order, in which Ready-Money Jack took his wife about the country. His
well-fed horse neighed from the stable, and when led out into the yard,
to use the words of young Jack, "he shone like a bottle;" for he said
the old man made it a rule that everything about him should fare as well
as he did himself.
[Illustration: "He shone like a bottle"]
I was pleased to see the pride which the young fellow seemed to have of
his father. He gave us several particulars concerning his habits, which
were pretty much to the effect of those I have already mentioned. He had
never suffered an account to stand in his life, always providing the
money before he purchased anything; and, if possible, paying in gold and
silver. He had a great dislike to paper money, and seldom went without a
considerable sum in gold about him. On my observing that it was a wonder
he had never been waylaid and robbed, the young fellow smiled at the
idea of any one venturing upon such an exploit, for I believe he thinks
the old man would be a match for Robin Hood and all his gang.
I have noticed that Master Simon seldom goes into any house without
having a world of private talk with some one or other of the family,
being a kind of universal counsellor and confidant. We had not been long
at the farm before the old dame got him into a corner of her parlour,
where they had a long whispering conference together; in which I saw by
his shrugs that there were some dubious matters discussed, and by his
nods that he agreed with everything she said.
After we had come out, the young man accompanied us a little distance,
and then, drawing Master Simon aside into a green lane, they walked and
talked together for nearly half-an-hour. Master Simon, who has the usual
propensity of confidants to blab everything to the next friend they meet
with, let me know that there was a love affair in question; the young
fellow having been smitten with the charms of Phoebe Wilkins, the pretty
niece of the housekeeper at the Hall. Like most other love concerns, it
had brought its troubles and perplexities. Dame Tibbets had long been
on intimate gossiping terms with the housekeeper, who often visited the
farm-house; but when the neighbours spoke to her of the likelihood of a
match between her son and Phoebe Wilkins, "Marry come up!" she scouted
the very idea. The girl had acted as lady's maid, and it was beneath the
blood of the Tibbetses, who had lived on their own lands time out of
mind, and owed reverence and thanks to nobody, to have the heir-apparent
marry a servant!
These vapourings had faithfully been carried to the housekeeper's ear by
one of the mutual go-between friends. The old housekeeper's blood, if
not as ancient, was as quick as that of Dame Tibbets.
She had been accustomed to carry a high head at the Hall and among the
villagers; and her faded brocade rustled with indignation at the slight
cast upon her alliance by the wife of a petty farmer. She maintained
that her niece had been a companion rather than a waiting-maid to the
young ladies. "Thank heavens, she was not obliged to work for her
living, and was as idle as any young lady in the land; and when somebody
died, would receive something that would be worth the notice of some
folks with all their ready money."
A bitter feud had thus taken place between the two worthy dames, and the
young people were forbidden to think of one another. As to young Jack,
he was too much in love to reason upon the matter; and being a little
heady, and not standing in much awe of his mother, was ready to
sacrifice the whole dignity of the Tibbetses to his passion. He had
lately, however, had a violent quarrel with his mistress, in consequence
of some coquetry on her part, and at present stood aloof. The politic
mother was exerting all her ingenuity to widen this accidental breach;
but, as is most commonly the case, the more she meddled with this
perverse inclination of her son, the stronger it grew. In the meantime
Old Ready-Money was kept completely in the dark; both parties were in
awe and uncertainty as to what might be his way of taking the matter,
and dreaded to awaken the sleeping lion. Between father and son,
therefore, the worthy Mrs. Tibbets was full of business and at her wits'
end. It is true that there was no great danger of honest Ready-Money's
finding the thing out, if left to himself; for he was of a most
unsuspicious temper, and by no means quick of apprehension; but there
was daily risk of his attention being aroused by those cobwebs which his
indefatigable wife was continually spinning about his nose.
Such is the distracted state of politics in the domestic empire of
Ready-Money Jack; which only shows the intrigues and internal dangers to
which the best regulated governments are liable. In this perplexing
situation of their affairs, both mother and son have applied to Master
Simon for counsel; and, with all his experience in meddling with other
people's concerns, he finds it an exceedingly difficult part to play, to
agree with both parties, seeing that their opinions and wishes are so
diametrically opposite.
[Illustration: A Tailpiece]
[Illustration: Christy on Pepper]
HORSEMANSHIP.
A coach was a strange monster in those days, and the sight of
one put both horse and man into amazement. Some said it was a
great crabshell brought out of China, and some imagined it to
be one of the Pagan temples in which the Cannibals adored the
divell.
TAYLOR, THE WATER POET.
I have made casual mention, more than once, of one of the squire's
antiquated retainers, old Christy the huntsman. I find that his crabbed
humour is a source of much entertainment among the young men of the
family: the Oxonian, particularly, takes a mischievous pleasure now and
then in slyly rubbing the old man against the grain, and then smoothing
him down again; for the old fellow is as ready to bristle up his back
as a porcupine. He rides a venerable hunter called Pepper, which is a
counterpart of himself, a heady, cross-grained animal, that frets the
flesh off its bones; bites, kicks, and plays all manner of villanous
tricks. He is as tough, and nearly as old as his rider, who has ridden
him time out of mind, and is, indeed, the only one that can do anything
with him. Sometimes, however, they have a complete quarrel, and a
dispute for mastery, and then, I am told, it is as good as a farce to
see the heat they both get into, and the wrongheaded contest that
ensues; for they are quite knowing in each other's ways and in the art
of teasing and fretting each other. Notwithstanding these doughty
brawls, however, there is nothing that nettles old Christy sooner than
to question the merits of his horse; which he upholds as tenaciously as
a faithful husband will vindicate the virtues of the termagant spouse
that gives him a curtain lecture every night of his life.
The young men call old Christy their "professor of equitation," and in
accounting for the appellation, they let me into some particulars of the
squire's mode of bringing up his children. There is an odd mixture of
eccentricity and good sense in all the opinions of my worthy host. His
mind is like modern Gothic, where plain brick-work is set off with
pointed arches and plain tracery. Though the main groundwork of his
opinions is correct, yet he has a thousand little notions, picked up
from old books, which stand out whimsically on the surface of his mind.
Thus, in educating his boys, he chose Peachum, Markham, and such old
English writers for his manuals. At an early age he took the lads out of
their mother's hands, who was disposed, as mothers are apt to be, to
make fine orderly children of them, that should keep out of sun and
rain, and never soil their hands, nor tear their clothes.
In place of this, the squire turned them loose, to run free and wild
about the park, without heeding wind or weather. He was also
particularly attentive in making them bold and expert horsemen; and
these were the days when old Christy, the huntsman, enjoyed great
importance, as the lads were put under his care to practise them at the
leaping-bars, and to keep an eye upon them in the chase.
The squire always objected to their using carriages of any kind, and is
still a little tenacious on this point. He often rails against the
universal use of carriages, and quotes the words of honest Nashe to that
effect. "It was thought," says Nashe, in his Quaternio, "a kind of
solecism, and to savour of effeminacy, for a young gentleman in the
flourishing time of his age to creep into a coach, and to shroud himself
from wind and weather: our great delight was to out-brave the blustering
boreas upon a great horse; to arm and prepare ourselves to go with Mars
and Bellona into the field was our sport and pastime; coaches and
caroches we left unto them for whom they were first invented, for ladies
and gentlemen, and decrepit age and impotent people."
The squire insists that the English gentlemen have lost much of their
hardiness and manhood since the introduction of carriages. "Compare," he
will say, "the fine gentleman of former times, ever on horseback, booted
and spurred, and travel-stained, but open, frank, manly, and chivalrous,
with the fine gentleman of the present day, full of affectation and
effeminacy, rolling along a turnpike in his voluptuous vehicle. The
young men of those days were rendered brave, and lofty, and generous,
in their notions, by almost living in their saddles, and having their
foaming steeds 'like proud seas under them.' There is something," he
adds, "in bestriding a fine horse, that makes a man feel more than
mortal. He seems to have doubled his nature, and to have added to his
own courage and sagacity the power, the speed, and stateliness of the
superb animal on which he is mounted."
[Illustration: A Hunter]
"It is a great delight," says old Nashe, "to see a young gentleman with
his skill and cunning, by his voice, rod, and spur, better to manage and
to command the great Bucephalus, than the strongest Milo, with all his
strength; one while to see him make him tread, trot, and gallop the
ring; and one after to see him make him gather up roundly; to bear his
head steadily; to run a full career swiftly; to stop a sudden lightly;
anon after to see him make him advance, to yorke, to go back and side
long, to turn on either hand; to gallop the gallop galliard; to do the
capriole, the chambetta, and dance the curvetty."
In conformity to these ideas, the squire had them all on horseback at an
early age, and made them ride, slap-dash, about the country, without
flinching at hedge or ditch, or stone wall, to the imminent danger of
their necks.
Even the fair Julia was partially included in this system; and, under
the instructions of old Christy, has become one of the best horsewomen
in the county. The squire says it is better than all the cosmetics and
sweeteners of the breath that ever were invented. He extols the
horsemanship of the ladies in former times, when Queen Elizabeth would
scarcely suffer the rain to stop her accustomed ride. "And then think,"
he will say, "what nobler and sweeter beings it made them. What a
difference must there be, both in mind and body, between a joyous
high-spirited dame of those days, glowing with health and exercise,
freshened by every breeze that blows, seated loftily and gracefully on
her saddle, with plume on head, and hawk on hand, and her descendant of
the present day, the pale victim of routs and ball-rooms, sunk languidly
in one corner of an enervating carriage."
The squire's equestrian system has been attended with great success, for
his sons, having passed through the whole course of instruction without
breaking neck or limb, are now healthful, spirited, and active, and have
the true Englishman's love for a horse. If their manliness and frankness
are praised in their father's hearing, he quotes the old Persian maxim,
and says, they have been taught "to ride, to shoot, and to speak the
truth."
It is true the Oxonian has now and then practised the old gentleman's
doctrines a little in the extreme. He is a gay youngster, rather fonder
of his horse than his book, with a little dash of the dandy; though the
ladies all declare that he is "the flower of the flock." The first year
that he was sent to Oxford, he had a tutor appointed to overlook him, a
dry chip of the university. When he returned home in the vacation, the
squire made many inquiries about how he liked his college, his studies,
and his tutor. "Oh, as to my tutor, sir, I have parted with him some
time since." "You have; and, pray, why so?" "Oh, sir, hunting was all
the go at our college, and I was a little short of funds; so I
discharged my tutor, and took a horse, you know." "Ah, I was not aware
of that, Tom," said the squire, mildly.
When Tom returned to college his allowance was doubled, that he might be
enabled to keep both horse and tutor.
[Illustration: The Tutor's Dismissal]
[Illustration: The Offering]
LOVE SYMPTOMS.
I will now begin to sigh, read poets, look pale, go neatly,
and be most apparently in love.
MARSTON.
I should not be surprised if we should have another pair of turtles at
the Hall, for Master Simon has informed me, in great confidence, that he
suspects the general of some design upon the susceptible heart of Lady
Lillycraft. I have, indeed, noticed a growing attention and courtesy in
the veteran towards her ladyship; he softens very much in her company,
sits by her at table, and entertains her with long stories about
Seringapatam, and pleasant anecdotes of the Mulligatawney Club. I have
even seen him present her with a full-blown rose from the hot-house, in
a style of the most captivating gallantry, and it was accepted with
great suavity and graciousness; for her ladyship delights in receiving
the homage and attention of the sex.
Indeed, the general was one of the earliest admirers that dangled in her
train during her short reign of beauty; and they flirted together for
half a season in London, some thirty or forty years since. She reminded
him lately, in the course of conversation about former days, of the time
when he used to ride a white horse, and to canter so gallantly by the
side of her carriage in Hyde Park; whereupon I have remarked that the
veteran has regularly escorted her since, when she rides out on
horseback; and I suspect he almost persuades himself that he makes as
captivating an appearance as in his youthful days.
It would be an interesting and memorable circumstance in the chronicles
of Cupid, if this spark of the tender passion, after lying dormant for
such a length of time, should again be fanned into a flame from amidst
the ashes of two burnt-out hearts. It would be an instance of
perdurable fidelity, worthy of being placed beside those recorded in one
of the squire's favourite tomes, commemorating the constancy of the
olden times; in which times, we are told, "men and wymmen coulde love
togyders seven yeres, and no licours luste swere betwene them, and
thenne was love, trouthe, and feythfulness; and lo in lyke wyse was used
love in Kyng Arthur's dayes."[A]
[Footnote A: Mort d'Arthur.]
Still, however, this may be nothing but a little venerable flirtation,
the general being a veteran dangler, and the good lady habituated to
these kind of attentions. Master Simon, on the other hand, thinks the
general is looking about him with the wary eye of an old campaigner; and
now that he is on the wane, is desirous of getting into warm winter
quarters.
Much allowance, however, must be made for Master Simon's uneasiness on
the subject, for he looks on Lady Lillycraft's house as one of the
strongholds where he is lord of the ascendant; and, with all his
admiration of the general, I much doubt whether he would like to see him
lord of the lady and the establishment.
There are certain other symptoms, notwithstanding, that give an air of
probability to Master Simon's intimations. Thus, for instance, I have
observed that the general has been very assiduous in his attentions to
her ladyship's dogs, and has several times exposed his fingers to
imminent jeopardy in attempting to pat Beauty on the head. It is to be
hoped his advances to the mistress will be more favourably received, as
all his overtures towards a caress are greeted by the pestilent little
cur with a wary kindling of the eye, and a most venomous growl. He has,
moreover, been very complaisant towards the lady's gentlewoman, the
immaculate Mrs. Hannah, whom he used to speak of in a way that I do not
choose to mention. Whether she has the same suspicions with Master Simon
or not, I cannot say; but she receives his civilities with no better
grace than the implacable Beauty; unscrewing her mouth into a most acid
smile, and looking as though she could bite a piece out of him. In
short, the poor general seems to have as formidable foes to contend with
as a hero of ancient fairy tale, who had to fight his way to his
enchanted princess through ferocious monsters of every kind, and to
encounter the brimstone terrors of some fiery dragon.
[Illustration: Mrs. Hannah]
There is still another circumstance which inclines me to give very
considerable credit to Master Simon's suspicions. Lady Lillycraft is
very fond of quoting poetry, and the conversation often turns upon it,
on which occasions the general is thrown completely out. It happened the
other day that Spenser's Fairy Queen was the theme for the great part of
the morning, and the poor general sat perfectly silent. I found him not
long after in the library with spectacles on nose, a book in his hand,
and fast asleep. On my approach he awoke, slipped the spectacles into
his pocket, and began to read very attentively. After a little while he
put a paper in the place, and laid the volume aside, which I perceived
was the Fairy Queen. I have had the curiosity to watch how he got on in
his poetical studies; but though I have repeatedly seen him with the
book in his hand, yet I find the paper has not advanced above three or
four pages; the general being extremely apt to fall asleep when he
reads.
[Illustration: Asleep When He Reads]
[Illustration: Falconry in Olden Times]
FALCONRY.
Ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch,
Whether high tow'ring or accousting low,
But I the measure of her flight doe search,
And all her prey and all her diet know.
SPENSER.
There are several grand sources of lamentation furnished to the worthy
squire, by the improvement of society, and the grievous advancement of
knowledge; among which there is none, I believe, that causes him more
frequent regret than the unfortunate invention of gunpowder. To this he
continually traces the decay of some favourite custom, and, indeed, the
general downfall of all chivalrous and romantic usages. "English
soldiers," he says, "have never been the men they were in the days of
the cross-bow and the long-bow; when they depended upon the strength of
the arm, and the English archer could draw a cloth-yard shaft to the
head. These were the times when, at the battles of Cressy, Poictiers,
and Agincourt, the French chivalry was completely destroyed by the
bowmen of England. The yeomanry, too, have never been what they were,
when, in times of peace, they were constantly exercised with the bow,
and archery was a favourite holiday pastime."
Among the other evils which have followed in the train of this fatal
invention of gunpowder, the squire classes the total decline of the
noble art of falconry. "Shooting," he says, "is a skulking, treacherous,
solitary sport in comparison; but hawking was a gallant, open, sunshiny
recreation; it was the generous sport of hunting carried into the
skies."
"It was, moreover," he says, "according to Braithewaite, the stately
amusement of high and mounting spirits; for, as the old Welsh proverb
affirms, in those times 'You might know a gentleman by his hawk, horse,
and greyhound.' Indeed, a cavalier was seldom seen abroad without his
hawk on his fist; and even a lady of rank did not think herself
completely equipped, in riding forth, unless she had her tassel-gentel
held by jesses on her delicate hand. It was thought in those excellent
days, according to an old writer, 'quite sufficient for noblemen to
winde their horn, and to carry their hawke fair; and leave study and
learning to the children of mean people.'"
Knowing the good squire's hobby, therefore, I have not been surprised at
finding that, among the various recreations of former times which he has
endeavoured to revive in the little world in which he rules, he has
bestowed great attention on the noble art of falconry. In this he of
course has been seconded by his indefatigable coadjutor, Master Simon:
and even the parson has thrown considerable light on their labours, by
various hints on the subject, which he has met with in old English
works. As to the precious work of that famous dame, Julianna Barnes; the
Gentleman's Academie, by Markham; and the other well-known treatises
that were the manuals of ancient sportsmen, they have them at their
fingers' ends: but they have more especially studied some old tapestry
in the house, whereon is represented a party of cavaliers and stately
dames, with doublets, caps, and flaunting feathers, mounted on horse,
with attendants on foot, all in animated pursuit of the game.
The squire has discountenanced the killing of any hawks in his
neighbourhood, but gives a liberal bounty for all that are brought him
alive; so that the Hall is well stocked with all kinds of birds of prey.
On these he and Master Simon have exhausted their patience and
ingenuity, endeavouring to "reclaim" them, as it is termed, and to train
them up for the sport; but they have met with continual checks and
disappointments. Their feathered school has turned out the most
intractable and graceless scholars; nor is it the least of their trouble
to drill the retainers who were to act as ushers under them, and to take
immediate charge of these refractory birds. Old Christy and the
gamekeeper both, for a time, set their faces against the whole plan of
education; Christy having been nettled at hearing what he terms a
wild-goose chase put on a par with a fox-hunt; and the gamekeeper having
always been accustomed to look upon hawks as arrant poachers, which it
was his duty to shoot down, and nail, _in terrorem_, against the
out-houses.
Christy has at length taken the matter in hand, but has done still more
mischief by his intermeddling. He is as positive and wrongheaded about
this as he is about hunting. Master Simon has continual disputes with
him as to feeding and training the hawks. He reads to him long passages
from the old authors I have mentioned; but Christy, who cannot read, has
a sovereign contempt for all book-knowledge, and persists in treating
the hawks according to his own notions, which are drawn from his
experience, in younger days, in rearing of game cocks.
[Illustration: Physicking the Hawks]
The consequence is, that, between these jarring systems, the poor birds
have had a most trying and unhappy time of it. Many have fallen victims
to Christy's feeding and Master Simon's physicking; for the latter has
gone to work _secundum artem_, and has given them all the vomitings and
scourings laid down in the books; never were poor hawks so fed and
physicked before. Others have been lost by being but half "reclaimed,"
or tamed; for on being taken into the field, they have "raked," after
the game quite out of hearing of the call, and never returned to school.
All these disappointments had been petty, yet sore grievances to the
squire, and had made him to despond about success. He has lately,
however, been made happy by the receipt of a fine Welsh falcon, which
Master Simon terms a stately highflyer. It is a present from the
squire's friend, Sir Watkyn Williams Wynn; and is, no doubt, a
descendant of some ancient line of Welsh princes of the air, that have
long lorded it over their kingdom of clouds, from Wynnstay to the very
summit of Snowdon, or the brow of Penmanmawr. Ever since the squire
received this invaluable present he has been as impatient to sally forth
and make proof of it as was Don Quixote to assay his suit of armour.
There have been some demurs as to whether the bird was in proper health
and training; but these have been overruled by the vehement desire to
play with a new toy; and it has been determined, right or wrong, in
season or out of season, to have a day's sport in hawking to-morrow.