"In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou
spokest of Pigrogromotus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of
Queubus; 't was very good i' faith."--SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK.
The progress of society, it has just been said, in what is termed a
"new country," is a little anomalous. At the commencement of a
settlement, there is much of that sort of kind feeling and mutual
interest, which men are apt to manifest towards each other, when they
are embarked in an enterprise of common hazards. The distance that is
unavoidably inseparable from education, habits and manners, is
lessened by mutual wants and mutual efforts; and the gentleman, even
while he may maintain his character and station, maintains them with
that species of good-fellowship and familiarity, that marks the
intercourse between the officer and the soldier, in an arduous
campaign. Men, and even women, break bread together, and otherwise
commingle, that, in different circumstances, would be strangers; the
hardy adventures and rough living of the forest, apparently lowering
the pretensions of the man of cultivation and mere mental resources,
to something very near the level of those of the man of physical
energy, and manual skill. In this rude intercourse, the parties meet,
as it might be, on a sort of neutral ground, one yielding some of his
superiority, and the other laying claims to an outward show of
equality, that he secretly knows, however, is the result of the
peculiar circumstances in which he is placed. In short, the state of
society is favourable to the claims of mere animal force, and
unfavourable to those of the higher qualities.
This period may be termed, perhaps, the happiest of the first century
of a settlement. The great cares of life are so engrossing and
serious, that small vexations are overlooked, and the petty
grievances that would make us seriously uncomfortable in a more
regular state of society, are taken as matters of course, or laughed
at as the regular and expected incidents of the day. Good-will
abounds; neighbour comes cheerfully to the aid of neighbour; and life
has much of the reckless gaiety, careless association, and buoyant
merriment of childhood. It is found that they who have passed through
this probation, usually look back to it with regret, and are fond of
dwelling on the rude scenes and ridiculous events that distinguish
the history of a new settlement, as the hunter is known to pine for
the forest.
To this period of fun, toil, neighbourly feeling and adventure,
succeeds another, in which society begins to marshal itself, and the
ordinary passions have sway. Now it is, that we see the struggles for
place, the heart-burnings and jealousies of contending families, and
the influence of mere money. Circumstances have probably established
the local superiority of a few beyond all question, and the
conditioese serves as a goal for the rest to aim at. The learned
professions, the ministry included, or what, by courtesy, are so
called, take precedence, as a matter of course, next to wealth,
however, when wealth is at all supported by appearances. Then
commence those gradations of social station, that set institutions at
defiance, and which as necessarily follow civilization, as tastes and
habits are a consequence of indulgence.
This is, perhaps, the least inviting condition of society that
belongs to any country that can claim to be free and removed from
barbarism. The tastes are too uncultivated to exercise any essential
influence; and when they do exist, it is usually with the pretension
and effort that so commonly accompany infant knowledge. The struggle
is only so much the more severe, in consequence of the late _pèle
mèle_, while men lay claim to a consideration that would seem beyond
their reach, in an older and more regulated community. It is during
this period that manners suffer the most, since they want the nature
and feeling of the first condition, while they are exposed to the
rudest assaults of the coarse-minded and vulgar; for, as men usually
defer to a superiority that is long established, there being a charm
about antiquity that is sometimes able to repress the passions, in
older communities the marshalling of time quietly regulates what is
here the subject of strife.
What has just been said, depends on a general and natural principle,
perhaps; but the state of society we are describing has some features
peculiar to itself. The civilization of America, even in its older
districts, which supply the emigrants to the newer regions, is
unequal; one state possessing a higher level than another. Coming as
it does, from different parts of this vast country, the population of
a new settlement, while it is singularly homogenous for the
circumstances, necessarily brings with it its local peculiarities. If
to these elements be added a sprinkling of Europeans of various
nations and conditions, the effects of the commingling, and the
temporary social struggles that follow, will occasion no surprise.
The third and last condition of society in a "new country," is that
in which the influence of the particular causes enumerated ceases,
and men and things come within the control of more general and
regular laws. The effect, of course, is to leave the community
possession of a civilization that conforms to that of the whole
region, be it higher or be it lower, and with the division into
castes that are more or less rigidly maintained, according to
circumstances.
The periods, as the astronomers call the time taken in a celestial
revolution, of the two first of these epochs in the history of a
settlement, depend very much on its advancement in wealth and in
numbers. In some places, the pastoral age, or that of good
fellowship, continues for a whole life, to the obvious retrogression
of the people, in most of the higher qualities, but to their manifest
advantage, however, in the pleasures of the time being; while, in
others, it passes away rapidly, like the buoyant animal joys, that
live their time, between fourteen and twenty.
The second period is usually of longer duration, the migratory habits
of the American people keeping society more unsettled than might
otherwise prove to be the case. It may be said never to cease
entirely until the great majority of the living generation are
natives of the region, knowing no other means of comparison than
those under which they have passed their days. Even when this is the
case, there is commonly so large an infusion of the birds of passage,
men who are adventurers in quest of advancement, and who live without
the charities of a neighbourhood, as they may be said almost to live
without a home, that there is to be found, for a long time, a middle
state of society, during which it may well be questioned whether a
community belongs to the second or to the third of the periods named.
Templeton was properly in this equivocal condition, for while the
third generation of the old settlers were in active life, so many
passers-by came and went, that the influence of the latter nearly
neutralized that of time and the natural order of things. Its
population was pretty equally divided between the descendants of the
earlier inhabitants, and those who flitted like swallows and other
migratory birds. All of those who had originally entered the region
in the pride of manhood, and had been active in converting the
wilderness into the abodes of civilized men, if they had not been
literally gathered to their fathers, in a physical sense had been
laid, the first of their several races, beneath those sods that were
to cover the heads of so many of their descendants. A few still
remained among those who entered the wilderness in young manhood, but
the events of the first period we have designated, and which we have
imperfectly recorded in another work, were already passing into
tradition. Among these original settlers some portion of the feeling
that had distinguished their earliest communion with their neighbours
yet continued, and one of their greatest delights was to talk of the
hardships and privations of their younger days, as the veteran loves
to discourse of his marches, battles, scars, and sieges. It would be
too much to say that these persons viewed the more ephemeral part of
the population with distrust, for their familiarity with changes
accustomed them to new faces; but they had a secret inclination for
each other, preferred those who could enter the most sincerely into
their own feelings, and naturally loved that communion best, where
they found the most sympathy. To this fragment of the community
belonged nearly all there was to be found of that sort of sentiment
which is connected with locality; adventure, with them, supplying the
place of time; while the natives of the spot, wanting in the
recollections that had so many charms for their fathers, were not yet
brought sufficiently within the influence of traditionary interest,
to feel that hallowed sentiment in its proper force. As opposed in
feeling to these relics of the olden time, were the birds of passage
so often named, a numerous and restless class, that, of themselves,
are almost sufficient to destroy whatever there is of poetry, or of
local attachment, in any region where they resort.
In Templeton and its adjacent district, however, the two hostile
influences might be said to be nearly equal, the descendants of the
fathers of the country beginning to make a manly stand against the
looser sentiment, or the want of sentiment, that so singularly
distinguishes the migratory bands. The first did begin to consider
the temple in which their fathers had worshipped more hallowed than
strange altars; the sods that covered their fathers' heads more
sacred than the clods that were upturned by the plough; and the
places of their childhood and childish sports dearer than the highway
trodden by a nameless multitude.
Such, then, were the elements of the society into which we have now
ushered the reader, and with which it will be our duty to make him
better acquainted, as we proceed in the regular narration of the
incidents of our tale.
The return of the Effinghams, after so long an absence, naturally
produced a sensation in so small a place, and visiters began to
appear in the Wigwam as soon as propriety would allow. Many false
rumours prevailed, quite as a matter of course; and Eve, it was
reported, was on the point of being married to no less than three of
the inmates of her father's house, within the first ten days, viz:
Sir George Templemore, Mr. Powis, and Mr. Bragg; the latter story
taking its rise in some precocious hopes that had escaped the
gentleman himself, in the "excitement" of helping to empty a bottle
of bad Breton wine, that was dignified with the name of champagne.
But these tales revived and died so often, in a state of society in
which matrimony is so general a topic with the young of the gentler
sex, that they brought with them their own refutation.
The third day, in particular, after the arrival of our party, was a
reception day at the Wigwam; the gentlemen and ladies making it a
point to be at home and disengaged, after twelve o'clock, in order to
do honour to their guests. One of the first who made his appearance
was a Mr. Howel, a bachelor of about the same age as Mr. Effingham,
and a man of easy fortune and quiet habits. Nature had done more
towards making Mr. Howel a gentleman, than either cultivation or
association; for he had passed his entire life, with very immaterial
exceptions, in the valley of Templeton, where, without being what
could be called a student, or a scholar, he had dreamed away his
existence in an indolent communication with the current literature of
the day. He was fond of reading, and being indisposed to contention,
or activity of any sort, his mind had admitted the impressions of
what he perused, as the stone receives a new form by the constant
fall of drops of water. Unfortunately for Mr. Howel, he understood no
language but his mother tongue; and, as all his reading was
necessarily confined to English books, he had gradually, and unknown
to himself, in his moral nature at least, got to be a mere reflection
of those opinions, prejudices, and principles, if such a word can
properly be used for such a state of the mind, that it had suited the
interests or passions of England to promulgate by means of the press.
A perfect _bonne foi_ prevailed in all his notions; and though a very
modest man by nature, so very certain was he that his authority was
always right, that he was a little apt to be dogmatical on such
points as he thought his authors appeared to think settled. Between
John Effingham and Mr. Howel, there were constant amicable skirmishes
in the way of discussion; for, while the latter was so dependent,
limited in knowledge by unavoidable circumstances, and disposed to an
innocent credulity, the first was original in his views, accustomed
to see and think for himself, and, moreover, a little apt to estimate
his own advantages at their full value.
"Here comes our good neighbour, and my old school-fellow, Tom Howel."
said Mr. Effingham, looking out at a window, and perceiving the
person mentioned crossing the little lawn in front of the house, by
following a winding foot-path--"as kind-hearted a man, Sir George
Templemore, as exists; one who is really American, for he has
scarcely quitted the county half-a-dozen times in his life, and one
of the honestest fellows of my acquaintance."
"Ay," put in John Effingham, "as real an American as any man can be,
who uses English spectacles for all he looks at, English opinions for
all he says, English prejudices for all he condemns, and an English
palate for all he tastes. American, quotha! The man is no more
American than the Times' newspaper, or Charing Cross! He actually
made a journey to New-York last war, to satisfy himself with his own
eyes that a Yankee frigate had really brought an Englishman into
port."
"His English predilections will be no fault in my eyes," said the
baronet, smiling--"and I dare say we shall be excellent friends."
"I am sure Mr. Howel is a very agreeable man," added Grace--"of all
in your Templeton _côterie_, he is my greatest favourite."
"Oh! I foresee a tender intimacy between Templemore and Howel,"
rejoined John Effingham; "and sundry wordy wars between the latter
and Miss Effingham."
"In this you do me injustice, cousin Jack. I remember Mr. Howel well,
and kindly; for he was ever wont to indulge my childish whims, when a
girl."
"The man is a second Burchell, and, I dare say never came to the
Wigwam when you were a child, without having his pockets stuffed with
cakes, or _bonbons_."
The meeting was cordial, Mr. Howel greeting the gentlemen like a warm
friend, and expressing great delight at the personal improvements
that had been made in Eve, between the ages of eight and twenty. John
Effingham was no more backward than the others, for he, too, liked
their simple-minded, kind-hearted, but credulous neighbour.
"You are welcome back--you are welcome back," added Mr. Howel,
blowing his nose, in order to conceal the tears that were gathering
in his eyes. "I did think of going to New-York to meet you, but the
distance at my time of life is very serious. Age, gentlemen, seems to
be a stranger to you."
"And yet we, who are both a few months older than yourself, Howel,"
returned Mr. Effingham, kindly, "have managed to overcome the
distance you have just mentioned, in order to come and see _you!_"
"Ay, you are great travellers, gentlemen, very great travellers, and
are accustomed to motion.--Been quite as far as Jerusalem, I hear!"
"Into its very gates, my good friend; and I wish, with all my heart,
we had had you in our company. Such a journey might cure you of the
home-malady."
"I am a fixture, and never expect to look upon the ocean, now. I did,
at one period of my life, fancy such an event might happen, but I
have finally abandoned all hope on that subject. Well, Miss Eve, of
all the countries in which you have dwelt, to which do you give the
preference?"
"I think Italy is the general favourite," Eve answered, with a
friendly smile; "although there are some agreeable things peculiar to
almost every country."
"Italy!--Well, that astonishes me a good deal! I never knew there was
any thing particularly interesting about Italy! I should have
expected _you_ to say, England."
"England is a fine country, too, certainly; but it wants many things
that Italy enjoys."
"Well, now, what?" said Mr. Howel, shifting his legs from one knee to
the other, in order to be more convenient to listen, or, if
necessary, to object. "What _can_ Italy possess, that England does
not enjoy in a still greater degree?"
"Its recollections, for one thing, and all that interest which time
and great events throw around a region."
"And is England wanting in recollections and great events? Are there
not the Conqueror? or, if you will, King Alfred? and Queen Elizabeth,
and Shakspeare--think of Shakspeare, young lady--and Sir Walter
Scott, and the Gun-Powder Plot; and Cromwell, Oliver Cromwell, my
dear Miss Eve; and Westminster Abbey, and London Bridge, and George
IV., the descendant of a line of real kings,--what, in the name of
Heaven, can Italy possess, to equal the interest one feels in such
things as these?'
"They are very interesting no doubt;" said Eve, endeavouring not to
smile--"but Italy has its relics of former ages too; you forget the
Cæsars."
"Very good sort of persons for barbarous times, I dare say, but what
can they be to the English monarchs? I would rather look upon a _bonâ
fide_ English king, than see all the Cæsars that ever lived. I never
can think any man a real king but the king of England!"
"Not King Solomon!" cried John Effingham.
"Oh! he was a Bible king, and one never thinks of them. Italy! well,
this I did not expect from your father's daughter! Your great-great-
great-grandfather must have been an Englishman born, Mr, Effingham?"
"I have reason to think he was, sir."
"And Milton, and Dryden, and Newton, and Locke! These are prodigious
names, and worth all the Cæsars put together. And Pope, too; what
have they got in Italy to compare to Pope?"
"They have at least _the_ Pope," said Eve, laughing.
"And, then, there are the Boar's Head in East-Cheap; and the Tower;
and Queen Anne, and all the wits of her reign; and--and--and Titus
Oates; and Bosworth field; and Smithfield, where the martyrs were
burned, and a thousand more spots and persons of intense interest in
Old England!"
"Quite true," said John Effingham, with an air of sympathy--"but,
Howel, you have forgotten Peeping Tom of Coventry, and the climate!"
"And Holyrood-House; and York-Minster; and St Paul's;" continued the
worthy Mr. Howel, too much bent on a catalogue of excellencies, that
to him were sacred, to heed the interruption, "and, above all,
Windsor Castle. What is there in the world to equal Windsor Castle as
a royal residence?"
Want of breath now gave Eve an opportunity to reply, and she seized
it with an eagerness that she was the first to laugh at herself,
afterwards.
"Caserta is no mean house, Mr. Howel; and, in my poor judgment, there
is more real magnificence in its great stair-case, than in all
Windsor Castle united, if you except the chapel."
"But, St. Paul's!"
"Why, St. Peter's may be set down, quite fairly, I think, for its
_pendant_ at least."
"True, the Catholics _do_ say so;" returned Mr. Howel, with the
deliberation one uses when he greatly distrusts his own concession;
"but I have always considered it one of their frauds. I don't think
there _can_ be any thing finer than St. Paul's. Then there are the
noble ruins of England! _They_, you must admit, are unrivalled."
"The Temple of Neptune, at Pæstum, is commonly thought an interesting
ruin, Mr. Howel."
"Yes, yes, for a _temple_, I dare say; though I do not remember to
have ever heard of it before. But no temple can ever compare to a
ruined _abbey_ /"
"Taste is an arbitrary thing, Tom Howel, as you and I know when as
boys we quarrelled about the beauty of our ponies," said Mr.
Effingham, willing to put an end to a discussion that he thought a
little premature, after so long an absence. "Here are two young
friends who shared the hazards of our late passage with us, and to
whom, in a great degree, we owe our present happy security, and I am
anxious to make you acquainted with them. This is our countryman, Mr.
Powis, and this is an English friend, who, I am certain, will be
happy to know so warm an admirer of his own country--Sir George
Templemore."
Mr. Howel had never before seen a titled Englishman, and he was taken
so much by surprise that he made his salutations rather awkwardly. As
both the young men, however, met him with the respectful ease that
denotes familiarity with the world, he soon recovered his self-
possession.
"I hope you have brought back with you a sound American heart, Miss
Eve," resumed the guest, as soon as this little interruption had
ceased. "We have had sundry rumours of French Marquisses, and German
Barons; but I have, all along, trusted too much to your patriotism to
believe you would marry a foreigner."
"I hope you except Englishmen," cried Sir George, gaily: "we are
almost the same people."
"I am proud to hear you say so, sir. Nothing flatters me more than to
be thought English; and I certainly should not have accused Miss
Effingham of a want of love of country, had----"
"She married half-a-dozen Englishmen," interrupted John Effingham,
who saw that the old theme was in danger of being revived. "But,
Howel, you have paid me no compliments on the changes in the house. I
hope they are to your taste."
"A little too French, Mr. John."
"French!--There is not a French feature in the whole animal. What has
put such a notion into your head?"
"It is the common opinion, and I confess I should like the building
better were it less continental."
"Why, my old friend, it is a nondescript--original--Effingham upon
Doolittle, if you will; and, as for models, it is rather more
_English_ than any thing else."
"Well, Mr. John, I am glad to hear this, for I do confess to a
disposition rather to like the house. I am dying to know, Miss Eve,
if you saw all our distinguished contemporaries when in
Europe?--_That_ to me, would be one of the greatest delights of
travelling!"
"To say that we saw them _all_, might be too much; though we
certainly did meet with many."
"Scott, of course."
"Sir Walter we had the pleasure of meeting, a few times, in London."
"And Southey, and Coleridge, and Wordsworth, and Moore, and Bulwer,
and D'Israeli, and Rogers, and Campbell, and the grave of Byron, and
Horace Smith, and Miss Landon, and Barry Cornwall, and--"
"_Cum multis aliis_" put in John Effingham, again, by way of
arresting the torrent of names. "Eve saw many of these, and, as Tubal
told Shylock, 'we often came where we did hear' of the rest. But you
say nothing, friend Tom, of Goethe, and Tieck, and Schlegel, and La
Martine, Chateaubriant, Hugo, Delavigne, Mickiewicz, Nota, Manzoni,
Niccolini, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c."
Honest, well-meaning Mr. Howel, listened to the catalogue that the
other ran volubly over, in silent wonder; for, with the exception of
one or two of these distinguished men, he had never even heard of
them; and, in the simplicity of his heart, unconsciously to himself,
he had got to believe that there was no great personage still living,
of whom he did not know something.
"Ah, here comes young Wenham, by way of preserving the equilibrium,"
resumed John Effingham, looking out of a window--"I rather think you
must have forgotten him, Ned, though you remember his father, beyond
question."
Mr. Effingham and his cousin went out into the hall to receive the
new guest, with whom the latter had become acquainted while
superintending the repairs of the Wigwam.
Mr. Wenham was the son of a successful lawyer in the county, and,
being an only child, he had also succeeded to an easy independence.
His age, however, brought him rather into the generation to which Eve
belonged, than into that of the father; and, if Mr. Howel was a
reflection, or rather a continuation, of all the provincial notions
that America entertained of England forty years ago, Mr. Wenham might
almost be said to belong to the opposite school, and to be as ultra-
American, as his neighbour was ultra-British.--If there is _lajeune
France_, there is also _la jeune Amerique_, although the votaries of
the latter march with less hardy steps than the votaries of the
first. Mr. Wenham fancied himself a paragon of national independence,
and was constantly talking of American excellencies, though the
ancient impressions still lingered in his moral system, as men look
askance for the ghosts which frightened their childhood on crossing a
church-yard in the dark. John Effingham knew the _penchant_ of the
young man, and when he said that he came happily to preserve the
equilibrium, he alluded to this striking difference in the characters
of their two friends.
The introductions and salutations over, we shall resume the
conversation that succeeded in the drawing-room.
"You must be much gratified, Miss Effingham," observed Mr. Wenham,
who, like a true American, being a young man himself, supposed it _de
rigueur_ to address a young lady in preference to any other
present,--"with the great progress made by _our_ country since you
went abroad."
Eve simply answered that her extreme youth, when she left home, had
prevented her from retaining any precise notions on such subjects.
"I dare say it is all very true," she added, "but one, like myself,
who remembers only older countries, is, I think, a little more apt to
be struck with the deficiencies, than with what may, in truth, be
improvements, though they still fall short of excellence."
Mr. Wenham looked vexed, or indignant would be a better word, but he
succeeded in preserving his coolness--a thing that is not always easy
to one of provincial habits and provincial education, when he finds
his own _beau idéal_ lightly estimated by others.
"Miss Effingham must discover a thousand imperfections." said Mr.
Howel, "coming, as she does, directly from England. That music,
now,"--alluding to the sounds of a flute that were heard through the
open windows, coming from the adjacent village--"must be rude enough
to her ear, after the music of London."
"The _street_ music of London is certainly among the best, if not the
very best, in Europe," returned Eve, with a glance of the eye at the
baronet, that caused him to smile, "and I think this fairly belongs
to the class, being so freely given to the neighbourhood."
"Have you read the articles signed Minerva, in the Hebdomad, Miss
Effingham," inquired Mr. Wenham, who was determined to try the young
lady on a point of sentiment, having succeeded so ill in his first
attempt to interest her--"they are generally thought to be a great
acquisition to American literature."
"Well, Wenham, you are a fortunate man," interposed Mr. Howel, "if
you can find any literature in America, to add to, or to substract
from. Beyond almanacs, reports of cases badly got up, and newspaper
verses, I know nothing that deserves such a name."
"We may not print on as fine paper, Mr. Howel, or do up the books in
as handsome binding as other people," said Mr. Wenham, bridling and
looking grave, "but so far as sentiments are concerned, or sound
sense, American literature need turn its back on no literature of the
day."
"By the way, Mr. Effingham, you were in Russia; did you happen to see
the Emperor?"
"I had that pleasure, Mr. Howel."
"And is he really the monster we have been taught to believe him?".
"Monster!" exclaimed the upright Mr. Effingham, fairly recoiling a
step in surprise. "In what sense a monster, my worthy friend? surely
not in a physical?"
"I do not know that. I have somehow got the notion he is any thing
but handsome. A mean, butchering, bloody-minded looking little chap,
I'll engage."
"You are libelling one of the finest-looking men of the age."
"I think I would submit it to a jury. I cannot believe, after what I
have read of him in the English publications, that he is so very
handsome."
"But, my good neighbour, these English publications must be wrong;
prejudiced perhaps, or even malignant."
"Oh! I am not the man to be imposed on in that way. Besides, what
motive could an English writer have for belying an Emperor of
Russia?"
"Sure enough, what motive!" exclaimed John Effingham.--"You have your
answer, Ned!"
"But you will remember, Mr. Howel," Eve interposed, "that we have
_seen_ the Emperor Nicholas."
"I dare say, Miss Eve, that your gentle nature was disposed to judge
him as kindly as possible; and, then, I think most Americans, ever
since the treaty of Ghent, have been disposed to view all Russians
too favourably. No, no; I am satisfied with the account of the
English; they live much nearer to St. Petersburg than we do, and they
are more accustomed, too, to give accounts of such matters."
"But living nearer, Tom Howel," cried Mr. Effingham, with unusual
animation, "in such a case, is of no avail, unless one lives near
enough to see with his own eyes."
"Well--well--my good friend, we will talk of this another time. I
know your disposition to look at every body with lenient eyes. I will
now wish you all a good morning, and hope soon to see you again. Miss
Eve, I have one word to say, if you dare trust yourself with a youth
of fifty, for a minute, in the library."
Eve rose cheerfully, and led the way to the room her father's visiter
had named. When within it, Mr. Howel shut the door carefully, and
then with a sort of eager delight, he exclaimed--
"For heaven's sake, my dear young lady, tell me who are these two
strange gentlemen in the other room."
"Precisely the persons my father mentioned, Mr. Howel; Mr. Paul
Powis, and Sir George Templemore."
"Englishmen, of course!"
"Sir George Templemore is, of course, as you say, but we may boast of
Mr. Powis as a countryman."
"Sir George Templemore!--What a superb-looking young fellow!"
"Why, yes," returned Eve, laughing; "he, at least, you will admit is
a handsome man."
"He is wonderful!--The other, Mr.--a--a--a--I forget what you called
him--he is pretty well too; but this Sir George is a princely youth."
"I rather think a majority of observers would give the preference to
the appearance of Mr. Powis," said Eve, struggling to be steady, but
permitting a blush to heighten her colour, in despite of the effort.
"What could have induced him to come up among these mountains--an
English baronet!" resumed Mr. Howel, without thinking of Eve's
confusion. "Is he a real lord?"
"Only a little one, Mr. Howel. You heard what my father said of our
having been fellow-travellers."
"But what _does_ he think of us. I am dying to know what such a man
_really_ thinks of us?"
"It is not always easy to discover what such men _really_ think;
although I am inclined to believe that he is disposed to think rather
favourably of some of us."
"Ay, of you, and your father, and Mr. John. You have travelled, and
are more than half European; but what _can_ he think of those who
have never left America?"
"Even of some of those," returned Eve, smiling, "I suspect he thinks
partially."
"Well, I am glad of that. Do you happen to know his opinion of the
Emperor Nicholas?"
"Indeed. I do not remember to have heard him mention the Emperor's
name; nor do I think he has ever seen him."
"That is extraordinary! Such a man should have seen every thing, and
know every thing; but I'll engage, at the bottom, he does know all
about him. If you happen to have any old English newspapers, as
wrappers, or by any other accident, let me beg them of you. I care
not how old they are. An English journal fifty years old, is more
interesting than one of ours wet from the press."
Eve promised to send him a package, when they shook hands and parted.
As she was crossing the hall, to rejoin the party, John Effingham
stopped her.
"Has Howel made proposals?" the gentleman inquired, in an affected
whisper.
"None, cousin Jack, beyond an offer to read the old English
newspapers I can send him."
"Yes, yes, Tom Howel will swallow all the nonsense that is _timbré à
Londres_."
"I confess a good deal of surprise at finding a respectable and
intelligent man so weak-minded as to give credit to such authorities,
or to form his serious opinions on information derived from such
sources."
"You may be surprised, Eve, at hearing so frank avowals of the
weakness; but, as for the weakness itself, you are now in a country
for which England does all the thinking, except on subjects that
touch the current interests of the day."
"Nay, I will not believe this! If it were true, how came we
independent of her--where did we get spirit to war against her."
"The man who has attained his majority is independent of his father's
legal control, without being independent of the lessons he was taught
when a child. The soldier sometimes mutinies, and after the contest
is over, he is usually the most submissive man of the regiment."
"All this to me is very astonishing! I confess that a great deal has
struck me unpleasantly in this way, since our return; especially in
ordinary society; but I never could have supposed it had reached to
the pass in which I see it existing in our good neighbour Howel."
"You have witnessed one of the effects, in a matter of no great
moment to ourselves; but, as time and years afford the means of
observation and comparison, you will perceive the effects in matters
of the last moment, in a national point of view. It is in human
nature to undervalue the things with which we are familiar, and to
form false estimates of those which are remote, either by time, or by
distance. But, go into the drawing-room, and, in young Wenham, you
will find one who fancies himself a votary of a new school, although
his prejudices and mental dependence are scarcely less obvious than
those of poor Tom Howel."
The arrival of more company, among whom were several ladies,
compelled Eve to defer an examination of Mr. Wenham's peculiarities
to another opportunity. She found many of her own sex, whom she had
left children, grown into womanhood, and not a few of them at a
period of life when they should be cultivating their physical and
moral powers, already oppressed with the cares and feebleness that
weigh so heavily on the young American wife.