That any did.
Winter's Tale.
As we are not shackled by those inconvenient unities which fetter the discursive propensities of the dramatist, binding him to time and place, we have been permitted to take a ramble or a doze as our inclinations prompted, and re-assemble at Henbury, after an interval of some years.
On our return, we are naturally struck with the changes which such a lapse has effected. Many alterations have taken place amongst our old friends in the Hartland family since our last domestication amongst them. On our return we found, it is true, the same dramatis personæ; but the aspect of things was changed. The master of the mansion was the first to appear as we approached his dwelling; and though men of his temperament are remarkable for wearing well, the perennial smile which used to illumine his features with the dead-light of a peat-coal fire, was darkened by a cloud, if not of contemplation, certainly of care, which had destroyed the only redeeming expression of a mindless countenance. He was riding over his farm, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, while he went at a snail's pace, and his horse's bridle lay floating on the pummel of the saddle. We next discovered that Mrs. Hartland was not far off, as we heard her speak before we had the pleasure of seeing her, and learned, on inquiry, that we were not mistaken in our recollection of her voice, though it was now employed in scolding, which was a novelty to our ears.
"Ay," said the gardener, with whom we held some conversation before we were enabled to judge for ourselves, "Missess has taken latterly to thrift, and her eye is every where. We say that, like what is remarked of the Bristol men, she sleeps with one eye open, for nothing escapes her. She is all for the lucre of gain. The family is kept as bare as can be, and she sends off the best of every thing to market. Miss Ferret now supplies the whole country round with Henbury pork, and Henbury fowls, and Henbury cheese, vegetables, fruit, and flowers. Nothing will go down that doesn't come from Henbury; and it is lamentable to see a lady scuffling about early and late, in her thick shoes and rug cloak; battling with every body, and grinding people to powder with her tongue; and all this to puff up pride, by heaping up treasure for him who will not have the heart to spend it as he ought. If it wasn't for that angel, Miss Zoé, who keeps the young Squire in check, he would be just as great a skin-flint as his mother."
Accuracy of observation is not to be measured by refinement of phrase; and though this rough sketch was delivered in coarse language, it was a correct delineation. Mr. Hartland's strictness of economy had grown out of circumstances, the chief amongst which was a decline in the health of Lady Marchdale. Should she die, there was danger that Lord Marchdale would marry again, and thus the remotest chance might be cut off of Algernon's succession to the title and estates of his noble relative. As matters stood, though hope fluttered her golden pinion, and sometimes dazzled the mother's eye, expectation could not be said to live in her breast, for she knew that Lord Marchdale had levied fines, and could alienate his property if he pleased; but he was fond of his name, and her son bore not only that of the family, but the Earl's Christian name in addition; besides, the relation of godfather was something, and the best look-out of all was, that a nobleman so situated might delay making his will; in which case, were he to die intestate, Algernon was next heir after his own father. These were strong points, but not sufficient ground to rest upon, and therefore Mrs. Hartland prudently resolved to act as if the hedge-rows of Henbury formed the extremest horizon of her view. Having taken the lead in her son's education for several years, and perhaps believing that he was quite faultless, she gradually relaxed the severity of her studies, and, ranging the ponderous volumes over which she had pored during many a day upon the shelf, she devoted herself to active concerns, and became so expert in buying and selling, farming and feeding, that every year found a new deposit in the hands of Mr. Fairly, the stock-broker.
"My dear," said Mrs. Hartland to her husband, "we must not depend on accidents. Our duty is to lay up for our child. If he comes to the family title and fortune, well and good; no harm is done, and a nest-egg in the funds is never amiss. If, on the other hand, we are disappointed, Algernon may still hold up his head amongst our neighbours, if we scrape together our pence, and live as we ought to do."
Mr. Hartland nodded assent, and the screwing system commenced, not, however, without a keen eye to appearances, which were to be observed so as to maintain a show of gentility suited to prospective contingencies. The warm, broad, laughing fire was exchanged for the sullen brasier or the sulphurous stove; and though Mr. Playfair more than once reminded Mrs. Hartland of the anecdote of Alexander and Diogenes, she contrived to exclude the brightness of the sun, along with the caloric of his beams, from affording compensation for the deficiency of coals, by blocking up half the windows in the house, to avoid the tax upon daylight. The form of two courses certainly graced the table; but in the first, the smoking joint had given way to scraps and messes dished up nobody knew how, or from what material, while never-ending Jerusalem artichokes, skerrets, and celery, played an unfailing part in furnishing the second. We were assured that Mrs. Hartland's parsimony had even descended to mixing the wines with water, before they were put down after dinner.
But where were the young people, and how had time dealt with them? The old lord of the scythe and hour-glass had performed the promise which, during their infancy, he made to each. Algernon, who had reached his nineteenth year, was strikingly handsome. Nearly six feet in height, he had nothing of the awkwardness which usually marks that age; but presented the appearance of full-grown five-and-twenty. Algernon was, however, still the same indolent and selfish being of our former acquaintance. He had imbibed just enough of knowledge and acquirement to shew how much more he might have attained, and possessed abilities capable of far higher cultivation than he could be prevailed upon to employ; but self was the deity of his worship, and we need say no more of him.
Of Zorilda—what words can be found to convey an adequate idea of her perfections? She had numbered nearly seventeen years, and in face and figure exhibited a model of female loveliness. The exquisite beauty of her form, the natural grace of every movement, and the penetrating sensibility of her countenance, would have rivetted all beholders, even though her features had wanted that symmetry which is requisite to charm the artist's eye; but Zorilda might have defied the painter's skill to find a fault in the proportions of her face, and that face bespoke the soul which dwelt within, and was worthy of such a casket to contain such a gem. Never did imagination create a more delightful fiction than was realized in the person of the youthful Spaniard. Was it wonderful, then, that all who looked upon her, saw and loved?