Men no more desire another’s secrets, to conceal them, than they would another’s purse, for the pleasure only of carrying it.—Fielding.
WHAT ARE COMFORTS?
BY MARTIN DOYLE.
A few months ago I had the honour of passing a day in England with a gentleman of considerable property, who took the trouble of showing me a very extensive park and tillage farm near his manor-house, around which every thing indicated good taste and abundant wealth in the possessor.
It has rarely been my good fortune to view more beautiful scenery than that which the demesne of F—— possesses within itself, or a place in which it would be more difficult to find a want, either in the nature or extent of the landscape: yet as we walked along, and were admiring some undulating land, about six miles distant, Mr F—— suddenly stopped, and remarked “that he had long wished for that hill, in order to plant on it a clump or two of trees, as a picturesque termination to his prospect: it would be such a comfort to have it! I have offered forty years’ purchase for that land,” said he; “but the possessor is an obstinate fellow, and won’t part with it.”
I ventured to suggest that he should endeavour to prevail upon the owner of the hill to plant the desired clumps; but to this he gave a decided negative, saying, that it would be very uncomfortable indeed to be indebted to such an unaccommodating person for any thing.
At dinner, the lady of the house, after asking me if I had been pleased with Mr F——’s farming, and proposing some other questions of that nature, which she considerately accommodated to my capacity, in order to relieve me if possible from the embarrassment natural to a man of my station in life when sitting at table with his betters, and surrounded with luxuries quite new to him, inquired with great suavity of manner if I did not think that the owner of the hill property was very “tiresome” in refusing Mr F—— the little comfort on which his heart was fixed; and in the course of the dessert informed me that the governess was a very “comfortable” person to have about children: that the King of the French had no “comfort” in his ministers, and must find the attempts upon his life very “tiresome” indeed.
Having got over the dinner business, during which I had been really uncomfortable from the dread of doing something very awkward, I became composed and familiar by degrees, and asked questions in my turn; and was assured that there is very little comfort to be had in a mere country life without a first-rate bailiff and gardener, newspapers, new publications, a billiard table, and society of a certain class within visiting distance; that hot baths are indispensable comforts within the house, and that one adjoining the stables is also a great comfort to a hunter after a hard day’s work.
It was also among their comforts to have the nursery in a remote wing, where the cry of a child could not reach the seniors of the family in their apartments, and a very great comfort to have a pew in the church with a fireplace in it.
My host, who would not allow me to leave Castle F—— that night, passed much of the evening in reading the papers of that day, standing at intervals with his back to the fire, which comfort he seemed to enjoy extremely, while I threw in a word now and then to him or his lady, to whom I detailed the receipt for making catsup from nettles, as it appears in my Cyclopædia of Agriculture. “This economical method of making catsup,” she was pleased to say, “would be a great comfort to the poor;” and so it would, as I ventured to observe, if they had any thing to eat that required such sauce.
I was conducted at night to a bedroom, with large mirrors, a pair of wax candles on the dressing-table, a luxurious chair placed opposite the fire, and an immensely high bedstead, curtained with damask satin. Being subject to the nightmare, I mounted this (by a step-ladder) with fear and trembling, lest I should roll out in the night; and the apprehension of this calamity in a strange house, and among great people, kept me from sleeping all night, and rendered me extremely uncomfortable.