“No, no, I’ll not be dunned into paying you. If you had not asked me for it, I should have given it you to-night: but since you could not trust to my honour, you’ll please to wait till to-morrow morning.”
“But I did trust to your honour for a whole month.”
“A month! — a great while, indeed; then trust to it a day longer; and if you ask me for the money to-morrow, you shan’t have it till the next day. I’ll teach you not to be such a little dun: nobody, that has any spirit, can bear to be dunned, particularly for such small sums. I thought you had been above such meanness, or, I promise you, I should never have borrowed your half-guinea,” added Holloway; and he left his unfortunate creditor to reflect upon the new ideas of meanness and spirit, which had been thus artfully thrown out.
Oliver was roused from his reflections by his friend Howard. “Mr. Russell is ready to go with us to the gardener’s again,” said Howard: “have you a mind to come?”
“A great mind; but I am ashamed, for I’ve not got my half-guinea which I lent.” Here his newly acquired fear of meanness checked Oliver, and without complaining of his creditor’s want of punctuality, he added, “but I should like to see the poor woman though, for all that.”
They set out, but stopped in their way at a bookseller’s, where Howard inquired for that essay of Dr. Franklin on smoky chimneys, which he was impatient to see. This bookseller was well acquainted with Mr. Russell. Howard had promised to give the bookseller the translation of the little French book which we formerly mentioned; and the bookseller, on his part, was very obliging in furnishing Howard with any books he wanted.
Howard was deep in the essay on smoky chimneys, and examining the references in the print belonging to it, whilst Mr. Russell was looking over the prints in the Encyclopedia, with little Oliver. They were all so intent upon what they were about, that they did not perceive the entrance of Holloway and Mr. Supine. Mr. Supine called in merely to see what Mr. Russell could be looking at, with so much appearance of interest. The indolent are always curious, though they will not always exert themselves, even to gratify their curiosity.
“Only the Encyclopaedia prints,” said Supine, looking over Mr. Russell’s shoulder: “I thought you had got something new.”
“Only smoky chimneys,” exclaimed Holloway, looking over Howard’s shoulder: “what upon earth, Howard, can you find so entertaining in smoky chimneys? Are you turned chimney-doctor, or chimney-sweeper? This will be an excellent thing for Lord Rawson, won’t it, Mr. Supine? We’ll tell it to him on Thursday; it will be a good joke for us, for half the day. Pray, doctor Charles Howard,” continued the wit, with mock solemnity, “do you go up the chimneys yourself?”
Howard took this raillery with so much good-humour, that Holloway looked quite disappointed; and Mr. Supine, in a careless tone, cried, “I take it, reading such things as these will scarcely improve your style, sir — will they, think ye, Mr. Russell?”
“I am not sure,” replied Mr. Russell, “that Mr. Howard’s first object in reading is to improve his style; but,” added he, turning to the title-page, and pointing to Franklin’s name, “you, perhaps, did not know—”
“Oh, Dr. Franklin’s works,” interrupted Supine: “I did not see the name before — to be sure I must bow down to that.”
Having thus easily satisfied Mr. Supine’s critical scruples by the authority of a name, Mr. Russell rose to depart, as he perceived that there was no chance of getting rid of the idlers.
“What are you going to do with yourself, Russell?” said Mr. Supine; “we’ll walk with you, if you are for walking, this fine evening; only don’t let’s walk like penny postmen.”
“But he’s in a hurry,” said Oliver; “he’s going to see a poor woman.”
“A poor woman!” said Supine; “down this close lane too!”
“Oh, let’s see all that’s to be seen,” whispered Holloway; “ten to one we shall get some diversion out of it: Russell’s a quiz worth studying, and Howard’s his ditto.”
They came to the gardener’s house. Holloway’s high spirits suddenly subsided when he beheld the figure of the mulatto woman.
“What’s the matter?” said Oliver, observing that he started; “why did you start so?”
“Tell Howard I want to speak one word with him, this instant, in the street; bid him come out to me,” whispered Holloway; and he hastily retreated before the poor woman saw his face.
“Howard,” cried Holloway, “I sent for you to tell you a great secret.”
“I’m sorry for it,” said Charles; “for I hate secrets.”
“But you can keep a secret, man, can’t you?”
“If it were necessary, I hope I could; but I’d rather not hear—”
“Pooh, nonsense,” interrupted Holloway, “you must hear it; I’ll trust to your honour; and, besides, I have not a moment to stand shilly shally: I’ve got a promise from my father to let me go down, this Easter, with Lord Rawson, to Marryborough, in his dog-cart, randem-tandem, you know.”
“I did not know it, indeed,” said Charles; “but what then?”
“Why, then, you see, I must be upon my good behaviour; and you would not do such an ill-natured trick as to betray me?”
“Betray you! I don’t know what you mean,” said Howard, astonished.
Holloway now briefly told him his stage-coach adventure, and concluded by saying, he was afraid that the mulatto woman should recollect either his face or voice, and should blow him.
“And what,” said Howard, shocked at the selfishness which Holloway showed—”and what do you want me to do? why do you tell me all this?”
“Because,” said Holloway, “I thought if you heard what the woman said, when she saw me, you would have got it all out of her to be sure; therefore I thought it best to trust you with my secret, and so put you upon honour with me. All I ask of you is, to hold your tongue about my — my — my — frolic, and just make some excuse for my not going into the room again where the mulatto woman is: you may tell Supine, if he asks what’s become of me, that I’m gone to the music-shop, to get some new music for him: that will keep him quiet. Good by.”
When Howard returned to the room where the mulatto woman lay, he expected to be questioned by Mr. Supine about Holloway’s sudden departure; but this gentleman was not in the habit of paying great attention to his pupil’s motions. He took it for granted that Holloway had escaped, because he did not wish to be called upon for a charitable subscription. From the same fear, Mr. Supine affected unusual absence of mind whilst Mr. Russell talked to the mulatto woman, and at length, professing himself unable to endure any longer the smell of smoke, he pushed his way into the street. “Mr. Holloway, I suppose,” said he, “has taken himself home, very wisely, and I shall follow him: we make it a rule, I think, to miss one another; but to keep a young man in leading-strings would be a great bore. We’re upon the best footing in the world together: as to the rest—”
New difficulties awaited Holloway. He got home some time before Mr. Supine, and found his friend, the stage-coachman, waiting for him with a rueful face.
“Master,” said he, “here’s a sad job: there was a parcel lost last night, in the confusion of the overturn of the coach; and I must make it good; for it’s booked, and it’s booked to the value of five guineas, for it was a gold muslin gown that a lady was very particular about; and, master, I won’t peach if you’ll pay: but as for losing my place, or making up five guineas afore Saturday, it’s what I can’t take upon me to do.”
Holloway was much dismayed at this news; he now began to think he should pay too dear for his frolic. The coachman persisted in his demand. Mr. Supine appeared at the corner of the street; and his pupil was forced to get rid immediately of the coachman, by a promise, that the money should be ready on Saturday. When Holloway made this promise, he was not master of two guineas in the world; how to procure the whole sum was now the question. Alderman Holloway, with the hope of exciting in his son’s mind a love for literature, made
it a practice to reward him with solid gold, whenever he brought home any certificate of his scholarship. Holloway had lately received five guineas from his father, for an approved copy of Latin verses; and the alderman had promised to give him five guineas more if he brought home the medal which was to be the reward for the best essay in the periodical paper, which the Westminster boys were now writing. Holloway, though he could write elegant Latin verses, had not any great facility in English composition; he, consequently, according to the usual practice of little minds, undervalued a talent which he did not possess. He had ridiculed the scheme of writing an English essay, and had loudly declared, that he did not think it worth his while to write English. His opinion was, however, somewhat changed by his father’s promised reward; and the stage-coachman’s impatience for his money now impelled Holloway to exertion. He began to write his essay late on Friday evening — the medal was to be given on Saturday morning — so that there could not be much time for revisal and corrections. Corrections he affected to disdain, and piqued himself upon the rapidity with which he wrote. “Howard,” said he, when they met to deliver in their compositions, “you have been three weeks writing your essay; I ran mine off in three hours and a quarter.”
Mr. Holloway had not considered, that what is written with ease is not always read with ease. His essay was written with such a careless superfluity of words, and such a lack of ideas appeared in the performance, that the judges unanimously threw it aside, as unworthy of their notice. “Gentlemen,” cried Dr. B., coming forward among the anxious crowd of expectants, “which of you owns this motto? —
“‘Hear it, ye Senates, hear this truth sublime,
He who allows oppression shares the crime.’”
“It’s his! — it’s his! — it’s his!” exclaimed little Oliver, clapping his hands—”it’s Howard’s, sir.”
Dr. B., pleased with this grateful little boy’s honest joy, put the medal into his hands, without speaking, and Oliver ran with it to his friend. “Only,” said he, “only let me be by, when you show it to your aunt.”
How much the pleasure of success is increased by the sympathy of our friends! The triumph of a school-boy over his competitors is sometimes despicable; but Howard’s joy was not of this selfish and puerile sort. All the good passions had stimulated him to exertion, and he was rewarded by his own generous feelings. He would not have exchanged the delight which he saw in his little friend Oliver’s face, the approving smile of his aunt, and the proud satisfaction Mr. Russell expressed at the sight of his medal, for all the solid gold which Alderman Holloway deemed the highest reward of literature.
Alderman Holloway was filled with indignation when he heard from Mr. Supine that his son’s essay had been rejected with contempt. The young gentleman was also much surprised at the decision of the judges; and his tutor, by way of pleasing his pupil’s friends, hesitated not to hint, that there “certainly was great injustice done to Mr. Augustus Holloway’s talents.” The subject was canvassed at a turtle dinner at the alderman’s. “There shall not be injustice done to my Augustus,” said the irritated father, wisely encouraging his Augustus in all his mean feelings. “Never mind ’em all, my boy; you have a father, you may thank Heaven, who can judge for himself, and will: you shall not be the loser by Dr. B.’s or doctor any body’s injustice; I’ll make it up to you, my boy; in the meantime, join us in a bumper of port. Here’s to Dr. B.’s better judgment; wishing him health and happiness these Easter holidays, and a new pair of spectacles, — hey, Mr. Supine?”
This well-chosen toast was drunk with much applause and laughter by the company. The alderman insisted upon having his Augustus’s essay produced in the evening. Holloway had now ample satisfaction, for the whole company were unanimous in their plaudits, after Mr. Supine had read two or three sentences: the alderman, to confirm his own critical judgment, drew out his purse, and counting out ten bright guineas, presented them, with a look of high self-satisfaction, to his son. “Here, Augustus, my boy,” said he; “I promised you five guineas if you brought me home the prize medal; but I now present you with ten, to make you the amends you so richly deserve, for not having got their medal. Thank God, I am able to afford it; and I hope,” added the alderman, looking round, and laughing, “I hope I’m as good a patron of the belles lettres as the head doctor of Westminster himself.”
Holloway’s eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of the glittering bribe. He began some speech in reply, in which he compared his father to Maecenas; but being entangled in a sentence, in which the nominative case had been too long separated from the verb, he was compelled to pause abruptly. Nevertheless, the alderman rubbed his hands with exultation; and “Hear him! hear him! — hear your member!” was vociferated by all the friends of the young orator. “Well, really,” concluded his mother to the ladies, who were complimenting her upon her son’s performance, “it was not a bad speech, considering he had nothing to say!”
Lord Rawson, who was one of the company, now congratulated his friend in a whisper—”You’ve made a good job of it to-day, Augustus,” said he: “solid pudding’s better than empty praise. We’re going,” continued his lordship to the alderman, “to try my new horses this evening;” and he pulled Augustus with him out of the room.
“There they go,” said the prudent father, delighted with his own son’s being the chosen friend of a nobleman—”there they go, arm in arm, a couple of rare ones: we shall have fine work with them, I foresee, when Augustus gets to college — but young men of spirit must not be curbed like common boys — we must make allowances — I have been young myself, — hey, Mr. Supine?”
“Certainly, sir,” said the obsequious tutor; “and you still have all the sprightliness of youth; and my ideas of education square completely with yours.”
According to Alderman Holloway’s ideas of education, the holy days were always to be made a season of complete idleness and dissipation, to relieve his son from his school studies. It was his great delight to contrast the pleasures of home with the hardships of school, and to make his son compare the indulgence of a father with the severity of a schoolmaster. How he could expect an education to succeed which he sedulously endeavoured to counteract, it may be difficult for any rational person to conceive.
After Lord Rawson and Holloway had enjoyed the pleasures of driving the new horses, tandem, in a dog-cart, and had conversed about dogs and horses till they had nothing left to say to each other, his lordship proposed stepping in to Mr. Carat, the jeweller’s shop, to look at some new watches: his lordship said he was tired of his own, for he had had it six months. Mr. Carat was not in the way when they first went in. One of the young men who attended in the shop said, “that his master was extremely busy, in settling some accounts with a captain of a ship, who was to leave England in a few days.”
“Don’t tell me of settling accounts,” cried Lord Ramon—”I hate the sound of settling accounts: run and tell Mr. Carat that Lord Rawson is here, and must speak to him this instant, for I’m in a desperate hurry.”
A quarter of an hour elapsed before the impatient lord could be obeyed; during this time, his lordship and Holloway rummaged over every thing in the shop. A pretty bauble to hang to his watch caught his lordship’s fancy. His lordship happened to have no money in his pocket. “Holloway,” said he, “my good fellow, you’ve ten guineas in your pocket, I know; do lend me them here.” Holloway, rather proud of his riches, lent his ten guineas to his noble friend with alacrity; but a few minutes afterward recollected that he should want five of them that very night, to pay the poor stage-coachman. His recollection came too late, for after Lord Rawson had paid three or four guineas for his trinket, he let the remainder of the money down with an absent nonchalance, into his pocket. “We’ll settle — I’ll pay you, Holloway, to-morrow morning, you know.”
Holloway, from false shame, replied, “Oh, very well.” And at this instant Mr. Carat entered the shop, bowing and apologizing to his lordship for having been busy.
“I’m always, to be sure, in a very great hurry,” cried Lord Rawson; “I never have a minute that I can call my own. All I wanted though, just now, was to tell you, that I could not settle any thing — you understand — till we come back from Marryborough. I go down there to-morrow.”
The Jew bowed with unlimited acquiescence, assuring his lordship that he should ever wait his perfect convenience. As he spoke, he glanced an inquiring eye upon Holloway.
“Mr. Holloway, the eldest, the only son of Alderman Holloway — rich as a Jew! and he’ll soon leave Westminster,” whispered Lord Rawson to the Jew. “Holloway,” continued he, turning to his friend, “give me leave to introduce Mr. Carat to you. You may,” added his lordship, lowering his voice, “find this Jew a useful friend some time or other, my lad. He’s my man in all money jobs.”
The Jew and the school-boy seemed equally flattered and pleased by this introduction; they were quickly upon familiar terms with one another; and Mr. Carat, who was willing that such an acquaintance should begin in the most advantageous and agreeable manner on his part, took the young gentleman, with an air of mystery and confidence, into a little room behind the shop; there he produced a box full of old-fashioned secondhand trinkets, and, without giving Holloway time to examine them, said that he was going to make a lottery of these things. “If I had any young favourite friends,” continued the wily Jew, “I should give them a little whisper in the ear, and bid them try their fortune; they never will have a finer opportunity.” He then presented a hand-bill, drawn up in a style which even Messrs. Goodluck and Co. need not have disdained to admire. The youth was charmed with the composition. The Jew made him a present of a couple of tickets for himself, and gave him a dozen more, to distribute amongst his companions at Westminster. Holloway readily undertook to distribute the tickets upon condition that he might have a list of the prizes in the lottery. “If they don’t see a list of the prizes,” said he, “not a soul will put in.”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 377
