"Makes his approach in modesty's disguise,
To win applause; and takes it by surprise."
YOUNG.
As we finished the last chapter by an allusion to plans, we may
wisely commence this by suggesting one of our own. It would be very
convenient in narrative to print the narrations of contemporaneous
events in parallel columns on the same page; but that contrivance
not being sanctioned by high authority, we dare not adopt it. Now
how pleasant and agreeable it would have been to the reader while
perusing the last chapter, and reading how Mr. Markham to his very
great annoyance received an epistle from Miss Henderson, how pleasant
would it have been to turn his eye across the page, and see at the same
time what was passing in Miss Henderson's heart, or in Mr. Henderson's
house! And again, how agreeable to know how our good and noble friends,
the Earl and Countess of Trimmerstone, are going on at this time! This
plan may some day or other be adopted. It would be a good speculation
perhaps to publish Tom Jones, or Hume and Smollet, on this plan, and
call it the Laputan System. In like manner the stage at our theatres
might be divided into divers compartments, and events that occur at
the same moment might at the same moment be exhibited to the audience
or spectators. There would in this arrangement be a great advantage,
inasmuch as, if one scene were stupid and sleepy, the good people might
give their attention to another. Among the ingenious men who are daily
exhibiting proofs of their Laputan education, some will no doubt be
soon found who will adopt and perfect this plan. For the present we
must go on according to the old system.
We must return, therefore, to Miss Henderson, who, as soon as
she had despatched her note to Markham, began to think that she had
acted rather forwardly, and feared that unpleasant consequences might
result from thus almost saying yes, before she was asked. It was a
pity that she did not think of that before. But there was no help
for it. She thought it might be only regarded as an ebullition of
friendship; and she thought that such a superior man as Markham would
be above regarding the common-place etiquette of every-day society.
Oh, how delightful it is to have a mind superior to the common herd
of mortals! Miss Henderson was very sure that her mind was superior,
and she trusted and hoped that Markham's also was superior. Of this,
however, she began to entertain some doubts, when he did not make
his appearance at Mr. Henderson's quite so soon as the young lady
expected him. She thought that he was not a very ardent lover; but
then again business might prevent him; and then again, what business
ought to detain a lover from the idol of his soul? Day after day, Miss
Henderson staid at home. Nothing could induce her to leave the house,
for it was possible that in the hour of her absence, the beloved one
might make his appearance. For with all her conviction of Markham's
attachment, there was a lurking distrust and a feeling in her mind that
he would not anxiously seek or long wait for her; and this feeling,
though unacknowledged and unrecognised, had its influence on her mind.
Doubts rose thicker and darker, amounting to serious apprehensions;
and her mind was nearly in the same state as it had been when she made
the last transfer of her affections. Anxious to miss no opportunity
of seeing Markham, she was punctually in her pew at the chapel; and
sorry are we to say it, she was more occupied with the thought of
the young gentleman's absence than with the edifying and elegant
discourse of her father. But Markham was not there. The young lady
was absolutely angry, and began to think herself very ill used. Some
of our readers may fear, that a very cold reception or severe lecture
awaited the young gentleman. In that they are wrong, for had he made
his appearance, his transgression would have been forgotten, and his
reception most cordial. For at that time Miss Henderson could not
spare him, having no one to supply his place. It is desirable always
to keep up a proper supply and succession of lovers. Miss Henderson
acted on this principle, inasmuch as an interregnum would be a sad loss
of time. If indeed Mr. Markham knew as much as we did, his mind would
have been much easier. But he was fearful that the young lady might
break her heart, and he was fearful that the world would cast bitter
reproaches upon him. That was a consideration which weighed mightily
with him. Happy, however, was it for him, and a great relief it must
be to our readers to be informed, that a new transfer of the heart of
Miss Henderson was about to take place. Yet there may perhaps be some
who are so hard-hearted as to delight in such torments, and to wish
that our young friend might not be so soon and so easily dismissed
from his state of trouble and uneasiness. A strange propensity it is
in some minds, that they delight in the sufferings and pains of their
fellow-creatures! Treatises have been written to account for this
propensity, and many ingenious theories formed on the subject: but one
theory is quite as good as another; and we are not willing to disturb
the minds of those who have formed their own or adopted another's. To
pass on from this philosophising, which is more pleasant to the writer
than the reader, we will proceed with our narrative.
As Markham had neglected much beyond the usual period to pay a
visit to Mr. or Miss Henderson, the latter began to think him little
better than a gay deceiver; and when mention was made in her hearing
concerning the probability of her union with the young gentleman,
she no longer gave such confident assent to the report, but spoke
doubtingly and hesitatingly. In this she acted wisely and discreetly.
For if there was a probability that Markham should disappoint her, it
would be highly important that she should hold herself disengaged, that
there might be no time lost in providing herself with a successor. Now
here we are in need of that arrangement of double columns, of which we
made mention at the beginning of this chapter. For on that very day on
which Mr. Markham, after a long absence and a great deal of doubting,
did call on Mr. Henderson, on that very day Miss Henderson was out. She
had not the slightest idea that Markham would call in the evening, but
men of business cannot always call in the morning. Markham was very
much occupied in the early part of the day. If we had the double-column
plan, we might on one side paint the young gentleman's disappointment
at not seeing the lady, and on the other depict the young lady at
an evening party at the Right Hon. the Earl of Trimmerstone's town
mansion; but as it is, we must leave the gentleman to bear his
disappointment in solitude, and accompany our friend Miss Henderson to
the mansion of nobility.
The Right Honorable the Earl of Trimmerstone had not, as we
have before hinted, a very select circle of acquaintance. Access
to his mansion and to the Countess's evening parties was no great
difficulty. Easy, however, as it was, it was felt as an honor by some
who visited there. Among these Miss Henderson was one. There was also
another present at that party who was exceedingly proud of permission
to visit a Right Honorable Earl. The person to whom we allude was a
young physician of rising reputation in his practice at the west end.
His name was Theodore Crack. In nervous cases the doctor had very
much distinguished himself. We would indeed recommend all doctors
to distinguish themselves in nervous cases. In some instances the
patient wants the doctor, but in the nervous the doctor wants the
patient. Dr. Crack had succeeded most wonderfully in some cases of
this nature. The doctor we have said was young and successful, and
the doctor was also very vain. Our readers would scarcely believe us
if we were to state the full extent of the young man's conceit. One
very special piece of coxcombry consisted in his change of name. He
called himself Crack, though his real name was Crick; but as he came
of very humble parentage, he altered his name that he might not seem
to be related to persons in such humble condition. The west end of the
town was quite a new world to him; and when first he settled there, he
used to strut about and regard himself with astonishment. His native
place he quite forgot; for seeing that the town in which he had been
born was very small compared to London, Westminster, Southwark, and
the suburbs, he thought it beneath his dignity to acknowledge or to
recollect that so small a town was large enough for him to be born in.
Sometimes there would come gaping up to London some rustic who had
been school-fellow with this magnificent doctor, and sometimes such
a one would, if meeting the doctor in the street, be rude enough to
recognise and address him, whereupon he would cut them splendidly, and
say that his own name was not Crick but Crack. Rustics are not likely
to be nervous; and why should doctors care about them? Dr. Crack was
constitutionally pompous; in very early life the propensity manifested
itself. Being of short stature, he strutted and held up his head as
high as he possibly could; and he made daily and hourly use of the
most magnificent expressions and the finest words that he could find.
There was also mingled with the pompous, something of the finical. In
his dress he was superb and extravagant; and while he was engaged in
the studies preparatory to practice, he cost his father two-thirds
of his income. But Theodore was thought such a wonderful boy, that
no expense was spared and no extravagance was grudged him. Theodore
ought to have been more considerate; he had too many useless and idle
expenses. It was very foolish, for instance, to spend a serious sum of
money in finding family armorial bearings; but he was going to become a
physician, and hoped to keep a carriage; he thought that it would be a
pity not to have arms painted on the pannels; and then he wanted them
for his seal; and seeing in a shop-window notice that arms were found
there, the temptation was too great for him to resist, and he went into
the shop accordingly; but was sadly disappointed after much research
to discover that Crick had no arms, but Crack had; therefore from his
own internal feelings being assured that he must be of the blood of the
highest family of the two, he forthwith became Crack, and bore the arms
of that family; and all the little insignificant low-born cousin Cricks
were forgotten and cut; and our young gentleman swelled with conscious
pride when he felt the blood of the Cracks flowing in his veins. These
matters may appear trifling, but there is something in them interesting
to those whose eyes can bear to look closely and minutely on such
insect minds as Dr. Crack's. The pride of blood, birth, and connexion,
extends very widely and very deeply; and there are multitudes who would
have too much pride to be proud of these matters, did they but know how
far the feeling extends. Another trait in the character of Dr. Crack
ought not to be passed by unmentioned: he thought that every body else
had as high an opinion of him as he had of himself. Therefore he could
never believe or imagine that any one ever laughed at him; and the
arrogance of his manners thus became truly amusing and ludicrous. We
have had occasion to remark in a former part of this narrative, that
nature gives instinct to those on whom she has not bestowed the gift of
reason; and that in the rational being called man, where the reasoning
power is not very strong, nature has made amends by the addition of a
respectable and serviceable portion of instinct, thus reasoning for
those who cannot reason for themselves. But sometimes it occurs that
the pride of a man thus furnished scantily with reasoning power and
abundantly with instinct, is such, that he fancies he has sufficient
strength of reason, and then sets up for a rational being; at which
nature, as if offended at such arrogance, leaves the poor thing to the
sole guidance of its own fancied intellect. It is then like a child
which is too proud to use leading-strings, and too weak to go without.
Our young friend Dr. Crack was thus situated.
We have taken wide and ample space for the delineation of this
character; for which we hope to be excused: but we could not manage
to compress intelligibly. And as the said personage is not likely to
make his appearance again in our pages, at least as acting any very
important part, we thought it best to set him forth at once copiously,
and we trust clearly.
At the Countess of Trimmerstone's evening party, this worthy doctor
felt himself highly honored. He expected much attention from all
present, but of that he failed. To several he made the attempt to talk
knowingly and learnedly; but most of those whom he addressed had not
the organ of discussionativeness strongly developed. Proud therefore
as he felt himself, and honored as he conceived himself to be at this
evening party, he found that there were in the world some individuals
who did not think quite so highly of him as they ought to do; but
he took it for granted that they were very ignorant people who were
not capable of understanding him. In the course of the evening it so
happened that this worthy doctor encountered our friend Miss Henderson.
When great geniuses meet, they are sure to recognise each other. So was
it in the instance before us. For Miss Henderson and Dr. Crack had been
looking about the room to find some one on whom to vent their wisdom;
and when they met, they were most happily met. If Markham had but known
Dr. Crack and Miss Henderson, and had known that they were talking
wisdom and sentiment together at the Earl of Trimmerstone's, his mind
would have been relieved from a very heavy burden, and he would have
had some well-founded hopes of getting rid of the incumbrance of Miss
Henderson's heart. When the two wise ones had been conversing some
little time, and they thought that they had impressed each other with
a proper sense of their own wisdom, they next wished to let each
other know their own importance. This could not be done directly,
but indirectly. The doctor was desirous of extending his reputation
with a view to business; and the young lady wished all elegant people
and lovers of wisdom and sentiment to hear her pa preach his pretty
superfine sermons. It is an easy matter to make oneself known to a
stranger, there was no necessity for the doctor to say, "I am the
great doctor Crack;" nor was it necessary for Miss Henderson to say,
"My pa preaches pretty sermons." The doctor to reveal himself to the
lady began to talk about such of his patients as bore titles, and some
of these had been at the chapel where Mr. Henderson preached, so Miss
Henderson could thus inform the doctor that her pa was the celebrated
fancy preacher. Thereupon the doctor said,
"Indeed! I have heard judicious and intellectual persons highly
eulogise the eloquent orations of Mr. Henderson; so that I have more
than once had a contemplation of attending at that highly celebrated
chapel. There is something in eloquence, in fine eloquence, so fine and
so rapturous, that it is truly captivating and enchanting."
Miss Henderson hearing this eloquent encomium on her father's
eloquence was greatly delighted, and in a moment she thought Dr. Crack
the most pleasant and agreeable man in the world. Miss Henderson was
especially pleased with splendid talk and fine orations. Now though her
father was very elegant as to his pulpit ministrations, he was in his
ordinary talk very plain and straightforward. His daughter however very
much admired finery in language at all times, and upon all occasions.
It was pleasant therefore to her to listen to the sublimities of Dr.
Crack. With readiness and gratitude she replied,
"Eloquence must indeed, sir, be a very high gratification to those
who like you can comprehend and enjoy it. It would give me great
pleasure to see so good a judge as you at our chapel. Indeed I must do
justice to the gentleman who reads prayers. He has a most beautiful
and melodious voice: it is quite music. I think you would be highly
gratified to hear him read: I am sure you would. Your voice, sir, puts
me very much in mind of his."
"That," replied Dr. Crack, "is exactly what I admire. A beautiful
intonation and a correct enunciation, give great force and beauty to
reading. Truly beautiful reading is a rare accomplishment, because
so few persons are capable of reading beautifully and gracefully.
But of course where there is such a preacher as Mr. Henderson, there
must of necessity be a good and graceful reader also. I apprehend,
madam, that the pulpit, the bar, and the stage, are the three great
schools of oratory; and I humbly presume to utter it as my decided
and unhesitating opinion, that the pulpit is the sublimest school of
the three. We have had and have in our kingdom most magnificent and
splendid orators in the pulpit. But, alas! I am sorry to say that my
profession does not permit me to attend at church so frequently as I
could wish. It would indeed give me great pleasure to listen to such
a gentleman as Mr. Henderson; but if I go into church I am sure to be
called out, and I am rather fearful lest any censorious people should
imagine or apprehend that I am only called out for display: therefore
it is I am too seldom at church. I dislike display very much indeed."
"So do I," replied Miss Henderson; "real merit never needs to have
recourse to any kind of display to make itself known. It will always be
discovered and patronised. I have heard of your fame, Dr. Crack, and I
have often wished that my ma, who is dreadfully nervous, would be wise
enough to put herself under your care. I am sure she never will be well
till she does."
"You flatter me, madam; but indeed I may say that I have a very
peculiar mode of treating those complaints; and few cases are so
obstinate as not to yield to my treatment. I have cured the Duchess of
K., and the Marchioness of P., and the Countess of V., and many others
of inferior note. There is a peculiar art in the management of nervous
disorders, which I have studied with the greatest care. I was once very
nervous myself, therefore I know the proper mode of treatment by actual
experience."
Much as it was the practice for Dr. Crack to talk of his own
wonderful exploits in the healing art, we do not suppose that our
readers will be very desirous of having from us a very elaborate report
of all the speeches made by the skilful leech to Miss Henderson. The
young lady, however, did very much admire, and very highly commend and
compliment, all that the doctor was pleased to say on the subject of
medicine; and she listened attentively, because she loved knowledge,
and because the voice which uttered it was very musical, and because
she was very desirous that the learned and skilful doctor should go to
the fine chapel to hear pa's fine sermons, and to listen to the truly
elegant and beautiful style in which prayers were read. Many other
topics of conversation were started and pursued by these two knowing
ones, and the evening passed away pleasantly to them, and they enjoyed
what they both liked; namely, an opportunity for exhibiting their own
wisdom, taste, and what they thought eloquence.