The arrival of Mr Primrose and Penelope at Smatterton gave trouble and
disturbance to many minds there, and at Neverden. We shall be fortunate
if, without tediousness, we can explain this.
Zephaniah Pringle was troubled, because he laboured under the
apprehension that some kind friend or other might communicate to the
father what had been said of the daughter. And Zephaniah very naturally
thought that the young lady's father would resent the insult very much
to the inconvenience, bodily or mental, of the said loyal and religious
critic.
The elder Mr Darnley was troubled, as we have already intimated, lest
this arrival should again unsettle the mind of his son. Mrs Darnley
also thought it was a pity, now Robert had so nearly recovered his
spirits, that there should be any probability of his being again
disturbed. Miss Mary Darnley, who, by frequent literary and scientific
discussions with the learned and scientific Mr Kipperson, had become
a great admirer of the gentleman, was jealous of the presence of Miss
Primrose again in the country. The two other young ladies, who did not
like to hear their father preach, except in the pulpit, were troubled
with the apprehension of long lectures on the impropriety of being
improperly in love.
Mr Kipperson also had his troubles; for though it would have given him
great pleasure to have gained the heart of Miss Primrose, he thought
he saw several formidable rivals among gentlemen of more suitable age.
But Mr Kipperson had too much self-love to suffer much from love of any
other description. Robert Darnley was troubled and perplexed, though
very much pleased. He now saw that he should have an opportunity of
ascertaining the truth: but in either case there was an evil. For if
Penelope still retained a regard for him, there was yet to be dreaded
the opposition of his father; and if she did not, the change would be
painful to him.
But the greatest trouble was at Neverden Hall. There was residing under
the roof of Sir George Aimwell a young lady, who had been consigned
to the care of the worthy baronet. The name of this lady was Arabella
Glossop. She had very recently been sent to Neverden by her careful
father, in order that time, absence, and change of scene, might
eradicate from her mind an unfortunate attachment which she had formed
for a pennyless lieutenant.
Here we cannot but suggest to our legislators an improvement, which
might and ought to be made in our military code. It is melancholy
to think how many instances have occurred of men of low family and
no fortune winning the hearts of young ladies of high birth, of
respectable connexions, and of good fortune. This might be prevented by
a law, making it felony for a military officer without fortune to fall
in love with a lady of good family.
Miss Glossop was not indeed of high family; but she was the daughter of
a gentleman whose family had with great diligence been pushing itself
up into consideration and importance. The mortification of anything
like a humiliating connexion was so much the greater. Mr Glossop, the
young lady's father, was an eminent solicitor in a small but genteel
town, and had married a distant relation of Sir George Aimwell. Of this
connexion Mr Glossop was naturally proud; and he made the most of it.
In the town where he lived was a theatre; and the company which
performed there was pronounced by such London performers as
occasionally lent their mighty selves for provincial exhibition, to
be one of the best provincial companies they had ever performed
with. When an actor from London made his appearance on the stage,
Miss Glossop honored the theatre with her presence. Greatly did the
young lady surprize the natives by her studied inattention to what was
passing on the stage. It was to her a mighty amusement to laugh and
talk aloud, especially during those passages of the performance which
were most interesting to the rest of the audience. By such means did
Miss Glossop manifest her own importance and superiority. This kind
of public rudeness passed with the ignorant people in the country for
elegance and fashion.
The young lady was in error in this respect. But not only was she wrong
in her calculations in this point. Many other blunders did she make.
For being very pretty, she thought herself handsome; and being tall,
she thought herself elegant; and being acquainted with many books, she
thought herself learned; and having a full, clear, comprehensive voice,
she thought herself a beautiful singer; and being able to perform at
sight very complicated pieces of music, she apprehended that she was an
excellent musician; and being rude and blunt in her manner of speaking,
she thought herself a person of great intellectual superiority; and
from being very much stared at, she took it for granted that she was
very much admired.
Now this lady did not apprehend that there was any individual in the
compass of her provincial acquaintance worthy to aspire to the honor
of her hand; and she was in the habit of giving herself such arrogant
and domineering airs at the country balls, that a facetiously inclined
young gentleman once actually contrived in the advertisement announcing
these balls, to have the name of Arabella Glossop, Esq., printed as one
of the stewards. The circumstance caused a great deal of talk at the
time; but it is now totally forgotten, or at least very seldom alluded
to. The printer of the paper was forced to tell a great many lies to
save himself from serious inconvenience.
At one of these country balls there happened to be a lieutenant who was
quartered in that neighbourhood, and was a person of exceedingly good
address, and also of good understanding, except that he was so very
desirous of obtaining a fortune, that, for the sake of money, he would
willingly have married Miss Glossop. He had heard reports of the lady's
fortune, and these reports were of course exaggerated. He paid the
usual attentions, and was so far successful that, had it not been for
some untoward accident, Mr Glossop's ambition of matching his daughter
with some gentleman of fortune and consideration in the county, would
have been frustrated by a poor lieutenant.
As soon as the unfortunate attachment was made known to the father, he
put himself with all suitable speed into a most towering passion; he
banged all the doors, thumped all the tables, kicked all the chairs,
and, but for the interference of Mrs Glossop, would have broken all
the crockery in the house, because his daughter would not listen to
reason. The young lady was locked up; but the young lady grew sulky,
and thought that her dear lieutenant was the most charming creature in
the world, because her father was in a violent passion. And the more
angry was Mr Glossop, the more deeply in love was Miss Glossop.
We have said that the young lady was locked up. Now Arabella did not
like this discipline, and she seriously threatened her inexorable
paa, that if she was not suffered to have her own way, she would
either starve herself to death, or go mad. This last idea was no doubt
suggested by a pathetic passage in one of Oliver Goldsmith's poems,
wherein he says:
"The dog to gain his private ends
Went mad."----
Whatever apprehensions Mr Glossop might entertain concerning his
daughter's madness, he certainly had some slight idea that he himself
might be driven mad by the young lady's perverseness and obstinacy.
Therefore he adopted the very wise and prudent precaution, in such
cases made and provided, of sending the lovely and loving Arabella to
his worthy friend and relative, Sir George Aimwell, Bart.
Mr Glossop wisely thought that absence and change of scene might
produce a beneficial change in his daughter's mind. The worthy baronet
was pleased with the charge; for as the shooting season was nearly
over, and as he had suffered very bitterly from the encroachments of
the poachers, and as the transgressing ones had made their escape, he
was glad of anything that promised him a little amusement. Arabella had
always been a favorite with the baronet on account of her high spirit,
and when he heard of the nature of the complaint which rendered change
of air desirable, he very readily undertook the charge, thinking that
a better remedy was within reach, and that Robert Darnley might very
probably banish from the mind of his young kinswoman all thoughts of
the poor lieutenant.
Nor did the baronet judge unwisely. For, as soon as the lady had taken
up her abode at Neverden Hall, her spirits revived, and her wit and
humour were all alive again, and her love of admiration was as strong
as ever, and she very soon pronounced Robert Darnley to be a charming
young fellow. The worthy baronet was pleased with such good symptoms,
and had written word to her father accordingly. To a match of this
nature Mr Glossop had no very great objection. The Darnleys were of
good family, and the young man was likely to have a good property.
Perhaps, Mr Glossop would have preferred an union with the family of
the Earl of Smatterton; but at all events the Darnleys were better than
poor lieutenants.
The circumstance of Arabella Glossop being placed under the care of
Sir George Aimwell, had rendered the intercourse between the hall and
the rectory rather more frequent than usual; and the baronet had of
course been made acquainted with the fact of Robert Darnley's former
engagement to Miss Primrose. When, therefore, Penelope and her father
made their appearance at Smatterton again, and thus gave a virtual
contradiction to the calumnious report which Mr Zephaniah Pringle had
circulated, Sir George began to be apprehensive that his schemes with
regard to the son of the rector of Neverden were very likely to fail.
We have now explained according to the best of our ability, and in
as few words as distinctness would permit us to use, the varied
perplexities occasioned by the apparently simple fact of Mr Primrose
and his daughter taking up their abode at Smatterton rectory. Oh! how
complicated are the interests of humanity, and what mighty changes
are made in the history of the world and the destiny of nations by
movements apparently trifling and of no moment. Common people do not
observe these things; it is only such wise people, gentle reader, as
you and I and Tacitus, that can take a philosophical and comprehensive
view of the history of man. But we must economise our wisdom, or it
will not hold out. Therefore let us proceed with our history.
The letter which Robert Darnley had written to Mr Primrose, and which
the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill had fruitlessly fumbled and tumbled
to ascertain the contents thereof, found its way at last into the hands
for which it was by its writer originally destined. It was brought to
Smatterton, as usual, by Nick Muggins.
Nick was a poor lad and a somewhat simple one, though not altogether
lacking craftiness. He was not so rich as an archdeacon, but he had not
quite determined that he was too poor to keep a conscience; therefore
he had not entirely given it up for a bad job. He kept a pony--he was
almost forced to do so--but he kept his pony very scantily and worked
it hardly, and the beast was at best but a queer kind of animal. It
would have been a riddle to Buffon, and a treasure to Sir Joseph Banks.
Nick's conscience was kept about as scurvily as his pony, and was much
such another nondescript; but, like his pony, it answered his purpose
as well as a better; it was kicked, cuffed, and buffeted about, but
still it was a conscience.
Now this conscience, such as it was, smote poor Muggins right heartily
when he delivered into the fair hands of Penelope Primrose a letter for
her father. The poor lad recollected that he had, at Lord Spoonbill's
expense, drunk several more quarts of strong beer and glasses of gin
than would otherwise have fallen to his lot, and that he had obtained
these extra luxuries by putting into the hands of his lordship those
letters which he ought to have delivered to Penelope Primrose.
When Penelope left Smatterton, and was residing in London, Nick thought
little or nothing concerning his treachery. But now she had returned
to the country again, and he had seen her, and she had spoken to him
kindly and civilly, and had condescended to make enquiries after his
poor old mother, his heart melted within him, and he could hardly speak
to her. It was very kind of her to come out and speak to him, there was
not one young lady in a hundred who would have condescended so much.
Poor Muggins could not think what had bewitched him to play the traitor
to so beautiful, so elegant, and so sweet-tempered a young lady as Miss
Primrose; for Nick had a notion of elegance and beauty, though, to look
at himself and his pony, one would hardly have imagined it.
That was a curious refinement in Nick's conscience, that he should
reproach himself so much the more bitterly for his transgression,
because the person whom he had injured was beautiful and
sweet-tempered. Perhaps he would have thought less of the matter had
Miss Primrose been a little, under-sized, snub-nosed, cross-grained
old maid. But that is a very dangerous and wicked mode of reasoning,
and wiser people than Nick Muggins are guilty of it; let such persons
be told that under-sized, snub-nosed, cross-grained old maids have as
much feeling as the rest of the world, and are as much entitled to the
advantages and protection of the laws of humanity as the young, and the
lovely, and the amiable.
Be this as it may, still the ungainly post-boy felt rather awkwardly
and looked foolishly when he thus encountered the unexpected appearance
and condescension of Penelope Primrose. And when he returned home
to his mother's cottage, he could not help acknowledging to her his
transgressions, and speaking of the remorse that he felt.
The old woman however thought and said, that what was done could not be
undone, and that he had better be more cautious another time, and that
mayhap it might not be a matter of much consequence; just a love affair
like, or some sich stuff; and she concluded by telling him never to
take money out of letters for fear of being hanged.
"But I am so sorry, mother," said Nick, "you can't think what
a nice, kind young lady Miss Primrose is."
"Ay, ay," said Mrs Muggins, in reply, "and so is my Lord Spoonbill a
very nice young gentleman. Never mind now, only don't do so again. And
what's the use of your telling Miss Primrose anything about it?"
"Oh why, because somehow I think it was such a pity like. She is so
pretty."
"Nonsense, boy; Lord Spoonbill is a person of much greater consequence
than a dozen pretty Miss Primroses. I am sure he is as nice a man as
ever lived."
Nick muttered something about Lord Spoonbill's large whiskers, and the
colloquy ceased; but Nick was fidgetty still.
The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill suffered much uneasiness, and would,
had he known what was passing in the mind of Nick Muggins, have
suffered much more. But our business is now with the good people at
Smatterton and Neverden, and we must therefore leave his lordship to
bear his troubles by himself as well as he can.