“Though it is not easy to change the habits or to alter the views and objects of a man, like Mr. Gresham, past the meridian of life, yet I cannot help flattering myself that this might be effected. If he would, by one bold effort, shake off these dependents, the evening of his days might yet be serene and happy. He wants friends, not protégées. I have advised him, as soon as his strength will permit, to take a little tour, which will bring him into your part of the country. He wishes much to become acquainted with all our family, and I have given him a note of introduction. You, my dear father, can say to him more than I could with propriety.
“Mr. Gresham knows how to accept as well as to give. He allows me to have the pleasure of proving to him, that where my friends are concerned, I am above pecuniary considerations. My love to my dear mother, Rosamond, and Caroline.
“Your affectionate son,
“E. PERCY.”
Though Mr. Gresham would not hurt the feelings of his young friend and physician, by pressing upon him at the moment any remuneration, or by entering into any calculation of the loss he would sustain by his absence from London at this critical season, he took his own methods of justly recompensing Dr. Percy. Erasmus found at his door, some time after his return to town, a plain but excellent chariot and horses, with a note from Mr. Gresham, written in such terms as precluded the possibility of refusing the offer.
The celebrated London physician, who said that he was not paid for three weeks’ attendance in the country, by a draft of two thousand pounds; and who, when the pen was put into his own hands, wrote four in the place of two, would smile in scorn at the generosity of Mr. Gresham and the disinterestedness of Dr. Percy.
CHAPTER XXI.
LETTER FROM CAROLINE TO ERASMUS.
“MY DEAR ERASMUS,
“Your friend and patient, Mr. Gresham, was so eager to take your advice, and so quick in his movements, that your letter, announcing his intended visit, reached us but a few days before his arrival at the Hills. And — mark how great and little events, which seem to have no possible link of connexion, depend upon one another — Alfred or Mr. Gresham must have sat up all night, or slept on the floor, had not Alfred, that morning, received a letter from Mrs. Hungerford, summoning him to town to draw her son’s marriage settlements. It is thought that Colonel Hungerford, whose leave of absence from his regiment has, by special favour, been repeatedly protracted, will be very soon sent abroad. Lady Elizabeth Pembroke has, therefore, consented to his urgent desire for their immediate union; and Alfred will, I am sure, give them as little reason as possible to complain of the law’s delay. Lady Elizabeth, who has all that decision of mind and true courage which you know is so completely compatible with the most perfect gentleness of disposition and softness, even timidity of manners, resolves to leave all her relations and friends, and to go abroad. She says she knew what sacrifices she must make in marrying a soldier, and she is prepared to make them without hesitation or repining.
“And now to return to your friend, Mr. Gresham. The more we see of him the more we like him. Perhaps he bribed our judgment a little at first by the kind, affectionate manner in which he spoke of you; but, independently of this prepossession, we should, I hope, soon have discovered his merit. He is a good English merchant. Not a ‘M. Friport, qui sçait donner, mais qui ne sçait pas vivre,’ but a well-bred, well-informed gentleman, upright, liberal, and benevolent, without singularity or oddities of any sort. His quiet, plain manners, free from ostentation, express so well the kind feelings of his mind, that I prefer them infinitely to what are called polished manners. Last night Rosamond and I were amusing ourselves by contrasting him with our recollection of the polished M. de Tourville — but as you were not at home at the memorable time of the shipwreck, and of M. de Tourville’s visit, you cannot feel the force of our parallel between these two beings, the most dissimilar I have ever seen — an English merchant and a diplomatic Frenchman. You will ask, what put it into our heads to make the comparison? A slight circumstance which happened yesterday evening. Rosamond was showing Mr. Gresham some of my drawings, and among them the copy of that beautiful miniature in M. de Tourville’s snuff-box. My father told him the history of Euphrosyne, of her German prince, and Count Albert. Mr. Gresham’s way of listening struck us, by its contrast to the manner of M. de Tourville — and this led us on to draw a parallel between their characters. Mr. Gresham, instead of shrugging his shoulders, and smiling disdainfully, like the Frenchman, at the Quixotism of the young nobleman, who lost his favour at court by opposing the passion of his prince, was touched with Count Albert’s disinterested character; and quite forgetting, as Rosamond observed, to compliment me upon my picture of Euphrosyne, he laid down the miniature with a negligence of which M. de Tourville never would have been guilty, and went on eagerly to tell some excellent traits of the count. For instance, when he was a very young man in the Prussian or Austrian service, I forget which, in the heat of an engagement he had his sabre lifted over the head of one of the enemy’s officers, when, looking down, he saw that the officer’s right arm was broken. The count immediately stopped, took hold of the disabled officer’s bridle, and led him off to a place of safety. This and many other anecdotes Mr. Gresham heard, when he spent some time on the continent a few years ago, whilst he was transacting some commercial business. He had full opportunities of learning the opinions of different parties; and he says, that it was the prayer of all the good and wise in Germany, whenever the hereditary prince should succeed to the throne, that Count Albert Altenberg might be his minister.
“By-the-bye, Mr. Gresham, though he is rather an elderly man, and looks remarkably cool and composed, shows all the warmth of youth whenever any of his feelings are touched.
“I wish you could see how much my father is pleased with your friend. He has frequently repeated that Mr. Gresham, long as he has been trained in the habits of mercantile life, is quite free from the spirit of monopoly in small or great affairs. My father rejoices that his son has made such a friend. Rosamond charged me to leave her room to write to you at the end of my letter; but she is listening so intently to something Mr. Gresham is telling her, that I do not believe she will write one line. I hear a few words, which so much excite my curiosity, that I must go and listen too. Adieu.
“Affectionately yours,
“CAROLINE PERCY.”
Another letter from Caroline to Erasmus, dated some weeks after the preceding.
“Tuesday, 14th.
“Yes, my dear Erasmus, your friend, Mr. Gresham, is still with us; and he declares that he has not, for many years, been so happy as since he came here. He is now sufficiently intimate in this family to speak of himself, and of his own feelings and plans. You, who know what a horror he has of egotism, will consider this as a strong proof of his liking us, and of his confidence in our regard. He has related many of the instances, which, I suppose, he told you, of the ingratitude and disappointments he has met with from persons whom he attempted to serve. He has kept us all, for hours, Rosamond especially, in a state of alternate pity and indignation. For all that has happened, he blames himself more than he blames any one else; and with a mildness and candour which make us at once admire and love him, he adverts to the causes of his own disappointment.
“My father has spoken to him as freely as you could desire. He has urged, that as far as the public good is concerned, free competition is more advantageous to the arts and to artists than any private patronage can be.
“If the productions have real merit, they will make their own way; if they have not merit, they ought not to make their way. And the same argument he has applied to literary merit, and to the merit, generally speaking, of persons as well as of things. He has also plainly told Mr. Gresham that he considers the trade of a patron as one of the most thankless, as it is the least useful, of all trades.
“All this has made such an impression upon your candid friend, that he has declared it to be his determination to have no more protégées, and to let the com
petition of talents work fairly without the interference, or, as he expressed it, any of the bounties and drawbacks of patronage. ‘But then,’ he added, with a sigh, ‘I am a solitary being: am I to pass the remainder of my days without objects of interest or affection? While Constance Panton was a child, she was an object to me; but now she must live with her parents, or she will marry: at all events, she is rich — and is my wealth to be only for my selfish gratification? How happy you are, Mr. Percy, who have such an amiable wife, such a large family, and so many charming domestic objects of affection!’
“Mr. Gresham then walked away with my father to the end of the room, and continued his conversation in a low voice, to which I did not think I ought to listen, so I came up stairs to write to you. I think you told me that Mr. Gresham had suffered some disappointment early in life, which prevented his marrying; but if I am not mistaken, his mind now turns again to the hopes of domestic happiness. If I am not mistaken, Rosamond has made an impression on his heart. I have been as conveniently and meritoriously deaf, blind, and stupid, for some time past as possible; but though I shut my eyes, and stop my ears, yet my imagination will act, and I can only say to myself, as we used to do when we were children — I will not think of it till it comes, that I may have the pleasure of the surprise....
“Affectionately yours,
“CAROLINE PERCY.”
Caroline was right — Rosamond had made a great impression upon Mr. Gresham’s heart. His recollection of the difference between his age and Rosamond’s, and his consciousness of the want of the gaiety and attractions of youth, rendered him extremely diffident, and for some time suppressed his passion, at least delayed the declaration of his attachment. But Rosamond seemed evidently to like his company and conversation, and she showed that degree of esteem and interest for him which, he flattered himself, might be improved into a more tender affection. He ventured to make his proposal — he applied first to Mrs. Percy, and entreated that she would make known his sentiments to her daughter.
When Mrs. Percy spoke to Rosamond, she was surprised at the very decided refusal which Rosamond immediately gave. Both Mrs. Percy and Caroline were inclined to think that Rosamond had not only a high opinion of Mr. Gresham, but that she had felt a preference for him which she had never before shown for any other person; and they thought that, perhaps, some refinement of delicacy about accepting his large fortune, or some fear that his want of high birth, and what are called good connexions, would be objected to by her father and mother, might be the cause of this refusal. Mrs. Percy felt extremely anxious to explain her own sentiments, and fully to understand Rosamond’s feelings. In this anxiety Caroline joined most earnestly; all the kindness, sympathy, and ardent affection, which Rosamond had ever shown for her, when the interests of her heart were in question, were strong in Caroline’s recollection, and these were now fully returned. Caroline thought Mr. Gresham was too old for her sister; but she considered that this objection, and all others, should yield to Rosamond’s own opinion and taste. She agreed with her mother in imagining that Rosamond was not quite indifferent to his merit and to his attachment.
Mrs. Percy began by assuring Rosamond that she should be left entirely at liberty to decide according to her own judgment and feelings. “You have seen, my dear, how your father and I have acted towards your sister; and you may be sure that we shall show you equal justice. Though parents are accused of always rating ‘a good estate above a faithful lover,’ yet you will recollect that Mr. Barclay’s good estate did not induce us to press his suit with Caroline. Mr. Gresham has a large fortune; and, to speak in Lady Jane Granville’s style, it must be acknowledged, my dear Rosamond, that this would be a most advantageous match; but for this very reason we are particularly desirous that you should determine for yourself: at the same time, let me tell you, that I am a little surprised by the promptness of your decision. Let me be sure that this negative is serious — let me be sure that I rightly understand you, my love: now, when only your own Caroline is present, tell me what are your objections to Mr. Gresham?”
Thanks for her mother’s kindness; thanks repeated, with tears in her eyes, were, for a considerable time, all the answer that could be obtained from Rosamond. At length she said, “Without having any particular objection to a person, surely, if I cannot love him, that is sufficient reason for my not wishing to marry him.”
Rosamond spoke these words in so feeble a tone, and with so much hesitation, colouring at the same time so much, that her mother and sister were still uncertain how they were to understand her if — and Mrs. Percy replied, “Undoubtedly, my dear, if you cannot love him; but that is the question. Is it quite certain that you cannot?”
“Oh! quite certain — I believe.”
“This certainty seems to have come very suddenly,” said her mother, smiling.
“What can you mean, mother?”
“I mean that you did not show any decided dislike to him, till within these few hours, my dear.”
“Dislike! I don’t feel — I hope I don’t show any dislike — lam sure I should be very ungrateful. On the contrary, it would be impossible for any body, who is good for any thing, to dislike Mr. Gresham.”
“Then you can neither like him nor dislike him? — You are in a state of absolute indifference.”
“That is, except gratitude — gratitude for all his kindness to Erasmus, and for his partiality to me — gratitude I certainly feel.”
“And esteem?”
“Yes; to be sure, esteem.”
“And I think,” continued her mother, “that before he committed this crime of proposing for you, Rosamond, you used to show some of the indignation of a good friend against those ungrateful people who used him so ill.
“Indignation! Yes,” interrupted Rosamond, “who could avoid feeling indignation?”
“And pity? — I think I have heard you express pity for poor Mr. Gresham.”
“Well, ma’am, because he really was very much to be pitied — don’t you think so?”
“I do — and pity—” said Mrs. Percy, smiling.
“No, indeed, mother, you need not smile — nor you, Caroline; for the sort of pity which I feel is not — it was merely pity by itself, plain pity: why should people imagine and insist upon it, that more is felt than expressed?”
“My dear,” said Mrs. Percy, “I do not insist upon your feeling more than you really do; but let us see — you are in a state of absolute indifference, and yet you feel esteem, indignation, pity — how is this, Rosamond? How can this be?”
“Very easily, ma’am, because by absolute indifference, I mean — Oh! you know very well what I mean — absolute indifference as to—”
“Love, perhaps, is the word which you cannot pronounce this morning.”
“Now, mother! Now, Caroline! You fancy that I love him. But, supposing there were any if in the case on my side, tell me only why I should refuse him?”
“Nay, my dear, that is what we wait to hear from you,” said Mrs. Percy.
“Then I will tell you why,” said Rosamond: “in the first place, Mr. Gresham has a large fortune, and I have none. And I have the greatest horror of the idea of marrying for money, or of the possibility of its being suspected that I might do so.”
“I thought that was the fear!” cried Caroline: “but, my dear Rosamond, with your generous mind, you know it is quite impossible that you should marry from interested motives.”
“Absolutely impossible,” said her mother. “And when you are sure of your own mind, it would be weakness, my dear, to dread the suspicions of others, even if such were likely to be formed.”
“Oh! do not, my dearest Rosamond,” said Caroline, taking her sister’s hand, pressing it between hers, and speaking in the most urgent, almost supplicating tone, “do not, generous as you are, sacrifice your happiness to mistaken delicacy!”
“But,” said Rosamond, after a moment’s silence, “but you attribute more than I deserve to my delicacy and generosity: I ought not to let
you think me so much better than I really am. I had some other motives: you will think them very foolish — very ridiculous — perhaps wrong; but you are so kind and indulgent to me, mother, that I will tell you all my follies. I do not like to marry a man who is not a hero — you are very good not to laugh, Caroline.”
“Indeed, I am too seriously interested at present to laugh,” said Caroline.
“And you must be sensible,” continued Rosamond, “that I could not, by any effort of imagination, or by any illusion of love, convert a man of Mr. Gresham’s time of life and appearance, with his wig, and sober kind of understanding, into a hero.”
“As to the wig,” replied Mrs. Percy, “you will recollect that both Sir Charles Grandison and Lovelace wore wigs; but, my dear, granting that a man cannot, in these days, be a hero in a wig, and granting that a hero cannot or should not have a sober understanding, will you give me leave to ask, whether you have positively determined that none but heroes and heroines should live, or love, or marry, or be happy in this mortal world?”
“Heaven forbid!” said Rosamond, “particularly as I am not a heroine.”
“And as only a few hundred millions of people in the world are in the same condition,” added Mrs. Percy.
“And those perhaps, not the least happy of human beings,” said Caroline. “Be that as it may, I think it cannot be denied that Mr. Gresham has, in a high degree, one of the qualities which ought to distinguish a hero.”
“What?” said Rosamond, eagerly.
“Generosity,” replied Caroline; “and his large fortune puts it in his power to show that quality upon a scale more extended than is usually allowed even to the heroes of romance.”
“True — very true,” said Rosamond, smiling: “generosity might make a hero of him if he were not a merchant — a merchant! — a Percy ought not to marry a merchant.”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 124