The Hon. Philip Martindale was most deeply mortified at being thus lectured at his own table, and schooled in the presence and hearing of his guests. To be dependent is bad enough; but to be thus publicly exposed as it were, is one of the severest parts of dependence. He had never felt any thing so mortifying while he was in chambers in the Temple; and he could not help thinking that those former acquaintances towards whom he had carried himself with proud and haughty reserve, would now look down on him with a much better grace than he could ever have looked contemptuously on them. The feeling of littleness is a very painful feeling, especially to one who has sacrificed his independence for the sake of the semblance of greatness. This was the case with Philip Martindale, whose dependent condition was entirely on his part wilful and voluntary. He had been cautioned by his most excellent mother, but he gave no heed to her admonitions. Lord and Lady Martindale felt on this occasion almost as much mortified as the young gentleman himself: indeed, there was at the table a general feeling of awkwardness and constraint. Philip himself was so far moved, that though he trusted not himself to the language of resentment, he could not altogether suppress a look of indignation at being thus accused of bearing malice against a poor old man. After a little interval of embarrassment, he ventured to say something in vindication of himself; but the very language and manner which he used, sufficiently manifested that he was fearful of offending the old gentleman, and left a very unpleasant impression on the mind of Lady Martindale.
In the evening of that day, Lady Martindale took occasion to converse with her son on the subject of his dependent situation, and to urge upon him the propriety of renouncing a patronage of such a mortifying nature. Her reasoning was very good, and her arguments for the most part unanswerable. It was very true that no confidence could be placed in the whims and caprices of a wealthy old humorist. He might, notwithstanding his advanced years, take it into his mind to marry. He might find out some new favourite on whom he might bestow the greatest part of his property. He would in all human probability live many years; and his capriciousness might, and most likely would, rather increase than diminish. Lady Martindale also reminded her son, that the allowance which he received from the old gentleman was barely sufficient to meet the increased expenses of so large an establishment; so that although he had the honor of living in a splendid mansion, he was rather poorer than richer by the change. To all this not a word of objection could be made; but there was an argument unnamed which had more weight with the young gentleman than all those which Lady Martindale had used. He was aware that he had so far anticipated that he must be indebted to other means than his own hereditary property, or the result of his own professional diligence, to get rid of the encumbrance. It was a truth, though a painful one, that he could never keep up his dignity but by continuing his dependence. His answers, therefore, to Lady Martindale’s persuasions, were such as gave her no hopes of success. As for returning to his profession, his own pride forbade that, and his “dread of shame among the spirits beneath.”
CHAPTER XII.
“——Whilst I remember
Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them.”
Shakspeare.
In pursuance of the promise made by old Mr. Martindale, Miss Isabella Featherstone, and others of the party who had no other amusement in view, went the following morning to the cottage to look over the prints and drawings. The old gentleman had no light task to find and set in order his dispersed treasures: for his pictures were, as his books, in every part of the house, not even excepting the kitchen. He had risen early in order to find them; and it had been to him a task not without labour, though accompanied also with some powerful and interesting feelings. He had been looking back to past times and to years long gone by. He had been conversing with his former self, and had revived the forms of old acquaintances long since dead. He saw them again, and heard them again: their faces gleamed upon him through the lines of many an old engraving. He saw again, after dust had long covered, and darkness had long concealed them, drawings of many a palace in Rome, in Naples, in Venice, from the contemplation of which he had imbibed his love of architecture; and he began, as he looked back into the past, to entertain some feelings of regret. Almost every body looks back to the past with regret, especially old bachelors. By this employment the feelings of the old gentleman were greatly excited, and he began to be almost sentimental; so that when his visitors arrived at his cottage, he received them, not as usual with the odd manners of a humorist, but with a most courteous and old-fashioned politeness.