CHAPTER IX.
We have spoken favorably of the Countess. She was for the most part a considerate as well as a benevolent woman: we say for the most part, because we must make some slight exception. And if our readers be angry with us for not indulging them with perfect characters, we can only say we are sorry for it, and will promise that as soon as we meet with a faultless character we will give the history thereof to the world. In the meantime we must take what we find, and make the best of it. The Countess of Smatterton then was, as we have said, possessed of many good qualities, but was not perfect. There was occasionally a want of considerateness in her very benevolence; and most people indeed, who do any good at all to their fellow-creatures, prefer doing it in their own way. There is perhaps some benefit in this; for otherwise the opulent and powerful would be too much importuned, and the number of the dependent be most awfully increased. To proceed then: we have observed that the Countess was not uniformly considerate. She could, and for the most part did, bestow her favors with great grace and urbanity of manner; but occasionally she was rather forgetful of the proprieties; she did not always consider that what might be suitable in one person or station might not be suitable in another. This feeling was manifested in the interview with which her grace was pleased to honor Miss Primrose, soon after the decease of her valuable friend and relative, Dr Greendale.
The Countess very kindly invited the ladies to the castle. Her ladyship received the widow and her niece in her own apartment. No one knew so well as the Countess how to manage the language and address of consolation. Mrs Greendale was charmed with the delicate and feeling manner in which she was received; and her ladyship was happy that any attention of hers could gratify and soothe the afflicted.
With an exquisite dexterity of address the Countess contrived to introduce an allusion to the situation of Penelope Primrose; and as neither the young lady nor her aunt was in full possession of the circumstances in which Mr Primrose was at that time, they both had the impression on their minds that there was no other immediate prospect for his daughter than the exertion of her own talents and acquirements to provide her with the means of support. The worthy rector had not as yet been long enough in the grave to give Penelope an opportunity of feeling the difference of Mrs Greendale’s manner towards her; but she had penetration enough to foresee what must be her situation so long as she remained under the same roof as her aunt. With the utmost readiness did she therefore listen to the Countess, when speaking of the various employments to which a young person situated as she was might turn her attention.
“Lord Smatterton,” said the Countess, “has frequently mentioned the subject to me, and he recommends a situation in a private family. There are certainly some advantages and some disadvantages in such a situation: very much depends upon the temper and disposition of almost every individual in the family. It is possible that you may meet with a family consisting of reasonable beings, but it is more than probable that you may have to encounter arrogance or ignorance; these are not excluded from any rank.”
This language seemed to Penelope as an intimation that a school would be a more desirable sphere in which to make profitable use of her acquisitions. It was not for her to oppose any objections to the implied recommendations of so good and so great a friend as her ladyship; but she felt considerable reluctance to that kind of employment, which she fancied had been suggested. Her reply was embarrassed but respectful, intimating that she was ready to adopt any mode of employment which the Countess might be pleased to suggest. Her ladyship gave a smile of approbation to the acquiescent disposition which the young lady manifested, and added:
“If Miss Primrose could conquer a little feeling of timidity, which might naturally enough be experienced by one so retired in her habits, it would be possible for her, with her great vocal powers and musical talent, not only to find means of maintenance, but to arrive at a competent independence, by adopting the musical profession. Then she would also enjoy the pleasure of good society. If such arrangement be agreeable, I will most willingly charge myself with providing the preparatory instruction under a distinguished professor. What does my young friend think of such occupation?”
Had sincerity been the readiest road to the patronage and friendship of the great, this question might have been very readily and easily answered. But Penelope knew better than to suppose that any advantage could arise from a direct opposition to the wishes of a patron. Repugnant as she was to the proposal, she dared not to whisper the least syllable of contradiction, on the ground of dislike, to the profession; but after a blush of mortification, which the Countess mistook for a symptom of diffidence, she replied:
“I fear that your ladyship is disposed to estimate rather too highly the humble talents I may possess, and that I shall not answer the expectations which so distinguished patronage might raise.”
The Countess was not altogether pleased with this shadow of an objection; for it seemed to call in question her own discernment. She therefore replied with some quickness:
“I beg your pardon, Miss Primrose: I have usually been considered as something of a judge in these matters; and, if I do not greatly mistake, you are peculiarly qualified for the profession; and, if you would condescend to adopt my recommendation, I will be answerable for its success.”
The Countess, with all her kindness and considerateness, had not the slightest idea that there could be in a young person, situated as Penelope, any feeling of pride or thought of degradation. But pride was in being before titles were invented; and even republics, which, in the arrogance of equality, may repel from their political vocabulary all distinctions of fellow citizens, cannot eradicate pride from the human heart. In a civilized country there is not perhaps an individual to be found who is incapable of the sensation of degradation. Miss Primrose thought it degrading to become a public singer; she felt that it would be publishing to the world that she was not independent. The world cares little about such matters. Right or wrong, however, this feeling took possession of the young lady’s mind; and as pride does not enter the mind by means of reasoning, it will not be expelled by any process of ratiocination. For all this, however, the worthy Countess could make no allowance; and it appeared to her that if a young person were under the necessity of serving her superiors in rank for the sake of maintenance, it signified very little what mode of servitude were applied to.
There was also another consideration which weighed not a little with the Countess, in almost insisting upon Miss Primrose’s adopting the musical profession. Her ladyship was a distinguished patroness, and a most excellent judge of musical talent; and there was a rival patroness who had never yet been able to produce, under her auspices, anything at all equal to Penelope Primrose. The mortification or defeat of a rival is a matter of great moment to minds of every description. Whenever there is the weakness of rivalry there must be of necessity also the vanity of triumph, and to that occasionally much will be sacrificed.
Mrs Greendale, who was present at this discussion, sided most cordially with the Countess; but had the proposal come from any other quarter, in all human probability it would have been resented as an indignity. Penelope was also well aware that it was absolutely necessary that she should leave the asylum in which so many of her few days had been spent, and she therefore, with as good a grace as her feelings permitted, gave assent to the proposal which the Countess had made. And thereby her generous patroness was softened.
The discussion of this question occupied no inconsiderable portion of time, though we have not thought it necessary to repeat at length the very common-place dialogue which passed on the subject. Our readers must have very languid imaginations if they cannot supply the omission for themselves. Suffice it to say, that the arguments used by the Countess of Smatterton were much stronger than the objections which arose in the mind of Penelope Primrose; and the consideration of these arguments, backed by the reflection that she had no other immediately available resource, determined the dependent one to acquiesce in that which her soul abhorred. It was all very true, as the amiable Countess observed, that an occupation which introduced the person so employed to the notice and into the saloons of the nobility, could not be essentially degrading; it was also very true that there could be no moral objection to a profession which had been ornamented by some of the purest and most virtuous characters. All this was very true; but notwithstanding this and much more than this which was urged by the Countess, still Penelope did not like it. There is no accounting for tastes.
Some young ladies there are who think that, if they should be situated as Penelope was, they would not suffer any inducement to lead them to a compliance with such a proposal. They imagine that no earthly consideration whatever should compel them to that which they abhorred or disapproved. They cannot think that Penelope deserved the title of heroine, if she could thus easily surrender her judgment and bend her will to the dictation of a patroness. But let these young ladies be informed, that in this compliance lay no small portion of the heroism of Penelope’s character. She gained a victory over herself; she did not gratify a pert self-will at the expense of propriety and decorum, and she had no inclination to play the part of a Quixote.
It is an easy thing for a young man to set himself up as independent. The world with all its various occupations is before him. He may engage in as many freaks as suit his fancy; he may dwell and live where and how he pleases; but the case is widely different with a young woman delicately brought up, respectably connected, and desirous of retaining a respectable condition and the countenance of her friends. She is truly dependent, and must oftentimes sacrifice her judgment and feelings to avoid more serious and important sacrifices.
Penelope used to talk about dependence while under the roof of her benevolent and kind-hearted relative, now no more. But she felt it not then, as she felt it when her uncle had departed from life. Then it was merely a name, now it became a reality.
When the Countess had prevailed upon Penelope to give her assent to the proposal of publicly displaying her musical talents, her ladyship was in exceeding good humour; and when a lady of high rank is in good humour, her condescension, her affability, her wit, her wisdom, and whatever she pleases to assume or affect of the agreeable and praiseworthy, are infinitely above all language of commendation to such a person as Mrs Greendale. The widow therefore was quite charmed with the exquisitely lady-like manners of the Countess, astonished at her great good sense; and, had the Countess requested it, Mrs Greendale herself would have become a public singer.
While this negociation was going on at the castle at Smatterton, another discussion concerning Penelope was passing at the rectory at Neverden.
“Well, papa,” said Miss Darnley, “I took particular notice of Penelope Primrose yesterday, and purposely mentioned the name of Lord Spoonbill, to see whether it would produce any emotion, and I did not observe anything that led me to suppose what you suspect.”
“Very likely, my child, you could not discern it. That was not a time for the expression of any such feelings. Her thoughts were then otherwise engaged. But I can say that, from what I have observed, I have no reason whatever to doubt that her affections are not as they were with respect to your brother. You know that Robert wrote to her by the same conveyance which brought us a letter, and although I gave every opportunity and hint I could to that purpose, Miss Primrose did not mention having heard.”
“But, my dear papa,” replied Miss Darnley, still unwilling to think unfavourably of so valued a friend as Penelope, “might not her thoughts be otherwise engaged at the time, when you visited her; for you recollect that your call was much sooner after Dr Greendale’s death than our’s was.”
Mr Darnley smiled with a look of incredulity, and said, “You are very charitable in your judgment, my dear, but I think in this instance you extend your candour rather too far. I did not only observe symptoms of alienation, but had, I tell you, almost a proof of the fact. I went so far as to allude to her engagement and to offer our house as an asylum; and her reply was, that she would be at the direction of Lady Smatterton. Whether she be vain and conceited enough to aspire to Lord Spoonbill’s hand, I will not pretend to say, but I am abundantly convinced that she does not regard your brother with the same affection that she did some time ago; and there certainly have been symptoms to that effect in the course of her correspondence, or Robert would never have used such language, or made such enquiries as he has in his last letter. And I think it would be but an act of kindness, or even of justice, to let your brother know what are our suspicions.”
Now Mary Darnley, who was rather inclined to be blue-stockingish, and had of course, a mighty admiration for wisdom, and learning, and science, thought it not unlikely that if Penelope had changed her mind, and transferred her affections to another, that other was more likely to be Mr Kipperson than Lord Spoonbill. For, she reasoned, it was not probable that a young woman so brought up as Penelope had been, should be at all pleased with a character so profligate as Lord Spoonbill was generally supposed to be. Then Mr Kipperson, though he was double Penelope’s age, yet was a very agreeable man, and far superior to the common run of farmers; and he was a man of very extensive information and of great reading. The reasoning then went on very consequentially to prove, that as Penelope loved reading, and as Mr Kipperson loved reading, therefore Penelope must love Mr Kipperson. This perhaps was not the best kind of reasoning in the world, yet it might do in default of a better to support a theory.
The truth of the matter is, that Miss Mary Darnley herself was a little disposed to admire Mr Kipperson, in virtue of his literary and scientific character; and the truth also is, that Mr Kipperson had really manifested symptoms of admiration towards Penelope Primrose; and last, but not least, is the truth, that Miss Mary Darnley was somewhat inclined to be jealous of the attention which the literary and scientific Mr Kipperson had recently paid to Miss Primrose.
This theory of Miss Mary Darnley seemed the most plausible, and it was therefore adopted by her mother and sisters, and by them it was unanimously concluded that Penelope was not unfavourable to the suit of Mr Kipperson; and then they thought that the young lady had behaved, or was behaving very ill to their brother; and then they thought that their brother might do much better for himself; and then they thought that Mr Kipperson was at least fifty, though till then it had been the common opinion that he was but forty; and then they thought that no dependence could be placed on any one; and then they made many wise remarks on the unexpectedness of human events, not considering that the experience of millions, and the events of centuries, have conspired to shew that events take any other direction than that which is expected. Ann Darnley was sorry for it, Martha laughed at it, and Mary was angry with it.
As for Mr Darnley himself, he was not much moved; but he could not admit of the idea that he was wrong in his conjecture that Miss Primrose was partial to Lord Spoonbill, therefore he could not see the force of the reasoning which went to prove, that the transfer of Penelope’s affections was not from Robert Darnley to Lord Spoonbill, but to Mr Kipperson.
“Beside,” said Mr Darnley, “is it likely that a young woman of such high notions as Miss Primrose should think of accepting an offer from Mr Kipperson, who, though he is a man of property and of literary taste, is still but a farmer, or agriculturist. It is far more likely that the vanity of the young lady should fix her hopes on Lord Spoonbill, especially if his lordship has paid her, as is not unlikely, very marked attentions.”
Although in the family at the rectory of Neverden there was diversity of opinion as to the person on whom Miss Primrose had placed her affections, there was at least unanimity in the feeling and expression of disapprobation. And, in pursuance of this feeling, there was a diminution, and indeed nearly a cessation of intercourse between the parties. Many days passed away, and no message and no visitor from Neverden arrived at Smatterton.
This was deeply and painfully felt by Penelope, and the more so as it was absolutely impossible for her to ask an explanation. Indeed, she concluded that no explanation was wanting; the fact that no letter had been received for so long time, and the circumstance of the coldness and change in the manners of the young ladies at Neverden, were sufficient manifestations to Penelope that, for some cause or other, there was a change in the mind of Robert Darnley towards her. Then in addition to these things was the reflection, that she had allowed herself to be persuaded contrary to her own judgment to adopt the profession of music as a public singer, or at least as a hired performer. Thus, in a very short time, she was plunged from the height of hope to the depth of despair. A little while ago she had been taught to entertain expectations of her father’s return to England in a state of independence; she had also reason to hope that, the lapse of a few months, there might come from a distant land one for whom she did entertain a high esteem, and who should become her guardian, and guide, and companion through life. A little while ago also, she had in the society and sympathy of her worthy and benevolent uncle, Dr Greendale, a refuge from the storms of life, and some consolation to enable her to bear up aright under the pressure of life’s evils, its doubts and its fears. All these hopes were now vanished and dispersed, and she left to the mercy of a rude world. Her best benefactor was in his grave, and those very agreeable and pleasant companions in whom he confided as in relatives, and more than sisters, they also had deserted her. It required a great effort of mind to bear up under these calamities. Her mind however had been habituated to exertion, and it had gained strength from the efforts which it had formerly made; but still her constitution was not stoical; she had strong and deep feelings. It was with some considerable effort that she did not yield so far to the pressure of present circumstances as to lose all elasticity of mind and to relinquish all love of life. And pity itself need not seek and cannot find an object more worthy of its tears than one living, who has lost all relish for life, and ceased to enjoy its brightness or to dread its darkness.