he is not able to dine out himself; and the only pleasure which I derive
from compliance with his wishes in this matter, is found in the amusement
which our remarks afford to this dear and pleasant host, who would be
a gem in society himself were bodily weakness not to impede the flow
of a mind replete with sense and information. To enjoy at _home_ the
conversation of three such beings as mamma, Mr. Otway, and my uncle, has
the effect perhaps of making me fastidious; but the goddess of dulness
seems to have taken under her especial care every dinner-party in which
I have been forced to mingle since I came into Hampshire. While we are
in the drawing-room there is an attempt sometimes made to take _us_ into
the circle, which would be very diverting to witness as a mere looker on,
but which is very fatiguing to those who must reply. There is a certain
activity of manner, apparently quite distinct from natural good spirits,
which seems to be the fashion at present amongst the young people of
my own sex; and they assail me with an incessant _giggle_, forming a
running accompaniment to the silliest, most objectless questions about
Ireland, as if it were a kingdom in the moon. One tells me that she
wonders I do not speak with a brogue; another asks whether there are
public amusements in _Dublin_, a third inquires whether “the castle” is
really a castle or not, and before it is possible to answer, hops off
to something else; a fourth absolutely entreated me to tell her whether
there were not still existing in the remoter parts of the island, a few
of the aboriginal wild Irish with wings, and laughed immoderately at her
own wit. All these flat stupidities are uttered with an air of hilarity
so perfectly uncalled for, by the occasion, that it makes me stare. If
the object be to proclaim that the spirits never flag, the method is
_round-about_, only proving the fact by implication that _if_ people
can laugh _without_ reason, they must, by an irresistible argument, be
supposed capable of excitement when any cause of merriment appears.
From girls of my own age I have flown to the matrons, in hope of some
relief from “lively dulness which ever loves a joke;” and so far I have
not been disappointed, that in joining the elder groups I have found
_rest_, because, not being prepared to enter upon the subjects which they
discussed, I have quietly sat by, recovering my spirits while they talked
of their nurseries, indispositions, and all the births, marriages, and
deaths, past, present, and to come, of the whole county.
As mamma never leaves my uncle, she is spared much weariness of mind,
which would not be counterpoised to her by the novelty which makes some
amends to us, the younger branches of the household. Mr. Otway performs
the part of _Chaperone_; and on our return home we find the cords of
affection more tightly drawn towards that delightful society with which
heaven, in its bounteous mercy has blessed our happy fire-side. It is,
however, only doing justice to inform you, that we have not yet seen some
charming people who are reported to inhabit this vicinity. One family
is in France, and two others, who are I am told really worth knowing,
are prevented from coming to see us by domestic affliction. You are to
take my saucy criticisms, then, with due allowance, and not conclude
me to be an indiscriminating bigot, who finds fault with all things
exterior to her own particular pale. With this qualification I will
continue my comments, and venture to express a wonder, that where wealth
and situation lead us to expect good breeding, there should be such a
deficiency of it as to exclude from conversation all who are not intimate
through locality with a petty circle of subjects that possess no general
interest, and are incapable of eliciting any one observation in which a
stranger can participate. How _can_ people fancy themselves agreeable
while they are telling the minutest particulars of a teething fit, or
_cackling_ over an interminable list of weddings and wedding wardrobes?
Amongst the gentlemen, the _elders_ devote to prophecying upon the
probable effects of the present drought, all their mental powers which
are not absorbed by the election, and amongst the more youthful there is
the most deplorable lack of intellect in all that I have heard them say
to each other, while to the _female_ part of their acquaintance nothing
can exceed the inanity of their addresses: “Were you at the flower-shew?”
“Shall you go to the race-balls?” “Do you ride?” “Do you like rowing?”
are the only sounds that live upon my memory, and the above questions
have been asked to Charlotte and me so repeatedly, that we might almost
be excused if, like Dr. Franklin on entering an American town, to save
the trouble of inquiry, we were to set up a little placard answering in
large letters, Yes or No, to these and some similar interrogatories,
under a supposition that they will be proposed anew at every turn of the
street. It is sometimes almost ludicrous to see a young man suddenly
start from long forgetfulness that a lady was sitting on one side while
he had been discussing the merits, perhaps of a fishing-fly on the other;
and turning rapidly round, propose some interrogation quite unconnected
with what he had uttered the moment before. This division of topics into
male and female genders is very unlike what I have been accustomed to,
and strikes me as a marked difference between English and Irish society,
by no means favourable to the former. We were the day before yesterday
at a great dinner, and I sat next to a Mr. Johnson, who is eldest son
to a baronet of large fortune in this neighbourhood. So long a time
had elapsed before he condescended to speak to me, that I had hopes of
being entirely forgotten, which, however mortifying to my _pride_, was
compensated by the kindness of a _nice crisp_ little elderly gentleman
on my left hand, who, with great goodnature, talked to me of his crops
in such a manner as to make me feel that he thought himself conversing
with a rational creature, capable of estimating the signs of the times,
and understanding the difference between wheat and barley, turnips and
mangel worsel. But though Mr. Johnson had sat during half an hour with
his back turned upon me while he was talking over, in horrible detail,
a pugilistic match fought near Portsmouth a few days ago, the movement
of my head in bowing to some one who had asked me to drink wine, brought
me in a flash of recollection to his mind, and I could scarcely preserve
my gravity, when, like lightning, he _whisked_ round, and said, as if
for a wager, it was so rapidly done, “Do you waltz?” I feared that this
was a beginning which augured a long list of balls, respecting which I
should have the humiliating confession to make that I had not been at one
in my life; but I was spared this lowering avowal as the entire notice
which he took of the simple negative with which I replied was contained
in the monosyllable “_Oh_,” which, by the bye, is the most comprehensive
little word except _nice_ in the colloquial intercourse of England; and
from the variety of meaning which the several intonations of voice with
which it is pronounced, are capable of imparting, assumes as wide a range
of interpretation as the “Spectator” allots to the exercise of the fan.
There is the _oh_, inquiring; the _oh_, surprised; the _oh_, satisfied;
the _oh_, contemptuous; the _oh_, affected; the _oh_, languid; the _oh_,
inquisitive; the _oh_, doubtful; in short, there is scarcely a state of
the mind which an English provincialist cannot contrive to convey by a
correct modulation of the many keys upon which may be played those two
letters; and as for the twin-brother of this _multum in parvo_--_nice_, I
heard it on one day lately, applied to Lord Eldon, who, a lady near me,
said, was a “nice chancellor.” Afterwards to the French nation, who, a
gentleman opposite, declared, are the nicest people in the world; then to
Der Freischütz, Miss Stephens, a calve’s head, wild ducks, the Hampshire
breed of pigs, red Lammas wheat, Cheshire cheese, cream, coffee, and the
Courier! Does _nice_ mean _any_, or _every_ thing?
An old gentleman called here this morning, who amused me so much by a
dry good humour, which brought Mr. Bentley, and visions of my beloved
Glenalta to memory, that I long to be better acquainted with him. I owe
him my gratitude also for entering the lists most gallantly, in quality
of my defender, and saying for me, to that tiresome Mr. Johnson, whom I
have already introduced to you, what I never could have said for myself.
They entered the library together, and found me reading the newspapers to
my uncle, who, on perceiving that I was going to make my escape, gently
restrained my movement by laying his hand on my arm, and desiring that I
should stay and help him to entertain his visitors. When they came in,
and the usual comments on the weather and state of the roads were ended,
the old gentleman appeared occupied in conversation with my uncle, when
the young one turned round to me, and taking up the paper which I had
laid down, with that self-sufficient air of conscious superiority which
so many young men ridiculously assume, and in a tone which implied as
much contempt as indifference would permit him to express, drawled out
“Pray, Miss Douglas, are you a politician?” I knew not what to say, and
I suppose looked as foolish as I felt, which old Mr. Bolton appeared
to observe, and with an alacrity of kindness worthy of the chivalrous
ages, he made an answer for me, which, if it did not _satisfy_, at least
silenced the enquirer. “I hope that Miss Douglas takes pleasure in
reading the newspapers,” said my knight, “newspapers contain the history
of the present time, and while that of the past is read by all who do
not desire to be branded for their ignorance (here he cast a sidelong
glance at the younger visitor), I see no reason why a lady should disdain
useful knowledge, because it is not _yet_ presented to her in the form
of a _book_;” then changing the subject, before I had power to speak, he
added, “But, Miss Douglas, pray tell me how you like Hampshire, and what
you think of John Bull, who, I am afraid, seems a rude sort of animal in
your eyes?”
This was said so gaily, that I did not suffer the least confusion, and
resolving that I would not bring discredit by my _niaiserie_ on dear
Ireland, I took courage, and replied, that Hampshire was beautiful,
and when the _election_ was over I would tell him how I liked the
inhabitants, as _then_ I might hope to become acquainted with them.
Mr. Bolton laughed heartily, and answered with the pleasantest animation,
“Be assured, my dear young lady, that the election which you deprecate,
is a better friend than you think, and saves you from the fancy-ring
and white mustard-seed, which are the favourite topics that have
succeeded the Catholic question just _gone by_. Now I conceive, from
your countenance, that you would not like the pugilistic platform better
than the hustings, nor find the stomach a more interesting subject of
conversation than the _poll_: what say you?”
I was delighted with my champion, and told him merrily that he was very
right, and I would take care how I repined again.
“Believe me,” continued he, “that you, who seem to have been brought up
in the school of nature and reason, have little idea how widely what
is called the world, departs from both. It is not enough now-a-days to
furnish your house, and adorn your person according to a received rule,
you must eat, drink, sleep, think, or not think, fashionably. You must
be of one consent in sickness as in health; if indisposed, you must be
_fashionably_ indisposed, and as fashionably cured. Four or five years
ago every body of any pretension was afflicted by determination of blood
to the head, and hence, lancet, leeches, and cupping, were in wonderful
activity. The head is now entirely out of fashion, except amongst the
dandies and phrenologists, and the stomach takes precedence of every
other topic, in a well organized society. As you are young, and have
not perhaps made your _debut_, I will give you a hint or two to prepare
you for _good company_. Young ladies of your age, play, sing, waltz,
and dress; talk of Der Freischütz, Weber, and Pasta; laugh a great deal
when there is nothing to laugh at, which shews ability, for _any_ one
could be merry if a _subject_ were allowed, and are silly, envious, and
unfeeling _ad libitum_. Young gentlemen of my friend Mr. Johnson’s age,
ride, fight, row, play whist, hunt, fish, shoot, and talk nonsense;
occasionally dancing and flirting, as the necessity of circumstances
may require; but by no means spoiling your sex, by paying any of those
polite attentions which might lead to insubordination, the more alarming,
as were your masters to lose any thing of their presumed superiority,
they might be ill prepared to recover the lapse of power, unless by a
barbarous appeal to physical strength. The _matron_ class you will find
as well as the well-bred men of a _certain standing_, eating mutton
chops, at intervals, to the amount of a certain number of ounces, with
which no mixture of liquid is permitted, from eight o’clock in the
morning till the same hour in the evening. You will see them likewise
swallowing white mustard-seed by wholesale, and swearing to its sovereign
efficacy in every possible disorder of the human frame. It will naturally
suggest itself to you, that any demand upon the _brains_ would be
unreasonable, now that the casket which contains them is less carefully
attended to than before, and therefore, as an act of justice, fashion
very equitably dispenses altogether with the presence of intellect, which
is enjoying a long vacation.”
I love this old man for his good humour and good sense; and, more than
for either, because his sallies excessively diverted the invalid left in
my charge by the rest of the party, who had gone to return a visit at
some distance from Marsden, and who came back before Mr. Bolton had taken
his departure.
Mr. Johnson went first, and when he had made his bow, my uncle asked
whether his father, Sir Thomas Johnson, were not a very rich man.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Bolton, “he is _called_ by courtesy a rich man. He has
an immense extent of property, which gives him considerable influence;
but he is so _poor_, notwithstanding, that he cannot command a hundred
pounds in ready money, while he is governed by such an inordinate pride
that he would rather die than shorten his rental by an inch of paper,
in selling off land enough to pay the charges on his estate. He is,
however, a kind hearted, hospitable man, who married late in life, and
thinks his only child, who has just been paying his respects to you, a
_sans pareil_, whose hand will amply recompense the largest sacrifice of
fortune that can be made to attain it. It is now his great object in life
to marry his son, and, though he idolizes pedigree, he thinks his own so
transcendent that it will ennoble any inferior race; for which reason he
gives it to be understood that family is less an object with him than
wealth.”
“And pray,” said my uncle, “what sort of young man is Mr. Johnson?”
“Empty, pompous, and good-natured,” answered Mr. Bolton. “He has walked
so many years up and down a long gallery of portraits, that he honestly
believes ‘the boast of heraldry’ to belong peculiarly to his house. As
he was never sent to school, he had no opportunity of comparing himself
with his superiors, and was not compelled to find his true level by the
discipline of a _fagging_ system, or the aristocracy of rank. A private
tutor indulged his early indolence; toad-eaters and retainers flattered
his youthful vanity; and a short stay at Oxford has put the finish to his
education by sending him home an accomplished boxer, rower, and judge of
champagne. He is, as may naturally be expected, very extravagant, and
such a darling with his parents, that, notwithstanding the difficulty of
raising supplies, no curb has ever been put upon his expenditure.”
“Then,” observed my uncle, “I suppose that he is _himself_ also looking
after a wife.”
“Precisely so,” answered Mr. Bolton, “and I have no doubt is certain of
success wherever he may fix his attention.”
I could not help thinking how little I should envy the future Lady
Johnson, whoever she might be, but the conversation was interrupted here
by mamma’s return; and in a few minutes Mr. Bolton took his leave.
I have written a long letter, but I know that you are interested in all
that we say and do, so I need never apologize for being minute in my
details. My uncle has some business to do which will detain him here for
some weeks longer, and I shall hope to hear from you and write again
before we sail for France.
Well, though we are here in the midst of all that is beautiful and
luxurious, my heart pines after Glenalta, and I dream continually of
the scene at parting from so many dear objects that we left behind.
Switzerland, however, will charm me I am sure, and I promise myself a
rich feast in those Alpine wilds which we are to visit. How astonishing
to me is the preference which I often hear expressed for the artificial
world over that of nature! Not all the splendour of this fine place
could ever win me from the dear heathy mountains of Kerry. Fine things do
not warm my heart, nor captivate my imagination; and I never find myself
coveting my neighbours’ goods as I pass through the sumptuous dwellings
that surround us here. All _my_ violations of the tenth commandment are
kept for an humbler scale of beauty, but one far more interesting in my
view of the matter.
The sisters unite in kindest love; and now, dearest Julia, farewell.
Your affectionate,
EMILY DOUGLAS.
LETTER XXXIII.
ED. OTWAY, ESQ. TO REV. MR. OLIPHANT.
_Marsden._
My dear and excellent Friend,
I begin my letter with news which, if it convey to you in any proportion
the pleasure which its announcement imparts to me, may well be called
cheering intelligence. From the time that General Douglas heard of our
late rector’s illness, he was anxious to procure the succession of that
parish, in which Glenalta stands, for you; but doubtful of his power to
accomplish the end in view, he begged that you might not be informed of
his design. Last night’s post put us in possession at the same moment
of the papers which mention Mr. Green’s death, and a letter stating
the agreeable information that all difficulties in the way to your
preferment are smoothed by the general’s promise to provide for a young
person, by the gift of a small living, of which he has the advowson, in
this country. The joy of this little circle is quite vociferous. Your
young friends have not slept, I believe, since the glad tidings were
communicated; and would gladly resign the happiness of travelling into
new scenes, for the gratification of helping to make the bonfires which
they think will redden the horizon in token of good will upon the present
occasion. I heard Fanny telling her brother this morning that she had no
doubt St. John’s Eve never presented such a blaze upon the Beacon Hill,
as your appointment will kindle. This is a bold prophecy, but she stakes
her credit on the justness of her prediction.
Now, my dear Oliphant, I have a request to make, which you will not
refuse. The glebe house wants a library to make it comfortable. I enclose
you a draught for £500, and desire that, by the time of my return, I may
find you in possession of a room in which you can write your sermons, and
pore over your _Elzevirs_ in all the quiet of abstraction from household
cares. Poor Mrs. Green and her children will be desirous to leave their
present abode, I dare say; and you will oblige me by requesting them, in
my name, to make use of Lisfarne, as an asylum, while it may suit their
convenience. When they have evacuated your new premises, desire Barnes,
my steward, to send trees, shrubs, and plants, of whatever kind you may
want, to furnish your garden and shrubbery.
And now I must tell you an anecdote of your friend Frederick, which will
delight your heart. His uncle, who wins hourly upon our affections,
alarmed us a few days ago by a fainting fit, which seemed to threaten
sudden dissolution, but before the arrival of a physician, for whom we
sent to the next town, his sister’s skill had brought him back to life,
and his eyes opened on a group of such tender and genuine mourners, as
must have gratified the best feelings of his breast. For a day or two
Dr. Pancras looked grave, and paused in giving his opinion; but the dear
general has rallied considerably, and wishes to hasten his departure.
On Tuesday evening Mr. Peltry, the solicitor, reached Marsden from town,
bringing with him the title deeds of this place, and some other papers of
consequence. On the following day, after breakfast, my valued friend sent
for me to his study, desiring that Frederick should join us immediately.
As soon as we were together he took his nephew by the hand and said, “My
dear boy, I have sent to London for the gentleman who arrived last night,
in order that I may legally dispose of my property, and provide for some
who are dear to me before ‘I go hence, and am no more seen.’ I intend
Marsden for you, and wish that this kind guardian (turning his eyes upon
me), who has aided your beloved mother in the task which she has so
admirably performed, should be witness to my purposes. There is but one
condition which I desire to propose in leaving Marsden to you. It is that
you should all live here during the next five years, or till the marriage
of your sisters may naturally occasion a dispersion of the family. After
this trial, which will be of sufficient length to ascertain the _wishes_
of each individual, if you should prefer Ireland to England, you are
at liberty to bring this place to the hammer. I bought it myself; it
is no hereditary possession. I shall soon leave it, and should inflict
rather than confer a kindness were I to impose a restriction on your
inclinations that might have the effect of converting what I mean to be a
benefit into a burthen.”
Frederick, whose face had expressed every variety and gradation of
feeling which such an address was calculated to inspire in a breast which
is the abode of all that is most noble, and most tenderly affectionate,
could restrain his emotion no longer. He pressed his uncle’s pale hand
to his lips with ardour, and bathed it with tears of honest grief
and affection. My poor friend was deeply agitated, which his nephew
perceiving, he struggled with his own feelings to avoid exciting those
of the invalid; and, making an effort, thanked his benefactor with that
warm yet dignified expression of countenance and manner, which, while it
bespoke the vividness of gratitude, betrayed no symptom whatsoever of joy
in the mere acquisition of fortune.
“Now then, we will call in Mr. Peltry, and you may go, my dear
Frederick,” said the general.
“Oh not yet,” replied the generous youth. “Do not banish me for a
little while; I have an earnest request to make, and only hesitate lest
you, my dear uncle, should think me for a moment, either ungrateful or
presumptuous.”
“I cannot think you either,” answered General Douglas; “proceed, tell me
what you would have, and if I can, I will indulge you.”
“Forgive me then,” said Frederick, “if I speak all that is on my heart.
I say nothing to deter you from making a final disposition of your
property, because every man must feel a weight of anxiety taken from his
mind when he has performed an act by which he provides for the future
interest of those who are dear to him. Such an act, far from shortening
his days, is likely to prolong them, by removing a painful pressure from
his mind; and therefore I shall have pleasure in thinking that this
deed is done, as well as in being thought worthy of mention in it. But,
dearest uncle, a slight remembrance in point of vulgar estimation may be
rendered supremely valuable by the manner of bestowing it, and should I
survive you, any mark of your affection will be preserved with love and
veneration while I live. May I then, without dread of offending, by the
appearance of dictating to your better judgment, suggest Arthur Howard as
a fitter representative of your fortune than I am. He is a noble fellow;
and by the disinterestedness of his conduct, likely to be reduced from
high expectations to almost abject poverty. He is at this moment raising
money to keep his brother-in-law, Lord Crayton, out of jail, and prevent
the effects of such event upon his mother’s shattered nerves. I, on the
contrary, have been educated with the view to improving my patrimony
by professional labour, the idea of which is not at all displeasing to
me; and I frankly own that the love of my native soil is so strongly
impressed upon my heart, that little Glenalta has greater charms for me
than a ducal residence in any other place could possess.”