Tales and Novels Volume VII Part 14

"Oh! star of patronage, s.h.i.+ne ever thus upon the Falconers!" cried Buckhurst, when, elevated with wine in honour of the church, he gave an account to his father at night of the success of the day.--"Oh! thou, whose influence has, for us, arrested Fortune at the top of her wheel, be ever thus propitious!--Only make me a dean. Have you not made my brother, the dunce, a colonel? and my brother, the knave, an envoy?--I only pray to be a dean--I ask not yet to be a bishop--you see I have some conscience left."

"True," said his father, laughing. "Now go to bed, Buckhurst; you may, for your fortune is up."

"Ha! my good cousin Percys, where are you now?--Education, merit, male and female, where are you now?--Planting cabbages, and presiding at a day-school: one son plodding in a pleader's office--another cast in an election for an hospital physician--a third encountering a plague in the West Indies. I give you joy!"

No wonder the commissioner exulted, for he had not only provided thus rapidly for his sons, but he had besides happy expectations for himself.--With Lord Oldborough he was now in higher favour and confidence than he had ever hoped to be. Lord Oldborough, who was a man little p.r.o.ne to promise, and who always did more than he said, had, since the marriage of his niece, thrown out a hint that he was aware of the expense it must have been to Commissioner and Mrs. Falconer to give entertainments continually, and to keep open house, as they had done this winter, for his political friends--no instance of zeal in his majesty's service, his lords.h.i.+p said, he hoped was ever lost upon him, and, if he continued in power, he trusted he should find occasion to show his grat.i.tude. This from another minister might mean nothing but to pay with words; from Lord Oldborough the commissioner justly deemed it as good as a promissory note for a lucrative place. Accordingly he put it in circulation directly among his creditors, and he no longer trembled at the expense at which he had lived and was living. Both Mrs.

Falconer and he had ever considered a good cook, and an agreeable house, as indispensably necessary to those who would rise in the world; and they laid it down as a maxim, that, if people wished to grow rich, they must begin by appearing so. Upon this plan every thing in their establishment, table, servants, equipage, dress, were far more splendid than their fortune could afford. The immediate gratification which resulted from this display, combining with their maxims of policy, encouraged the whole family to continue this desperate game. Whenever the timidity of the commissioner had started; when, pressed by his creditors, he had backed, and had wished to stop in this course of extravagance; his lady, of a more intrepid character, urged him forward, pleading that he had gone too far to recede--that the poorer they were, the more necessary to keep up the brilliant appearance of affluence. How else could her daughters, after all the sums that had been risked upon them, hope to be advantageously established? How otherwise could they preserve what her friend Lady Jane Granville so justly styled the patronage of fas.h.i.+on?

When success proved Mrs. Falconer to be right, "Now, Commissioner Falconer! Now!" How she triumphed, and how she talked! Her sons all in such favour--her daughters in such fas.h.i.+on! No party without the Miss Falconers!--Miss Falconers must sing--Miss Falconers must play--Miss Falconers must dance, or no lady of a house could feel herself happy, or could think she had done her duty--no piano, no harp could draw such crowds as the Miss Falconers. It was the ambition among the fas.h.i.+onable men to dance with the Miss Falconers, to flirt with the Miss Falconers.

"Not merely flirting, ma'am," as Mrs. Falconer said, and took proper pains should be heard, "but several serious proposals from very respectable quarters:" however, none _yet_ exactly what she could resolve to accept for the girls--she looked high for them, she owned--she thought she had a right to look high. Girls in fas.h.i.+on should not take the first offers--they should hold up their heads: why should they not aspire to rank, why not to t.i.tle, as well as to fortune?

Poor Petcalf! General Petcalf's son had been for some time, as it was well known, desperately in love with Miss Georgiana Falconer; but what chance had he now? However, he was to be _managed_: he was useful sometimes, as a partner, "to whom one may say one is engaged when a person one does not choose to dance with asks for the honour of one's hand--useful sometimes to turn over the leaves of the music-book--useful always as an attendant in public places--useful, in short, to be exhibited as a captive; for one captive leads to another conquest." And Miss Arabella Falconer, too, could boast her conquests, though n.o.body merely by looking at her would have guessed it: but she was a striking exemplification of the truth of Lady Jane Granville's maxim, that fas.h.i.+on, like Venus's girdle, can beautify any girl, let her be ever so ugly.

And now the Falconer family having risen and succeeded beyond their most sanguine hopes by a combination of lucky circ.u.mstances, and by adherence to their favourite system, we leave them fortified in their principles, and at the height of prosperity.

CHAPTER XI.

Fortune, as if she had been piqued by Mr. Percy's disdain, and jealous of his professed reliance upon the superior power of her rival, Prudence, seemed now determined to humble him and all his family, to try if she could not force him to make some of the customary sacrifices of principle to propitiate her favour.

Unsuspicious of the designs that were carrying forward against him in secret, Mr. Percy had quite forgotten his fears that his wicked relation Sir Robert Percy, and Solicitor Sharpe, might take advantage of the loss of that deed which had never been found since the night of the fire at Percy-hall. It was nearly two years afterwards that Mr. Percy received a letter from his cousin, Sir Robert, informing him that he had been advised to dispute the t.i.tle to the Percy estate, that he had the opinion of the first lawyers in England in his favour, and that he had given directions to his solicitor, Mr. Sharpe, to commence a suit to reinstate the lawful heir in the property of his ancestors.--Sir Robert Percy added something about his reluctance to go to law, and a vast deal about candour, justice, and family friends.h.i.+p, which it would be needless and unreasonable to repeat.

Fresh search was now made for the lost deed, but in vain; and in vain Rosamond reproached herself with having betrayed the secret of that loss to the revengeful attorney.--The ensuing post brought notice from Mr.

Sharpe that proceedings were commenced.--In Sir Robert's letter, though not in the attorney's, there was obviously left an opening for an offer to compromise; this was done either with intent to lure Mr. Percy on to make an offer, which might afterwards appear against him, or it was done in the hope that, intimidated by the fear of an expensive and hazardous suit, Mr. Percy might give up half his estate, to secure the quiet possession of the remainder. But they knew little of Mr. Percy who argued in this manner: he was neither to be lured nor intimidated from his right--all compromise, "all terms of commerce he disdained." He sent no answer, but prepared to make a vigorous defence. For this purpose he wrote to his son Alfred, desiring him to spare no pains or expense, to engage the best counsel, and to put them in full possession of the cause. Alfred regretted that he was not of sufficient standing at the bar to take the lead in conducting his father's cause: he, however, prepared all the doc.u.ments with great care and ability. From time to time, as the business went on, he wrote to his father in good spirits, saying that he had excellent hopes they should succeed, notwithstanding the unfortunate loss of the deed; that the more he considered the case, the more clearly the justice of their cause and the solidity of their right appeared. Alas! Alfred showed himself to be but a young lawyer, in depending so much upon right and justice, while a point of law was against him. It is unnecessary, and would be equally tedious and unintelligible to most readers, to dwell upon the details of this suit.

Contrary to the usual complaints of the law's delay, this cause went through the courts in a short time, because Mr. Percy did not make use of any subterfuge to protract the business. A decree was given in favour of Sir Robert Percy, and he became the legal possessor of the great Percy estate in Hamps.h.i.+re, which had been so long the object of his machinations.

Thus, at one stroke, the Percy family fell from the station and affluence which they had so long, and, in the opinion of all who knew them, so well enjoyed. Great was the regret among the higher cla.s.ses, and great, indeed, the lamentations of the poor in the neighbourhood, when the decree was made known. It seemed as if the change in their situation was deplored as a general misfortune, and as if it were felt by all more than by the sufferers themselves, who were never seen to give way to weak complaints, or heard to utter an invective against their adversary. This magnanimity increased the public sympathy, and pity for them was soon converted into indignation against Sir Robert Percy. Naturally insolent, and now elated with success, he wrote post after post to express his impatience to come and take possession of his estate, and to hasten the departure of his relations from the family seat. This was as cruel as it was unnecessary, for from the moment when they learnt the event of the trial, they had been occupied with the preparations for their departure; for the resignation of all the conveniences and luxuries they possessed, all the pleasures a.s.sociated with the idea of home; for parting with all the animate and inanimate objects to which they had long and early habits of affection and attachment. This family had never been proud in prosperity, nor were they abject in adversity: they submitted with fort.i.tude to their fate; yet they could not, without regret, leave the place where they had spent so many happy years.

It had been settled that the improvements which Mr. Percy had made on the estate, the expense of the buildings and furniture at Percy-hall, of which a valuation had been made, should be taken in lieu of all arrears of rent to which Sir Robert might lay claim. In consequence of this award, Mr. Percy and his family were anxious to leave every thing about the house and place in perfect order, that they might fulfil punctually their part of the agreement. The evening before they were to quit Percy-hall, they went into every room, to take a review of the whole.

The house was peculiarly convenient and well arranged. Mr. Percy had spared nothing to render it in every respect agreeable, not only to his guests, but to his family, to make his children happy in their home. His daughters' apartments he had fitted up for them in the neatest manner, and they had taken pleasure in ornamenting them with their own work and drawings. They felt very melancholy the evening they were to take leave of these for ever. They took down some of their drawings, and all the little trophies preserved from childhood, memorials of early ingenuity or taste, which could be of no use or value to any one except to themselves; every thing else they agreed to leave as usual, to show how kind their father had been to them--a sentiment well suited to their good and innocent minds. They opened their writing-tables and their drawing-boxes for the last time; for the last time they put fresh flowers into their flower-pots, and, with a sigh, left their little apartments.

All the family then went out to walk in the park and through the shrubberies. It was a delightful summer's evening; the birds were singing--"Caring little," as Rosamond said, "for our going away." The sun was just setting, and they thought they had never seen the place look so beautiful. Indeed Mr. and Mrs. Percy had, for many years, delighted in cultivating the natural beauties of this picturesque situation, and their improvements were now beginning to appear to advantage. But they were never to enjoy the success of their labours!

The old steward followed the family in this walk. He stopped every now and then to deplore over each fine tree or shrub as they pa.s.sed, and could scarcely refrain from bursting into invectives against _him_ that was coming after them into possession.

"The whole country cries shame upon the villain," John began; but Mr.

Percy, with a smile, stopped him.

"Let us bear our misfortunes, John, with a good grace; let us be thankful for the happiness which we have enjoyed, and submit ourselves to the will of Providence. Without any hypocrisy or affected resignation, I say, at this instant, what with my whole heart I feel, that I submit, without repining, to the will of G.o.d, and firmly believe that all is for the best."

"And so I strive to do," said John. "But only, I say, if it had pleased G.o.d to order it otherwise, it's a pity the wicked should come _just_ after us to enjoy themselves, when they have robbed us of all."

"Not of all," said Mr. Percy.

"What is it they have not robbed us of?" cried John: "not a thing but they must have from us."

"No; the best of all things we keep for ourselves--it cannot be taken from us--a good conscience."

"Worth all the rest--that's true," said John; "and that is what he will never have who is coming here to-morrow--never--never! They say he don't sleep at nights. But I'll say no more about him, only--he's not a good man."

"I am sure, John, you are not a good courtier," said Mrs. Percy, smiling: "you ought to prepare to pay your court to your new master."

"_My_ new master!" cried John, growing red: "the longest day ever I live, I'll never have a new master! All that I have in the world came from you, and I'll never have another master. Sure you will let me follow you? I will be no trouble: though but little, may be I can do something still. Surely, madam--surely, sir--young ladies, you'll speak for me--I shall be let to follow the fortunes of the family, and go along with you into _banishment_."

"My good John," said Mr. Percy, "since you desire to follow us into _banishment_, as you call it, you shall; and as long as we have any thing upon earth, you shall never want. You must stay here to-morrow, after we are gone, to give up possession." (John could not stand this, but turned away to hide his face.) "When your business is done,"

continued Mr. Percy, "you may set out and follow us as soon as you please."

"I thank you, sir, kindly," said John, with a most grateful bow, that took in all the family, "that's new life to me."

He said not a word more during the rest of the walk, except just as he pa.s.sed near the beach where the s.h.i.+p was wrecked, he exclaimed, "There was the first beginning of all our misfortune: who would have thought that when we gave them shelter we should be turned out so soon ourselves? 'twas that drunken rascal of a Dutch carpenter was the cause of all!"

The next morning the whole family set out in an open carriage, which had been made for the purpose of carrying as many of the young people as possible upon excursions of pleasure. It was a large sociable, which they used to call their _caravan_.

At the great gate of the park old John stopped the carriage, and leaning over to his master, whispered, "I beg your pardon, sir, but G.o.d bless you, and don't drive through the village: if you please, take the back road; for I've just learned that _he_ is on the great road, and as near hand as the turn at the school-house, and they say he wants to be driving in his coach and four through the village as you are all going out--now I wouldn't for any thing he had that triumph over us."

"Thank you, good John," said Mr. Percy, "but such triumphs cannot mortify us."

Poor John reluctantly opened the gate and let the carriage pa.s.s--they drove on--they cast a lingering look behind as they quitted the park--

--"Must I then leave thee, Paradise?"--

As they pa.s.sed through the village the poor people came out of their houses to take leave of their excellent landlord; they flocked round the carriage, and hung upon it till it stopped, and then, with one voice, they poured forth praises, and blessings, and prayers for better days.

Just at this moment Sir Robert Percy made his appearance. His equipage was splendid; his coachman drove his four fine horses down the street, the middle of which was cleared in an instant. The crowd gazed at the show as it pa.s.sed--Sir Robert gave a signal to his coachman to drive slower, that he might longer enjoy the triumph--he put his head out of the coach window, but no one cried, "G.o.d bless him!" His insolence was obviously mortified as he pa.s.sed the Percy family, for Mr. Percy bowed with an air of dignity and cheerfulness which seemed to say, "My fortune is yours--but I am still myself." Some of the spectators clapped their hands, and some wept.

Mr. Percy seemed to have prepared his mind for every circ.u.mstance of his departure, and to be perfectly composed, or at least master of his feelings; but a small incident, which had not been foreseen, suddenly moved him almost to tears: as they crossed the bridge, which was at the farthest end of the village, they heard the m.u.f.fled bells of the church toll as if for a public calamity [Footnote: On Mr. Morris's departure from Piercefield the same circ.u.mstance happened.]. Instantly recollecting the resentment to which these poor people were exposing themselves, by this mark of their affection and regret, Mr. Percy went by a short path to the church as quickly as possible, and had the bells unm.u.f.fled.

CHAPTER XII.

Mr. Percy fortunately possessed, independently of the Percy estate, a farm worth about seven or eight hundred a year, which he had purchased with part of his wife's fortune; on which he had built a lodge, that he had intended for the future residence of one of his sons. _The Hills_ was the name of this lodge, to which all the family now retired.

Though it was in the same county with Percy-hall, Clermont-park, Falconer-court, Hungerford-castle, and within reach of several other gentlemen's seats, yet from its being in a hilly part of the country, through which no regular road had been made, it was little frequented, and gave the idea not only of complete retirement, but of remoteness.

Though a lonely situation, it was, however, a beautiful one. The house stood on the brow of a hill, and looked into a deep glen, through the steep descent of which ran a clear and copious rivulet rolling over a stony bed; the rocks were covered with mountain flowers, and wild shrubs--But nothing is more tiresome than a picture in prose: we shall, therefore, beg our readers to recall to their imagination some of the views they may have seen in Wales, and they will probably have a better idea of this place than any that we could give by the most laboured description, amplified with all the epithets in the English language.

The house at the Hills, though finished, was yet but scantily furnished, and was so small that it could hardly hold the family, who were now obliged to take refuge in it. However, they were well disposed to accommodate each other: they had habits of order, and had so little accustomed themselves to be waited upon, that this sudden change in their fortune and way of life did not appear terrible, as it would to many in the same rank. Undoubtedly they felt the loss of real conveniences, but they were not tormented with ideal wants, or with the pangs of mortified vanity. Evils they had to bear, but they were not the most dreadful of all evils--those of the imagination.

Mr. Percy, to whom his whole family looked for counsel and support, now showed all the energy and decision of his character. What he knew must be done sooner or later he did decidedly at first. The superfluities to which his family had been accustomed, were instantly abandoned.

The great torment of decayed gentry is the remembrance of their former station, and a weak desire still to appear what their fortune no longer allows them to be. This folly Mr. Percy had not to combat in his family, where all were eager to resign even more of their own comforts than the occasion required. It was the object now for the family who were at home to live as frugally as possible, that they might save as much of their small income as they could, to a.s.sist and forward the sons in their professions.

The eldest son, G.o.dfrey, could not yet have heard of the change in his father's fortune, and in his own expectations; but from a pa.s.sage in his last letter, it was evident that he had some idea of the possibility of such a reverse, and that he was preparing himself to live with economy. From Alfred and Erasmus Mr. Percy had at this trying time the satisfaction of receiving at once the kindest and the most manly letters, containing strong expressions of grat.i.tude to their father for having given them such an education as would enable them, notwithstanding the loss of hereditary fortune, to become independent and respectable. What would have been the difference of their fate and of their feelings, had they been suffered to grow up into mere idle lounging gentlemen, or four-in-hand coachmen! In different words, but with the same spirit, both brothers declared that this change in the circ.u.mstances of their family did not depress their minds, but, on the contrary, gave them new and powerful motives for exertion. It seemed to be the first wish of their souls to fulfil the fond hopes and predictions of their father, and to make some return for the care their parents had taken of their education.

Their father, pleased by the sanguine hopes and ardent spirit expressed in their letters, was, however, sensible that a considerable time must elapse before they could make any thing by law or medicine. They were as yet only in the outset of their professions, the difficult beginning, when men must toil often without reward, be subject to crosses and losses, and rebukes and rebuffs, when their rivals push them back, and when they want the a.s.sistance of friends to help them forward, whilst with scarcely the means to live they must appear like gentlemen.

Besides the faithful steward, two servants, who were much attached to the family, accompanied them to their retirement. One was Mrs. Harte, who had lived with Mrs. Percy above thirty years; and who, from being a housekeeper with handsome wages and plenary power over a numerous household at Percy-hall, now served with increased zeal at the Hills, doing a great part of the work of the house herself, with the a.s.sistance only of a stout country girl newly hired, whose awkwardness and ignorance, or, as Mrs. Harte expressed it, whose _comical_ ways, she bore with a patience that cost her more than all the rest. The other servant who followed the altered fortunes of the Percy family was a young man of the name of Johnson, whom Mr. Percy had bred up from a boy, and who was so creditable a servant that he could readily have obtained a place with high wages in any opulent family, either in the country or in London; but he chose to abide by his master, who could now only afford to give him very little. Indeed, Mr. Percy would not have kept any man-servant in his present circ.u.mstances, but out of regard for this young man, who seemed miserable at the thoughts of leaving him, and who undertook to make himself useful in the farm as well as in the house.