Lord Spoonbill was not like Cato. For history records of the latter
that he preferred being good to seeming so: Lord Spoonbill had no great
objection to being a rogue, but did not like to be thought one. It was
therefore not very pleasant for him to be placed in that dilemma, of
which we made mention in the last chapter. He saw, or at least had good
reason to think that he saw, that Mr Darnley was bent on renewing the
acquaintance with Miss Primrose; and he also feared that Penelope had
not sufficiently forgotten her first lover.
There also occurred to his mind the thought that it was possible for
Mr Darnley to make a journey to London for a personal explanation, if
the letter to Mr Primrose should not be answered. This consideration
suggested to his lordship the necessity of taking prompt and decided
measures. He saw that no chance remained for him but in the way of
matrimony. He certainly dreaded the encounter with his right honorable
parents; but, if he could not live without Penelope, it was absolutely
necessary that he should take steps to live with her.
This is a very proper place wherein to make a digression concerning
the omnipotence of love; and here we ought to be extremely pathetic,
shewing and demonstrating with heart-rending eloquence, how
irresistible is this universal passion: and perhaps some of our
readers, not many we hope, may think that we ought to make a very
sentimental defence of Lord Spoonbill, as some of our predecessors
in the history of lovers have made of those idle cubs who have shewn
their refinement and sensibility by seducing engaged or betrothed
affections. But we do not believe in the omnipotence of love; and we
do not think Lord Spoonbill at all deserving of pity. Falling in love
with Penelope was on his part perfectly voluntary, deliberate, wilful,
and intentional. It is all very possible and very plausible for an
inexperienced and thoughtless youth to find himself mightily attached
to a young woman before he is aware almost of the existence of the
passion; but this was not the case with Lord Spoonbill. When he saw
Miss Primrose he admired her; when he became more acquainted with her,
he liked her; and, from pursuing, he loved her. But he knew from the
first that she was otherwise engaged; and his designs towards her had
been degrading.
We have dwelt long, and perhaps tediously, on Lord Spoonbill's
embarrassment; we have done so intentionally, because that
embarrassment dwelt tediously on his mind, and it was necessary,
for the sake of accuracy in the picture, to represent the case not
transiently, but copiously.
The result of the right honorable hereditary legislator's meditation
was, that as it was not possible for him to live without Penelope, and
as delay might expose him to the danger of being compelled to do that
which he knew to be impossible, he would take the earliest opportunity
of making regular and deliberate overtures of marriage. And he felt
satisfied that the fascination of title and the splendour of opulence
would be too much for a female heart to withstand. There was also
another thought on which he grounded his hopes: he considered that
the affection which Penelope had for her father would induce her more
readily to accept an offer which would provide her with the means of
assisting him.
With this resolution he returned home; as he thought that it might be
more advisable to communicate his intention to the parties concerned
by letter than by word of mouth. Probably his lordship might imagine
that, if thus Mr Primrose were made acquainted with the magnificent
offer that awaited his daughter's acceptance, paternal pride would be
gratified, and paternal authority might be added to other motives,
inducing the young lady's compliance. Lord Spoonbill was by no means
fastidious as to the manner in which he gained his object, provided
that the object was gained.
His lordship dined that day at home. During dinner he was silent, and
looked almost sulky. The Earl and Countess inferred from these looks
that their hopeful son was on the eve of saying or doing something not
very agreeable to his parents; for he most usually prefaced an act
of opposition to their will by putting himself into an ill-humour.
This is a refined piece of domestic tactics. None however but spoiled
children can use it with proper dexterity and complete success. When a
wife wishes to persuade her husband out of his senses, or to guide him
against his better judgment, her prelude is generally an extraordinary
degree of sweetness, and her preface is made of witching smiles; and
then the husband thinks that it would be cruel to convert such smiles
into tears, and he passively yields to the power of the silent logic
of the laughing eye. But the policy of a great overgrown booby is
different. The spoiled blockhead knows that no art of his can give
extra loveliness to his looks in the eyes of his fond parents. His own
precious numskull is to them the ne plus ultra of human excellence.
But if that sweet face is darkened by a frown, and if the dear pet is
sulky, cross-grained, and ill-humoured, then anything and everything
must be conceded to bring him back to his good-humour again.
"Spoonbill, are you unwell?" said Lord Smatterton.
"No," replied Spoonbill in a style of sulky abruptness, which Tony
Lumpkin himself might have envied.
"You seem to be quite out of spirits to-day:" said the Countess, in one
of her most agreeable and winning tones.
"One cannot be always laughing and talking," was the uncourteous and
ungrateful reply.
Then followed a long pause. The Earl and Countess scarcely dared
to speak to each other, and Lord Spoonbill pertinaciously held his
peace. Now such a state of things cannot last long; it is absolutely
unbearable. Very soon after the servants had left the room, as the
young man's silence and sulkiness yet continued, Lord Smatterton, who
thought himself a bit of a politician, gave her ladyship a hint to
indulge them with her absence.
When they were alone, the Earl of Smatterton thus addressed his hopeful
son: "Spoonbill, I fear that something is preying upon your mind. May I
be permitted to know what it is that disturbs you?"
Lord Spoonbill did not make any reply to this consolatory
interrogation: for he felt very well satisfied that the communication
of the cause of his concern would not be very likely to remove it. He
therefore thought it best to contrive, if it could be so managed, to
let the truth come out gradually, and to bring his father to guess,
than to tell abruptly, the cause of his oppression.
"You are silent," said the Earl of Smatterton. Lord Spoonbill knew that
without requiring to be told of it. The Earl then continued:
"Why should you conceal from me anything that concerns and interests
you? I am only desirous of promoting your welfare; and, if in any
matter I can serve you, command me."
It is quite contrary to our notions of propriety that sons should
command their parents; it was also contrary to Lord Smatterton's ideas
of his own dignity that any one should dictate to him; but in the
present instance he adopted the courtier's language. As his son did not
seem disposed to command him, the father felt very much inclined to
command his son, and to insist with mighty dignity on knowing the cause
of this strange behaviour. But Lord Spoonbill was rather too old to be
treated like a boy. His lordship would not be snubbed; but he could not
always escape a lecturing.
There is this difference between the rational and irrational part of
the creation; that, among the irrational animals, the parents are in
haste to give their offspring a hint of their independence; but among
rational beings, the young ones are more in haste to throw off their
dependence than parents to renounce their authority or withdraw their
protection. One reason perhaps for this arrangement is, that rational
youngsters are not quite so well able to guide and to take care of
themselves as irrational animals are.
The feeling of which we are here speaking operated very powerfully in
the minds of Lord Smatterton and his son. The father was especially
fond of authority, and the son as fond of independence: but the father
held the purse, and there lay the great secret of his power. Lord
Spoonbill knew that he could not marry Miss Primrose without the
consent of more parties than himself and the young lady; he knew that
the means of an establishment must be contributed by his own right
honorable father; and therefore his consideration was, how to obtain
that consent, and how to reconcile his father's well-known horror of
plebeianism with his own marriage, with the daughter of a man who had
originally sprung from the City. To have made the proposal flatly and
plainly, would have put the Earl into a most tremendous passion. It was
therefore necessary to have recourse to management.
Finding that the Earl was slow in uttering conjectures, Lord Spoonbill
was compelled to give broader hints; and for that purpose he rose
from his seat and walked to the fire-place, and put his elbow on the
chimney-piece, and his hand upon his forehead, and sighed--oh, how he
did sigh! He would have been a fine subject for Chantrey; but neither
Chantrey nor any one else could have immortalized that magnificent
sigh.
At this movement the Earl started, and exclaimed: "Are you in love,
Spoonbill?"
"Suppose I am, sir;" replied the son of the patrician, "and what
then?"
"What then!" echoed Lord Smatterton; "that very much depends on the
person who has engaged your affections. If it be a suitable connexion,
I shall throw no impediment in your way."
"But, perhaps, what may appear a suitable connexion to me may not
appear in the same light to you."
"Of course you will not think of marrying a woman of no understanding."
"Certainly not," replied Lord Spoonbill cheerfully and confidently;
"I could not bear to live with a wife who was not a person of
intellect."
Some of our readers might not have expected this remark from Lord
Smatterton, or this reply from Lord Spoonbill; but let those readers
look out among their acquaintance for a great blockhead, and let
them talk to him about intellect, and they will not wonder that Lord
Spoonbill had a fancy for an intellectual wife. There is, now a-days, a
great demand for intellect, and a demand will always create a supply of
some sort or other.
"And I think," continued the Earl of Smatterton, "that I know your
opinions on that subject too well to suppose that you would ever
degrade yourself so far as to marry a person of low birth."
Lord Spoonbill bit his lips; and said, "I would never marry a woman of
vulgar manners, whatever might be her birth."
"You are right," said the Earl; "but why can you not tell me at once,
without all this circumlocution, who is the lady that is destined to
the honor of becoming Lady Spoonbill?"
Here the young man hesitated and demurred, and endeavoured to say
something that should amount to nothing. But the Earl was not content
to be put off evasively, and pressed so hard, that at length the secret
was extorted. Then was the Lord of Smatterton exceedingly astonished
and grieved, and he groaned and shook his head most solemnly, and in a
tone of great anguish of mind, said;
"Oh, Spoonbill! Spoonbill! That you should ever have come to this! And
have you made the young woman an offer of your hand?"
"I have," replied the son, who thought that the readiest way of
bringing the matter to a conclusion would be to avow it at once.
But, when the Earl farther enquired whether the offer had been accepted
or not, the young lord was under the necessity of acknowledging that
it had not been exactly accepted, but that he had no doubt it would
be. This was a curious piece of refinement in the art of lying. Lord
Spoonbill was too scrupulous to commit himself by a downright palpable
falsehood, which might be detected, but instead of that he had recourse
to one of those lies, which are not so easy of detection, but which
answer quite as well the purpose of deceit. It was quite as much a
lie to say that he had no doubt that his offer would be accepted, as
it would have been to say that it had already been accepted. But the
one lie might have been detected, the other could not. He had doubts
of his acceptance, and serious doubts too; but he thought that if the
young lady and her father found that the match was countenanced by
the Earl, and, if proposals could be fairly and fully made before Mr
Darnley should have an opportunity of holding any intercourse with Miss
Primrose or her father, there was a possibility of success.
This information was indeed melancholy news to Lord Smatterton, who had
enjoyed and pleased himself with the thought that he had to boast of
true patrician blood, and who looked forward to see his only son uphold
the dignity of his house. There is a pleasure in greatness which none
but great ones know. It had been the pride of the Earl of Smatterton
to look down with contempt on such noble families as had degraded
themselves by admixture with plebeian blood. Now all his sneers and
sarcasms, he thought, would be turned against himself, and it pained
him to think that it might be said of him, "that is Lord Smatterton,
whose son married a woman from the City."
His lordship knew that his son was obstinate and headstrong, and he saw
that there was no mode of preventing the catastrophe, if the young man
had set his mind upon it. But notwithstanding he knew that opposition
must be fruitless, he could not help speaking in his own peculiarly
emphatic manner against the proposed match.
"Spoonbill," said the Earl, "marry Miss Primrose if you please; but
remember"--here his lordship made a most magnificent pause--"remember
that your establishment must be from the fortune of your destined
bride. From me you have nothing."
Had circumstances been otherwise than they were, and not requiring
such despatch, Lord Spoonbill would not have heeded this speech. He
would have known that ultimately he should succeed with his magnificent
father; but his object was to come to a speedy decision; he wished
to be able at once to make a decided proposal. At this remark of his
father Lord Spoonbill was angry and sulky, and he pettishly replied; "I
think I have a right to marry as I please."
"And I also have a right to use my property as I please; and I
will never consent to appropriate any part of it to the purpose of
introducing a woman of low birth into my family."
It may be very well supposed by our readers, that the discussion on
this interesting topic between Lord Smatterton and his son did not end
here; and we shall not be blamed for omitting the remainder of the
angry discussion between father and son on this very interesting and
delicate topic. It may be very easily imagined that the son went on
grumbling, and that the father went on prosing, for a considerable
length of time, and that they did not arrive at any satisfactory
conclusion.
It may be also very easily imagined that when the melancholy
intelligence was communicated to Lady Smatterton, her ladyship must
have suffered very acutely when she found that her beloved and only
child had so far forgotten the pure and high principles in which he
had been nourished, as to think of bringing misery and disgrace into a
noble family, by letting down the Spoonbills to an alliance with the
Primroses.
It is a pity that in these days of invention and ingenuity no
contrivance can be hit upon for preventing such miserable and
heart-breaking casualties, as patrician youths falling in love with
plebeian damsels. The "order" of hereditary legislators has been in
many instances most cruelly and mercilessly invaded by impertinent,
instrusive plebeians. Sometimes love and sometimes necessity have
compelled an union between the high and low; and yet, notwithstanding
these painful and melancholy admixtures, patricianism has kept up a
very pretty spirit of distinctness, and does yet contain some choice
specimens of the finer sorts of humanity. How much more magnificent and
sublime patricianism might have been but for these admixtures, it is
impossible to say.
It is enough however for our present purpose to observe that, with all
the power which Lord Spoonbill, as an only one and a spoiled child,
possessed over his parents, he was not able, even with the additional
force of his sulkiness and ill-humour, to bring them to assent to
the ill-assorted union which he contemplated. The Earl and Countess
of Smatterton could not give their consent to such a humiliating and
degrading connexion. They did not indeed know who or what Mr Primrose
was, but they did know who and what he was not. They knew that he was
not of their set; that he was not a man of family or title, and that
whatever property he might possess, he had acquired it by his own
diligence or wit. Now that was an abomination, an indelible disgrace,
a reproach not easily to be wiped away. They took it for granted,
indeed, that Mr Primrose had some property; but if they had known that
even the little property which he had was placed in jeopardy, their
indignation would have been greater still at the folly of their own
and only precious pet essaying to unite himself with a young woman who
had nothing to recommend her but the possession of almost every virtue
that can adorn the female character, united with a strong and masculine
understanding, and embellished with gracefulness of manners, gentleness
of deportment, and a moral dignity, which was high enough to look down
with indifference on the accidental distinctions of society.
All that Lord Spoonbill could gain from his inexorable and right
honorable parents, was a promise that they would think about it.