CHAPTER III.
The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill we will leave to travel to London and a hundred miles farther, even down to the newly-purchased borough, where we will leave him to make his insulting and hypocritical bows to the poor, mean-spirited, bought and sold, place-hunting, booby-praising, supple, transferable, soulless dolts, who, being taught to fetch and carry, to stand on their hind legs, and feed out of a great man’s trough, and to yelp loyalty or sedition, as the case may be and their purchasers may dictate, suffer themselves to be called “free and independent” without having spirit enough to kick the right honorable cubs that call them so.
Colonel Crop remained at Smatterton, under a strict charge from Lord Spoonbill to keep an eye on the young lady, and to use his best endeavours to forward the designs of his lordship. This gallant officer undertook his commission with great hopes of success, and with perfect confidence in his own wisdom; and, in pursuance of his precious scheme, made an early call on Sir George Aimwell on the morning on which Lord Spoonbill took his departure from town.
Sir George and the colonel were very good friends. They had many points of sympathy. They were both of them great admirers of good cookery. They had both a great abhorrence of unnecessary trouble. They both thought that the only use for a gentleman to make of books was to stick them on a shelf, or lock them in a closet. They both thought that the common people were very vulgar, insolent, low-lived creatures, and almost wondered that nature hadnot formed them to go on four legs. With many other sympathies of this nature the gallant colonel and the worthy magistrate were mightily well pleased with each other.
When therefore the colonel made his second visit to Neverden, the baronet was delighted with the attention, and anticipated with much satisfaction sufficient talk to keep him awake till dinner time.
“So, colonel,” said the unpaid one, “you have the compassion to come and see me now the shooting season is quite over. This I call really an act of friendship. But did you actually know that yesterday was the last day of the season?”
“’Pon honor, Sir George,” replied the half-paid one, “I never thought about it; but if I had it would have made no difference.”
“You are very polite, colonel, and honest withal, and that cannot be said of every one.”
The baronet having thus spoken laughed, andthe colonel, to shew his politeness, laughed too, but he did not know why, unless it were for sympathy.
“But, colonel,” continued the gratuitous dispenser of hedge and ditch and steel-trap and spring-gun justice, “what is the meaning of this almost flying visit which my Lord Spoonbill has just now paid to Smatterton? My people told me this morning that the young gentleman was off by daybreak, posting back again to town.”
Colonel Crop looked wise, or screwed his features into that kind of expression which he was pleased to think wise; and with that kind of tone which almost asks for incredulity, and intimates that at least only part of the truth is told, he replied: “His lordship came down to give orders about some improvements to be made at the castle.”
This expression answered the purpose, and the curious baronet, being from the nature of his office accustomed to the interrogative system, proceeded with a sceptical smile to ask: “Ah,colonel, are you sure that is all? Is not there some sly amour going on? His lordship is a wild young dog, I have heard.”
Thereat the baronet chuckled, and the colonel smiled so gently and so silently that Lord Chesterfield himself would not have pronounced him vulgar or ill bred. And the two worthy ones looked at each other very knowingly; and thus the colonel let out the secret without speaking a word. Some persons may imagine that the mode in which the baronet spoke of the amatory transgressions of Lord Spoonbill was rather too flippant for a magistrate; and those persons may perhaps be right; but let us not omit to tell those persons, that this same magistrate, when engaged in the discharge of his magisterial duties, and when sitting on the bench, looked as wise and as grave and as demure as any magistrate need to look, and gave to transgressors a goodly word of exhortation, and dwelt with copious and convincing eloquence on the wickedness of violating our most excellent laws.
Everybody in that neighbourhood remembers the impressive admonition which he gave to an old man who was convicted at the quarter sessions of having a bit of string in his pocket, and therefore strongly suspected of a design of a malicious nature against the game.
“John Carter,” said the worthy baronet, “let me address to you a few words on the sin of poaching. Poaching, John Carter—is—is a sin of which too many are guilty, owing to the lenity of our most excellent laws. I think that if everybody thought, as I think, of the moral heinousness of this offence, nobody would be guilty of it. Poaching is not yet made felony; but there is no saying how soon it may be made so, if the crime be persisted in. It is a moral offence of the greatest enormity, and is one of those crying, national sins, which may one day or other bring down the vengeance of heaven on our guilty country. Now, John Carter, if you go to gaol for six months, I hope the tread-milland the chaplain will work a thorough reformation in your morals.”
Much more to the same purpose did the worthy magistrate say to John Carter; but it did, we fear, very little good, for John Carter and the baronet’s last pheasant were missing on one and the same morning:
This digression we have made for the purpose of shewing how truly eloquent and morally impressive the baronet could be when the enormity of the offence demanded an adequate severity of reprehension. His worship would have thought the epithet “wild young dog” a designation by far too lenient for a poacher. But the crime of seduction, especially in an hereditary legislator, looked in the sight of the unpaid one as comparatively a slight offence, scarcely an offence at all.
More than suspecting, from Colonel Crop’s look and manner, that a pursuit of this nature had brought the heir of Smatterton down to thevenerable seat of his ancestors, the worthy baronet proceeded to enquire of the young lord’s convenient friend more particularly concerning the person whose charms had fascinated the young lord. Now the gallant colonel was not quite certain that it would be proper and becoming for him to communicate to the worthy magistrate the whole truth, at least what he thought to be the truth; he therefore hesitated and looked knowing: but he had no great tact or dexterity in keeping secrets; so, after a few ineffectual attempts to hold his peace and keep his counsel, he gave the worthy baronet to understand that the lady with whom he had the pleasure of dining at Neverden Hall, was the person on whom the hereditary legislator had cast the eyes of affection.
“What!” exclaimed the astonished baronet, “Do I hear aright? Do you mean to tell me that Lord Spoonbill has employed you to make dishonorable proposals to a lady under my roof, a relation too of my own?”
Colonel Crop was thunderstruck at the mode in which the magistrate received the information; and was still more astonished to hear that the lady was related to the baronet. And the colonel himself was almost angry with Lord Spoonbill, for thinking of proposing such an arrangement with a lady so respectably connected. But when the colonel proceeded to state that his commission was to obtain the lady on any terms, and when the baronet understood that his lordship was so enamoured as to meditate matrimony, that mightily altered the case.
Then the magistrate gave full and free permission to the colonel to have access to the lady, and state with as much eloquence as he pleased, the proposals which he might have to make. It is indeed true, that Sir George could not help thinking, that if Lord Spoonbill had been disposed to make an offer of his hand to Miss Glossop, it would have been rather more respectful to “apply personally, or by letter post paid,” than to use the intervention of agentleman whose services had been employed in negociations of no very reputable nature. The baronet however conceded, that there might be on the part of Lord Spoonbill a more than usual degree of want of ceremony allowed, in consequence of the difference of rank between the parties.
The very possibility of making a relation of his a countess, reconciled the unpaid one to the negociation of the half-paid one. The end sanctified the means.
Now occurred again to the baronet’s recollection the visit which Miss Glossop had paid to Smatterton castle, and he concluded of course that it was at this visit that the charms of Arabella’s voice and person had taken captive the heart of Lord Spoonbill. At the contemplation of the possibility that his high-spirited relative should make a match with so great a man as the eldest son of an earl, the worthy magistrate felt mightily gratified.
It is somewhat admirable that Sir GeorgeAimwell should regard with any great satisfaction a probable marriage commenced by negociations of so equivocal a nature. But there is something in dignity and in high rank so fascinating and overwhelming, that what would be insolence in others is condescension in men of title and rank. And it is also a truth that Sir George, though himself a baronet or lordling, and bearing the same relation to nobility as velveteen bears to velvet, yet looked upon nobility with greater reverence and admiration than persons more remote from that high rank regard the possessors of titles.
When Colonel Crop had thus commenced his great negociation, by informing the magistrate of the business for which Lord Spoonbill had employed him, the gallant officer betook himself to the quiet seclusion of the great house, and amused himself with looking at fine pictures, reading the backs of books, lugging up his shirt collar, combing out his whiskers, listening to the creaking of his boots, picking his teeth, rattlinghis watch-chain, looking at himself in the glass, wondering what was going on in London, together with a multitude of other pretty little amusements of the same description.
The half-paid hero was not sorry that his negociation received such a direction as it did, from the discovery that the young lady in question was related to Sir George Aimwell; and it occurred to the negociator, that he might very soon write to his honorable employer and inform him of the progress which had been made in this important and momentous business. And with the exercise of a little ingenuity, which nobody knew so well how to use as the gallant colonel, the occupation of writing a letter might employ a whole morning. But as the colonel’s present employment is merely meditation seasoned and garnished with sundries of these little amusements which we have recorded above, we need not detain our readers for the present at Smatterton castle, but we will introduce them to another mansion at Smatterton, where theywill meet with the personages mentioned in this narrative, engaged in the highly honorable and delightful occupation of paying a tea visit to Honoria Letitia Spoonbill.
Miss Spoonbill kept very little company; she had but one party in the year, and that was a tea-party, which assembled precisely at six and departed as precisely at ten; and, we may add, sat still and stared at each other as precisely for the whole period of their visit.
In this visit to the spinster of noble family most of the distinguished persons of Smatterton were engaged. And there was something peculiarly interesting in this visit, seeing that Mr Primrose was at the party for the first time, and Mr Zephaniah Pringle was paying his last visit in Smatterton. The lady of the house was particularly active to render herself agreeable to her party; and, in order to produce as much as possible of that kind of stuff which the people who write newspapers call “the feast of reason and the flow of soul,” Miss Spoonbill directed verymuch of her conversation to Mr Primrose, that from him she might gather something concerning the manners, customs, religion, literature, cookery, and politics of the Hindoos; and to Mr Zephaniah Pringle the lady was also interrogatively attentive, that from his exhaustless store of reading and reflection something might be brought out for the edification and instruction of her guests. So that poor Mr Kipperson had not any opportunity of putting forth his agricultural erudition, and was also compelled to be painfully mute on the subject of science. But he had the happiness of meditation and thought, and not all the Spoonbills in the universe could deprive him of that. And he could not help pitying from the bottom of his heart the darkness, stupidity, grossness, and delusion of all those persons who had no ambition after pantology. But he consoled himself with the thought, that truth is great and must prevail; and he knew that pantology was true, and he was sure it would prevail, and all the worldwould be enlightened ultimately, and every man would be his own Encyclopedia, and instead of seeing here and there inscribed on the monumental marble of an individual or two, a record of “Here lies the celebrated and learned,” we should soon have the happiness of seeing in every church-yard in the kingdom one general inscription of “Here lie ten thousand pantologists.”
We thought it our duty to mention all this, because, wherever Mr Kipperson gave the honor of his presence, he always looked important and felt himself to be so, even if circumstances sentenced him to silence.
Miss Primrose was also of the party, and happy was it for her that she was innocent of all suspicion of those idle tales which the people of Smatterton had amused themselves with concerning herself. Miss Spoonbill indeed had slightly heard mention of the rumour, but could not believe it; for she was sure that she must have heard it from better authority, if it hadbeen true; supposing no doubt that her right honorable relative Lord Spoonbill would not have kept her in ignorance on such a matter as this.
As Mr Primrose by his lucid, ready, and intelligent answers to Miss Spoonbill’s multitudinous questions concerning Oriental affairs gave great satisfaction to the lady, she felt grateful to the new inhabitant of Smatterton for the information which had been given; and, in order to shew her gratitude, was pleased to administer to Mr Primrose a large quantity of gratuitous advice, touching the destiny and disposal of his only child.
It was distinctly and strongly in Miss Spoonbill’s recollection that there had been a time, and that not far back, when it was thought desirable by the friends of Miss Primrose to seek out for her some occupation or employment. Now Miss Spoonbill had no knowledge whatever of the circumstances under which Mr Primrose had returned to England, nor had she any thought whatever on the subject, but shetook it for granted that the father could not be less anxious to dispose of the young lady in some situation than the uncle and aunt had been, therefore with most considerate condescension did Miss Spoonbill discourse to Mr Primrose on the importance of giving the young lady an occupation. But this conversation was not audible to the whole party, and unfortunately the part which Mr Primrose took in it was not audible even to Miss Spoonbill herself; for the lady’s hearing was not very good, and Mr Primrose had such an awkward and confused manner of whispering that he was hardly intelligible. And such was the fertility of Miss Spoonbill’s imagination, that it supplied all the deficiencies hearing or apprehension.
“And so, Mr Primrose,” gently and lowly said Miss Spoonbill, “you have not found a situation for your daughter yet?”
“I thank you, madam,” replied Mr Primrose, “but there is no occasion for it.”
“Oh yes, certainly,” said Miss Spoonbill,“I think you were perfectly right. I by no means approve of the profession of a public singer. But I am sure my cousin Lord Smatterton, or his amiable Countess, might find some more suitable employment. I will write to them myself. They are very benevolent people, but they need to be reminded now and then.”
“I beg, madam,” returned Mr Primrose, “that you will not by any means think of giving yourself that trouble; I have it in my power to provide for my daughter.”
“Say nothing about the trouble, Mr Primrose,” continued Miss Spoonbill; “I insist upon writing myself, and I think I have some influence with the Earl and Countess. I assure you, Mr Primrose, I entertain a very great regard for your daughter.”
Mr Primrose took all the pains he could to make the lady understand him, but it was not pleasant for him to speak out loud in the audience of all the party, and therefore he let the subject drop as quietly as he could, resolvingto take the first opportunity of explaining himself more distinctly and audibly than he could when within hearing of his daughter and many others.