An old worshipful gentleman, that had a great estate, And kept a brave
old house at a hospitable rate.--Old Song.
I think I may, without much loss to the reader, pass in silence over
my voyage, the next day, to Dover. (Horrible reminiscence!) I may also
spare him an exact detail of all the inns and impositions between that
sea-port and London; nor will it be absolutely necessary to the plot of
this history, to linger over every mile-stone between the metropolis
and Glenmorris Castle, where my uncle and my mother were impatiently
awaiting the arrival of the candidate to be.
It was a fine bright evening when my carriage entered the park. I had
not seen the place for years; and I felt my heart swell with something
like family pride, as I gazed on the magnificent extent of hill and
plain that opened upon me, as I passed the ancient and ivy-covered
lodge. Large groups of trees, scattered on either side, seemed, in their
own antiquity, the witness of that of the family which had given them
existence. The sun set on the waters which lay gathered in a lake at
the foot of the hill, breaking the waves into unnumbered sapphires, and
tinging the dark firs that overspread the margin, with a rich and golden
light, that put me excessively in mind of the Duke of--‘s livery.
When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood arranged in an
order so long that it almost startled me, received me with a visible
gladness and animation, which shewed me, at one glance, the old
fashioned tastes of their master. Who, in these days, ever inspires his
servants with a single sentiment of regard or interest for himself or
his whole race? That tribe one never, indeed, considers as possessing
a life separate from their services to us: beyond that purpose of
existence, we know not even if they exist. As Providence made the stars
for the benefit of earth, so it made servants for the use of gentlemen;
and, as neither stars nor servants appear except when we want them, so
I suppose they are in a sort of suspense from being, except at those
important and happy moments.
To return--for if I have any fault, it is too great a love for abstruse
speculation and reflection--I was formally ushered through a great hall,
hung round with huge antlers and rusty armour, through a lesser one,
supported by large stone columns, and without any other adornment
than the arms of the family; then through an anti-room, covered with
tapestry, representing the gallantries of King Solomon to the Queen of
Sheba; and lastly, into the apartment honoured by the august presence
of Lord Glenmorris. That personage was dividing the sofa with three
spaniels and a setter; he rose hastily when I was announced, and then
checking the first impulse which hurried him, perhaps, into an unseemly
warmth of salutation, held out his hand with a pompous air of kindly
protection, and while he pressed mine, surveyed me from head to foot to
see how far my appearance justified his condescension.
Having, at last, satisfied himself, he proceeded to inquire after the
state of my appetite. He smiled benignantly when I confessed that I was
excessively well prepared to testify its capacities (the first idea of
all kind-hearted, old-fashioned people, is to stuff you), and, silently
motioning to the grey-headed servant who stood in attendance, till
receiving the expected sign, he withdrew, Lord Glenmorris informed me
that dinner was over for every one but myself, that for me it would be
prepared in an instant, that Mr. Toolington had expired four days since,
that my mother was, at that moment, canvassing for me, and that my
own electioneering qualities were to open their exhibition with the
following day.
After this communication there was a short pause. “What a beautiful
place this is!” said I, with great enthusiasm. Lord Glenmorris was
pleased with the compliment, simple as it was.
“Yes,” said he, “it is, and I have made it still more so than you have
yet been able to perceive.”
“You have been planting, probably, on the other side of the park?”
“No,” said my uncle, smiling; “Nature had done every thing for this spot
when I came to it, but one, and the addition of that one ornament is the
only real triumph which art ever can achieve.”
“What is it?” asked I; “oh, I know--water.”
“You are mistaken,” answered Lord Glenmorris; “it is the ornament
of--happy faces.”
I looked up to my uncle’s countenance in sudden surprise. I cannot
explain how I was struck with the expression which it wore: so calmly
bright and open!--it was as if the very daylight had settled there.
“You don’t understand this at present, Henry,” said he, after a moment’s
silence; “but you will find it, of all rules for the improvement of
property, the easiest to learn. Enough of this now. Were you not au
desespoir at leaving Paris?”
“I should have been, some months ago; but when I received my mother’s
summons, I found the temptations of the continent very light in
comparison with those held out to me here.”
“What, have you already arrived at that great epoch, when vanity casts
off its first skin, and ambition succeeds to pleasure? Why--but thank
Heaven that you have lost my moral--your dinner is announced.”
Most devoutly did I thank Heaven, and most earnestly did I betake myself
to do honour to my uncle’s hospitality.
I had just finished my repast, when my mother entered. She was, as you
might well expect from her maternal affection, quite overpowered with
joy, first, at finding my hair grown so much darker, and, secondly, at
my looking so well. We spent the whole evening in discussing the great
business for which I had been summoned. Lord Glenmorris promised me
money, and my mother advice; and I, in my turn, enchanted them, by
promising to make the best use of both.