A gigantic genius fit to grapple with whole libraries
--BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON
The appointed day arrived when the Colonel and Miss Mannering were
expected at Woodbourne. The hour was fast approaching, and the little
circle within doors had each their separate subjects of anxiety.
Mac-Morlan naturally desired to attach to himself the patronage and
countenance of a person of Mannering's wealth and consequence. He was
aware, from his knowledge of mankind, that Mannering, though generous
and benevolent, had the foible of expecting and exacting a minute
compliance with his directions. He was therefore racking his
recollection to discover if everything had been arranged to meet the
Colonel's wishes and instructions, and, under this uncertainty of mind,
he traversed the house more than once from the garret to the stables.
Mrs. Mac-Morlan revolved in a lesser orbit, comprehending the
dining-parlour, housekeeper's room, and kitchen. She was only afraid
that the dinner might be spoiled, to the discredit of her housewifely
accomplishments. Even the usual passiveness of the Dominie was so far
disturbed that he twice went to the window which looked out upon the
avenue, and twice exclaimed, 'Why tarry the wheels of their chariot?'
Lucy, the most quiet of the expectants, had her own melancholy
thoughts. She was now about to be consigned to the charge, almost to
the benevolence, of strangers, with whose character, though hitherto
very amiably, displayed, she was but imperfectly acquainted. The
moments, therefore, of suspense passed anxiously and heavily.
At length the trampling of horses and the sound of wheels were heard.
The servants, who had already arrived, drew up in the hall to receive
their master and mistress, with an importance and EMPRESSEMENT which to
Lucy, who had never been accustomed to society, or witnessed what is
called the manners of the great, had something alarming. Mac-Morlan
went to the door to receive the master and mistress of the family, and
in a few moments they were in the drawing-room.
Mannering, who had travelled as usual on horseback, entered with his
daughter hanging upon his arm. She was of the middle size, or rather
less, but formed with much elegance; piercing dark eyes, and jet-black
hair of great length, corresponded with the vivacity and intelligence
of features in which were blended a little haughtiness, and a little
bashfulness, a great deal of shrewdness, and some power of humorous
sarcasm. 'I shall not like her,' was the result of Lucy Bertram's first
glance; 'and yet; I rather think I shall,' was the thought excited by
the second.
Miss Mannering was furred and mantled up to the throat against the
severity of the weather; the Colonel in his military great-coat. He
bowed to Mrs. Mac-Morlan, whom his daughter also acknowledged with a
fashionable courtesy, not dropped so low as at all to incommode her
person. The Colonel then led his daughter up to Miss Bertram, and,
taking the hand of the latter, with an air of great kindness and almost
paternal affection, he said, 'Julia, this is the young lady whom I hope
our good friends have prevailed on to honour our house with a long
visit. I shall be much gratified indeed if you can render Woodbourne as
pleasant to Miss Bertram as Ellangowan was to me when I first came as a
wanderer into this country.'
The young lady courtesied acquiescence, and took her new friend's hand.
Mannering now turned his eye upon the Dominie, who had made bows since
his entrance into the room, sprawling out his leg, and bending his back
like an automaton, which continues to repeat the same movement until
the motion is stopt by the artist. 'My good friend, Mr. Sampson,' said
Mannering, introducing him to his daughter, and darting at the same
time a reproving glance at the damsel, notwithstanding he had himself
some disposition to join her too obvious inclination to risibility;
'this gentleman, Julia, is to put my books in order when they arrive,
and I expect to derive great advantage from his extensive learning.'
'I am sure we are obliged to the gentleman, papa, and, to borrow a
ministerial mode of giving thanks, I shall never forget the
extraordinary countenance he has been pleased to show us. But, Miss
Bertram,' continued she hastily, for her father's brows began to
darken, 'we have travelled a good way; will you permit me to retire
before dinner?'
This intimation dispersed all the company save the Dominie, who, having
no idea of dressing but when he was to rise, or of undressing but when
he meant to go to bed, remained by himself, chewing the cud of a
mathematical demonstration, until the company again assembled in the
drawing-room, and from thence adjourned to the dining-parlour.
When the day was concluded, Mannering took an opportunity to hold a
minute's conversation with his daughter in private.
'How do you like your guests, Julia?'
'O, Miss Bertram of all things; but this is a most original parson;
why, dear sir, no human being will be able to look at him without
laughing.'
'While he is under my roof, Julia, every one must learn to do so.'
'Lord, papa, the very footmen could not keep their gravity!'
'Then let them strip off my livery,' said the Colonel, 'and laugh at
their leisure. Mr. Sampson is a man whom I esteem for his simplicity
and benevolence of character.'
'O, I am convinced of his generosity too,' said this lively lady; 'he
cannot lift a spoonful of soup to his mouth without bestowing a share
on everything round.'
'Julia, you are incorrigible; but remember I expect your mirth on this
subject to be under such restraint that it shall neither offend this
worthy man's feelings nor those of Miss Bertram, who may be more apt to
feel upon his account than he on his own. And so, goodnight, my dear;
and recollect that, though Mr. Sampson has certainly not sacrificed to
the graces, there are many things in this world more truly deserving of
ridicule than either awkwardness of manners or simplicity of character.'
In a day or two Mr. and Mrs. Mac-Morlan left Woodbourne, after taking
an affectionate farewell of their late guest. The household were now
settled in their new quarters. The young ladies followed their studies
and amusements together. Colonel Mannering was agreeably surprised to
find that Miss Bertram was well skilled in French and Italian, thanks
to the assiduity of Dominie Sampson, whose labour had silently made him
acquainted with most modern as well as ancient languages. Of music she
knew little or nothing, but her new friend undertook to give her
lessons, in exchange for which she was to learn from Lucy the habit of
walking, and the art of riding, and the courage necessary to defy the
season. Mannering was careful to substitute for their amusement in the
evening such books as might convey some solid instruction with
entertainment, and, as he read aloud with great skill and taste, the
winter nights passed pleasantly away.
Society was quickly formed where there were so many inducements. Most
of the families of the neighbourhood visited Colonel Mannering, and he
was soon able to select from among them such as best suited his taste
and habits. Charles Hazlewood held a distinguished place in his favour,
and was a frequent visitor, not without the consent and approbation of
his parents; for there was no knowing, they thought, what assiduous
attention might produce, and the beautiful Miss Mannering, of high
family, with an Indian fortune, was a prize worth looking after.
Dazzled with such a prospect, they never considered the risk which had
once been some object of their apprehension, that his boyish and
inconsiderate fancy might form an attachment to the penniless Lucy
Bertram, who had nothing on earth to recommend her but a pretty face,
good birth, and a most amiable disposition. Mannering was more prudent.
He considered himself acting as Miss Bertram's guardian, and, while he
did not think it incumbent upon him altogether to check her intercourse
with a young gentleman for whom, excepting in wealth, she was a match
in every respect, he laid it under such insensible restraints as might
prevent any engagement or ECLAIRCISSEMENT taking place until the young
man should have seen a little more of life and of the world, and have
attained that age when he might be considered as entitled to judge for
himself in the matter in which his happiness was chiefly interested.
While these matters engaged the attention of the other members of the
Woodbourne family, Dominie Sampson was occupied, body and soul, in the
arrangement of the late bishop's library, which had been sent from
Liverpool by sea, and conveyed by thirty or forty carts from the
sea-port at which it was landed. Sampson's joy at beholding the
ponderous contents of these chests arranged upon the floor of the large
apartment, from whence he was to transfer them to the shelves, baffles
all description. He grinned like an ogre, swung his arms like the sails
of a wind-mill, shouted 'Prodigious' till the roof rung to his
raptures. 'He had never,' he said, 'seen so many books together, except
in the College Library'; and now his dignity and delight in being
superintendent of the collection raised him, in his own opinion, almost
to the rank of the academical librarian, whom he had always regarded as
the greatest and happiest man on earth. Neither were his transports
diminished upon a hasty examination of the contents of these volumes.
Some, indeed, of BELLES LETTRES, poems, plays, or memoirs he tossed
indignantly aside, with the implied censure of'psha,'or 'frivolous';
but the greater and bulkier part of the collection bore a very
different character. The deceased prelate, a divine of the old and
deeply-learned cast, had loaded his shelves with volumes which
displayed the antique and venerable attributes so happily described by
a modern poet:--
That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid,
Those ample clasps of solid metal made,
The close-press'd leaves unoped for many an age,
The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page,
On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd,
Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
Books of theology and controversial divinity, commentaries, and
polyglots, sets of the Fathers, and sermons which might each furnish
forth ten brief discourses of modern date, books of science, ancient
and modern, classical authors in their best and rarest forms--such
formed the late bishop's venerable library, and over such the eye of
Dominie Sampson gloated with rapture. He entered them in the catalogue
in his best running hand, forming each letter with the accuracy of a
lover writing a valentine, and placed each individually on the destined
shelf with all the reverence which I have seen a lady pay to a jar of
old china. With all this zeal his labours advanced slowly. He often
opened a volume when halfway up the library steps, fell upon some
interesting passage, and, without shifting his inconvenient posture,
continued immersed in the fascinating perusal until the servant pulled
him by the skirts to assure him that dinner waited. He then repaired to
the parlour, bolted his food down his capacious throat in squares of
three inches, answered ay and no at random to whatever question was
asked at him, and again hurried back to the library, as soon as his
napkin was removed, and sometimes with it hanging round his neck like a
pinafore;--
How happily the days Of Thalaba went by!
And, having thus left the principal characters of our tale in a
situation which, being sufficiently comfortable to themselves, is, of
course, utterly uninteresting to the reader, we take up the history of
a person who has as yet only been named, and who has all the interest
that uncertainty and misfortune can give.