is represented. If he pulls down, he likewise builds up; if he
impoverishes one, he enriches another; his very dilapidations furnish
matter for new works of controversy, and his rust is more precious
than the most costly gilding. Under his plastic hand, trifles rise
into importance; the nonsense of one age becomes the wisdom of
another; the levity of the wit gravitates into the learning of the
pedant, and an ancient farthing moulders into infinitely more value
than a modern guinea.
THE FARM-HOUSE.
------"Love and hay
Are thick sown, but come up full of thistles."
--BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
I was so much pleased with the anecdotes which were told me of
Ready-Money Jack Tibbets, that I got Master Simon, a day or two since,
to take me to his house. It was an old-fashioned farm-house built with
brick, with curiously twisted chimneys. It stood at a little distance
from the road, with a southern exposure, looking upon a soft green
slope of meadow. There was a small garden in front, with a row of
bee-hives humming among beds of sweet herbs and flowers. Well-scoured
milking tubs, with bright copper hoops, hung on the garden paling.
Fruit trees were trained up against the cottage, and pots of flowers
stood in the windows. A fat, superannuated mastiff lay in the sunshine
at the door; with a sleek cat sleeping peacefully across him.
Mr. Tibbets was from home at the time of our calling, but we were
received with hearty and homely welcome by his wife; a notable,
motherly woman, and a complete pattern for wives; since, according to
Master Simon's account, she never contradicts honest Jack, and yet
manages to have her own way, and to control him in every thing.
She received us in the main room of the house, a kind of parlour and
hall, with great brown beams of timber across it, which Mr. Tibbets is
apt to point out with some exultation, observing, that they don't put
such timber in houses now-a-days. The furniture was old-fashioned,
strong, and highly polished; the walls were hung with coloured prints
of the story of the Prodigal Son, who was represented in a red coat
and leather breeches. Over the fire-place was a blunderbuss, and a
hard-favoured likeness of Ready-Money Jack, taken when he was a young
man, by the same artist that painted the tavern sign; his mother
having taken a notion that the Tibbets had as much right to have a
gallery of family portraits as the folks at the Hall.
The good dame pressed us very much to take some refreshment, and
tempted us with a variety of household dainties, so that we were glad
to compound by tasting some of her homemade wines. While we were
there, the son and heir-apparent came home; a good-looking young
fellow, and something of a rustic beau. He took us over the premises,
and showed us the whole establishment. An air of homely but
substantial plenty prevailed throughout; every thing was of the best
materials, and in the best condition. Nothing was out of place, or ill
made; and you saw every where the signs of a man that took care to
have the worth of his money, and that paid as he went.
The farm-yard was well stocked; under a shed was a taxed cart, in trim
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 every thing about him should fare
as well as he did himself.
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 any thing; 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 every thing 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 every thing 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 Tibbets',
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 their 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 Tibbets' 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 the
accidental breach; but, as is most commonly the case, the more she
meddled with this perverse inclination of the 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 wit's end. It is true 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 the 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 perplexed
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.
HORSEMANSHIP.
A coach was a strange monster in those days, and the sight 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 canibals 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 villainous 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 any thing 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 wrong-headed 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
the 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 quaint tracery. Though the main ground-work 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 Peachem, Markam, and such like
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 riding in 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
outbrave 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."
"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 yerke, to
go back, and sidelong, 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, slapdash, 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 country. 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've 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.
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 a 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 lustes were
betwene them, and thenne was love, trouthe, and feythfulnes; and lo in
lyke wyse was used love in King Arthur's dayes."[4]
[Footnote 4: Morte 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 his 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 attemptingto 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 my 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.
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 greater
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, slipt 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.
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, Poietiers,
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 Braithwate, the stately
amusement of 'high and mounting spirits;' for as the old Welsh proverb
affirms in those tunes, 'you might know a gentleman by his hawk,
horse, and grayhound.' 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 a
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, Juliana
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.