“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 litt
le 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?”—”15,000l., no, 20,000l. per annum.”—”Indeed!”—”Mrs. Falconer, has not Count Altenberg 20,000l. 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 10,000l. or 20,000l. 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 dr
essed, 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.
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 128