Читать книгу Patronage - Maria Edgeworth - Страница 15

“My dear father,

“We have a new lieutenant-colonel. Lord Skreene has removed his precious nephew to another regiment, and to punish us for not liking the pretty boy, has ordered us all off to the West Indies: so ends our croaking. Our new King Log we cannot complain of as too young, or too much on the qui vive: he looks as if he were far gone in a lethargy, can hardly keep himself awake while he is giving the word of command, and, instead of being a martinet, I am sure he would not care if the whole corps wore their regimentals the wrong side outwards.—Gascoigne will have all the regimental business on his shoulders, and no man can do it better.—He is now at my elbow, supplying four hundred men and forty officers with heads. The noise of questions and commands, and the notes of preparation, are so loud and dissonant, that I hardly know what I write. Gascoigne, though not benefited, was obliged to me for my wrong-head-journey to London. Henry was very angry with Lord Oldborough for jilting me—Gascoigne with much ado kept him in proper manners towards the lieutenant-colonel, and I, in admiration of Gascoigne, kept my temper miraculously. But there was an impertinent puppy of an ensign, a partisan of the lieutenant-colonel, who wanted, I’m convinced, to have the credit of fighting a duel for the colonel, and he one day said, in Captain Henry’s hearing, that ‘it was no wonder some men should rail against ministerial influence, who had no friends to look to, and were men of no family.’—‘Do you mean that for me, sir?’ said Henry. ‘Judge for yourself, sir.’ Poor Henry judged ill, and challenged the ensign.—They fought, and the ensign was slightly wounded. This duel has wakened curiosity again about Captain Henry’s birth, and he is in danger of being exposed continually to things he could not like, and could not well resent. He consulted Gascoigne and me, and has told us all he knows of his history.—Read what follows to yourself, for I have permission to speak of his affairs only to you. Captain Henry assured us that he really does not know to what family he belongs, nor who his father and mother were; but he has reason to believe that they were Irish. He was bred up in a merchant’s house in Dublin. The merchant broke, and went off with his family to America. Henry was at that time fifteen or sixteen. The merchant then said, that Henry was not his nephew, nor any relation to him, but hinted that he was the son of a Mr. Henry, who had taken an unfortunate part in the troubles of Ireland, and who had suffered—that his mother had been a servant-maid, and that she was dead. The merchant added, that he had taken care of Henry from regard to his father, but that, obliged by his own failure in business to quit the country, he must thenceforward resign the charge.—He farther observed, that the army was now the young man’s only resource, and, on taking leave, he put into Henry’s hands a 50l. note, and an ensign’s commission.—With his commission he joined his regiment, which was at Cork. A few days after his arrival, a Cork banker called upon him, and inquired whether he was Ensign Charles Henry; and upon his answering in the affirmative, informed him that he had orders to pay him 400l. a year in quarterly payments. The order came from a house in Dublin, and this was all the banker knew. On Henry’s application in Dublin, he was told that they had direction to stop payment of the annuity if any questions were asked.—Of course, Henry asked no more.—The annuity has been regularly paid to him ever since—When he was scarcely seventeen, he was pillaged of a couple of hundred pounds one night by a set of sharpers at the gaming-table: this loss roused his prudence, and he has never played since. He has for many years lived within his pay; for he prudently considered, that the extraordinary supply might suddenly fail, and then he might be left in debt and distress, and at the same time with habits of extravagance.—Instead of which, he has laid up money every year, and has a considerable sum. He wishes to quit the army, and to go into a mercantile house, for which his early education has fitted him. He has a particular talent for languages: speaks French and Italian accurately—Spanish and Dutch well enough for all the purposes of commerce. So any mercantile house, who wants a partner, agent, or clerk for foreign affairs (perhaps I am not correct in the technical terms), could not do better than to take Charles Henry. For his integrity and honour I would answer with my life. Now, my dear father, could you have the goodness to assist us so far as to write and inquire about the partner in London of those Dutch merchants, whom you had an opportunity of obliging at the time of the shipwreck?—I cannot recollect their strange names, but if I am not mistaken, they left you their address, and that of their London correspondent.—If this partner should be a substantial man, perhaps our best plan would be to try to get Henry into his house. You have certainly some claim there, and the Dutchmen desired we would apply to them if ever they could do any thing to serve us—we can but try. I am afraid you will say, ‘This is like one of Godfrey’s wild schemes.’ I am still more afraid that you should think Henry’s romantic story is against him—but such things are—that is all I can say. Here is no motive for deception; and if you were to see the young man, his countenance and manner would immediately persuade you of his perfect truth and ingenuousness. I am aware that his romantic history would not do for the Dutch merchants, or the London partner; they would probably set him down directly for an adventurer, and refuse to have any thing to do with him: so I see no necessity for beginning by stating it. I know you hate, and I am sure so do I, all novel-like concealments and mysteries; but because a man makes a bargain with another, he is not obliged to tell him his whole history—because he takes him for his partner or his master, he is not called upon to make him his confidant. All that the merchants can want or have a right to know is forthcoming and clear—character and money.

“My affectionate love and old-fashioned duty to my dear mother—pray assure her and my sisters that they shall hear from me, though I am going to have ‘one foot on sea and one on land.’

“Tell dear Caroline the portfolio she made for me shall go with me to the world’s end; and Rosamond’s Tippoo Saib shall see the West Indies—Gascoigne has been in the West Indies before now, and he says and proves, that temperance and spice are the best preservatives in that climate; so you need not fear for me, for you know I love pepper better than port. I am called away, and can only add that the yellow fever there has subsided, as an officer who arrived last week tells me. Our regiment is just going to embark in high spirits.—God bless you all.

“Your affectionate son,

“G. Percy.

“P. S. Don’t let my mother or Rosamond trust to newspaper reports—trust to nothing but my letters;—Caroline, I know, is fit to be the sister, and I hope will some time be the mother, of heroes.”