Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  The chief justice honoured Alfred by a nod and a smile.

  The lady, however, protested against this doctrine, and concluded by confessing that she always did and always should prefer nature to art.

  From this commonplace confession, the chief justice, by a playful cross-examination, presently made it apparent that we do not always know what we mean by art and what by nature; that the ideas are so mixed in civilized society, and the words so inaccurately used, both in common conversation, and in the writings of philosophers, that no metaphysical prism can separate or reduce them to their primary meaning. Next he touched upon the distinction between art and artifice. The conversation branched out into remarks on grace and affectation, and thence to the different theories of beauty and taste, with all which he played with a master’s hand.

  A man accustomed to speak to numbers perceives immediately when his auditors seize his ideas, and knows instantly, by the assent and expression of the eye, to whom they are new or to whom they are familiar. The chief justice discovered that Alfred Percy had superior knowledge, literature, and talents, even before he spoke, by his manner of listening. The conversation presently passed from l’air noble to le style noble, and to the French laws of criticism, which prohibit the descending to allusions to arts and manufactures. This subject he discussed deeply, yet rapidly observed how taste is influenced by different governments and manners — remarked how the strong line of demarcation formerly kept in France between the nobility and the citizens had influenced taste in writing and in eloquence, and how our more popular government not only admitted allusions to the occupations of the lower classes, but required them. Our orators at elections, and in parliament, must speak so as to come home to the feelings and vocabulary of constituents. Examples from Burke and others, the chief justice said, might be brought in support of this opinion.

  Alfred was so fortunate as to recollect some apposite illustrations from Burke, and from several of our great orators, Wyndham, Erskine, Mackintosh, and Romilly. As Alfred spoke, the chief justice’s eye brightened with approbation, and it was observed that he afterwards addressed to him particularly his conversation; and, more flattering still, that he went deeper into the subject which he had been discussing. From one of the passages which had been mentioned, he took occasion to answer the argument of the French critics, who justify their taste by asserting that it is the taste of the ancients. Skilled in classical as in modern literature, he showed that the ancients had made allusions to arts and manufactures, as far as their knowledge went; but, as he observed, in modern times new arts and sciences afford fresh subjects of allusion unknown to the ancients; consequently we ought not to restrict our taste by exclusive reverence for classical precedents. On these points it is requisite to reform the pandects of criticism.

  Another passage from Burke, to which Alfred had alluded, the chief justice thought too rich in ornament. “Ornaments,” he said, “if not kept subordinate, however intrinsically beautiful, injure the general effect — therefore a judicious orator will sacrifice all such as draw the attention from his principal design.”

  Alfred Percy, in support of this opinion, cited the example of the Spanish painter, who obliterated certain beautiful silver vases, which he had introduced in a picture of the Lord’s Supper, because he found, that at first view, every spectator’s eye was caught by these splendid ornaments, and every one extolled their exquisite finish, instead of attending to the great subject of the piece.

  The chief justice was so well pleased with the conversation of our young barrister, that, at parting, he gave Alfred an invitation to his house. The conversation had been very different from what might have been expected: metaphysics, belles-lettres, poetry, plays, criticism — what a range of ideas, far from Coke and Selden, was gone over this evening in the course of a few hours! Alfred had reason to be more and more convinced of the truth of his father’s favourite doctrine, that the general cultivation of the understanding, and the acquirement of general knowledge, are essential to the attainment of excellence in any profession, useful to a young man particularly in introducing him to the notice of valuable friends and acquaintance.

  An author well skilled in the worst parts of human nature has asserted, that “nothing is more tiresome than praises in which we have no manner of share.” Yet we, who have a better opinion of our kind, trust that there are some who can sympathize in the enthusiasm of a good and young mind, struck with splendid talents, and with a superior character; therefore we venture to insert some of the warm eulogiums, with which we find our young lawyer’s letters filled.

  “My DEAR FATHER,

  “I have only a few moments to write, but cannot delay to answer your question about the chief justice. Disappointed — no danger of that — he far surpasses my expectations. It has been said that he never opened a book, that he never heard a common ballad, or saw a workman at his trade, without learning something, which he afterwards turned to good account. This you may see in his public speeches, but I am more completely convinced of it since I have heard him converse. His illustrations are drawn from the workshop, the manufactory, the mine, the mechanic, the poet — from every art and science, from every thing in nature, animate or inanimate.

  ‘From gems, from flames, from orient rays of light,

  The richest lustre makes his purple bright.’

  “Perhaps I am writing his panegyric because he is my lord chief justice, and because I dined with him yesterday, and am to dine with him again to-morrow.

  “Yours affectionately,

  “ALFRED PERCY.”

  In a subsequent letter he shows that his admiration increased instead of diminishing, upon a more intimate acquaintance with its object.

  “High station,” says Alfred, “appears to me much more desirable, since I have known this great man. He makes rank so gracious, and shows that it is a pleasurable, not a ‘painful pre-eminence,’ when it gives the power of raising others, and of continually doing kind and generous actions. Mr. Friend tells me, that, before the chief justice was so high as he is now, without a rival in his profession, he was ever the most generous man to his competitors. I am sure he is now the most kind and condescending to his inferiors. In company he is never intent upon himself, seems never anxious about his own dignity or his own fame. He is sufficiently sure of both to be quite at ease. He excites my ambition, and exalts its nature and value.

  “He has raised my esteem for my profession, by showing the noble use that can be made of it, in defending right and virtue. He has done my mind good in another way: he has shown me that professional labour is not incompatible with domestic pleasures. I wish you could see him as I do, in the midst of his family, with his fine children playing about him, with his wife, a charming cultivated woman, who adores him, and who is his best companion and friend. Before I knew the chief justice, I had seen other great lawyers and judges, some of them crabbed old bachelors, others uneasily yoked to vulgar helpmates — having married early in life women whom they had dragged up as they rose, but who were always pulling them down — had seen some of these learned men sink into mere epicures, and become dead to intellectual enjoyment — others, with higher minds, and originally fine talents, I had seen in premature old age, with understandings contracted and palsied by partial or overstrained exertion, worn out, mind and body, and only late, very late in life, just attaining wealth and honours, when they were incapable of enjoying them. This had struck me as a deplorable and discouraging spectacle — a sad termination of a life of labour. But now I see a man in the prime of life, in the full vigour of all his intellectual faculties and moral sensibility, with a high character, fortune, and professional honours, all obtained by his own merit and exertions, with the prospect of health and length of days to enjoy and communicate happiness. Exulting in the sight of this resplendent luminary, and conscious that it will guide and cheer me forwards, I ‘bless the useful light.’”

  Our young lawyer was so honestly enthusiastic in his admiration of this
great man, and was so full of the impression that had been made on his mind, that he forgot in this letter to advert to the advantage which, in a professional point of view, he might derive from the good opinion formed of him by the chief justice. In consequence of Solicitor Babington’s telling his clients the share which Alfred had in winning Colonel Hauton’s cause, he was employed in a suit of considerable importance, in which a great landed property was at stake. It was one of those standing suits which last from year to year, and which seem likely to linger on from generation to generation. Instead of considering his brief in this cause merely as a means of obtaining a fee, instead of contenting himself to make some motion of course, which fell to his share, Alfred set himself seriously to study the case, and searched indefatigably for all the precedents that could bear upon it. He was fortunate enough, or rather he was persevering enough, to find an old case in point, which had escaped the attention of the other lawyers. Mr. Friend was one of the senior counsel in this cause, and he took generous care that Alfred’s merit should not now, as upon a former occasion, he concealed. Mr. Friend prevailed upon his brother barristers to agree in calling upon Alfred to speak to his own case in point; and the chief justice, who presided, said, “This case is new to me. This had escaped me, Mr. Percy; I must take another day to reconsider the matter, before I can pronounce judgment.”

  This from the chief justice, with the sense which Alfred’s brother barristers felt of his deserving such notice, was of immediate and material advantage to our young lawyer. Attorneys and solicitors turned their eyes upon him, briefs began to flow in, and his diligence increased with his business. As junior counsel, he still had little opportunity in the common course of things of distinguishing himself, as it frequently fell to his share only to say a few words; but he never failed to make himself master of every case in which he was employed. And it happened one day, when the senior counsel was ill, the judge called upon the next barrister.—”Mr. Trevors, are you prepared?”

  “My lord — I can’t say — no, my lord.”

  “Mr. Percy, are you prepared?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “So I thought — always prepared: go on, sir — go on, Mr. Percy.”

  He went on, and spoke so ably, and with such comprehensive knowledge of the case and of the law, that he obtained a decision in favour of his client, and established his own reputation as a man of business and of talents, who was always prepared. For the manner in which he was brought forward and distinguished by the chief justice he was truly grateful. This was a species of patronage honourable both to the giver and the receiver. Here was no favour shown disproportionate to deserts, but here was just distinction paid to merit, and generous discernment giving talents opportunity of developing themselves. These opportunities would only have been the ruin of a man who could not show himself equal to the occasion; but this was not the case with Alfred. His capacity, like the fairy tent, seemed to enlarge so as to contain all that it was necessary to comprehend: and new powers appeared in him in new situations.

  Alfred had been introduced by his brother Erasmus to some of those men of literature with whom he had become acquainted at Lady Spilsbury’s good dinners. Among these was a Mr. Dunbar, a gentleman who had resided for many years in India, from whom Alfred, who constantly sought for information from all with whom he conversed, had learned much of Indian affairs. Mr. Dunbar had collected some curious tracts on Mohammedan law, and glad to find an intelligent auditor on his favourite subject, a subject not generally interesting, he willingly communicated all he knew to Alfred, and lent him his manuscripts and scarce tracts, which Alfred, in the many leisure hours that a young lawyer can command before he gets into practice, had studied, and of which he had made himself master. It happened a considerable time afterwards that the East India Company had a cause — one of the greatest causes ever brought before our courts of law — relative to the demand of some native bankers in Hindostan against the company for upwards of four millions of rupees. This Mr. Dunbar, who had a considerable interest in the cause, and who was intimate with several of the directors, recommended it to them to employ Mr. Alfred Percy, who, as he knew, had had ample means of information, and who had studied a subject of which few of his brother barristers had any knowledge. The very circumstance of his being employed in a cause of such importance was of great advantage to him; and the credit he gained by accurate and uncommon knowledge in the course of the suit at once raised his reputation among the best judges, and established him in the courts.

  On another occasion, Alfred’s moral character was as serviceable as his literary taste had been in recommending him to his clients. Buckhurst Falconer had introduced him to a certain Mr. Clay, known by the name of French Clay. In a conversation after dinner, when the ladies had retired, Mr. Clay had boasted of his successes with the fair sex, and had expressed many sentiments that marked him for a profligate coxcomb.

  Alfred felt disgust and indignation for this parade of vice. There was one officer in company who strongly sympathized in his feelings; this led to farther acquaintance and mutual esteem. This officer soon afterwards married Lady Harriet —— , a beautiful young woman, with whom he lived happily for some time, till, unfortunately, while her husband was abroad with his regiment, chance brought the wife, at a watering-place, into the company of French Clay, and imprudence, the love of flattery, coquetry, and self-confidence, made her a victim to his vanity. Love he had none — nor she either — but her disgrace was soon discovered, or revealed; and her unhappy and almost distracted husband immediately commenced a suit against Clay. He chose Alfred Percy for his counsel. In this cause, where strong feelings of indignation were justly roused, and where there was room for oratory, Alfred spoke with such force and pathos that every honest heart was touched. The verdict of the jury showed the impression which he had made upon them: his speech was universally admired; and those who had till now known him only as a man of business, and a sound lawyer, were surprised to find him suddenly display such powers of eloquence. Counsellor Friend’s plain advice to him had always been, “Never harangue about nothing: if your client require it, he is a fool, and never mind him; never speak till you’ve something to say, and then only say what you have to say.

  ‘Words are like leaves, and where they most abound,

  Much fruit of solid sense is seldom found.’”

  Friend now congratulated Alfred with all his honest affectionate heart, and said, with a frown that struggled hard with a smile, “Well, I believe I must allow you to be an orator. But, take care — don’t let the lawyer merge in the advocate. Bear it always in mind, that a mere man of words at the bar — or indeed any where else — is a mere man of straw.”

  The chief justice, who knew how to say the kindest things in the most polite manner, was heard to observe, that “Mr. Percy had done wisely, to begin by showing that he had laid a solid foundation of law, on which the ornaments of oratory could be raised high, and supported securely.”

  French Clay’s affair with Lady Harriot had been much talked of in the fashionable world; from a love of scandal or a love of justice, from zeal in the cause of morality or from natural curiosity, her trial had been a matter of general interest to the ladies, young and old. In consequence Mr. Alfred Percy’s speech was prodigiously read, and, from various motives, highly applauded. When a man begins to rise, all hands — all hands but the hands of his rivals — are ready to push him up, and all tongues exclaim, “’Twas I helped!” or, “’Twas what I always foretold!”

  The Lady Angelica Headingham now bethought herself that she had a little poem, written by Mr. Alfred Percy, which had been given to her long ago by Miss Percy, and of which, at the time she received it, her ladyship had thought so little, that hardly deigning to bestow the customary tribute of a compliment, she had thrown it, scarcely perused, into her writing-box. It was now worth while to rummage for it, and now, when the author had a name, her ladyship discovered that the poem was charming — absolutely charming! Such
an early indication of talents! Such a happy promise of genius! — Oh! she had always foreseen that Mr. Alfred Percy would make an uncommon figure in the world!

  “Bless me! does your ladyship know him?”

  “Oh! intimately! — That is, I never saw him exactly — but all his family I’ve known intimately — ages ago in the country.”

  “I should so like to meet him! And do pray give me a copy of the verses — and me! — and me!”

  To work went the pens of all the female amateurs, in scribbling copies of “The Lawyer’s May-day.” — And away went the fair patroness in search of the author — introduced herself with unabashed grace, invited him for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday — Engaged? how unfortunate! — Well, for next week? a fortnight hence? three weeks? positively she must have him at her conversazione — she must give him — No, he must give her a day, he must consent to lose a day — so many of her friends and real judges were dying to see him.

  To save the lives of so many judges, he consented to lose an evening — the day was fixed — Alfred found her conversazione very brilliant — was admired — and admired others in his turn as much as was expected. It was an agreeable variety of company and of thought to him, and he promised to go sometimes to her ladyship’s parties — a promise which delighted her much, particularly as he had not yet given a copy of the verses to Lady Spilsbury. Lady Spilsbury, to whom the verses quickly worked round, was quite angry that her friend Erasmus had not given her an early copy; and now invitations the most pressing came from Lady Spilsbury to her excellent literary dinners. If Alfred had been so disposed, he might, among these fetchers and carriers of bays, have been extolled to the skies; but he had too much sense and prudence to lose the substance for the shadow, to sink a solid character into a drawing-room reputation. Of this he had seen the folly in Buckhurst Falconer’s case, and now, if any farther warning on this subject had been wanting, he would have taken it from the example of poor Seebright, the poet, whom he met the second time he went to Lady Angelica Headingham’s. Poor Seebright, as the world already began to call him, from being an object of admiration, was beginning to sink into an object of pity. Instead of making himself independent by steady exertions in any respectable profession, instead of making his way in the republic of letters by some solid work of merit, he frittered away his time among fashionable amateurs, feeding upon their flattery, and living on in the vain hope of patronage. Already the flight of his genius had been restrained, the force of his wing impaired; instead of soaring superior, he kept hovering near the earth; his “kestrel courage fell,” he appeared to be almost tamed to the domestic state to which he was reduced — yet now and then a rebel sense of his former freedom, and of his present degradation, would appear. “Ah! if I were but independent as you are! If I had but followed a profession as you have done!” said he to Alfred, when, apart from the crowd, they had an opportunity of conversing confidentially.