weather: about the war and the downfall of the monster
Bonaparte: and above all, about doctors, quacks, and the
particular merits of Dr. Podgers, whom she then
patronised.
During their interview Pitt Crawley made a great
stroke, and one which showed that, had his diplomatic
career not been blighted by early neglect, he might have
risen to a high rank in his profession. When the Countess
Dowager of Southdown fell foul of the Corsican upstart,
as the fashion was in those days, and showed that he was
a monster stained with every conceivable crime, a coward
and a tyrant not fit to live, one whose fall was predicted,
&c., Pitt Crawley suddenly took up the cudgels in favour
of the man of Destiny. He described the First Consul as
he saw him at Paris at the peace of Amiens; when he, Pitt
Crawley, had the gratification of making the acquaintance
of the great and good Mr. Fox, a statesman whom,
however much he might differ with him, it was impossible not
to admire fervently--a statesman who had always had
the highest opinion of the Emperor Napoleon. And he
spoke in terms of the strongest indignation of the faithless
conduct of the allies towards this dethroned monarch,
who, after giving himself generously up to their mercy,
was consigned to an ignoble and cruel banishment, while
a bigoted Popish rabble was tyrannising over France in
his stead.
This orthodox horror of Romish superstition saved
Pitt Crawley in Lady Southdown's opinion, whilst his
admiration for Fox and Napoleon raised him immeasurably
in Miss Crawley's eyes. Her friendship with that
defunct British statesman was mentioned when we first
introduced her in this history. A true Whig, Miss Crawley
had been in opposition all through the war, and though, to
be sure, the downfall of the Emperor did not very much
agitate the old lady, or his ill-treatment tend to shorten
her life or natural rest, yet Pitt spoke to her heart when
he lauded both her idols; and by that single speech made
immense progress in her favour.
"And what do you think, my dear?" Miss Crawley said
to the young lady, for whom she had taken a liking at
first sight, as she always did for pretty and modest young
people; though it must be owned her affections cooled as
rapidly as they rose.
Lady Jane blushed very much, and said "that she did
not understand politics, which she left to wiser heads
than hers; but though Mamma was, no doubt, correct,
Mr. Crawley had spoken beautifully." And when the ladies
were retiring at the conclusion of their visit, Miss Crawley
hoped "Lady Southdown would be so kind as to send
her Lady Jane sometimes, if she could be spared to come
down and console a poor sick lonely old woman." This
promise was graciously accorded, and they separated
upon great terms of amity.
"Don't let Lady Southdown come again, Pitt," said the
old lady. "She is stupid and pompous, like all your mother's
family, whom I never could endure. But bring that nice
good-natured little Jane as often as ever you please." Pitt
promised that he would do so. He did not tell the Countess
of Southdown what opinion his aunt had formed of
her Ladyship, who, on the contrary, thought that she had
made a most delightful and majestic impression on Miss
Crawley.
And so, nothing loth to comfort a sick lady, and
perhaps not sorry in her heart to be freed now and again
from the dreary spouting of the Reverend Bartholomew
Irons, and the serious toadies who gathered round the
footstool of the pompous Countess, her mamma, Lady
Jane became a pretty constant visitor to Miss Crawley,
accompanied her in her drives, and solaced many of her
evenings. She was so naturally good and soft, that even
Firkin was not jealous of her; and the gentle Briggs
thought her friend was less cruel to her when kind Lady
Jane was by. Towards her Ladyship Miss Crawley's
manners were charming. The old spinster told her a thousand
anecdotes about her youth, talking to her in a very
different strain from that in which she had been accustomed
to converse with the godless little Rebecca; for there was
that in Lady Jane's innocence which rendered light talking
impertinence before her, and Miss Crawley was too
much of a gentlewoman to offend such purity. The young
lady herself had never received kindness except from this
old spinster, and her brother and father: and she repaid
Miss Crawley's engoument by artless sweetness and
friendship.
In the autumn evenings (when Rebecca was flaunting
at Paris, the gayest among the gay conquerors there, and
our Amelia, our dear wounded Amelia, ah! where was
she?) Lady Jane would be sitting in Miss Crawley's
drawing-room singing sweetly to her, in the twilight, her
little simple songs and hymns, while the sun was setting
and the sea was roaring on the beach. The old spinster
used to wake up when these ditties ceased, and ask for
more. As for Briggs, and the quantity of tears of happiness
which she now shed as she pretended to knit, and
looked out at the splendid ocean darkling before the
windows, and the lamps of heaven beginning more brightly to
shine--who, I say can measure the happiness and
sensibility of Briggs?
Pitt meanwhile in the dining-room, with a pamphlet on
the Corn Laws or a Missionary Register by his side, took
that kind of recreation which suits romantic and unromantic
men after dinner. He sipped Madeira: built castles
in the air: thought himself a fine fellow: felt himself much
more in love with Jane than he had been any time these
seven years, during which their liaison had lasted without
the slightest impatience on Pitt's part--and slept a good
deal. When the time for coffee came, Mr. Bowls used to
enter in a noisy manner, and summon Squire Pitt, who
would be found in the dark very busy with his pamphlet.
"I wish, my love, I could get somebody to play piquet
with me," Miss Crawley said one night when this functionary
made his appearance with the candles and the coffee.
"Poor Briggs can no more play than an owl, she is so
stupid" (the spinster always took an opportunity of abusing
Briggs before the servants); "and I think I should
sleep better if I had my game."
At this Lady Jane blushed to the tips of her little ears,
and down to the ends of her pretty fingers; and when Mr.
Bowls had quitted the room, and the door was quite shut,
she said:
"Miss Crawley, I can play a little. I used to--to play
a little with poor dear papa."
"Come and kiss me. Come and kiss me this instant,
you dear good little soul," cried Miss Crawley in an ecstasy:
and in this picturesque and friendly occupation Mr. Pitt
found the old lady and the young one, when he came
upstairs with him pamphlet in his hand. How she did blush
all the evening, that poor Lady Jane!
It must not be imagined that Mr. Pitt Crawley's artifices
escaped the attention of his dear relations at the
Rectory at Queen's Crawley. Hampshire and Sussex lie
very close together, and Mrs. Bute had friends in the
latter county who took care to inform her of all, and a great
deal more than all, that passed at Miss Crawley's house
at Brighton. Pitt was there more and more. He did not
come for months together to the Hall, where his abominable
old father abandoned himself completely to rum-
and-water, and the odious society of the Horrocks family.
Pitt's success rendered the Rector's family furious, and
Mrs. Bute regretted more (though she confessed less)
than ever her monstrous fault in so insulting Miss Briggs,
and in being so haughty and parsimonious to Bowls and
Firkin, that she had not a single person left in Miss
Crawley's household to give her information of what took place
there. "It was all Bute's collar-bone," she persisted in
saying; "if that had not broke, I never would have left her. I
am a martyr to duty and to your odious unclerical habit
of hunting, Bute."
"Hunting; nonsense! It was you that frightened her,
Barbara," the divine interposed. "You're a clever woman,
but you've got a devil of a temper; and you're a screw
with your money, Barbara."
"You'd have been screwed in gaol, Bute, if I had not
kept your money."
"I know I would, my dear," said the Rector, good-naturedly.
"You ARE a clever woman, but you manage too
well, you know": and the pious man consoled himself
with a big glass of port.
"What the deuce can she find in that spooney of a Pitt
Crawley?" he continued. "The fellow has not pluck enough
to say Bo to a goose. I remember when Rawdon, who is a
man, and be hanged to him, used to flog him round the
stables as if he was a whipping-top: and Pitt would go
howling home to his ma--ha, ha! Why, either of my boys
would whop him with one hand. Jim says he's
remembered at Oxford as Miss Crawley still--the spooney.
"I say, Barbara," his reverence continued, after a pause.
"What?" said Barbara, who was biting her nails, and
drumming the table.
"I say, why not send Jim over to Brighton to see if he
can do anything with the old lady. He's very near getting
his degree, you know. He's only been plucked twice--so
was I--but he's had the advantages of Oxford and a
university education. He knows some of the best chaps there.
He pulls stroke in the Boniface boat. He's a handsome
feller. D-- it, ma'am, let's put him on the old woman,
hey, and tell him to thrash Pitt if he says anything.
Ha, ha, ha!
"Jim might go down and see her, certainly," the housewife
said; adding with a sigh, "If we could but get one of
the girls into the house; but she could never endure them,
because they are not pretty!" Those unfortunate and
well-educated women made themselves heard from the
neighbouring drawing-room, where they were thrumming
away, with hard fingers, an elaborate music-piece on the
piano-forte, as their mother spoke; and indeed, they were at
music, or at backboard, or at geography, or at history,
the whole day long. But what avail all these accomplishments,
in Vanity Fair, to girls who are short, poor, plain,
and have a bad complexion? Mrs. Bute could think of
nobody but the Curate to take one of them off her hands;
and Jim coming in from the stable at this minute, through
the parlour window, with a short pipe stuck in his
oilskin cap, he and his father fell to talking about odds on
the St. Leger, and the colloquy between the Rector and his
wife ended.
Mrs. Bute did not augur much good to the cause from
the sending of her son James as an ambassador, and saw
him depart in rather a despairing mood. Nor did the
young fellow himself, when told what his mission was to
be, expect much pleasure or benefit from it; but he was
consoled by the thought that possibly the old lady would
give him some handsome remembrance of her, which
would pay a few of his most pressing bills at the
commencement of the ensuing Oxford term, and so took his
place by the coach from Southampton, and was safely
landed at Brighton on the same evening? with his
portmanteau, his favourite bull-dog Towzer, and an
immense basket of farm and garden produce, from the dear
Rectory folks to the dear Miss Crawley. Considering it
was too late to disturb the invalid lady on the first night
of his arrival, he put up at an inn, and did not wait upon
Miss Crawley until a late hour in the noon of next day.
James Crawley, when his aunt had last beheld him, was
a gawky lad, at that uncomfortable age when the voice
varies between an unearthly treble and a preternatural
bass; when the face not uncommonly blooms out with
appearances for which Rowland's Kalydor is said to act as
a cure; when boys are seen to shave furtively with their
sister's scissors, and the sight of other young women
produces intolerable sensations of terror in them; when the
great hands and ankles protrude a long way from
garments which have grown too tight for them; when their
presence after dinner is at once frightful to the ladies, who
are whispering in the twilight in the drawing-room, and
inexpressibly odious to the gentlemen over the mahogany,
who are restrained from freedom of intercourse and
delightful interchange of wit by the presence of that gawky
innocence; when, at the conclusion of the second glass,
papa says, "Jack, my boy, go out and see if the evening
holds up," and the youth, willing to be free, yet hurt at
not being yet a man, quits the incomplete banquet. James,
then a hobbadehoy, was now become a young man,
having had the benefits of a university education, and
acquired the inestimable polish which is gained by living in a
fast set at a small college, and contracting debts, and
being rusticated, and being plucked.
He was a handsome lad, however, when he came to
present himself to his aunt at Brighton, and good looks
were always a title to the fickle old lady's favour. Nor did
his blushes and awkwardness take away from it: she
was pleased with these healthy tokens of the young
gentleman's ingenuousness.
He said "he had come down for a couple of days to see
a man of his college, and--and to pay my respects to you,
Ma'am, and my father's and mother's, who hope you are
well."
Pitt was in the room with Miss Crawley when the lad
was announced, and looked very blank when his name
was mentioned. The old lady had plenty of humour, and
enjoyed her correct nephew's perplexity. She asked after
all the people at the Rectory with great interest; and said
she was thinking of paying them a visit. She praised the
lad to his face, and said he was well-grown and very much
improved, and that it was a pity his sisters had not some
of his good looks; and finding, on inquiry, that he had
