Tales and Novels Volume III Part 35

"My friend, Dr. X----," said he, "divides mankind into three cla.s.ses: those who learn from the experience of others--they are happy men; those who learn from their own experience--they are wise men; and, lastly, those who learn neither from their own nor from other people's experience--they are fools. This cla.s.s is by far the largest. I am content," continued Clarence, "to be in the middle cla.s.s--perhaps you will say because I cannot be in the first: however, were it in my power to choose my own character, I should, forgive me the seeming vanity of the speech, still be content to remain in my present station upon this principle--the characters of those who are taught by their own experience must be progressive in knowledge and virtue. Those who learn from the experience of others may become stationary, because they must depend for their progress on the experiments that we brave volunteers, at whose expense they are to live and learn, are pleased to try. There may be much safety in thus snugly fighting, or rather seeing the battle of life, behind the broad shield of a stouter warrior; yet it seems to me to be rather an ignominious than an enviable situation.

"Our friend, Dr. X----, would laugh at my insisting upon being amongst the cla.s.s of learners by their own experience. He would ask me, whether it be the ultimate end of my philosophy to try experiments, or to be happy. And what answer should I make? I have none ready. Common sense stares me in the face, and my feelings, even at this instant, alas!

confute my system. I shall pay too dear yet for some of my experiments.

'Sois grand homme, et sois malheureux,' is, I am afraid, the law of nature, or rather the decree of the world. Your ladyship will not read this without a smile; for you will immediately infer, that I think myself a great man; and as I detest hypocrisy yet more than vanity, I shall not deny the charge. At all events, I feel that I am at present--however gaily I talk of it--in as fair a way to be unhappy for life, as if I were, in good earnest, the greatest man in Europe.

"Your ladyship's most respectful admirer, and sincere friend,

"CLARENCE HERVEY."

"P. S.--Is there any hope that your friend, Miss Portman, may spend the winter in town?"

Though Lady Delacour had been much fatigued by the exertion of her spirits during the day, she sat up at night to write to Mr. Hervey. Her love and grat.i.tude to Miss Portman interested her most warmly for her happiness, and she was persuaded that the most effectual way to secure it would be to promote her union with her _first love_. Lady Delacour, who had also the best opinion of Clarence Hervey, and the most sincere friendship for him, thought she was likewise acting highly for his interest; and she felt that she had some merit in at once parting with him from the train of her admirers, and urging him to become a dull, married man. Besides these generous motives, she was, perhaps, a little influenced by jealousy of the superior power which Lady Anne Percival had in so short a time acquired over Belinda's mind. "Strange," thought she, "if love and I be not a match for Lady Anne Percival and reason!"

To do Lady Delacour justice, it must be observed, that she took the utmost care in her letter not to _commit_ her friend; she wrote with all the delicate address of which she was mistress. She began by rallying her correspondent on his indulging himself so charmingly in _the melancholy of genius_; and she prescribed as a cure to her _malheureux imaginaire_, as she called him, those joys of domestic life which he so well knew how to paint.

"_Precepte commence, exemple acheve_," said her ladyship. "You will never see me _la femme comme il y en a peu_, till I see you _le bon mari_. Belinda Portman has this day returned to me from Oakly-park, fresh, blooming, wise, and gay, as country air, flattery, philosophy, and love can make her. It seems that she has had full employment for her head and heart. Mr. Percival and Lady Anne, by right of science and reason, have taken possession of the head, and a Mr. Vincent, their ci-devant ward and declared favourite, has laid close siege to the heart, of which he is in a fair way, I think, to take possession, by the right of conquest. As far as I can understand--for I have not yet seen _le futur_--he deserves my Belinda; for besides being as handsome as any hero of romance, ancient or modern, he has a soul in which neither spot nor blemish can be found, except the amiable weakness of being desperately in love--a weakness which we ladies are apt to prefer to the most philosophic stoicism: apropos of philosophy--we may presume, that notwithstanding Mr. V---- is a creole, he has been bred up by his guardian in the cla.s.s of men who learn by the experience of others. As such, according to your system, he has a right to expect to be a _happy man_, has not he? According to Mrs. Stanhope's system, I am sure that he has: for his thousands and tens of thousands, as I am credibly informed, pa.s.s the comprehension of the numeration table.

"But these will weigh not a grain in the estimation of her truly disinterested and n.o.ble-minded niece. Mrs. Stanhope knows nothing of Mr. Vincent's proposals; and it is well for him she does not, for her worldly good word would mar the whole. Not so as to Lady Anne and Mr.

Percival's approbation--their opinion is all in all with my friend. How they have contrived it, I know not, but they have gained over Belinda's mind a degree of power almost equal to parental authority; so you may guess that the doubtful beam will not much longer nod from side to side: indeed it seems to me scarcely necessary to throw in the sword of authority to turn the scale.

"If you can persuade yourself to finish your picturesque tour before the ides of the charming month of November, do, my dear Clarence! make haste and come back to us in time for Belinda's wedding--and do not forget my commission about the Dorsetshire angel; bring me one in your right hand with a gold ring upon her taper finger--so help you, Cupid! or never more expect a smile

"From your sincere friend and admirer,

"T.C.H. DELACOUR."

"P.S. Observe, my good sir, that I am not in such a desperate hurry to congratulate you on your marriage, that I should be satisfied with an ordinary Mrs. Hervey: so do not, under pretence of obliging me, or for any other consideration, yoke yourself to some damsel that you will be ashamed to produce. For one woman worthy to be Clarence Hervey's wife, I have seen, at a moderate computation, a hundred fit to be his mistress.

If he should, on this subject, mistake the _fitness of things or of persons_, he would indeed be _in a fair way to be unhappy for life_.

"The substance of a lady's letter, it has been said, always is comprised in the postscript."

After Lady Delacour had finished this letter, which she had no doubt would bring Clarence immediately to town, she left it with Marriott, with orders to have it sent by the next post. Much fatigued, she then retired to rest, and was not visible the next day till near dinner-time.

When Miss Portman returned the packet of Mr. Hervey's letters, her ladyship was dissatisfied with the measured terms of Belinda's approbation, and she said, with a sarcastic smile, "So, they have made a complete philosopher of you at Oakly-park! You are perfect in the first lesson--not to admire. And is the torch of Cupid to be extinguished on the altar of Reason?"

"Rather to be lighted there, if possible," said Belinda; and she endeavoured to turn the conversation to what she thought must be more immediately interesting to Lady Delacour--her own health. She a.s.sured her, with perfect truth, that she was at present more intent upon her situation than upon Cupid or his torch.

"I believe you, my generous Belinda!" said Lady Delacour; "and for that very reason I am interested in your affairs, I am afraid, even to the verge of impertinence. May I ask why this _preux chevalier_ of yours did not attend you, or follow you to town?"

"Mr. Vincent?--He knew that I came to attend your ladyship. I told him that you had been confined by a nervous fever, and that it would be impossible for me to see him at present; but I promised, when you could spare me, to return to Oakly-park."

Lady Delacour sighed, and opened Clarence Hervey's letters one after another, looking over them without seeming well to know what she was about. Lord Delacour came into the room whilst these letters were still in her hand. He had been absent since the preceding morning, and he now seemed as if he were just come home, much fatigued. He began in a tone of great anxiety to inquire after Lady Delacour's health. She was piqued at his having left home at such a time, and, merely bowing her head to him, she went on reading. His eyes glanced upon the letters which she held in her hand; and when he saw the well-known writing of Clarence Hervey, his manner immediately altered, and, stammering out some common-place phrases, he threw himself into an arm-chair by the fireside, protesting that he was tired to death--that he was half dead--that he had been in a post-chaise for three hours, which he hated--had ridden fifty miles since yesterday; and he muttered that he was a fool for his pains--an observation which, though it reached her ladyship's ears, she did not think proper to contradict.

His lordship had then recourse to his watch, his never-failing friend in need, which he always pulled out with a particular jerk when he was vexed.

"It is time for me to be gone--I shall be late at Studley's."

"You dine with his lordship then?" said Lady Delacour, in a careless tone.

"Yes; and his good burgundy, I hope, will wind me up again," said he, stretching himself, "for I am quite down."

"Quite down? Then we may conclude that my friend Mrs. Luttridge is not yet come to _Rantipole_. Rantipole, my dear," continued Lady Delacour, turning to Miss Portman, "is the name of Harriot Freke's villa in Kent.

However strange it may sound to your ears and mine, I can a.s.sure you the name has _made fortune_ amongst a certain description of wits. And candour must allow that, if not elegant, it is appropriate; it gives a just idea of the manners and way of life of the place, for every thing at Rantipole is rantipole. But I am really concerned, my lord, you should have ridden yourself down in this way for nothing. Why did not you get better intelligence before you set out? I am afraid you feel the loss of Champfort. Why did not you contrive to learn for certain, my dear good lord, whether _the Luttridge_ was at Rantipole, before you set out on this wild goose chase?"

"My dear good lady," replied Lord Delacour, a.s.suming a degree of spirit which startled her as much as it became him, "why do you not get better intelligence before you suspect me of being a brute and a liar? Did not I promise you yesterday, that I would break with _the Luttridge_, as you call her? and how could you imagine that the instant afterwards, just at the time I was wrung to the soul, as you know I was--how could you imagine I would leave you to go to Rantipole, or to any woman upon earth?"

"Oh, my lord! I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon a thousand times,"

cried Lady Delacour, rising with much emotion; and, going towards him with a sudden impulse, she kissed his forehead.

"And so you ought to beg my pardon," said Lord Delacour, in a faltering voice, but without moving his posture.

"You will acknowledge you left me, however, my lord? That is clear."

"Left you! Yes, so I did; to ride all over the country in search of a house that would suit you. For what else did you think I _could_ leave you at such a time as this?"

Lady Delacour again stooped, and leaned her arm upon his shoulder.

"I wish to Heaven, my dear," said his lordship, shrinking as he put away her hand, which still held Clarence Hervey's letters, "I wish to Heaven, my dear, you would not hold those abominable perfumed papers just under my very nose. You know I cannot stand perfumes."

"Are they perfumed? Ay; so every thing is that I keep in that cabinet of curiosities. Thank you, my dear Miss Portman," said her ladyship, as Belinda rose to take the letters from her hand. "Will you have the goodness to put them back into their cabinet, if you can endure to touch them, if the perfume has not overcome you as well as my lord? After all, it is only ottar of roses, to which few people's olfactory nerves have an antipathy."

"I have the honour to be one of the few," said his lordship, rising from his seat with so sudden a motion as to displace Lady Delacour's arm which leaned upon him. "For my part," continued he, taking down one of the Argand lamps from the chimney-piece, and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g it, "I would rather a hundred to one snuff up the oil of this cursed lamp."

Whilst his lordship applied himself to tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the lamp with great earnestness, Lady Delacour negligently walked away to the farthest end of the room, where stood the cabinet, which Belinda was trying to unlock.

"Stay, my love; it has a secret lock, which I alone can manage."

"Oh, my dear Lady Delacour!" whispered Belinda, holding her hand as she gave her the key, "I never can love or esteem you if you use Lord Delacour ill now."

"Ill now? ill now? This lock is spoilt, I do believe," said she aloud.

"Nay, you understand me, Lady Delacour! You see what is pa.s.sing in his mind."

"To be sure: I am not a fool, though he is. I see he is jealous, though he has had such _d.a.m.ning proof_ that all's right--the man's a fool, that's all. Are you sure this is the key I gave you, my dear?"

"And can you think him a fool," pursued Belinda, in a still more earnest whisper, "for being more jealous of your mind than of your person? Fools have seldom so much penetration, or so much delicacy."

"But, Lord! what would you have me do? what would you have me say? That Lord Delacour writes better letters than these?"

"Oh, no! but show him these letters, and you will do justice to him, to yourself, to Cla----, to every body."

"I am sure I should be happy to do justice to _every body_."

"Then pray do this very instant, my dearest Lady Delacour! and I shall love you for it all my life."

"Done!--for who can withstand that offer?--Done!" said her ladyship.

Then turning to Lord Delacour, "My lord, will you come here and tell us what can be the matter with this lock?"