemployed in polishing, not strengthening, the edifice of herunderstanding, and the external ornaments only served to accelerate thefall of the fabric, and to increase the calamity.
Bred up in France, and almost in the fervour of the Revolution, she hadimbibed some of its libertine opinions; among others, that marriage wasa civil contract, and if entered into at all, might be broken at thepleasure of either party. This idea was strengthened and confirmed inher by the instances she had seen of matrimonial discord, particularlyin her own family. When two people, who fancied they loved, had boundthemselves by an indissoluble knot, they felt from that time theirksomeness of restraint, which they would never have felt if they hadpossessed the power of separation; and would have lived happily togetherif they had not been compelled to do it. "How long you, my dear Frank,"said Eugenia to me one day, "may continue to love me, I know not; butthe moment you cease to love me, it were better that we parted."
These were certainly the sentiments of an enthusiast; but Eugenia livedlong enough to acknowledge her error, and to bewail its fatal effects onher peace of mind. I was awoke from this dream of happiness by acurious incident. I thought it disastrous at the time, but am nowconvinced that it was fraught with good, since it brought me back to myprofession, recalled me to a sense of duty, and showed me the fullextent of my disgraceful situation. My father, it appears, was stillignorant of my absence from my ship, and had come down, without myknowledge, on a visit to a friend in the neighbourhood. Hearing of the"interesting young man" who had acquired so much credit in the characterof Apollo, as well as of Romeo, he was persuaded to see the performance.
I was in the act of singing "Pray Goody," when my eyes suddenly metthose of my papa, who was staring like the head of Gorgon; and thoughhis gaze did not turn me to stone, it turned me sick. I was stupified,forgot my part, ran off, and left the manager and the music to make thebest of it. My father, who could hardly believe his eyes, was convincedwhen he saw my confusion. I ran into the dressing-room, where, before Ihad time to divest myself of Apollo's crown and petticoat, I wasaccosted by my enraged parent, and it is quite impossible for me todescribe (taking my costume into consideration) how very much like afool I looked.
My father sternly demanded how long I had been thus honourably employed.This was a question which I had anticipated, and, therefore, veryreadily replied, "Only two or three days;" that I had left Portsmouthfor what we called "a lark," and I thought it very amusing.
"Very amusing, indeed, sir," said my father; "and, pray, may I ventureto inquire, without the fear of having a lie told me, how long this`lark,' as you call it, is to continue?"
"Oh, to-morrow," said I, "my leave expires, and then I must return to myship."
"Allow me the honour of keeping your company," said my father; "and Ishall beg your captain to impose some little restraint as to time anddistance on your future excursions."
Then, rising in his tone, he added, "I am ashamed of you, sir, the sonof a gentleman is not likely to reap any advantage from the society ofstrolling vagabonds and prostitutes. I had reason to think, by yourlast letters from Portsmouth, that you were very differently employed."
To this very sensible and parental reproof I answered with a demure andinnocent countenance (for I soon regained my presence of mind) that Idid not think there had been any harm in doing that which most of theofficers of the navy did at one time or another (an assertion,by-the-by, much too general); that we often got up plays on board ofship, and that I wanted to practise.
"Practise then with your equals," said my father, "not in company withrogues and street-walkers."
I felt that the latter name was meant for Eugenia, and was veryindignant; but fortunately kept all my anger within board, and, knowingI was "all in the wrong," allowed my father to fire away withoutreturning a shot. He concluded his lecture by commanding me to callupon him the next morning, at ten o'clock, and left me to change mydress, and to regain my good humour. I need not add that I did notreturn to the stage that night, but left the manager to make his peacewith the audience in a
ny way he thought proper.
When I informed Eugenia of the evening's adventure, she wasinconsolable: to comfort her, I offered to give up my family and myprofession, and live with her. At these words Eugenia suddenlyrecollected herself. "Frank," said she, "all that has happened isright. We are both wrong. I felt that I was too happy, and shut myeyes to the danger I dared not face. Your father is a man of sense; hisobject is to reclaim you from inevitable ruin. As for me, if he knew ofour connection, he could only despise me. He sees his son living withstrolling players; and it is his duty to cut the chain, no matter bywhat means. You have an honourable and distinguished career marked outfor you; I will never be an obstacle to your father's just ambition oryour prosperity. I did hope for a happier destiny; but love blinded myeyes: I am now undeceived. If your father cannot respect me, he shallat least admire the resolution of the unhappy Eugenia. I have tenderlyloved you, my dearest Frank, and never have loved any other, nor evershall; but part we must, Heaven only knows for how long a time. I amready to make every sacrifice to your fame and character--the only proofI can give of my unbounded love for you."
I embraced her as she uttered these words; and we spent a great part ofthe night in making preparations for my departure, arrangements for ourfuture correspondence, and, if possible, for our future meetings. Ileft her early on the following morning; and with a heavy, I had almostsaid, a broken heart, appeared before my father. He was, no doubt,aware of my attachment and the violence of my passions, and prudentlyendeavoured to soothe them. He received me affectionately, did notrenew the subject of the preceding night, and we became very goodfriends.
In tearing myself away from Eugenia, I found the truth of the Frenchadage, "_Ce n'est que la premiere pas qui coute_;" my heart grew lighteras I increased my distance from her. My father, to detach my mind stillmore from the unfortunate subject, spoke much of family affairs, of mybrother and sisters, and lastly named Mr Somerville and Emily: here hetouched on the right chord. The remembrance of Emily revived theexpiring embers of virtue, and the recollection of the pure and perfectmistress of --- Hall for a time dismissed the unhappy Eugenia from mymind. I told my father that I would engage never to disgrace him ormyself any more, if he would promise not to name my late folly to MrSomerville or his daughter.
"That," said my father, "I promise most readily; and with the greaterpleasure, since I see, in your request, the strongest proof of the senseof your error."
This conversation passed on our road to Portsmouth, where we had nosooner arrived than my father, who was acquainted with the port-admiral,left me at the "George," while he crossed the street to call on him.The result of this interview was, that I should be sent out immediatelyin some sea-going ship with a "tight captain."
There was one of this description just about to sail for Basque Roads;and, at the admiral's particular request, I was received on board as asupernumerary, there being no vacancies in the ship. My father, who bythis time was wide awake to all my wiles, saw me on board; and thenflattering himself that I was in safe custody, took his leave andreturned to the shore. I very soon found that I was under an embargo,and was not on any account to be allowed leave of absence. This waspretty nearly what I expected; but I had my own resources. I had nowlearned to laugh at trifles, and I cared little about this decided stepwhich his prudence induced him to take.
Frank Mildmay; Or, the Naval Officer Page 10