Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete
that a reason why you are to lie down inactive; why you are to leave the
crew to battle for the helm? How much may individuals by the diffusion
of their own thoughts in letters or in action regulate the order of vast
events,--now prevent, now soften, now animate, now guide! And is a man
to whom Providence and Fortune have imparted such prerogatives to stand
aloof, because he can neither foresee the Future nor create Perfection?
And you talk of no certain and definite goal! How know we that there is
a certain and definite goal, even in heaven? How know we that excellence
may not be illimitable? Enough that we improve, that we proceed. Seeing
in the great design of earth that benevolence is an attribute of the
Designer, let us leave the rest to Posterity and to God."
"You have disturbed many of my theories," said Maltravers, candidly;
"and I will reflect on our conversation; but, after all, is every man to
aspire to influence others; to throw his opinion into the great scales
in which human destinies are weighed? Private life is not criminal. It
is no virtue to write a book, or to make a speech. Perhaps, I should
be as well engaged in returning to my country village, looking at my
schools, and wrangling with the parish overseers--"
"Ah," interrupted the Frenchman, laughing; "if I have driven you to this
point, I will go no further. Every state of life has its duties; every
man must be himself the judge of what he is most fit for. It is quite
enough that he desires to be active, and labours to be useful; that he
acknowledges the precept, 'Never to be weary in well-doing.' The divine
appetite once fostered, let it select its own food. But the man who,
after fair trial of his capacities, and with all opportunity for their
full development before him, is convinced that he has faculties which
private life cannot wholly absorb, must not repine that Human Nature
is not perfect, when he refuses even to exercise the gifts he himself
possesses."
Now these arguments have been very tedious; in some places they have
been old and trite; in others they may appear too much to appertain to
the abstract theory of first principles. Yet from such arguments, _pro_
and _con_, unless I greatly mistake, are to be derived corollaries
equally practical and sublime,--the virtue of Action, the obligations of
Genius, and the philosophy that teaches us to confide in the destinies,
and labour in the service, of mankind.
CHAPTER VI.
I'LL tell you presently her very picture;
Stay--yes, it is so--Lelia.
_The Captain_, Act V. sc. I.
MALTRAVERS had not shrunk into a system of false philosophy from wayward
and sickly dreams, from resolute self-delusion; on the contrary, his
errors rested on his convictions: the convictions disturbed, the errors
were rudely shaken.
But when his mind began restlessly to turn once more towards the duties
of active life; when he recalled all the former drudgeries and toils
of political conflict, or the wearing fatigues of literature, with its
small enmities, its false friendships, and its meagre and capricious
rewards,--ah, then, indeed, he shrank in dismay from the thoughts of
the solitude at home! No lips to console in dejection, no heart to
sympathize in triumph, no love within to counterbalance the hate
without,--and the best of man, his household affections, left to wither
away, or to waste themselves on ideal images, or melancholy remembrance.
It may, indeed, be generally remarked (contrary to a common notion),
that the men who are most happy at home are the most active abroad. The
animal spirits are necessary to healthful action; and dejection and the
sense of solitude will turn the stoutest into dreamers. The hermit is
the antipodes of the citizen; and no gods animate and inspire us like
the Lares.
One evening, after an absence from Paris of nearly a fortnight, at De
Montaigne's villa, in the neighbourhood of St. Cloud, Maltravers, who,
though he no longer practised the art, was not less fond than heretofore
of music, was seated in Madame de Ventadour's box at the Italian Opera;
and Valerie, who was above all the woman's jealousy of beauty, was
expatiating with great warmth of eulogium upon the charms of a young
English lady whom she had met at Lady G-----'s the preceding evening.
"She is just my beau-ideal of the true English beauty," said Valerie:
"it is not only the exquisite fairness of the complexion, nor the eyes
so purely blue,--which the dark lashes relieve from the coldness common
to the light eyes of the Scotch and German,--that are so beautifully
national, but the simplicity of manner, the unconsciousness of
admiration, the mingled modesty and sense of the expression. No, I have
seen women more beautiful, but I never saw one more lovely: you are
silent; I expected some burst of patriotism in return for my compliment
to your countrywoman!"
"But I am so absorbed in that wonderful Pasta--"
"You are no such thing; your thoughts are far away. But can you tell
me anything about my fair stranger and her friends? In the first place,
there is a Lord Doltimore, whom I knew before--you need say nothing
about him; in the next there is his new married bride, handsome,
dark--but you are not well!"
"It was the draught from the door; go on, I beseech you, the young lady,
the friend, her name?"
"Her name I do not remember; but she was engaged to be married to one of
your statesmen, Lord Vargrave; the marriage is broken off--I know not
if that be the cause of a certain melancholy in her countenance,--a
melancholy I am sure not natural to its Hebe-like expression. But who
have just entered the opposite box? Ah, Mr. Maltravers, do look, there
is the beautiful English girl!"
And Maltravers raised his eyes, and once more beheld the countenance of
Evelyn Cameron!
BOOK VII.
Words of dark import gave suspicion birth.--POTTER.
CHAPTER I.
_Luce_. Is the wind there?
That makes for me.
_Isab_. Come, I forget a business.
_Wit without Money_.
LORD VARGRAVE'S travelling-carriage was at his door, and he himself was
putting on his greatcoat in his library, when Lord Saxingham entered.
"What! you are going into the country?"
"Yes; I wrote you word,--to see Lisle Court."
"Ay, true; I had forgot. Somehow or other my memory is not so good as it
was. But, let me see, Lisle Court is in -----shire. Why, you will pass
within ten miles of C-----."
"C-----! Shall I? I am not much versed in the geography of
England,--never learned it at school. As for Poland, Kamschatka, Mexico,
Madagascar, or any other place as to which knowledge would be _useful_,
I have every inch of the way at my finger's end. But _a propos_ of
C-----, it is the town in which my late uncle made his fortune."
"Ah, so it is. I recollect you were to have stood for C-----, but gave
it up to Staunch; very handsome in you. Have you any interest there
still?"
"I think my ward has some tenants,--a street or two,--one called Richard
Street, and the other Templeton Place. I had intended some weeks ago
to have gone down there, and seen what interest was still left to our
family; but Staunch himself told me that C----- was a sure card."
"So he thought; but he has been with me this morning in great alarm: he
now thinks he shall be thrown out. A Mr. Winsley, who has a great deal
of interest there, and was a supporter of his, hangs back on account of
the ----- question. This is unlucky, as Staunch is quite with _us_; and
if he were to rat now it would be most unfortunate."
"Winsley! Winsley!--my poor uncle's right-hand man. A great
brewer,--always chairman of the Templeton Committee. I know the name,
though I never saw the man."
"If you could take C----- in your way?"
"To be sure. Staunch must not be lost. We cannot throw away a single
vote, much more one of such weight,--eighteen stone at the least! I'll
stop at C----- on pretence of seeing after my ward's houses, and have
a quiet conference with Mr. Winsley. Hem! Peers must not interfere in
elections, eh? Well, good-by: take care of yourself. I shall be back in
a week, I hope,--perhaps less."
In a minute more Lord Vargrave and Mr. George Frederick Augustus Howard,
a slim young gentleman of high birth and connections, but who, having,
as a portionless cadet, his own way to make in the world, condescended
to be his lordship's private secretary, were rattling over the streets
the first stage to C-----.
It was late at night when Lord Vargrave arrived at the head inn of that
grave and respectable cathedral city, in which once Richard Templeton,
Esq.,--saint, banker, and politician,--had exercised his dictatorial
sway. "Sic transit gloria mundi!" As he warmed his hands by the fire in
the large wainscoted apartment into which he was shown, his eye met
a full length engraving of his uncle, with a roll of papers in his
hand,--meant for a parliamentary bill for the turnpike trusts in the
neighbourhood of C-----. The sight brought back his recollections
of that pious and saturnine relation, and insensibly the minister's
thoughts flew to his death-bed, and to the strange secret which in that
last hour he had revealed to Lumley,--a secret which had done much in
deepening Lord Vargrave's contempt for the forms and conventionalities
of decorous life. And here it may be mentioned--though in the course
of this volume a penetrating reader may have guessed as much--that,
whatever that secret, it did not refer expressly or exclusively to the
late lord's singular and ill-assorted marriage. Upon that point much was
still left obscure to arouse Lumley's curiosity, had he been a man whose
curiosity was very vivacious. But on this he felt but little interest.
He knew enough to believe that no further information could benefit
himself personally; why should he trouble his head with what never would
fill his pockets?
An audible yawn from the slim secretary roused Lord Vargrave from his
revery.
"I envy you, my young friend," said he, good-humouredly. "It is a
pleasure we lose as we grow older,--that of being sleepy. However, 'to
bed,' as Lady Macbeth says. Faith, I don't wonder the poor devil of a
thane was slow in going to bed with such a tigress. Good-night to you."
CHAPTER II.
MA fortune va prendre une face nouvelle.*
RACINE. _Androm_., Act i. sc. 1.
* "My fortune is about to take a turn."
THE next morning Vargrave inquired the way to Mr. Winsley's, and walked
alone to the house of the brewer. The slim secretary went to inspect the
cathedral.
Mr. Winsley was a little, thickset man, with a civil but blunt
electioneering manner. He started when he heard Lord Vargrave's name,
and bowed with great stiffness. Vargrave saw at a glance that there was
some cause of grudge in the mind of the worthy man; nor did Mr. Winsley
long hesitate before he cleansed his bosom of its perilous stuff.
"This is an unexpected honour, my lord: I don't know how to account for
it."
"Why, Mr. Winsley, your friendship with my late uncle can, perhaps,
sufficiently explain and apologize for a visit from a nephew sincerely
attached to his memory."
"Humph! I certainly did do all in my power to promote Mr. Templeton's
interests. No man, I may say, did more; and yet I don't think it was
much thought of the moment he turned his back upon the electors of
C-----. Not that I bear any malice; I am well to do, and value no man's
favour,--no man's, my lord!"
"You amaze me! I always heard my poor uncle speak of you in the highest
terms."
"Oh, well, it don't signify; pray say no more of it. Can I offer your
lordship a glass of wine?"
"No, I am much obliged to you; but we really must set this little matter
right. You know that after his marriage my uncle never revisited C-----;