“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.
CHAPTER II.
A few days after the departure of M. de Tourville, Commissioner Falconer, a friend, or at least a relation of Mr. Percy’s, came to pay him a visit. As the commissioner looked out of the window and observed the Dutch carpenter, who was passing by with tools under his arm, he began to talk of the late shipwreck. Mr. Falconer said he had heard much of the successful exertions and hospitality of the Percy family on that occasion — regretted that he had himself been called to town just at that time — asked many questions about the passengers on board the vessel, and when M. de Tourville was described to him, deplored that Mr. Percy had never thought of trying to detain this foreigner a few days longer.
For, argued the commissioner, though M. de Tourville might not be an accredited chargé d’affaires, yet, since he was a person in some degree in an official capacity, and intrusted with secret negotiations, government might have wished to know something about him. “And at all events,” added the commissioner, with a shrewd smile, “it would have been a fine way of paying our court to a certain great man.”
“So, commissioner, you still put your trust in great men?” said Mr. Percy.
“Not in all great men, but in some,” replied the commissioner; “for instance, in your old friend, Lord Oldborough, who, I’m happy to inform you, is just come into our neighbourhood to Clermont-park, of which he has at last completed the purchase, and has sent down his plate and pictures. — Who knows but he may make Clermont-park his summer residence, instead of his place in Essex? and if he should, there’s no saying of what advantage it might be, for I have it from the very best authority, that his lordship’s influence in a certain quarter is greater than ever. Of course, Mr. Percy, you will wait upon Lord Oldborough, when he comes to this part of the country?”
“No, I believe not,” said Mr. Percy: “I have no connexion with him now.”
“It is five-and-twenty years since I knew him abroad,” said Mr. Percy; “and from all I have heard, he is an altered man. When I was intimate with Lord Oldborough, he was a generous, open-hearted youth: he has since become a politician, and I fear he has sold himself for a riband to the demon of ambition.”
“No matter to whom he has sold himself, or for what,” replied the commissioner; “that is his affair, not ours. We must not be too nice. He is well disposed towards you; and, my dear sir, I should take it as a very particular favour if you would introduce me to his lordship.”
“With great pleasure,” said Mr. Percy, “the very first opportunity.”
“We must make opportunities — not wait for them,” said the commissioner, smiling. “Let me entreat that you will pay your respects to his lordship as soon as he comes into the country. It really is but civil — and take me in your hand.”
“With all my heart,” said Mr. Percy; “but mine shall only be a visit of civility.”
Well satisfied with having obtained this promise, Commissioner Falconer departed.
Besides his general desire to be acquainted with the great, the commissioner had particular reasons for wishing to be introduced at this time to Lord Oldborough, and he had a peculiar cause for being curious about M. de Tourville. — Mr. Falconer was in possession of the packet which that diplomatist had lost. It had been found by one of the commissioner’s sons, Mr. John Falconer; or rather by Mr. John Falconer’s dog, Neptune, who brought it to his master when he was bathing in the sea the day after the shipwreck. It had been thrown by the tide among some sea-weed, where it was entangled, and where it lay hid till it was discovered by the dog. Mr. John Falconer had carried it home, and boasting of his dog’s sagacity, had produced it rather as a proof of the capital manner in which he had taught Neptune to fetch and carry, than from any idea or care for the value of the packet; John Falconer being one of those men who care for very little in this world,
“Whilst they have their dog and their gun.”
Not so the commissioner, who immediately began to examine the papers with serious curiosity, to discover whether they could by any means be productive of advantage to him or his family. The sea-water had injured only the outer pages; but though the inner were not in the least damaged, it was difficult to make out their contents, for they were written in cipher. Commissioner Falconer, however, was skilled in the art of deciphering, and possessed all the ingenuity and patience necessary for the business. The title, superscription, and signature of the paper were obliterated, so that he could not guess from whom they came, or to whom they were addressed; he perceived that they were political; but of what degree of importance they might be he could not decide, till he heard of M. de Tourville the diplomatist, and of his distress at the loss of this packet. The commissioner then resolved to devote the evening, ensuing day, and night, if requisite, to the business, that he might have it in readiness to carry with him when he went to pay his respects to Lord Oldborough. Foreseeing that something might be made of this intercepted despatch, and fearing that if he mentioned it to Mr. Percy, that gentleman might object to opening the papers, Mr. Falconer left Percy-hall without giving the most remote hint of the treasure which he possessed, or of the use that he intended to make of his discovery.
Early in the ensuing week Mr. Percy went to pay his visit of civility, and Mr. Falconer his visit of policy, to Lord Oldborough. His lordship was so much altered, that it was with difficulty Mr. Percy recollected in him any traces of the same person. The Lord Oldborough he had formerly known was gay, gallant, and rather dissipated; of a frank, joyous air and manner. The Lord Oldborough whom he now saw was a serious, reserved-looking personage, with a face in which the lines of thought and care were deeply marked; large eyebrows, vigilant eyes, with an expression of ability and decision in his whole countenance, but not of tranquillity or of happiness. His manner was well-bred, but rather cold and formal: his conversation circumspect, calculated to draw forth the opinions, and to benefit by the information of others, rather than to assert or display his own. He seemed to converse, to think, to live, not with any enjoyment of the present, but with a view to some future object, about which he was constantly anxious.
Mr. Percy and Mr. Falconer both observed Lord Oldborough attentively during this visit: Mr. Percy studied him with philosophical curiosity, to discover what changes had been made in his lordship’s character by the operation of ambition, and to determine how far that passion had contributed to his happiness; Mr. Falconer studied him with the interested eye of a man of the world, eager to discern what advantage could be made by ministering to that ambition, and to decide whether there was about his lordship the making of a good patron.
There was, he thought, the right twist, if he had but skill to follow, and humour it in the working; but this was a task of much nicety. Lord Oldborough appeared to be aware of the commissioner’s views, and was not disposed to burden himself with new friends. It seemed easy to go to a certain point with his lordship, but difficult to get farther; easy to obtain his attention, but impossible to gain his confidence.
The commissioner, however, had many resources ready; many small means of fastening himself both on his lordship’s private and public interests. He determined to begin first with the despatch which he had been deciphering. With this view he led Mr. Percy to speak of the shipwreck, and of M. de Tourville. Lord Oldborough’s attention was immediately awakened; and when Mr. Falconer perceived that the regret for not having seen M. de Tourville, and the curiosity to know the nature of his secret negotiations had been sufficiently excited, the commissioner quitted the subject, as he could go no farther whilst restrained by Mr. Percy’s presence. He took the first opportunity of leaving the room with his lordship’s nephew, Col. Hauton, to look at some horses, which were to run at the ensuing races.
Left alone with Mr. Percy, Lord Oldborough looked less reserved, for he plainly saw, indeed Mr. Percy plainly showed, that he had nothing to ask from the great man, but that he came only to see his friend.
“Many years since we met, Mr. Percy,” said his lordship, sitting down and placing his chair for the first time without considering whether his face or his back were to the light.—”A great many years since we met, Mr. Percy; and yet I should not think so from your appearance; you do not look as if — shall I say it? — five-and-twenty years had passed since that time. But you have been leading an easy life in the country — the happiest life: I envy you.”
Mr. Percy, thinking that these were words of course, the mere polite cant of a courtier to a country gentleman, smiled, and replied, that few who were acquainted with their different situations in the world would imagine that Mr. Percy could be an object of envy to Lord Oldborough, a statesman at the summit of favour and fortune.
“Not the summit,” said Lord Oldborough, sighing; “and if I were even at the summit, it is, you know, a dangerous situation. Fortune’s wheel never stands still — the highest point is therefore the most perilous.” His lordship sighed again as deeply as before; then spoke, or rather led to the subject of general politics, of which Mr. Percy gave his opinions with freedom and openness, yet without ever forgetting the respect due to Lord Oldborough’s situation. His lordship seemed sensible of this attention, sometimes nodded, and sometimes smiled, as Mr. Percy spoke of public men or measures; but when he expressed any sentiment of patriotism, or of public virtue, Lord Oldborough took to his snuff-box, shook and levelled the snuff; and if he listened, listened as to words superfluous and irrelevant. When Mr. Percy uttered any principle favourable to the liberty of the press, or of the people, his lordship would take several pinches of snuff rapidly, to hide the expression of his countenance; if the topics were continued, his averted eyes and compressed lips showed disapprobation, and the difficulty he felt in refraining from reply. From reply, however, he did absolutely refrain; and after a pause of a few moments, with a smi
le, in a softer and lower voice than his usual tone, he asked Mr. Percy some questions about his family, and turned the conversation again to domestic affairs; — expressed surprise, that a man of Mr. Percy’s talents should live in such absolute retirement; and seeming to forget what he had said himself but half an hour before, of the pains and dangers of ambition, and all that Mr. Percy had said of his love of domestic life, appeared to take it for granted that Mr. Percy would be glad to shine in public, if opportunity were not wanting. Upon this supposition, his lordship dexterously pointed out ways by which he might distinguish himself; threw out assurances of his own good wishes, compliments to his talents; and, in short, sounded his heart, still expecting to find corruption or ambition at the bottom. But none was to be found. Lord Oldborough was convinced of it — and surprised. Perhaps his esteem for Mr. Percy’s understanding fell some degrees — he considered him as an eccentric person, acting from unaccountable motives; but still he respected him as that rarest of all things in a politician’s eye — a really honest independent man. He believed also that Mr. Percy had some regard for him; and whatever portion it might be, it was valuable and extraordinary — for it was disinterested: besides, they could never cross in their objects — and as Mr. Percy lived out of the world, and had no connexion with any party, he was a perfectly safe man. All these thoughts acted so powerfully upon Lord Oldborough, that he threw aside his reserve, in a manner which would have astonished and delighted Mr. Falconer. Mr. Percy was astonished, but not delighted — he saw a noble mind corroded and debased by ambition — virtuous principle, generous feeling, stifled — a powerful, capacious understanding distorted — a soul, once expatiating and full of high thoughts, now confined to a span — bent down to low concerns — imprisoned in the precincts of a court.
“You pity me,” said Lord Oldborough, who seemed to understand Mr. Percy’s thoughts; “you pity me — I pity myself. But such is ambition, and I cannot live without it — once and always its slave.”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 96