_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_
Honest Aby,
_London, Grosvenor Street_
We are once more arrived in England; for which I am not sorry. Though I
cannot say that I repent my journey into France. My former suspicions
are confirmed: I had visited the country before, but at that time my
taste was not formed; I did not then understand laying out, and
improving, as I do at present. I had heard that the French had begun to
imitate our best gardens tolerably well; but I have seen some of those
that are in most fame, and what are they to Wenbourne-Hill?--No, no,
Aby.--I am now convinced that, as they say of their Paris, there is but
one Wenbourne-Hill.
I do not know when the family will return to the country. The young
people wish to enjoy the diversions and pleasures of the town; and I
rather suppose we shall stay here all the winter. Perhaps we may take a
jaunt or two, between this and the meeting of parliament. Not that any
such plan is yet settled. And as for me, I shall be down with you
occasionally, as affairs shall require. I shall take great delight, in
once again treading over all my grounds, and walks, and dells; and in
visiting places that are never out of my mind.
I cannot forget the hermitage, and the grotto, and the wilderness, of
which, the moment you mentioned them, I had formed so charming and so
excellent a plan. The picture clings to me, as it were; and it grieves
me to give it up. But so it must be.
However, as I say, I shall come down more than once: and, for my part,
I wonder how these young unthinking people can prefer the dirty streets
of London, to all the delights and riches of nature, and of art; which
may be said to be waiting for and inviting them, at Wenbourne-Hill.
I am very glad to find, honest Abimelech, that money is so certainly to
be had. But you were always intimate with the warm old fellows, that
provide themselves plentifully with what you so aptly call the
wherewithalls. You have followed their example, and learned to increase
your own store. I am glad of it, and am pleased to find you do not
forget your first and best friends. I must own, Abimelech, that you
have always appeared to me to understand your situation very properly,
and to pay respect where it was due. I have seen your proud, upstart
stewards carry their heads as high as their masters! Ay, and instead of
studying their tempers and humouring them, as it was their duty, have
been surly, and always ready with their ifs, and ands, and objections,
and advice! As if it were any concern of theirs, what a gentleman shall
please to do with his money! But you, Aby, have known how to comport
yourself better; of which I believe you have no cause to repent.
As to the entail, as you say, it must be docked. I know no remedy. And
since my son is so positive, and determined to stickle for a good
bargain, why we must do the best we can.
I was once sorry at his resolving never to marry; but I think that is
partly over now; I care little about the matter. My daughter's son will
be as much my grandchild as his son would have been; and, as for names,
they may easily be changed. I am certain, were any body to ask me which
is the wisest, my son or my daughter, I should not stop a moment to
consider about that.
Ay, ay! She is my own child! Every body used to tell me, when she was a
baby, how like me she was!
She has some of her mother's features too; who, as you well know, Aby,
was a very good sort of an excellent kind of a lady, and very much
respected: ay, very much. Indeed the greatest fault of Lady St. Ives
was that she would not always be of my opinion. But we are none of us
perfect. If it were not for that one thing, I really should think my
daughter a young lady of more good sense, and good taste, and indeed
every thing of that kind, than any young person I was ever acquainted
with: but she too is a declared enemy to planning, and improving. It is
very strange; and I can only say there is no accounting for these
things!
My son however knows as little of the matter as she does; nay I believe
less. And, as to other kinds of knowledge, he is a child to her! It
delights me to hear her talk, and debate points, and chop logic, with
your Frank, who is one of her own sort; and with Mr. Clifton, the young
gentleman whom I intend for my son in law. I gave you an account in my
last, Aby, that the thing was in expectation; and it is now as good as
concluded. I have written to Mrs. Clifton; the lawyer is ordered to
make a rough sketch of marriage articles, and every thing will be got
ready, while my attorney is preparing the necessary deeds down in the
country, according to your instructions, and you are raising the money.
Be sure however, honest Aby, to make as good a bargain for me as you
can. I know money is not to be had without paying for it; and I trust
to you not to suffer me to pay too dearly. Better security you know,
Aby, cannot be offered; and I begin to feel, my improvements excepted,
which indeed I hold to be inestimable, that I am not so rich as I was
fifteen years ago. But, as my son means never to marry, and as the
families of Clifton and St. Ives are to be united in one, I have no
doubt, some time or another before I die, of seeing every thing
retrieved; though I grant there are heavy mortgages, and other
impediments to overcome.
Pray has my son told you what sum he expects? If not, endeavour to
learn, and let me know. Though on second thoughts you need not, for I
hear he is to be in town next week. He must recollect the estate of
eight hundred a-year, of which he has lately taken such violent
possession. But he is a dissipated young man, and recollects nothing
but his pleasures.
I always said, Aby, you were a man of sense; and you are very right in
thinking I cannot do too much for my daughter. I hope to contrive to
leave Wenbourne Hill her own. It is a rich spot! And, though she be an
economist, and no friend to what she thinks a waste of money in
improvements, yet I am sure, at my request, she will not be guilty of
what I may well call sacrilege, and pull down my temples, and dedicated
groves, and relics of art, and ruins; nor, as my son would, destroy
with a Gothic hand, as the poet says, and tear away beauties, which it
would rend my heart-strings not to suppose durable, as I may say, for
ages! I would have my name, and my taste, and my improvements be long
remembered at Wenbourne Hill! I delight in thinking it will hereafter
be said--'Ay! Good old Sir Arthur did this! Yonder terrace was of his
forming! These alcoves were built by him! He raised the central
obelisk! He planted the grand quincunx!' And ah, Aby! if we could but
add, 'He was the contriver of yonder charming wilderness!' I then
should die in peace.
Let me beg, good Abimelech, that you would write your thoughts in as
plain and straight forward a manner as you can; for, I assure you, I
have been very much puzzled with some parts of your last letter; which
I cannot yet say that I understand. In some places it is very plain
that you hint at Mr. Clifton, and wish me not to dally with him; and,
as I know you have my interest at heart, and speak in a style at which
no gentleman can be offended, why I rather thank than blame you, for
your desire to give good advice. Though I must say, Aby, that I do not
think I have any need of it. I am mistaken if I could not advise
others. I wish all the world would be governed by my plans, and
principles. That's a favourite word with my daughter, Aby, and a very
apt one.
I once took some delight in such things; I mean in what is called
polite learning, Aby. Indeed I was remarkably fond of Ovid's
Metamorphoses. But then, as I did not like to puzzle myself with the
Latin, I read Garth's, or Rowe's, or Pope's, or I don't know whose
translation. And I do believe it was that, and a visit to Lord
Cobham's, which first made me study taste and improvement. Nothing is
wanting but riches, Aby, to proceed to much greater lengths than any we
have yet thought of. What richness of imagination is there in Ovid!
What statues might we form, from the wonderful tales which he relates!
Niobe at the head of the canal, changing into stone! To be sure we
should want a rock there. Then on one side Narcissus, gazing at himself
in the clear pool, with poor Echo withering away in the grove behind!
King Cygnus, in the very act of being metamorphosed into a swan, on the
other! It would be so apropos, you know; a swan, and a canal, and king
Cygnus! And then at the further end Daphne, with her arms and legs
sprouting into branches, and her hair all laurel leaves!
You cannot imagine, Aby, all the fancies which came into my head the
other day, when I happened to lay my hand on Tooke's Pantheon, which
brought all these old stories fresh to memory.
But, as I was saying, good Aby, write your thoughts as plainly as you
can; for I sometimes did not know whom you were talking of, and there
were one or two places which made me think you wish something should be
done for your son, Frank. And indeed he is a very deserving, and a very
fine young fellow; and I have been thinking it would not be amiss,
since he has really made himself a gentleman, if we were to purchase
him an ensign's commission. What say you to it, honest Aby? He would
make a fine officer! A brave bold figure of a man! And who knows but,
in time, he might come to be a general; ay and command armies! For he
fears nothing! He has lately saved us a dipping, nay and for aught I
know a drowning too, and we really should do something for him; for he
is a great favourite, and a very good young man. However, I thought it
best to mention the matter first to you, and will expect your answer.