"Your meaning?' asked Tremaine. "Why what, after all, is the action of the story?' replied Evelyn. What but the fate of the usurpation of his brother, the daily falling off of the followers of the one, and the accession of those of the other, till the right was reclaimed. All this, to be sure, was "Under the shade of melancholy boughs," and is only the more beautiful for it; but still here was enterprize, action, and interest, as well as trees, brooks, and stones, mingled together in the most agreeable alternation of light and shade.' "Yet there is not a line or a word about what you call the action that can be remembered,' said Tremaine,' and Shakspeare himself scarcely mentions it.' "That was his skill,' returned Evelyn; his immediate object was pastoral, and there he and his reader revel together; we quaff it with delight, but the event of the fable is always on our minds, though secretly, and perhaps insensibly. Had Shakspeare propounded to himself nothing more than mere and absolute solitude, with no hope beyond it, it would have been absolute vacuity.' "How comes it then,' pursued Tremaine,' that all, even of the most illustrious rank, all that are eminent for powers and talents, as well as the most beautiful poets and the soundest philosophers, have all and alike concurred in the praises of retirement?' "Praises, if you will,' answered Evelyn, but who really practised what he recommended? Horace, with all his charming rhapsodies about Lucretilis and the Sabine farm, and his Oh! Rus, quando ego te aspiciam,' was always sneaking to town, and then wrote to his steward that he was a very absurd fellow for not liking to stay in the country. As for your 'illustrious,' by which I suppose you mean ministers of state-' "I do,' said Tremaine. "To them, as a recess from application, while the fatigue of it is upon them, no doubt retirement is heaven. But let their minds recover their tone, and how eager are they to get back!' "Nay, now surely you mistake,' cried Tremaine ; 'for how many ministers have felt themselves most blest, nay, have thrown up their offices, to enjoy seclusion.' correspondence, to see, in the midst of his anxieties about Europe, an equally expressed anxiety to preserve bay trees for his villa; not, indeed, that this was either unnatural or foolish, were it not for the gross affectation tagged to the end of it.' "I do not recollect what you mean,' said Tremaine. "I think it is in a letter to Drummond,' pursued Evelyn, where he thanks him for these trees, and adds, "I cannot plunge myself so far into the thoughts of public business, as to forget the quiet of a country retreat, whither I will go some time or other, and am always ready to go at an hour's warning." Now, out upon such half-faced professions!' "Why question their sincerity?' asked Tremaine. "He might believe himself sincere,' replied Evelyn, but he was all the time cankered with ambition to the heart's core.' I must not allow this,' cried Tremaine, of a man whose mind was only too elegant and philosophic; although so astonishingly able, that we cannot wonder the world had claims upon him.' "That I should forgive,' returned Evelyn, "if it was not for this affectation,、 which even Swift laughed at, as much as he dared.' "Swift laugh at Bolingbroke!' "He at least tells Pope, (whom my Lord had most charmingly gulled in more things than this,) "I have no very strong faith in you pretenders to retirement; you have not gone through good or bad fortune enough to go into a corner and form conclusions de contemptu mundi." So much, then, for your retired poet; but the best is, Bolingbroke returns the charge, and says both to Swift and Pope, "if you despised the world as much as you pretend, you would not be so angry with it." Thus this grand triumvirate imposed upon one another; praised, and were unhappy in their retreat; growling at the world, yet not able to live out of it.' "Come, then,' said Tremaine, 'I will give you a minister, who, if any one did prefer philosophy in retirement to a silly ambition, was certainly the man.' "I long to know him,' cried Evelyn. "Sir William Temple!' "He was most like it,' observed Evelyn, but I doubt whether even he comes up to your proof; for, from necessity, he was always called back before he had tried the experiment. As to the ge nerality, a statesman flings up in a pet, and flies to solitude for relief; and for a little while he finds it.' "And why not for a great while?' "Because it is relief, only so long as he is under the stings of resentment, or while he thinks he is missed. When his disgust subsides, or he finds himself forgotten, he gets tired of venting reproaches to his trees on the ingratitude of the world, which reproaches the world does not care a farthing about.' "You are alluding to Walpole,' said Tremaine. "I am, and to his celebrated letter, supposed to prove a most philosophical love of retirement. "My flatterers here," says he, "are all mutes. The oaks, the beeches, the chesnuts seem to contend which best shall please the Lord of the Manor. They cannot deceive, they will not lie." I quite agree with his biographer, Coxe, that this indicates the very hankering after the world, which he wished himself and the world to believe he was without.'* ""I will not be bound,' cried Tremaine, by the example of expelled placemen, who, fixing their happiness on the smile of human beings like themselves, deserve all the mortifications they get. D'Argenson, for example, who whined and sobbed in banishment, at Les Ormes,† or even Lord Chatham, who, when he quarrelled with the King, or any of his brother politicians, used to fly to Hayes, in the mere hope of being brought back again. Such ministers as these have ittle to do with real philosophy, and I refuse your authority.' "Let me give you ministers more to your taste,' cried Evelyn. "If you can,' said Tremaine. "Sir William Wyndham, the great Pulteney, and lastly, the great Fox,' replied the Doctor. "Fox?' exclaimed Tremaine. "Even so; for the noctes cœnæque attice would not have been sought at St Anne's Hill, with such apparent gust, had he not thought to mark his resentment against the House of Commons, who would not be swayed by him into a secession. The measure had been tried some sixty years before, by Sir William Wyndham, and laughed at.' "You are prejudiced,' said Tremaine, and cannot seriously think Mr Fox did not love his retreat.' "That I do not say,' returned Evelyn, I only mean to show that a patriot and a minister, whatever they may be called, are pretty much the same thing, and that the patriot man may fly off in a pet to solitude as well as the minister man. Both Mr Fox and Lord Bath came back when they thought they should succeed, in the same manner as Lord Chatham and Lord Temple; nay, I question if Sir William Temple himself did not enjoy his Sheen and his Moor Park the more from the frequent calls that were made upon him to leave them. To pursue our subject,' continued Evelyn, perceiving his friend was not disposed to reply, one lover quarrels with his mistress, he flies Upon this subject the reader will not fail to remember Horace Walpole's account of the retirement of that illustrious statesman, the Duke of Newcastle. His grace retired to Claremont, where, for about a fortnight, he played at being a country gentleman. Guns and green frocks were bought, and at past sixty he affected to turn sportsman; but getting wet in his feet, he hurried back to London in a fright, and his country was once more blessed with his assistance. To a philosopher, or even a courtier, there is not a more useful lesson, or more interesting picture, than this poor man exhibits, as drawn by Marmontel, relating merely to what he saw and heard. "Oh! mes enfans," says he, "quelle maladie incurable que celle de l'ambition! quelle tristesse que celle de la vie d'un ministre disgracié! En me promenant avec lui dans ses jardins, j'apperçus de loin une statue de marbre; je lui demandai ce que c'étoit ?"-" C'est, me dit-il, ce que je n'ai plus le courage de regarder;" et en nous détournant, "Ah! Marmontel, si vous saviez de quelle zèle je l'ai servi; si vous saviez combien de fois il m'avoit assuré que nous passerions notres vies ensemble, et que je n'avois pas un meilleur ami que lui! Voilà les promesses des rois ! voilà leur amitié! et en disant ces mots ses yeux remplirent des larmes." He then (sad employment for his wounded spirit!) showed Marmontel the pictures of various battles, in which he had stood on the same spot with the king, and in one of which, when he had reason to fear his son was killed, Louis had shown him great sympathy. But oh, wretched change!" Rien," continued d'Argenson, rien de moi le touche plus!" After this, he fell with his head upon the bosom of his daughter-in-law, which he watered with his tears-Mém. Marmontel, tom III. p. 18. Distressing and degrading picture of human weakness under the prostrations of ill-regulated ambition; a slave to unworthy greatness! We blush for the Frenchman, and should for an Englishman under the same circumstances; only there is this difference between them, that the Englishman can only be displaced, not disgraced; for he can always fly to an opposition bench in Parliament. I have been at Les Ormes, and saw these battle pieces, but did not then know what recollections they had prompted; more cruel to a disappointed ambitieux than the deaths they commemorated. He would have been wrong if he had said it, for those who knew Mr Fox best, knew how sincere were his enjoyments at St Anne's Hill. Those who did not know him, may read Trotter's amusing account of him there for the proof. He was particularly fond of his geraniums, and used to boast of them to Lord Sidmouth, when speaker, and could always return to the subject of them with soothed interest, amidst the most violent storms of party rage. Ile had never been more furious than one day in haranguing in Palace Yard, on what was called the gagging bills. Half an hour afterwards he came to the house, reeking from the mob, and went up to the speaker, who expected some violent motion, to tell him how sorry he was that his geraniums (some cuttings of which he had promised him) had been blighted at St Anne's Hill.-ED. to his country seat, and finds pleasure in abusing her to the winds; another is happy in her affection, but some cruel papa interposes difficulties; he flies too, in order the better to plan, in solitude, how to overcome the said difficulties, and meantime carves her name on the bark, and makes verses under all the trees in the neighbourhood. Both find relief for a time, because both in fact are engaged in their favourite occupation: but the enragé finds soon, that his sulkiness is no revenge; and the bien aimé, that being idle will not please papa; so the solitude becomes irksome to both, and is gladly abandoned.' · "Papa understands the thing at least,' said Georgina laughing; I hope not by experience.' "Experience is the best mistress,' replied Evelyn, and I certainly recollect many a retirement to a house in a wood, in order to ascertain better than I thought I could from herself, whether your mother loved me or not. Those solitudes were charming, but short; I had others of a longer duration, and perhaps from better motives.' "I did not know you were such a disciple,' said Tremaine. "Oh yes,' returned the Doctor, 'I have often shut myself up.' "The occasion?' asked Tremaine. 'Oft seeks a sweet retired solitude, Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.' "But seriously, it was to recover the bent of my mind-I may even say of my virtue-when I had been sadly dissipated, as I too often was, and when ease, seriousness, books, and retired devotion, became absolutely necessary for my purpose.' "Georgina took her father's hand. "An anchoret, I protest!' cried Tremaine: had you lived in the fifth century, we should have had you in the desert.' "Indeed you would not,' returned Evelyn, for, having accomplished my purpose by restoring reflection, or by recovering the studies I was near upon losing, (in exchange, perhaps, for an Opera dance,) I sighed again for a communication with my species; and, indeed, often felt thankful to join the supper conversation of the people with whom I lived.' "And who were they?" asked Tremaine. "A mere woodman and his wife, said Evelyn, whose lodge was a mile distant from all other habitations, except of rabbits and tame pheasants, and whose cheerful children were not unfrequently an acceptable diversion to a man, who, with all his resources, was growing tired of himself.' "I have heard, indeed,' said Tremaine, "of being "as melancholy as a lodge in a warren," but knew not how practically true the simile was. Yet you did this often?' "I did, and may venture to say I was always the better for it. Many, at least, are the subjects I examined, both in literature and morals, in these temporary retreats, and the woodman's house was to me always Mihi me reddentis agelli.' "Your picture is at least pretty,' said Tremaine, and I only wonder your secession from the world was not of longer continuance.' The tone of all this, is, we think, exceedingly graceful, and envy no one who would turn hastily over such pages in the hope of a scene. We now give the promised important interview between Tremaine and Georgina, dreaded in prospectu by them both. "Never were two people who loved, or did not love one another, so disconcerted at being left alone together, as Tremaine and Georgina. "Her father's quitting the room seemed to plunge her into a difficulty, from which she could only be relieved by quit ting it too; and this perhaps she would actually have done, had not Tremaine gathered courage to seat himself close by her; and seizing her hand with that one of his which was free, began the conversation he had so long meditated. "My dearest Georgina,' said he, 'suffer me so to call you, even though it may be for the last time. Would to God I might add to it, my own Georgina.' "Georgina left her passive hand in his. "Your excellent father has, I believe, related to you the conversation I had with him in that eventful morning of yester day.' "It was indeed eventful,' said Georgina, looking at his wounded hand; and you must have thought me shamefully ungrateful, not even yet to have inquired after the hand that so kindly saved me.' "Alas! answered Tremaine, I thought not of that when I called the morning eventful: I was more selfish. I referred to what was of far more consequence than this trifling accident-I alluded to my heart's best secret; which, however conscious of it, I believe nothing would have torn from me, but the fear (groundless as it has turned out) of a younger and more suitable competitor for Miss Evelyn's favour: for, believe me, I thought that favour a treasure far too rich for me-Indeed, it is the dearest treasure under heaven.' "Georgina felt these words in her very heart, over which they shed a sweetness that was delicious, spite of all the disap pointment which she feared might await her. It was perhaps this very sweetness that deprived her of the ability either of answering or of withdrawing the hand, which still remained in the possession of Tremaine resting the other, therefore, on the back of her chair, she leaned her cheek upon it, and covered her eyes with its pretty fingers. She thus seemed all ear, and waited for him to go on. 6 "It is most true,' continued he, that when I surveyed your lovely beauty, joined to a goodness and good sense, an innocency as well as elegance of mind, such as I never saw equalled, I thought you would be the last best gift of heaven to him who might eventually gain you. To win, to obtain so invaluable a blessing, was the difficulty; and when I considered myself—I despaired.' "He paused; and Georgina could answer nothing with her lips; but a slight, involuntary, and momentary, but still perceptible return to the pressure of his hand, seemed to ask him why he despaired. I "In many things,' pursued he, thought we were alike-in many I wished, and in some I hoped we might be so. You opened my eyes, even more than your father, to my defects; and my days, from having been a burthen to me, ran on with a sweetness, a lightness, such as I never knew till I knew you.' 66 Georgina was more and more penetrated. 666 My proximity to you,' continued he, ' on all occasions, left me no doubt to what this was owing; and my heart daily and momentarily felt that you alone were the cause of it. "Georgina whispered rather than said, he was a great deal too good; but, affected by all this avowal of his admiration and his tenderness, a tear trickled through the fingers that still covered her eyes, which, devouring her as he did with his, he could not fail to perceive. "His heart dilated with joy; and a delicious hope, which can be imagined only by those who have felt it, seemed to take possession of him, spite of all Evelyn's prognostics. Yes,' continued he, I could have no doubt who and what was the sweet anodyne to the canker which consumed me— out of humour with myself, with mankind, and particularly I fear with womenkind, until my sweet and lovely neighbour redeemed the whole sex, by convincing me I was wrong. "How deeply (suspecting no danger or disappointment, where I knew not at first that I had presumed to form a hope,) how deeply did I drink of this comfort, till my senses were overcome; and I have waked only to greater and more lasting misery than before.' "Oh! Mr Tremaine,' said Georgina, now finding her voice, why all this?what can your meaning be?' "She stopt; and he instantly replied, My meaning is, Georgina, that I cannot be the coxcomb to presume, that with such disparity of years between us, the friend and school companion of your father, I could ever obtain more than your esteem. To inspire you with those sentiments, that warmth and eagerness of affection, which yet I should be fool enough to look for in the person I sought for my heart's companion-to do this, I should despair.' "Oh! if that were all!' exclaimed Georgina, while a stified sigh, amounting even to sobbing, prevented her from going on. "In my turn, my dear Georgina,' said Tremaine, let me ask what can your meaning be?' "Alas!' answered Georgina, gathering strength and fortitude to proceed with her purpose, how little would the disparity you talk of be, in my eyes, if there were no other cruel disagreement between us !' "I will not affect to misunderstand you,' replied Tremaine, for I have gathered all from your father; but tell me, sweet girl, is it possible I have heard aright, and from your own lips-is it possible, (I beseech you to bless me again with the assurance, if true,) is it possible that I could really aspire to your love, were all these disagreements, which you call so cruel, re moved ?' "Georgina immediately became again abashed, and returning to her former position, only covering her face still more with her hand, she asked, in a hesitating subdued voice, "Does my present behaviour shew that Mr Tremaine's attentions can be unwelcome to me?' "Tremaine's whole frame became at these words inflated with a joy which his life had never known. He raised her hand to his lips, and was very near throwing himself at her feet, when he exclaimed, Then all my soul has desired is accomplished, for all other difficulties are as nothing.' "Stop,' said Georgina, assuming all her decision, and disengaging herself from his arms; we must not go on thus. Would to heaven the difficulties you speak of were really nothing! But my father has told you, and I confirm every word he has said, that if the tenderness you have avowed to me were even more dear to me than I own it is, it would be impossible to gratify your wishes, or my own, while you think of the most sacred, most awful things, as I fear you do.' "What,' asked Tremaine, mournfully, has your father represented of my opinions ?" "Alas! I fear he is too accurate to have misunderstood, and is too just to misrepresent them and we lament, if I may presume to join myself with him on such an occasion, what he calls the ruin of a mind as to sacred things, too noble, in everything else, not to inspire every one with the sincerest esteem.' "Has he, then, related no particulars ?" "Oh! yes! but, I beseech you, spare the sorrowful account. To think that you own no providence, no care of the Almighty here, and still less hereafter, fills me with terror, only to be equalled by the grief of thinking that it is you who do this.' "Her agitation, from mingled sorrow and tenderness, here became extreme. "Oh! sweet and admirable girl,' he exclaimed, sweet as thy youth, and admirable as thy beauty, how shall I answer you so as to appease your distress, and yet preserve my own character with you for the honour you allow me? How can I show you the frankness you deserve, when by doing so I probably destroy my hope of you for ever? Have you really considered this matter? is your resolution fixed? is it the spontaneous act of your deliberate mind? or is it your father's counsel that sways you, not your own?' "Oh, my own, my own,' replied Georgina for were it even possible, (which it is not,) for my father to have counselled me differently, such is my horror-oh! excuse me such a word-alas! that ever I should apply it to one who emotions prevented her from finishing. VOL. XVII. her "Am I, then, an object of horror to you, Georgina?' "The Almighty knows my wretchedness in using the word,' returned Georgina: I would say rather my terror, my grief-but whatever it be, it is so strong, lest the guide of my mind, as well as the master of my heart, should lead me into such errors, that were my affection fixed beyond all power to move it, I should dread, and would refuse to gratify it!' "Noble girl!' cried Tremaine; but surely reasonable as noble, and, if so, will you not hear me?' "Oh! gladly; yes, if you will confess we are mistaken." "Tremaine was severely pushed, in his turn. His heart's best hope hung on the answer he might choose to give to this one question. But his truth prevailed. Recovering, therefore, from the struggle, he contented himself with saying, of this we will talk farther; at present, I only wish to observe upon your fear that I should lead you into such errors. Whatever my opinions, (and I really know not that I have been correctly represented,) think not I would attempt to mislead you, or lead you at all. If, therefore, the most perfect freedom in your sentiments, uninfluenced by me; if the most solemn promise to abstain from even the assertion of my own in your presence; in short, a sacred compact, that the very subject shall not even be mentioned between us;-if this can insure your peace, and deliver you from your fears, by the honour you are so kind as to ascribe to me, I swear to adhere to such a promise in all the amplitude you can possibly prescribe. One exception, indeed, I possibly might ask of my Georgina, and that is, that I might be myself her pupil, until her innocent nature had so purified mine, as at least to leave no hinderance from prejudice to my arriving at truth. Lastly, should I really be thus blessed, and should our union increase the number of those interested, I would leave them all to the direction and tutorage of him in whom my Georgina would most confide that excellent and pious man from whom she herself derives her principles, as her birth.' "A proposal so congenial to her every feeling, so agreeable to her wishes, so soothing to her fears, so flattering to her hopes, so encouraging to all her prepossessions, made the most vivid and visible impres sion upon her firmness. It staggered much of her resolution, and had well nigh overpowered her whole purpose at once. Nor would, perhaps, the most virtuous, the most pious, have blamed, or at least refused to have excused her, had she yielded to terms so delightful to her heart. "Oh! Mr Tremaine,' she replied, in a hesitating, irresolute, but at the same time the softest voice in the world, do not 3 Z |
