Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  “I have done all that I could for him, and I trust that he will not be materially injured. His unhappy comrade is recovering. In the morning, when the manager returned, his rage was alternately tragic and comic: his losses were really tragic, but the inconsistencies of his fury were irresistibly comic. He accused everybody and everything of being the cause of his misfortune. He hated the place; he had never wished to come there; he had always wished to go to the north. He hated the people. — Bad people! — He said he was sure they had a special spite against him. He was certain that it was some low fellows about the town who were refused admittance who set the theatre on fire — it was some of the vagabond fellows from the bogs — it was one of the stable-boys at the inn, to revenge the horses not being kept there — it was one of his own horse-boys, because he had been flogged. Then suddenly turning upon Orlando, ‘It was you, Mr Orlando More — it was you! You burned the theatre on me, because I praised the ventriloquist. You did — you know you did. No — you burned it because Jack Clinton laughed at you! You burned it — you did! You burned it out of spite to me, because I — I — I —— Everything I had upon earth burned to pieces! My dresses, my scenes, my double theatre, my’ —— He burst into tears; Orlando put into his hands the box he had saved.

  “The poor man stared up at him with a puzzled expression of doubt and admiration as he clutched the money-box with rapacious joy. I told him that to Mr Orlando More he owed not only the safety of his money, but of his beautiful horses, all of which would have been burned but for his presence of mind. Quite subdued, the manager turned to him and said, ‘Mr More, our engagement is at an end: my theatre and its properties are destroyed — but the horses are saved. You have saved them. Will you take the command of them, and be my partner?’

  “I could see that Orlando was for a moment tempted by this offer of being Master of the Horse, possessor of these noble animals; but after a moment’s hesitation, he refused it decidedly. The manager went on to expatiate upon what might be done ‘in the way of a new Circus,’ and how they might get engagements in Dublin and everywhere. Mr More still declined, but held out his hand — the sight of which, bound and bandaged, seemed to touch the poor man’s heart.—’Thank you for your offers, sir; let us part friends at all events.’ They shook hands, and Mr More returned home with me.

  “I have written this long history to you, my dear sir, to show you how well your protégé has, by his presence of mind, courage, generosity, and, I may add, discretion, justified your recommendation.

  “I am in want of a secretary and assistant; I have offered the situation to Mr More. He says it would be the height of his ambition. Do you and your nephew think it would suit him? Let me have your answer as soon as possible.

  Yours sincerely,

  Adam Calton.”

  “Is it not glorious?” said Walter: “Orlando to be Dr Calton’s secretary and assistant! The very thing in the world I should have wished for him! Here is what he says to me about it and about everything. Uncle, it is not very long:” —

  “Dear Mr Walter —

  “Excuse my left-handed writing. My right has been burned; but owing to your friend Dr Calton’s skill and care, it will not signify. But what do I not owe to him and to you? You first made me feel that I might be something better — that I might do more than strut and fret my hour upon a strolling stage. You first made me feel that I might be not the mere Child of Promise, but the Man of Performance — of something more than the performance of a Harlequin or a Merry-Andrew. To you and your good uncle I owe my introduction to one who has, in the few hours I have known him, put more ideas into my head than I ever had in all my life before. — When he came into the green-room, and examined and admired all our contrivances, and when I heard his observations, then first I felt what real science is, and at what a distance from real knowledge was a poor mechanical jobber like myself. He took me to see the Great Telescope; and when I beheld the vast tube, in all its ponderous length, moved with inaudible ease and facility, and surely directed to its point — and when I beheld through it the vast orb of the moon, and its extinct and unextinct volcanos, a sense of the sublime came over me, such as I had never before experienced, and by which I was at once touched and proud, I own, to feel myself capable. I can attempt only to speak to you of my sensations — thoughts I had none adequate to the occasion; such multitudes of new wonders were pointed out to me — nebulæ, clouds of new worlds in clusters, and interminable distant regions of discoverable glories! — My imagination shrank from its own insufficiency to reach to that conception — a sense of awe and reverence, a feeling of the devotional sublime possessed me afterwards as I returned home, slowly walking through the silent fields. Suddenly I heard the sounds of boisterous revelry from our tents, which struck me with disgust and horror. Horror indeed! — by their drunken carelessness they set fire to the tents. * * *

  “Nothing left but the bare iron poles and framework! I went this morning to look at the blank scene of desolation. — There I stood alone, and looked around upon the black skeleton of that amphitheatre which I had so few hours before seen so gay, so splendid, so admired! Those arabesque panels! that delicate tracery! some scattered fragments had escaped the capricious flames, and hung in broken and discoloured scraps, and here and there a half-burnt rag! How mean! — how paltry! — all that I had looked upon as so superb. A few remaining letters of Victoria’s name still stood out in the centre panel; and a broken cast of Britannia caught my eye. This figure had been a favourite of mine: it was really a beautiful cast; I had made desperate efforts to save it from the fire, but in vain — it now lay shattered and neglected in the ruins. I laid my hand on the head of one of her attendant lions. Instantly there burst forth a loud peal of music—’Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!’ I burst into tears at this triumphant sound in such sad circumstances! so different from those in which I had so often gloried in hearing it in the crowded house — hands, and hearts, and voices accompanying it in the pomp and pride of swell! It was but a stage trick, however, you know, after all. The musical clock was concealed in the lion’s head, and I had unconsciously touched the signal spring. I am not ashamed to tell you of the great emotion I felt at seeing this desolation in the scene of my former triumphs; for, after all, I consider this fire as the most fortunate circumstance of my life. My engagement with the manager is at an end, and Dr Calton has been pleased to say that he will try me as his secretary and assistant. I could wish for no greater happiness upon earth; I shall be able to support my mother in ease and comfort all the days of her life, and I shall be myself with one of the ablest and most benevolent of men; and always learning, always acquiring new knowledge, and always engaged in pursuits the most ennobling and delightful. — You will, I am sure, be as much rejoiced for me as I am for myself.—’Upon trial’ only, of course, the doctor takes me at present; but I will not disappoint him — I will not disappoint you. You that have saved me: you have done more for me, as Dr Calton says, by your strong character than even by all your generosity — more, I am sure, than any mere money could do! I hope I shall not be too late for to-day’s post.

  Abruptly, but gratefully yours,

  Orlando More.”

  Quick rise the hopes! rapid flies the imagination, of childhood and of youth! — Already were Amy and Bessy seeing visions, and planning schemes for Orlando’s future life, and most especially settling the how and the where of his meeting with his mother and sister. Whether they would tell, or whether they would not tell Mary all that had come to pass, was the immediate question. They should or should not tell her, Amy said, “just as their mother advised.” Their mother commended Amy’s discreet reference to her, and advised that they should wait till they were quite sure of Dr Calton’s determination; and, above all, till they should know Orlando’s own wishes. He might wish to be the person to tell all this to his mother himself; and he might like to choose his own time for telling it.—”Stay a bit,” their uncle’s favourite maxim, was not much relishe
d by the young ones: yet in this instance, supported by their mother’s quiet reasoning, they could not but admit that it would be best, certainly, to wait for the answers to the letters. It was only to be hoped that these answers would certainly come by return of post.

  And so they did. And satisfactory they were in the main — perfectly satisfactory to Walter’s uncle and mother was Dr Calton’s reply; but Bessy did not quite understand all the ifs and buts; she was too impatient, too eager; and even Amy the impartial thought that when Walter had passed his word for anybody, there needed not to be so much, so very much caution, and so many little particulars put in writing, about what “he could only promise,” and what “Orlando must not expect,” and so forth: especially about payment — salary — remuneration — or whatever words he put it in, Amy thought that Dr Calton had better not have said a word about it.

  Walter, to whom she whispered these her thoughts, was of opinion that it was much better to be quite plain in explicitly stating all things at first; “then people would not misunderstand and dispute afterwards, and perhaps quarrel about them at last.”

  “Oh yes, very right to say it all, but not to write it,” replied Amy.

  “Why not write it?” said Walter.

  “So like bargaining,” said Amy.

  “Well, and it is bargaining; so why should it not be like bargaining?”

  “But gentlemen never bargain, do they?” said Amy.

  “Don’t they?” said Walter. “Did you never hear of gentlemen bargaining?”

  “About buying horses — yes.”

  “And letting land, and a hundred things,” said Walter. “I have been by in the study when my uncle was letting land, and I remember he always said, ‘Put it in writing — what is written remains;’ and the farmer answered, ‘True, your honour — fast bind, fast find.’”

  Still Amy thought that it was disagreeable in Dr Calton to be so particular, as if he suspected Orlando, and as if he still thought that he required to be bound over, as they say, to his good behaviour. Walter was inclined a little, on this point, to feel with Amy, yet he thought, as a sage, with Dr Calton: he was sensible that one who had been living in such company, and who had really been so changeable and imprudent as Orlandino had been, could not be depended upon at once, and unreservedly, unconditionally. It was right and good for him that he should feel this. Dr Calton engaged him for the remainder of this year of probation, in which he might have means and opportunity of fulfilling his promise of good conduct and steady perseverance. It was in this hope that Walter had made, and was making for him, such a sacrifice of his own amusement and pleasure.

  For these months — in which Orlando, untrained as he was in all which, as secretary and assistant lecturer, he could be of any real use — Dr Calton allowed him a salary more as an encouragement than as remuneration. It was only a very small sum, and the doctor specified exactly what he should require from him; what hours of the day he should call upon him, and expect that he should be at his bidding, to write or assist him in anyway desired; and what hours he would have to himself. Several hours of the day and night were left to him for reading and improving himself; or for writing, as he proposed, for the booksellers, translations, or whatever he could to earn money for his poor mother. This kind consideration for his main object, for the real mainspring now of his existence, the wish nearest his heart, touched Orlando beyond all the rest, as his letter to Walter showed; and Amy was now quite satisfied with the exactness of Dr Calton’s specification.

  But Bessy’s attention had flitted far away. She saw in Walter’s hand a letter directed to Orlando’s mother, and a note to Mary. But it was not for her to see. Walter put it in his breast coat-pocket immediately. It was the first letter that Orlando had ever written to his mother. It was not to be seen by anybody but herself: Walter was requested to deliver it, which he did as soon as possible. He put the letter and the note into their hands without a word — and was gone.

  No one ever saw the letter to the mother — not even Mary. Her mother never spoke of it, but read it over and over again; the first time trembling so, that she could hardly hold the paper. With one deep sigh when she had finished, but without shedding a tear, she read it again and again, and her hand steadied, and at last a shower of tears came to her relief; and then she folded up the letter and put it into her bosom, where she “would keep it ever.”

  Orlando’s note to Mary contained one pound, and a promise to send her “the same” every month, independently of what he might, as he hoped, be able to have always ready for his mother. He requested that Mary would apply the one pound monthly to her own use, in hiring a country girl-of-all-work, who should do all the too hard and heavy labour which she had now to undergo, and who might thus leave her some time for her own profit and improvement. It was a small sum, but it would be more than sufficient for the purpose intended. And Mary consulted the young ladies as to how she should lay out what would fall to her own share in the best manner for herself and her mother.

  It was very useful to Amy and Bessy to be thus called upon to advise, as it obliged them to calculate and to consider exactly how to proportion means to the proposed end. They saw by what small and slow degrees things desired can be obtained or must be effected in real life; and they perceived how, in vulgar version, “Many a little makes a mickle” — how many tiny possibilities must be accumulated, like grains of sand, to make up a whole!

  Mary was now able to go to an excellent school for some hours every day, when she could be spared from her home duties. Her schooling was not gratis; she paid a small stipend from her brother’s supply, which prevented her from feeling quite dependent upon charity; and she was thus instructed in all which her mother’s fallen fortunes had prevented her hitherto from having time or opportunity to learn; and thus gradually she was prepared for any change in their circumstances which might take place.

  It is scarcely necessary to say how happy all these combined little efforts of his sisters, and the great kindness of his indulgent and approving mother, made Walter. He constantly gave Orlando the pleasure of hearing how things were going on at home; and Orlando, on his part, wrote him a regular journal, showing how daily and hourly kind Dr Calton continued to be. This good friend allowed him the use of his own collection of scientific books; and as he subscribed to an excellent circulating library in Dublin — (Webbe’s) — Orlando had the advantage of as many amusing and instructive books as he could devour. Devour he really did with insatiable appetite, growing by what it fed upon. “My uncle” began to be somewhat afraid that he would swallow down too voraciously without chewing, and that there would be an indigestion of knowledge, perhaps a surfeit. He read over, with apprehension, the bill of fare which Orlando furnished in one of his letters. But his apprehensions were allayed by some observations and counsel from the prudent and experienced Dr Calton, who warned and restrained Orlando’s omnivorous appetite, and made him temperate in his mental food. The doctor exacted from his pupil rather severe application to the elementary works, which were necessary to ground him in the knowledge essential to an assistant lecturer; and he was satisfied and pleased, as he wrote to Walter and his uncle, with the temper, docility, and steadiness with which his protégé submitted to restrictions and adhered to his duty. “Steadiness!” — Walter put his finger triumphantly upon that word as he showed it to his uncle in the doctor’s letter; underlined, too, by one not given to underlining upon every slight occasion.