Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  “Who do you qualify,” enquired the Abbé “with the name of half-savages?”

  “Those Englishmen,” replied De Touranges.

  “And why so?” enquired St. Remi.

  “Because I can consider them no otherwise,” answered the Marquis.

  “I think you wrong, however,” replied the Abbé. “I know no nation of Europe more enlightened, more respectable, at least so they appear to me, even from the little I know of them, by the translations we have of their best authors; for thought I read English, it is hardly fluently enough to enable me to enjoy them in the original.”

  “You might as well judge of the wit of the Spaniards from a French version of Don Quixote. The Spaniards, however, have as little of what is properly called wit, as the English of any kind of genius. As to the latter, they are a nation to whom we owe almost all the evils that war has brought upon France; and the greatest of all evils, that which has now destroyed her.”

  De Touranges the sunk into one of his mournful reveries. and though the Abbé undertook to defend the nation for whom he pleaded from the imputation, and proceeded with equal reason, eloquence, and method; the dialogue became a monologue, for de Touranges had ceased to listen, and gave no other answer, than that he thought the English a proud, ferocious, and hardly civilized people; and that the man they had lately seen was a just specimen of the nation.

  While the unfortunate de Touranges was thus indulging national prejudice, roused and embittered by peculiar calamity, D’Alonville remained in conversation with the two English gentlemen, though only by one of them he could make himself understood in his own language, for the elder, whose name was Melton, could speak no language but English, though he was now on his return from the tour of Europe. His friend, however, informed D’Alonville, that they had not travelled together the whole way, but that they met by accident at Turin, Mr. Melton coming last from Naples, and himself from Geneva, where he had been since France had became an uneasy residence for strangers. Mr. Melton receiving intelligence there of the death of two dowagers, who had kept him out of the moiety of a very large fortune, and sick of scenes for which he never had any taste, was returning to England. The young man who spoke, a younger brother of the name of Ellesmere, had agreed to accompany him through Germany, in the intention of visiting some of the German courts, and particularly Berlin; and having some thoughts of entering into the army, wished to understand more than he now did the tactics of a nation, who, under their last monarch, were the admiration of Europe. This conversation passed as D’Alonville and Ellesmere walked together down the hill; Melton had wrapped himself in his great coat and was replaced in the chaise. é when it stopped at the bottom for Ellesmere to get into it, he thanked D’Alonville in warmer and civiller terms than before, for the assistance they had received form him and his friend in their little dilemma; and added, that as they were travelling the same way, he should be glad if any opportunity offered of renewing their acquaintance. The post chaise in which these gentlemen were, notwithstanding it moved now only with three horses, proceeded faster than D’Alonville could do on the miserable and thoroughly-tired horse he was furnished with; they soon therefore left him behind, and passed the cabriole in which were the Abbe and De Touranges. — Melton had till then been silent, but at the noise the postillions made in passing each other he seemed to be roused form his reverie, and speaking to Ellesmere, said, “well Ned, what did you do with your Frenchman?”

  “Nothing,” answered Ellesmere, “but thanked him for having tried to help us, which methought was the more necessary, as you were not too civil in abusing the man’s country all the time he and his friend were standing in the rain, and helping us as well as they could.”

  “Pooh! damn it,” replied Melton, “they did not understand me.”

  “Pardon me,” said Ellesmere, “the younger of them understands English perfectly, though he does not speak it much; and even the elder one, whom I take to be a priest, seems to know at least what is said.”

  “Oh! what the fellow with a round black patch upon his scull, as if he had got a plaister for a broken head? Well! and what if he did? Who was that stately gentleman that was perched up in their rabbit-cart, and hardly put his nose out of his frizzled and furred great coat to peep at us? I suppose he was master of the other two.”

  “I did not observe him,” replied Ellesmere, “but whoever he might be, I do not believe the other two were servants. — The young man with whom I conversed, seemed to be very much of a gentleman; and from the appearance of the whole party, I fancy they are emigrant French, who are seeking in some other country, an asylum against the tyranny and injustice that is executing in their own.”

  “A fine hand to be sure they have made of their liberty,” said Melton. “What the devil had they to do to think of being free? I suppose they will now over run every country in Europe. For my part I cannot love them, nor ever did.”

  “But it does not appear, my friend,” rejoined Ellesmere, “that Italians please you better.”

  “Oh! damn them — squeaking, fiddling, scraping, persidious rascals.”

  “Or Germans?” added Ellesmere.

  “Humph! Yes they are a little better. I think they have a little more of Englishmen about them.”

  “Or Spaniards, or Portuguese?”

  “Oh curse them; I hate them, though I know very little of them. They are fellows one knows hardly any thing about.”

  “Or Russians, or Swedes, or Danes, or Dutchmen?”

  “Dutchmen! Hah! the most cheating money-getting, narrow-souled, bargain-driving scoundrels! — No, damn me, a Dutchman is worse — ..”

  “Worse than a Frenchman?” cried Ellesmere.

  “No, nothing can be worse; but I think they are almost as bad.”

  “Not one nation of Europe then has the honor of being held in any degree of esteem by you; but my good friend, might you not be enabled to judge better of their characters, if you could speak their languages?”

  I don’t wish to speak their languages; what good does it do an Englishman? When I go to my estate in Gloucestershire, now for example, which I intend to do now the gentlewomen are both gone to earth, d’ye think I shall ever see any of these fellows? And among my neighbours and tenants d’ye believe we shall find occasion for French and Italian?”

  “Why then,” said Ellesmere, “did you go among them at all professing present dislike, and having no view of subsequent improvement?”

  “Why! Nay faith I can hardly tell. I had lost a pretty round sum among sharpers.”

  “Englishmen, I suppose?”

  “Aye, Englishmen, some of them, but others of them were Irishmen; so as I hated to hear about it from my aunt and my grandmother, and did not know very well what to do to get out of their way, I was persuaded to try the tour, as it is called, which it seems a man of fortune is expected to make. — but I pique myself upon returning to England as entirely British as I sat out — And unless my mind alters strangely, I shall live and die a thorough Englishman.”

  “I do believe you,” answered Ellesmere; “and who but must rejoice, that there are still any of that excellent breed left, and that we are not wholly degenerated?”

  They now arrived at the inn where they were to remain that night. The other three travellers, who were obliged to submit to the convenience of the proprietor of their horses, reached not so far, but remained at a village three leagues behind on the road.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy.

  This wide and universal Theatre

  Presents more woful pagents than the scene

  Wherein we play.

  THE evening of the following day D’Alonville and his companions arrived at Dresden. The Abbé de St. Remi had some acquaintance there, to whom he immediately went; and who, as soon as they knew he had two friends with him, sent to desire they might see them also, as they were people of very high rank. — De Touranges with some difficulty was prevailed upon to accept the
offered hospitality; but D’Alonville, who wished to see the town, of which he had heard much, excused himself, as being confined to the hours of a private family, would have interfered too much with his design of visiting whatever was curious or worth seeing. The Abbe left him with reluctance, to wander alone round Dresden for the little time he stayed; but his solitary excursions were hardly begun on the morning after his arrival, when in one of the squares he met his English acquaintance, Mr. Ellesmere, who seemed glad to renew their acquaintance. This meeting produced another; and every time they met the mutual liking they had conceived for each other encreased; and after the third such a degree of confidence was produced, that D’Alonville gave to his new friend a brief sketch of his melancholy history.

  Ellesmere had almost all those good qualities of the heart which the English are too apt to believe exclusively their own, because they undoubtedly possess a greater share of them than any other people; so far at least can be judged either from their private or public history. Ellesmere was candid, generous, humane, and good-natured; with notions of honor which more men of the world would call romantic, and ideas of friendship which such men would condemn as ridiculous. His father, a Baronet of an ancient family but a small fortune, had wasted much of his life and more of his property in attending on a court, where, for a few years the sacrifice of his time and his independence was rewarded with an employment, which, though lucrative, was not more than adequate to the different manner of living which it obliged him to adopt. On a change of ministry he lost his place, and retired to his family seat in Straffordshire, leaving his eldest son to sustain the family consequence, by becoming in his turn a statesman, to which his ambition urged him, as well as the necessities of his family, for he had married a young woman of very high fashion, without fortune, and had already several children; but as unfortunately the lady’s connections were all among what is called the opposition, he had espoused a party in which no present advantage was offered; and as virtue is too often its own reward, the elder Mr. Ellesmere derived from his politics no profit, and only partial glory, since what was by his own friends called patriotism, was, by the other and more powerful party, stigmatized with the name of faction. — This circumstance affected his father, Sir Maynard Ellesmere, very sensibly; for though the family of Lady Sophia, his son’s wife, assisted in the support of a man so nearly allied to them, and who was in some measure the victim of that alliance, yet their power was by no means so extensive as to enable him to appear as his connections and prospects demanded; without such assistance from his father as compelled him to live himself with the most rigid economy, and to confine within very narrow bounds the expenses of the younger branches of his family, which consisted of five other children, two sons and three daughters. Of these, D’Alonville’s new acquaintance was the eldest. He had been designed by his father for the law, had passed three years at the university to apply to that study, and afterwards went to the Temple; but on a nearer view he became disgusted with the rugged features and incomprehensible manners of English jurisprudence; and Sir Maynard, who could very ill afford the expence of supporting him till the period when his pursuit of the law would become productive, yielded to his son’s wishes of quitting it entirely, and embracing the profession of arms. But as Sir Maynard saw no immediate prospect of getting his forward in this line, he had consented to his travelling to acquire the European languages, so necessary to a military man. With a very limited allowance, he had been eleven months on the Continent; and now, on the probability of a war, was returning to England.

  Yet unhackneyed in the ways of men, and unspoiled by prosperity, the sensible heart of young Ellesmere was extremely affected by the relation D’Alonville gave him, and he soon felt the most earnest desire to alleviate the sorrows of his new friend. Little was in his power beyond advice and good wishes; but those, so sincerely offered to a man, who was far from all those, from whom he could claim the soothing offices of friendship, were invaluable. D’Alonville felt that they were so; and once more his heart, chilled and depressed by his late disappointment, was expanded and cheered with the hope of having found a friend. Melton, who professed to travel, because he knew not what to do with himself at home, till he could give more unbounded scope to his turn for some sort of expence, had not the least inclination to seek in any capital town, other society than Englishmen of the same description afforded him. There were several at Dresden, with whom he associated, and among them one with whom he had formerly been much acquainted, and who was going post to England. An immediate return to his native country was by this time become, in the opinion of Melton, a desirable circumstance, and he entered into an agreement to join this his acquaintance, and to leave Dresden three days sooner than he had originally proposed with Ellesmere; to whom he began a blunt apology, and was giving the reasons he had to change his mind. Ellesmere, who, rather felt himself released than offended, besought him to set his heart at ease in regard to him; and adjusting their account of expences, they took leave of each other with all imaginable good humour, but without the least degree of friendship. — Ellesmere reflecting with wonder on the little activity of Melton’s mind; which with every power that fortune and situation gave to acquire information, sunk into puiescent ignorance, Melton not reflecting at all. The jolly party he soon after he might have had respecting his want of politeness, and great rudeness towards Ellesmere — he passed a jovial evening, and, without going to bed, fat out on his journey by the break of the day. Thus left to find his way to Berlin alone, or in any company he liked, Ellesmere sought his French friend, with an intention of offering himself to join his party. He was directed at the hotel, where he had before enquired for him to another, where, on sending for him, D’Alonville came down, and telling Ellesmere he was with some of his countrymen, who would be a very happy if he would favor them with his company, he introduced him to the Marquis de Touranges, the Abbé de St. Remi, and two old French noblemen, who received him with that politeness for which men of their rank were so justly distinguished. The Abbé de St. Remi too, who though a priest had no illiberal prejudices, was pleased with the appearance of the young Englishman; De Touranges alone maintained a cold reserve — and while the others were engaged in conversation, seemed to suffer his mind to be entirely engrossed by thoughts of sad import, which conversation had no power to soothe.