“A was an archer, and shot at a frog.”
ANON.
The residence of Sir Andrew Featherstone was called Hovenden Lodge;
why it was called a lodge we cannot say. It was a large plain house,
situated in a small level park. The hand of improvement had been
very busy with it, but the genius of propriety had not presided over
the improvements. Several different styles of architecture had been
introduced, and to very ill effect; for the very square broad-sided
form of the building rendered it unsusceptible of decoration. But Sir
Andrew cared nothing about it--he left all those matters to the ladies,
who gave directions according to their own taste or lack of taste;
and all the return which he made for their architectural diligence
and their skilful improvements was to laugh at what he called their
absurdities. The usual order was quite reversed at Hovenden Lodge; for
while Lady Featherstone and her two daughters, Lucy and Isabella, were
drawing plans, or marching about the park, and pointing out to the
architect the improvements which they thought desirable, Sir Andrew was
standing by the kitchen fire and lecturing the cook, or translating
aloud recipes from his favorite French cookery-book, which was the
only book that he had ever purchased; and very highly did he value it,
fancying that few persons in this kingdom were aware of its existence.
He often however had, or we should more properly say, might have had,
the mortification of finding that he had been translating from French
into English that which had been previously translated from English
into French; for whenever his knowing lady reminded him that any recipe
was already in the English cookery-books, he would always contend
for or discover some delicate variation which gave the French the
advantage. He thought, too, that there was a peculiar piquancy in the
French terms, and that there was a particular relish in foreign names,
which he always took care to utter, but which his obstinately English
organs of speech rendered mightily amusing in their utterance.
The greatest evil of the archery-meeting in Sir Andrew’s opinion was,
that it must be attended only with a cold collation, and that must
be in a marquee. It had been discussed repeatedly, but as frequently
decided against him, that it was absolutely impossible to have a hot
dinner. He did not like it, but he bore it very good-temperedly; and
was brimful of jokes, ready to let fly with every arrow.
Lady Featherstone, who was never so happy as when she was patronising,
was delighted with the thought of the long table under the marquee,
and her own self smiling, nodding, and bowing most gracefully to every
body: she could undergo a cold dinner every day of her life, for the
happiness of thinking that every body said, “What a charming woman is
Lady Featherstone!”
The young ladies were in proud and confident expectation of winning
the prize; but in still more proud and more confident expectation
of exhibiting their elegant selves to an admiring multitude. This,
indeed, is the great beauty of archery; it is an _elegant_ exercise,
or in other words, it gives an opportunity to young ladies to exhibit
themselves in elegant or attractive attitudes; and many a young woman
who would have scarcely any chance of a display, hereby acquires a
right to be stared at most perseveringly and inveterately. She may be
as long as she pleases taking her aim; and if she fears that she shall
not hit the target, she may take an aim elsewhere.
And it is a very pretty thing too for young gentlemen in the last year
of being at school, or in the first of their undergraduateship. Dressed
in the archery uniform, they look so very much like Robin Hood: they go
back to old times in almost more than imagination; but more especially,
they have an opportunity of playing off the _polites_. At all events,
it is a very innocent amusement; and if properly managed by the
lady-patroness, it may rise into something of a matter of importance.
If any of the party be in possession of the powers of eloquence, they
may draw up a very pretty report of the meeting; and the editors of
country papers will feel much honored by inserting the said report; and
there will be a very pretty sprinkling of very pretty compliments to
the very pretty young ladies, who may be compared to Diana’s nymphs;
and there may be quotations from the old songs about Robin Hood and
Maid Marian; and very pretty talk about the greenwood shade and the
merry horn. Then the editor of the newspaper sells an extra number of
papers, which are sent in different directions to distant friends.
The display of beauty and fashion which was exhibited in Hovenden Park
on the above-named occasion, bids defiance by its brilliancy to our
powers of description. Sir Andrew himself, though his occupation was
gone for that day at least, endured with a very good grace his absence
from the kitchen; and was prepared to hear and say all that was polite,
together with a little that was satirical. Before the business of the
day began, he said in the hearing of the exhibitors: “Where shall I
stand to be most out of the way; I think I had better take my station
in front of the target.”
With many such sayings he entertained the young people; and some of
the young ladies laughed so heartily at his attempts at humor, that
they could hardly direct the arrows; and then, when any one shot very
wide of the mark, he smilingly said, “Well done, my good girl, that’s
right, take care you don’t spoil the target.” And notwithstanding all
the frowns and rebukes of Lady Featherstone, the facetious baronet
continued his interruptions much to the amusement and a little to the
annoyance of the party.
We should not have mentioned this crotchet of Sir Andrew’s, but that
we think it may be not amiss to take this opportunity of observing
that persevering witticisms, forced out in rapid succession on all
occasions, and a series of smart sayings, good, bad, and indifferent,
uttered without abatement, may often excite the outward and visible
sign of merriment long after they have ceased to be agreeable. For
laughter is not always the sign of satisfaction, any more than tears
are always a token of sorrow. There is no man, however stupid, who
cannot occasionally say a good thing; and very few, if any, can
utter real wit in every sentence; and miserable is the annoyance of
everlasting efforts at facetiousness. It is only tolerable in those who
are very young or very weak.
But as one great object of archery-meetings is display, we should be
guilty of injustice in omitting to notice a young lady of the party,
who came with the full intention of eclipsing every one there;--and she
succeeded. We refer to Miss Celestina Sampson. She came accompanied
by her father, Sir Gilbert Sampson; who, though a new man, was very
well received by Sir Andrew. Miss Sampson was not a beauty, but was
good-looking and rather pretty; of middle stature, light complexion,
and fine natural colour; good-humored and cheerful; ambitious of
elegance, but not well-informed as to the means; critical as to the
externals of behaviour, and much exposed herself to the same kind of
criticism; sadly afraid of vulgarity, though often sinning through
mere ignorance. Her appearance and dress attracted, as she designed,
universal attention; but not, as she hoped, universal admiration. She
had studied costume with more zeal than taste; and vibrating between
the costume of Diana and Maid Marian, she at last appeared, if like any
thing at all, a tawdry imitation of Fatima, in the play of Blue-beard.
As Sir Gilbert Sampson was also present, we may say a word or two
of him. He had been a soap-boiler. True; but what of that?--he had
retired from business, and had washed his hands of soap. He had been
a soap-boiler. True; but whose fault was that? Not his own: he had no
innate, natural, violent, irresistible, unextinguishable propensity
for boiling soap; for if he had, he would never have relinquished the
pursuit. The fault was his father’s; for had the father of Sir Gilbert
been a duke, Sir Gilbert would never have been a soap-boiler. As to the
rest, Sir Gilbert Sampson was a man of good understanding, of extensive
knowledge, possessing strong natural powers of mind, and altogether
free from every species of affectation.
Lady Sampson had, while she lived, governed by permission of her lord
and master. She had dictated concerning the petty details of life;
and after her death, her daughter reigned in her stead. Sir Gilbert
never troubled himself about trifles; but Miss Sampson took all that
care entirely off her father’s hands. The pleasure of his life was the
company of a few old acquaintances; but he tolerated parties when Miss
Sampson could manage to assemble them.
And this was not a difficulty, even though Sir Gilbert had been a
soap-boiler; for his cook was not a soap-boiler, and his fishmonger was
not a soap-boiler, and his wine merchant was not a soap-boiler. Sir
Gilbert’s dinners were very excellent; and those who partook of them
praised them much, and did not say a word about soap while they were at
dinner; and that was very kind, and exceedingly condescending: for it
is a piece of great presumption in a man who has acquired a property
by honest industry to give sumptuous entertainments to those who are
spending or who have spent what their ancestors earned for them.
Enough for the present of Sir Gilbert Sampson. Be it however
observed by the way, that our good and facetious friend, Sir Andrew
Featherstone, regarded Sir Gilbert without any feeling of aristocratic
pride, and so did many others of his acquaintance; and that even the
Hon. Philip Martindale behaved very politely to him, inasmuch as he was
occasionally under apprehension that it might be desirable for him
to disencumber and improve the Martindale estate by the means of Sir
Gilbert’s wealth. At this meeting, owing to previous matters already
recorded, the idea of the possibility of Miss Sampson becoming Mrs.,
and, in process of time, Lady Martindale, took very strong hold of the
young gentleman’s imagination. He therefore, without being aware of
any difference in his manner, paid very extraordinary attention to Sir
Gilbert; and as the young lady observed this, and was rather ambitious
of the honor of so high an alliance, and as she thought that the best
way to make a conquest, or to secure one already made, was to make
herself agreeable; and as she thought that the best way to make herself
agreeable was to put herself very much in the way of the person to
whom she wished to be agreeable, and to talk to him and listen to
his talk, and smile at what he said if he seemed to think it witty,
and to manifest that her attention was more taken up with him than
with any one else: Miss Sampson acted upon this principle, but in the
over-officiousness of her zeal carried her system so far as to make it
almost a persecution.
As to the effect thereby produced upon the Hon. Philip Martindale, very
little if any progress was made in his affections. He was accustomed
to homage and attention, and took it as a matter of course; he had
experienced quite as much attention from the friends of ladies of
higher rank than Miss Sampson; and the charms of the young lady’s
person or conversation were nothing to him in his matrimonial
speculations. If Mr. John Martindale had been a man of infirm health,
and likely soon to decide the question as to who should possess his
large property, Philip Martindale would not have had any thought
whatever of an alliance so much beneath the dignity of his rank and
the purity of his blood; or were the old gentleman a little less
capricious, or had the young gentleman been a little more prudent in
the management of his affairs, then Miss Sampson might have had the
beauty of a Venus, the wisdom of a Minerva, or the wealth of Crœsus,
and these qualities would have made no impression. On the other hand,
under the then present circumstances, Miss Sampson needed not to
take any pains to render herself agreeable; for had her person been
deformed, and her mind that of an idiot, yet her father, by the
accumulation of a large fortune, had done quite enough to make her
perfectly agreeable.
And yet, notwithstanding all this confession which we have made for
Mr. Philip, we would not have our readers to imagine that the young
gentleman was devoid of good qualities or good feelings altogether;
he might not have been so candid in his confession for himself as we
have been for him, but he was not altogether aware of the influence
of circumstances upon his mind. He was placed in a certain rank in
society, and must keep up the dignity of that rank; and it was his
misfortune if necessity put him upon using means for that purpose not
quite in unison with his better judgment. Royalty itself has not free
choice in matters of the heart; and nobility, as it approaches royalty
in its splendour, is sometimes assimilated to it in its restraints and
perplexities. Still, however, making every concession which candour
and human kindness prompt us to make in behalf of Philip Martindale;
and admitting all the extenuations which a merciful advocate could
suggest, we cannot help thinking, and it is our duty to say it, that
if he had abstained from the foolish and low pursuits of gaming in
all its varieties, and if he had cherished and preserved that spirit
of independence which his excellent mother, Lady Martindale, had
endeavoured to instil into his mind, he might have upheld the dignity
of his rank, if he had sacrificed a little of its splendour. But to our
history.
We have mentioned as the patroness of the archery-meeting, Lady
Featherstone; and we have said that this lady had two daughters, Lucy
and Isabella. It has also been observed that Sir Andrew Featherstone
felt a wish to unite one of these young ladies in marriage with Philip
Martindale. This was a very natural ambition. The two families had
been intimate for several generations. The Martindales had, by various
circumstances, gradually advanced in wealth; but the reverse had been
the lot of the Featherstones, though they were quite as old and good a
family as the Martindales. Singular indeed it was that the only person
in the Martindale family who showed any symptoms of alienation from
the Featherstones was old John Martindale: the singularity, however,
consisted in this, that he had not shown any coolness, or behaved with
any reserve, on the increase of his own property; but he had carried
himself proudly towards them only since his cousin had acquired a title
of nobility and had become a peer. Yet the old gentleman professed to
laugh at titles; but nobody thought that old John Martindale was a fool.
Sir Andrew Featherstone, being a good-humoured man, took little notice
of countless insults, affronts, slights, and disrespectfulnesses,
whereby myriads of the human species are most grievously tormented.
He did not, therefore, heed or observe the coldness of old Mr.
Martindale; nor was he at all angry with Philip that he gave much
of his attention to Sir Gilbert Sampson, and that he tolerated the
attentions of Miss Sampson. Lady Featherstone, however, was more
observant; and notwithstanding the incessant and manifold attention
which she paid to all the party, could not help noticing how very
gracious Philip Martindale was with Sir Gilbert. Various were the
stratagems by which her ladyship endeavoured and contrived to place
Philip in juxtaposition with her daughters when they adjourned to
the collation; and very agreeable was her surprise when, after the
strictest observation, she did not discern any wandering of the eyes of
the young gentleman towards that part of the table where Miss Sampson
was seated. Her fears were still farther diminished, when she found
that Miss Sampson was deeply, and to all appearance most agreeably,
engaged in conversation with a very elegant young gentleman, who seemed
almost as much pleased with Miss Sampson as he was with himself. We owe
it to our readers to introduce this young gentleman.
Henry Augustus Tippetson was a gentleman of good family, but being a
younger brother, and very indolent, was not likely to make any great
figure in the world. He was of middle stature; very slender, very fair,
very near-sighted when he happened to think of it; having flaxen hair
and blue eyes; suspected, but unjustly, of using rouge; very expensive
in his dress, and one of Delcroix’s best customers. He was not one of
the archers, though he had once attempted to use a bow. He found that
the exertion was too much for him, and he feared it might harden his
hands. He expressed to Miss Sampson the same fears for her; but the
young lady heeded not the apprehension.
Lady Featherstone was very happy to see Miss Sampson so employed;
but when her ladyship turned her attention to her own daughters
and the gentleman whom she had seated by them, not all her powers
of penetration could discover to which of the young ladies Philip
Martindale was paying the greatest attention; and most of all was her
mind disturbed by observing, that when he addressed himself either to
one or the other, though it was with perfect politeness, it was with
perfect indifference.
The sports of the day were concluded by a ball, which resembled in
every point every ball of the same character. There was the usual
allowance of dancing, negus, nonsense, tossing of heads, sneering,
quizzing, showing off, blundering, and all the rest of that kind of
amusement. It enters not into our plan to dwell any longer on this
festival. We must return to Brigland.