Part 49 (1/2)
Still my advances with Susannah were slow, but if slow, they were sure.
One day I observed to her, how happy Mr Cophagus appeared to be as a married man: her reply was, ”He is, j.a.phet: he has worked hard for his independence, and he is now reaping the fruits of his industry.” That is as much as to say that I must do the same, thought I, and that I have no business to propose for a wife, until I am certain that I am able to provide for her. I have as yet laid up nothing, and an income is not a capital. I felt that whether a party interested or not, she was right, and I redoubled my diligence.
PART THREE, CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A VARIETY OF THE QUAKER TRIBE--WHO HAD A CURIOUS DISINTEGRATION OF MIND AND BODY.
I was not yet weaned from the world, but I was fast advancing to that state, when a very smart young Quaker came on a visit to Reading. He was introduced to Mr and Mrs Cophagus, and was soon, as might be expected, an admirer of Susannah, but he received no encouragement. He was an idle person, and pa.s.sed much of his time sitting in my shop, and talking with me, and being much less reserved and unguarded than the generality of the young men of the sect, I gradually became intimate with him. One day when my a.s.sistant was out he said to me, ”Friend Gnow-land, tell me candidly, hast thou ever seen my face before?”
”Not that I can recollect, friend Talbot.”
”Then my recollection is better than yours, and now having obtained thy friends.h.i.+p as one of the society, I will remind thee of our former acquaintance. When thou wert Mr N-e-w-land, walking about town with Major Carbonnell, I was Lieutenant Talbot, of the -- Dragoon Guards.”
I was dumb with astonishment, and I stared him in the face.
”Yes,” continued he, bursting into laughter, ”such is the fact. You have thought, perhaps, that you were the only man of fas.h.i.+on who had ever been transformed into a Quaker; now you behold another, so no longer imagine yourself the Phoenix of your tribe.”
”I do certainly recollect that name,” replied I; ”but although, as you must be acquainted with my history, it is very easy to conceive why I have joined the society, yet upon what grounds you can have so done is to me inexplicable.”
”Newland, it certainly does require explanation: it has been, I a.s.sert, my misfortune, and not my fault. Not that I am not happy. On the contrary, I feel that I am now in my proper situation. I ought to have been born of Quaker parents--at all events, I was born a Quaker in disposition; but I will come to-morrow early, and then, if you will give your man something to do out of the way, I will tell you my history. I know that you will keep my secret.”
The next morning he came, and as soon as we were alone he imparted to me what follows.
”I recollect well, Newland, when you were one of the leaders of fas.h.i.+on, I was then in the Dragoon Guards, and although not very intimate with you, had the honour of a recognition when we met at parties. I cannot help laughing, upon my soul, when I look at us both now; but never mind.
I was of course a great deal with my regiment, and at the club. My father, as you may not perhaps be aware, was highly connected, and all the family have been brought up in the army: the question of profession has never been mooted by us; and every Talbot has turned out a soldier as naturally as a young duck takes to the water. Well, I entered the army, admired my uniform, and was admired by the young ladies. Before I received my lieutenant's commission, my father, the old gentleman, died, and left me a younger brother's fortune, of four hundred per annum; but, as my uncle said, 'It was quite enough for a Talbot, who would push himself forward in his profession, as the Talbots had ever done before him.' I soon found out that my income was not sufficient to enable me to continue in the Guards, and my uncle was very anxious that I should exchange into a regiment on service. I therefore, by purchase, obtained a company in the 23rd, ordered out to reduce the French colonies in the West Indies; and I sailed with all the expectation of covering myself with as much glory as the Talbots had done from time immemorial. We landed, and in a short time the bullets and grape were flying in all directions, and then I discovered, what I declare never for a moment came into my head before, to wit--that I had mistaken my profession.”
”How do you mean, Talbot?”
”Mean! why, that I was deficient in a certain qualification, which never was before denied to a Talbot--courage.”
”And you never knew that before?”
”Never, upon my honour; my mind was always full of courage. In my mind's eye I built castles of feats of bravery which should eclipse all the Talbots, from him who burnt Joan of Arc down to the present day. I a.s.sure you, that surprised as other people were, no one was more surprised than myself. Our regiment was ordered to advance, and I led on my company; the bullets flew like hail. I tried to go on, but I could not; at last, notwithstanding all my endeavours to the contrary, I fairly took to my heels. I was met by the commanding officer--in fact, I ran right against him. He ordered me back, and I returned to my regiment, not feeling at all afraid. Again I was in the fire, again I resisted the impulse, but it was of no use; and at last, just before the a.s.sault took place, I ran away as if the devil was after me. Wasn't it odd?”
”Very odd, indeed,” replied I, laughing.
”Yes, but you do not exactly understand why it was odd.--You know what philosophers tell you about volition; and that the body is governed by the mind, consequently obeys it; now, you see, in my case, it was exactly reversed. I tell you, that it is a fact, that in mind I am as brave as any man in existence; but I had a cowardly carca.s.s, and what is still worse, it proved the master of my mind, and ran away with it. I had no mind to run away; on the contrary, I wished to have been of the forlorn hope, and had volunteered, but was refused. Surely, if I had not courage I should have avoided such a post of danger. Is it not so?”
”It certainly appears strange, that you should volunteer for the forlorn hope, and then run away.”
”That's just what I say. I have the soul of the Talbots, but a body which don't belong to the family, and too powerful for the soul.”
”So it appears. Well, go on.”
”It was go off, instead of going on. I tried again that day to mount the breach, and as the fire was over, I succeeded; but there was a mark against me, and it was intimated that I should have an opportunity of redeeming my character.”
”Well?”
”There was a fort to be stormed the next day, and I requested to lead my company in advance. Surely that was no proof of want of courage?
Permission was granted. We were warmly received, and I felt that my legs refused to advance; so what did I do--I tied my sash round my thigh, and telling the men that I was wounded, requested they would carry me to the attack. Surely that was courage?”