“A party in a parlour,” to quote an expression from the author of
Peter Bell, is to a clever, active, and managing woman, a very serious
and important matter. If then on the morning of that day which was
destined for the reception and entertainment of Colonel Crop and Miss
Spoonbill, Mrs Greendale should be extraordinarily full of business,
and in proportionable ill-humour, it were not to be wondered at. This
was very naturally anticipated by Penelope, who endeavoured as well as
possible to provide against it. As soon therefore as breakfast was over
she put on as cheerful a look as she could well assume, and asked Mrs
Greendale to give her leave to assist in preparing for the evening
entertainment; and to her very great astonishment, instead of meeting
with a rebuff, she was answered with great civility, and her offer was
accepted; and even her opinion was asked concerning divers ornamental
arrangements of the supper table. The cause of this phenomenon it is
our duty to explain.
Our readers then are to be informed, that on the preceding day, almost
immediately after the interview and dialogue between Mrs Greendale and
the doctor concerning Penelope, the angry lady of the rectory went to
call on Miss Spoonbill, in order to make assurance doubly sure, as
concerned the longed-for visit. At this lady’s house, Mrs Greendale
had the pleasure of seeing Lord Spoonbill; and as his lordship was a
very affable young man, he condescended to take great notice of Mrs
Greendale, and to ask particularly after the doctor and his niece.
In the course of conversation Mrs Greendale cleverly contrived to
let the young lord know that there was to be a party at the rectory
the following day, and that Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop had
kindly condescended to honor the humble roof of Dr Greendale by their
presence; at the same time she also ventured to express how much they
would be honored and how highly gratified if his lordship should not
happen to be better engaged, and would favor them with the pleasure
of his company. To her inexpressibly agreeable surprise, his lordship
unhesitatingly accepted the invitation. “Now a fig for Mrs Darnley,”
thought Mrs Greendale; “I shall have a lord for my guest.” This it was
that put Mrs Greendale in such good humour. Penelope soon received from
her aunt the information which we have communicated to our readers, and
with that communication she also had a request from the good-humoured
and managing mistress of the rectory, that she would see that the
pianoforte was in tune, and that her music-books were in order, because
his lordship was excessively partial to music. It was absolutely
impossible for Penelope not to comply with this courteous request, and
she promised that the music should be all in proper order, though she
knew that she should be under the disagreeable necessity of performing
some stupid duets, in order to give his lordship an opportunity of
displaying his own little knowledge of music.
Lord Spoonbill was the only son and heir of the Earl of Smatterton.
At the time of which we are writing, this promising youth had just
finished his education at the university of Cambridge, or more properly
speaking at the joint universities of Cambridge and Newmarket; for
the latter is a kind of essential appendix, or chapel of ease, to
the former. It is indeed a great piece of neglect, and grievously
impeaching the wisdom of our ancestors, that Cambridge only of the two
universities is blessed by the vicinity of a race-course; seeing that
our hereditary legislators are in many cases more fond of applying the
knowledge which they acquire at Newmarket, than that which they gain,
if it be any at all, at the university of Cambridge: and if there
be any truth in the observation, that the best kind of education is
that which is applicable to the purposes and pursuits of after-life,
then indeed Newmarket may be called the better half of Cambridge. Lord
Spoonbill was not one of those careless young men who lose at the
university what they have gained at school; one reason was, that he had
little or nothing to lose; nor was his lordship one of those foolish
people who go to a university and study hard to acquire languages which
they never use, and sciences which they never apply in after-life. His
lordship had sense enough to conclude that, as the nobility do not talk
Greek, he had no occasion to learn it; and as hereditary legislators
have nothing to do with the exact sciences, it would be a piece of idle
impertinence in him to study mathematics. But his lordship had heard
that hereditary legislators did occasionally indulge in other pursuits,
and for those pursuits he took especial care to qualify himself. In
his lordship’s cranium, the organ of exclusiveness was strongly
developed. We do not mean that his head was so constructed internally,
as to exclude all useful furniture, but that he had a strong sense of
the grandeur of nobility and the inseparable dignity which attaches
itself to the privileged orders. The only instances in which he
condescended to persons in inferior rank, were when he was engaged
at the race-course at Newmarket, or when he found that condescension
might enable him to fleece some play-loving plebeian, or when affairs
of gallantry were concerned. In these matters no one could be more
condescending than Lord Spoonbill. We should leave but an imperfect
impression on the minds of our readers if we should omit to speak of
his lordship’s outward and visible form. This was an essential part
of himself which he never neglected or forgot; and it should not be
neglected or forgotten by his historian. He was tall and slender, his
face was long, pale and thin, his forehead was narrow, his eyes large
and dull, his nose aquiline, his mouth wide, his teeth beautifully
white and well formed, and displayed far more liberally than many
exhibitions in the metropolis which are only ‘open from ten till dusk.’
His lips were thin, but his whiskers were tremendously thick. Of his
person he was naturally and justly proud. Who ever possessed such a
person and was not proud of it?
Now when this superb and elegant specimen of nobility condescended to
patronize Mrs Greendale’s party, was it not enough to account for the
exquisitely high spirits in which the good lady appeared, and for the
unparalleled courtesy with which she accepted the offer of her niece
to assist in preparation for the evening’s entertainment? Penelope
herself was very much pleased; for though she had often endeavoured to
persuade herself that she did not heed Mrs Greendale’s ill-humours,
yet she could not help feeling the difference between good-humour and
moroseness. It is not pleasant to be always within hearing even of
the snarling of a dog, or the creaking of a rusty hinge, and far less
pleasant is the language and tone of human censoriousness. The young
lady was not only pleased with her aunt, but she also regarded Lord
Spoonbill with some degree of approbation. Of his lordship indeed, she
knew but little, save that when she passed him he used to stare at her
with great rudeness and earnestness. That was not agreeable; but, for
aught her simplicity knew to the contrary, such behaviour might be
the mark of that superiority of mind which so exclusively belongs to
persons of rank.
Penelope was also in good spirits at the thought of meeting Mr and
Mrs Darnley, from whom it was possible that she might hear something
of Robert Darnley; for though she had frequently said to herself, “I
am sure he has forgotten me,” yet she did not believe herself when
she said so. Most highly proper and suitable was that feeling; for it
was possible that the neglect was only apparent and not real; in such
case, therefore, common candour required the most favorable view of
the matter. It should be stated, that Smatterton and Neverden were
adjoining villages, both of them at some distance from the high road,
and Neverden was in the line between Smatterton and the nearest post
town. The letters were carried by a great lubberly boy, called Nick
Muggins, who rode upon a little half-starved weazel-faced animal,
that might pass for a horse, ass, or mule; but the poor animal was
so grievously insignificant, that the inhabitants of Neverden and
Smatterton did not even take the trouble to decide to what species it
belonged. But let that pass. Now Nick Muggins was not one of the best
readers in the world; he had unfortunately left school before he came
to that part of his education. There is many a man of letters who does
not know how to read. In consequence of this defect, Nick was forced to
call in the aid of the more learned, and it was not unfrequently the
case that when he asked Mr Darnley, saying; “Please sir, what’s the
’rection of this here?” that if the letter was for Penelope, Mr Darnley
would take it of the boy and carry it to Smatterton in the course of
the day, and especially when no letter came for himself from the same
quarter, as he was anxious to hear from his son by every opportunity.
In hopes therefore that Mr Darnley would make himself doubly welcome at
Smatterton, Penelope kept up her spirits. So the day passed over very
brightly and calmly; and before the shadows of evening had descended,
Mrs Greendale’s party began to assemble.
No newspaper announced to the world Mrs Greendale’s rout, nor did the
hospitality of the rectory disturb the neighbourhood by the rattle of
carriages, the glaring of torches, the thundering of knockers, or the
impatient vociferations of coachmen and footmen. Of the party, we have
already mentioned Miss Spoonbill, Colonel Crop, and Lord Spoonbill.
Mention has also been made of Mr and Mrs Darnley; but nothing further
has been mentioned than their names. As it is desirable to know one’s
company, it may not be unsuitable in this place to introduce to our
readers more particularly and descriptively Mr and Mrs Darnley and
family.
The Rev. Robert Darnley was rector of Neverden, having enjoyed the
living about five and twenty years at the time of which we are writing.
He was a most zealous churchman, and was thought by some persons of
more lax and complying principles to be rather a bigot. In his manners
there was no lack of courtesy, though to a casual observer he might
seem rather proud and haughty. He certainly did entertain a very high
sense of the dignity and importance of the clerical office; and even
those who censured his stately manners bore willing testimony to the
activity and zeal with which he discharged his clerical duties; and
the more creditable to him was this testimony, inasmuch as he never
appeared in the character of a preferment-hunter. He almost entirely
confined his labours to his own parish, and though the living was
small and his own property was ample, he was as attentive as if his
subsistence depended on his parish. Some of his friends used to say
that his professional income was altogether expended in charity. He
was a man therefore of much influence in his neighbourhood, and indeed
it was often remarked that he seemed to be a greater man than Sir
George Aimwell himself; and in truth, if moral dignity has anything to
do with greatness, he certainly was.
Mrs Darnley was the best-tempered woman in the world; not very
remarkable for anything else than for her good-humour, which was
imperturbable and imperishable, and for the remains of great personal
beauty, or rather prettiness. Their family consisted of one son, of
whom we have already spoken, and of three daughters, who were educated
by Mr Darnley himself, and therefore were more distinguished by the
depth of their learning than the extent of their accomplishments.
Happy was it for them, and happy for their father, that they possessed
minds capable of doing justice to a literary education. They were not
pedants nor prigs. To Penelope Primrose they were invaluable friends,
and one or other of them was an almost unceasing companion to her. The
name of the eldest was Anne; of the second, Mary; and of the third,
Martha. Mary was most distinguished for talent, Martha for imagination,
and Anne for good humour and practical good sense. If there were any
difference in the degree in which the young ladies were devoted to
literary pursuits, perhaps the eldest was the least zealous. It does
indeed not unfrequently happen, that increasing years abate the fervour
of literary pursuits, from shewing us the vanity of mental labour,
and teaching us how little we can learn, and how limited must be our
knowledge even in its utmost possible range. We do not, however, design
to insinuate that Miss Darnley was far advanced in years, or that her
knowledge had reached, or even closely approached, the practical limits
of mortal acquirement. We are merely making the best apology we can for
the young lady’s but moderate thirst for literary distinction.
There was one however of Mrs Greendale’s party against whom no charge
of indifference to literature or science could be justly brought.
It was Peter Kipperson, Esq. This gentleman, though in middle life,
had not abated aught of his zeal for learning. He was a man of very
great intellectual ambition. His views were not confined to any one
branch of literature, or directed exclusively to any one science.
As an agriculturist he certainly took the lead in his county; and
being, as it was currently reported, “a capital scholar,” he was the
composer or compiler of all resolutions and petitions touching the
interest of corn-growers. His opinion was asked, and his expressions
quoted as authority on all matters connected with land, or stock, or
grain. If any ingenious mechanic had constructed or invented any new
machine, the invention was worth nothing till it had the sanction
and patronage of Mr Kipperson. But he was not a mere farmer: he was
also a man of letters. He had one of the largest libraries in the
neighbourhood; besides which he was a subscriber to a public library
in the metropolis, from whence he had all the new publications as
soon as they came out. He had read far more than Mr Darnley or Dr
Greendale: the former of whom he called a high priest, and the latter
a mere pedant. On the great men of the two villages, Lord Smatterton
of Smatterton, and Sir George Aimwell of Neverden, he looked down
with great contempt as very ignorant men; and though Lord Spoonbill
had been at Cambridge, Mr Kipperson was quite sure, from the obsolete
constitution of the universities, that nothing could be taught there
that was worth knowing. He therefore thought Lord Spoonbill a very
superficial and ignorant man. To the pursuits of literature Peter
Kipperson added a profound love of science. The plain farmers, when
they called upon this genius, were astonished at the very knowing
aspect which his library wore; seeing, that besides the numerous
volumes of elegantly bound books, which were ranged on shelves
surmounted with busts of Milton, Shakspeare, Cicero, &c. &c., there
were globes, maps, electrical machines, telescopes, air-pumps, casts
of skulls, chemical apparatus, and countless models of machines of
every description, from steam-engines down to mole-traps. The glories
of Peter are yet untold. Wearied as our readers may be with the
monotony of panegyric, they must, if they continue to be our readers,
undergo yet more, and be told, that Mr Kipperson was a great judge of
music. He could play on the flute and on the pianoforte; but he thought
nothing of his performance compared with his judgment. He had once at
the opera witnessed the performance of Don Giovanni, and from that
moment became a critic. Furthermore, Peter was a perfect gentleman,
and, to crown all, a man of patriotic principles;--though it has been
whispered that his politics were conveniently adapted to those of the
Earl of Smatterton and Sir George Aimwell. It does sometimes happen,
as some of our readers may know, that in some parts of Great Britain
the little gentry copy the politics of the great gentry or nobility of
their neighbourhood. Mr Kipperson, with all those amiable and estimable
qualities, was a single man. He consoled himself, however, with the
reflection that Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton were unmarried.
The above-named, with divers others, formed Mrs Greendale’s party;
and when they were assembled, the worthy lady found herself perplexed
and puzzled by the grandeur of her guests. There were three persons
present to whom she would fain have given, if it were possible, her
undivided attention. Lord Spoonbill was one of the three. His lordship,
however, did not seem disposed to draw very liberally on the attention
of the lady of the house; for, as soon as he entered the rectory
drawing-room, he lounged up to Mrs Greendale, whom he honored with a
nod, turned round to the Doctor, whom he recognised with a smile, said
to the Colonel, “How do ye do, Crop?” and then thew himself almost
at full length upon a sofa, as if those to whom he had addressed
himself were vanished, and as if there were no one else in the room.
By degrees, however, he condescended to recognise one, or two, or
more of the party. Of Mr Kipperson he asked the price of wheat, and
Mr Kipperson asked what his lordship thought of Mozart’s opera of Don
Giovanni. His lordship admired it prodigiously, but he condescended to
say very little on the subject; whether it was that he had but little
to say, or whether he thought that such an universal genius as Mr
Kipperson could not receive any new light from a Cambridge man. The
great agriculturist, finding that his lordship was not eloquent on the
subject of music, assailed him again on the subject of Don Juan, as
versified by Lord Byron, and his lordship being rather weary of the
company and questions of Mr Kipperson, stared him full in the face, and
with an affected smile, said:
“’Pon honour, Mr--Mr--I--I am not a reading man.”
Mr Kipperson thought his lordship somewhat rude, and perhaps might
have been disposed to challenge him, only he feared that he might be
disappointed, and hear his lordship exclaim,
“’Pon honour, Mr--Mr--I--I am not a fighting man.”
Lest by any perverseness of apprehension the interrogator of his
lordship might be induced to proceed in his unwelcome familiarities
of approach, the heir of Smatterton rose from the sofa and took his
station at the pianoforte, where Miss Primrose had been with much
persuasion vainly endeavouring to place Miss Martha Darnley. Now Lord
Spoonbill did not like to hear Miss Martha Darnley so well as he liked
to hear Miss Primrose; and the three reasons which determined him are
such as for their soundness must approve themselves to all our readers.
In the first place, the politics of Mr Darnley were opposed to the
politics of Smatterton castle; in the second place, Miss Martha Darnley
was not so pretty as Miss Primrose; and in the third place, Miss
Primrose was by far the best performer of the two.
It was a great relief therefore to his lordship that Miss Primrose was
absolutely compelled to take her place at the instrument, and it was
a great pleasure to him to see that when the leaves of Mozart’s Don
Giovanni were turned over there was a pause when the young lady came to
the duet of “_La ci darem_.”
“That is a beautiful duet, Miss Primrose,” said his lordship.
“Will your Lordship take a part in it?” replied Miss Primrose.
“With the greatest pleasure,” responded his lordship: and as his
lordship was speaking, Mr Kipperson approached the musical group, and
was about to repeat his well-known commentary on Mozart’s music, when,
at the instigation of Lord Spoonbill, the music began. He only made two
or three blunders through the piece, and Miss Primrose very mercifully
concealed them when she could, and accounted for them when she could
not conceal them.
In like manner his lordship went through several other duets, as
historians speak of battles being fought, “with various success.”
In like manner his lordship kept Miss Primrose engaged at the
instrument nearly the whole of the evening: so that no one else could
enjoy the use of the pianoforte, or be favoured with the company of
Miss Primrose, or the charms of his lordship’s conversation. But Mrs
Darnley, after long and anxiously watching an opportunity to speak to
Penelope, came near to the instrument, and whispered loud enough to be
overheard by Lord Spoonbill, “We understand that the Warley is arrived
off Portsmouth, and we shall no doubt have letters tomorrow or next
day.”
It was rude in Mrs Darnley to interrupt the musical people, and it was
condescending in Penelope not to be rudely inattentive, especially
as she was listening also to compliments from a lord. But Penelope
Primrose was one of those high-spirited young ladies who think nothing
of titles. She was thankful for the information which Mrs Darnley
communicated to her; but while she felt thankful for the matter she
was somewhat troubled by the manner of the information. There was an
expression in Lord Spoonbill’s countenance which signified that he not
only heard but understood the nature of the communication which was
thus made. Very true, it was nothing to his lordship, but still it was
not pleasant to Penelope to have this information conveyed to her in
the hearing of a third person. She therefore blushed most burningly.
Now Lord Spoonbill was quite as capable of behaving politely as of
behaving rudely; and he never did either the one or the other without
abundant reason and motive. It was not at this moment part of his
system to behave rudely. Very kindly therefore he took no notice of
the blushes of the young lady, and very naturally he spoke about Mrs
Darnley and the rector of Neverden. He spoke of them in such terms of
recommendation as were not best calculated to recommend them. This is
an ingenious artifice too well known to require explanation, and too
villanous to justify us in saying a single word that should contribute
to render the practice more facile. The language had an effect on
Penelope, of which she was scarcely aware. She had a feeling of
undefined and unaccountable uneasiness, and the very intelligence which
Mrs Darnley had communicated did not give her that unmingled pleasure
which she had anticipated. The evening passed off not so pleasantly as
the day had done.
While Miss Primrose was engaged at the pianoforte, Mrs Greendale was
endeavouring with all her powers to entertain Miss Spoonbill. In these
endeavours the poor lady laboured with more zeal than judgment. It
is a common, but very foolish, practice for little folks to assume
greatness, in order to recommend themselves to the great. It never
answers, nor is it likely that it should. For what is the use and
benefit of rank if it be not to separate and distinguish the superfine
part of the species from the general mass of mankind? And whence arises
the pleasure of this distinction but from its rarity. Who would care
to be a duke amidst a whole nation of dukes, or who feels himself
honoured by the title of esquire? Instead therefore of listening with
complacency to the harangues of Mrs Greendale, and the talk of her own
or her husband’s alliance to nobility, Miss Spoonbill most perversely
directed her conversation to the prospects of Penelope Primrose.
“Your niece has a most delightful voice, Mrs Greendale; I think it
a great pity that she does not take the advice of my cousin, the
Countess, and make use of her musical talents. She would come out under
very great patronage.”
“Perhaps so, madam,” replied Mrs Greendale rather hastily: “but as Miss
Primrose is the doctor’s relative, and not mine, I do not presume to
interfere with my advice as to the disposal of the young lady. Indeed
I do not know that there will be any absolute necessity for her having
recourse to any occupation.”
“I understand you, Mrs Greendale; but let me advise you as a friend
not to suffer any foolish expectations of that nature to prevent the
young woman from making use of her talents for her own maintenance.
Young women are dependent enough at best. It would be better for them
rather to increase than to diminish the means of making themselves
independent. It is not wise in young women to depend on the speculation
of marrying, for thus many poor things are forced into marriages which
are productive of anything but happiness. My cousin, the late Earl of
Smatterton, and his most excellent Countess, used always to give it
as their advice to young people, not to speculate on the chance of
marriage; and the present Countess is of the same opinion.”
Miss Spoonbill thereupon launched out more fully and freely into divers
discussions concerning portionless females, and administered much
advice, more valuable than welcome, to Mrs Greendale. We will put it
to any of our readers whether they would be greatly pleased, if, after
taking pains to procure the visiting countenance of a person of high
rank, the said personage, instead of visiting on terms of equality,
should presume to play the part of a dictator? Mrs Greendale was
therefore disappointed, and that most grievously.
Much more conversation than we have recorded passed at the rector of
Smatterton’s evening party, but we do not think it necessary to give
more to the world. For if by any accident such conversation should
find its way into a library for the people, it is possible that the
people would not thereby be very greatly edified, nor add much to the
reverence which they feel for the clerical order and profession.