Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  “Mr. Russell will, I am perfectly persuaded, make Lidhurst every thing we can desire,” said his lordship; “an honour to his country, an ornament to his family. It is my decided opinion that man is but a bundle of habits; and it’s my maxim, that education is second nature — first, indeed, in many cases. For, except that I am staggered about original genius, I own I conceive with Hartley, that early impressions and associations are all in all: his vibrations and vibratiuncles are quite satisfactory. But what I particularly wish for Lidhurst, sir, is, that he should be trained as soon as possible into a statesman. Mr. Vivian, I presume you mean to follow up public business, and no doubt will make a figure. So I prophesy; and I am used to these things. And from Lidhurst, too, under similar tuition, I may with reason expect miracles—’hope to hear him thundering in the house of commons in a few years—’confess ‘am not quite so impatient to have the young dog in the house of incurables; for you know he could not be there without being in my shoes, which I have not done with yet — ha! ha! ha! —— Each in his turn, my boy! In the mean time, Lady Mary, shall we join the ladies yonder, on the terrace? Lady Glistonbury walks so slow, that she will be seven hours in coming to us; so we had best go to her ladyship: if the mountain won’t go to Mahomet — you know, of course, what follows.”

  On their way to the terrace, Lord Glistonbury, who always heard himself speak with singular complacency, continued to give his ideas on education; sometimes appealing to Mr. Russell, sometimes happy to catch the eye of Lady Mary.

  “Now, my idea for Lidhurst is simply this: — that he should know every thing that is in all the best books in the library, but yet that he should be the farthest possible from a book-worm — that he should never, except in a set speech in the house, have the air of having opened a book in his life — mother-wit for me! — in most cases — and that easy style of originality, which shows the true gentleman. As to morals — Lidhurst, walk on, my boy — as to morals, I confess I couldn’t bear to see any thing of the Joseph Surface about him. A youth of spirit must, you know, Mr. Vivian — excuse me, Lady Mary, this is — an aside — be something of a latitudinarian to keep in the fashion: not that I mean to say so exactly to Lidhurst — no, no — on the contrary, Mr. Russell, it is our cue, as well as this reverend gentleman’s,” looking back at the chaplain, who bowed assent before he knew to what, “it is our cue, as well as this reverend gentleman’s, to preach prudence, and temperance, and all the cardinal virtues.”

  “Cardinal virtues! very good, faith! my lord,” said the lawyer, looking at the clergyman.

  “Temperance!” repeated the chaplain, winking at the officer; “upon my soul, my lord, that’s too bad.”

  “Prudence!” repeated the captain; “that’s too clean a cut at poor Wicksted, my lord.”

  Before his lordship had time to preach any more prudence, they arrived within bowing distance of the ladies, who had, indeed, advanced at a very slow rate. Vivian was not acquainted with any of the ladies of the Glistonbury family; for they had, till this summer, resided at another of their country seats, in a distant county. His mother had often met them at parties in town.

  Lady Glistonbury was a thin, stiffened, flattened figure — she was accompanied by two other female forms, one old, the other young; not each a different grace, but alike all three in angularity, and in a cold haughtiness of mien. After reconnoitring with their glasses the party of gentlemen, these ladies quickened their step; and Lady Glistonbury, making her countenance as affable as it was in its nature to be, exclaimed, “My dear Lady Mary Vivian! have I the pleasure to see your ladyship? — They told me it was only visitors to my lord.”

  Mr. Vivian had then the honour of being introduced to her ladyship, to her eldest daughter, Lady Sarah Lidhurst, and to Miss Strictland, the governess. By all of these ladies he was most graciously received; but poor Russell was not so fortunate; nothing could be more cold and repulsive than their reception of him. This did not make Lady Sarah appear very agreeable to Vivian; he thought her, at this first view, one of the least attractive young women he had ever beheld.

  “Where is my Julia?” inquired Lord Glistonbury. “Ah! there she goes yonder, all life and spirits.”

  Vivian looked as his lordship directed his eye, and saw, at the farthest end of the terrace, a young girl of about fifteen, running very fast, with a hoop, which she was keeping up with great dexterity for the amusement of a little boy who was with her. The governess no sooner saw this than she went in pursuit of her young ladyship, calling after her, in various tones and phrases of reprehension, in French, Italian, and English; and asking whether this was a becoming employment for a young lady of her age and rank. Heedless of these reproaches, Lady Julia still ran on, away from her governess, “to chase the rolling circle’s speed,” down the slope of the terrace; thither Miss Strictland dared not pursue, but contented herself with standing on the brink, reiterating her remonstrances. At length the hoop fell, and the young lady returned, not to her governess, but, running lightly up the slope of the terrace, to her surprise, she came full in view of the company before she was aware that any strangers were there. Her straw hat being at the back of her head, Lady Glistonbury, with an indignant look, pulled it forwards.

  “What a beautiful colour! what a sweet countenance Lady Julia has!” whispered Lady Mary Vivian to Lord Glistonbury: at the same time she could not refrain from glancing her eyes towards her son, to see what effect was produced upon him. Vivian’s eyes met hers; and this single look of his mother’s revealed to him all that she had, in her great prudence, resolved to conceal. He smiled at her, and then at Russell, as much as to say, “Surely there can be no comparison between such a child as this and Selina Sidney!”

  A few minutes afterwards, in consequence of a sign from Lady Glistonbury, Julia disappeared with her governess; and the moment was unnoticed by Vivian, who was then, as his mother observed, looking up at one of the turrets of the old castle. All its inhabitants were at this time uninteresting to him, except so far as they regarded his friend Russell; but the castle itself absorbed his attention. Lord Glistonbury, charmed to see how he was struck by it, offered to show him over every part of the edifice; an offer which he and Lady Mary gladly accepted. Lady Glistonbury excused herself, professing to be unable to sustain the fatigue: she deputed her eldest daughter to attend Lady Mary in her stead; and this was the only circumstance which diminished the pleasure to Vivian, for he was obliged to show due courtesy to this stiff taciturn damsel at every turn, whilst he was intent upon seeing the architecture of the castle, and the views from the windows of the towers and loop-holes of the galleries; all which Lady Sarah pointed out with a cold, ceremonious civility, and a formal exactness of proceeding, which enraged Vivian’s enthusiastic temper. The visit ended: he railed half the time he was going home against their fair, or, as he called her, their petrified guide; then, full of the Gothic beauties of Glistonbury, he determined, as soon as possible, to turn his own modern house into a castle. The very next morning he had an architect to view it, and to examine its capabilities. It happened that, about this time, several of the noblemen and gentry, in the county in which Vivian resided, had been seized with this rage for turning comfortable houses into uninhabitable castles. And, however perverse or impracticable this retrograde movement in architecture might seem, there were always at hand professional projectors, to convince gentlemen that nothing was so feasible. Provided always that gentlemen approve their estimates as well as their plans, they undertake to carry buildings back, in a trice, two, or three, or half a dozen centuries, as may be required, to make them Gothic or Saracenic, and to “add every grace that time alone can give.” A few days after Vivian had been at Glistonbury Castle, when Lord Glistonbury came to return the visit, Russell, who accompanied his lordship, found his friend encompassed with plans and elevations.

  “Surely, my dear Vivian,” said he, seizing the first moment he could speak to him, “you are not going to spoil this excellent house? It is completely fi
nished, in handsome modern architecture, perfectly comfortable and convenient, light, airy, large enough, warm rooms, well distributed, with ample means of getting at each apartment; and if you set about to new-model and transform it into a castle, you must, I see, by your plan, alter the proportions of almost every room, and spoil the comfort of the whole; turn square to round, and round again to square; and, worse than all, turn light to darkness — only for the sake of having what is called a castle, but what has not, in fact, any thing of the grandeur or solid magnificence of a real ancient edifice. These modern baby-house miniatures of castles, which gentlemen ruin themselves to build, are, after all, the most paltry, absurd things imaginable.”

  To this Vivian was, after some dispute, forced to agree; but he said, “that his should not be a baby-house; that he would go to any expense to make it really magnificent.”

  “As magnificent, I suppose, as Glistonbury Castle?”

  “If possible: — that is, I confess, the object of my emulation.”

  “Ah!” said Russell, shaking his head, “these are the objects of emulation, for which country gentlemen often ruin themselves; barter their independence and real respectability; reduce themselves to distress and disgrace: these are the objects for which they sell either their estates or their country; become placemen or beggars; and end either in the liberties of the King’s Bench, or the slaveries of St. James’s.”

  “Impossible for me! you know my public principles,” said Vivian: “and you know that I think the life of an independent country gentleman the most respectable of all others — you know my principles.”

  “I know your facility,” said Russell: “if you begin by sacrificing thus to your taste, do you think you will not end by sacrificing to your interest?”

  “Never! never!” cried Vivian.

  “Then you imagine that a strong temptation will not act where a weak one has been found irresistible.”

  “Of this I am certain,” said Vivian: “I could never be brought to sell my country, or to forfeit my honour.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Russell: “you might, in your utmost need, have another alternative; you might forfeit your love; you might give up Selina Sidney, and marry for money — all for the sake of a castle!”

  Struck by this speech, Vivian exclaimed, “I would give up a thousand castles rather than run such a hazard!”

  “Let us then coolly calculate,” said Russell. “What would the castle cost you?”

  The expense, even by the estimates of the architects, which, in the execution, are usually doubled, was enormous, such as Vivian acknowledged was unsuited even to his ample fortune. His fortune, though considerable, was so entailed, that he would, if he exceeded his income, be soon reduced to difficulties for ready money. But then his mother had several thousands in the stocks, which she was ready to lend him to forward this castle-building. It was a project which pleased her taste, and gratified her aristocratic notions.

  Vivian assured his friend at parting, that his reason was convinced: that he would not yield to the whims of taste, and that he would prudently give up his folly. So he determined; and he abided by his determination till he heard numbers speak on the other side of the question. With Vivian, those who spoke last frequently seemed to speak best; and, in general, the number of voices overpowered the weight of argument. By the persuasions of his mother, the example of his neighbours, and the urgency of architects and men of taste who got about him soon afterwards, he was convinced that there was no living without a castle, and that the expense would be next to nothing at all. Convinced, we should not say; for he yielded, against his conviction, from mere want of power to resist reiterated solicitations. He had no other motive; for the enthusiasm raised by the view of Glistonbury Castle had passed away: he plainly saw, what Russell had pointed out to him, that he should spoil the inside of his house for the sake of the outside; and, for his own part, he preferred comfort to show. It was not, therefore, to please his own taste that he ran into this imprudent expense, but merely to gratify the taste of others.

  Now the bustle of building began, and workmen swarmed round his house; the foundations sank, the scaffolds rose; and many times did Vivian sigh and repent, when he saw how much was to be undone before any thing could be done; when he found his house dismantled, saw the good ceilings and elegant cornices knocked to pieces, saw the light domes and modern sashes give way; all taken out to be replaced, at profuse expense, by a clumsy imitation of Gothic; how often did be sigh and calculate, when he saw the tribes of workmen file off as their dinner bell rang! how often did he bless himself, when he beheld the huge beams of timber dragged into his yards, and the solid masses of stone brought from a quarry at an enormous distance! — Vivian perceived that the expense would be treble the estimate; and said, that if the thing were to be done again, he would never consent to it; but now, as Lady Mary observed, it was too late to repent; and it was, at any rate, best to go on and finish it with spirit — since it was impossible (nobody knew why) to stop. He hurried on the workmen with impatience; for he was anxious to have the roof and some apartments in his castle finished before his marriage. The dilatoriness of the lawyers, and the want of the trustee, who had not yet arrived in England, were no longer complained of so grievously by the lover. Russell, one day, as he saw Vivian overlooking his workmen, and urging them to expedition, smiled, and asked whether the impatience of an architect or of a lover was now predominant in his mind. Vivian, rather offended by the question, replied, that his eagerness to finish this part of his castle arose from his desire to give an agreeable surprise to his bride; and he declared that his passion for Selina was as ardent, at this moment, as it had ever been; but that it was impossible to make lawyers move faster than their accustomed pace; and that Miss Sidney was too secure of his affection, and he too well convinced of hers, to feel that sort of anxiety, which persons who had less confidence in each other might experience in similar circumstances. This was all very true, and very reasonable; but Russell could not help perceiving that Vivian’s language and tone were somewhat altered since the time when he was ready to brave heaven and earth to marry his mistress, without license or consent of friends, without the possibility of waiting a few months till he was of age. In fact, though Vivian would not allow it, this consent of friends, this ceasing of opposition, this security and tranquillity of happiness, had considerably changed the appearance, at least, of his love. Lady Mary perceived it, with a resolution to say nothing, and see how it would end. Selina did not perceive it for some time; for she was of a most unsuspicious temper; and her confidence in Vivian was equal to the fondness of her love. She began to think, indeed, that the lawyers were provokingly slow; and when Vivian did not blame them as much as he used to do, she only thought that he understood business better than she did — besides, the necessary trustee was not come — and, in short, the last thing that occurred to her mind was to blame Vivian.

  The trustee at length arrived, and the castle was almost in the wished-for state of forwardness, when a new cause of delay arose — a county election: but how this election was brought on, and how it was conducted, it is necessary to record. It happened that a relation of Vivian’s was appointed to a new seventy-four gun ship, of which he came to take the command at Yarmouth, which was within a few miles of him. Vivian recollected that Russell had often expressed a desire to go on board a man-of-war. Vivian, therefore, after having appointed a day for their going, went to Glistonbury to invite Russell: his pupil, Lord Lidhurst, begged to be permitted to accompany them: and Lady Julia, the moment she heard of this new seventy-four gun ship, was, as her governess expressed it, wild to be of the party. Indeed, any thing that had the name of a party of pleasure, and that promised a transient relief from the tedious monotony in which her days passed; any thing that gave a chance of even a few hours’ release from the bondage in which she was held between the restraints of the most rigid of governesses and the proudest of mothers, appeared delightful to this lively and childish girl.
She persecuted her governess with entreaties, till at last she made Miss Strictland go with her petition to Lady Glistonbury; whilst, in the mean time, Lady Julia overwhelmed her father with caresses, till he consented; and with much difficulty, prevailed upon Lady Glistonbury to give her permission for the young ladies to go with their governess, their brother, their father, and Lady Mary Vivian, on this excursion. The invitation was now extended to all the company then at the castle; including the representative of the county, who, being just threatened with a fit of the gout, brought on by hard drinking at the last election, expressed some reluctance to going with this party on the water. But this gentleman was now paying his humble devoirs to the Lady Sarah Lidhurst; and it was represented to him, by all who understood the ground, that he would give mortal offence if he did not go; so it was ruled, that, hot or cold, gout or no gout, he must appear in the Lady Sarah’s train: he submitted to this perilous necessity in the most gallant manner. The day proved tolerably fine — Vivian had an elegant entertainment provided for the company, under a marquee pitched on the shore — they embarked in a pleasure-boat — Lady Sarah was very sick, and her admirer very cold; but Lady Julia was in extasies at every thing she saw and felt — she feared nothing, found nothing inconvenient — was charmed to be drawn so easily from the boat up the high side of the ship — charmed to find herself on deck — charmed to see the sails, the ropes, the rigging, the waves, the sea, the sun, the clouds, the sailors, the cook dressing dinner — all, all indiscriminately charmed her; and, like a school-girl broke loose, she ran about, wild with spirits, asking questions, some sensible, some silly; laughing at her own folly, flying from this side to that, from one end of the ship to the other, down the ladders and up again; whilst Mr. Russell, who was deputed to take care of her, could scarcely keep up with her: Lord Glistonbury stood by, holding his sides and laughing aloud: Miss Strictland, quite disabled by the smell of the ship, was lying on a bed in the state cabin; and Lady Sarah, all the time shaded by an umbrella held by her shivering admirer, sat, as if chained upright in her chair of state, upon deck, scorning her sister’s childish levity, and proving herself, with all due propriety, incapable of being moved to surprise or admiration by any object on land or sea.