CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.
Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise! BYRON.
Hypocrisy, the thriving'st calling, The only saint's-bell that rings all in: A gift that is not only able To domineer among the rabble, But by the law's empowered to rout, And awe the greatest that stand out. HUDIBRAS.
"All-pervading essence, whose subtle spirit hath become a part componentof everything this universe contains--power that presidest over nationsand countries, kingdoms and cities, courts and palaces, and every humantenement, even to the lowly cot--leaven of the globe, that workest inthe councils of its princes, in the reasonings of its senates, in theatmosphere of the court, in the traffic of the city, in the smiles ofthe enamoured youth, and in the blush of the responding maid--thou thatclothest with awe the serjeant's coif and the bishop's robe--thou thatassistest at our nurture, our education, and our marriage, our death,our funeral, and habiliments of woe,--all hail!
"Chameleon spirit--at once contributing to the misery of our existenceand adding to its fancied bliss--at once detested and a charm, to beeschewed and to be practised--that, with thy mystic veil, dimmest thebright beauty of virtue, and concealest the dark deformity of vice--imperishable, glorious, and immortal HUMBUG! Hail!
"Thee I invoke--and thus, with talismanic pen, commence my spells,--andcharge thee, in the name of courtiers' bows, of great men's promises, ofbribery oaths, of woman's smiles, and tears of residuary legatees--
"Appear!
"By thy favourite works,--thy darling sinking fund,--the blessings offree-trade,--thy joint-stock companies,--the dread of Popery,--theliberality of East India Directors, and the sincerity of West Indiaphilanthropists--
"Descend!
"By the annual pageants--by the Lord Mayor's show, and reform inparliament--by Burdett's democracy, and the first of April--byexplanations, and calls for papers--by Bartlemy fair, and the minister'sbudget--
"Come!
"By lawyers' consultations, and Chancery delay--public meetings, andpublic dinners,--loyal toasts, and `three times three'--ladypatronesses, and lords directors,--and by the decoy subscription of thechair--
"Descend!
"By the _nolo episcopari_ of the Bishops--
"Come!
"By newspaper puffs, and newspaper reports,--by patent medicines, andportable dressing-cases, wine-merchant's bottles, ne-plus-ultracorkscrews,--H---t's corn, C---tt's maize, W---'s blacking, and W---'schampagne--
"Appear!
"By thy professional followers, the fashionable tailors, hairdressers,boot-makers, milliners, jewellers--all the auctioneers, and all thebazaars--
"Come to my aid!
"By thy interested worshippers by shuffling W---e, by Z--- M---y, LawyerS---ns, W---m S---th, T---l B---n, Sir G---r McG---r, and Dom M---l--
"Appear!
"By thy talented votaries--
"Descend!
"Still heedless!--Then by the living B---m, and the shade of C---g,come!
"Rebellious and wayward spirit! I tell thee, come thou must, whetherthou art at a council to wage a war in which thousands shall perish, orupon the padding of a coat, by which, unpaid for, but one ninth part ofa man shall suffer--whether thou art forging the powerful artillery ofwoman against unarmed man, and directing the fire from her eye, which,like that of the Egyptian queen, shall lose an empire--or art just asbusy in the adjustment of the bustle [see note 1] of a lady's-maid--appear thou must. There is one potent spell, one powerful name, whichshall force thee trembling to my presence.--Now--
"By all that is _contemptible_--
"By all his patriotism, his affection for the army and the navy--by hisflow of eloquence, and his strength of argument--by the correctness ofhis statements, and the precision of his arithmetic--by his sum_tottle_, and by Joey H---e, himself--
"Appear!"
[_Humbug descends, amidst a discharge of Promethean and copperplatethunder_.]
"'Tis well! Now perch upon the tip, and guide my pen, and contrive thatthe wickedness and hypocrisy of the individual may be forgotten in theabsurdity of the scene."
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The grooms made no scruple, after the catastrophe, to state all that hadpassed between them and their master; it was spread through Cheltenhamwith the usual rapidity of all scandal, in a place where people havenothing to do but to talk about each other. The only confutation whichthe report received, was the conduct of Mr Rainscourt. He waspositively inconsolable--he threw himself upon the remains, declaringthat nothing should separate him from his dear--dear Clara. The honestold curate, who had attended Mrs Rainscourt in her last moments, hadgreat difficulty, with the assistance of the men servants, in removinghim to another chamber on the ensuing day. Some declared that herepented of his unkind behaviour, and that he was struck with remorse;the females observed, that men never knew the value of a wife until theylost her; others thought his grief was all humbug, although theyacknowledged, at the same time, that they could not find out anyinterested motives to induce him to act such a part.
But when Mr Rainscourt insisted that the heart of the deceased shouldbe embalmed, and directed it to be enshrined in an urn of massive gold,then all Cheltenham began to think that he was sincere,--at least allthe ladies did; and the gentlemen, married or single, were either toowise or too polite to offer any negative remark, when his conduct waspronounced to be a pattern for all husbands. Moreover, Mr Potts, thecurate, vouched for his sincerity, in consequence of the handsomegratuity which he had received for consigning Mrs Rainscourt to thevault, and the liberal largess to the poor upon the same occasion. "Howcould any man prove his sincerity more?" thought Mr Potts, who, blindedby gratitude, forgot that although in affliction our hearts are softenedtowards the miseries of others, on the other hand, we are quite as (ifnot more) liberal when intoxicated with good fortune.
Be it as it may, the conduct of Mr Rainscourt was pronounced mostexemplary. All hints and surmises of former variance were votedscandalous, and all Cheltenham talked of nothing but the dead MrsRainscourt, the living Mr Rainscourt, the heart, and the magnificentgold urn.
"Have you heard how poor Mr Rainscourt is?" was the usual question atthe pump, as the ladies congregated to pour down Number 3, or Number 4,in accordance with the directions of the medical humbugs.
"More resigned--they say he was seen walking after dark?"
"Was he, indeed? to the churchyard, of course. Poor dear man!"
"Miss Emily's maid told my Abigail last night, that she looks quitebeautiful in her mourning. But I suppose she will not come on thepromenade again, before she leaves Cheltenham."
"She ought not," replied a young lady who did not much approve of sohandsome an heiress remaining at Cheltenham. "It will be very incorrectif she does; some one ought to tell her so."
With the exception of Mr Potts, no one had dared to break in upon thesolitude of Mr Rainscourt, who had remained the whole day upon thesofa, with the urn on the table before him, and the shutters closed toexclude the light. The worthy curate called upon him every evening,renewing his topics of consolation, and pointing out the duty ofChristian resignation. A deep sigh! a heavy Ah! or a long drawn Oh!were all the variety of answers that could be obtained for some days.But time does wonders; and Mr Rainscourt at last inclined an ear to thenews of the day, and listened with marked attention to the answers whichhe elicited from the curate, by his indirect questions, as to what theworld said about him.
"Come, come, Mr Rainscourt, do not indulge your grief any more. Excessbecomes criminal. It is my duty to tell you so, and yours to attend tome. It is not to be expected that you will immediately return to theworld and its amusements; but as there must be a beginning, why not comeand take your family dinner to-day with Mrs Potts and me? Now let mepersuade you--she will be delighted to see you--we dine at five. A hotjoint--nothing more."
Rainscourt, who was rather tired of solitude, refused in such a way asto induce the worthy curate to reiterate his invitation, and at length,with great apparent unwillingness, consented. The curate sat with himuntil the dinner hour, when, leaning on the pastor's arm, Rainscourtwalked down the street, in all the trappings of his woe, and his eyesnever once raised from the ground.
"There's Mr Rainscourt! There's Mr Rainscourt!" whispered some of thepromenaders who were coming up the street.
"No! that's not him."
"Yes it is, walking with Mr Potts! Don't you see his beautiful largedog following him? He never walks without it. An't it a beauty? It'sa Polygar dog from the East Indies. His name is Tippoo."
The house of the curate was but a short distance from the lodgingsoccupied by Mr Rainscourt. They soon entered, and were hid from theprying eyes of the idle and the curious.
"I have persuaded Mr Rainscourt to come and take a family dinner withus, my dear."
"Quite delighted to see him," replied Mrs Potts, casting a sidelongangry glance at her husband.
Mr Rainscourt made a slight bow, and threw himself on the sofa,covering his face with his hand, as if the light was hideous.
Mrs Potts took the opportunity of escaping by the door, beckoning toher husband as soon as she was outside.
"And I will go and decant the wine.--Quite in the family way, MrRainscourt--no ceremony. You'll excuse me," continued the curate, as heobeyed the summons of his wife, like a school-boy ordered up to be_birched_.
"Well, my dear," interrogated Mr Potts, humbly, as soon as the door wasclosed. But Mrs Potts made no reply, until she had led her husband tosuch a distance from the parlour as she imagined would prevent MrRainscourt from being roused by the high pitch to which she intended toraise her voice.
"I do declare, Mr Potts, you are a complete _fool_. Saturday--all themaids washing--and ask him to dinner! There's positively nothing toeat. It really is too provoking."
"Well, my dear, what does it matter? The poor, man will, in allprobability, not eat a bit--he is so overcome."
"So over-fiddlesticked!" replied the lady. "Grief never hurts theappetite, Mr Potts; on the contrary, people care more then about a gooddinner than at other times. It's the only enjoyment they can havewithout being accused by the world of want of feeling."
"Well, you know better than I, my dear; but I really think that if youwere to die I could not eat a bit."
"And I tell you, Mr Potts, I could, if you were to die tomorrow.--Sostupid of you!--Sally, run and take off the tablecloth,--it's quitedirty; put on one of the fine damask."
"They will be very large for the table, ma'am."
"Never mind--be quick, and step next door, and ask the old German tocome in and wait at table. He shall have a pint of strong beer."
Sally did as she was bid. Mr Potts, whose wine had been decanted longbefore, and Mrs Potts, who had vented her spleen upon her husband,returned into the parlour together.
"My dear Mr Potts is so particular about decanting his wine," observedthe lady, with a gracious smile, as she entered--"he is so long aboutit, and scolds me so if ever I wish to do it for him."
Mr Potts was a little surprised at the last accusation: but as he hadlong been drilled, he laughed assent. A tedious half-hour--during whichthe lady had all the conversation to herself, for the curate answeredonly in monosyllabic compliance, and Rainscourt made no answerwhatever--elapsed before dinner was announced by the German mercenarywho had been subsidised.
"Meinheer, de dinner was upon de table."
"Come, Mr Rainscourt," said the curate, in a persuasive tone.
Rainscourt got up, and without offering his arm to the lady, who had herown bowed out in readiness, stalked out of the room by the side of MrPotts, followed by his wife, who, by her looks, seemed to imply that sheconsidered that the demise of one woman was no excuse for a breach ofpoliteness towards another.
The covers were removed--two small soles (much _too small_ for threepeople), and a dish of potatoes. "Will you allow me to offer you alittle sole, Mr Rainscourt? I am afraid you will have a very poordinner."
Rainscourt bowed in the negative, and the soles disappeared in a veryshort time between the respective organs of mastication of Mr and MrsPotts.
The dishes of the first course were removed; and the German appearedwith a covered dish, followed by Sally, who brought some vegetables, andreturned to the kitchen for more.
"I'm afraid you will have a very poor dinner," repeated the lady.--"Takeoff the cover, Sneider.--Will you allow me to help you to a piece ofthis?"
Rainscourt turned his head round to see if the object offered was suchas to tempt his appetite, and beheld a--_smoking bullock's heart_!
"My wife, my wife!" exclaimed he, as he darted from his chair; andcovering his face, as if to hide from his sight the object whichoccasioned the concatenation of ideas, attempted to run out of the room.
But his escape was not so easy. In his hurried movement he hadentangled himself with the long table-cloth that trailed on the carpet,and, to the dismay of the party, everything that was on the table wasswept off in his retreat; and as he had blindfolded himself, he ran withsuch force against the German, who was in the act of receiving a dishfrom Sally, that, precipitating him against her, they both rolledprostrate on the floor.
"Ah, mein Got, mein Got!" roared the German, as his face was smotheredwith the hot stewed peas, a dish of which he was carrying as he fell onhis back.
"Oh, my eye, my eye!" bellowed Sally, as she rolled upon the floor.
"My wife, my wife!" reiterated Rainscourt, as he trampled over them, andsecured his retreat.
"And oh, my dinner, my dinner!" ejaculated the curate, as he surveyedthe general wreck.
"And oh, you fool, you fool, Mr Potts!" echoed the lady, with her armsakimbo--"to ask such a man to dine with you!"
"Well, I had no idea that he could have taken it so much to _heart_,"replied the curate meekly.
But we must follow Rainscourt, who--whether really agitated by thecircumstance, or, aware that it would be bruited abroad, thought that adisplay of agitation would be advisable--proceeded with hurried steps tothe promenades, where he glided through the thoughtless crowd with thesilent rapidity of a ghost. Having sufficiently awakened the curiosityof the spectators, he sank down on one of the most retired benches, withhis eyes for some time thrown up in contemplation of the fleecy clouds,beyond which kind spirits are supposed to look down, and weep over thefollies and inconsistencies of an erring world. Casting his eyes toearth, he beheld--horror upon horrors--the detested bullock's heart,which his great Polygar dog had seized during the confusion of thedinner scene, and had followed him out with it in his mouth. Finding ittoo hot to carry immediately after its seizure, he had, for a time, laidit down, and had just arrived with it. There he was, not a foot fromthe bench, his jaws distended with the prize, tossing up his head as ifin mockery of his master, and wagging his long, feathered tail.
Rainscourt again made a precipitate retreat to his own lodgings,accompanied by the faithful animal, who, delighted at the unusualrapidity of his master's movements, bounded before him with histreasure, of which he was much too polite to think of making a repastuntil a more seasonable opportunity. Rainscourt knocked at the door--assoon as it was opened, the dog bounced up before him, entering thechamber of woe, and crouching under the table upon which the golden urnwas placed with the heart between his paws, saluted his master with arap or two of his tail on the carpet, and commenced his dinner.
The servant was summoned, and Rainscourt, without looking at either theurn, the dog, or the man, cried--in an angry tone, "Take that heart, andthrow it away immediately."
"Sir!" replied the domestic with astonishment, who did not observe thedog and his occupation.
"Throw it away immediately, sir--do you hear?"
"Yes, sir," replied the man, taking the urn from the table, and quittingthe room with it, muttering to himself, as he descended the stairs "Ithought it
wouldn't last long." Having obeyed his supposedinstructions, he returned--"If you please, sir, where am I to put thepiece of plate?"
"The piece of plate!" Rainscourt turned round, and beheld the vacanturn. It was too much--that evening he ordered the horses, and leftCheltenham for ever.
Various were the reports of the subsequent week. Some said that thefierce dog had broken open the urn, and devoured the embalmed heart.Some told one story--some another; and before the week was over, all thestories had become incomprehensible.
In one point they all agreed--that Mr Rainscourt's grief was allhumbug.
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"'Tis well!--Thou hast `done thy spiriting gently,' or, for thy tardycoming, I would have sentenced thee to the task of infusing thy spiritinto the consistent Eldon, or into Arthur Duke of Wellington--where,like a viper at a file, thou shouldest have tortured thyself in vain."
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Note 1. Bustle. I am not certain whether I spell this modern inventioncorrectly; if not, I must plead ignorance. I have asked several ladiesof my acquaintance, who declare that they never heard of such a thing,which, perhaps, the reader will agree with me, is all humbug.