Duty and Inclination/Chapter 28
CHAPTER VII.
"What, though we wade in wealth or soar in fame?
Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies.'"
Young.
Having previously given a day to Mr. and Mrs. Arden, the General proposed leaving town. His sister had expressed much regret on the occasion, and particularly to Rosilia, who had felt deeply touched by so considerate a kindness. The Philimores also had testified their concern; even Edmund, whose conduct had appeared to her so singularly fraught with gloom, shook her by the hand with that frank cordiality he had been formerly wont to show: after some words of "Remember me to Mrs. De Brooke," and with the concluding part of his speech fluttering upon his lips, he withdrew, and his former gloom overshadowed his brow as he retired.
Nothing occurred during the short journey of the General and his daughter until they reached Newbury, where Mrs. De Brooke and Oriana were already in waiting to give them the joyful meeting. The health of the latter seemed perfectly restored, and she listened with much gratification to all her sister had to communicate as having passed since their separation.
The country place their parents had come to inspect with the desire of taking, lay within a few miles of Bath, it being no other than the beautiful villa in which we found the De Brookes at the beginning of our narrative. It was there that the General, with his family, fixed his residence; it was there that he had hoped to have found peace and rest from the past turmoils of life, in that enchanting spot, in which he might have desired to have ended his days, had not Fate, ever unpropitious to him, chased him from it. In constant expectation of some military remuneration, like the widow from her cruise, he had been drawing from his little fund, dreading to fall into those pecuniary embarrassments by which formerly he had been so long a sufferer.
After several weeks' residence in his villa, an alleviation was given to the usual turn of his reflections by a letter from his sister, couched in the kindest terms, expressive of her gratification in having made acquaintance with Rosilia, and her desire then to do so equally with her sister Oriana. Having removed for the summer months to a country seat, not far from the neighbourhood where resided her brother, she gave him a cordial invitation to come and spend a few weeks with her; requesting of him also to afford her the company of his eldest daughter, Oriana, specifying that Sir Aubrey was to be of the party; and since Rosilia had taken precedence of her sister in obtaining the first introduction, she was the more desirous of seeing Oriana, not wishing to confer an advantage upon her youngest niece that had not been equally afforded to the eldest.
Highly gratified by the opportunity then offering of affording Oriana those advantages which her sister had enjoyed, the General wrote an immediate compliance with the invitation; and the next day set off with his daughter for Fairfield Lodge. After her aunt's kind reception upon her arrival, Oriana had but time to divest herself of her travelling dishabille, and prepare to meet a large company assembled in the saloon. The decorations of art were infinitely advantageous to Oriana, and in the present instance she arrayed herself with more than ordinary taste. With a perfect command of herself, easy and graceful, she entered with her aunt the wide circle, which immediately rose. As Mrs. Arden advanced to introduce her niece, Sir Aubrey came forward to meet her, regretting that he had not seen her first in private, fearing, like her sister, she might be touched with similar emotions; the apprehension, however, instantly vanished, when Oriana, free from the least embarrassment, received his offered hand, no thought intruding to cloud for a moment the animated character of her countenance and manners.
Drawing inwardly a comparison between the sisters, though he had been but little moved by Rosilia's sensibility, yet it had infused into his mind a conscious pleasure, of which he had not lost the remembrance; and when he was asked by Mrs. Arden which of her brother's daughters he preferred, he unhesitatingly answered Rosilia, the younger.
If the manners of Oriana were eminently attractive, if found to be the most accomplished, Rosilia bore from her the palm of beauty. If, of a quick and clear intellect, Oriana, as if from intuitive knowledge, seized upon and comprehended a subject,—Rosilia, given to reflection, thought and contemplation, possessed a judgment less liable to err, more interiorly cultivated and refined. If less dazzling in conversation than her sister, she interested more. If Oriana charmed by her vivacity and sparkled by her wit, Rosilia touched and penetrated the heart by the sweet serenity of her deportment. The one, as a brilliant coruscation playing in a summer sky, might enchant the fancy and ensure the suffrage of a moment; the other, as a lovely constellation, though less vivid, yet from its undeviating steadfastness never failed to leave upon the observer impressions more truly gratifying, solid, and lasting.
The subject more particularly engaging the mind of Sir Aubrey De Brooke, during his visit at Fairfield Lodge, regarded his son. He had greatly participated in his recent calamity, deriving its source from the base machinations of General Haughton, but from which, rising clear of every false aspersion, so fully acquitted, his character appearing in all its native worth and integrity, he had merited a better treatment at the hands of Government than to be put off so repeatedly by promises, whilst new favourites were preferred before him. These considerations at any former period might not have so much afflicted Sir Aubrey as at the present they were found to do, from the growing interest he took in his grand-daughters.
"Those girls," thought he, "in whatever class they move, whatever circles they frequent, cannot but command attention and become conspicuous,—the lights, the idle, and the dissipated of the other sex might be led to flutter about them; admitting that their morals remained unimpaired, the chance of forming an honourable and advantageous alliance might be wholly frustrated, as had already been the case, and might be so again." In a word, he resolved to uphold and patronize them, meritorious as they were, and by thus acting, in the close of life, to shed a lustre upon his private, as he had already done upon his public character. When, from the strength of his reasonings, Sir Aubrey once traced for himself the line of conduct to be pursued, he was never observed to deviate from it: strictly inflexible, it was to this high moral principle he might have owed his rapid and extra-ordinary rise.
On the evening of the second day, he announced his intention of returning to London. He felt himself oppressed; an unusual languor had stolen over him; and though all at Fairfield Lodge were attentive to his least wish, home he conceived most suited to his truly indisposed state.
De Brooke the next morning sincerely felt, and expressed, regret at seeing his father depart so suddenly; but more from the cause, it being evident that since the preceding evening his illness, from his altered looks, had increased. Nevertheless De Brooke felt relieved from a certain embarrassment he never could surmount in the presence of his father; it appeared as if Sir Aubrey possessed urbanity for all but him; his looks, which were benignant to others, seemed clouded when he turned his eyes on him; the lowest lackey subservient behind the chair of his master, he was persuaded, had a heart more light, was sensible of a more interior liberty, than himself. Sometimes, fearing to be taxed with dulness in not contributing his share to the general conversation, he tried to conceal the burden which pressed upon him by an assumed gaiety foreign to his feelings or the tenor of his reflections; when perchance overacting his part, he drew upon himself severe animadversion. "What astonishing levity! what lightness of spirit in one so situated!" was the harsh judgment passed upon, and repeated to him.
De Brooke during the period of youth had been guided more by his Inclination than his Duty, and felt acutely sensible that he had irretrievably forfeited the paternal regard; yet in having severely suffered for his errors, originating in the head, but never in the heart, the compunctious feelings of his latter years had made him most particularly desirous to regain, if possible, the favourable estimation of his father; but alas! the period had gone by, and it was now too late, being still doomed to appear before him under false and unfriendly colours. The flattering reception given by his father to his daughters, however, was no small alleviation.
The dry reserve of Mr. Arden's manners towards him was also tolerated, from the unfeigned approbation he had expressed as to the musical talents of Oriana; and from the knowledge that the request made to him by his sister, to leave his daughter with them for a few weeks, came from his own particular desire. A great lover of music, Mr. Arden enjoyed the idea of profiting by Oriana's accomplishment in that respect—a consideration only that could have influenced him, in detaining under his roof the daughter of De Brooke.
The General, accordingly, was about returning alone to the Villa, when a letter to his sister from Lady De Brooke informed her, "That Sir Aubrey had but ill borne his little journey to town, and was, at the moment of her writing, suffering extreme pain." Calculated as was this account to throw the party assembled at Fairfield Lodge into much alarm, Mrs. Arden thought proper to defer the company of Oriana till another occasion, in order that, should Sir Aubrey still betray unfavourable symptoms, she might be enabled, at a moment's notice, to return to her house in London.
This being decided upon, the General, accompanied by Oriana, set off for his home.
Scarcely, however, had a few days elapsed since he had parted from his sister, than, in concurrence with the agreement he had made with her, she wrote to inform him that herself and Mr. Arden were about leaving the country immediately, to be near her father, having received fresh intelligence with respect to the increase of his malady, and of a nature to create much apprehensions for his safety.
Deeply participating in the uneasiness of his sister, the General on his part lost no time in repairing to town. His presence might not be desired, yet the feelings of a son, duty—indispensable obligations he conceived attached to the filial tie—claimed his doing so, in order to pay his father the respect due to his suffering situation.
Establishing himself in small lodgings contiguous to his father's abode, he determined there to await the issue of his indisposition, which, from the accounts he gathered, he found to be in no way diminished.
Finding that, through the medium of his sister, Sir Aubrey had been apprized of his being in town, and prepared to see him, he called at his door, and was admitted into his private chamber, where Sir Aubrey, who had but just risen, was supported in an elbow chair, seemingly suffering the most acute anguish; his mien nevertheless bore a dignified composure. With a condescension De Brooke rarely experienced, he extended him his hand, which, respectfully bowing over, he carried to his lips. Then seating himself, Sir Aubrey, in somewhat enfeebled accents, entered upon the subject of his malady, evincing in his remarks, notwithstanding the exhaustion of his body, a mind still powerful.
Thus occupied, the physician entered, and, soon after, her Ladyship. Glancing a look of reserve upon De Brooke, and one of anxious inquiry on the doctor, she tremulously asked him how he found his patient. His pulse, he replied, announced fever! but which not being violent, he hoped to allay; that Sir Aubrey, though advanced in age, had yet a strong constitution; that on account of the inflammatory symptoms attending his malady, he had doubtless much to contend with; but he had reason to hope he would surmount it, and if not restored to his former vigour, at least to the enjoyment of tolerable health; that as he had already taken from him much blood, it might be unnecessary to repeat the operation; and above all, he added, quiet and tranquillity were of the utmost and last importance.
Lady De Brooke again looked with severity on the General, which, had he interpreted it, meant to reproach him, from the probable nature of the conference he had held with his father, with being the cause that he then experienced a return of fever. Undaunted by a possibility of dying, yet encouraged by the physician, Sir Aubrey, as well as his Lady, was inclined to suppose his malady might terminate favourably.
On the doctor communicating with his patient, De Brooke withdrew. Truly solicitous for the recovery of his father, he did not omit to call frequently, when he was sometimes accidentally admitted, but oftener dismissed with the message, "My master is too ill to allow of being seen." Mortified at these denials, which seemed to put him on the level of a stranger, he often thought it possible his name was not announced to his father, and that he was kept in perfect ignorance of his visits. It was easy for him to discern that his presence near his father was not agreeable to her Ladyship; and which truly was the real motive why he was so seldom allowed the interview he sought.
Highly tenacious of preserving over the mind of Sir Aubrey an undisputed sway, Lady De Brooke had seen with great reluctance the ascendency his grand-daughters were acquiring, which she artfully hoped to repress by throwing discountenance on the visits of their father, and thus keep open that breach which, to all appearance, was about being repaired. By slight allusions relative to the fatigue his son's conversation gave him, and by an apparent disquietude on that account, her self-interested feelings lay concealed, leading Sir Aubrey to imagine that such sentiments and feelings towards him ever sprung from the strongest affection.
The severe treatment necessary to be resorted to under inflammatory cases, whilst it affords alleviation on the one hand, exhausts and impairs on the other; and thus with Sir Aubrey, contrary to the hopes maintained, in combating with his malady, it was evident his strength became daily weakened, insomuch that at length danger, in its most imminent degree, was apprehended. And yet, at such a crisis, known to her Ladyship, the son was sent from the father's door with the usual message, "My master, Sir, is too unwell to see any one."
"Is there no possibility of gaining admittance?" returned De Brooke. "Will you oblige me by going instantly to announce my name, and tell my father how grieved I am on his account, and how solicitous I am to see him?"
"I cannot, Sir, upon pain of her Ladyship's displeasure," answered the servant; "she will not be intruded upon, and she has given me peremptory orders not to admit any one."
"Even me?" asked the General; "has she in particular mentioned my name?"
"She has, Sir."
Aggrieved, afflicted in the extreme, De Brooke left the door of his dying parent. "Perhaps," thought he, "ere he approaches his end, he may think proper to send for me; surely they will not then deny me!"
That awful and solemn moment was indeed approaching, and Sir Aubrey was heard then to call upon the name of his son: "Aubrey, Aubrey! why does he absent himself, why does he not come to see me?"
Exist there any so savage on the face of the earth, as that the voice of nature or feeling is not sometime or other attended to? Are there any so barbarous who, when all of earth is finally closing upon the view,—the occasion presenting itself without solicitation or seeking for the reconciling of past differences,—can stifle the awakened conscience, open wide the breach and tear asunder those ties, never more to unite, such as ought to bind together, in one common concord, the parent and the child?
Alas! that such barbarity may exist, witness in the case of the unfortunate De Brooke—banished from smoothing the dying pillow of his father! from the hallowed gratification of profiting by those kinder feelings suggested by the heart's compunctions! Heaven itself seemed working in his favour, and yet he was forbidden to prostrate himself at his father's couch, there to solicit his pardon and his blessing!
After the most lingering and excruciating sufferings that ever mortal endured, and submitted to with the most astonishing fortitude. Sir Aubrey De Brooke departed this life, leaving his unhappy son a prey to the greatest sorrow.
Though not called upon to assist in the funeral rites, yet, a true mourner in heart, he beheld his father's bier as it passed on its way for interment, attended by the greatest military pomp. The friend of his Sovereign, nought was omitted that could pay honour to his memory or heighten the solemnity of the procession, which, as it passed, displayed to the view of the afflicted De Brooke the Princes of the Royal blood. Be it to the credit of our British Princes, that in thus condescending to honour the remains of a subject, when found worthy of such a tribute paid to their fidelity, they ennoble and exalt themselves, and live in the hearts and the esteem of their country!
In a retired spot, unobserved by any, with feelings amounting to agony, De Brooke contemplated the pompous but sad scene of one so closely allied to him. "May his soul rest in peace!" exclaimed he. A concourse of people following, obscured his vision, and he withdrew to conceal himself from the possibility of observation, to pursue in the deepest privacy the train of his melancholy reflections.