Mrs Darnley was the best-tempered woman in the world; not very remarkable for anything else than for her good-humour, which was imperturbable and imperishable, and for the remains of great personal beauty, or rather prettiness. Their family consisted of one son, of whom we have already spoken, and of three daughters, who were educated by Mr Darnley himself, and therefore were more distinguished by the depth of their learning than the extent of their accomplishments. Happy was it for them, and happy for their father, that they possessed minds capable of doing justice to a literary education. They were not pedants nor prigs. To Penelope Primrose they were invaluable friends, and one or other of them was an almost unceasing companion to her. The name of the eldest was Anne; of the second, Mary; and of the third, Martha. Mary was most distinguished for talent, Martha for imagination, and Anne for good humour and practical good sense. If there were any difference in the degree in which the young ladies were devoted to literary pursuits, perhaps the eldest was the least zealous. It does indeed not unfrequently happen, that increasing years abate the fervour of literary pursuits, from shewing us the vanity of mental labour, and teaching us how little we can learn, and how limited must be our knowledge even in its utmost possible range. We do not, however, design to insinuate that Miss Darnley was far advanced in years, or that her knowledge had reached, or even closely approached, the practical limits of mortal acquirement. We are merely making the best apology we can for the young lady’s but moderate thirst for literary distinction.
There was one however of Mrs Greendale’s party against whom no charge of indifference to literature or science could be justly brought. It was Peter Kipperson, Esq. This gentleman, though in middle life, had not abated aught of his zeal for learning. He was a man of very great intellectual ambition. His views were not confined to any one branch of literature, or directed exclusively to any one science. As an agriculturist he certainly took the lead in his county; and being, as it was currently reported, “a capital scholar,” he was the composer or compiler of all resolutions and petitions touching the interest of corn-growers. His opinion was asked, and his expressions quoted as authority on all matters connected with land, or stock, or grain. If any ingenious mechanic had constructed or invented any new machine, the invention was worth nothing till it had the sanction and patronage of Mr Kipperson. But he was not a mere farmer: he was also a man of letters. He had one of the largest libraries in the neighbourhood; besides which he was a subscriber to a public library in the metropolis, from whence he had all the new publications as soon as they came out. He had read far more than Mr Darnley or Dr Greendale: the former of whom he called a high priest, and the latter a mere pedant. On the great men of the two villages, Lord Smatterton of Smatterton, and Sir George Aimwell of Neverden, he looked down with great contempt as very ignorant men; and though Lord Spoonbill had been at Cambridge, Mr Kipperson was quite sure, from the obsolete constitution of the universities, that nothing could be taught there that was worth knowing. He therefore thought Lord Spoonbill a very superficial and ignorant man. To the pursuits of literature Peter Kipperson added a profound love of science. The plain farmers, when they called upon this genius, were astonished at the very knowing aspect which his library wore; seeing, that besides the numerous volumes of elegantly bound books, which were ranged on shelves surmounted with busts of Milton, Shakspeare, Cicero, &c. &c., there were globes, maps, electrical machines, telescopes, air-pumps, casts of skulls, chemical apparatus, and countless models of machines of every description, from steam-engines down to mole-traps. The glories of Peter are yet untold. Wearied as our readers may be with the monotony of panegyric, they must, if they continue to be our readers, undergo yet more, and be told, that Mr Kipperson was a great judge of music. He could play on the flute and on the pianoforte; but he thought nothing of his performance compared with his judgment. He had once at the opera witnessed the performance of Don Giovanni, and from that moment became a critic. Furthermore, Peter was a perfect gentleman, and, to crown all, a man of patriotic principles;—though it has been whispered that his politics were conveniently adapted to those of the Earl of Smatterton and Sir George Aimwell. It does sometimes happen, as some of our readers may know, that in some parts of Great Britain the little gentry copy the politics of the great gentry or nobility of their neighbourhood. Mr Kipperson, with all those amiable and estimable qualities, was a single man. He consoled himself, however, with the reflection that Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton were unmarried.
The above-named, with divers others, formed Mrs Greendale’s party; and when they were assembled, the worthy lady found herself perplexed and puzzled by the grandeur of her guests. There were three persons present to whom she would fain have given, if it were possible, her undivided attention. Lord Spoonbill was one of the three. His lordship, however, did not seem disposed to draw very liberally on the attention of the lady of the house; for, as soon as he entered the rectory drawing-room, he lounged up to Mrs Greendale, whom he honored with a nod, turned round to the Doctor, whom he recognised with a smile, said to the Colonel, “How do ye do, Crop?” and then thew himself almost at full length upon a sofa, as if those to whom he had addressed himself were vanished, and as if there were no one else in the room. By degrees, however, he condescended to recognise one, or two, or more of the party. Of Mr Kipperson he asked the price of wheat, and Mr Kipperson asked what his lordship thought of Mozart’s opera of Don Giovanni. His lordship admired it prodigiously, but he condescended to say very little on the subject; whether it was that he had but little to say, or whether he thought that such an universal genius as Mr Kipperson could not receive any new light from a Cambridge man. The great agriculturist, finding that his lordship was not eloquent on the subject of music, assailed him again on the subject of Don Juan, as versified by Lord Byron, and his lordship being rather weary of the company and questions of Mr Kipperson, stared him full in the face, and with an affected smile, said:
“’Pon honour, Mr—Mr—I—I am not a reading man.”
Mr Kipperson thought his lordship somewhat rude, and perhaps might have been disposed to challenge him, only he feared that he might be disappointed, and hear his lordship exclaim,
“’Pon honour, Mr—Mr—I—I am not a fighting man.”
Lest by any perverseness of apprehension the interrogator of his lordship might be induced to proceed in his unwelcome familiarities of approach, the heir of Smatterton rose from the sofa and took his station at the pianoforte, where Miss Primrose had been with much persuasion vainly endeavouring to place Miss Martha Darnley. Now Lord Spoonbill did not like to hear Miss Martha Darnley so well as he liked to hear Miss Primrose; and the three reasons which determined him are such as for their soundness must approve themselves to all our readers. In the first place, the politics of Mr Darnley were opposed to the politics of Smatterton castle; in the second place, Miss Martha Darnley was not so pretty as Miss Primrose; and in the third place, Miss Primrose was by far the best performer of the two.
It was a great relief therefore to his lordship that Miss Primrose was absolutely compelled to take her place at the instrument, and it was a great pleasure to him to see that when the leaves of Mozart’s Don Giovanni were turned over there was a pause when the young lady came to the duet of “La ci darem.”
“That is a beautiful duet, Miss Primrose,” said his lordship.
“Will your Lordship take a part in it?” replied Miss Primrose.