AVERSION SUBDUED.—A Drama.

Arbury—Belford, walking.

Belford.Pray, who is the present possessor of the Brookby estate?

Arbury.A man of the name of Goodwin.

Bel.Is he a good neighbour to you?

Arb.Far from it! and I wish he had settled a hundred miles off, rather than come here to spoil our neighbourhood.

Bel.I am sorry to hear that; but what is your objection to him?

Arb.O, there is nothing in which we agree. In the first place he is quite of the other side in politics; and that, you know, is enough to prevent all intimacy.

Bel.I am not entirely of that opinion; but what else?

Arb.He is no sportsman, and refuses to join in our association for protecting the game. Neither does he choose to be a member of any of our clubs.

Bel.Has he been asked?

Arb.I don’t know that he has directly; but he might easily propose himself, if he liked it. But he is of a close, unsociable temper, and I believe very niggardly.

Bel.How has he shown it?

Arb.His style of living is not equal to his fortune; and I have heard of several instances of his attention to petty economy.

Bel.Perhaps he spends money in charity?

Arb.Not he, I dare say. It was but last week that a poor fellow who had lost his all by a fire went to him with a subscription paper, in which were the names of all the gentlemen in the neighbourhood; and all the answer he got was that he would consider of it.

Bel.And did he consider?

Arb.I don’t know, but I suppose it was only an excuse. Then his predecessor had a park well stocked with deer, and used to make liberal presents of venison to all his neighbours. But this frugal gentleman has sold them all off, and got a flock of sheep instead.

Bel.I don’t see much harm in that, now mutton is so dear.

Arb.To be sure he has a right to do as he pleases with his park, but that is not the way to be beloved, you know. As to myself, I have reason to believe he bears me particular ill-will.

Bel.Then he is much in the wrong, for I believe you are as free from ill-will to others as any man living. But how has he shown it, pray?

Arb.In twenty instances. He had a horse upon sale the other day to which I took a liking, and bid money for it. As soon as he found I was about it, he sent it off to a fair on the other side of the county. My wife, you know, is passionately fond of cultivating flowers. Riding lately by his grounds, she observed something new, and took a great longing for a root or cutting of it. My gardener mentioned her wish to his, (contrary, I own, to my inclination,) and he told his master; but instead of obliging her, he charged the gardener on no account to touch the plant. A little while ago I turned off a man for saucy behaviour; but as he had lived many years with me, and was a very useful servant, I meant to take him again upon his submission, which I did not doubt would soon happen. Instead of that, he goes and offers himself to my civil neighbour, who, without deigning to apply to me even for a character, entertains him immediately. In short, he has not the least of a gentleman about him, and I would give anything to be well rid of him.

Bel.Nothing, to be sure, can be more unpleasant, in the country, thana bad neighbour, and I am concerned it is your lot to have one. But there is a man who seems as if he wanted to speak with you.

[A Countryman approaches.

Arb.Ah! it is the poor fellow that was burnt out. Well, Richard, how go you on?—what has the subscription produced you?

Richard.Thank your honour, my losses are nearly all made up.

Arb.I am very glad of that; but when I saw the paper last, it did not reach half way.

Rich.It did not, sir; but you may remember asking me what Mr. Goodwin had done for me, and I told you he took time to consider of it. Well, sir, I found that the very next day he had been at our town, and had made very particular inquiry about me and my losses, among my neighbours. When I called upon him in a few days after, he told me he was very glad to find that I bore such a good character, and that the gentlemen round had so kindly taken up my case; and he would prevent the necessity of my going any farther for relief. Upon which, he gave me, God bless him! a draft upon his banker for fifty pounds.

Arb.Fifty pounds!

Rich.Yes, sir—it has made me quite my own man again; and I am now going to purchase a new cart and team of horses.

Arb.A noble gift, indeed; I could never have thought it! Well, Richard, I rejoice at your good fortune. I am sure you are much obliged to Mr. Goodwin.

Rich.Indeed, I am, sir, and to all my good friends. God bless you!

[Goes on.

Bel.Niggardliness, at least, is not this man’s foible.

Arb.No—I was mistaken in that point. I wronged him, and I am sorry for it. But what a pity it is that men of real generosity should not be amiable in their manners, and as ready to oblige in trifles as in matters of consequence.

Bel.True—‘tis a pity when that is really the case.

Arb.How much less an exertion it would have been to have shown some civility about a horse or a flower-root!

Bel.Apropos of flowers!—there’s your gardener carrying a large one in a pot.

Enter Gardener.

Arb.Now, James, what have you got there?

Gardener.A flower, sir, for madam, from Mr. Goodwin’s.

Arb.How did you come by it?

Gard.His gardener, sir, sent me word to come for it. We should have had it before, but Mr. Goodwin thought it would not move safely.

Arb.I hope he has got more of them?

Gard.He has only a seedling plant or two, sir; but hearing that madam took a liking to it, he resolved to send it her, and a choice thing it is! I have a note for madam in my pocket.

Arb.Well, go on.

[Exit Gardener.

Bel.Methinks this does not look like deficiency in civility?

Arb.No—it is a very polite action—I ca’n’t deny it, and I am obliged to him for it. Perhaps, indeed, he may feel he owes me a little amends.

Bel.Possibly—it shows hecanfeel, however.

Arb.It does. Ha! there’s Yorkshire Tom coming with a string of horses from the fair. I’ll step up and speak to him. Now, Tom! how have horses gone at Market-hill?

Tom.Dear enough, your honour!

Arb.How much more did you get for Mr. Goodwin’s mare than I offered him?

Tom.Ah! sir, that was not a thing for your riding, and that Mr Goodwin well knew. You never saw such a vicious toad. She had liked to have killed the groom two or three times. So I was ordered to offer her to the mail-coach people, and get what I could from them. I might have sold her better if Mr. Goodwin would have let me, for she was a fine creature to look at as need be, and quite sound.

Arb.And was that the true reason why the mare was not sold to me?

Tom.It was, indeed, sir.

Arb.Then I am highly obliged to Mr. Goodwin. (Tom rides on.) This was handsome behaviour, indeed!

Bel.Yes, I think it was somewhat more than politeness—it was real goodness of heart.

Arb.It was. I find I must alter my opinion of him, and I do it with pleasure. But, after all, his conduct with respect to my servant is somewhat unaccountable.

Bel.I see reason to think so well of him in the main, that I am inclined to hope he will be acquitted in this matter, too.

Arb.There the fellow is. I wonder he has my old livery on yet!

[Ned approaches, pulling off his hat.

Ned.Sir, I was coming to your honour.

Arb.What can you have to say to me now, Ned?

Ned.To ask pardon for my misbehaviour, and to beg you to take me again.

Arb.What—have you so soon parted with your new master?

Ned.Mr. Goodwin never was my master, sir. He only kept me in his house till I could make it up with you again; for he said he was sure you were too honourable a gentleman to turn off an old servant without good reason, and he hoped you would admit my excuses after your anger was over.

Arb.Did he say all that?

Ned.Yes, sir; and he advised me not to delay any longer to ask your pardon.

Arb.Well—go to my house, and I will talk with you on my return.

Bel.Now, my friend, what think you of this?

Arb.I think more than I can well express. It will be a lesson to me never to make hasty judgments again.

Bel.Why, indeed, to have concluded that such a man had nothing of the gentleman about him must have been rather hasty.

Arb.I acknowledge it. But it is the misfortune of these reserved characters that they are so long in making themselves known; though, when they are known, they often prove the most truly estimable. I am afraid, even now, that I must be content with esteeming him at a distance.

Bel.Why so?

Arb.You know I am of an open sociable disposition.

Bel.Perhaps he is so, too.

Arb.If he was, surely we should have been better acquainted before this time.

Bel.It may have been prejudice rather than temper that has kept you apart.

Arb.Possibly so. The vile spirit of party has such a sway in the country, that men of the most liberal dispositions can hardly free themselves from its influence. It poisons all the kindness of society; and yonder comes an instance of its pernicious effects.

Bel.Who is he?

Arb.A poor schoolmaster with a large family in the next market-town, who has lost all his scholars by his activity on our side in the last election. I heartily wish it was in my power to do something for him; for he is a very honest man, though, perhaps, rather too warm. [The schoolmaster comes up.] Now, Mr. Penman, how do things go with you?

Pen.I thank you, sir, they have gone poorly enough, but I hope they are in a way to mend.

Arb.I am glad to hear it—but how?

Pen.Why, sir, the free-school of Stoke is vacant, and I believe I am likely to get it.

Arb.Ay!—I wonder at that. I thought it was in the hands of the other party?

Pen.It is, sir; but Mr. Goodwin has been so kind as to give me a recommendation, and his interest is sufficient to carry it.

Arb.Mr. Goodwin! you surprise me!

Pen.I was much surprised, too, sir. He sent for me of his own accord, (for I should never have thought of askinghima favour,) and told me he was sorry a man should be injured in his profession on account of party, and as I could not live comfortably where I was, he would try to settle me in a better place. So he mentioned the vacancy of Stoke, and offered me letters for the trustees. I was never so affected in my life, sir; I could hardly speak to return him thanks. He kept me to dinner, and treated me with the greatest respect. Indeed, I believe there is not a kinder man breathing than Mr. Goodwin.

Arb.You have the best reason in the world to say so, Mr. Penman. What—did he converse familiarly with you?

Pen.Quite so, sir. We talked a great deal about party affairs in this neighbourhood, and he lamented much that differences of this kind should keep worthy men at a distance from each other. I took the liberty, sir, of mentioning your name. He said he had not the honour of being acquainted with you, but he had a sincere esteem for your character, and should be glad of any occasion to cultivate a friendship with you. For my part, I confess, to my shame I did not think there could have been such a man on that side.

Arb.Well—good morning!

Pen.Your most obedient, sir.

[He goes.

Arb.(After some silence.) Come, my friend, let us go.

Bel.Whither?

Arb.Can you doubt it?—to Mr. Goodwin’s, to be sure! After all I have heard, can I exist a moment without acknowledging the injustice I have done him, and begging his friendship?

Bel.I shall be happy, I am sure, to accompany you on that errand. But who is to introduce us?

Arb.O, what are form and ceremony in a case like this! Come—come.

Bel.Most willingly.

[Exeunt.

EVENING XVIII.

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