We had scarce sat half an hour talking over the pleasure we expected
in our afternoon visit, when Dr. Tonic called to inform us his family
had received an invitation from Lady Lustre, to meet Miss Fitzclarence,
assuring us Mr. Earwig, and Mr. Munchausen were to be of the party.
“Humph!” ejaculated my uncle, “I hope Mrs. Deposit won’t be there also.”
“Oh, no, Lady Lustre and her don’t set their horses,” replied the
Doctor.
“I should think not,” said my uncle; “sin and innocence, black and
white, snow and sunshine, are not more opposite.”
“Mrs. Deposit’s a devilish clever woman, though,” continued Dr. Tonic.
“_Devilish_ enough, I’ll allow,” rejoined my uncle; “but if, like Sir
Andrew Analize, you search your dictionary for the explanation of the
word _clever_, you’ll trace no analogy to Mrs. Deposit’s perfections;
but, if you look to the word _craft_, there you have it in full force.”
“Oh! oh!” said the Doctor, “she must not come here for a character, I
find.”
“O, yes, she may,” answered my uncle, “I’d give her a _just_ one at
any time.”
“Well,” continued the Doctor, “I can only say, your nephew ranks
high in her estimation--she talks of nobody else, calls him the
Apollo Belvidere in every company, and makes him the constant theme
of her discourse, and is to my knowledge now filling up her cards of
invitation for a grand route, on purpose to sport your paragonized
nephew.”
“She may spare herself that trouble,” replied my uncle, “my nephew
won’t sport himself in the _Calypsian_ grotto, you may depend upon it.”
“What, not go?” fiercely answered the Doctor, “Oh, fie! fie! you can’t
refuse--consider your nephew is on his preferment.”
“No such thing,” said my uncle, “he’s already _preferred_.”
“What?” resumed the Doctor, sharply, “you don’t presume to tell us,
Mr. Victor bids defiance to the fascinating charms of all our village
belles, and has brought down a heart in chains?”
“Yes, I do,” cried my uncle, “I pronounce it a _captive_; tell the
girls from me, though Victor St. Alban’s form is free, his heart is
fettered, in indissoluble links, which even the all powerful charms of
Miss Fitzclarence can _never break_.”
“Ah! ah! say you so--hem, hem! I have my doubts you’re playing the
rogue with us,” said the Doctor, visibly chagrined; “at that rate
_my_ daughters have no hopes, and I promise he’s no small favourite
of Elizetta’s: I’m afraid we shall have a sad female contest when
this comes to be known; you’ll have much to answer for, squire, by
introducing such a dangerous object.”
“Like enough,” cried my uncle, “if girls will build castles in the
air, and grasp at shadows, they must thank themselves for their
disappointment.”
“Well, but at all events, you will certainly go to Deposit’s gala?”
said the Doctor.
“I _pledge_ you my word I will not,” resumed my uncle, “I’ll _pawn_
my honour, unredeemable, if you catch me there; and as those are
very comprehensive expressions to the lady in question, you may make
the town larum of your tongue, if you like it, and disburse the news
wholesale, retail, or for exportation.”
“Hah! hah! hah!” cried the Doctor, “I can win a high bet at the Three
Pigeons to-night, if I choose to take in the knowing ones: what dy’e
think, now, was the odds at the Dolphin on Saturday night, that your
nephew was in love with Miss Fitzclarence? egad, Sir, I was laid
twenty guineas to five--but dam’me I had my doubts, I little thought
how the game stood.”
“Aye, aye! you’re _gammoned_, sure enough, Doctor--e’ent he,
Victor?--have I not spoke the truth?”
“You certainly have, Sir,” replied I.
“Then I’m dumb: I have not a word to offer; but I suppose I may
_advance_ what I’ve heard, from such undoubted authority?” said the
Doctor.
“O yes, you may _advance_ it on _full speed_ round the village,
we shan’t _retreat_, depend upon it,” replied my uncle; “you may
administer it as you please to the men, and make it into _boluses_ for
the _ladies_.”
“Uncle,” said I, laughing, “why, at that rate, you’ll physic the whole
parish.”
“So much the better for the Doctor, he knows how to dose’em: it’s
an ill wind that blows nobody good, and I’ll bet a hundred, that
in consequence of this unexpected gust, Mrs. Deposit’s weathercock
principles will shift completely opposite, and the Apollo of Belvidere
be transformed, in a twinkling, to a dæmon of abhorrence.”
“Never talk of the devil with a _doctor_ at your elbow,” exclaimed
Tonic, rising from his chair.
“You’re right, Tonic! you’re right!” said my uncle, “I forgot myself at
the moment; I did not intend it as a lancet touch, I assure you, so if
it made an incision, it must have been on your conscience.”
The Doctor forced a hah, hah! and, wishing us good morning, bundled
off with his budget of news.
“Now, where’s your flying colours, Victor?” asked my uncle, “now,
what’s the price of _gudgeons_? who says an old sportsman can’t net
game?”
“And not only _net_, but dexterously _make game_ that nets itself,”
replied I.
“Yes,” said my uncle, “I’m mistaken if my opthalmic invention has not
blinded the whole parish, and annihilated all suspicion from your
attentions to Rosa, which was the baneful village hydra I wanted to
crush, and I think my plan will now repel all the arrows of sarcasm
that were flying against you: so that you’ll neither be plagued by the
women, nor bantered by the men.”
I confessed myself highly indebted to his ingenuity, and the remainder
of the day passed on without any peculiar occurrence, till the
appointed hour of Lady Lustre’s engagement called our most willing
attendance, save the mortifying idea of meeting the Tonic family.
“Be cautious, Victor,” said my uncle, as we entered the park gate, “be
cautious and reserved--remember ’tis the request of Rosa--yonder, I
descry, the Tonic’s watching our approach from the window.”
My heart bounded as we entered the drawing room--but the Rector’s
family were not arrived; Munchausen was playing off his artillery with
Misses Tonic’s and Lady Lustre, who had never been in his company but
once, and was not aware of his rhodomontade: thought him a pleasant,
entertaining, well-read man, and in consequence of her encouraging
politeness, subjoined to his own brazen effrontery, he was now paying
his adulative respects, _self-invited_ by an accidental call of
convalescent enquiry; king of the company, and carbonading the poor
doctor into a stew, one moment while he wound him round his little
finger the next, in the most ludicrous style; and Mr. Earwig was
buzzing in Lady Lustre’s ear an account of the successful progress of
a certain charity, to which most respectable institution he had the
honour to belong, and on which establishment he was setting down her
ladyship’s name as a new member of that laudable society--“charity
covereth a multitude of sins,” exclaimed he, putting his tablet and
pencil into his pocket.
“The mantle of charity ought to be elastic, in my opinion,” said
Munchausen, “for if it was as large as the flag of Victory, that
reached from the Old Bailey to St. Paul’s, as the covering of Lord
Nelson’s virtues, it would not be half big enough to cover _some folk’s
sins_.”
“Probably you mean your own,” said the pedantic man of charity, “shall
I lend you my Dutch wrapper, as an additional covering? he! he! he!”
“No, thank you! thank you! you want it yourself,” replied Munchausen;
“beside, to tell you the truth, I don’t like the _lining_, it’s too
light and _flimsey_, the outside is a _specious sample_, but the
_inside part_ won’t answer my purposes--_seem warm_, and _be warm_, I
don’t admire gauze blankets--it’s also got a _double facing_, and that
I dislike.”
“That is the very reason why I offered it,” answered Mr. Earwig, “I
thought it would suit you exactly.”
At this moment of controversy, Rosa and Mrs. Markwell, on the arm of
the Rector, approached through the elm vista.
Munchausen, rushing to the window, on the intelligence, and applying
his glass to his quizzical eye, exclaimed, “there comes beauty, and
divinity--ye Gods preserve me from corruption! what a charming girl.”
“What a speech from a married man,” observed the Doctor.
“Poh,” replied Munchausen, “it was a public invocation to the gods: if
any married man makes _no worse speech_ in _private_, than I have done
publicly, he need not ask _you_ to blush for him, Doctor.”
By this time Rosa entered the room, and the exercise of walking had
suffused such a roseate blush on her angelic countenance, I never saw
her look so enchanting.
Lady Lustre received her with her usual engaging urbanity, and placed
her by her side on the same sopha. Oh, how I contemplated her lovely
form, reclining its elegant symmetry full on my opposite gaze, one
blooming rose adorned (if possible) her beauteous bosom, whilst another
was pinned into a chip hat that shaded one of the finest faces nature
ever moulded; her robe was the vesture of simplicity, formed of plain
white sarsnet.
“Dam’me,” exclaimed Munchausen, in a whisper to me, “I can’t sit it,
by G--d--I never saw such a d--d fine girl in my life--what a dog-day
picture of contemplation--are you, for God’s sake, transfixed in silent
adoration? or are you an inhabitant of Mont-Blanc, whom nothing but
a salamander could melt into feeling? Zounds, man, the famous Mirza
Abdallah has not such a woman in his Haram; look how the old Doctor
_screws_ his _funny_ eye at her: do also observe the swelling envy of
the daughters, Tonics, _versus_ Hygiæ--hey, my good fellow, did you
ever see such an angel?--I’m sure I, who am in the constant habits
in London of seeing and gallanting thousands at your _ram-cram_ city
balls, never! no, never! saw her equal!”
“She is extremely handsome,” replied I, non-chalantely, “and I dare
say you will presently be as much charmed with her conversation as her
person.”
“Oh! that I was five and twenty,” exclaimed Munchausen.
“Why, then,” replied Mr. Earwig (who had stuck himself by the side
of Rosa, peering close in her face, and offering her his _mocaba
tabatiere_) “you would be just half your age.”
“Is there any occasion to remind a man of his most formidable enemy?
the personal innovation of that hoary monarch, _Mister Time_, are quite
mortifying enough, without talking of _winter_ while the tree is in
_bloom_,” said Munchausen.
“I say, Earwig,” cried the witty Doctor, “Munchausen’s a pretty
_full grown blossom_, methinks; I suppose he’s German cousin to the
_evergreen_ family--hah! hah! hah!”
“No, no, he is the _genuine hereditary_ great-great-great grandson to
the celebrated Baron Munchausen--an absolute descendant, in every sense
of the word, his matchless polygraph in thought, _word_, and deed.”
“Pray, Sir, who might furnish you with my pedigree?” asked Munchausen.
“Yourself, Sir--you explore it to every body.”
Lady Lustre smiled, and so did Rosa, but Munchausen remained silent.
“I had a visit from Mr. Faddle this morning,” observed her ladyship.
“What,” interrupted the Doctor, “did he bring your ladyship a receipt
to make a plumb-pudding?--hem! hem! hem!”
“No, indeed, he did not,” replied Lady Lustre, “he called only with a
polite enquiry after my health--I invited him to join our party, and
meet Miss Fitzclarence, but he’s so wonderfully bashful, he declined.”
“I don’t wonder he’s a _coward_, where there’s such an object of
_danger_,” said Munchausen; “what think you, Mr. Victor?”
“Oh,” rejoined the Doctor, “I won’t allow Mr. Victor any judgment
in the business; Mr. Faddle might feel himself in eminent danger;
Munchausen has a heart to _lose_, but Mr. Victor has ne’er a one to
_lose_ or _find_ in this village--he is no longer the ladies’ Apollo
Belvidere, but their invulnerable Achilles; some London _elegante_ has
purloined the treasure, it seems, and sent us the casket.”
At this speech, Rosa, whose eyes had been fixed on Dr. Tonic, reverted
them on me, with such a glance of enquiry, as I would have given worlds
to explain, as the Doctor thus continued his ill-timed aggravating
discourse.
“Yes, yes, Mr. Victor, we shall be aware how you play the rogue amongst
us--shield your hearts, ladies--beware of the archer--I’m not in
joke--Nunkey will vouch for the truth--won’t you Mr. Tweazy?”
“I never suffer any body to catechise me but the _parson_,” replied my
uncle, “if Dr. Markwell asks me that question to-morrow morning, I
shall reveal the _truth_: but as private concerns should be privately
discussed, we’ll drop the subject, as I’m no pupil of buffoonery,
and I presume my nephew does not mean to obtain a wife by _public_
election--but in case it should be necessary, you’ll give him your
vote, and canvass for him, into the bargain, won’t you, Doctor?”
“It depends upon the object in view,” replied Tonic (leering at Rosa,
whose cheek had actually lost its roseate tint, and appeared much
embarrassed) “if Miss Fitzclarence was the point of contention, I’d
hold up both hands.”
“Oh, Miss Fitzclarence’s charms will canvass for her, without your
assistance,” replied Mr. Earwig; “when she stands candidate, it will
be a hollow election, without bribery or corruption, depend upon it.”
“Oh, don’t turn match-maker, Doctor Tonic, it’s a very unthankful
office,” said Lady Lustre; “I dare say,” continued she, “if Mr. St.
Alban has lost his heart, those who possess it will guard it with great
care and fidelity.”
“Of that your ladyship, I am well convinced,” replied I, fixing my
stedfast eye on that of Rosa, which at the instant meeting, spoke
eloquent for the beauteous blush remantled on her cheek.
“Come, come, gentleman, a truce to what don’t concern the moment;
general love is as nauseating as an emetic, while mutual love belongs
only to the disquisition of two, and is a palatable potion of _syrup of
roses_ mixed with _extract of thorns_,” said Lady Lustre.
“I wish to my soul, parson Faddle was here to pop down that receipt,”
cried Munchausen, “I’ll invent a few _nong-tong-paw_ dishes the next
time I see him; I’ll furnish him with a natty collection, I warrant me,
if he loves receipts: pray, what sort of a sermon does he dish up as
he’s so clever at cooking?”
“Oh, a very digestable one,” replied Dr. Markwell, “but, my dear Sir,
no reflections on the cloth, I can’t allow that, we must call another
topic.”
“We have discussed the two most divine upon earth, viz. Love and
Religion,” answered Munchausen.
“Suppose we drop both, and call another,” said Lady Lustre, “satirical
subjects are always dangerous.”