Nothing gave him more mortification, than to find that his mother was not satisfied with his conduct in regard to Mr Darby; and would not be persuaded that it was the affluence of his opposers, and not his doubts about the cause, that prevented his engaging in it. Mr Woodford, taking advantage of the faith his sister reposed in him as understanding business, had so harassed her with representations of Orlando’s neglect, the inexperience of Carr, and the want of skill in the counsel he employed, that Mrs Somerive now often pressed him to leave the management of the whole to his uncle, and to withdraw it from Carr; and wearied by these importunities, and by the delays which the adverse party seemed determined still to contrive, Orlando was sometimes half tempted to give up the pursuit, and, with the little money he yet had left, to retire to some remote village, where, wholly unknown, he might work at any certain, though laborious business, for the support of his wife and child: – but, when he saw the tears that his mother shed in speaking to him of his brother Philip, who had entirely deserted his family, after having, as far as he could, undone it, he could not determine to plunge her into equal, perhaps greater uneasiness on his account; and he then resolved rather to suffer any pain himself, than to fail in those duties which he felt he ought to fulfil.
It was in one of the most melancholy moods, which the increasing difficulties of his situation inspired, that Orlando, sitting alone in the little dining-room of his lodgings, when Monimia’s indisposition confined her to her bed, that he composed a little ode to Poverty, which he had hardly put upon paper, when Carr came in, to whom he carelessly shewed it. Carr, who had a taste for poetry, desired a copy of it; to which Orlando replied, ‘that he was too idle to copy it, but that he might have the original, for he should himself perhaps never look at it again.’ Carr put it into his pocket, and, asking ‘if he might do what he would with it?’ Orlando answered, ‘Yes,’ and thought no more about it.
Carr had often told Orlando, as they talked over his situation together, ‘that he had literary talents, which might be employed to advantage;’ and he said, ‘he should get acquainted with some of the writers of the day, who were the most esteemed, or at least the most fashionable, who would help him into notice.’
‘Nay,’ said Orlando, ‘if what I write will not help me into notice, I am afraid, my friend, the trade of authorship, which will not do without recommendation, will be but little worth following.’
‘It is not certainly,’ replied his friend, ‘the very best trade that can be followed in any way, but yet it is not so despicable as you suppose: – for example, if you could write a play now, and get it received by the managers; and if it should be successful . . .’
‘Dear Carr,’ cried Orlando, ‘how many ifs are here! – I have no dramatic talents; nor, if I had, do I know one of the managers; or could I conquer, by dint of attendance, the difficulties which, I have heard you say, they throw in the way of authors – I should probably not be successful.’
‘And yet,’ said Carr, ‘there have been very successful authors, who have not the natural turn of poetry which you seem to me to have; indeed, who have none; but who, by bringing together a few scenes without any plot, a scattering of equivocal expressions, and some songs (which, being set to pretty music, we do not discover are not even rhyme), have really had wonderful success; and those who have succeeded once, get into fashion, and succeed in a second piece, because they have done so in the first.’
‘They must, however,’ said Orlando, ‘have more genius than you are willing to allow them.’
‘You shall judge, if you will,’ said Carr, ‘of them, as far as conversation will enable you to judge. – A relation of mine is a constant attendant at the conversations of one of our celebrated authoresses – I have sometimes gone thither with him, and have been often invited to go, since my first introduction, either with him, alone, or with any literary friend. The lady is never so well pleased as when her room is crowded with men, who either are, or fancy they are men of genius. She professes to dote upon, to adore genius in our sex; though, in her own, she will hardly allow it to any body but herself.’
Orlando hesitated, at first, whether it was worth while to give up Monimia’s company for an evening, for the sake of being introduced into this society, of which he did not form any very great expectations; but Carr, who saw how much his spirits were depressed, urged him to try the experiment. ‘The assembly is not, I own,’ said he, ‘the very first of the kind in London; for, to the first, neither my relation or I have any chance of being admitted; but, I assure you, the lady of whom I speak, is celebrated for her wit, and for the novelty of her poetry, if not for that of her plays; and you will find some people there, who may be worth being acquainted with.’ Orlando then consented to go on the following Friday, and Carr attended him accordingly.
He was introduced to a little, ill-made woman, with a pale complexion, pitted with the small-pox; two defects which her attachment to literature did not prevent her from taking all possible pains to conceal: there was in her air, a conviction of self-consequence, which predominated over the tender languor she affected – Indeed it was towards the gentlemen only that this soft sensibility was apparently exhibited: Ladies, and especially those who had any pretence to those acquirements in which she believed herself to excel, were seldom or never admitted; and she professed to hold them in contempt.
Though no longer young, she believed herself still an object of affection and admiration; and that the beauties of her mind were irresistible to all men of taste. – They were indeed of a singular cast: but as there are collectors of grotesque drawings, and books, no otherwise valuable than because they are old; so there were minds who contemplated hers with some degree of admiration; who thought her verses were really poetry, and that her dramas (the productions of writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries modernized) had really merit. As she was by no means insensible to perfection, if it appeared in the form of a young man, she was immediately struck with the figure and address of Orlando; and, amidst the something which was called wit and literary conversation that now began, she addressed herself particularly to him – enquired into his studies, and his taste in poetry – besought him to favour her with some of his productions, and seemed disposed to elect him to emulate, if not to rival, the Florios and Philanders with whom she held a tender correspondence in the news-papers.
Orlando, naturally of a gay temper, and easily seizing the ridiculous, entered at once into this singular character; and before he had been half an hour in the company of this modern Centlivre, she declared, in a loud whisper to Carr, whom she beckoned across the room to come to her, ‘that he was the most divine creature she had ever conversed with.’ A gentleman was now announced by the name of Mr Lorrain, at whose arrival the lady of the house expressed great pleasure; and said to Orlando, ‘Oh, Mr Somerive! I shall now have an opportunity of introducing you to one of the most sublime geniuses of the age – a man of the warmest fancy, of the most exquisite wit.’ – Orlando looked towards the door where this phænomenon was expected to enter, and saw, to his utter astonishment, a gentleman who seemed to him to be – Warwick.
He remained riveted to his chair, gazing on the stranger, who approached the lady of the house without noticing her guests. After he had however paid her some very extravagant compliments on her looks, and received her answers, which were designed to be at once tender and spirited, she desired to introduce him to a newly-acquired friend of hers; and Mr Lorrain, turning his eyes to the young man who sat next her, discovered immediately, by the wonder expressed in his looks, that in this new acquaintance of hers, he had found an old acquaintance of his own.
A few confused words were all that either the one or the other was at first able to utter. Orlando, not much pleased with a change of name, which he thought boded no good to his sister, enquired very earnestly after her: – his brother-in-law, in increased confusion, which he seemed endeavouring to conquer, answered, ‘that she was well;’ and then, as he found Orlando in no
humour to connive at the deception, which for some reason or other he chose to practise, as to his name and situation, he took him by the arm, and begged he would walk with him to the other end of the room, where he told him, in a hurried way, ‘that he was but lately come to England, after a variety of distresses, and being afraid of his creditors, and for other reasons which he would hereafter give him, he had changed his name for the present;’ of which he desired him not to speak in the company they were then in. ‘But my sister, Sir,’ said Orlando, ‘where is my sister? – has she too changed her name?’ – ‘Of course,’ replied Warwick, who seemed hurt at the vehemence with which he spoke. – ‘Well, Sir; but by whatever name you choose to have her called, you will allow me immediately to see her – Is she in town?’
‘Yes,’ replied Warwick coldly; ‘here is a card that will direct you to her – All I request is your silence this evening in regard to my change of name; a matter that surely cannot be material to any one here.’
Orlando assented to this, and they returned together towards Mrs Manby, the lady of the house, to whom Warwick, assuming again the name of Lorrain, said, in a careless way, ‘that he now owed her another obligation, by having been introduced, by her means, to an old friend, for whom, ever since his arrival in London, he had been enquiring in vain.’ The conversation then became general. Some other visitors arrived, some departed; and Orlando, impatient to have some private conversation with Warwick, asked ‘if he would accompany him and his friend Carr?’ – To this he assented; but Mrs Manby would not release them till they had promised to visit her again the following week.
Carr, as soon as he learned from Orlando who Warwick really was, took leave of him, under pretence of business in another part of the town; and as the evening was fine, Orlando and his brother-in-law walked homewards together.
As soon as they were alone, the former expressed his surprise at meeting thus unexpectedly, and under another name, one who had so long been given up for lost; and his still greater wonder, that it was possible for his sister to be in London, without having seen or made any enquiry after her mother and sisters, or her family.
‘Suspend your astonishment, Somerive,’ said Warwick, ‘or at least suspend your blame: when you hear all we have suffered, and all we have contended with, you will find at least no occasion for the latter; and though I own it appears extraordinary that my wife has not yet sought her family, that circumstances will seem less so, when you know that it is not above three weeks since we came out of Scotland; and that, after our long detention in America, we returned to Europe, without being able to return to England – and have been in Spain, in Portugal, in Ireland, and at length in Scotland. – When I can relate to you in detail all these adventures 12, you will find more to pity, than to reproach us for.’
‘But, my dear Warwick,’ said Orlando, who already forgave what he had before thought there was cause to resent, ‘will not our Isabella see her mother now? – Will not she give this inexpressible comfort to a tender parent, who had never ceased to regret her loss?’
‘You must settle that with her, my friend, to-morrow, when I beg you will breakfast with us. Your sister has two little boys to present to you, and will be delighted I know to see you, but it must not be without some preparation.’ Orlando promised to be with them at breakfast; and on Warwick’s expressing a wish to hear how he was himself situated, he gave a brief detail of all that had happened from their last parting at Rayland Hall to the present time.
Warwick heard him with attention, and then said, ‘So, my dear boy! it does not appear that thy piety has succeeded better than my rashness: – I have been disinherited and bedeviled by my uncle for marrying a girl I liked – and you, who sacrificed your own inclinations to your vartue, have been disinherited, for these orthodox fellows in their cauliflower wigs and short aprons – Why, you could not have been worse served, if you had taken off your little nymph with you to America, as I took off mine.’
‘Yes, surely,’ replied Orlando, ‘I should have been worse off; for I should not have what is now, and will be, in whatever extremity I may be, my greatest consolation, the consciousness that I have never, to gratify myself, given pain to those who had a claim on my duty; and that if I am unfortunate, I have at least not deserved my ill-fortune.’
‘Bravo!’ cried Warwick –
“Tis not in mortals to command success;
But we’ll do more, Sempronius – we’ll deserve it.’
I wish you joy, my young Cato; but for my part, I find I have no qualms of conscience about bilking the old boy in Grosvenor Place – I rather think I have done him a kindness, and perhaps one day or other he may find it out.’
‘In the meantime, however, I suppose General Tracy remains inexorable.’
‘Faith!’ answered Warwick, ‘I have never tried; and one reason of my taking another name, was, that he might not know I was in England.’
They were now arrived at a street where, as Warwick’s lodgings were near Leicester Square, and those of Orlando in a street near Oxford Street, it was necessary for them to part for the evening. Orlando, whose affection for Isabella was already revived, sent her a thousand kind remembrances; and Warwick, in return, told him, ‘he longed to be introduced to the nymph of the inchanted tower,’ whom he never had an opportunity of seeing at Rayland Hall. Orlando, after he had left him, considered with astonishment the volatility of his tempter. – His person was a little altered by change of climate; but his spirits were not at all depressed by a change of situation so great as between being the heir of General Tracy, and a wandering adventurer, for he did not conceal from his friend that such was his present situation; that it was in consequence of his having written something for the news-papers, that he had become acquainted with Mrs Manby, who had answered them, and that he was now soliciting the managers to accept of a play he had finished. The humiliating attendance which he owned this pursuit seemed likely to render necessary, was added to the reasons he had already given Orlando, why he wished to be known at present only as Mr Lorrain.
CHAPTER XII
ON his return home, Orlando related to his wife his extraordinary meeting with Warwick; and though he expressed great delight in knowing that his sister was living and well, he could not but feel concern for the situation in which he found her. He knew not whether Warwick did not, notwithstanding his apparent gaiety and carelessness, repent him of his precipitate marriage; and he feared, that, by a man of so volatile a temper, the evils of narrow circumstances would not be softened to Isabella.
He hastened to her the next morning, and she received him with blended emotions of joy and distress particularly affecting. It was not till some time after Warwick left them together, that Isabella had courage to ask the circumstances of her father’s death; yet she was consoled by hearing, that her elopement did not appear to have hastened it. Orlando then entreated her to determine on seeing her mother immediately, and she left it to him to manage it as he would. He embraced her two lovely children with affection, and could not behold them, without representing to her how necessary it was to think of some means to reconcile Warwick to General Tracy.
Isabella answered, ‘that they had come to London with that intention; but that Warwick’s pride, and his uncle’s having certainly made a will in favour of his brother’s son, had combined to throw difficulties in the way of a reconciliation; and she now despaired of Warwick’s pursuing his hopes of it, or of their being crowned with success if he did. – His change of name,’ she said, ‘had been made partly to avoid his creditors, who now believed him dead, till he could find means of paying them; and partly that General Tracy might not be informed of his being in London, till he could know whether there was a likelihood of his being forgiven.’ The vivacity of Isabella seemed subdued, but she was not dejected; and after she had wept over the account of her father’s death, her brother’s misconduct, and the dispersion of her family, she recovered some degree of cheerfulness, and seemed to prepare herself for an interview
with her mother, with more resolution than, from all that had happened, Orlando thought it possible for her to assume.
This formidable meeting was fixed for the next day; and when Orlando left his sister, he began to consider if he might not, at the same time, acknowledge his own marriage, and put an end, at once, to the state of uneasiness, and consciousness of violated integrity which he now was in.
When he rapped at his own door, he was told by the maid who opened it, ‘that the porter whom he saw in the passage had been waiting for him some time with a letter, which he was directed to deliver into no hands but his own.’ He opened it with precipitation, and found these words written in a hand hardly legible:
‘DEAR ORLANDO,
‘IF my having left you so long ignorant of what is become of me, has not entirely estranged you from me – come to me at the place the bearer will shew you, and perhaps it will be the last trouble you will ever receive from
Yours,
P. SOMERIVE.’
Orlando, shocked and surprised, enquired of the man, who stood by, ‘where he had left the gentleman who sent him?’ – The man replied, ‘that he had orders not to answer, but to shew him the way: – that the gentleman was ill in bed, and given over by the doctor.’ Still more alarmed by this account, he bade the man wait a moment, while he went up to speak to Monimia, in order to account for his being so much longer absent, and then hastened with his conductor to an obscure street leading from the Strand to Covent Garden; where, in an attic room, very dirty and very ill furnished, Orlando found his unhappy brother, in an illness which seemed to be the last stage of a rapid decline, brought on by debauchery and excess.
It might give too tragic a colouring to the conclusion of this narrative, were the scenes of some days to be minutely described – it may therefore suffice to state, that Orlando could not conceal from his mother the situation of her eldest son, who, conscious of his approaching end, and conscious too of all his offences towards her, implored her pity and forgiveness. In his repentance, however late, his mother forgot his errors, and as solicitously tried to save him as if he had never offended her. – With difficulty he was removed to her own house, where she constantly attended him, with Orlando, and where there were, for some days, hopes of his recovery. – It was in this interval that Orlando, who could not bear to be so constantly separated from Monimia, and whose heart continually reproached him with the deception he was guilty of towards his mother, concerted with Selina the means of declaring both his marriage, and the return of Isabella to London. Mrs Somerive, on the point of losing one of her children, embraced, with transport, the daughter she had so long believed lost; and though she trembled for the consequence of Orlando’s marriage, when there seemed so little probability of his finding a support for a family, she acknowledged that Monimia, of whom she soon became passionately fond, was an apology for his indiscretion. With the tenderest assiduity, Monimia shared the fatigue of attending on the dying brother of her husband; and in despite of the remonstrances and displeasure of Mr Woodford, who did all he could to irritate his sister against Orlando, and who mingled the pecuniary favours which she was obliged to owe him, with admonitions and reproaches that destroyed all their value, Mrs Somerive not only forgave Orlando, but seemed to love him more fondly than ever. That cruel want of money, which too often divides families, and estranges even the child from the parent, served only to unite this family more closely. The pride of Warwick alone kept him at a greater distance than the rest; and unable, under his present circumstances, to appear as he once did, he could not bear to appear at all before those, who had once seen him so differently situated. He avoided, therefore, going to the house, when he thought there was a probability of his meeting any of the Woodford family; none of them indeed but Woodford himself were very likely to be there; but from him Warwick would have flown with more apprehension than from the rest, not only on account of his coarse jokes, but because of his connection with General Tracy.
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 153
