CHAPTER XVIII.
Even as Mr Kipperson predicted so it came to pass; Mr Primrose met at dinner the new rector of Smatterton.
The great difference which there is between an old man and a young one, is one cause of the general common-place notion of the deterioration of the human species. It seemed a very great transition from Dr Greendale to Mr Pringle. The doctor used to be grave, sedate, yet cheerful, very placid and gentle in his manner, and towards his parishioners he wore the aspect of a father. His dress too was so venerable. He used to wear a long single-breasted coat, and he had such fine broad old-fashioned silver buckles at his knees and on his shoes; his hat too was just such a hat as a clergyman ought to wear. And when he walked out into the village he always carried under his arm an old gold-headed walking cane; for he seldom leant upon it. He walked slowly and demurely, and when the little boys and girls who met him planted themselves, according to their clumsy but sincere politeness, directly before him to make their bow or curtesy, he patted them on the head, and they felt themselves as much honoured and pleased as the alderman of some provincial borough when the king places the sword on his shoulder. And when the old people met him he talked to them, and, even more than that, he listened to their talk; he could not always understand it, but he paid attention to it and it pleased them. Sometimes he would be in a gayer and livelier mood than usual, especially if in his morning studies he had been successful in detecting, or eloquent in pointing, some irrefragable argument against the sectarians. And then, if he met any young woman of pretty and smiling looks, for there were many such in Smatterton, he would ask her when she was going to be married, and then she would laugh and try to blush, and she would go home and tell her mother what a funny man Dr Greendale was.
Now whatever might be the virtues, moral or professional, of the Rev. Charles Pringle, it is very clear that he could not find the way to the hearts of his parishioners by the same means as his predecessor. A slightly built youth of five-and-twenty would look anything but venerable, if dressed in attire of the same form, cut and complexion as that which Dr Greendale wore. The gold-headed cane, the looped hat, the slow and stately walk, would not at all answer with a young man; and had he asked any young woman when she was going to be married, it would have been thought quite indecorous. The old women too would not think of telling a young man round-about stories concerning their sufferings with the rheumatiz, or other ills that “flesh,” or more properly skin and bone, may be “heir to.”
It was therefore essential and unavoidable that there should be a difference between the old and the new rector. It will however be supposed by our readers, who remember that we have described the Earl of Smatterton as boasting that he always bestowed his livings according to merit,—it will be supposed, that the Rev. Charles Pringle had merit, though not precisely of the same nature as the merit of Dr Greendale. The merit for which his lordship bestowed the living of Smatterton on Mr Pringle, was not his own merit but that of his father. For the young rector was, as already noticed, the son of Lord Smatterton’s house-steward. This steward had been faithful in his office, and was a great favorite with his lordship; but though he was faithful he had saved a little money, and was desirous of setting his son forward in life. The father was of opinion that the legal profession would suit the young man very well, seeing he was so very clever. The son also was perfectly well aware of his own cleverness; but as the confinement of an attorney’s office did not suit his inclinations, he excused himself from that pursuit. On the same or similar ground he declined the medical profession, inasmuch as it was contrary to his notions of comfort to be called from his bed at midnight, or to be interrupted at his meals. The church seemed to be the only comfortable profession, and on that the young gentleman fixed his choice. Moreover it gratified his vanity to go to college. He might have had ambition, but he did not like trouble; and being, as we have said, a clever young man, he shewed his cleverness by studying only just so much as might save him from being plucked. He obtained his degree and that was all. With equal dexterity and cleverness did he manage that reading which was necessary preparatory to taking orders. The examining chaplain who passed him, observed that he was a clever man, for he had most ingeniously hit upon the exact minimum of information which would enable him to pass. There is a proverb, which says that lazy folks take the most pains; and in many cases Mr Pringle illustrated this proverb, for nobody could take more pains than he did to avoid labour.
We cannot see how the Earl of Smatterton was to blame for appointing this young gentleman to the living of Smatterton. It is not to be supposed that his lordship should take the trouble to examine the youth; and as the father was a faithful servant the Earl was rewarding merit by providing for the son.
More remains to be said concerning the new rector. He was a man of good temper and very harmless disposition. He was not at all given to quarrelling, for he did not like the trouble; and he was very easy to deal with in fixing the composition for his tithes. The farmers thought him rather proud; for he took very little notice of any of them except Mr Kipperson, who kept an excellent table. He paid great attention to Miss Spoonbill, though his only recompense for that attention was an occasional cup of tea, and that by no means strong: but it was handed to him on a large silver waiter, and presented by a servant who wore a very splendid livery. There was much courtesy of manner in Mr Pringle; he was, according to the best of his ability, a perfect gentleman, and whenever he observed any article of dress, or mode of expression or pronunciation, or any species of action peculiar to persons in high life, he copied it most faithfully as far as his profession would allow. His courtesy was very great, for he had the sagacity to know that, if he was too lazy to provide for himself, he must persuade some one else to provide for him.
One word more, and that concerning the young man’s politics. The world does not much care about Mr Pringle’s politics, but still the politics of a clergyman looking for preferment are to himself matters of great moment. Before Mr Charles Pringle went to Oxford, he was what is called liberal in his politics; at Oxford he found it more genteel to be a Tory; but under the patronage of a great Whig lord, it was a matter of course that he should regard the Whig aristocracy with reverence and approbation.
We should not have said so much of Mr Pringle, had it not been that he had once seen Penelope Primrose and greatly admired her, and had it not also been that the return of Mr Primrose to England rendered it a very promising speculation for the young gentleman to think seriously of paying his addresses to her.
When Mr Primrose first called at the rectory the reverend divine was not visible, for he had not finished the duties of the toilet. But hearing that Mr Primrose was in England and at Smatterton, he felt most happy in an opportunity of paying his respects. And such was the candour of Mr Primrose, that he thought the new rector a very agreeable sensible man. The two gentlemen at dinner-time talked with great fluency on a variety of topics which neither of them understood or cared about. Now Mr Primrose was at this time in that state of mind which prepared and disposed him to be easily pleased, and therefore the efforts of Mr Pringle to make himself agreeable succeeded to admiration. Quite delighted was the rector of Smatterton to hear the father of Penelope express himself so well pleased with that village as to be desirous of taking up his residence there. Very politely did the reverend gentleman remark that there was no house in the village fit for Mr Primrose’s reception. Mr Primrose however observed that he was by no means particular, and that a mere cottage would answer his purpose. Mr Pringle thought that he should have no objection to giving up the parsonage and finding a residence for himself, and there was some little talk to that purpose, but nothing was definitely agreed upon.
As the two gentlemen were engaged in chat about everything and nothing, a very unexpected interruption was given to their conversation by the entrance of Robert Darnley. He had arrived at Neverden much sooner than he had been expected, and hearing that Mr Primrose had been there on the preceding day, and was now in all probability at Smatterton, he determined, notwithstanding all persuasions to the contrary, to ride over and see the father of Penelope. The young gentleman’s sisters were unanimous in expressing their disapprobation of such a step; and Mr Darnley the elder would have interfered with the pompousness of authority to prevent it, had he not been sagacious enough to know that such interference would be ineffectual, and wise enough to consider that it is very impolitic to endanger one’s dignity by uttering commands which will with impunity be disobeyed. He could not however help giving his opinion. He was surprised, he said, that a young man of such good sense and independent spirit as Robert Darnley should let himself down so far as to turn suppliant. The young lady, he observed, had already given abundant manifestation of the change of her mind and the indifferency of her feelings on the subject, it would therefore be worse than useless to attempt to renew the acquaintance, it would be absolutely humiliating, and there never could subsist a right feeling of cordiality between them.
All this talk, however, had no influence on Robert Darnley: he was not sure that there had been so pointed a manifestation of change of mind; he had too good an opinion of Penelope’s understanding to believe that she should have capriciously changed her mind; he thought it very probable that there might have been some miscarriage of letters; and he resolved that he would not suffer the matter to rest in the present dubious and mysterious twilight of information. For he very thoughtfully remarked, that it was possible there might be, through the irregular transmission of letters, some errors which might lead Miss Primrose to consider him as the person dropping the acquaintance. At all events, as he had never had any difference with Mr Primrose, but, on the contrary, had been very civilly and politely treated when they met at St Helena on their voyage home, it would be but an act of common civility to pay his respects to the father of Penelope now that he was in the immediate neighbourhood.
There is something pleasant and refreshing in the contemplation of that wholesome state of mind in which Robert Darnley shewed himself to be on the present occasion. People sometimes make a great blustering and a noisy parade about demanding an explanation; but they generally set about this demanding an explanation in such a hot-headed, bullying style, as to render explanation almost impossible, and make that which is perplexed still more perplexed. It was not so with the younger Darnley. He was no miracle either of wisdom or virtue; but he had good sense and good feeling; and he also had a tolerable good opinion of his own discernment, and he could not easily bring himself to believe, notwithstanding all that had been said by his father and his sisters, that he had misapprehended or overrated the character of Penelope Primrose.
These feelings, which were habitual and constitutional to Robert Darnley, gave him a natural and easy cheerfulness of look and manner. When therefore he was announced at the rectory of Smatterton as enquiring for Mr Primrose, the announcement was received with great satisfaction.
“My good friend,” exclaimed Mr Primrose, with much cordiality, “I am most happy to see you. So you are just arrived in England. But you must have made very great haste to arrive here from the Downs in little more than four and twenty hours.”
“I have not travelled quite so rapidly as that, sir,” replied Mr Robert Darnley, “but you may suppose I lost no time: and I am happy that I am here soon enough to pay my respects to you before your return. It would also have given me pleasure could I have met Miss Primrose.”
“Would it indeed? What! after she has jilted you? You are a young man of very forgiving disposition.”
“I must first of all know for a certainty that the lady has, as you say, jilted me, before I feel resentment. The correspondence was interrupted, but that might be accidental. I must have an explanation, then it will be time enough to be angry.”
“Well said, young man; I like your notions. But from what I hear, both at Neverden and Smatterton, I fear that my young lady has been fascinated by a sounding title. I hear a great deal that I cannot well understand. If travellers see strange things abroad, they also hear strange things when they come home again.”
Mr Primrose ceased speaking. Robert Darnley looked thoughtful; and the parties looked at each other with some feeling of perplexity. The father of Penelope, as being the most impetuous, though by far the oldest of the two, after a short interval continued: “But what do you propose to do? Or what must I say or do for you? Will you set off with me to London tomorrow morning?”
Robert Darnley looked serious at that proposal, and replied: “So early as tomorrow morning, under present circumstances, I think hardly praticable. I do not know what would be the consequence to my poor mother, if, after so long an absence from home, I should omit, just at my return, to eat my Christmas dinner with her.”
“Well, I shall go to town,” said Mr Primrose, “and I will endeavour to ascertain the truth of the matter; and if there has been any accidental loss of letters, it will be a great pity to make that the cause of breaking off an old acquaintance.”
“I simply wish it, sir, to be understood by Miss Primrose, that the cessation of the correspondence has not been my act and deed. But that I wrote three letters to her from Calcutta, to none of which I have ever received any answer. If the acquaintance is to be discontinued, it shall not rest on me, as arising from any fickleness on my part.”
“Good, sir, very good. You are a comparative stranger to me, it is true; but I commend your spirit, that you are not hasty in resentment before you know for what. And this I can tell you,” continued he, in a more slow and serious tone, “such was my thorough confidence in the good sense and discernment of my poor brother Greendale, that I cannot but feel respect for any one whom he respected; and I know that he respected you most sincerely.”
Thereupon the two gentlemen, with cordial grasp and tearful eyes, shook each other by the hand most heartily, and parted very well pleased with each other.