AGRESTILLA.

_For the Table Book._

There is a story in the Rambler of a lady whom the great moralist calls

Althea, who perversely destroyed all the satisfaction of a party of

pleasure, by not only finding, but seeking for fault upon every

occasion, and affecting a variety of frivolous fears and apprehensions

without cause. Female follies, like “states and empires, have their

periods of declension;” and nearly half a century has passed away since

it has been deemed elegant, or supposed interesting, to scream at a

spider, shudder in a boat, or assert, with vehemence of terror, that a

gun, though ascertained not to be charged, may still “go off.” The

tendency to fly from one extreme to the other has ever been the

characteristic of weak minds, and the party of weak minds will always

support itself by a considerable majority, both among women and men.

Something may be done by those minor moralists, modestly termed

essayists and novelists, who have brought wisdom and virtue to dwell in

saloons and drawing-rooms. Mrs. H. More and Miss Edgeworth have pretty

well written down the affectation of assuming “the cap, the whip, the

masculine attire,” and the rage for varnishing and shoe-making has of

itself subsided, by the natural effect of total incongruity between the

means and the end. Ladies are now contented to be ladies, that is,

rational beings of the softer sex, and do not affect to be artists or

mechanics. Nevertheless, some peculiarities of affectation do from time

to time shoot up into notice, and call for the pruning-knife of the

friendly satirist.

AGRESTILLA is an agreeable, well-informed person of my own sex, from

whose society I have derived great pleasure and advantage both in London

and Paris. A few weeks since, she proposed to me to accompany her to

spend some time in a small town in Normandy, for the benefit of country

air: to this plan I acceded with great readiness; an apartment was

secured by letter, and we proceeded on our journey.

I have lived too long in the world ever to expect unmixed satisfaction

from any measure, and long enough never to neglect any precaution by

which personal comfort is to be secured. To this effect I had

represented, that perhaps it might be better to delay fixing on lodgings

till we arrived, lest we should find ourselves bounded to the view of a

market-place or narrow street, with, perchance, a butcher’s shop

opposite our windows, and a tin-man or tallow-chandler next door to us.

Agrestilla replied, that in London or Paris it was of course essential

to one’s consideration in society to live in a fashionable

neighbourhood, but that nobody minded those things “in the country.” In

vain I replied, that _consideration_ was not what I considered, but

freedom from noise and bad smells: I was then laughed at for my

fastidiousness,--“Who in the world would make difficulties about such

trifles in the _country_, when one might be out of doors from morning

till night!”

We arrived at the place of our destination; my mind expanded with

pleasure at the sight of large rooms, wide staircases, and windows

affording the prospect of verdure. The stone-floors and the paucity of

window curtains, to say nothing of blinds to exclude the sun, appeared

to me inconveniences to be remedied by the expenditure of a few francs;

but Agrestilla, as pertinacious in her serenity as Althea in her

querulousness, decided that we ought to take things in the rough, and

make anything do “in the country.” Scraps of carpet and ells of muslin

are attainable by unassisted effort, stimulated by necessity, and I

acquired and maintained tolerable ease of mind and body, till we came to

discuss together the grand article of society. My maxim is, the best or

none at all. I love conversation, but hate feasting and visiting.

Agrestilla lays down no maxim, but her practice is, good if possible--if

not, second-best; at all events, a number of guests and frequent

parties. Though she is not vain of her mind or of her person, yet the

display of fine clothes and good dishes, and the secret satisfaction of

shining forth the queen of her company, make up her enjoyment:

Agrestilla’s taste is gregarious. To my extreme sorrow and apprehension,

we received an invitation to dine with a family unknown to me, and

living nine miles off! To refuse was impossible, the plea of

preengagement is inadmissible with people who tell you to “choose your

day,” and as to pretending to be sick, I hold it to be presumptuous and

wicked. The conveyance was to be a cart! the time of departure six in

the morning! Terrified and aghast, I demanded, “How are we to get

through the day?” No work! no books! no subjects of mutual interest to

talk upon!--“Oh! dear me, time soon passes ‘in the country;’ we shall be

three hours going, the roads are very bad, then comes breakfast, and

then walking round the garden, and then dinner and coming home early.”

This invitation hung over my mind like an incubus,--like an eye-tooth

firm in the head to be wrenched out,--like settling-day to a defaulter,

or auricular confession to a ceremonious papist and bad liver. My only

hope was in the weather. The clouds seemed to be for ever filling and

for ever emptying, like the pitchers of the Danaides. The street, court,

and garden became all impassable, without the loan of Celestine’s

_sabots_ (anglice wooden shoes.) Celestine is a stout Norman girl, who

washes the dishes, and wears a holland-mob and a linsey-woolsey

petticoat. Certainly, thought I, in my foolish security, while this

deluge continues nobody will think of visiting “in the country.” But

vain and illusive was my hope! Agrestilla declared her intention of

keeping her engagement “if it rained cats and dogs;” and the weather

cleared up on the eve of my execution, and smiled in derision of my woe.

The cart came. Jemmy Dawson felt as much anguish in his, but he did not

feel it so long. We were lumbered with inside packages, bundles, boxes,

and baskets, accumulated by Agrestilla; I proposed their being secured

with cords (_lashed_ is the sea-term) to prevent them from rolling

about, crushing our feet and grazing our legs at every jolt.

Agrestilla’s politeness supprest an exclamation of amazement, that

people could mind such trifles “in the country!”--for her part, she

never made difficulties.--Being obliged to maintain the equilibrium of

my person by clinging to each side of the cart with my two hands, I had

much to envy those personages of the Hindû mythology, who are provided

with six or seven arms: as for my bonnet it was crushed into all manner

of shapes, my brain was jarred and concussed into the incapacity to tell

whether six and five make eleven or thirteen, and my feet were “all

murdered,” as the Irish and French say. What exasperated my sufferings

was the reflection on my own folly in incurring so much positive evil,

to pay and receive a mere compliment! Had it been to take a reprieve to

a dear friend going to be hanged, to carry the news of a victory, or

convey a surgeon to the wounded, I should have thought nothing and said

less of the matter; but for a mere dinner among strangers, a long day

without interest and occupation!--really I consider myself as having

half incurred the guilt of suicide. Six or seven times at least, the

horse, painfully dragging us the whole way by the strain of every nerve

and sinew, got stuck in the mud, and was to be flogged till he plunged

out of it. More than once we tottered upon ridges of incrusted mud, when

a very little matter would have turned us over. I say nothing about

_Rut_land--I abhor and disdain a pun--but we did nothing but cross ruts

to avoid puddles, and cross them back again to avoid stones, and the

ruts were all so deep as to leave but one semicircle of the wheel

visible. I never saw such roads--the Colossus of Rhodes would have been

knee-deep in them. At last we arrived--Agrestilla as much out of

patience at my calling it an evil to have my shins bruised black and

blue, while engaged in a party of pleasure “in the country,” as I to

find the expedition all pain and no pleasure. We turned out of the cart

in very bad condition; all our dress “clean put on,” as the housewives

say, rumpled and soiled, our limbs stiff, our faces flushed, and by far

too fevered to eat, and too weary to walk. How I thought, like a

shipwrecked mariner, not upon my own “fireside,” as English novelists

always say, but upon my quiet, comfortable room, books, work,

independence, and _otium_ with or without _dignitate_ (let others decide

that.) Oh! the _fag_ of talking when one has nothing to say, smiling

when one is ready to cry, and accepting civilities when one feels them

all to be inflictions! Of the habits, the manners, the appearance, and

the conversation of our hosts, I will relate nothing; I have eaten their

bread, as the Arabs say, and owe them the tribute of thanks and silence.

Agrestilla was as merry as possible all day; she has lived in the

company of persons of sense and education, but--nobody expects

refinement “in the country!” In vain I expostulate with her, pleading in

excuse of what she terms my fastidiousness, that I cannot change my

fixed notions of elegance, propriety, and comfort, to conform to the

habits of those to whom such terms are as _lingua franca_ to a Londoner,

what he neither understands nor cares for.

It is easy to conform one’s exterior to rural habits, by putting on a

coarse straw hat, thick shoes, and linen gown, but the taste and feeling

of what is right, the mental perception must remain the same. Nothing

can be more surprising to an English resident in a country-town of

France, than the jumble of ranks in society that has taken place since

the revolution. I know a young lady whose education and manners render

her fit for polished society in Paris; her mother goes about in a

woollen jacket, and dresses the dinner, not from necessity, for that I

should make no joke of, but from taste; and is as arrant an old gossip

as ever lolled with both elbows over the counter of a chandler’s

shop.--Her brother is a _garde du corps_, who spends his life in palaces

and drawing-rooms, and she has one cousin a little pastry-cook, and

another a washer-woman.--They have a lodger, a maiden lady, who lives on

six hundred francs per annum, (about twenty-four pounds,) and of course

performs every menial office for herself, and, except on Sundays, looks

like an old weeding-woman; her brother has been a judge, lives in a fine

house, buys books and cultivates exotics. Low company is tiresome in

England, because it is ignorant and stupid; in France it is gross and

disgusting. The notion of being merry and entertaining is to tell gross

stories; the _demoiselles_ sit and say nothing, simper and look pretty:

what a pity it is that time should change them into coarse,

hard-featured _commères_, like their mothers! The way in Normandy is to

dine very early, and remain all the evening in the dinner-room, instead

of going into a fresh apartment to take coffee. Agrestilla does not fail

to conform to the latter plan in Paris, because people of fashion do so,

and Agrestilla is a fashionable woman, but she wonders I should object

to the smell of the dinner “in the country.” I have been strongly

tempted to the crime of sacrilege by robbing the church for wax candles,

none being to be got at “the shop.” My incapacity for rural enjoyments

and simple habits is manifest to Agrestilla, from my absurdly objecting

to the smell of tallow-candles “in the country.” Agrestilla’s rooms are

profusely lighted with wax in Paris, “but nobody thinks of such a thing

‘in the country’ for nearly a month or two,”--as if life were not made

up of months, weeks, and hours!

I am afraid, Mr. Editor, that I may have wearied you by my prolixity,

but since all acumen of taste is to disappear, when we pass the bills of

mortality, I will hope that my communication may prove good enough to be

read--in the _country_.

The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 3 (of 3) Everlasting Calerdar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac · 第 339 / 1847 题