Chapter 9
However, Master Mash’s courage began to rise as he went home, and found himself farther from his formidable farmer; for he assured his companions, “that, if he had not been so vulgar a fellow, he would certainly call him out and pistol him.”
The next day at dinner Mr Merton and the ladies, who had not accompanied the young gentlemen to the play, nor had yet heard of the misfortune which had ensued, were very inquisitive about the preceding night’s entertainment. The young people agreed that the performers were detestable, but that the play was a charming piece, full of wit and sentiment, and extremely improving. This play was called The Marriage of Figaro, and Master Compton had informed them that it was amazingly admired by all the people of fashion in London.
But Mr Merton, who had observed that Harry was totally silent, at length insisted upon knowing his opinion upon the subject, “Why, sir,” answered Harry, “I am very little judge of these matters, for I never saw a play before in my life, and therefore I cannot tell whether it was acted well or ill; but as to the play itself, it seemed to me to be full of nothing but cheating and dissimulation; and the people that come in and out do nothing but impose upon each other, and lie, and trick, and deceive. Were you or any gentlemen to have such a parcel of servants, you would think them fit for nothing in the world; and therefore I could not help wondering, while the play was acting, that people would throw away so much of their time upon sights that can do them no good, and send their children and their relations to learn fraud and insincerity.” Mr Merton smiled at the honest bluntness of Harry; but several of the ladies, who had just been expressing an extravagant admiration of this piece, seemed to be not a little mortified; however, as they could not contradict the charges which Harry had brought against it, they thought it most prudent to be silent.
In the evening it was proposed that all the little gentry should divert themselves with cards, and they accordingly sat down to a game which is called Commerce. But Harry, who was totally ignorant of this accomplishment, desired to be excused; however, his friend Miss Simmons offered to teach him the game, which, she assured him, was so easy, that in three minutes he would be able to play as well as the rest. Harry, however, still continued to refuse; and at last confessed to Miss Simmons, that he had expended all his money the day before, and therefore was unable to furnish the stake which the rest deposited. “Don’t let that disturb you,” said she; “I will put down for you with a great deal of pleasure.” “Madam,” answered Harry, “I am very much obliged to you, I am sure; but Mr Barlow has always forbidden me either to receive or borrow money of anybody, for fear, in the one case, I should become mercenary, or in the other, dishonest; and therefore, though there is nobody here whom I esteem more than yourself, I am obliged to refuse your offer.” “Well,” replied Miss Simmons, “that need not disturb you; for you shall play upon my account, and that you may do without any violation of your principles.”
Thus was Harry, though with some reluctance, induced to sit down to cards with the rest. The game, indeed, he found no difficulty in learning; but he could not help remarking, with wonder, the extreme solicitude which appeared in the face of all the players at every change of fortune. Even the young ladies, all but Miss Simmons, seemed to be equally sensible of the passion of gaining money with the rest; and some of them behaved with a degree of asperity which quite astonished him. After several changes of fortune, it happened that Miss Simmons and Harry were the only remaining players; all the rest, by the laws of the game, had forfeited all pretensions to the stake, the property of which was clearly vested in these two, and one more deal was wanting to decide it. But Harry, with great politeness, rose from the table, and told Miss Simmons, that, as he only played upon her account, he was no longer wanted, and that the whole undoubtedly belonged to her. Miss Simmons refused to take it; and when she found that Harry was not to be induced to play any more, she at last proposed to him to divide what was left. This also Harry declined, alleging that he had not the least title to any part. But Miss Simmons, who began to be uneasy at the remarks which this extraordinary contest occasioned, told Harry that he would oblige her by taking his share of the money, and laying it out in any manner for her that he judged best. “On this condition,” answered Harry, “I will take it; and I think I know a method of laying it out, which you will not entirely disapprove.”
The next day, as soon as breakfast was over, Harry disappeared; nor did he come back when the company were assembled at dinner. At length he came in, with a glow of health and exercise upon his face, and that disorder of dress which is produced by a long journey. The young ladies eyed him with great contempt, which seemed a little to disconcert him; but Mr Merton speaking to him with great good humour, and making room for him to sit down, Harry soon recovered from his confusion.
In the evening, after a long conversation among the young people, about public diversions and plays, and actors, and dancers, they happened to mention the name of a celebrated performer, who at this time engaged the whole attention of the town. Master Compton, after expatiating with great enthusiasm upon the subject, added, “that nothing was so fashionable as to make great presents to this person, in order to show the taste and elegance of the giver.” He then proposed that, as so many young gentlemen and ladies were here assembled, they should set an example, which would do them infinite honour, and probably be followed throughout the kingdom, of making a little collection among themselves to buy a piece of plate, or a gold snuff-box, or some other trifle, to be presented in their name. He added, “that though he could ill-spare the money (having just laid out six guineas upon a new pair of buckles), he would contribute a guinea to so excellent a purpose, and that Masters Mash and Merton would do the same.”
This proposal was universally approved of by all the company, and all but Harry promised to contribute in proportion to their finances. This Master Mash observing, said, “Well, farmer, and what will you subscribe?” Harry answered, “that on this occasion he must beg to be excused, for he had nothing to give.” “Here is a pretty fellow!” answered Mash; “last night we saw him pocket thirty shillings of our money, which he cheated us out of at Commerce, and now the little stingy wretch will not contribute half-a-crown, while we are giving away whole guineas.” Upon this Miss Matilda said, in an ironical manner, “that Master Harry had always an excellent reason to give for his conduct; and she did not doubt but he could prove to the satisfaction of them all, that it was more liberal to keep his money in his pocket than to give it away.”
Harry, who was a little nettled at these reflections, answered, “that though he was not bound to give any reason, he thought he had a very good one to give; and that was, that he saw no generosity in thus bestowing money. According to your own account,” added he, “the person you have been talking of gains more than fifty poor families in the country have to maintain themselves; and therefore, if I had any money to give away, I should certainly give it to those that want it most.”
With these words Harry went out of the room, and the rest of the gentry, after abusing him very liberally, sat down to cards. But Miss Simmons, who imagined that there was more in Harry’s conduct than he had explained, excused herself from cards, and took an opportunity of talking to him upon the subject. After speaking to him with great good-nature, she asked him, whether it might not have been better to have contributed something along with the rest, than to have offended them by so free an exposition of his sentiments, even though he did not approve of the scheme. “Indeed, madam,” said Harry, “this is what I would gladly have done, but it was totally out of my power.” “How can that be, Harry? did you not the other night win nearly thirty shillings?” “That, madam, all belonged to you; and I have already disposed of it in your name, in a manner that I hope you will not disapprove.” “How is that?” inquired the young lady with some surprise. “Madam,” said Harry, “there was a young woman who lived with my father as a servant, and always behaved with the greatest honesty and carefulness. This young woman had an aged father and mother, who for a great while were able to maintain themselves by their labour; but at last the poor old man became too weak to do a day’s work, and his wife was afflicted with a disease they call the palsy. Now, when this good young woman saw that her parents were in such great distress, she left her place and went to live with them, on purpose to take care of them; and she works very hard, whenever she can get work, and fares very hard in order to maintain her parents; and though we assist them all we can, I know that sometimes they can hardly get food and clothes; therefore, madam, as you were so kind to say I should dispose of this money for you, I ran over this morning to these poor people, and gave them all the money in your name, and I hope you will not be displeased at the use I have put it to.” “Indeed,” answered the young lady, “I am much obliged to you for the good opinion you have of me, and the application of it does me a great deal of honour; I am only sorry you did not give it in your own name.” “That,” replied Harry, “I had not any right to do; it would have been attributing to myself what did not belong to me, and equally inconsistent with truth and honesty.”
In this manner did the time pass away at Mr Merton’s; while Harry received very little satisfaction from his visit, except in conversing with Miss Simmons. The affability and good sense of this young lady had entirely gained his confidence; while all the other young ladies were continually intent upon displaying their talents and importance, she alone was simple and unaffected. But what disgusted Harry more than ever was, that his refined companions seemed to consider themselves, and a few of their acquaintance, as the only beings of any consequence in the world. The most trifling inconvenience, the being a little too hot, a little too cold, the walking a few hundred yards, the waiting a few minutes for their dinner, the having a trifling cold, or a little headache, were misfortunes so feelingly lamented, that he would have imagined they were the most tender of the human species, had he not observed that they considered the sufferings of all below them with a profound indifference. If the misfortunes of the poor were mentioned, he heard of nothing but the insolence and ingratitude of that class of people, which seemed to be a sufficient excuse for the want of common humanity. “Surely,” said Harry to himself, “there cannot be so much difference between one human being and another; or if there is, I should think that part of them the most valuable who cultivate the ground, and provide necessaries for all the rest; not those who understand nothing but dress, walking with their toes out, staring modest people out of countenance, and jabbering a few words of a foreign language.”
But now the attention of all the younger part of the company was fixed upon making preparations for a ball, which Mrs Merton had determined to give in honour of Master Tommy’s return. The whole house was now full of milliners, mantua-makers, and dancing-masters; and all the young ladies were employed in giving directions about their clothes, or in practising the steps of different dances. Harry now, for the first time, began to comprehend the infinite importance of dress—even the elderly ladies seemed to be as much interested about the affair as their daughters; and, instead of the lessons of conduct and wisdom which he expected to hear, nothing seemed to employ their attention a moment but French trimmings, gauzes, and Italian flowers. Miss Simmons alone appeared to consider the approaching solemnity with perfect indifference. Harry had never heard a single word drop from her that expressed either interest or impatience; but he had for some days observed her employed in her room with more than common assiduity. At length, on the very day that was destined for this important exhibition, she came to him with a benevolent smile, and spoke to him thus: “I was so much pleased with the account you gave me the other day of that poor young woman’s duty and affection towards her parents, that I have for some time employed myself in preparing for them a little present, which I shall be obliged to you, Master Harry, to convey to them. I have, unfortunately, never learned either to embroider or to paint artificial flowers, but my good uncle has taught me that the best employment I can make of my hands is to assist those who cannot assist themselves.” Saying this, she put into his hands a parcel that contained some linen and other necessaries for the poor old people, and bade him tell them not to forget to call upon her uncle when she was returned home, as he was always happy to assist the deserving and industrious poor. Harry received her present with gratitude, and almost with tears of joy; and, looking up in her face, imagined that he saw the features of one of those angels which he had read of in the Scriptures; so much does real disinterested benevolence improve the expression of the human countenance.
But all the rest of the young gentry were employed in cares of a very different nature—the dressing their hair and adorning their persons. Tommy himself had now completely resumed his natural character, and thrown aside all that he had learned during his residence with Mr Barlow; he had contracted an infinite fondness for all those scenes of dissipation which his new friends daily described to him, and began to be convinced that one of the most important things in life is a fashionable dress. In this most rational sentiment he had been confirmed by almost all the ladies with whom he had conversed since his return home. The distinctions of character, relative to virtue and understanding, which had been with so much pains inculcated upon his mind, seemed here to be entirely unheeded. No one took the trouble of examining the real principles or motives from which any human being acted, while the most minute attention was continually given to what regarded merely the outside. He observed that the omission of every duty towards our fellow-creatures was not only excused, but even to a certain degree admired, provided it was joined with a certain fashionable appearance; while the most perfect probity or integrity was mentioned with coldness or disgust, and frequently with open ridicule if unconnected with a brilliant appearance. As to all the common virtues of life—such as industry, economy, a punctuality in discharging our obligations or keeping our word—these were qualities which were treated as fit for none but the vulgar. Mr Barlow, he found, had been utterly mistaken in all the principles which he had ever inculcated. “The human species,” Mr Barlow used to say, “can only be supplied with food and necessaries by a constant assiduity in cultivating the earth and providing for their mutual wants. It is by labour that everything is produced; without labour, these fertile fields, which are now adorned with all the luxuriance of plenty, would be converted into barren heaths, or impenetrable thickets; these meadows, now the support of a thousand herds of cattle, would be covered with stagnated waters, that would not only render them uninhabitable by beasts, but corrupt the air with pestilential vapours; and even these innumerable flocks of sheep that feed along the hills, would disappear immediately on the cessation of that cultivation, which can alone support them, and secure their existence.”
But, however true might be these principles, they were so totally inconsistent with the conduct and opinion of Tommy’s new friends, that it was not possible for him long to remember their force. He had been nearly a month with a few young ladies and gentlemen of his own rank, and instead of their being brought up to produce anything useful, he found that the great object of all their knowledge and education was only to waste, to consume, to destroy, to dissipate what was produced by others; he even found that this inability to assist either themselves or others seemed to be a merit upon which every one valued himself extremely; so that an individual, who could not exist without having two attendants to wait upon him, was superior to him that had only one, but was obliged in turn to yield to another who required four. And, indeed, this new system seemed much more easy than the old one; for, instead of giving himself any trouble about his manners or understanding, he might with safety indulge all his caprices, give way to all his passions, be humoursome, haughty, unjust, and selfish to the extreme. He might be ungrateful to his friends, disobedient to his parents, a glutton, an ignorant blockhead, in short, everything which to plain sense appears most frivolous or contemptible, without incurring the least imputation, provided his hair hung fashionably about his ears, his buckles were sufficiently large, and his politeness to the ladies unimpeached.
Once, indeed, Harry had thrown him into a disagreeable train of thinking, by asking him, with great simplicity, what sort of a figure these young gentlemen would have made in the army of Leonidas, or these young ladies upon a desert island, where they would be obliged to shift for themselves. But Tommy had lately learned that nothing spoils the face more than intense reflection; and therefore, as he could not easily resolve the question, he wisely determined to forget it.
And now the important evening of the ball approached; the largest room in the house was lighted up for the dancers, and all the little company assembled. Tommy was that day dressed in an unusual style of elegance, and had submitted, without murmuring, to be under the hands of a hair-dresser for two hours! But what gave him the greatest satisfaction of all, was an immense pair of new buckles which Mrs Merton had sent for on purpose to grace the person of her son.
Several minuets were first danced, to the great admiration of the company; and, among the rest, Tommy, who had been practising ever since he had been at home, had the honour of exhibiting with Miss Matilda. He indeed began with a certain degree of diffidence, but was soon inspired with a proper degree of confidence by the applauses which resounded on every side. “What an elegant little creature!” cried one lady. “What a shape is there!” said a second; “I protest he puts me in mind of Vestris himself.” “Indeed,” said a third, “Mrs Merton is a most happy mother to be possessed of such a son, who wants nothing but an introduction to the world, to be one of the most elegant creatures in England, and the most accomplished.”
As soon as Tommy had finished his dance, he led his partner to a seat with a grace that surprised all the company anew, and then, with the sweetest condescension imaginable, he went from one lady to another, to receive the praises which they liberally poured out, as if it was the greatest action in the world to draw one foot behind another, and to walk on tiptoe.
Harry, in the mean time, had shrouded himself in the most obscure part of the room, and was silently gazing upon the scene that passed. He knew that his company would give no pleasure among the elegant figures that engrossed the foremost seats, and felt not the least inclination for such an honour. In this situation he was observed by Master Compton, who, at the same instant, formed a scheme of mortifying Miss Simmons, whom he did not like, and of exposing Harry to the general ridicule. He therefore proposed it to Mash, who had partly officiated as master of the ceremonies, and who, with all the readiness of officious malice, agreed to assist him; Master Mash therefore, went up to Miss Simmons, and, with all the solemnity of respect, invited her out to dance, which she, although indifferent about the matter, accepted without hesitation. In the meantime, Master Compton went up to Harry with the same hypocritical civility, and in Miss Simmons’ name invited him to dance a minuet. It was in vain that Harry assured him he knew nothing about the matter; his perfidious friend told him that it was an indispensable duty for him to stand up; that Miss Simmons would never forgive him if he should refuse; that it would be sufficient if he could just describe the figure, without embarrassing himself about the steps. In the mean time, he pointed out Miss Simmons, who was advancing towards the upper end of the room, and, taking advantage of his confusion and embarrassment, led him forward, and placed him by the young lady’s side. Harry was not yet acquainted with the sublime science of imposing upon unwary simplicity, and therefore never doubted that the message had come from his friend; and as nothing could be more repugnant to his character than the want of compliance, he thought it necessary at least to go and expostulate with her upon the subject. This was his intention when he suffered himself to be led up the room; but his tormentors did not give him time, for they placed him by the side of the young lady, and instantly called to the music to begin. Miss Simmons, in her turn, was equally surprised at the partner which was provided for her; she had never imagined minuet dancing to be one of Harry’s accomplishments, and therefore instantly suspected that it was a concerted scheme to mortify her. However, in this she was determined they should be disappointed, as she was destitute of all pride, and had the sincerest regard for Harry. As soon, therefore, as the music struck up, the young lady began her reverence, which Harry, who found he was now completely caught, and had no time for explanation, imitated as well as he was able, but in such a manner as set the whole room in a titter. Harry, however, arming himself with all the fortitude he possessed, performed his part as well as could be expected from a person that had never learned a single step of dancing. By keeping his eye fixed upon his partner, he made a shift at least to preserve something of the figure, although he was terribly deficient in the steps and graces of the dance. But his partner, who was scarcely less embarrassed than himself, and wished to shorten the exhibition, after crossing once, presented him with her hand. Harry had unfortunately not remarked the nature of this manœuvre with perfect accuracy, and therefore, imagining that one hand was just as good as the other, he offered the young lady his left instead of his right hand. At this incident a universal peal of merriment, which they no longer laboured to conceal, burst from almost all the company, and Miss Simmons, wishing at any rate to close the scene, presented her partner with both her hands, and abruptly finished the dance. The unfortunate couple then retreated to the lower end of the room, amidst the jests and sneers of their companions, particularly Mash and Compton, who assumed unusual importance upon the credit of such a brilliant invention.
When they were seated, Miss Simmons could not help asking Harry, with some displeasure, why he had thus exposed himself and her, by attempting what he was totally ignorant of, and added, “that, though there was no disgrace in not being able to dance, it was very great folly to attempt it without having learned a single step.” “Indeed, madam,” answered Harry, “I never should have thought of trying to do what I knew I was totally ignorant of; but Master Compton came to me, and told me that you particularly desired me to dance with you, and led me to the other end of the room; and I only came to speak to you, and to inform you that I knew nothing about the matter, for fear you should think me uncivil; and then the music began to play, and you to dance, so that I had no opportunity of speaking; and I thought it better to do the best I could than to stand still, or leave you there.” Miss Simmons instantly recovered her former good-humour, and said, “Well, Harry, we are not the first, nor shall be the last by hundreds, who have made a ridiculous figure in a ball-room, without so good an excuse. But I am sorry to see so malicious a disposition in these young gentlemen, and that all their knowledge of polite life has not taught them a little better manners.”
“Why madam,” answered Harry, “since you are so good as to talk to me upon the subject, I must confess that I have been very much surprised at many things I have seen at Mr Merton’s. All these young gentlemen and ladies are continually talking about genteel life and manners, and yet they are frequently doing things which surprise me. Mr Barlow has always told me that politeness consisted in a disposition to oblige everybody around us, and to say or do nothing which can give them disagreeable impressions. Yet I continually see these young gentlemen striving to do and say things, for no other reason than to give pain; for, not to go any farther than the present instance, what motive can Masters Compton and Mash have had but to mortify you by giving you such a partner? you, madam, too, who are so kind and good to everybody, that I should think it impossible not to love you.”
“Harry,” answered the young lady, “what you say about politeness is perfectly just. I have heard my uncle and many sensible people say the same; but, in order to acquire this species of it, both goodness of heart and a just way of thinking are required; and therefore many people content themselves with aping what they can pick up in the dress, or gestures, or cant expressions of the higher classes; just like the poor ass, which, dressed in the skin of a lion, was taken for the lion himself, till his unfortunate braying exposed the cheat.” “Pray, madam, what is that story?” said Harry.
“It is a trifling one that I have read,” answered Miss Simmons, “of somebody who, having procured a lion’s skin, fastened it round the body of an ass, and then turned him loose, to the great affright of the neighbourhood. Those who saw him first, imagined that a monstrous lion had invaded the country, and fled with precipitation. Even the very cattle caught the panic and were scattered by hundreds over the plains. In the meantime the victorious ass pranced and capered along the fields, and diverted himself with running after the fugitives. But at length, in the gaiety of his heart, he broke into such a discordant braying, as surprised those that were nearest, and expected to hear a very different noise from under the terrible skin. At length a resolute fellow ventured by degrees nearer to this object of their terror, and discovering the cheat that had been practised upon them, divested the poor ass of all his borrowed spoils, and drove him away with his cudgel.”
“This story,” continued Miss Simmons, “is continually coming into my mind, when I see anybody imagine himself of great importance, because he has adopted some particular mode of dress, or the grimaces of those that call themselves fashionable people. Nor do I ever see Master Mash or Compton without thinking of the lion’s skin, and expecting every moment to hear them bray.”
Harry laughed very heartily at this story; but now their attention was called towards the company, who had ranged themselves by pairs for country-dancing. Miss Simmons, who was very fond of this exercise, then asked Harry if he had never practised any of these dances. Harry said, “it had happened to him three or four times at home, and that he believed he should not be puzzled about any of the figures.” “Well, then,” said the young lady, “to show how little I regard their intended mortification, I will stand up and you shall be my partner.” So they rose and placed themselves at the bottom of the whole company according to the laws of dancing, which appoint that place for those who come last.
And now the music began to strike up in a more joyous strain; the little dancers exerted themselves with all their activity, and the exercise diffused a glow of health and cheerfulness over the faces of the most pale and languid. Harry exerted himself here with much better success than he had lately done in the minuet. He had great command over all his limbs, and was very well versed in every play that gives address to the body, so that he found no difficulty in practising all the varied figures of the dances, particularly with the assistance of Miss Simmons, who explained to him everything that appeared embarrassing.
But now, by the continuance of the dance, all who were at first at the upper end had descended to the bottom, where, by the laws of the diversion, they ought to have waited quietly till their companions, becoming in their turn uppermost, had danced down to their former places. But when Miss Simmons and Harry expected to have had their just share of the exercise, they found that almost all their companions had deserted them and retired to their places. Harry could not help wondering at this behaviour; but Miss Simmons told him with a smile, that it was only of a piece with the rest, and she had often remarked it at country assemblies, where all the gentry of a county were gathered together. “This is frequently the way,” added she, “that those who think themselves superior to the rest of the world choose to show their importance.” “This is a very bad way indeed,” replied Harry; “people may choose whether they will dance or practise any particular diversion, but, if they do, they ought to submit to the laws of it without repining; and I have always observed among the little boys whom I am acquainted with, that wherever this disposition prevails, it is the greatest proof of a bad and contemptible temper.” “I am afraid,” replied Miss Simmons, “that your observations will hold universally true, and that those who expect so much for themselves, without being willing to consider their fellow-creatures in turn, in whatever station they are found, are always the most mean, ignorant, and despicable of the species.”
