A strange harmonious inclination
Of all degrees to reformation.--Hudibras.
About seven miles from W----, on the main road from ----, there was
in 17-- a solitary public-house, which by the by is now a magnificent
hotel. Like many of its brethren in the more courtly vicinity of the
metropolis, this amoenum hospitium peregrinae gentis then had its
peculiar renown for certain dainties of the palate; and various in
degree and character were the numerous parties from the neighbouring
towns and farms, which upon every legitimate holiday were wont to
assemble at the mansion of mine host of the Jolly Angler, in order to
feast upon eel-pie and grow merry over the true Herefordshire cider.
But upon that special day on which we are about to introduce our reader
into the narrow confines of its common parlour, the said hostelry was
crowded with persons of a very different description from the peaceable
idlers who were ordinarily wont to empty mine host’s larder, and forget
the price of corn over the divine inspirations of pomarial nectar.
Instead of the indolent, satisfied air of the saturnalian merrymaker,
the vagrant angler, or the gentleman farmer, with his comely dame who
“walked in silk attire, and siller had to spare;” instead of the quiet
yet glad countenances of such hunters of pleasure and eaters of eel-pie,
or the more obstreperous joy of urchins let loose from school to taste
some brief and perennial recreation, and mine host’s delicacies at the
same time; instead of these, the little parlour presented a various and
perturbed group, upon whose features neither eel-pie nor Herefordshire
cider had wrought the relaxation of a holiday or the serenity of a
momentary content.
The day to which we now refer was the one immediately preceding that
appointed for the far-famed meeting at W----; and many of the patriots,
false or real, who journeyed from a distance to attend that rendezvous,
had halted at our host’s of the Jolly Angler, both as being within a
convenient space from the appointed spot, and as a tabernacle where
promiscuous intrusion and (haply) immoderate charges were less likely to
occur than at the bustling and somewhat extraordinary hotels and inns of
the town of W----.
The times in which this meeting was held were those of great popular
excitement and discontent; and the purport of the meeting proposed was
to petition Parliament against the continuance of the American war and
the King against the continuance of his ministers.
Placards of an unusually inflammatory and imprudent nature had
given great alarm to the more sober and well-disposed persons in the
neighbourhood of W----; and so much fear was felt or assumed upon the
occasion that a new detachment of Lord Ulswater’s regiment had been
especially ordered into the town; and it was generally rumoured that the
legal authorities would interfere, even by force, for the dispersion
of the meeting in question. These circumstances had given the measure a
degree of general and anxious interest which it would not otherwise
have excited; and while everybody talked of the danger of attending the
assembly, everybody resolved to thrust himself into it.
It was about the goodly hour of noon, and the persons assembled were
six in number, all members of the most violent party, and generally
considered by friend and foe as embracers of republican tenets. One of
these, a little, oily, corpulent personage, would have appeared far
too sleek and well fed for a disturber of things existing, had not a
freckled, pimpled, and fiery face, a knit brow, and a small black eye of
intolerable fierceness belied the steady and contented appearance of his
frame and girth. This gentleman, by name Christopher Culpepper, spoke in
a quick, muffled, shuffling sort of tone, like the pace of a Welsh pony,
somewhat lame, perfectly broken-winded, but an exemplary ambler for all
that.
Next to him sat, with hands clasped over his knees, a thin, small man,
with a countenance prematurely wrinkled and an air of great dejection.
Poor Castleton! his had been, indeed, the bitter lot of a man, honest
but weak, who attaches himself, heart and soul, to a public cause which,
in his life at least, is hopeless. Three other men were sitting by
the open window, disputing, with the most vehement gestures, upon
the character of Wilkes; and at the other window, alone, silent, and
absorbed, sat a man whose appearance and features were singularly
calculated to arrest and to concentrate attention. His raven hair,
grizzled with the first advance of age, still preserved its strong, wiry
curl and luxuriant thickness. His brows, large, bushy, and indicative of
great determination, met over eyes which at that moment were fixed
upon vacancy with a look of thought and calmness very unusual to their
ordinary restless and rapid glances. His mouth, that great seat of
character, was firmly and obstinately shut; and though, at the first
observation, its downward curve and iron severity wore the appearance
of unmitigated harshness, disdain, and resolve, yet a more attentive
deducer of signs from features would not have been able to detect in its
expression anything resembling selfishness or sensuality, and in
that absence would have found sufficient to redeem the more repellent
indications of mind which it betrayed.
Presently the door was opened, and the landlord, making some apology
to both parties for having no other apartment unoccupied, introduced a
personage whose dress and air, as well as a kind of saddle-bag, which he
would not intrust to any other bearer than himself, appeared to denote
him as one rather addicted to mercantile than political speculations.
Certainly he did not seem much at home among the patriotic reformers,
who, having glared upon him for a single moment, renewed, without
remark, their several attitudes or occupations.
The stranger, after a brief pause, approached the solitary reformer
whom we last described; and making a salutation, half timorous and half
familiar, thus accosted him,--
“Your servant, Mr. Wolfe, your servant. I think I had the pleasure of
hearing you a long time ago at the Westminster election: very eloquent
you were, sir, very!”
Wolfe looked up for an instant at the face of the speaker, and, not
recognizing it, turned abruptly away, threw open the window, and,
leaning out, appeared desirous of escaping from all further intrusion on
the part of the stranger; but that gentleman was by no means of a nature
easily abashed.
“Fine day, sir, for the time of year; very fine day, indeed. October
is a charming month, as my lamented friend and customer, the late Lady
Waddilove, was accustomed to say. Talking of that, sir, as the winter
is now approaching, do you not think it would be prudent, Mr. Wolfe, to
provide yourself with an umbrella? I have an admirable one which I might
dispose of: it is from the effects of the late Lady Waddilove. ‘Brown,’
said her ladyship, a short time before her death, ‘Brown, you are a good
creature; but you ask too much for the Dresden vase. We have known each
other a long time; you must take fourteen pounds ten shillings, and you
may have that umbrella in the corner into the bargain.’ Mr. Wolfe,
the bargain was completed, and the umbrella became mine: it may now be
yours.”
And so saying, Mr. Brown, depositing his saddle-bag on the ground,
proceeded to unfold an umbrella of singular antiquity and form,--a very
long stick, tipped with ivory, being surmounted with about a quarter of
a yard of sea-green silk, somewhat discoloured by time and wear.
“It is a beautiful article, sir,” said Mr. Brown, admiringly surveying
it: “is it not?”
“Pshaw!” said Wolfe, impatiently, “what have I to do with your goods
and chattels? Go and palm the cheatings and impositions of your pitiful
trade upon some easier gull.”
“Cheatings and impositions, Mr. Wolfe!” cried the slandered Brown,
perfectly aghast; “I would have you to know, sir, that I have served the
first families in the country, ay, and in this county too, and never had
such words applied to me before. Sir, there was the late Lady Waddilove,
and the respected Mrs. Minden, and her nephew the ambassador, and the
Duchess of Pugadale, and Mr. Mordaunt of Mordaunt Court, poor gentleman,
though he is poor no more,” and Mr. Brown proceeded to enumerate the
long list of his customers.
Now, we have stated that Wolfe, though he had never known the rank of
Mordaunt, was acquainted with his real name, and, as the sound caught
his ear, he muttered, “Mordaunt, Mordaunt, ay, but not my former
acquaintance,--not him who was called Glendower. No, no: the man cannot
mean him.”
“Yes, sir, but I do mean him,” cried Brown, in a rage. “I do mean
that Mr. Glendower, who afterwards took another name, but whose real
appellation is Mr. Algernon Mordaunt of Mordaunt Court, in this county,
sir.”
“What description of man is he?” said Wolfe; “rather tall, slender, with
an air and mien like a king’s, I was going to say, but better than a
king’s, like a freeman’s?”
“Ay, ay--the same,” answered Mr. Brown, sullenly; “but why should I tell
you? ‘Cheating and imposition,’ indeed! I am sure my word can be of no
avail to you; and I sha’ n’t stay here any longer to be insulted, Mr.
Wolfe, which, I am sure, talking of freemen, no freeman ought to submit
to; but as the late Lady Waddilove once very wisely said to me, ‘Brown,
never have anything to do with those republicans: they are the worst
tyrants of all.’ Good morning, Mr. Wolfe; gentlemen, your servant;
‘cheating and imposition,’ indeed! and Mr. Brown banged the door as he
departed.
“Wolfe,” said Mr. Christopher Culpepper, “who is that man?”
“I know not,” answered the republican, laconically, and gazing on the
ground, apparently in thought.
“He has the air of a slave,” quoth the free Culpepper, and slaves cannot
bear the company of freemen; therefore he did right to go, whe-w! Had
we a proper and thorough and efficient reform, human nature would not
be thus debased by trades and callings and barters and exchange, for
all professions are injurious to the character and the dignity of man,
whe-w! but, as I shall prove upon the hustings to-morrow, it is in vain
to hope for any amendment in the wretched state of things until the
people of these realms are fully, freely, and fairly represented, whe-w!
Gentlemen, it is past two, and we have not ordered dinner, whe-w!” (N.
B.--This ejaculation denotes the kind of snuffle which lent peculiar
energy to the dicta of Mr. Culpepper.)
“Ring the bell, then, and summon the landlord,” said, very pertinently,
one of the three disputants upon the character of Wilkes.
The landlord appeared; dinner was ordered.
“Pray,” said Wolfe, “has that man, Mr. Brown I think he called himself,
left the inn?”
“He has, sir, for he was mightily offended at something which--”
“And,” interrupted Wolfe, “how far hence does Mr. Mordaunt live?”
“About five miles on the other side of W----,” answered mine host.
Wolfe rose, seized his hat, and was about to depart.
“Stay, stay,” cried citizen Christopher Culpepper; “you will not leave
us till after dinner?”
“I shall dine at W----,” answered Wolfe, quitting the room.
“Then our reckoning will be heavier,” said Culpepper. “It is not
handsome in Wolfe to leave us, whe-w! Really I think that our brother
in the great cause has of late relaxed in his attentions and zeal to the
goddess of our devotions, whe-w!”
“It is human nature!” cried one of the three disputants upon the
character of Wilkes.
“It is not human nature!” cried the second disputant, folding his arms
doggedly, in preparation for a discussion.
“Contemptible human nature!” exclaimed the third disputant,
soliloquizing with a supercilious expression of hateful disdain.
“Poor human nature!” murmured Castleton, looking upward with a sigh; and
though we have not given to that gentleman other words than these, we
think they are almost sufficient to let our readers into his character.