Caroline Douglas.
LETTER XXXVI.
From Emily Douglas to Miss Sandford.
My dearest Julia,
This will, probably, be my last letter from Marsden, unless any unfavourable change in my dear uncle’s health should alter the present arrangements for our departure. We are to go by Brighton and Dieppe, instead of by the route first proposed; and you may expect to hear from me as frequently as possible, though I shall never persecute you with my travels as travels: for I do believe there is nothing left in France or Italy, which has not been served up in every practicable variety of form, to meet each different character of taste; but I trust to your affection for finding interest in every stage of our journey, though the map of it be so familiar to your memory as to deprive me of all hope to amuse you by descriptions of scenery or costumes. Since I wrote last, I have seen much that was new to me, without going abroad; and, though I should be very ungrateful not to acknowledge thankfully the great kindness with which we have been received in Hampshire, I cannot permit even gratitude to blind me, and confound distinctions which I never desire to see melted into an undistinguishable mass of uniform colouring. My dear Julia, I sometimes stare with such amazement at the things that present themselves, as to fear that my eye-lids may be overstrained, and lose the power of closing; but, instead of egotizing on the effects produced upon my mind, I will beg you to accompany me to three or four splendid mansions in our neighbourhood, where you shall judge for yourself. About a week ago, Mr. Otway, Frederick, Charlotte, and I, took a delightful ride through the New Forest, to pay our respects to Mrs. Hannaper, a Begum of this country, who commands several hundred votes, and who is, therefore, a grand bone of contention in this terrible electioneering struggle. She has a beautiful niece, Miss Ormsby, who is dressed all over in the colours of that party which her aunt espouses; and is so full of stripes that she might be supposed to have made her gown and shawl out of the flag of a ship belonging to the United States. This young lady assists Mrs. Hannaper in canvassing for her favourite candidate, to whom it is said that she is to be married; and I have heard many gentlemen complain of being attacked with such perseverance, as to find great difficulty in retreating from the united influence of beauty and supplication. As we rode along, several groups of riotous, drunken men, in smock frocks, bearing bunches of buff and blue ribbons in their hats, interrupted our progress, and startled our horses, by tumultuary shouts which rent the air with cries “Sir Christopher Cromie, and Mrs. Hannaper for ever!” As we approached to Lyndhurst, the vociferation increased, and we were just consulting whether it would not be prudent to turn about, when a crowd came rushing down the road, which branched off at right angles with that by which we were journeying forward; and we found ourselves immediately surrounded by three or four hundred people, who had taken Mrs. Hannaper’s horses from the carriage in which she and her niece were sitting, and insisted on drawing them home themselves, to testify their attachment to the cause which she patronizes. Mrs. Hannaper is apparently from sixty to sixty-five, with a face and form neither rough nor unpleasing; but a cloth habit, tight beaver hat, over a Brutus wig, a coloured silk handkerchief tied round her throat, and a collar rising almost to her cheek bones, gave so masculine an air as completely to deceive me, while the interposition of some drooping branches of an ash tree concealed the lower part of her dress from my view. She stood up in her barouchette, waved her hat to the multitude, huzzaed, and acted so like a man upon the occasion, that when I came near enough to see a petticoat, I blushed for the honour of my sex. Her niece held a parasol over her head, and seemed less inclined to make these outrageous demonstrations than her aunt; but she held a sort of banner in the left hand with Sir Christopher’s name worked in gold letters, and her hat was ornamented with a great cockade of his colours. The carriage stopped when we appeared, and Mrs. Hannaper covering her head sat down, and desiring Mr. Otway, whom she had previously seen, to present my brother, sister, and me, very politely requested us to breakfast on the following day, when she meant, as she told us, to turn out a bagged fox; and her “Liliputians”—the name by which she distinguished a favourite pack of some tiny breed, with the technical appellation of which I am unacquainted. “Come early,” added she, “Sir Christopher, and a few friends, will be at Parham, where I shall be happy to see you.” I was beginning to say why we could not accept her kind invitation, when, in the same moment, I read “do let us go” in Frederick’s eye, and a glance from Mr. Otway’s, in which was legibly written, “it is something new, do not refuse.” I suppose that I mismanaged my excuse, for Mrs. Hannaper, nothing daunted, replied, “oh really you must come, I never take refusals.” Mr. Otway told her that some of the party would certainly attend her; and the intoxicated leaders becoming impatient of so long a parley, threw up a cloud of hats into the air, with a deafening uproar, and the ladies were whirled along to our no small contentment, for our steeds threatened, by the noise, to become ungovernable. When we had resumed our peaceful track, we interchanged, as you may believe, some remarks upon the extraordinary vision that had just crossed our path. Mr. Otway was excessively amused by Charlotte’s asking whether Mrs. Hannaper, and her niece, were Blue-stockings. “No, I dare say not,” answered our friend. “Why do you suppose them to be so?” “Oh,” replied Charlotte, “I have no reason, further than that from the masculine air of these ladies, I conclude that they must be disliked extremely by the other sex, and perhaps considered intruders sufficiently to be called Blues.” An explanation ensued, and we learned that, though it is an inexcusable offence for a woman to fancy that she possesses any understanding, or is capable of any mental acquirement, notwithstanding that Heaven may have bestowed upon her the brightest abilities, it is perfectly admissible, under certain circumstances, to be a female Nimrod—to hunt and course, dress like a mail coachman, drive a curricle at full speed, ride like a Bedouin Arab, and be in at the death. Nay, Mr. Otway assured us, that Mrs. Hannaper is generally ornamented by the Fox’s brush in returning from the chase, and that she cries talliho with peculiar gusto! “But then,” added he, “she is a woman of immense fortune; and, however people might laugh at inferior folk, so many gentlemen are aspiring to the hand of this Diana, that a thousand knights would take the field to resent the slightest indignity offered to the goddess of their adoration.” No language can paint my astonishment to learn that this old lady went out hunting; to hear her huzzaing, and to see her manly costume, had been wonder enough for one day; but to fancy it possible, that a veteran belle of Mrs. Hannaper’s age, could dream of marriage, or, like queen Elizabeth, permit herself, in this age of the world, to be surrounded by people daring to talk of love to a woman of sixty, was something beyond my comprehension or credulity. For the first time in my life I thought, dearest Mr. Otway ill-natured, and, slackening my pace, fell back with Charlotte, allowing him, and Frederick, to take the lead—shall I own my weakness? I felt so humbled for my sex, that low spirits took possession of me; a melancholy dialogue succeeded, and a hearty fit of tears relieved the oppression which manners so novel had occasioned. My sister, and I, entreated that we might not be forced to attend the morning party; so Frederick went alone, and came back thoroughly disgusted with all that he saw. A gay party met at a breakfast à la fourchette, where the ladies, he told us, played their parts most vigorously at ham, dried fish, and all sorts of substantial fare, not disdaining to wash it down with a glass of champagne.
“To horse, to horse,” was the next order of the day, and the ladies, dressed in uniform, rode in the most sportsman-like manner, clearing gates, banks, and ditches. I cannot dwell upon the disgraceful theme. Alas! is learning decried? Are women ridiculed for improving their minds, and gaining useful knowledge, while such a surrender of every characteristic that distinguishes the feminine from the masculine gender, is tolerated and encouraged? I feel a nausea when I hear the name of Hannaper; but I have not done with her yet. In a day or two after our meeting, she came to see us, having duly ascertained that my uncle would not give his interest to either party at the approaching election; and certainly nothing can be more appropriate than the name by which she is called in the country. “Jack Hannaper,” exactly prepares one for the abrupt masculine unceremonious assault which she makes on the people at whose houses she visits. Mamma’s gentle and retiring manner, the gravity of her dress, and total absence of interest in the gossip of the neighbourhood, induced the Dame of Parham Hall, to address herself chiefly to my uncle, whom she overpowered with her volubility. After having talked of her dogs which have got the distemper, of a horse which she had shot, perhaps with her own hand, because it had the glanders, she proceeded, and with all the technicality of the hustings, proclaimed the state of the poll, her intention of appearing on a favourite charger at the head of her plumpers, and giving a coup de grace to the enemy. Perceiving, it may be, from the languid appearance of my dear uncle, that he was fatigued by this farrago of nonsense, Mrs. Hannaper suddenly turned to me, and said, “Oh, but my dear Miss Douglas, you really had a great loss in not coming to Parham the other day. We had very good fun I assure you, and I dare say you will be glad to hear that your brother was much admired. He rides particularly well, and no centaur ever sat a horse more firmly. Upon my word he is a very handsome fine young fellow, and I have no doubt will make a figure yet. I shall be always happy to see him at Parham Hall.” Frederick’s praises would go far to put me in good humour with any medium through which they met my ear; but these fell upon it in sounds so coarse, and unaccustomed, that I felt they were a sort of profanation, and wished that my brother had never joined the unrefined society of this unfeminine female. My cheeks glowed, but not with pleasure. It was a fevered flush. I longed for Mrs. Hannaper’s departure, and did not know how to answer her; but she did not leave me many seconds in a state of embarrassment on Frederick’s account. All minor vexation was presently merged in the shame which I felt on my own, when this “she wolf with unrelenting fangs,” seized my arm, and, starting with real or affected recollection, exclaimed, “Well, but only fancy my omitting to tell you before, that Sir Archibald Johnson is thinking of you for his son, who makes no kind of objection, and if your fortune can liberate the estate from some thousands of embarrassment, it will be quite a nice hit. Lady Johnson of Norbury Park will not sound badly. The settlements and pin money will be liberal I dare say, and any assistance which my work-people in London can give, I shall be vastly happy, I assure you, to offer. You know that you need not have much at present: a few things made by the first hands will do, till you go to town yourself, and choose your own jewels, and select your own favourite colours. I am sure that Sir Archibald will be anxious to hasten matters, for I know at this moment, that a sum of ten thousand is called in by Mr. Fletcher, who is going to marry one of his girls famously to that madcap, Colonel Anstruther, who will be as rich as a jew bye and bye. To be sure he is a sad roué at present, but either he will sow his wild oats or run a muck. If the latter, he will shoot himself, or end his days in the Fleet; but people must not look forward; if we did, what a dull sort of thing you know it would be. I doat on the little Scotch song, which says ‘the present moment is our ain, the next we never saw;’ how pretty!”
By this time I was burning indeed: shame, indignation, and surprise, were so strongly excited, that, like contrary forces, they had the effect of paralyzing all movement. I sat like a fool, totally unable to speak; and how long I should have been doomed to listen to a strain so uncouth, the more humiliating, because uttered in the presence of mamma and my uncle, I know not, if Mr. Bolton had not been announced in this crisis, when Mrs. Hannaper jumped up, called her niece, who had been talking to Charlotte in the music-room adjoining, and, hastily nodding to me, shook my hand with an air of intelligence, saying, “I hate old Bolton, so must take fresh ground; well, we will talk over matters when next we meet, and perhaps the neighbourhood may be enlivened by more than one wedding ere long.” Miss Ormsby laughed so loud as this sally burst upon her ear, that I was absolutely confounded. “Good morrow” being hurried over, the same opening of the door served to usher in the old gentleman, to whose rescue I had been once before indebted, and to float away the most intolerable specimen of inelegance and indelicacy that I ever met with in the form of woman. The dear little Mr. Bolton was received with rapture. He seemed like a guardian spirit, and I believe that he saw how truly he was welcome to me, as in the most good-humoured and playful manner possible, he said, “Oh, do you know I have had a great escape. Mrs. Hannaper looked as if she could have eaten me up; and only that your hall is so spacious, I question whether I could have avoided a bite at least. Miss Douglas, I take it into my head that this amazonian chieftainess is not a greater favourite of yours than she is of mine.” I confessed that she would not be my model, and Mr. Bolton continued, “But you and I shall have ample revenge, if I may depend on a little bit of backstairs intelligence which has reached me through my own man.
“Now, you must not set me down as an old gossip because I tell you so, and suppose that I am always employed in running to and fro, to pick up scandal; but really poetic justice requires that such a creature as Mrs. Hannaper should receive some check, and be reminded of her age, before she is called to her great account. So far therefore, from thinking myself ill-natured at chuckling in the anticipation of a disappointment, which I have good reason to believe is suspended by a hair over her head, I am bound as a Christian to rejoice in any thing that may awaken her to a sense of her folly, and drive her to more serious thoughts than those which possess her idle brain.”
Much as I dislike Mrs. Hannaper, there was something so repugnant to my feelings of humanity in suffering a fellow-creature to encounter any ill, which timely notice might prevent, that I expostulated with Mr. Bolton, and implored him to apprize the old lady of his apprehensions, that so the catastrophe, however it might threaten, should be averted. Mr. Bolton was silent for a moment, while he fixed his eyes intently upon me, then catching my hand affectionately, he pressed it like a friend of the “olden time,” and with a tear starting to his eye, said, “God bless you child! my heart opens to the voice of nature, and it has taken me by surprise to-day, for her’s is a language which I seldom hear.” Oh, Julia, when such a commonplace sentiment as that which I had expressed, in wishing to spare a fellow-creature pain, had power to astonish by its novelty, and delight for its moral virtue, what a comment is furnished by such an anecdote as this upon modern society. If this be the world (and people are the same I suppose, whether rolling through the streets of London, or over the roads in Hampshire), defend me from its attractions. I feel like the country mouse longing for my grey peas and peaceful Glenalta; but the lovely Alps will refresh my eyes with images of God’s creation, and I shall soon bid farewell to these disgusting scenes of artificial life.