_ CHAPTER IX
"Led by Simplicity divine,
She pleased, and never tried to shine;
She gave to chance each unschool'd feature,
And left her cause to sense and nature."--MORE.
Arrived at Walsingham Park, they met Miss Walsingham walking at some distance from the house.
"Is Captain Walsingham come?" was the first question asked. "No, but expected every hour."
That he had not actually arrived was a comfortable reprieve to Mrs. Beaumont. Breathing more freely, and in refreshed spirits, she prepared to alight from her carriage, to walk to the house with Miss Walsingham, as Mr. Palmer proposed. Miss Hunter, who was dressed with uncommon elegance, remonstrated in favour of her delicate slippers: not that she named the real object of her solicitude--no; she had not spent so much time with Mrs. Beaumont, that great mistress of the art of apologizing, without learning at least the inferior practices of the trade. Of course she had all the little common arts of excuse ever ready: and instead of saying that she did not like to walk because she was afraid to spoil her shoes, she protested she was afraid of the heat, and could not walk so far. But Mr. Beaumont had jumped out of the carriage, and Mrs. Beaumont did not wish that he should walk home
tete-a-tete with Miss Walsingham; therefore Miss Hunter's remonstrances were of no avail.
"My love, you, will not be heated, for our walk is through this charming shady grove; and if you are tired, here's my son will give you his arm."
Satisfied with this arrangement, the young lady, thus supported, found it possible to walk. Mr. Palmer walked his own pace, looking round at the beauties of the place, and desiring that nobody might mind him. This was his way, and Mrs. Beaumont never teased him with talking to him, when he did not seem to be in the humour for it. She, who made something of every thing, began to manage the conversation with her other companions during the walk, so as to favour her views upon the several parties. Pursuing her principle, that love is in men's minds generally independent of esteem, and believing that her son might be rendered afraid of the superiority of Miss Walsingham's understanding, Mrs. Beaumont took treacherous pains to
draw her out. Starting from chance seemingly, as she well knew how, a subject of debate, she went from talking of the late marriage of some neighbouring couple, to discuss a question on which she believed that Miss Walsingham's opinion would differ from that of her son. The point was, whether a wife should or should not have pin-money. Miss Walsingham thought that a wife's accepting it would tend to establish a separate interest between married people. Mr. Beaumont, on the contrary, was of opinion, that a wife's having a separate allowance would prevent disputes. So Miss Hunter thought, of course, for she had been prepared to be precisely of Mr. Beaumont's opinion; but reasons she had none in its support. Indeed, she said with a pretty simper, she thought that women had nothing to do with reason or reasoning; that she thought a woman who really loved
any body was always of that person's opinion; and especially in a wife she did not see of what use reasoning and
all that could be, except to make a woman contradict, and be odd, and fond of ruling: that for her part she had no pretensions to any understanding, and if she had ever so much, she should be glad, she declared upon her honour, to get rid of it if she could; for what use could it possibly be of to her, when it must be the husband's understanding that must always judge and rule, and a wife ought only to obey, and be always of the opinion of the man of her choice?--Having thus made her profession of folly in broken sentences, with pretty confusion and all-becoming graces, she leaned upon Mr. Beaumont's arm with a bewitching air of languid delicacy, that solicited support. Mrs. Beaumont, suppressing a sigh, which, however, she took care that her son should hear, turned to Miss Walsingham, and, in a whisper, owned that she could not help loving abilities, and spirit too, even in her own sex. Then she observed aloud, that much might be urged on her side of the question with regard to pin-money; for not only, as Miss Walsingham justly said, it might tend to make a separate interest between husband and wife, but the wife would probably be kept in total ignorance of her husband's affairs; and
that in some cases might be very disadvantageous, as some women are more capable, from their superior understanding, of managing every thing than most men, indeed, than any man she could name.
Even under favour of this pretty compliment, which was plainly directed by a glance of Mrs. Beaumont's eye, Miss Walsingham would not accept of this painful pre-eminence. She explained and made it clear, that she had not any ambition to rule or manage.
"That I can readily believe," said Mr. Beaumont; "for I have observed, that it is not always the women who are the most able to decide who are the most ambitious to govern."
This observation either was not heard or was not understood by Miss Hunter, whose whole soul was occupied in settling some fold of her drapery: but Mr. Beaumont's speech had its full effect on Mrs. Beaumont, who bit her lip, and looked reproachfully at her son, as if she thought this an infringement of his promised truce. A moment afterwards she felt the imprudence of her own reproachful look, and was sensible that she would have done better not to have fixed the opinion or feeling in her son's mind by noticing it thus with displeasure. Recovering, herself, for she never was disconcerted for more than half a minute, she passed on with easy grace to discuss the merits of the heroine of some new novel--an historic novel, which gave her opportunity of appealing to Miss Walsingham on some disputed points of history. She dexterously attempted to draw her
well-informed young friend into a display of literature which might alarm Mr. Beaumont. His education had in some respects been shamefully neglected; for his mother had calculated that ignorance would ensure dependence. He had endeavoured to supply, at a late period of his education, the defects of its commencement; but he was sensible that he had not supplied all his deficiencies, and he was apt to feel, with painful impatient sensibility, his inferiority, whenever literary subjects were introduced. Miss Walsingham, however, was so perfectly free from all the affectation and vanity of a bel-esprit, that she did not alarm even those who were inferior to her in knowledge; their self-complacency, instead of being depressed by the comparison of their attainments with hers, was insensibly raised, by the perception that notwithstanding these, she could take pleasure in their conversation, could appreciate their good sense or originality of thought, without recurring to the authority of books, or of great names. In fact, her mind had never been overwhelmed by a wasteful torrent of learning. That the stream of literature had passed over, it was apparent only from its fertility. Mrs. Beaumont repented of having drawn her into conversation. Indeed, our heroine had trusted too much to some expressions, which had at times dropped from her son, about
learned ladies, and certain
conversaziones. She had concluded that he would never endure literature in a wife; but she now perceived her mistake. She discerned it too late; and at this moment she was doubly vexed, for she saw Miss Hunter
produce herself in most disadvantageous contrast to her rival. In conformity to instructions, which Mrs. Beaumont had secretly given her, not to show too much sense or learning, because gentlemen in general, and in particular Mr. Beaumont, disliked it; this young lady now professed absolute ignorance and incapacity upon all subjects; and meaning to have an air of pretty childish innocence or timidity, really made herself appear quite like a simpleton. At the same time a tinge of ineffectual malice and envy appeared through her ill-feigned humility. She could give no opinion of any book--oh, she would not give any judgment for the whole world! She did not think herself qualified to speak, even if she had read the book, which indeed she had not, for, really, she never read--she was not a
reading lady.
As Miss Hunter had no portion of Mrs. Beaumont's quick penetration, she did not see the unfavourable impression these words made: certain that she was following exactly her secret instructions, she was confident of being in the right line; so on she went, whilst Mrs. Beaumont sighed in vain; and Miss Walsingham, who now saw and understood her whole play, almost smiled at the comic of the scene.
"O dear, Mrs. Beaumont," continued Miss Hunter, "how can you ever appeal to me about books and those sorts of things, when you know I know nothing about the matter? For mercy's sake, never do so any more, for you know I've no taste for those sorts of things. And besides, I own, even if I could, I should so hate to be thought a blue-stocking--I would not have the least bit of blue in my stockings for the whole world--I'd rather have any other colour, black, white, red, green, yellow, any other colour. So I own I'm not sorry I'm not what they call a genius; for though genius to be sure's a very fascinating sort of thing in gentlemen, yet in women it is not so becoming, I think, especially in ladies: it does very well on the stage, and for artists, and so on; but really now, in company, I think it's an awkward thing, and would make one look so odd! Now, Mr. Beaumont, I must tell you an anecdote--"
"Stop, my dear Miss Hunter, your ear-ring is coming out. Stay! let me clasp it, love!" exclaimed Mrs. Beaumont, determined to stop her in the career of nonsense, by giving her sensations, since she could not give her ideas, a new turn.
"Oh, ma'am! ma'am! Oh! my ear! you are killing me, dearest Mrs. Beaumont! pinching me to death, ma'am!"
"Did I pinch, my dear? It was the hinge of the ear-ring, I suppose."
"I don't know what it was; but here's blood, I declare!"
"My love, I beg you a thousand pardons. How could I be so awkward! But why could not you for one moment hold your little head still?"
Miss Walsingham applied a patch to the wound.
"Such a pretty ear as it is," continued Mrs. Beaumont; "I am sure it was a pity to hurt it."
"You really did hurt it," said Mr. Beaumont, in a tone of compassion.
"Oh, horridly!" cried Miss Hunter--"and I, that always faint at the sight of blood!"
Afraid that the young lady would again spoil her part in the acting, and lose all the advantages which might result from the combined effect of the pretty ear and of compassion, Mrs. Beaumont endeavoured to take off her attention from the wound, by attacking her ear-rings.
"My love," said she, "don't wear these ear-rings any more, for I assure you there is no possibility of shutting or opening them, without hurting you."
This expedient, however, nearly proved fatal in its consequences. Miss Hunter entered most warmly into the defence of her ear-rings; and appealed to Mr. Beaumont to confirm her decision, that they were the prettiest and best ear-rings in the world. Unluckily, they did not particularly suit his fancy, and the young lady, who had, but half an hour before, professed that she could never be of a different opinion in any thing from that of the man she loved, now pettishly declared that she could not and would not give up her taste. Incensed still more by a bow of submission, but not of conviction, from Mr. Beaumont, she went on regardless of her dearest Mrs. Beaumont's frowns, and vehemently maintained her judgment, quoting, with triumphant volubility, innumerable precedents of ladies, "who had just bought
the very same ear-rings, and whose taste she believed nobody would dispute."
Mr. Beaumont had seen enough, now and upon many other occasions, to be convinced that it is not on matters of consequence that ladies are apt to grow most angry; and he stood confirmed in his belief that those who in theory professed to have such a humble opinion of their own abilities that they cannot do or understand any thing useful, are often, in practice, the most prone to insist upon the infallibility of their taste and judgment. Mrs. Beaumont, who saw with one glance of her quick eye what passed at this moment in her son's mind, sighed, and said to herself--"How impossible to manage a fool, who ravels, as fast as one weaves, the web of her fortune!"
Yet though Mrs. Beaumont perceived and acknowledged the impracticability of managing a fool for a single hour, it was one of the favourite objects of her manoeuvres to obtain this very fool for a daughter-in-law, with the hope of governing her for life. So inconsistent are cunning people, even of the best abilities; so ill do they calculate the value of their ultimate objects, however ingeniously they devise their means, or adapt them to their ends.
During this walk Mr. Palmer had taken no part in the conversation; he had seemed engrossed with his own thoughts, or occupied with observing the beauties of the place. Tired with her walk--for Mrs. Beaumont always complained of being fatigued when she was vexed, thus at once concealing her vexation, and throwing the faults of her mind upon her body--she stretched herself upon a sofa as soon as she reached the house, nor did she recover from her exhausted state till she cast her eyes upon a tamborine, which she knew would afford means of showing Miss Hunter's figure and graces to advantage. Slight as this resource may seem, Mrs. Beaumont well knew that slighter still have often produced great effects. Soon afterward she observed her son smile repeatedly as he read a passage in some book that lay upon the table, and she had the curiosity to take up the book when he turned away. She found that it was Cumberland's Memoirs, and saw the following little poem marked with reiterated lines of approbation:
"Why, Affectation, why this mock grimace?
Go, silly thing, and hide that simp'ring face.
Thy lisping prattle, and thy mincing gait,
All thy false mimic fooleries I hate;
For thou art Folly's counterfeit, and she
Who is right foolish hath the better plea;
Nature's true idiot I prefer to thee.
Why that soft languish? Why that drawling tone?
Art sick, art sleepy? Get thee hence: begone.
I laugh at all thy pretty baby tears,
Those flutt'rings, faintings, and unreal fears.
Can they deceive us? Can such mumm'ries move,
Touch us with pity, or inspire with love?
No, Affectation, vain is all thy art!
Those eyes may wander over ev'ry part;
They'll never find their passage to the heart."
Mrs. Beaumont, the moment she had read these lines, perceived why her son had smiled. The portrait seemed really to have been drawn from Miss Hunter, and the lines were so
a propos to the scene which had just passed during the walk, that it was impossible to avoid the application. Mrs. Beaumont shut the book hastily as her dear Albina approached, for she was afraid that the young lady would have known her own picture. So few people, however, even of those much wiser than Miss Hunter, know themselves, that she need not have been alarmed. But she had no longer leisure to devote her thoughts to this subject, for Mr. Walsingham, who had been out riding, had by this time returned; and the moment he entered the room, Mrs. Beaumont's attention was directed to him and to Mr. Palmer. She introduced them to each other, with many expressions of regret that they should not sooner have met.
Characters that are free from artifice immediately coalesce, as metals that are perfectly pure can be readily cemented together. Mr. Palmer and Mr. Walsingham were intimate in half an hour. There was an air of openness and sincerity about Mr. Walsingham; a freedom and directness in his conversation, which delighted Mr. Palmer.
"I am heartily glad we have met at last, my good cousin Walsingham," said he: "very sorry should I have been to have left the country without becoming acquainted with you: and now I wish your gallant captain was arrived. I am to set off the day after to-morrow, and I am sadly afraid I shall miss seeing him."
Mr. Walsingham said, that as they expected him every hour, he hoped Mr. Palmer would persuade Mrs. Beaumont to spend the day at Walsingham House.
Mrs. Beaumont dared not object. On the contrary, it was now her policy to pretend the fondest friendship for all the Walsingham family: yet, all the time, pursuing her plan of preventing Mr. Palmer from discerning their real characters and superior merit, she managed with great dexterity to keep the conversation as much as possible upon general topics, and tried to prevent Mr. Palmer from being much alone with Mr. Walsingham, for she dreaded their growing intimacy. After dinner, however, when the ladies retired, the gentlemen drew their chairs close together, and had a great deal of conversation on interesting subjects. The most interesting was Captain Walsingham: Mr. Palmer earnestly desired to hear the particulars of his history.
"And from whom," said young Beaumont, turning to Mr. Walsingham, "can he hear them better than from Captain Walsingham's guardian and friend?" _