"'Twas pretty though a plagueTo see him ev'ry hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curlsIn our heart's table, heart too capableOf every line and trick in his sweet favor."Shakspeare.
"'Twas pretty though a plagueTo see him ev'ry hour; to sit and drawHis arched brows, his hawking eye, his curlsIn our heart's table, heart too capableOf every line and trick in his sweet favor."Shakspeare.
Seeing that the Hon. Philip Martindale is married to an heiress, and has become Earl of Trimmerstone, our readers of course ought not to care any more about him, but to leave him to the enjoyment of his honors. At all events, we will dismiss him at present; and by goingback a little way, bring to notice again the grand-daughter of old John Martindale. We have stated that when Horatio Markham left England to take possession of the office to which he had been appointed, he was in low spirits at leaving his native land, and that he more especially regretted the necessity under which he was placed of leaving Clara Rivolta; and more particularly so, as he had not ascertained the state of her feelings towards him, and was, till the very hour of departure, scarcely aware of the state of his own heart. It is not to be supposed that under these circumstances Clara should be totally indifferent; nor indeed was she. It was not for her to be what is called in love, but she had very much enjoyed Markham's company, and she thought him a well-informed and agreeable man. And when he was gone away she thought so much more, and she regretted his absence very much, and was very well pleased at reading again those passages which he had read to her in their favourite books. Signora Rivolta observed this attachment,and as circumstances then were, rather rejoiced at it, because she considered that it would be the means of preventing the formation of a hasty attachment among the numerous new acquaintances to which they were by their altered condition thus introduced. That Clara should be without lovers, was not a supposable case. Her person and manners were highly attractive and engaging; and when to these were added large expectations, it is not to be wondered at that many should pay her the homage of attention. Against these she was guarded, as Signora Rivolta apprehended she would be, by means of the undefined and unrecognised attachment to Markham. But there was a danger against which neither Signora Rivolta nor her daughter were at all guarded, and of which neither of them was suspicious. That danger was a female friend. There was not indeed in that case the immutability of the marriage-bond, but there was while it should last a very powerful impression.
Clara was young, susceptible, romantic, well informed by means of books, was possessed of good judgment and discernment; she was more familiar with standard writers than most young women, and was not aware that there was any pedantry in talking about them; she had also a taste for science; she had seen and observed but little of the world of humanity, but she had observed more of the world of nature; botany had been one of her studies, so had astronomy, and even geology; she had also a knowledge of the Latin tongue. To say the least of it, she was pleased with her knowledge. Whatever she had acquired had been by means of books, and those books were not numerous; and whatever came to her knowledge through that medium, came with all the authority of an oracle, so that any one who contradicted what her elementary instructions had taught her, or started any different theory from that in which she had nursed her own mind, appeared ignorant of the matter altogether. Coming forth into the world, she was surprised to find that her knowledge was beyond that of many with whom she conversed, and then she placed too high a value on that knowledge. A mind constituted and situated as that of Clara Rivolta, was in great danger of receivingfrom the vanity and conceit with which would-be knowing ones are gifted, an impulse not favorable to its graceful and proper development.
Lady Woodstock and her daughters had been introduced to the female part of his family by Mr. John Martindale, with the view of supplying them with certain intimates, to prevent accidental or disagreeable acquaintance. But it is not easy to manage such matters precisely according to preconcerted theory and design, for these very young ladies were the means of introducing Clara to a young lady who tried very hard to make her as great a simpleton as herself. The young lady to whom we refer was Miss Henderson, eldest daughter of Mr. Henderson, the popular preacher above-named.
Mr. Henderson not knowing what means he might have to provide for his family, very wisely gave them as good an education as was in his power; and at the same time, in order to have that education for them all as cheap as possible, it was his plan that the elder should teach the younger, that she might be thus partly prepared, should need be, to undertake with a greater stock of experience the task of instructing others. The young lady took instruction kindly and well. Her progress in every thing was really astonishing. Her music-master, her drawing-master, her French-master, never had such a pupil in the whole course of their experience. Masters say the same of all their pupils who are not paragons of stupidity. But in this instance there really was somewhat more truth in the commendations than is usually the case. Mr. Henderson was of course highly delighted with his daughter's talents. Mrs. Henderson was lavish in her praise of them, and profuse in her exhibition of them. The young lady was puffed into a mighty conceit of herself, and she very kindly pitied the ignorance and incapacity of the great mass of mankind. The young lady and her father and mother were not aware, that it was to a constitution of mind by no means enviable or desirable, that Miss Henderson was indebted for the great rapidity of her progress and the multitude of her acquirements.There were two causes of that progress; one was a prodigious share of vanity which would undergo any exertion or painful application in order to gratify itself; and the other was a total want of all power of imagination or principle of original and investigating thought, so that there was nothing to interfere with an undivided and close attention to any object of pursuit. The natural result of acquiring knowledge on these principles and from these causes was, that the knowledge was at last and best the mere lumber of memory, and the theme of vain prate and idle boasting, it was not food for the mind, it was not digested. There was scarcely a piece of music which Miss Henderson could not play at sight; but her style of playing was such as to weary rather than to fascinate; and to listen to the young lady's mechanical dexterity on the piano-forte, was called undergoing one of Miss Henderson's sonatas. There was the same hardness and absence of poetry also in her paintings. The outline was very correct, the colouring was accurate, the transcript complete, but there was no life in the living,no animation in the scenery. There was a provoking likeness in the portraits which she sometimes drew of her friends; and so proud was she of her skill in portrait-painting, that few of her acquaintance could keep their countenances safe from the harsh and wooden mockery of her pencil. Deriving a rich gratification to her vanity from her various accomplishments and miscellaneous acquirements, she fancied that her greatest happiness was in the pursuit of knowledge and the pleasures of science. Much did she despise the follies of the fashionable world, and very contemptuously did she regard the ignorant and half-educated part of the community, and that part in her judgment consisted of nearly all the world, her own self and one or two particular friends excepted. Into this select number Clara Rivolta was most graciously admitted.
Miss Henderson, though gifted with a most ample and comfortable conceit of her own superior powers and acquirements, was still not backward, but rather liberal and dexterous in administering the delicious dose of flattery to those whom she honored with her notice and approbation, as being superior to the ordinary mass of mortals. Clara Rivolta received the homage paid to her mind and acquirements as the effusions of a warm heart and generous spirit. It is possible, however, to mistake heat of head for warmth of heart. This was a mistake into which Miss Henderson was perpetually falling, both as it related to herself and to others. Not only was the young lady liberal in her praises of those whom she would condescend to flatter with the honor of her approbation, but she absolutely praised them at her own expense, expressing her high sense of their superiority to herself. But it should be added, that this kind of homage always expected a return with interest, and the language in which she praised her friends was only put forth as a model and specimen of that kind of homage which she should be best pleased to receive from her dear dear friends.
To the vanity of intellect Miss Henderson added the vanity of sentiment. She had read something in books about the heart, and about sentiment and feeling, and so on; and she thought that there must be something fine in that concerning which so many fine words had been used. Thereupon, with that conceit she added sentimentality to the rest of her acquirements; and an acquirement in good truth it really was, seeing that it was by no means natural. Not the less fluently could the young lady discourse on that subject, because she knew nothing about it; but, on the other hand, she set herself up as a judge and censor-general on all her acquaintances and the world beside on the subject of sensibility of heart. She had enjoyed many opportunities of falling in love, and those which she had enjoyed she had not overlooked. Many and many a time was her heart lost, but never irrecoverably. Few were the gentlemen who thought it very prudent to venture to pay serious court to a young lady of lofty thoughts and lowly means. A very slight degree of notice was sufficient however to set if not her heart in flames, at least her tongue in motion to her confidential friends concerning sentiment and sensibility, and all that sort of thing.
Such a companion as this was by no means fit for Clara Rivolta. But Mr. Martindale saw not the real character of the young lady, and Miss Henderson was wise enough to flatter the old gentleman into a conceit that she considered him as one of the few enlightened men of the age; and as Mr. Martindale himself was one of those oddities who think all the world blockheads but themselves, he was not displeased with that kind of homage which Miss Henderson paid him: and as Mr. Martindale was one of the very few single gentlemen whom Miss Henderson had seen and had not fallen in love with, she was not quite so disagreeable to him as she was to many others. Mr. Martindale, therefore, tolerated the acquaintance with Clara; and as for Signora Rivolta, it appeared that Miss Henderson had sagacity enough to see that she was not to be imposed on or deceived by foolish talk, and therefore she avoided exposing herself to her.
In person Miss Henderson was by no means disagreeable, she was rather pretty. There was it is true a little deficiency in height and a little redundancy in breadth; but still there was nothing remarkable one way or the other. She dressed in very good taste, and her ordinary manner was good. It is wicked, or at least very thoughtless, in young men to pay unmeaning attentions to any young lady, but especially to such very sentimental ones as Miss Henderson: frequently had she been rendered unhappy by this thoughtlessness. Now it is very silly for young men to boast of the hearts they win; and in winning such a heart as we are now speaking of there is certainly nothing to boast of, for any one was sure to succeed provided there was a vacancy. At the time of which we are writing, the fragrant Henry Augustus Tippetson was the favored and honored companion of Miss Henderson's walks; and it is difficult to say which was the prettiest animal of the two, Mr. Tippetson or his little white French dog. They were at one time always to be seen together at a certain hour of the day in the Green Park. They seemed to have a great fellow feeling, and both looked as spruce and neat as if they had both been dressed by the same valet. Mr. Tippetson, though something of acoxcomb, and considered to be vain of his person, still was so far diffident of himself as to use the assistance of his little quadruped companion to attract attention to himself. Often has he acknowledged, or rather boasted, that his little dog has been the means of bringing him into conversation with those whom otherwise he should not have had an opportunity of addressing; and oftentimes it has been supposed that it was Henry Augustus Tippetson's private opinion, that his little French dog was considered by the ladies as a very pretty excuse for taking notice of the pretty owner of the same.
Now it was the natural unsophisticated opinion of Clara Rivolta that Mr. Tippetson was an empty-headed, effeminate coxcomb, not worth notice, and absolutely incorrigible by any other discipline but that of time. But Miss Henderson had discovered, or fancied she had discovered, that Mr. Tippetson was not so great a coxcomb as he appeared to be. She acknowledged, indeed, that he was very attentive to his dress and his person; and very candidly did she make allowance for a little errorin that respect, as he was but young, and she had heard it said that it is better to be too attentive in youth than too negligent in age in that respect. As for Mr. Tippetson's lisping, she was very sure that was perfectly natural and unavoidable. The use of perfumery was become absolutely necessary from the frequency of crowded apartments. As to the apparent diversity between the studying and the learned Miss Henderson, and the lounging, indolent, unreading habits of Mr. Tippetson, the difference was rather apparent than real, according to the young lady's own account of the matter: for though Mr. Tippetson was not at present much in the habit of reading, he had been formerly, and his mind was by no means unfurnished; he was a man of very great observation, and was constantly making remarks and observations on every thing he saw or heard. So that Miss Henderson was quite sure that when Clara came to be better acquainted with the young gentleman, she must think better of him. Thus it is that foolery is tolerated. Lookat a coxcomb at a little distance, and observe his silly airs. The animal is absolutely nauseous, and his whole manner and style villanous and contemptible. But a more intimate acquaintance makes a discovery of some bearable qualities; and familiarity renders the odious less odious; and then it is thought that there are more qualities existing in him than have been discovered, because more have been discovered than were suspected. So foppery and foolery are tolerated from habit and intimacy.
This process of mind, from contempt to toleration, has been experienced by more disciplined minds than Clara's. No wonder that a young woman so unacquainted with human society should be led to sacrifice her better judgment to the plausibilities of so well-informed a person as Miss Henderson. Clara was far from perfection, though she was a most excellent and amiable creature, and was possessed of a tolerably sound judgment. She was accessible to flattery, and loved praise. It was not in her power or will to discriminate aright on that matter. Signora Rivolta had instructed and educated her daughter verymuch by the impulse of encouragement. That mode had produced many good effects, but it had its evils. Clara had become too susceptible of commendation, and her appetite was too strong to suffer her taste to be delicate. Thus there arose a kind of sentimental friendship between the two young ladies; in which intercourse of sentiment Miss Henderson had the advantage and the greatest power, not from superior strength of mind, or greater accuracy of discrimination, but because it had been her lot to enjoy a larger portion of experience or knowledge of human society.
It might be imagined that a woman of such superior mind as Signora Rivolta, would have given to her only child, whose education she had by herself totally conducted, such information and such views of society and human nature, as to render her so well acquainted with life that she might not be a dupe of its ordinary deceptions. But this is not possible. Solitary education can never fit the mind for society; the social education must commence when the solitary has finished. Youngpeople cannot understand the language of experience. Signora Rivolta might even have described with the utmost truth and philosophic accuracy the character of Miss Henderson, and might have given her child the strictest and most earnest injunctions to guard herself against its fascinations; and Clara might have been most attentive to the instruction, and desirous of obeying it, but when the character presented itself in real life she would not have recognised it.
"Fair, gentle, sweet,Your wit makes wise things foolish."Shakspeare.
The intimacy between Clara Rivolta and Miss Henderson continued for a time uninterrupted. The friends of the former were not aware of the character of Miss Henderson; and had they been, they would not have supposed that Clara so much admired and esteemed her as she reallydid. Old Mr. Martindale had paid very kind and friendly attention to the settlement of the affairs of the late Lord Martindale, and having spent as much time in town as he thought desirable, removed his establishment to the coast, that his family might enjoy the pleasures of a watering-place. So it came to pass that the female friends were parted: but though separated, they were not forgetful of each other. Miss Henderson wrote a most beautiful hand, so small, so clear, with letters so peculiarly well-turned, that whenever she put a letter into the post-office, she thought that the letter-sorter and the postman must pause to admire the beauty of the writing. Not one of her numerous acquaintance could condense so many words into the compass of one common-sized sheet of letter-paper. With such qualifications, no wonder that she seized every opportunity of writing letters. People always do with pleasure that which they think they do well. It would gratify us if we could present the public with a fac-simile of one of Miss Henderson's letters, but our publisher will not allow of it. Ourreaders must therefore be contented with the printed copy of one. It is as follows:
"How feeble, my ever dear Clara, is the power of language to express the emotions of the heart! My heart is the seat of ten thousand times ten thousand agitating and conflicting thoughts, painful recollections, gloomy forebodings, tender regrets, joyous hopes. Oh, what is life without friendship! And how few, alas! who are worthy of the confidence of friendship. When I look upon the multitudes of people that pass and repass every day and every hour—when I see the common-place, every-day people of the world, and observe how careless and how contented they seem in the midst of their gross ignorance and stupidity, I cannot sometimes repress the almost impious wish that I were as stupid as they are. Is it not too true that increase of knowledge is increase of sorrow? The town is now empty, and yet pa's chapel is somehow well attended. Many people come from the city to hear him, and some young lawyers also from the inns of courts. You wouldbe amused to see their vacant looks of admiration, almost amounting to astonishment, when pa gives one of his fine apostrophes, or his well-turned metaphors. Tippetson is still in town. I wonder what he can find to amuse him at this dull time of year. Pa would go to Brighton if he could find any tolerable substitute to fill his place in his absence, but the generality of preachers you know, my dear, are so dull, stupid, and common-place, that it is absolutely impossible for a person of any sense to sit and hear them; I am really astonished that the churches are so full as they are, there is scarcely one clergyman in twenty worth hearing. Tippetson says he is determined never to hear any body but pa. He was at the chapel yesterday, and sat directly opposite to us. I wish, my dear Clara, you could have seen him. He was so attentive, that he looked as if he was desirous of catching every syllable; and when any peculiarly fine and brilliant expression occurred, (you know pa's emphatic manner,) it was quite interesting to see how his countenance was lighted up with admiration. Pa makesit a point to preach quite as well when the fashionable people are out of town as when they are all here. Fashionable people! Ah, Clara, you do not know them so well as I do, and you need not wish to know them; so false, so vain, so hollow, so haughty! Mr. Martindale is the only person I ever saw who seems to understand them aright. What an advantage you have in the society of such an intelligent man! All his thoughts are wisdom, and all his sentences are oracles. Tippetson admires him prodigiously, and says that twenty such men in high life would produce a complete revolution in the fashionable world. I heard Tippetson say, but he did not know that I heard him, that he intended to procure a little velvet paper book, bound in pink satin and with silver clasps, and that he should on one side of the leaves record the wise sayings of Mr. Martindale, and on the other the beautiful similes that occurred in pa's sermons. I am sure, my dear, you will laugh when I tell you what a blunder pa was likely to make last week. He wanted to go out of town for a few weeks, and endeavoured to finda gen gentleman to officiate for him at the chapel, and a friend of ours recommended a person of whom he had some slight knowledge, and pa saw him, and was just on the point of engaging him, when by some odd expression pa found out that he was an evangelical. It would have been the ruin of the chapel if the mistake had not been discovered in time to prevent any engagement. Poor pa made the best excuse he could; and here we all remain for want of a proper substitute to supply the chapel in our absence. When Tippetson heard of the blunder, he laughed outright, and said it was a pity that the gentleman had not been engaged, in order that he might convert some of the good folks at this end of the town. I assure you, my dear, that Tippetson is far from being a dull man; the fact is, he has a considerable degree of wit, but he is not like some people who are always endeavouring to shine in conversation, and to say brilliant things. Now do you know there is nothing so excessively disagreeable to me as a perpetual endeavour to shine in conversation. Tippetson really does say somegood things sometimes; I am told that some of those clever articles in the newspapers which are ascribed to Sir William Curtis, are actually the production of Tippetson. Well, my dear, dear Clara, you see what a rambling style I am writing in; but I don't know how it is, when I have the pen in my hand it seems to communicate the perpetual motion to my fingers. Talking of perpetual motion, what an absurdity it is to think that it can ever be discovered! and yet I have heard people who think themselves very clever at mechanics talk as if it might be discovered; I once heard a very superior man say that the perpetual motion was one of nature's arcana. Oh, how pleasant it is to have a correspondent to whom one can write freely and fully on any subject! How few are there like you, my dear friend, who have any interest in the pursuits of science and the discoveries of philosophy; and of those few who pretend to any relish for such things, there are not many who like you understand the subjects on which they converse: they are mere smatterers. You told me, I remember, that you found less literature andscience in the world than you expected; and let me assure you, that is much rarer than even you imagine. The number of pretenders is very great; but real science is rare. I am afraid I shall tire you, my dear friend, but the truth is, I know not of any one to whom I can address myself so freely as to my dear Clara: but if I have trespassed too much on your valuable time by my poor unworthy scrawl, I can only cast myself on your mercy, or beg that you will punish me by an answer as long as my letter: punish did I say, I retract the unworthy expression, it would be no punishment to receive a copious epistle from a dear, intelligent, superior-minded friend. Your letters, my dear, are all instruction and wisdom. I could learn more from one of your letters than from a volume. I am almost ashamed of what I am going to say, I hesitate whether I shall acknowledge my sin; yet confession is one-half of repentance. I must acknowledge—will you ever forgive me? The fact is, I was so very naughty as to let Tippetson have a sight of your letter; and I am sure you will forgive me, if you can but imagine the admiration and delight with which he read it. I know you have too muchstrength of mind to be accessible to flattery, else I would not mention the affair to you; but the truth is, that he was so charmed with it that he begged me on his knees to let him have a copy of it, of course omitting names, and he was pleased to say that no pen was so worthy of the honor of transcribing it as mine: for the young man is pleased to compliment my hand-writing rather more than it deserves. There, now you are near the end of your labor of reading, and I am near the end of my pleasure in writing: for a pleasure it is to write to such a dear, kind, intelligent soul as my Clara Rivolta. Farewell; let me soon have another invaluable treasure in a letter from your intellectual pen to delight and instruct your faithful and sincere Rebecca Henderson."
This is the shortest we could find of the epistles of Miss Henderson to Clara Rivolta. The young lady to whom that and many more to the same purpose were addressed, thought that there was something extravagant in the style, but took it for granted that such was the style now in fashion, and therefore made allowances; but the worst of the matter was, that in making those allowances, she was led also to imitate the same style rather more than her good sense approved. As we have not so high an opinion of the superior excellence of Clara Rivolta's letters to Miss Henderson as Mr. Tippetson was pleased to express, we shall not favor our readers by sending any of them to the press. It is enough to state that the correspondence continued rather longer than Signora Rivolta would have approved had she been aware of its style and character. Those letters which Miss Henderson wrote to Clara when Mr. Tippetson had left town, and was gone she knew not whither, were of sad and sable aspect. Many and deep were the lamentations that there was nothing in the great metropolis worth living for, and yet there were several young gentlemen then in town whom Miss Henderson had once been dying for.
Though Signora Rivolta did not think it necessary for the sake of her daughter's well-being, and for the purpose of preserving the purity of her mind, to insist upon seeing all letters which she might receive from or write to her female friends, yet the very frequent arrival of letters from Miss Henderson, and the very copious nature of them, judging from the time which Clara took to read them and reply to them, induced her mother to mention the subject, by way of hinting that such a very great intimacy and attachment to so new an acquaintance was hardly consistent with prudence and proper consideration. One day, when a very long communication had been received from the copiously-corresponding Rebecca Henderson, Signora Rivolta took occasion to say to Clara,
"I have no wish, my dear child, to interfere unnecessarily with your correspondence and with your friendships, but it has often struck me that your frequent and long letters to Miss Henderson are hardly proper, considering how short a time you have been acquainted with that lady. I protest to you that I feel curious to know what is the subject of your correspondence. Is it literary, or scientific, or miscellaneous?"
Clara was rather confused, because she was well aware of the rigid and severe judgment of her mother, and she was nearly sure that such a correspondence would not altogether meet her approbation; she replied,
"There are some parts of the letters which treat of literature and science, but they are for the most part miscellaneous: they are a species of written conversation."
"There is very little conversation worth writing," replied her mother, "and of course little worth reading;" but, continued she with a smile, "I must own that I should be gratified, if you would so far indulge my curiosity as to permit me to see one of Miss Henderson's letters, I will not dictate which, one will answer my purpose as well as another. Where the correspondence is so frequent and copious, it must display or form character, and I am interested to know what kind of a correspondent you have."
"I will show you any or all of the letters," replied Clara, who knew her mother's character of mind too well to attempt to elude her penetration; "will you take the trouble to read this, which I have received this morning. Miss Henderson is a very kind friend, and perhaps she is disposed to be rather too flattering; but I can assure you, my dear mother, that, though I am pleased to have her good opinion, I am not rendered vain by her praises. It is her peculiar manner to compliment."
Clara presented the letter, Signora Rivolta read it with great attention and with much seriousness; occasionally indeed she smiled, but that smile was presently checked. Clara watched her mother's countenance with great anxiety, observed its changes with much emotion, and was very much hurt and abashed by the look with which her mother returned her the letter when she had read it through.
"My dear Clara, I must have some conversation with you on the subject of this correspondence. I cannot flatter you quite so adroitly as Miss Henderson does, but I have a much higher opinion of you than she has, for I do assure you that I would never have insulted your understanding so much as to send you such a ridiculous epistle as this. The language of this letter is foolish in the extreme. I hope your conversation was not in this style. You may well say that the letters are miscellaneous. Now my child, as I can only have your welfare in view, will you be kind enough so far to favor me with your confidence as to indulge me with a sight of some more of Miss Henderson's letters. Indeed, I acknowledge to you that I am anxious to see them all: from this specimen I could wish that you had never received any."
Clara had much tenderness of feeling and great respect and reverence for her mother's superior understanding, and she felt very unpleasantly and painfully at the emotion with which her mother addressed her. Her color rose and fell, and the poor girl burst into tears. It was indeed truly mortifying, after having received such flattering homage from Miss Henderson, to be thus suddenly let down in her own judgment, and be thus brought to feel that she was not quite so superior to the rest of the world as she had been led to suppose herself. Signora Rivoltasoothed her and spoke kindly to her. The letters were produced, for they had been carefully laid by as treasures of some value. And let not our readers judge harshly of the inexperienced mind of poor Clara; her very humility made her proud: for not positively thinking very highly of herself, when she found herself flattered and complimented by Miss Henderson, she was unduly exalted and gratified; and she began to fancy that she was indeed something extraordinary, to receive compliments from so accomplished a young lady.
Every one of the letters did Signora Rivolta carefully peruse, having taken them to her own apartment for that purpose: it was a task indeed of some difficulty, and attended with much weariness, but she felt anxious on her daughter's account, and would not relinquish her task till it was completed; and when it was completed, her astonishment was great indeed, that such nonsense could have ever been agreeable to her daughter; but she forgot the love of praise and the insinuations of flattery, how strong their influence is on young and inexperiencedminds. When she had made an end of reading, she called Clara to her again, and after giving her own opinion of the character of Miss Henderson's mind, she said,
"Now, my dear child, I have one more request to make of you concerning these letters; that is, will you give me leave to destroy them? They will never be an honor to you; if you seek for praise, you must endeavour to procure it in a less equivocal shape than this. Here you are told in so many words almost, that your knowledge is most extensive and profound; that your taste is pure and perfect; that your strength of mind is superior to the rest of your sex; in short, that you possess every virtue and every excellence that can be attributed to a human being. Can you believe that Miss Henderson is silly enough to entertain such an opinion of you; and if she be not sincere, what can be her motive, but merely to indulge her own foolish inclination to talk or to write? I dare say that, if the fact could be ascertained, you would find that she has used the same kind of language to many otherswith whom she has corresponded; for her style seems to be that of a practised letter writer, who scribbles for her own gratification."
Clara saw that there was truth and justice in these observations, and though she felt a considerable degree of reluctance, she could not refuse her mother's request; and the letters in all their fulness and interest and with all their fine compliments, were committed to what newspaper editors call the devouring element.
"Full many a ladyI have eyed with best regard."Shakspeare.
The sea-side is an excellent place for those who have nothing to do, and none but those can duly and rightly appreciate its advantages. To saunter about on the beach and listen to the roaring of the waters, and watch the tide rising or falling—to hear the rushing rattling of thepebbles that are rolled on the beach with every successive wave—to see the distant sail, now dark beneath a passing cloud, and then bright again as a leaf of silver from the light of the sun—to watch the sea-birds in their reeling, wheeling, staggering flight—to mark the little dabs of sea-weed in their grotesque variety, and to measure the progress of the tide by their disappearance on encroaching waves, or to measure how much the waters have receded, by observing how this, that, and the other weed are drier and farther from the reach of the wave—to notice the pretty wonder, and see the waving ringlets and fluttering bonnets of the little ones who are brought to breathe health and animation on the coast—to watch the sentimental looks of the solitary wanderer who comes there to breathe poetry—to see the flushed indications of a swelling heart in the looks of those who seem to hear in the sound of the rushing waters a voice from beloved and distant ones; these, and ten thousand other pretty occupations, banish from the mind all feeling of indolence, and make it fancy itself employed. Andsurely it is quite as well employed in seeing and feeling poetry as in reading it. To speak after the figurative and flowery style of Rebecca Henderson's pa, we might say that nature is all poetry, groves are her sonnets, gardens her madrigals, mountains her pindarics, and seas her epics. In walking by the sea-side, there is no thought of loss of time; for the sea being an emblem of eternity, banishes all thought of time from the mind. Thus wandered there, day after day, our young friend, Clara Rivolta.
Not the less interesting to us is this young lady, because in the simplicity and youngness of her experience, she has suffered herself to be carried away by the foolish and vain flatterings of an idle-minded, busy-tongued young woman, on whose mind knowledge has produced only its coarsest and grossest effects. To the sea-side did Clara betake herself the morning after the discovery of her foolish, sentimental correspondence with Miss Henderson. Many and painful were the efforts which she made to endeavour to think more soberly of herself, and to bring her thoughts and feelings to that steadiness and firmness whichshe could not but perceive and respect in her mother. It was not easy, it was not pleasant, to rouse herself from that delicious dream of self-complacency into which she had been lulled. We do not like to wake from a pleasant dream, even though we know it to be but a dream. Clara was also helping to deceive herself. She was indulging herself in the thought that she was far less censorious than she used to be, for she thought more favorably and judged more candidly of Mr. Tippetson than when she first saw him. But she forgot that a little of that candor and a little of that justice might perhaps be owing to the decided and flattering homage which that sweet-scented gentleman had paid her. No one can think very contemptibly of those who dexterously flatter; and there is a species of flattery which is very dexterous, which does not express itself in the bare words of common-place compliment or gross adulation, but which speaks in looks, tones, actions, and attentions. Mr. Tippetson had learned this art in perfection, and no wonder; forhe had studied no other, and had found an interest and a pleasure in this. He had been despised and tolerated by a great number of persons and families. At first sight, all who came near him despised him, but upon better acquaintance they thought better of him; and as he had no feeling but for himself, he could when necessity required make himself very agreeable to most with whom he conversed. His art was to affect an almost exclusive interest for the person whom he addressed or conversed with. By this he had rendered himself so very agreeable to Sir Gilbert Sampson, then to Miss Sampson, now Countess of Trimmerstone, that many observers thought at one time that he would have carried off the heiress; and very likely he would, had it not been for the title which was in the Martindale connexion. Even after the marriage of the young lady above-named, her lord and master was almost jealous of Tippetson, but when he became better acquainted with him he thought better of him. There was this also in the style of the young gentleman, that he neveraffected any superiority, but always spoke, if of himself at all, in terms of great humility and diffidence. It is indeed rather flattering and agreeable to us, when seeing one who at a little distance appears full of himself, very proud and conceited and contemptuous, we find when we come nearer to him, that he thinks very humbly of himself, and that he is towards us all respect, deference, and attention. The homage of those who seem constitutionally constructed to pay homage to every body affects and delights us not, but the homage of those who seem to expect homage is truly delightful. By this kind of art, Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson rendered himself tolerable in spite of his foppery and exquisite affectations.
We have introduced this gentleman again, because he is about to introduce himself; and though we would willingly let our characters speak for themselves, as we have said in the preceding volume, we cannot always trust them, for we know that they are all more or less hypocritical, and would put the best side outwards. Besides, there is wanting in narrative or written dialogue the countenance or expression, which the actor in a drama gives to the character. There may be much individuality in the characters of Shakspeare's dramas, but we question whether there be not somewhat less than most persons imagine. With all the individuality, however, that may be supposed to belong to them, we have very little doubt but that to different minds the names of Hamlet, Macbeth, Shylock, &c. present an almost infinite variety of moral portrait; and there is great truth in the common language and philosophy in the common phraseology, of "Kean's Richard," "Garrick's Richard," "Kemble's Coriolanus." "Kean's Richard" and "Garrick's Richard" were no doubt different persons. Our characters, therefore, cannot speak definitely enough, if they only speak for themselves. But Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson is coming.
As Clara Rivolta was walking alone on the beach the morning after the destruction of Miss Henderson's pretty letters by the ruthless severity of Signora Rivolta, the young lady's mind was full of various and agitating thoughts, and she was meditating on the deceitfulness of the world and all that is therein; and then began she to think of Horatio Markham, whose considerate and kind attentions had greatly impressed her mind with a favorable idea both of herself and of him. She thought within herself, "Is he also insincere, and must I believe nobody who speaks well of me?" It was a pleasant and a soothing sight to have before her eyes the mighty ocean, and to see its rolling billows dashing with infinite monotony on the shore; and it was pleasant to her to let her spirit ride upon these mighty billows onward and onward to distant lands, and to imagine that there lived one in whose life she felt an interest. Whatever Miss Henderson might be, she was sure that Horatio Markham lacked not understanding and good sense; for she had observed that her mother had conversed with him very attentively, and apparently with great pleasure. Being disappointed in her friendship with Miss Henderson, her thoughts very naturally reverted to her incipient friendship with Markham. While engaged in these meditations,she was roused from her reverie by the sound of something plunging into the water, and presently after by the noise of the sharp, shrill yelping of a little dog that came shaking his white wet coat almost on Clara's dress. The master of the animal was at hand ready to apologise for the animal's want of decorum. The apology was accepted; the owner of the dog was Mr. Tippetson, he did not say that he threw the dog into the water on purpose to attract the young lady's attention. As Mr. Tippetson was personally acquainted with Clara, a conversation naturally sprung up on the occasion of this accidental meeting.
Clara hardly knew what to say, or what to avoid saying; for when the letters of Miss Henderson had been perused by Signora Rivolta, the frequent recurrence of the name of Tippetson gave occasion to that lady to make some remarks on the character of that gentleman by no means flattering either to him or to Clara's judgment. It was however impossible to behave rudely to the young gentleman. Some answer necessarily must be returned to his inquiries concerning Mr. Martindale, and the Colonel and Signora Rivolta. And as Mr. Tippetson very unceremoniously joined company with Clara, and pertinaciously walked by her side, and took all possible pains to make himself agreeable, it was impossible to get speedily rid of him. In the course of conversation mention was made of the name of Henderson. Clara bethought herself of the story of Mr. Tippetson supplicating on his knees for a copy of a letter addressed to her friend. Mr. Tippetson spoke of Miss Henderson not quite so flatteringly as Miss Henderson had spoken of him. Clara thought that ungrateful. Mr. Tippetson spoke of Mr. Henderson, but of him not quite in such high terms as the language used in Miss Henderson's letters had led Clara to expect. But there was nothing absolutely censorious in his expressions. Of Mr. Martindale he spoke in language of unmingled commendation, of Colonel Rivolta he spoke very flatteringly, and so also of Signora Rivolta. It was well for Clara that she had been so recently put upon her guard against flattery, or the ingenious homage of Mr. Tippetson might haveintoxicated her. So dexterously did he manage, that, notwithstanding all that Signora Rivolta had said, and notwithstanding what she herself had seen, Clara could not help wishing that her mother had been better acquainted with Mr. Tippetson, as she felt assured that better acquaintance would produce better and more favorable thoughts of him.
While Mr. Tippetson was keeping Clara in conversation almost against her will, there appeared at a distance on the beach old Mr. Martindale and Signora Rivolta. Clara would willingly have extricated herself from her companion, could it have been effected without any obvious and palpable effort. But she saw that it was absolutely impossible; for as soon as the young gentleman saw Mr. Martindale, he expressed great pleasure in the prospect of meeting again so intelligent and respectable an acquaintance. A meeting and introduction were inevitable.
The parties presently joined. On the part of Clara was great confusion. Signora Rivolta looked almost angry. Mr. Martindale addressed the young gentleman with great cordiality. Mr. Tippetson, as if with a judgment superior to that generally and justly ascribed to him, discerning and in a moment interpreting the looks of Signora Rivolta, most ingeniously took upon himself all blame, if blame there might be, of the walking with Clara in such social guise of intimacy. Nature has not given to all animals the power of reasoning; but to the greatest number and greatest variety of animals she has given that instinct which may be called extemporaneous reasoning. Exquisitely and curiously accurate is the sagacity of some animals; but reason often blunders and miscalculates. As then nature has given sagacity or instinct when she hath denied reason, so even in the human species, when she has been somewhat penurious in the bestowment of reason, she hath made amends by the addition of no small portion of a species of animal sagacity and shrewdness. Thus it happens that many stupid, ignorant, unreasoning beings called human, do frequently deport themselves with the greatest and aptest propriety in theminuter matters of ordinary life, while men of more mind or higher reasoning powers, being too proud to apply or exercise their reason on the inferior and every-day concerns of life, and not gifted with the instinct which stupid people enjoy, are subject to frequent blunders, awkwardnesses, and perplexities. If, for instance, Horatio Markham, who was a much superior man to Henry Augustus Tippetson, had been thus met in conversation with Clara, and if he had judged from the countenance and manner of Signora Rivolta that the interview was not agreeable to her, he would have blundered and floundered, and have been confused and confounded, and have brought poor Clara into disgrace for encouraging improperly a degree of familiarity with an almost stranger; but very differently did Mr. Tippetson manage. Seeing also that Signora Rivolta was not a person likely to yield to the influence of common-place compliment, and feeling by the natural instinct which he possessed that her powerful mind and keen discernment had already tolerably well penetrated into his character and analysed his soul, he did not attemptto flatter where he knew he must fail. This is another and remarkable quality belonging to instinct, and an advantage which it enjoys above reason; viz. that it never attempts that which it cannot perform, whereas reason often does. Feeling then that it would be in vain to play off his compliments and pay his homage to Signora Rivolta, he gave his attention chiefly to Mr. Martindale, and relinquished the lady as a person to him indifferent: though at the same time he thought, that fond as he was of amusing his leisure hours, and that was every hour that he was awake, with paying unmeaning attentions to young ladies, he should not be sorry to sacrifice his liberty for the hand and probable fortune of Clara Rivolta. It was indeed a truth, and a sad one it is to tell of any of our species, that while he was flattering Miss Henderson, and paying constant and unremitting attention to her, he was far from any intention of a serious nature, and he absolutely did by her means endeavour to make himself agreeable to Clara. Towards her he was serious, not however from sentiment but from selfishness. He saw,however, that so far as the mother of the young lady was concerned, there was no hopes of success; but he had some hopes from the young lady and from the old gentleman: they were accessible to flattery. To Mr. Martindale, therefore, did the crafty one address himself. He introduced such topics as pleased the old gentleman, because they gave him an opportunity to display his wisdom and indulge his humor. He talked of the follies and frivolities of the fashionable world, and said much concerning the good old times. He expressed his great dislike to late hours and French cookery. In short, he so pleased the old gentleman, that he was urged to dine with their family party.
Now a very good and ample opportunity was offered him for saying and looking all that might be agreeable to Clara and to Mr. Martindale the elder. To the old gentleman a very handsome and well-turned compliment was paid on the title lately conferred on his relative. To Clara little was said directly, but much indirectly. To Colonel Rivolta very little was said, for he was not a talking man. He was very quiet, inoffensive, not very extensively informed, having a profound respect and veneration for the superior wisdom and good sense of his lady. His ordinary occupation was smoking, sometimes he would take snuff. People wondered that so superior a woman as Signora Rivolta should ever have accepted the hand of such a dull common-place man as the Colonel. But what is the use of wondering: there is in fact nothing wonderful in the matter; it is the most ordinary and every-day occurrence. It is as common as day-light to find couples thus unequally yoked. Perhaps the Signora loved rule, and found that the Colonel was very tractable. Perhaps the Signora loved talking, and found the Colonel very silent, but not deaf. Perhaps the Signora loved admiration, and found the Colonel disposed to look with reverence on her superior mental powers. Perhaps the Signora thought that she might not have another offer. Perhaps the Signora thought that a quiet simpleton was better than a prating one. Perhapsthe Signora did not like diversity of opinion, and therefore preferred a husband who had no opinions at all. Perhaps the Signora did not know any better than we do what were the motives which actuated her. But we beg of our readers that they would not trouble themselves to wonder at the matter. Ten thousand are the affairs and events of ordinary occurrence, at which nobody wonders and for which nobody can account. But to return.
We have said what Mr. Tippetson was, but we have not said who he was. This information ought not to be withheld from our readers. It is rather difficult to use few words, and it is not fitting for so insignificant a personage that we should use many. We will endeavour to condense. His father was a country attorney; his grandfather a village apothecary; his uncle was steward to a nobleman of large estate; and he himself, Mr. Tippetson, the Henry Augustus, was destined for the church. For the purpose of preparing the young gentleman, he was sent to Cambridge; but unfortunately he came away from thence without takinga degree. Every body knows what immense labor and incessant toil are required to take the degree of Bachelor of Arts. It has been said by very good judges, that a man of the greatest powers of mind, supposing him previously ignorant of the subjects of examination, would not be able to prepare himself for a bachelor's degree in less than a week, and that ordinary geniuses require a fortnight or three weeks. To study three weeks in three years was too much for Mr. Tippetson's nerves, so he left Cambridge without his degree; and as his uncle died in good circumstances and left Henry Augustus a handsome legacy, and as the young gentleman's father also was deceased having left a good fortune to this his only son, the young gentleman thought that his wisest step would be to become a gentleman at once, and relinquish all idea of professional pursuits. As to taking orders, he could not bear the thoughts of those impertinent questions which examining chaplains propose to candidates for holy orders, and he never would give upfancy waistcoats. Thus situated, the young gentleman lounged about and dawdled away his time with considerable ingenuity.
There are two unfortunate sets of beings among mankind: those who cannot do any thing, and those who cannot do nothing. The former class counted among its numbers Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson. He had not the slightest capacity for application to any object of pursuit; but he was no by means unable to do nothing. There are, as our readers may know, certain persons who have acquired such a habit of constant action and incessant employment that they cannot exist without activity: they cannot be idle. They are absolutely proud of it, and fancy that it redounds much to their honor; but it is in fact a misfortune where the assertion is true, and a villanous affectation where it is false. It requires mind to be able to manage either business or leisure: it is the absence of mind that renders man a slave to habit. We have made this digression when speaking of Mr. Tippetson, lest any of our readers being afflicted with what may be called the vertigo of business andemployment, may take to themselves an undue portion of credit, and be proud of that as a virtue which in fact is only a weakness. The mind which has not power over itself lacks due strength and health.
It may now be easily imagined that a woman like Signora Rivolta could readily enough penetrate the surface of Mr. Tippetson's character and understand its weakness; and lest any of our readers should be perplexed to know why it happened that the Signora should be especially anxious that her daughter should not be married to a man of unfurnished mind, when she herself was so married and did not seem annoyed by it, we will inform them that the Signora thought herself quite able to govern and direct, but that she did not consider Clara to be possessed of a mind so powerful as hers, and that therefore she should have another to direct and rule. If farther it be asked why should a woman of such good sense as Signora Rivolta be so vain as to think highly of herself, we can only reply that it is the commonest thing in the world.