_Two Poets under a Dairy-Window._
Next Morning, my _Father_ at his Breakfast questioned us straitly as
to what had been going on during his Absence, and seemed scarcely to
know whether to take Offence at it or not. The receiving and nursing a
Stranger under Mrs. _Gatty's_ Circumstances would have been Something
to cavil at; but then she was own Woman to Lady _Betty_, for whom,
though he only knew her in Public, he entertained great Respect; and
besides, Mrs. _Gatty_ was a fine Woman, which of itself was a Letter
of Recommendation to him. Moreover, she sat by all the While, knitting
a White Silk Mitten; so that he could not, for Manners, speak against
her in her Hearing; and my _Father_, when himself, was a well-mannered
Man. So he hemmed once or twice, and swallowed any Objections he might
have made, had we been by ourselves; and then, to turn the Subject,
"Mrs. _Gatty_," says he, "that Mitten will become your Hand well; but
most other Women's Fingers, coming out of it, would look like Radishes.
And now, let us clear Decks, and make way for the Carpenters."
"The Carpenters, _Father_?" repeated _Prue_ and I in a breath.
"Aye, there are a couple of Fellows coming down to put up two little
Shelves and Brackets, for some little Matters that the Mantel-Piece is
too shallow for. I bespoke the Men overnight, and brought the Toys in
with me. Here, _Peter_, you Knave, bring them in."
Where was the Use of saying Anything?
"Now," says he, laughing as he unpacked them, "here are the
comicallest Things you ever saw in your life; and so _you'll_ say, Mrs.
_Gatty_. Look here--a rural Piece in Cherry-Wood Carving, Farm-Yard
and Farm-House; a Beggar approaching the Door. I wind it up behind,
like a Time-Piece. Now, mark you, the Fun of the Thing! The Beggar
advances--out flies a Mastiff from the House, and furiously attacks
him! ha, ha, ha!
"Now, look at this other, its Companion; a lone House in the Country;
Time, Peep of Day.... A Thief getting in at a First-Floor Window,
by Means of a Ladder ... _Hodge_, coming out of the Barn, with a
Pitchfork, assails him from behind,--you shall see how, as soon as I
have wound it up. Now then! ho! ho! ho! see how he digs into him."
_Gatty_ burst into such an irrepressible Fit of pretty Laughter, that
my _Father_ was her sworn Friend from that Moment; while _Prue_ and I,
influenced by mixed Feelings of Vexation and Amusement, laughed with
more Constraint.
While my _Father_ was making _Hodge_ assail the Marauder again and
again, and each Time bursting into fresh Peals of Merriment, enters to
him _Peter_, with a Paper in his Hand, a Glance at which changed my
_Father's_ Note in an Instant.
"Hark ye, _Peter_!" says he; "why, your Face is a Yard long! What's
your Name, Man? your Sirname, I mean."
"_Greaves_ is my Sirname, Sir--_Peter Greaves_."
"_Peter Grievous_, it should ha' been! _Peter Grievous-had-a-Cat!_ And
your Crest, a Cat proper, with the Motto, 'When I'm pleased, I purr!'
But this is no purring Matter, _Peter_; tell the Fellow who brought
this Paper, that I'm not at Home--I sha'n't be, by the Time you get to
him."
And, snatching up his Hat, he hastily made off through the Glass-Door
into the Garden; and thence, no Doubt, to his Crony, _Don Saltero_,
for whom, indeed, he had such a profound Admiration, that I believe
no Title of Honour could have been conferred on himself that he would
have liked half as well as that of _Don Honeywood-o_. When he was gone,
_Prue_ and I locked up the new Purchases, and sent away the Carpenters,
telling them to await future Orders; and _Gatty_ wrote a Billet to Lady
_Betty_, to acquaint her with her Amendment, and request Directions
concerning her Return. Meanwhile, I was carrying up Mr. _Fenwick's_
Chocolate, when _Prue_, meeting me on the Stairs, said, "Oh, I meant to
have saved you that Trouble, dear _Patty_."
"Oh," I replied, "I am able to return to all my little Duties now; you
have too long worked for both."
"I don't think of that," replied she, with a little Disappointment in
her Air; "Mr. _Fenwick_ has got used to me now, and I thought you would
be better for a little Rest."
"Ah, _Prudence, Prudence_!" thought I, as I pursued my Way, "this
reminds me of the passing Shade on your Brow Yesterday Evening, when he
was attending to Mrs. _Gatty_. Beware of playing, like a Moth, round a
Candle, my dear little Sister, for it will lead to no good."
When I went in, Mr. _Fenwick_ looked round briskly from his
Writing-Table, with a Smile, exclaiming:
"Why, I have been expecting--oh! is it you, Mrs. _Patty_? (with a
scarcely perceptible Change in his Voice); I have been expecting my
Chocolate, I was going to say, this Half-Hour or more; but pray don't
think me impatient--I'm sure I ought not to be so hungry, considering
how you feasted me last Night. 'Tis a Sign of returning Health, I
suppose."
"I fervently hope it may be, Sir," said I. "Most likely it is. I am
sure every Thing in the Way of Nourishment this House contains is at
your Service."
"Thank you, thank you," said he. "Yes, I really believe I am getting
well--have turned the Corner, in Fact; and when I have taken this nice
Chocolate, I think I shall go and bask in the Sun under those Elm-Trees
yonder."
"Then I will put a Cushion for you, Sir, on the Garden-Seat, and a
Foot-stool on the Grass before it; for indeed you must not get chilled!"
"Nay, you will coddle me too much--you have made me too luxurious
a Fellow already. You don't suppose I had all these Vagaries in
_Shoreditch_, do you? I want to be there again, though!--I long to
return to my poor People; only, I don't know that my Voice is yet
strong enough, either for Preaching or Reading. I must make Trial of
it, Mrs. _Patty_; I must begin by small Degrees. I was thinking, that
if you happened to be by yourselves this Evening, it might not be
unagreeable to you for me to come down and read to you all for a little
While--just for Practice."
"By ourselves, Sir?--My _Father_ may or may not be at Home; we are
unlikely to have any one else; and I am sure your Plan will be a very
delightful one to ourselves."
"Very well; we will wait till the Time comes, then, to see if it be
convenient. You are all well this Morning, I hope? Your _Mother_, and
_Sister_, and Mrs. _Gatty_?"
"All well, I kindly thank you, Sir.--I hear myself called ... I believe
I am wanted in the Shop."
I made use of the first spare Moment, to run and place the Foot-stool
and Cushion under the Elms, and then returned to my Post behind the
Counter. In the course of the Afternoon, enters Mr. _Caryl_, who
salutes me with easy Urbanity.
"Good Morning, Ma'am," says he; "pray, is Mr. _Fenwick_ within?"
"I believe, Sir, he is sitting under the Elms in our little
Pleasure-Ground," said I; "I will show you the Way."
"There's no Need; I know it already," says he. "Pray, don't trouble
yourself."
However, I knew what were Manners.
"Ha!" said he, as we passed through the Parlour, which happened to be
vacant, "what a pleasant Evening we had in this Room last Night, and
how funnily it ended!--Pray, Ma'am, has the Gentleman yet found his
five Senses?"
And I saw he was brimful of Mirth, that was ready to explode at the
merest Word.
"Sir," said I, "allow me to say that you did not know where the Gift of
that Speech lay last Night. My _Father_ had presented my _Mother_ with
a Group of Porcelain Figures, representing the Five Senses, which she,
in her Care for them, had put away."
"Was that all?" cried he, his Countenance immediately changing. "Oh, I
see!--aye, aye--How absurd my Blunder was! Upon my Word, Ma'am, I beg
your Pardon for having been so unmannerly. Shocking! shameful!"
Here we came upon Mr. _Fenwick_, who finding himself exposed to a
chill Current of Air under the Elms, had got under the Shelter of the
House, where my _Father_ had set up a pretty enough rustical Seat, just
outside of our Dairy Wire-Lattice. Hence it came to pass that I, being
presently engaged in seeing the Afternoon Milk brought in, heard a good
deal of what passed between the two Gentlemen, whether I would or no.
"I've secured _Dodsley's_ Ear," says Mr. _Caryl_, cheerfully, "so
that I fancy I have but to speak a Word to secure your Piece a Place
in his _Collection_. Nothing remains to be done but for you to attend
to a little Revision in the first Place, before you submit it to his
critical Eye. What say you?"
"Say? That I am infinitely obliged."
"'Let my future Life,' &c.--hey? We'll suppose that all spoken. Well,
here is your Manuscript; I've just scored through what I think had
better be altered and left out. You are not doubtful of my Judgment, I
suppose?"
"Surely not--Just allow me to see."--
"Look _here_,--and _here_--those had better come out. Here again....
What's 'Phoebus' Mane?'"
"Phoebus' _Wain_."
"Oh, I see. That's your bad writing; _Hand_-writing, of course, I mean.
Here again, 'thwarting Thunder.'"
"That's Miltonic."
"Is it?"
"'_And heal the Harms of thwarting Thunder blue._'"
"Hum! Well then, it strikes me, that _Milton_ having said so once, you
had better not say it again."
"Very well, I will not."
"Then, this about Truth. It's very bad--will never do. I was obliged to
skip it in reading to _Dodsley_."
"But why?"
"Why? Why, because it isn't the Thing!--won't go down, Sir! You carry
it out too far, farther than Anybody goes; it's so much Clap-Trap, and
spoils what's real."
"But it is not Clap-Trap. It says no more than I mean and feel! No,
no; I'll give up verbal Points to your better Taste, but in Matters of
Principle, I cannot alter."
"Nay then, the Thing's at an End, for I honestly tell you I won't
concern myself with it as it stands. You may surely allow me some
_little_ Knowledge of these Things. However, it's no Use talking to
an infatuated Man--otherwise, there is another Passage I was going to
propose to you to withdraw, which doubtless you will maintain to be the
best in the Manuscript."
"Which is that?"
"This, about the Water-Nymphs."
"Well,--I think it pretty, and can't see what there is to object to in
it; but, to yield to your better Taste, it shall be withdrawn, if you
like."
"My dear _Fenwick_! you don't say so?"
"I say so, and mean it too."
"Why, this will be a great Sacrifice of yours, especially as it is
against your own Judgment,--of one of the most showy Passages, though I
won't say one of the best!"
"Never mind! Let it be so."
"Come, this is docile and agreeable of you. The Men at _Will's_, in
Fact, extolled this Passage, and pronounced it to be my own! Taxed me
with reading a Poem I had written, as that of another Hand!"
"Nay, now the Water-Nymphs begin to rise in Value in my Eyes."
"In Fact, I _had_ said Something like this, only not so well, in a
former Piece; and they thought I had now worked it out, and improved on
it. So that you see I don't exactly want our Things to clash; nor to
get you accused of Plagiary...."
"Mr. _Caryl_, not another Word.--The Passage shall be omitted."
"Well, I like this; I like your Feeling. Thank you, thank you. We need
never allude to it."
"Never again."
"As for 'Truth,' let it stand. You have yielded a Point to me, I'll
yield one to you."
"I'm glad of that, for I really could not have withdrawn that Passage."
"And I'll speak to _Dodsley_ to-morrow, and get you into the
_Collection_; so expect a Proof-Sheet at no very distant Date, and then
we shall look on you as one of the Guild."
And shaking Hands with him, Mr. _Caryl_ departed.
This Conversation afforded me afterwards, as I sat netting behind the
Counter, Subject for a good deal of Thought. Here was Jealousy peeping
out again; a great Poet jealous of a small one; for so, without any
competent Knowledge of their respective Merits, I concluded them
to be. But if (which I was not sure of) Mr. _Caryl_ were the better
Poet, Mr. _Fenwick_ was the better Man. I had seen him absorbed in the
Composition of that Poem Day after Day; he had given it the nicest
Finish in his Power; there were Thoughts in it which he cherished as
part of himself, and would not be false to, nor give up, to please
any Patron in the World; but yet a favourite Passage, the Fancy and
Expression of which he believed to be good, but which another Man
was envious of, he could obliterate with Magnanimity. That seemed a
great Word for a little Thing; but was it a little Thing? The Wits at
_Will's_ had applauded it; had given it to a popular Writer; then the
real Writer deserved to be as popular. He might have been as popular,
had he kept it in; he might not become popular if it were taken out.
Then again, Expediency. Had it crossed his Mind that it was expedient
to keep well with Mr. _Caryl_, at the Expense of a Passage of Poetry?
That did not seem like Mr. _Fenwick_; I did not believe the Thought had
weighed with him.
Then I proceeded, in my Foolishness and Self-Ignorance, to ponder how
strange it was that it should be hard to Anybody of Common-Sense and
Good-Feeling, to hear:
"_Praise of another with unwounded Ear._"
"Why now," thought I to myself, "_I_ have never found it a hard Matter
to do so. These many Years I have known that Everybody considered
_Prudence_ pretty _Prue_, and me plain _Patty_, and yet I have never
experienced the slightest Emotion of Envy or Jealousy on that Account."
Ah! we little know ourselves. "The Heart is deceitful above all Things,
and desperately wicked--who can know it?" That's the Scriptural Account
of the Matter; and however we may gloss it over, escape from it, or
flatly disbelieve in it altogether, it turns out to be the true one at
last.
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