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 v.l
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/moderntimesorane01lond
 
 MODERN TIMES; 
 
 OR, 
 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ENGLISH FAMILY. 
 
 IN THREE rOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I, 
 
 I dwell upon small matters, being of opinion with Plutarch, that 
 little circumstances show the real men better than things of greater 
 ■noment.—— Guardian, No. 6. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed for J. BUDD, Bookseller to his Royal Highness the 
 
 Prince of Wales, at the Crown and Mitre, Pall-Mall j and 
 
 SHARPE and HAILES, No. 186, Piccadilly. 
 
 I8O9.
 
 Printed by Cox, Son, and Baylis, 
 75, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's-Inn Fields, 
 
 London
 
 V 1 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Novel, to which these remarks are 
 
 introductory, was written under the in- 
 
 lluence of motives, which, if they could 
 
 be properly explained, would ensure its 
 
 f^nccess in the world, even though it had 
 
 X a thousand more defects than will be 
 
 found in the performance. Tlie writer 
 
 V ^ was once disposed to have fau'ly and can- 
 
 didly stated the inducements which 
 
 A 3
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 prompted him to the undertaking : but 
 be has been deterred by persons, on whose 
 judgment he can rely with so much con- 
 fidence, as to prefer it, readily, to his 
 own opinion. The persons alluded to 
 were not all of them authors, but they 
 have all been conversant with the world, 
 so as to have acquired considerable know- 
 ledge of the leading principles of action 
 in the human mind ; and, it is remarkable, 
 that, though numerous, they unanimously 
 agree, that amusement, derived from a 
 literary performance destitute of a single 
 particle of real merit, and published from, 
 no matter what motives, is much more
 
 PREFACE. vil 
 
 eertain to produce advantage to its author^, 
 than the best intentions in the world, ex- 
 plained with the utmost sincerity, and 
 backed by the strongest moral recommen- 
 dations. *^ If, therefore/' said one of my 
 advisers, '' your book afford entertainment 
 ^' ~a fjg for your motives in publishing 
 
 " itr 
 
 I will not, therefore, teil my readers 
 why these pages are sent into the world : 
 but will leave them to all the vast variety 
 of conjectures \\hich their different dis- 
 positions may suggest. They may sup- 
 pose me desirous of fame, without having 
 attached my name to the work : they may 
 A 4
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 imagine that pecuniary advantage is my 
 object, without knowing whether I have 
 any interest in the sale of the pubHcation, 
 or whether the sale of it be an object wor- 
 thy of attention : they may conjecture that 
 it was written to while away the tedious 
 hours of sickness, — as a certain author tells 
 us, he was induced to publish a volume 
 of Travels by Sea and Land: they may give 
 me credit for having been induced, by the 
 solicitations or my friends, to exhibit this 
 bantling of fancy, as Mrs. Salmon shewed 
 her wax figures — to all who chose to pay 
 for 3' sight, — without knowing whether my 
 friends deserve so bad a compliment : they
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 may think that I want to pass for a per- 
 son of observation and discernment, with- 
 out any idea whether the scenes describ- 
 ed came under my own eye, or are the 
 mere phantoms of the brain : they may 
 attribute to me a sarcastic spitefulness, and 
 beheve that I feel a gratification in ridi- 
 cuhng the foibles, and exposing the follies^ 
 of others, without any knowledge of my 
 disposition, or any idea of my temper : 
 in short, they may suppose, imagine, con- 
 jecture, think, just as they please, so that 
 they will but condescend to read the fol- 
 lowing pages, to correct in their own con- 
 duct what they perceive amiss in the de- 
 A 5
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 lineations here exhibited to them ; and 
 imitate whatsoever they find recorded in 
 the narrative, either virtuous or praise- 
 worthy. 
 
 But, lest there should arise any mistake 
 in the minds of that class of my readers, 
 whose extreme sensibility might incline 
 them to apply to themselves some of the 
 remarks, which, if so intended to be ap- 
 plied, would perhaps have been ill-natured 
 and indecorous, I beg leave once for- all, 
 to say, that to avoid the possibility of giving 
 offence, my manuscript has been seen by 
 every one of the persons whose character 
 is introduced into the work, and that in
 
 PREFACE. Xi 
 
 g-eneral they appear to Iiave been remark- 
 ably well pleased with the execution of 
 it;, considering the freedoms which have 
 been used with some of them. To con- 
 vince the general reader of this, I shall 
 subjoin extracts from the communications 
 with which I have been honoured on this 
 subject ; and which I consider as so many 
 testimonials in favour of the work. 
 
 Testimonial the First, 
 
 " Sir Philip English thanks the au- 
 
 *^ thor of Modern Times ^ for the enter- 
 
 '' tainment which the perusal of his MS, 
 
 '^ has afforded him^ and so far from being 
 
 A 6
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 " offended at the freedom which he per- 
 " ceives has been taken with his family 
 " affairs, assures the author, that no part 
 " of the work has given him greater plea- 
 '^ sure than that in which Sir Phihp E. 
 '^ has been made contributory to the 
 " mirth of those around him." 
 
 Testimonial the Second. 
 " Colonel Courtly is prodigiously 
 " flattered by having been made so con- 
 ^' spicuous a character in Modern Times.''' 
 
 Testimonial the Third. 
 
 '^ Admiral Ortolan has no objection 
 " to the author of Modern Times telling
 
 PREFACE. Xlfi 
 
 ^^ the truth about the farmer's wife in the 
 '^ stage coach ; but the story of the oyster 
 ^' is all a fudge." 
 
 Testimonial the Fourth, 
 
 " Counsellor Collis is of opinion, 
 ^* that the author of Modern Times would 
 *^ have acted with more propriety, if he 
 '^ had procured affidavits of all the facts 
 ^^ he states as such, in his book, some of 
 " them on very doubtful authority. The 
 '^ Counsellor has taken great pains to ex- 
 " amine the several reports, and is sorry 
 *^ that many of them are worded with 
 *^ great ambiguity; so that it is very
 
 Xiy^ PREFACE. 
 
 " difficult to form an opinion whether 
 
 ^^ any penalty has been incurred either 
 
 ^^ under the statute of scan, mag. or other 
 
 ^^ Acts of Parliament. The Counsellor 
 
 *^ begs leave to correct an error in one of the 
 
 ^^ incidents related of himself :— the book 
 
 " alluded to in page 236^ Vol. I. being 
 
 '^ Blackstone's Commentaries, instead of 
 
 '^ Comyns's Digest, as mentioned by the 
 " author." 
 
 Testimonial the Fifth 
 
 "^ Miss Savannah thinks the author of 
 ^^ Modern Times might have had more 
 " sense than to select the conversation 
 *^ which she held with Admiral Ortolan
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 '' at Colonel Courtly's, for the amuse- 
 '• ment of his readers : for to her perfect 
 •^ recollection, she had been talking 
 -^ during the whole day, and must have 
 *^ said a thousand things which would 
 *' have cut a better figure in print." 
 
 Testimonial the Sixth, 
 
 '' Sir; 
 
 " I THINK it is very impertinent 
 
 •' in your making allusions to the frolics of 
 
 '^ a nobleman, in your pretended novel. 
 
 " I w^as educated at College as well as you, 
 
 " and shall write a book myself, in which 
 
 " you will find yourself finely lampooned. 
 
 ^' What the devil, is not a 5^oung man to
 
 Xvi PREFACE, 
 
 ^^ drive a slap-bang-, because he has got a 
 
 " handel to his name. Take care of your 
 
 '^ shoulders, my boy ! Crack ! Smack ! 
 
 ^^ — Its well your book is annonnimus. 
 " Yours, 
 
 '' Rivulet;' 
 
 Testimonial the Seventh. 
 ^' Captain English presents his com- 
 ^^ pHments to the author of Modern Times, 
 '^ and although he confesses that there have 
 ^^ been many circumstances in his conduct, 
 " vsrhich deserve to be exposed to the ridi- 
 " cule of the world ; and is ready to admit 
 " that the author has treated him with as 
 " much lenity as he had any right to ex-
 
 PRE FA C E. XVU 
 
 •^' pect, cannot conceal his chagrin at find- 
 " ing that he has indulged his humour, in 
 ^^ representing Captain English as the 
 '^ writer of a novel. 
 
 " The Captain is induced to notice this 
 *• circumstance the more seriously^ because 
 ^^ he conceives it may be injurious to his 
 ^^ character, in the view of many of his ac- 
 '^ quaintances, and particularly of Lord Ri- 
 '' vulet, whose friendship he should proba- 
 " bly lose if his Lordship could be induced 
 '^ to suppose him capable of writing any 
 '• thing besides a card of invitation, a billet- 
 " doux, or a challenge. Captain English, 
 " therefore, expects that in a future edition.
 
 XVlli PREFACE. 
 
 ^^ the author will represent him accord- 
 " ingly." 
 
 Testimonial the Eighth, 
 " Respected Friend ; 
 
 " I HAVE to congratulate thee 
 ^^ upon the extraordinary success of thy la- 
 ^^ hours, in having corrected the shame- 
 ^^ facedness of my son Nicholas Juxon, the 
 ^^ younger, who had of late waxed froward 
 ^^ with regard to the regulations of our so- 
 ^^ ciety ; but, on reading thy strictures upon 
 ^^ the times present, and perceiving that 
 " thou hast introduced me, though unwor- 
 " thy, among the great ones of the land, 
 '^ hath become reconciled to the garb as
 
 PREFACE, XIX 
 
 ^' well as the simplicity of him who begat 
 
 " him. For this thou hast my thanks^ 
 
 ^^ and I assure thee that I take in good 
 
 " part, what thou hast said relative to thy 
 
 '* friend, 
 
 ^' Nicholas Juxon, 
 " tlie Elderr 
 
 '^ If thou will let me know where thou 
 •^ sojournest, I will send thee a morsel of 
 ^^ meat, — to wit, a turkey and chine, that 
 " thou may est make merry with thy 
 ^^ friends. So fare thee well/* 
 
 Honoured and obliged as I feel by such 
 kind encouragement, I will not push my
 
 XX PREFACE. 
 
 good fortune too far, nor presume to pub- 
 lish the letters of Mrs. Chaloner and her 
 accomplished friend ; but rather imitating 
 the good sense, and good nature of the 
 latter, on another occasion, suppress what 
 might prove, perhaps, equally discredit- 
 able to both parties. For these ladies 
 can not deny, that many things may pass 
 in a private correspondence, vs^hich vv^ere 
 thought agreeable and appropriaie at the 
 time, but which are not proper to be i^e- 
 peated puhlicly . 
 
 I am satisfied that after a little reflexion 
 my fair friends will agree with me on this 
 head, and be better pleased to hear that I
 
 PREFACE. XXI 
 
 have sealed up their letters, and endorsed 
 them ^^ never to he opened, unless in the 
 *' presence of the writers,'' than if I had 
 complied with the wish which in their 
 anger, they have thought fit to express 
 that I would suffer them to tell their 
 own story. There are so few persons who, 
 charming and beautiful as they are, would 
 have believed half of what they have said 
 to me ; and so many, who would have 
 abused and accused us all, and whispered 
 trick, contrivance, and conspiracy, in a 
 very audible manner, that my ingenious 
 correspondents must excuse the liberty I 
 have taken^ in persisting to tell their story
 
 XXU PREFACE. 
 
 for them, regardless of their desire to in- 
 dite their own narrative. They will please 
 to observe, that, instead of a relater of 
 facts, I should then become a mere apolo- 
 logist : and ever since the Apology fm^ 
 the Life of George Ann Bellamy, and 
 a few indiscreet publications of the same 
 stamp, they may depend upon it, that the 
 public is inclined to think silence a 
 stronger recommendation of a handsome 
 woman than any thing which her pen can 
 convey : — Mrs. Chaloner and her friend 
 will, therefore, allow me to make the 
 same remark to them, as I should have 
 done to the celebrated author of Ccelebs
 
 PREFACE. Xxiii 
 
 in Search of a Wife, if she had given me 
 the same opportunity. 
 
 They have my sincerest good wishes^ 
 notwithstanding the displeasure they have 
 manifested : and I shall be proud of any 
 future opportunity of recording better 
 things of them, both for their own sakes^ 
 and the sake of their protectors^ than I 
 could with truth insert in these pages. 
 
 Before I conclude, let me not fail to 
 acknowledge, with the respect it deserves, 
 the admonitory letter which a certain 
 scribe has sent to me, by the desire of a 
 person whom I never saw, nor heard of 
 before, in consequence of this very semi-
 
 Xxiv PREFACE. 
 
 hie person having fancied that he perceived 
 his own Hkeness in the mirror of Modern 
 Times, " The cap^' perhaps, ^^ fitted^ hut 
 ^^ it did not seem very becoming;'''* to 
 this same scribe I shall only answer, 
 '' Umph!" 
 
 Buen-Retiro, 
 September, I8O9.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 " Modern Times!" exclaimed Sir Phi- 
 lip English, throwing down a newspaper 
 with which he had been amusing himself: 
 " Volumes, indeed, may be written on the 
 *^ subject ; but the best that can be said 
 **' is, that they are full of contradictions, 
 " inconsistencies, and absurdity!" 
 
 Mrs. Burrows, an elder sister of the 
 Baronet, who had resided with him for 
 many years, was sitting by, with her 
 spectacles on, to assist the power of a 
 magnifying glass in enabling her to read 
 a description of the fashionable dresses in 
 
 VOL, I. B
 
 2 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 Le Beau 3Ionde or some other polite 
 repository of nonsense. — *^ Brother/' said 
 the old lady, '^ you were never more 
 ^^ mistaken in your life; — they afford a 
 ^^ most interesting picture of worth and 
 ^'^ generosity ; and I defy the most fasti- 
 *^^ dious critic to point out a single instance 
 ^' to justify your unmerited censure." 
 
 " Sister," replied Sir Philip, '' it is 
 ^^ very provoking that you always oppose 
 ^^ my sentiments : — surely I am at least 
 ^' old enough to form an opinion of what 
 *^ I hear and read." 
 
 ^^ But, my dear brother," rejoined 
 Mrs. Burrows, ^^ you, like most other 
 ^^ men, think yourself gifted with so much 
 " discrimination, that you read very su- 
 *^ perficially, and yet pronounce your 
 *^ opinions in the most positive manner. 
 ^^ I assure you, that I do not recollect in
 
 MODERN TIMES. 3 
 
 '^ Modern Times any instance of a country 
 " gentleman, who scarcely ever looked 
 ^' into a book, unless perhaps his Family 
 *^ Bible or the Racing Calendar, who all 
 ^^ on a sudden turned critic upon us, and 
 ^' damned the reputation of an author 
 ^^ whose works he had probably never 
 " seen, nor even heard of, but by the 
 " title, with as little ceremony as he 
 ^^ would flog one of his hounds." 
 
 '' I wish," said Sir Phihp, " that I had 
 ^^ neither seen nor heard of the works of 
 '* this author, as you call him. Very 
 " fine works, to be sure ! and in pretty 
 *^ extravagant binding too ! Grenerosi ty 
 " truly ! Let a man be just before hepre- 
 " tends to be generous. Generous, in- 
 *^ deed, with what has been extorted, 
 " absolutely extorted, from the honest 
 " and industrious amongst the middling 
 B 2
 
 4 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ and lower classes^ reduced almost to 
 '* want by this same author of the 
 *^ Miseries of Human Life, (whom you 
 ^^ always undertake to defend) — and for 
 *' what ? — for the purpose of giving 
 *' grand dinners to a set of black letter 
 *^ men, his old associates^ and newspaper 
 '^ compositors^ his new supporters." 
 
 *^ I have told you an hundred times, 
 ** brother/* said the lady, " that in esti- 
 ^^ mating the value of an authors works, 
 *^ we have nothing to do with his do- 
 *^ mestic concerns. What right can we 
 *^ possibly have to scrutinize his affairs? 
 *^ What you speak of, respecting his ex- 
 ** travagance, is not at all the concern of 
 « the public." 
 
 « It is,'' replied Sir Philip, *' the 
 " concern of the public, of you and me, 
 *^ and every one who pays that cursed
 
 MODERN TIMES. 5 
 
 *^ tncome-tax, if our money goes to sup- 
 '^ port it. Is it not our money that he 
 '^ squanders ? — Does not this newspaper 
 *^ expressly state the enormous sums ex- 
 *^ pended even in printing and stationery, 
 '^ when a fifth part of the money, if 
 *^ properly managed, would have been 
 " sufficient; whilst those, whose pockets 
 *' pay for all, are suffering a thousand 
 ** privations and distresses? And yet, 
 '^ Arabella, you would have me join you 
 " in praising this famous author of the 
 " Miseries of Human Life'^ 
 
 " I cannot think. Sir Philip," said 
 Mrs. Burrows, '^ where you get your 
 ^^ intelligence. I suspect, indeed, it must 
 *^ be some ill-natured critic who misleads 
 *' you : — however, I assure you that I 
 ^ have been told by the best authority, 
 B 3
 
 6 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " that the author of the new novel is a 
 " very distinguished writer, and a person 
 ^^ of a very different stamp from him to 
 '^ whom you attribute the work." 
 
 *' Sister/' resumed the Baronet, " I 
 " wish you would talk in plain English, 
 " without so much metaphor : I am 
 *^ really at a loss to know what you 
 
 ^^ Why, did you not this moment as- 
 ^' sert, that the author of the Miseries of 
 ^^ Human Life, whom every one w^ho 
 *^ reads any of the modern publications 
 ^^ may readily guess at, is the writer of 
 ^' the new novel called Modern Times ? " 
 
 ^^ No, no, sister, I never said any 
 " such thing," replied Sir Philip. " Is it 
 " possible, Arabella, that you can have 
 " attended to my remarks, and ask such
 
 MODERN TIMES. 7 
 
 " a question ? Have I said any thing 
 " about novels ? Was I not lamenting 
 '' the miserable condition of the country, 
 " and the inconsistence of calHng the 
 ^ extravagance of ministry acts of mu- 
 '^ nificence and generosity, whilst the 
 *' honest and industrious tradesman and 
 *^ mechanic are suffering under an almost 
 " intolerable weight of taxation ? " 
 
 '^ Mercy on me, brother ! I protest that 
 '^ your observations struck me in a very 
 *^ different light. — Before I took up the 
 *' magazine in my hand, I had just been 
 ** thinking of a new novel, which 1 lately 
 " read, and with very great satisfaction : — 
 " and when you so emphatically pronoun- 
 " ced the title of it " Modem Times,'' I 
 '^ totally misunderstood the subsequent 
 ^* remarks, and supposed that you w^re 
 ^^ pronouncing a very severe and unme- 
 B 4
 
 » MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " rited sentence upon the author of that 
 ^' work, in consequence of having per- 
 " haps seen it advertised in the news- 
 ^^ paper." 
 
 *^ Well, w^ell, sister, although you often 
 ^^ upbraid me by saying that my notions 
 " are old-fashioned, it seems that you 
 *' sometimes think me capable of making 
 *^ novel remarks ! But, pray, what is 
 " this same publication? Does it say any 
 ^' thing of the war and the ministry?" 
 
 " Something of both," replied Mrs. 
 Burrows; " and what you would very 
 ** well like, if you w^uld give yourself 
 " time to peruse it with attention ; and 
 " not dip into it in the middle of a 
 *' volume, as the professed despisers of 
 *^ novels are apt to do." 
 
 ** And does it mention the public 
 ^' amusements," said Sir Philip, ^' and
 
 MODERN TIMES. 9 
 
 *' the luxury and dissipation of this de- 
 
 '' generate age ?" 
 
 *' All these are mentioned, and I think, 
 
 ** brother, in a very proper and becoming 
 
 " manner : — not in the acrid style of the 
 
 " Satyrist^ nor with the puritanitJal cant 
 
 " of the spiritualizing sect,, who are fond 
 
 " of drawing the picture of vice at full 
 
 " length; and seem to expose its most 
 
 *' hideous deformity, rather with a view 
 
 " of feasting their own eyes upon it,. 
 
 ** than to render it odious in the sight of 
 
 " the world. The foibles of the great 
 
 *' are fairly laid open, but the shafts of 
 
 ** ridicule are barbed with good humour; 
 
 " and whilst the author has said many 
 
 " things which those to whom they re- 
 
 " late would blush to acknowledge^ the 
 
 " story is so told, that almost every one 
 
 ^^ who reads it will enjoy a secret, s a ;i5- 
 B 5.
 
 10 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " faction in beholding the hkeness of his 
 " neighbour. 
 
 " In short, Modern limes exhibits a 
 *' sort of whimsical mirror, in which 
 ** every one who looks in it sees the 
 ** likeness of his acquaintance, but can 
 *^ not always recognize his own features. 
 *' Sometimes he may think the figure a 
 •^ little distorted, but it is never rendered 
 ** disgusting. It may amuse, but never 
 *' terrifies. Some of the faces may also 
 *« seem to have improved by being re- 
 *' fleeted: but they are only heightened 
 ** to such a degree of excellence as is 
 «' perfectly consistent with probability ; 
 <* fit to excite emulation, but not calcu- 
 ^^ iated as an incentive to envy." 
 
 <^ And who is the author of the per- 
 ^< formance ? " said Sir Philip. 
 
 [' There are various opinions on that
 
 MODERN TIMES. 11 
 
 " subject/* replied Mrs. Burrows. The 
 " work made its appearance when I was 
 '^ at Brighton last summer. It was an- 
 '* nounced as usual in the public papers, 
 " and displayed on the library tables. 
 *' Sir William de la Roche first mention- 
 " ed it to me, as we were walking on 
 ^^ the Steyne. He said that he was per- 
 " fectly acquainted with many of the 
 " persons whose characters were so well 
 '^ drawn in the work, that he had no 
 " difficulty in recognizing his acquaint- 
 " ances. 
 
 , " I asked him if his own portrait was 
 '^ amongst them. '^ I will leave you to 
 " " find that out," said he, « and will 
 " " send you the book to-morrow morn- 
 " " ing." — ^The day was stormy, and 
 " you know how miserably dull and 
 ** comfortless every thing appears in such 
 B 6
 
 12 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 \Vweaher at Brighton^ ^vhere even the 
 '' interesting anxiety which is excited by 
 ** seeing vessels tossed about on the rough 
 *' waves is denied to us ; and the ruffled 
 " surface of the water, variegated only 
 " by its white foam ; (not even a single 
 " ship within the reach of vision) is the 
 *' only object of contemplation. Unless, 
 *' indeed, some dashing belle, desirous of 
 ** exhibiting herself as the daughter of 
 ** iEolus, attended perhaps by a military 
 " hero, closely wrapped in his surtout 
 *^ coat, defies the inclement blast, and 
 ** makes a hasty transit over the de- 
 " serted Steyne." 
 
 *' Quite picturesque, Arabella, upon 
 -*' my word." 
 
 *^ True, brother, but not beautiful. 
 " Let me proceed with my narrative. 
 f The weather being so unfavourable, I
 
 MODERN TIMES. 13 
 
 ^ was the more impatient to see the book 
 " which had been so obligingly promised 
 *' me. At length, but Bot until the hour 
 ** of dinner, Sir William de la Roche 
 " was announced. 
 
 " '* Pray, Sir William^ where is the 
 " " novel?" 
 
 " " Excessively concerned, madam, at 
 *' " being compelled to postpone the ho- 
 " *' nour of being laughed at at present, 
 '' *' by not being able to afford you an 
 *^ " opportunity of perusing what the 
 ^' " author has been pleased to say of 
 " *' your very humble servant : — but not 
 " " a single copy can be procured. The 
 *' '' whole town is in an uproar, and two 
 " *' or three duels are expected in conse- 
 ^* '' quence of the efforts which have been 
 " " made to get a first sight of the 
 f' '' work."
 
 14 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " It seems that Miss Courtly, whom 
 " we observed going into the Hbrary, as 
 " we were walking the preceding evening, 
 '' had casually opened the first volume, 
 " and the paragraph which immediately 
 '^ presented itself was an exact description 
 ^^ of the person of her old and eccentric 
 ^^ admirer. Colonel Chatwell. She could 
 ^^ not forbear laughing at the picture, 
 " which is drawn with equal correctness 
 " and good-humour ; and handed the 
 *' book to young Clackson, who is an en- 
 *^ sign in the Colonel's regiment. Clack- 
 '^ son, without in the least suspecting the 
 " contents, began to read it aloud ; he soon 
 *^ perceived for whom the sketch was in- 
 " tended, and vastly enjoyed the diversion 
 *^ it afforded to the company : but, before 
 ^^ he had proceeded to the bottom of the 
 *' page, found that his own likeness was
 
 MODERN TIMES. 15 
 
 ^^ coupled with that of his commander. 
 *^ '^ The golden locks of the beardless 
 ^' " boy, proclaiming the glory of a de- 
 "^ '^ scent more illustrious than that of 
 " ^^ the race of Stuart ; even from great 
 ^' ^^ Apollo himself/' so well accorded 
 *5 with the frequent boastings of the little 
 ^^ ensign, prepared him to expect some- 
 " thing more than a mere sketch ; — per- 
 " haps a whole length picture of himself; 
 *^ and, therefore, pretending to recollect 
 " an engagement which he had never 
 " made, he hastily closed the book, and 
 ^^ returned it to Miss Courtly. 
 
 *' The curiosity of the company was 
 ^^ however sufficiently excited : every one 
 *^ was eager to obtain a sight of the per- 
 " formance, and seemed to expect his or 
 " her sharie of the author s notice. The 
 " few copies at the library found irame-
 
 l6 MODERN TIMKS. 
 
 "^ diate purchasers^ and the bookseller 
 " assured Sir WilHam de la Roche, that 
 '^ • he could have sold the whole edition in 
 *^ twenty-four hours. Clackson became 
 *^^ the principal object of raillery, as he 
 *^ was the only person then at Brighton 
 *^ who Was recognized among the charac- 
 *' ters depicted in the work v — but when 
 ^^ afresh supply had been obtained from 
 " London, and the book was more gene- 
 *^ rally circulated, several other persons 
 " well known amongst the company, par- 
 '^ ticipated in the honour of notoriety, 
 " with which, although in many instances 
 •"^ it was^ occasioned by their follies or ec- 
 '^ centricities, they almost without excep- 
 *^ tion seemed to be much better pleased, 
 " than if they had been entirely neglected." 
 " But who is the author of the book?'* 
 repeated Sir Philip,
 
 MODERN TIMES, 1? 
 
 " Sir William de la Roche/' replied 
 Mrs. Burrows^ *• attributed it to a young 
 " gentleman who had been at Brighton 
 '* during what is called the season^ for 
 '' two or three preceding years ; and who 
 ^ mixed with the company on almost 
 " every occasion ; and yet appeared to be 
 " completely isolated among them^ as he 
 " was scarcely ever observed to exchange 
 " a word with any one. From the pecu- 
 •* liarity of his dress^ he was called the 
 *^ little green man. 
 
 ^^ There were others, who thought that 
 *^ it was written by an old clergyman who 
 ^^ usually takes a house on the cliff for a 
 " month or two every summer : — but this 
 ^' was not a very probable conjecture; for 
 " he is a pluralist with a very large in- 
 " come, and not only too rich, but too 
 " lazy, to write with such spirit as is dis-
 
 18 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " played by the author. In fine, the no- 
 *^ vel of Modern Times has attracted so 
 " much notice, that imaghiaticn has been. 
 *' perpetually at work to discover to whom 
 ** the public is obliged for the entertain- 
 ''^ ment which it affords : and it has been 
 ^^ ascribed to almost as many different 
 '^ persons as there are different characters 
 " exhibited in the book. 
 
 " The last ball I was at, the conversa- 
 **^ tion happened to be on this very sub- 
 *' ject ; and one of the company, who 
 " seemed to be a critic by profession, as- 
 *^ serted, that there were intrinsic marks 
 *^ by which he could perceive that the au- 
 " thor was certainly a lawyer. He said . 
 " that the words whereas and likewise oc- 
 " curred three times in two pages, and 
 " that appurtenances was often used in- 
 '^ stead of appendages*
 
 MODERN TIMES. 19 
 
 ^^ I remember that I was much diverted 
 '' by this sagacious remark; fur there was 
 '' a clergyman present, who insisted that 
 " the words were nearly synonimous, and, 
 *' said, that he could not recollect any 
 " other proofs of their distinct meaning 
 " than that appurtenances might more 
 *^ correctly describe the curls of a judge's 
 " wig, and appendages the three tails; 
 " He also instanced the anecdote of Judge 
 *' Willes, who reprimanded a witness for 
 " taking up the time of the Court by un* 
 *^ meaning repetitions. '' You are per- 
 *' '* petually repeating also and //Are- 
 *' " wise,'" said his Lordship, '' and 
 •' ^' they are words of exactly the same 
 '' " import." 
 
 ^* " Your Lordship is mistaken," re- 
 '^ plied the fellow, '^ I could soon shew 
 " ** that there is a great difference be-
 
 20 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 cc <( 
 
 <( 
 
 tween them." '^ Let me hear you/* 
 " said the Judore. 
 
 " «f My Lord/' said the man^ very 
 '^ archly, " ^^ your father was a judge." 
 
 " Very well/' said his Lordship/^ **what 
 " then?" — " Your Lordship is a judge 
 ^^ " a/.9o, but not like-ivise" 
 
 ^^ To pursue my account: — The critic 
 '^ appeared to be very unequally matched 
 '^ against his opponent ; and without at- 
 " tempting to confute him, proceeded to 
 " remark, that the circumstance of the 
 ^^ author's having avoided being libellous, 
 ^^ and yet employed all the instruments 
 '^ which constitute a libel, was another 
 ^^ proof that he belonged to the profession 
 ^' of the law. 
 
 ^^ This, his antagonist also objected to. 
 " " If/' said he, " by the instruments 
 *^ ^^ which constitute a libel, you mean
 
 MODERN TIMES. 21 
 
 ^ pen, ink, and paper, every writer is 
 ^ in the same predicament: if vowels 
 ^ . and consonants, words and sentences, 
 ' to be sure they are the elements out 
 ' of which spring equally libels, and 
 
 * the laws which punish them ; but the 
 
 * ingredients of a libel appear to me to 
 
 V consist of an intention to injure the 
 ' reputation of another by malignant 
 ' assertions, and mischievous abuse ; 
 
 V and a disposition to defame any per- 
 ' son by unfair and unjust opinions of 
 ' his words and actions, or misrepre- 
 ' sentations of the motives in which 
 
 * they originated. Every thing short 
 ^ of this, however galling and dis- 
 ' agreeable to the feelings of the per- 
 
 * son whose conduct or pursuits are 
 ' scrutinized, is in my opinion the un- 
 ' doubted privilege of a free-born Eng-
 
 S2 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " " lishman, which I should be sorry to 
 " " see abridged : but he who exceeds the 
 *' " honourable barrier which forms the 
 ^^ ^^ Hne of distinction I have attempt- 
 *' " ed to draw between fair discussion 
 " " and scriptoriaUicentiousness, deserves 
 ** *^ the severest disgrace and punishment. 
 " ^* But I see nothing of this kind/' 
 " said he, *' in Modern Times, and, 
 *' *^ therefore, to say that the author has 
 " " used the means of hbeUing skilful- 
 '^ " ly, because he knew how far the law 
 *^ " allows him to go, is just as if you 
 " " should assert that he who wears a 
 " " sword is always ready to stab his 
 " *^ neighbour, and is only prevented 
 *' " doing it by fear of the gallows: — 
 " " or that every person who carries a 
 " " pistol in his pocket must necessarily 
 " " be a highwayman. You must also
 
 MODERN TIMES. 23 
 
 *' ^' allow that the author of Modern 
 " " 7 /me* has distributed commendation 
 *^ " with at least as hberal a hand as he 
 *^ '* has apphed censure." 
 
 " The critic was unable to parry the 
 " blow ; but it did not silence him ; and 
 ** he obstinately maintained the same 
 *' opinion with which he had commenced 
 ^' his observations. For my own part, I 
 *' have no idea who wrote the book : but 
 *' I think it comes of a good family, be- 
 *' cause it is well dressed, and is neither 
 " awkwardly diffident nor insolently bold : 
 " and if you would like to be acquainted 
 ^^ with it, I will introduce it to your no- 
 '' tice as soon as it is returned from a friend 
 ** who has borrowed it." 
 
 " Pray, sister," said the Baronet, do 
 ** you know the name of the clergyman 
 who spoke so well about libels ? I think 
 
 «
 
 ^4 ^lODERN TIMES. 
 
 " I should like to be acquainted with him 
 '' as well as the book." 
 
 " I never saw him before," replied Mrs. 
 Burrows, " but was told that his name is 
 " Worth, and when I mentioned the con- 
 '' versation to Miss Courtly, she smiled, 
 *' and said, that he was a frequent visitor 
 " at her father's house : and added, that 
 " Mr. Worth was not only a very good 
 ** scholar, but remarkably candid and li- 
 ** beral in his opinions, but too sincere 
 *' in his disposition, to have spoken so 
 '' highly in praise of the author, unless 
 *^ he had known him to deserve his com- 
 ** mendation. 
 
 ^' Worth is a good name," said the Ba- 
 ronet ; " it speaks for itself; he must be a 
 " worthy man." 
 
 " I was afraid, brother, of that unfor- 
 ^* tunate coincidence of sound and sense,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 25 
 
 ^* or rather nonsense : you know 1 detest 
 ^' the vile art of punning." 
 
 " Weil, then," replied Sir Philip, " I 
 " will not punish you with any more of 
 *' it, if you will give me a sight of the 
 *' book, and introduce me to the worthy 
 '* Mr. Worth." 
 
 Mrs. Burrows repeated her promise, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 26 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The conversation related in the pre- 
 ceding chapter began in such a manner as 
 to threaten an altercation, if not a quarrel, 
 between Sir Philip EngHsh and his sister, 
 who, notwithstanding their proneness to 
 such incidents, loved each other with the 
 sincerest affection ; but the whimsicality 
 of the mistake, into which the lady had 
 fallen, converted the displeasure, which she 
 had at first felt, into good-humour. 
 
 Fortunately, the Baronet's curiosity was 
 so much aroused by the d^noument, that 
 he abstained from farther poHtical re- 
 marks which incessantly involved him in 
 these domestic wranglings, which the vo- 
 lubility of Mrs. Burrows rendered some-
 
 MODERN TIMks. 27 
 
 times extremely irksome to him^ and when 
 carried on before witnesses, as was often 
 the case, not less diverting to them. 
 
 It may not be wholly uninteresting to 
 the reader, to become a little acqaai.ited 
 with the history of Sir Philip English and 
 his sister, before the period at which they 
 are now introduced to him. 
 
 Sir Philip was a rough English Baronet 
 of the old school. He had been educated 
 in the usual manner, with much tender- 
 ness on the part of his mother, who super- 
 intended his studies herself for the first 
 ten years of his life ; with much indul- 
 gence, on the part of Sir Hugh English, 
 his father, who taught him to ride on 
 horseback as soon as he was able to hold 
 the bridle, and gave him a relish for hunt- 
 ing, fishing, and field sports, even before he 
 had altogether escaped from the nursery. 
 c 2
 
 28 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 At length, emancipated from his pre» 
 ceptress, he was sent to a great school in 
 the neighbourhood of his father's seat: 
 and, in time, acquired sufficient know- 
 ledge of books and of the manners of the 
 age, to qualify him for making a respect- 
 able figure among the best company in the 
 county; to deliver his opinion freely before 
 a bench of country justices, or at a meet- 
 ing of freeholders ; and, in short, to pre- 
 pare him for the duties of his station. 
 
 The property, which he expected to in- 
 herit, gave him a title to be considered 
 among the first persons of the county in 
 which his father resided ; and, with a know- 
 ledge of his birthright, he imbibed a spirit 
 of independence, ever impatient of con- 
 trol, which, when strengthened by length 
 of years, and ultimately, the possession 
 of the estate which fell to him during his
 
 MODERN TIMES. 29 
 
 minority, rendered him sometimes less 
 eeremouioiis in the dehvery of his senti- 
 ments, than was thought, by some of his 
 neighbours, consistent with pohteness. 
 
 Sir Phihp was, moreover, what the world 
 commonly calls an old bachelor. 
 
 It might be difficult to decide whether 
 this was more the efrect of choice or of 
 accident. He had in his youth been dis- 
 posed to entertain a penchant for the 
 daughter of a clergyman ; and as the su- 
 periorit}^ of his rank and fortune enabled 
 him, as he thought^ to address her with 
 less ceremony than if their condition in 
 life had been more nearly on a par, he 
 took an opportunity of speaking to the old 
 gentleman on the subject ; and, at once^ 
 made an offer of his hand and fortune, 
 without pursuing the tedious and cir- 
 
 c a
 
 .30 MOBERN TIMES. 
 
 cijitous course of first applying to tlie 
 young lady herself. 
 
 The parsoLi^who thought that his daugh- 
 ter could have no possible objecH:ion to 
 become the lady of a Baronet, with a good 
 coustituiion and a fine estate, gave him 
 the most flattering reply \ and invited him 
 to visit his daughter the next day. 
 
 Sir Philip accordingly put an addition- 
 al pair of horses to his coach, dressed him- 
 self with more than ordinary care, and 
 proceeded to the Rectory, where, alighting 
 at the garden-gate, he found the family in 
 the greatest confusion imaginable. 
 
 The parson was in a prodigious rage, 
 and his wife almost in a phrenzy ; — for the 
 young lady, who, by the bye, had not the 
 most distant idea of the honour intend- 
 ed her, had, that very morning, eloped
 
 MODERN TIMES. 31 
 
 with the son of a rich brewer^ a young 
 gentleman who had been for some time 
 under the tuition of her father. The Doc- 
 tor and his wife had pursued the fugitives 
 as far as the next town^ but hearing no- 
 thing of them there^ were just returned 
 to the parsonage. 
 
 Sir Philip^ whose heart was not so much 
 set upon the match, as for it to be broken 
 by this disappointment, was yet secretly 
 vexed at it ; and the more so, because he 
 considered it to be entirely his own fault ; 
 for hts pride would not suffer liim for a 
 moment to imagine, if he had announced 
 his intention to the young lady, that she 
 could have preferred the son of a brewer 
 to an independent Baronet. 
 
 The displeasure of the reverend Doc- 
 tor at the imprudence of his dau^rhter, 
 was greatly increased by reflecting upon 
 C 4
 
 ^2 xMODERN TIMES. 
 
 the injury which he might suffer from it 
 in his chai^acter as a schoolmaster. He had 
 also another daughter ; and, as the princi- 
 pal inducement of many who placed their 
 sons under his care was the domestic com- 
 forts they were permitted to enjoy under his 
 roof^ where they were treated as if belong- 
 ing to his own family^ — that very circum- 
 stance^ which had hitherto been the strong- 
 est recommendation* of his school^ might 
 hereafter be considered replete with incal- 
 culable mischief; and when^ to this seri* 
 ous consideration, were superadded, the 
 weight of the Baronet's fortune, the be- 
 nefits of such an alliance, and the prospect 
 of future advantage to which it might lead, 
 — the temper of the old gentleman, natu- 
 rally warm, and his philosophy and pa- 
 tience not the most prominent features in 
 his character, — some allowance might be
 
 MODERN TIMES. ^ 
 
 made for a little extravagance on such an 
 occasion. 
 
 He was, indeed, grievously provoked ;; 
 and whilst his wife applied a thousand 
 abusive epithets to the fugitives, accom^- 
 panied by some reproaches for the indul- 
 gences which her husband had shewn ta 
 his quondam pupil, and the opportunities, 
 which, she said, he had given him, of 
 conversing with his daughter, while the 
 parson was poring over his books, or smok^ 
 ing his pipe, — the Doctor threw himself^ 
 on the grass plat before his door, and ut- 
 tered a whole Litany of maledictions in. 
 Greek, till the Baronet began to entertain 
 serious apprehensions that the disappoint- 
 ment had turned his brain. 
 
 Sir Philip was naturally a good-humour- 
 ed man, lively and cheerful in his dispo- 
 sition, and with such a share of the anU 
 c 5
 
 ^'4 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 7nal risibile, that at another time he would 
 have laughed heartily at such a scene; but, 
 on the present occasion, it came rather too 
 near home. However, as the parson con- 
 tinued his extravagances, the Baronet 
 could not forbear smiling, while he exhort- 
 ed his intended father-in-law to remember 
 thie doctrines of patience and submission, 
 which he had so often taught to others. 
 
 ^' I do, I do," said the Doctor ; " have 
 *^ I not again and again exerted the abi- 
 *^ lities with which Providence has been 
 *^ pleased to bless me, in the most serious 
 *^ and solemn admonitions, that pupils 
 *' should reverence their instructors ; and 
 ** children obey their parents ? " 
 
 Here Sir Philip interrupted him : — 
 "^ Well, Doctor, you find that your pu- 
 *^ pii has even exceeded the first part of
 
 MODERN TIMES. 35 
 
 " the commandment : he has extended 
 '' his love to your daughter ! " 
 
 ^^ Do not mock me. Sir Phihp ; I 
 ^^ am already provoked beyond endur- 
 '- ance. Mind what I say. Have I not 
 " amin and asain enforced the doctrine 
 " of the Apostle, by reproof, by rebuke, 
 " by exhortation ? In that sanctuary/' 
 pointing to the village church which stood 
 opposite to the garden in which this curious 
 scene was exhibited : ^' in that sanctuary, 
 '^ did I not on the last Sabbath, in order 
 ** to make the more striking impression on 
 *' the minds of all who heard me, and 
 *' especially on my daughter Catherine, 
 " did I not cast down the Church Bible 
 ** into the pew where she was sitting ? 
 " And that I might not be misunderstood 
 ** through affected pomp of expression, 
 c 6
 
 56 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *' did not I, with a mighty voice, demand, 
 ** in the vulgar tongue, " if you do not 
 ** ** mind your father and mother, who 
 ** *' the devil will you mind ? " 
 
 " It is that nonsensical vehemence of 
 •* yours," interrupted his wife, " which 
 *' made the girl always laugh at you in 
 *' the pulpit as well as out of it. My ad- 
 " vice was always given in a gentle and 
 " conciliating manner; and I^ who can not 
 " accuse myself of any neglect or inatten- 
 *>*^ 'tion, in the world ; who never suffered 
 *' them to be alone together without 
 ' *^ watching them : — never allowed David 
 '* to gaze upon her, nor Kate to help him 
 ** to any thing at table, lest it should lead 
 ** to improper familiarity between them, 
 ** have much more right to be angry with 
 ** her, than you, who, with all your re- 
 *^ hukes and exhortations, have many and
 
 MODERN TIMES. 37 
 
 •' many times sent them to pick strawber- 
 ** ries for you, whilst you were dosing in 
 *' the summer-house over your pipe ; and 
 ** even made them read plays together. — 
 " Nay, did you n6t once insist upon it that 
 '^ David should turn the story of Lavinia, 
 " in Thomson's Seasons, into Greek ; 
 " and then made him recite it before Kate 
 *^ in the midst of Farmer Wells's barley- 
 « field?" 
 
 " How often have I entreated you," said 
 the Parson, " never to revive that circum- 
 ^ stance in my recollection ? Does it not 
 '^ recal the anguish which I felt, when, 
 " with a degree of ferocity w^hich I had 
 '^ not imagined could exist in a fem.ale 
 " who has, for so many years, lived in 
 " communion with a man of such tender 
 " sensibilities as myself, you hanged my 
 *^ favourite dog, P'efo ! Was it not in the
 
 38 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ sjame evening, tlie twenty-fourth of 
 ^^ August, a season more melancholy to 
 ^^ me on that account, than for being the 
 " anniversary of the tremendous massa- 
 ^^ ere on the day of St. Bartholomew ! " 
 
 *^ Sir Phihp," continued the Doctor, for 
 a moment forgetting the loss of his daugh- 
 ter, in that of his dog. Veto, '^ you have 
 ^^ probably heard of the circumstance be- 
 " fore : " — " Yes," interrupted the lady, 
 *^ and of the phrenzy which followed it, 
 *^ even exceeding that which we have just 
 *^ now witnessed ; — this pious divine, Sir 
 " Philip, revenged the loss of a little 
 ^^ troublesome cur, which I put out of the 
 *^ way, because he killed my chickens and 
 *^ worried the ducks continually, and did a 
 " great deal of mischief besides : — this pa- 
 ^^ tient Christian pastor, as he often calls 
 " himself, took out his penknife and cut the
 
 MODERN TIMES. 39 
 
 " throatof my portrait which hung over the 
 ^^ parlour chimney ; and thus left a lasting 
 " monum.ent of the tender sensibilities of 
 " which you have just heard him boast." 
 
 ^^ Sir Philip," said the Doctor, " regard 
 " not the voice of that troublesome wo- 
 " man. Alas ! I am an unfortunate man : 
 '^ my cup is mingled with gall : where I 
 " look for comfort I find provocation, and 
 '^ instead of happiness, disappointment. 
 ** Did I not think of devoting this even- 
 " ing to the composition of an epithala- 
 ^^ mium, which that Welch boy(for, con- 
 " found him, he is a good scholar, — I am 
 " ashamed that I made him so) should 
 " have spoken upon your marriage with 
 *^ my daughter." 
 
 Sir Philip could scarcely refrain from 
 laughing. " Do hold your foolish tongue," 
 said the Doctor's wife, '" talk no mcare 
 " nonsense, I beseech you."
 
 40 MODERN TIMES* 
 
 ^^ Only one word more, my dear Bara- 
 " net," said the Doctor; " if they are 
 " not married, Kate shall still be yours ; 
 '^ she dare not disobey my commands : — 
 ^^ if she presume to oppose a father s will, 
 *^ let her be Anathema Maranatha." 
 
 Sir Philip could no longer preserve the 
 composure of his muscles ; and, therefore, 
 after shaking hands with the exasperated 
 divine, and telling him that he should be 
 happy to see him at Blackwood Hall, 
 when he was more tranquil, stepped into 
 his coach and returned home. 
 
 This disappointment being rather whim- 
 sical than serious, in a short time Sir 
 Philip used to relate an account of it, for 
 the purpose of amusing his friends ; and 
 the reverend Doctor rolling on the grass 
 plat, with the Greek Litany of anathemas^ 
 is still a favourite anecdote in the neigh- 
 bouihood.
 
 MODERN TIMES. -41 
 
 Sir Philip English appears to have cul- 
 tivated Ills estate, visited the neighbour- 
 ing gentry, fulfilled the duties of a magis- 
 strate, and officiated as foreman of the 
 grand jury at the assizes, for several 
 years, without manifesting any disposition 
 to enter into the bonds of wedlock. 
 
 However, about the period when he had 
 completed his forty-sixth year, the death 
 of a favourite nephew, to whom his estate 
 would otherwise have descended, influenc- 
 ed him to wish that there had been some 
 other heir to his estate rather than Jack 
 English, the next brother of the deceased. 
 He was directly opposite, in manners and 
 behaviour to the excellent youth whose 
 loss was severely felt by liis whole family ; 
 and though he possessed a good under- 
 standing, and much generosity, he was so 
 dissipated, careless, and extravagant, tliat
 
 42 MODERN TIxMES. 
 
 the descent of the family honours upon 
 him seemed to be their consignment to 
 oblivion, if not disgrace. 
 
 Sir Philip, therefore, once more looked 
 around in search of a partner to share his 
 fortune, and accept and perpetuate his 
 name. Just at this period, lie was induced, 
 from motives of friendship, to pay a visit 
 of condolence to the widow of a deceased 
 friend, who, by a fall from his horse in 
 hunting, had fractured his skull, and died 
 in a few days, in consequence of the acci- 
 dent. 
 
 He found the lady in great affliction, as 
 might naturally be expected on such an 
 occasion ; for she had always borne an 
 excellent character, and apparently lived 
 in the greatest happiness with her deceased 
 husband. Her youngest child was an in- 
 fant, not yet twelve months old, and the 
 elder about two years and a half.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 43 
 
 The sight of the widow in tears, and 
 particularly of her helpless little ones so 
 suddenly deprived of their father, who 
 was in the prime of life, sensibly affected 
 Sir Philip ; and when he offered his assist- 
 ance on any occasion, in which he could 
 promote her interest or comfort, he was 
 entirely prompted by the generosity of 
 his feelings, independent of every other 
 consideration. 
 
 Having, however, repeated his visit, in 
 consequence of the acceptance of his prof- 
 fered services, frequent opportunities of 
 conversing with the agreeable widow had 
 such an effect upon the mind of the Baro- 
 net, that he imperceptibly acquired a sin- 
 cere regard for her ; insomuch, as to deter- 
 mine him to make her an offer of his 
 hand and fortune, as soon as a decent 
 period of widowhood had elapsed.
 
 44 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 As the widow was left in affluent cir- 
 cumstances, and her children amply pro^ 
 vided fur. Sir Phihp felt no more antici.- 
 pation of disap})ointment on this occasion^ 
 than he had done v/hen he addressed him- 
 self to the old Rector. If, however, he 
 lost his first chance of a wife^, by entertain- 
 ing too high an opinion of his influence 
 over the lady and her family, he lost the 
 second by too great a degree of diffidence : 
 for whilst he was balancing in his own 
 mind_, whether the intimacy with the 
 widow entitled him to disclose his sen- 
 timents on such a subject earlier than 
 another man ; or whether that intimacy 
 did not impose upon him the necessity of 
 a greater degree of restraint, and rende? 
 it the more proper that he should defer 
 his intended addresses, at least until th^ 
 exj^iration of that period which custom
 
 MODERN TIMES. 45 
 
 has usually established for the duration of 
 mourning; — the widow, having fewer scru* 
 pies, decided for herself. One morning as ^ 
 Sir Philip was riding through the village, 
 at the extremity of which the mansion of 
 the widow was situated, tlie bells struck 
 up a merry peal, and the Baronet being 
 induced to inquire the occasion of it, was 
 surprized by the intelligence that his in- 
 tended bride had that morning bestowed 
 her hand upon a superannuated naval 
 officer. 
 
 This old fellow, who, to use the expres- 
 sion of Sir Philip, had nothing to support 
 him but a wooden leg and half-pay, having 
 none of the Baronet's hesitation or delica- 
 cy (indeed it must be confessed, that, as he 
 was only a slight acquaintance of the wi- 
 dow, he had no right to them), had boldly 
 preferred his suit the first time he saw the
 
 46 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 lady after the death of her husband, and 
 carried off a rich prize in the sight of the 
 enemy, notwithstanding his superior ad- 
 vantages. 
 
 It would be to deny the reahty of Sir 
 PhiHp's passion, if it should be asserted 
 that he was indifferent about the disposal 
 of the widow. He certainly was not : for 
 he had a sincere affection for her, founded 
 on a long established good opinion of her 
 virtue, integrity and prudence. But he 
 did not blame himself for having fully 
 proved the grounds of that favourable 
 opiuion, before he united himself to her 
 for life: and he concluded, with some 
 other old-fashioned persons of the last age, 
 that when a first husband is so very soon 
 forgotten, his successor has no great right 
 to flatter himself that he shall experience 
 greater constancy of affection. He there-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 4/ 
 
 fore, by degrees, reconciled himself to the 
 loss of the widow. Indeed, he felt less re- 
 gret at his second disappointment, than he 
 had done on the former occasion ; for the 
 sprightly lass, who had eloped from her 
 father's house at seventeen, proved a very 
 good \^ife ; but the discreet widov^^, who, 
 during' the life of her first husband, had 
 always maintained a reputation for superior 
 decorum and propriety, became, in the 
 end, a very termagant ; and the poor Cap- 
 tain often cursed his precipitation, and 
 declared that he v/ould sooner expose him- 
 self to the broadside of a first-rate man of 
 war, than a single volley from his wife's 
 tongue. 
 
 But although Sir Philip English had 
 been thus, by two very extraordinary acci- 
 dents, driven from the altar of H^^men, 
 and lost, by reiterated disappointment.
 
 48 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 all inclination for matrimony^, he was not 
 insensible to the influence of female 
 charms ; and notwithstanding he escaped 
 the grosser consequences of his amours, a 
 pretty brunette, who lived in a cottage on 
 Hitchfield Common, was often the com- 
 panion of his leisure hours. Ho\j''ever, 
 age, at length, crept on him ; and the Ba- 
 ronet becoming less regular in his visits to 
 Sally, and, perhaps, less bountiful in his 
 presents, when he did visit her, Sally, 
 in order to console herself for his neglect, 
 and to avoid the sneers of some of her 
 neighbours, who often addressed her with 
 the title of mi/ Lady, marched off with 
 the Serjeant of a recruiting party, and 
 left Sir Philip to perambulate his woods 
 alone, or to fill up his evenings with his 
 bottle, which Sally had for some time been 
 disposed to look upon as her most forini- 
 dable rival in the Baronet's affections.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 4^ 
 
 Blackwood Hall, which had undergone 
 but few alterations during more than half 
 a century, was a commodious mansion. 
 The Baronet's father and grandfather b id 
 resided in it, and left a name behi id 
 them for hospitality and good neighboar 
 hood, which Sir Philip endeavoured to 
 perpetuate, by an imitation of those qu - 
 lities which had endeared his ancestors to 
 the inhabitants of the district. 
 
 In this he succeeded so well, that there 
 was not a country squire, within thirty 
 miles, nor even a casual traveller, whose 
 appearance entitled him to be received into 
 a gentleman's house, who was ever at a 
 loss for a dinner, when within reach of 
 Blackwood. 
 
 Nor was it often necessary for them, on 
 such occasions, even to ring at the gate ; 
 for as the Baronet always made it his daily 
 
 mOL. I. D
 
 50 MODERN TIxMES. 
 
 practice, unless when he had been out 
 either hunting or coursing, to walk for a 
 quarter of an hour before the dinner-bell 
 rang, upon the terrace, in front of the 
 house, and within sight of the turnpike 
 road ; — if any one passing by, looked at 
 the house with an eye of curiosity or atten- 
 tion, or appeared to Sir Philip as if he 
 had leisure to halt, he was sure of an im- 
 mediate invitation ; and so earnest was 
 the Baronet, on such occasions, to display 
 his hospitality, that he might be said to 
 go out into the highivays and hedges in 
 search of guests ; and compel them to 
 come in. 
 
 Such were the prominent features of a 
 character, with which, it is presumed, the 
 reader will not be displeased to become 
 better acquainted ; for we can assure him 
 that tlie company of Sir Philip English
 
 MODERN TIMES. 51 
 
 was generally sought for^ by the inhabi- 
 tants of the neighbourhood in which he 
 lived, and who never thought their com- 
 pany complete, if the Baronet did not 
 make one of the party. 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNlVtRStTY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 53 MODEPwN TIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It would be an act of injustice to the rea- 
 der, as well as to the sister of Sir Philip 
 English, not to add a sketch of her histo- 
 ly to what has been already said, or ra- 
 ther written, respecting her brother. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows was introduced at the be- 
 p'inning of the volume in a light perhaps 
 not the most favourable for viewing her 
 character to advantage. She was repre- 
 sented as a female disputant, apt and even 
 eager for contradiction. 
 
 This, indeed, is not a very amiable pic- 
 ture ; but, if viewed with coolness and im- 
 partiality, it will be admitted that it might 
 Tiave been much more disgusting.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 53 
 
 However, without endeavouring to ex- 
 culpate the lady from the charge of loqua- 
 city, and even on some occasions of a per- 
 tinacious adherence to her own opinions, 
 the reader will be pleased to balance these 
 disadvantages, by placing in the opposite 
 scale her extensive information on all sub- 
 jects connected with domestic economy, 
 and whatever belongs to the improvement 
 of the female mind. 
 
 It can not be denied, that possessing^ or 
 believing tliat she possessed, a thorough 
 insight into these important affairs, and 
 moreover, having stored her mind and me- 
 mory with all that literary lore which is to 
 be obtained by a perusal of novels and ro- 
 mances, and those publications which re- 
 late to public amusements, such as the 
 descriptions given periodically of court- 
 dresses, balls, routs, fetes, masquerades, 
 D 3
 
 64 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 and the thousand heterogeneous amuse- 
 ments of a fashionable^ or as Sir PhiHp 
 English^ in spite of his sister's opinion, 
 would persist in calling it, a frivolous and 
 inconsistent age; it can not be denied, that 
 \v\i\\ all these advantages, real or supposed, 
 she is entitled to some excuse for occasion- 
 ally contradicting a country gentleman,who, 
 to repeat her own phrase^ although he sel- 
 dom looked into a book, unless his Family 
 Bible or the Racing Calendar, would still 
 undertake to maintain an argument re- 
 specting the blunders of a minister of states 
 or to prove, what he called the absurdity 
 of a lady's sitting by the fire-side, in the 
 day-time, wrapped in Siberian furs, and 
 going abroad at midnight dressed in trans- 
 parent muslin, fashioned a la Grecque, 
 
 Mrs. Burrows, who was perfectly ac- 
 quainted with such matters, for as she
 
 MODERN TIMES. 55 
 
 used to say, " whoever properly under- 
 " stands dress, must necessarily know 
 *^ something of commerce ; and whoever 
 " is acquainted with commerce, can not 
 " be totally ignorant of the law^s of na- 
 " tions, and the relative interest of Go- 
 " vernment," never was at a loss for words 
 to defend the ministry, or to justify the 
 cause of fashion, particularly in whatever 
 related to her own sex ; and thus wasted 
 many precious hours, which she could 
 have desired to employ in adding to her 
 immense stock of reading, in vain endea- 
 vours to make her brother Sir Philip at 
 least yield to her the palm of superiority 
 on those topics. 
 
 The misfortune was, that the Baronet 
 could never be completely discomfited. 
 He never acknowledged a defeat ; and at 
 every fresh onset, renewed the cliarge as 
 
 D 4
 
 5jS modern times. 
 
 if the last battle had made no impression 
 whatever. 
 
 The only triumph which his sister en- 
 joyed, was therefore in recounting to he\' 
 visitors, how she had attempted to subdue 
 her brother : or if no visitors happened to 
 come to Blackwood Hall, by repeating 
 the muster-roll of her arguments to her 
 maids^ when she retired to her own apart- 
 ment. 
 
 In the management of the domestic 
 concerns of the household. Sir Philip ne- 
 ver interfered : he sometimes turned away 
 a footman for impertinence, or a stable-boy 
 for neglecting his horses; but in all other 
 particulars committed the management of 
 the affairs of his establishment to Mrs. 
 Burrows and her deputies, the steward 
 and housekeeper. 
 
 Mrs, Burrows was about seven vears
 
 MODERN TIMES. of 
 
 older than the Baronet. She had once 
 been handsome ; and still possessed the 
 advantages of a good figure, and what is 
 usually called amongst the ladies, a genteel 
 carriage. 
 
 Early in life she had distinj^uished hei*- 
 selfj not only from her sisters, but from 
 the rest of the young ladies in the neigh- 
 bourhood of her father's seat, bv the ex- 
 tent of her naemory ; having, by way of a 
 voluntary task, learned by heart the whole 
 of Milton's Paradise Lost. 
 
 Afterwards she abandoned poetry for 
 prose ; tor, as she herself acknowledged, 
 she had got such a habit of remembering 
 all she read, that she was fearful of not 
 being able to express herself, even on or- 
 dinary occasions, but in verse. She there- 
 fore attempted to drive some of the poe- 
 .try out of her head by prosaic compositions. 
 
 D 5
 
 58 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 From the ancient tales of witches and 
 fairies, to the modern romances of desert 
 islands and haunted castles: from the 
 somewhat more authentic chronicles and 
 annals of Hollingshed and Strype, down 
 to The Mysteries of Udolpko, The Forest 
 of Comalva, and The Black Spirit of the 
 If^ije; she had perused every line, which 
 wit or dulness, a desire of fame, or a wish 
 for profit, had produced, in the shape of 
 novel or romance. 
 
 Whilst her mind was thus improved, it 
 became eccentric. She imperceptibly ac- 
 quired a volubility of expression which 
 was astonishing even to herself: and if 
 she could have properly arranged the ma- 
 terials, she had certainly laid in a stock 
 suffici-iii not only lo have re-furnished the 
 Alexandrian nbrary, but that immense 
 collection which has been of late years 
 t^tolen from the Vatican,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 59 
 
 Unfortunately^ however^ the mass be- 
 came more and more confused as it in- 
 creased in bulk. Her memory was a vast 
 warehouse^ destitute of order or assort- 
 ment : — the contents were preserved, in- 
 deed^ but not improved ; they did not pe- 
 rish ; but they were sometimes impaired 
 by being jumbled together : indeed, to pur- 
 sue the metaphor, the collection resem- 
 bled that of the celebrated shopkeeper in 
 Leadenhall Street, who always opened his 
 packages just as they had been set down 
 in his shop; never arranged any of the 
 articles, but made confusion, worse con- 
 founded, by throwing one parcel over ano- 
 ther, in order to find what he happened 
 to want. Just such was the store-room of 
 Miss Arabella English's brain. 
 
 Her father, Sir Hugh, was remarkably 
 fond of her, and although her mother was 
 D 6
 
 60 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 living, Miss Arabella usually presided at 
 the dinner table, and had the principal 
 management of the domestic arrange- 
 ments. 
 
 The reader will not^ perhaps, be sur- 
 prized to learn, that although Miss Eng- 
 lish had many admirers, or in other words, 
 that there ^vere many gentlemen who vi- 
 sited at her father's mansion, disposed to 
 make very civil, very polite, and even some 
 tender speeches to the young lady ; — there 
 was not found among them one who had 
 sufficient regard for her; or, perhaps, who 
 possessed sufficient courage to offer him- 
 self, seriously, on the footing of a lover. 
 
 Miss Arabella was conscious of the rea- 
 son of it herself; and used to say, that 
 men generally talked so much nonsense in 
 courtship, that they were always ashamed 
 when tliey found that what they said was
 
 MODERN TIMES. ^ 6l 
 
 sufficiently attended to, to occasion a re- 
 ply. That they knew she had a good me- 
 mory, and was not deficient in expression, 
 and were therefore afraid to approach her. 
 
 Be this as it may, whether she might 
 have been disposed to say too httle or too 
 much, or too much to the purpose, to 
 those who could have wished to become 
 her admirers, — it is certain that she re- 
 mained single till the age of thirty, when 
 an accidental circumstance procured her 
 a husband. 
 
 Sir Hugh English had been accustomed 
 to visit the Isle of Wight, with his family, 
 every summer. He had purchased a cot- 
 tage in the neighbourhood of West Cowes, 
 and fitted it up with great taste and ele- 
 gance. 
 
 Whilst he resided there, it was his con^ 
 stant custom, at every conveaient opportu-
 
 62 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 nity, to mix with the company who resort- 
 ed to the place ; for he was not one of those 
 who abstain from shewing civiHty to his 
 neighbours^ lest he should have too many 
 visitors. On the contrary. Sir Hugh en- 
 deavoured by a generous display of hospi- 
 tality, to render the place where he resid- 
 ed pleasant to every one, who was induced 
 either by business or pleasure to visit it : 
 and enjoyed more satisfaction from im- 
 parting to others a share of the good things 
 which had fallen to his own lot, than he 
 could have derived from the exclusive pos- 
 session of them ; besides the reciprocity 
 of good offices and civility to v/hich he 
 thus became entitled ; and which, whe- 
 ther he drew from the stock or not, he 
 considered as so much property laid up in 
 the bank of happiness. 
 
 After the death of Sir Hugh, Eallard
 
 MODERN TIMES.' 63 
 
 Cottage became the property of his rehct, 
 and she occasionally resided there for se- 
 veralmonthsintheyear^withherdaughters. 
 Oathe decease of Lady Enghsh, Sir Phi- 
 lip succeeded to it^ and as the utmost har- 
 mony always prevailed between the Baro- 
 net and his sisters^ they used to resort to it 
 in the summer^ as they had been accus- 
 tomed to do^ in the life of their father and 
 mother. 
 
 It happened that at one of the balls 
 which are occasionally given by the offi- 
 cers at Cov/es, Miss English was present. 
 Amongst the company was a genteel 
 young man, who had the appearance of 
 being an entire stranger : and as the as- 
 sembly at that time was not dignified by 
 a master of the ceremonies, the gentleman 
 being unknown, seemed to be excluded 
 almost from the hope of procuring a part-'
 
 64 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ncT for the diinces which were about to 
 commence. 
 
 Sir Phihp Enghsh, observi r.g that the 
 stranger appeared mortified at thus being 
 compelled to remain an idle spectator, — 
 with that urbanity which alwap distin- 
 guished him even from the beginning of 
 bis life to the end of it, — approached, and 
 asked him if he did not intend dancing. 
 
 The gentleman politely replied, that 
 having no acquaintance with any lady in 
 the room, he felt it very aukward to in- 
 troduce himself. 
 
 " My sister is not engaged/' said the 
 Baronet : " favour me with your name,. 
 " and I will present you to her." 
 
 The stranger announced his name, and 
 he was accordingly introduced by Sir Phi- 
 lip to Miss English ; and became her part- 
 ner Quring the w hole of the evening. He
 
 ilOOEHN TIMES. 65 
 
 danced remarkably well, and was so atten- 
 tive in helping her to refreshments, and 
 what was still more pleasing, — applauded 
 her remarks upon the dress of the ladies 
 and appearance of the gentlemen, with so 
 much politeness, that she would not have 
 changed her partner on any account. 
 
 Besides he was as well dressed as any 
 man in the room ; and, at least in the eye 
 of Miss Arabella, who called herself a 
 judge on such subjects, incomparably the 
 handsomest. 
 
 When the ball was over, the stranger 
 handed Miss English to her brothers 
 coach, which was in waiting; and Sir Phi- 
 lip, with his usual frankness and good^na- 
 ture ; — which qualities when mixed in due 
 proporticii. form a compound very nearly 
 allied to politeness, — immediately invited 
 the gentleman to step into the carriage^
 
 6*6 MODERN TIMES, 
 
 and accompany them to Ballard Cottage^ 
 '' where" added the Baronet, *' you shall 
 " drink a glass of as good Burgundy, as 
 ^' ever you tasted in your life." 
 
 The stranger, like a vveli-bred man, ac- 
 cepted the invitation, without hesitation 
 or reluctance, and with the same sort of 
 freedom with which it was offered : he had 
 been entertained very agreeably by the vi- 
 vacity of his partner, during the evening ; 
 and he thought he could not do better 
 than by closing it with a bumper of Bur- 
 gundy. 
 
 The Baronet performed his promise : 
 the wine was excellent ; and, in flavour, 
 would have done credit to the cellar of 
 Beauvais himself. 
 
 Sir Philip was so well pleased with the 
 conversation of his new acquaintance, that 
 it was almost day-light before he would
 
 MODERN TIMES. 6? 
 
 permit him to return to his lodgings ; and 
 the next day, when he called to pay the 
 usual compliments to his partner, to ex- 
 press his hopes that she was recovered from 
 the fatigue of the ball ; and had taken no 
 cold, and the like ; — the Baronet detained 
 him to dinner; and, to use his own words, 
 *^ in order to avoid the trouble of ceremo- 
 " ny," told him, that he should always 
 find a knife and fork at his table, when- 
 ever he was not better engaged, and would 
 favour him with his company, during his 
 abode in the Isle of Wight. 
 
 The stranger occasionally availed him- 
 self of this hospitable invitation ; but in 
 such a manner as to evince, that in his 
 compliance with the wishes of the Baronet, 
 he was actuated bv a desire to oblis^e, and 
 not by any mean or selfish motive. 
 
 With regard to Miss English, he neither
 
 6b modern times. 
 
 sought for any opportunity of giving him- 
 self a figure in her eye, nor paid any par- 
 ticular attentions to her, more than to her 
 younger sisters ; much less did he aspire 
 to the hope of an alliance with a person 
 so much his superior by birth and station. 
 
 It is true, he paid a becoming deference 
 to her opinions, and often said handsome 
 things to her, upon her taste and judg- 
 ment : but these she considered to be justly 
 due to her ; and received them as a cus • 
 tomary homage, and by no means indi- 
 cative of any particular sentiments of par- 
 tiality on his side. 
 
 Her sisters, indeed, often rallied Miss 
 Arabella, about her handsome partner ; 
 but neither they, nor he, had any idea of 
 the effects which his regular, uniform, and 
 unaffected attentions had made upon her 
 mind.
 
 MODERN TIME*. 6^ 
 
 Miss Arabella, who had read all the 
 various accounts which have been com- 
 mitted to print, on the nature of the ten- 
 der passion, and knew it by description as 
 well as she could have known a lion or a 
 lily, provided she had never seen either 
 of them but on paper, now perceived an 
 alteration in herself which she could not 
 account for ; and felt that she could neither 
 look upon the stranger with the same in- 
 difference, with which she had, at first, 
 conversed \Wth him, nor bear his absence, 
 without some degree of anxiety, — without, 
 in some measure, connecting the idea of 
 his safety with her own happiness. 
 
 She was not a novice ; and as she was 
 too proud to dissemble her feelings, so was 
 she also too prudent to avow them^inne- 
 cessarily. 
 
 The line o( conduct, wjiich she there-
 
 70 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 fore pursued, was such as might have 
 enabled any person, endowed with a mo- 
 derate share of penetration, to have dis- 
 covered her real sentiments ; but without 
 affording the slightest grounds for attribut- 
 ing to her either prudery or affectation. 
 
 It was not until some time afterwards, 
 that the stranger perceived the progress 
 which he was making in her good opinion ; 
 but he had too much honour to take any 
 unbecoming advantage of her partiality in 
 his favour ; and too much good sense and 
 discretion to aspire to a connexion to 
 which he foresaw an insuperable difficulty, 
 in the objections which he anticipated on 
 the part of the Baronet^ and the rest of 
 the lady's family. 
 
 At lengthy however^ the time approach^ 
 ed, at which he was to take leave of the 
 friendly Sir Philip, the delights of Ballard
 
 MODERN TIMES. 7I 
 
 Cottage, and the Garden of England, in 
 which he had passed his time so agreeably. 
 The evening before his intended depar- 
 ture, he called to drink tea at the cottage ; 
 and if he had. been inclined to have em- 
 braced an opportunity of declaring those 
 sentiments which, for the reason before- 
 mentioned, he wished rather to conceal ; 
 or of coming to an explanation of what 
 he had no occasion to inquire, — the real 
 «tate and condition of Miss English's heart, 
 such an one now presented itself. Sir 
 Philip was gone with a party of his friends 
 to dine on board the Royal Sovereign, 
 then lying at St. Helens ; and the younger 
 branches of the family were on a tour through 
 the island, and not expected at Cowes for 
 several days ; so that, if he had desired a 
 tete-a-tete with Miss English this seemed 
 a most auspicious moment.
 
 72 MODERN T!ME!«>. 
 
 But, whatever might be his wishes, he 
 had entertained no such intention ; nor 
 had there been any thing in his manner 
 which could have indicated pecuhar un- 
 easiness at the apj)roaching separation. 
 Not so with Miss Enghsh : sh^ calculated 
 every hour as bringing her nearer to the 
 period when the white sails of the packet, 
 in which her handsome partner was to be^ 
 conveyed from Vecta's shores, should be 
 hoisted to the gale. She thought that she 
 perceived a tenderness in his manner, 
 which bespoke a lover s solicitude to cul- 
 tivate the favour of his mistress : but not 
 one word had ever escaped him, which 
 could be construed into an avowal or proof 
 of such a sentiment. 
 
 Arabella, however, believed that her 
 own mind was constituted in a manner 
 very different from that of other youug
 
 MODERN TIMES. Jo 
 
 women. She felt, or thought she felt, a 
 vast degree of superiority ; and, hke other 
 eccentrics, beUeved that she had a right to 
 act in a manner very dlffereyit from the 
 generahty of the world, without incurring 
 the imputation of impropriety. 
 
 When her visitor arrived, she was em- 
 ployed, as usual, in reading a novel, and 
 on his coming into the room immediately 
 presented him with the book ; and desired 
 him to peruse the section at which she had 
 folded down a leaf. 
 
 It was a description of two persons 
 having a mutual regard for each other, but 
 who had each a secret reason for not dis- 
 closing the sentiment. In the novel, the 
 advantages of birth and fortune were on 
 the side of the man. 
 
 He was at no loss to perceive the inten- 
 tion of Arabella, in having submitted the 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 MODERN TIxMES. 
 
 passage to his perusal He looked sted- 
 fastly at her, and with great respect, clos- 
 ing the book at the same time, said : " I 
 *^ am not insensible. Madam, to tlie ho- 
 ^^ nour and happiness of having conversed 
 ^' with you, and, I flatter myself, acquired 
 " your good opinion ; but, indeed, this 
 *^ lesson was unnecessary, to one who feels 
 " all which it describes ; under, hov/ever, 
 ^^ a reverse of circumstances, which ren- 
 '^ del-s it impossible for him to hope for so 
 " happy a conclusion as that which is 
 '^ described in the novel. 
 
 " There are circumstances, Madam, 
 •^ which render it imprudent, nay, im- 
 '^ possible^ for me to say what I could de- 
 '' sire to have expressed on this occasion : 
 ^^ but, be assured, that I am incapable of 
 '^ acting so dishonourably as to subject
 
 MODERN TIMES. 7^ 
 
 " you to proposals which it would be an 
 '' insult for me to make. 
 
 " Allow me^ also, to assure you, that 
 ^^ neither time nor absence can efface tlie 
 " regard and attachment which I ^^^e\ ; 
 ^^ but the only method of proving that I 
 ^^ am worthy of a continuance of your 
 '' favourable opinion, is by flying from a 
 " place in which I can no longer conceal 
 ^* the feelings which I dare not avow." 
 
 He made a low, and very graceful, bow, 
 and immediately quitted the house. 
 
 Miss English neither could upbraid him 
 with insensibility, nor would blame ber- 
 self for having brought about a disclosure, 
 which, it was evident, would not have been 
 voluntarily made. 
 
 Although it was late when the Baronet 
 reached the cottage, as he knew that his 
 friend was to leave Cowes the next day he 
 E 2
 
 76 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 was a little disappointed to find that he had 
 taken leave so soon, and was beginning to 
 express some displeasure that his sister 
 had not detained him;, until his return 
 from St. Helen's, — when a letter was 
 brought in by the servant, to announce 
 that it was his intention to have postponed 
 his departure, for the purpose of thanking 
 Sir Philip for his kind hospitality ; but, 
 that he had received, by express, an ac- 
 count of the dangerous illness of a relation, 
 which, he trusted, would be a sufficient 
 excuse for having omitted that which ;he 
 felt it to be an act of duty to perform. 
 
 ^^ He is as good a fellow as ever I met 
 " with," said the Baronet ; '' I hope his 
 ^^ relation is worth the risque he runs in 
 *^ crossing the water this stormy night ; 
 '^ and that he will get a good legacy to 
 ^^ reward him for his courage ; for, by
 
 MODERN TIMES. 77 
 
 ^^ my soul^ I would not even go to dine 
 " on board the ship of a lord high ad- 
 " miral in such weather as this, if I had 
 ^•' known what a roughish gale, as the 
 •^ sailors vouchsafe to call it, would have 
 ^^ blown to night." 
 
 This information, coupled with her 
 brother s remark, was not at all calculated 
 to allay the anxiety of Miss Arabella, on 
 the present occasion ; and she took an ear- 
 ly opportunity of retiring to her chamber ; 
 but, instead of attempting to compose 
 herself to rest, read over and over the 
 account of Narcissa, and the shipwreck 
 of Roderick Random. 
 
 E 3
 
 73 MODERN TIMES, 
 
 CHAPTEll IV. 
 
 At the ccmmencement of the ensuinjc 
 winter, Miss English and her sisters re- 
 ceived a pressing invitation from a relation 
 of their mother, to pass a few weeks with 
 her in London. 
 
 She was the widow of a Turkey mer- 
 chant, and being left in very affluent cir- 
 cumstances, kept her coach and a hand- 
 some establishment, but, without quitting 
 her house in Broad-street, where her de- 
 ceased husband had formerly aeqr/ired the 
 means of supporting her in so much 
 splendor. 
 
 Young ladies, immured in the countiy 
 almost continually, seldom want many 
 entreaties to prevail upon them to take a
 
 MODERN TIMES. 7^ 
 
 journey to London. Miss English, though 
 not young, was, perhaps, the more desi- 
 rous of visiting the metropolis at this time, 
 because^ although the handsome stranger 
 had never once mentioned the name of 
 the street in which he lived, she knew 
 that he was an inhabitant of the metropo- 
 lis : and therefore, although the chances 
 of seeing him during her stay in town 
 scarcely admitted a conjecture, much less 
 a calculation, she yet hoped that Fortune, 
 by one of those unaccountable tricks which 
 €he sometimes plays, might possibly throw 
 him in her way. 
 
 She had, moreover, the satisfaction of 
 an opportunity to add, by considerable 
 purchases, which she never failed to make 
 whenever she visited the metropolis, to 
 her immense collection of novels and ro- 
 mances. 
 
 E 4
 
 fO MODERN TIMES. 
 
 During her visit to Mrs. Senac, that 
 ]ady had received tickets for a ball at the 
 Mansion-Kouse, which she resolved to 
 attend^ and insisted that the Misses English 
 should accompany herself and daughter. 
 
 This circumstance revived the idea of 
 the handsome stranger in the minds of 
 lier sisters (from whom she had sedulously 
 concealed all the thouo;hts of her heart, 
 on the same subject) and they rallied her 
 on the chance of meeting with him again 
 on this occasion. 
 
 Mrs. Senac, who had as much curiosity 
 as any elderly lady in the whole city of 
 London, was very desirous of knowing 
 the particulars of the affair, and on the 
 adventure being related, gravely remarked, 
 that she did not think there w^as any thing 
 in it, to subject her cousin to the ridicule 
 of any body ; as it appeared, even from
 
 MODERN TIMES. 81 
 
 the confession of the young ladies them- 
 seh^Sj that the gentleman was both hand- 
 some and polite. She said that she hoped, 
 if he should be thrown in the way of Miss 
 English again, that she would not be de- 
 terred by any reflexions of her sisters from 
 accepting him for a partner^ although he 
 had not presented them with his pedigree 
 or his rent-roll. 
 
 " Indeed," said the old lady bridling 
 up, " there are many rich men in this city 
 ^^ who would be unwilling to have it 
 " known that they had been present at. a 
 " country hop ; and, perhaps^ Miss Ca- 
 ^^ roline English," (for that was thenamepf 
 the second daughter) ^'^ you yourself might 
 '^ not be sorry to meet with an offer from 
 *' a fifty thousand pound man, with good 
 *' credit upon 'Change, although your 
 *' brother is a Baronet." 
 E 5
 
 82 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " Madam," said Miss Arabella, '' I feel 
 " myself 1 crioured by your advice at any 
 '^ time ; but I assure you that I want no 
 ^^ proD^pting to induce me to follow my 
 ^^ o'vvn inclinations on such an occasion. 
 *^ My sisters may rally me as much as 
 ^^ they please : — they are, perhaps, a lit- 
 *^ tie jealous of the preference which this 
 '^ handsome man, as they call him, has 
 *^ thought proper to shew towards your 
 " humble servant : but this is very natu- 
 " ral, and very well known, for it is de- 
 *^ scribed over and over again, in many 
 ^^ excellent novels which I have read, and 
 *^ which may, perhaps, have fallen into 
 " your own hands. I forgive them with 
 " all my heart ; and, the only revenge 
 " which I intend to take, shall be to 
 " marry this same handsome man, if he
 
 MODERN TIMES. 83 
 
 '^ should ever think it worth his while to 
 ^* make me an offer. 
 
 '^ With respect to his family, I shall 
 " not object to him if he be not sprang 
 ^^ from Attila the Hun ; no, not even if 
 " he were without father, without mo- 
 ^' ther, without descent at all. I am of 
 *^ opinion, that, although happiness may 
 *^ sometimes depend on a decent compe- 
 '* tency, it is seldom increased by great 
 *^ riches, and never by a coat of arms." 
 
 Here the conversation terminated; and 
 the ladies retired to their respective apart- 
 ments, to dress for the ball. 
 
 Among the multitudinous articles of 
 female dress, useful and ornamental, re- 
 quired on such an occasion ; there is scarce- 
 ly any more necessary, in order to prepare 
 for dancing, than — a pair of shoes : — a^jd, 
 these happened to have been forgotten by 
 E 6
 
 84 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 Miss English. She had been all that day, 
 and, indeed, for the greater part of the 
 preceding week, either assisting others by 
 her counsel, or inventing a variety of taste- 
 ful decorations suitable to the occasion. 
 Unfortunately, hovt^ever, she suffered her 
 attention to this important business to be 
 interrupted for full two hours by the ro- 
 mance of Diapomboscvlis, — which had 
 just made its appearance, and attracted 
 her notice by the terrific frontispiece at- 
 tached to it, and displayed in all its hor- 
 rors, at the very next window to that of 
 the shop at which she was about to have 
 purchased a pair of finely embroidered 
 shoes. 
 
 She hastily pulled the string, descend- 
 ed from her carriage, and was so much 
 entranced by the wonders of the work, 
 the murderous scenes of blood and slaugh-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 85 
 
 ter^ and the pomp of horror which it most 
 admirably displayed, that she became an 
 immediate purchaser^ but could not quit 
 the shop, until she had nearly finished 
 the perusal of the book, and, thus engaged^, 
 forgot the ball and the embroidered shoes. 
 
 To supply this deficiency, a servant was 
 dispatched in great haste to the nearest 
 shoemaker, with directions for him to 
 attend at Mrs. Senac's immediately, with 
 some of the most fashionable articles used 
 on such occasions. 
 
 Mrs. Senac was a lady of so much con- 
 sequence in her own opinion, and even in 
 the estimation of that ward of the city 
 in which she lived, where she was gene- 
 rally known, if not universally respected, 
 as the leader of fashions, and the exem 
 plar of magnificence, that the master of 
 the shop immediately attended in his own
 
 86 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 person, with an elegant assortment of the 
 articles required. 
 
 Miss Engl.sh was in her dressing room, 
 attended by her maid servant. Mrs. Se- 
 nac had left the apartment only a moment 
 before the arrival of the shoemaker. He 
 was immediately admitted, — when, who 
 can imagine the mutual astonishment of 
 Miss Arabella and Mr. Burrows, at a 
 meeting so unexpected I 
 . The lady had sufficient presence of 
 mind to send her servant out of the room 
 immediately, under some pretext or other; 
 and then with a degree of composure 
 which she would not have possessed, but 
 for the aid of her recollection, which in- 
 stantaneously furnished her with a number 
 of similar incidents, — said: *'We are both 
 " very foolish to be so much confused, Mr. 
 " Burrows: I hope you are well; but.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 8^ 
 
 " this is not a proper time for explanation. 
 " I am going to the Mansion-House ball, 
 ^^ and as you are a citizen, though you 
 *^ were too proud to acknowledge it, per- 
 *^ haps you will be there also." 
 
 Poor Burrows was so much confused, 
 that he was almost incapacitated from 
 making any reply. " For heaven's sake, 
 ^' my dear Miss English ! most admirable 
 " of women ! let me entreat your forgive- 
 *•' ness : — it never was my intention to be 
 *^ guilty of dissimulation ; but — but — >" 
 " You are not married," said Arabella, 
 almost ready to faint. " No ! No ! " ex- 
 claimed Burrows still more confused : — 
 " do not wrong me by supposing me ca- 
 
 " pable of " " There is no time 
 
 " for parley," interrupted Miss Arabella, 
 " Mrs. Senac will be with us' in a mo- 
 " ment; and I hear the maid on the
 
 88 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ stairs. Withdraw, this instant, — you 
 " know whither I am going." 
 
 Burrows was almost petrified with asto- 
 nishment ; and unable to arrange his ideas 
 so as to give them utterance. He remain- 
 ed, for a minute or two, immoveable ; but 
 perceiving the door opening, made his 
 bow, and ran down stairs, leaving the 
 whole bundle of shoes on the table, exactly 
 as he had brought them from home. 
 
 ^' Where is the man going in such a 
 " fluster ? " muttered Jane to herself, as 
 she entered the dressing-room : '^ he was 
 " very near pushing me down stairs." 
 
 " He has made some mistake, I sup- 
 " pose," said Arabella, assuming an air 
 of as much indifference as she could; '^ but 
 ^' let us examine the parcel." 
 
 On opening it. Miss English, who w^as 
 now more anxious to get to the Mansion-
 
 MODERN TIMES. - 89 
 
 House^ than fastidious about the orna- 
 ments of her person^ saving for the pur- 
 pose of doing honour to the choice of her 
 partner, soon fixed upon a pair of shoes 
 of dove-coloured sattin, embroidered with 
 silver; which, although they did not exact- 
 ly fit, were, she thought, by far the pret- 
 tiest she had ever seen. 
 
 Mrs. Senac, her daughter, and the 
 young ladies, being now ready to accom- 
 pany her, they proceeded to the Mans ion- 
 House. 
 
 Miss English was, at that period, a 
 handsome woman ; and a commanding 
 figure, added to her natural hauteur, ren- 
 dered her conspicuous in every company. 
 
 After much labour and fatigue, and in- 
 numerable interruptions from the pressure 
 of the crowd, Mrs. Senac and her party 
 arrived at the ball room. The old lady
 
 90 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 was the best person in the world to be the 
 leader on such an occasion. She had natu- 
 rally a masculine spirit^ was never intimi- 
 dated at imaginary difficulties;, and seldom 
 dismayed by real danger ; and knew no- 
 thing, by experience, of those delicate 
 sensibilities which perpetually disturb the 
 pleasure, and interrupt the enjoyment of 
 the company in large parties, by fainting 
 fits, and vapourish affectation. 
 
 In stature, she was above the common 
 standard, and as she advanced in years, 
 had grown amazingly corpulent : but her 
 limbs being naturally strong, she still 
 possessed a considerable degree of activity, 
 and bustled through the throng, by which 
 the staircase was crowded, with less dis- 
 composure, than most of the ladies at the 
 balL 
 
 Miss English, who had walked imme-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 91 
 
 diately behind her Amazonian, or perhaps, 
 rather, Patagonian friend, — was, by the 
 very laws of motion, protected from the 
 immediate pressure of the surrounding 
 crowd, and thus escaped the inconvenien- 
 ces and accidents which many of the com- 
 pany, and amongst them Miss Margaret 
 Enghsh, and Miss Priscilla Senac, unfor- 
 tunately experienced. The former of these 
 ladies was nearly deprived of her head- 
 dress, by a rede fellow who seized hold of 
 a flying lap})el, as she passed by him ; and 
 she v/as afterwards unable to adjust it, so as 
 to be at all comfortable during the e\ien- 
 ing : — and Miss Senac, not only had her 
 gown torn, but actually lost one of her 
 shoes, so as to be precluded the possibility 
 of dancing, — an amusement of which she 
 was remarkably fond. 
 
 The weather was rather warm, even
 
 92 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 out of doors ; and the assemblage of per- 
 sons in the ball-room and adjacent apart- 
 ments so numerous^ that in half an hour 
 after the dancing had commenced, the com- 
 pany was almost suffocated by the heat. 
 
 Mrs. Senac, who possessed a greater 
 fondness for finery, than is, perhaps, quite 
 becoming in a lady of her years, either 
 disregarded the effect of the climate, which 
 she was to encounter, or, perhaps, thought 
 that the company would shrink from the 
 resplendent blaze of her appearance, and 
 thus leave a cooler atmosphere around her, 
 so that she should experience less of the 
 heat, in consequence of appearing to be 
 the focus from which it was disseminated. 
 
 Perhaps she had read the opinion of a 
 celebrated astronomer, who supposes that 
 the sun itself is a body even colder than 
 ice : and, by parity of reasoning, might
 
 MODERN TIMES. Q3 
 
 pei^suade herself, that the hotter she ap* 
 peared in the sight of others, she should 
 be, in realiti/, so much the cooler. Be 
 this as it may, whether influenced by phi- 
 losophy or fancy, or astronomical or solar 
 analogy, or by some other less elevated 
 notion, such as borrowing the comparison 
 between the flaming piony or dazzling sun- 
 flower and the chilling snow-drop, which, 
 notwithstanding their diflTerence of appear- 
 ance, are exactly of the same temperature ; 
 so it was, that she appeared at the ball- 
 room to the terror of some, and the admi- 
 ration of many, in a rich dress of marigold- 
 coloured sattin, covered with a net of sil- 
 ver foil ; a head-dress of immense height, 
 with a profusion of diamonds ; and wear- 
 ing an aigrette of sapphires, rubies, and 
 emeralds. 
 
 After this description, it is almost super-
 
 94 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 fluous to add, that she shone conspicuoug 
 even at my Lord Mayors ball. 
 
 The company, it has been already stated, 
 was unusuiilly numerous on this occasion ; 
 for the chief magistrate happened to have 
 acquired great popularity; andalthough the 
 Mansion-House is seldom deserted at a city 
 feast, whatsoever may have been the offi- 
 cial conduct of the Lord Mayor, the office 
 had been filled in such a manner as to 
 ffive general satisfaction to all parties, who 
 willingly testified their respect for his 
 Lordship by devouring his provisions with 
 the greatest assiduity. 
 
 Heliogabalus might himself have blush- 
 ed if he had seen the immense profusion 
 of viands collected from every part of the 
 globe, even from the Frozen Ocean and 
 both the Tropics, to swell the catalogue of 
 dainties provided for the feast. But, if
 
 MODERN TIMES. 9^ 
 
 thnt renowned emperor had been seated at 
 the right hnn*^l of proud London's proud 
 Lord Mayor, — and liad witnessed the dis- 
 play of truly 11 ritish appetite, by a set of 
 comely personages in mazarine gowns^ liis 
 surprise at the quantity of provisions 
 would have given place to apprehensions, 
 lest there should be nothing left for the 
 rest of the company: or, perhaps, he 
 would have made the same mistake as 
 that which is related of the celebrated 
 Omai, who, on a similar occasion, in- 
 quired if the men in blue robes had^^^-^ 
 bellies ; really imagining that they were 
 specially appointed to clear the table of 
 the provisions, that nothing might be lost. 
 The ball was opened by his late Royal 
 
 Highness the Duke of and the 
 
 Lady Mayoress ; and, as many persons of 
 great distinction were present, the city
 
 96. 
 
 MODERN TIxMES, 
 
 ladies were extremely anxious for the mo- 
 ment when country dances should begin, 
 that they might '^^ trip it on the light fan- 
 *^ tastic toe/' in their very best manner ; 
 for as Mrs. Senac said to the young ladies, 
 before they left Broa-d Street, " wlio can 
 ' possibly tell what may be the conse- 
 '' quences of a ball ? It often brings per- 
 ^' sons together, who might otherwise 
 "^ never have met ; and lays the founda- 
 *' tion for alliances which might never 
 " have been thought of." 
 
 Several gentlemen, attracted by the 
 blaze of Mrs. Senac's jewels, and suppos- 
 ing Miss English in some degree con- 
 nected with so much wealth, requested 
 the honour of dancing with her ; but she 
 made a variety of excuses, and evaded 
 their importunity, although not without 
 some difficulty, particularly as Mrs. Se- 
 nac repeatedly commended the elegance
 
 MODERN TIMFS. 97 
 
 of one, and the dress of another, a iiong 
 the different beaus who solicited the ho- 
 nour of Miss Arabella's hand, and who 
 invariably complimented the old lady 
 in passing, as she kept close to Miss Eng- 
 lish, and they therefore naturally ^upp >^- 
 ed her to stand in some degree of relation- 
 ship to the lady whom they addressed. 
 
 Miss Caroline En dish was soon en agr- 
 ed ; but, her partner vrpis so aukward, and 
 distorted himself by a thousand gesticjia- 
 tions so ridiculously, that she was heartily 
 tired of him ; and almost determined to 
 sit down, as soon as the first dance was 
 over. 
 
 Poor Miss Margaret was compelled to 
 remain a sedentary spectator, on account 
 of the loss she had sustained in ascending 
 the staircase to the ball-room ; and Miss 
 Priscilla Senac danced with a very corpu- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 lent gentleman, who, twirled her about 
 with so much velocity, that she was al- 
 most killed fiy the heat. 
 
 After two or three dances had been 
 gone through, and Miss English had aban- 
 doned almost all hopes of seeing Mr. Bur- 
 rows, who, she had supposed, would gladly 
 avail himself of such an opportunity of 
 conversing with her; and, just as she had 
 brought her mind into a condition for be- 
 lieving that, in the agitation of the mo- 
 ment, she had not spoken distinctly 
 enough for him to have heard where she 
 might be found, — two gentlemen ap- 
 proached her; — one of them an eminent 
 solicitor, who occasionally visited Mrs. 
 Senac, and the other a person so very 
 oiitrd in his appearance, that she was asto- 
 nished when, on his being introduced as 
 Lord Kilberry, his lordship requested
 
 MODERN TIMES. 99 
 
 that she would do him the great honour 
 of going down a dance with him. 
 
 It was impossible to conceive him igno- 
 rant of the ridicule to w4iich he w^oiild 
 thus render himself liable ; and the parti- 
 cular observation to which it would also 
 expose his partner. But Miss English, 
 whose romantic imagination was an excel- 
 lent substitute for the courage requisite to 
 encounter the eye* of every person in the 
 room, on such an occasion, w^ould have 
 been more than half inclined to comply 
 with his lordship's request, at the first 
 word, if she had not still entertained a 
 faint hope that she had yet some chance of 
 a much handsomer partner. 
 
 It will be very provoking, said she in 
 
 her own mind, if Burrows should arrive 
 
 just as I am preparing to lead this ape 
 
 down the dance. The very thought gave 
 
 F 2
 
 100 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 an additional stimulus to her eccentric fan- 
 cy; and as his Lordship very earnestly 
 repeated his sohcitations^ she said, — with 
 a significant sniiie at Mrs. Senac, who 
 could scarcely refrain from laughing, that 
 having refused several partners, she was 
 afraid it might not be perfectly correct for 
 lier to accept the honour w^hich his Lord- 
 ship intended her ; but, as her own name 
 had not been announced to either of them, 
 she still thought herself at liberty to take 
 one dance with his Lordship, particularly 
 2t the instance of Mrs. Senac's friend. 
 
 Lord Kilberry bowed very low, and 
 drawing on his gloves, gallantly handed 
 his partner to her proper place, ready for 
 the commencement of the ensuing dance. 
 ' Every eye was immediately fixed on the 
 extraordinary couple, and the self com- 
 placence and effrontery with which the
 
 MODERN TIMES. lOl 
 
 little lord sustained their glances was not 
 more surprising than the air of indifference 
 assumed by Miss Arabella, who, instead of 
 giving way to any improper levity of 
 manner, which might have countenanced 
 the idea that she intended to exhibit her 
 partner as an object of ridicule, or to that 
 mauvaise hcnte which is embarrassed by 
 every look which it does not perfectly com* 
 prehend, maintained the utmost degr<^ 
 of composure, and seemec} wholly uncon- 
 scious of any difference between his Lord- 
 sliip and any other gentleman in the 
 room. 
 
 With how much difficulty she was ena- 
 
 ml 
 
 bled to sustain such a conspicuous part in 
 tlie farce, the reader may, perhaps, bet« 
 ter imagine, when he is informed that 
 Lord Kilberry was about four ^eet two 
 inches hir;'h : that is^ — measuring from 
 
 F 3
 
 102 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 about the tip of his right ear, which, in 
 consequence of his head being forced out 
 of its proper place by the encroachment 
 of the shoulder of the same side, and the 
 proportionable declension of the left arm, 
 was become the apex or superior part of 
 this human pyramid. 
 
 Such being the unfortunate twist which 
 had injured the symmetry of his Lordship's 
 figure, the centre of gravity would have 
 been necessarily lost, if nature had not 
 kindly contrived to furnish an equipoise 
 in an immense protuberance in the rear of 
 the shoulder blade, which when viewed 
 at a distance, made him pretty nearly re- 
 semble the figure of ^neas in the print in 
 Ogilby's Virgil, where he is represented 
 carrying his father on his back. 
 
 A learned anatomist, indeed, who made 
 this very excrescence the subject of a long
 
 MODERN TIMES. 103 
 
 dissertation read before a certain society , 
 entertained an opinion v,hich renders this 
 simile remarkably appropriate ; for he be- 
 heved that nature had originally intended 
 the production of a twin brother, who, 
 having been interrupted in his progress 
 towards perfection, had been eventually 
 tmnsferred to his little Lordship, in this 
 identical excrescence, and thus became 
 still more close l2^ allied to him. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that 
 this opinion, although supported by many 
 ingenious arguments, was not unanimously 
 received by the society ; many of the 
 members being rather inclined to think, 
 agreeable to the notions of that great phi- 
 losopher and physiologist Lord Mon- 
 boddo, that the said lump was designed 
 for a tail, but had unfortunately grown 
 in the wrong place. 
 
 F 4
 
 104 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 This sketch of the phm and elevalioii 
 of Lord Kilberry*s upper story would 
 convey a very imperfect idea of the effect 
 produced in viewing his Lordship's fea- 
 tures, form, and figure en masse^ if it 
 were not: accompanied by a description of 
 his arms and legs. And here Nature, who, 
 is said to do nothing in vain, had exhibit- 
 ed an example of that impartial distribu- 
 tion of her favours which has been so often 
 celebrated. 
 
 For what might have been considered 
 by some, in the light of parsimony with 
 regard to the stature of the noble Lord, 
 was counterbalanced by profusion in the 
 gift of a pair of han3s superior in dimen- 
 sions to those of the eklest son of Anak. 
 
 To complete the whole, Nature had 
 kindly diminished the length of the leg on 
 that side which had sprouted up so exube-
 
 MODEPwN TIMES. 105 
 
 rantly at the point of the shoulder, and 
 the heel-bone, which, perhaps, might have 
 raised the figure too much, if it had re- 
 mained in its usual place, was transferred 
 to the contrary side. 
 
 It unfortunately happened on this occa- 
 sion, as, perhaps, is sometimes the case 
 at other polite assemblies, that those who 
 attended the Lord Mayor s ball were not 
 all philosophers ; and the company, instead 
 of balancing the advantages which have 
 been recapitulated in the above sketch, 
 laughed immoderately at the appearance 
 of Lord Kilberry, until his partner was 
 almost infected by the contagion of an 
 •example which was followed by almost 
 every one present, with that sort of invo- 
 luntary alacrity, with which, as the Spec- 
 tator or some other writer says, if half a 
 dozen men are talkipg together, and one 
 F 5
 
 106 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 speaks of his beard, all the rest imme- 
 diately put their hand to their chin. 
 
 The dance lasted longer than it would 
 otherwise have done, in consequence of 
 the numerous interruptions occasioned by- 
 unsuccessful efforts of some of the com- 
 pany to restrain the merriment of each 
 other within the bounds of decorum : 
 and, it was very remarkable ; at least, in 
 the opinion of the observant Arabella, 
 who saw every thing, heard every thing, 
 and affected to understand nothing, of 
 what was passing, — that persons of every 
 laiik, were on this occasion equally affect- 
 ed by the cacoethes ridendi ; and seemed 
 alike incapable of commanding their own 
 muscles^ whilst they beheld the contor- 
 tions and distortions of the muscles of 
 Lord Kilberry. 
 
 Thus, from the lisping Lord, who, with
 
 MODERN TIMES. 10^ 
 
 vacant and goggling stare, seemed to re- 
 gard every thing around him with as 
 much surprise as if he had been in Noah's 
 ark, to the prim citizen's youngest booby, 
 who had just emerged from behind the 
 counter, prepared to admire every thing 
 he saw, the universal object of attention 
 was the performance of Miss Enghsh and 
 her noble partner. 
 
 Even the prime minister, who, danced 
 with a daughter of the Lord Mayor (for a 
 premier can sometimes cut capers ; and, 
 has even derived more celebrity from the 
 motion of his heels, than the schemes of 
 his head) was so much entertained with 
 the exhibition, that, he was almost con- 
 vulsed with that kind of inaudible laughter, 
 which, although it might threaten bad 
 consequences, appeared still less dangerous 
 than if he had expressed his feelings more 
 F 6
 
 108 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 openly. For my Lord was not a little 
 choleric, and, if offended, would in all 
 probability have been disposed to shew 
 the aoilitv of his limbs in an exercise 
 not quite so inoffensive as that in which 
 he was then engaged. 
 
 The noble Lord and his partner had 
 nearly finished the dance ; having arrived 
 within two or three couple of the bottom 
 of the room, when Miss Arabella, happen- 
 ing to turn her head, observed Mr. Bur- 
 rows in conversation with several gentle- 
 men, who were evidently making them- 
 selves very merry at the expense of her 
 partner. 
 
 She would have been piqued if she had 
 suffered herself to be prevailed upon to 
 dance with any other person than Lord 
 Kilberry ; but assured that the good sense 
 of her admirer, if he did not perceive her
 
 MODERN TIMES. 1 Og 
 
 real motive for ccndescending to indulge 
 the company with so much diversion, 
 would be satisfied that in such a choice 
 she had no indention to excite his jealousy 
 or discourage his advances, was only dis- 
 pleased that she had fatiguea herself so much 
 as to be disinchned to dance a.y longer. 
 
 Lord Kilberry conducted Miss Arabella 
 to her seat with great respect ; and, in 
 the hearing of Mrs. Senac passed an en- 
 comium on her dancing, which she return- 
 ed by a compliment of the same descrip- 
 tion, almost equal to the notion entertain- 
 ed by his Lordship of h's ov/n merit. 
 
 Mr. Burrows now advanced, and, with 
 a very graceful bovi^, inquired first after her 
 own health, and then after that of her 
 brother and the family. 
 
 At the instant he was speaking, Miss 
 Caroline English whispered Mrs. Senac,
 
 110 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " As I live, Madam, here is my sisters 
 '^ handsome partner!" 
 
 Mrs. Senac looked him full in the face, 
 — and, " upon my word Miss Caroline, a 
 very handsome man he is." She had 
 scarcely finished, the sentence before Miss 
 English presented him by the name of 
 Mr. Burrows ; and, added : — " This gen- 
 " tleman is a friend of my brother." 
 
 Mrs. Senac spoke to him very com- 
 plaisantly ; and Mr. Burrows afterwards 
 paid his respects to Miss Caroline English, 
 and, then returning to Miss Arabella, re- 
 quested that she would indulge him, by 
 allowing him the honour of filling the 
 place of Lord Kilberry in the succeeding 
 dance. 
 
 " I will not absolutely refuse," said she, 
 *' but I am so very much fatigued by the 
 ** pains I have taken to increase the mirth
 
 MODERN TIMES. Ill 
 
 " of the company, that, I really wish 
 " you would not press me." 
 
 Mrs. Senac, who was still examining 
 every feature in Burro ws's face with atten- 
 tion, and preparing herself to deliver an 
 opinion of her cousin s choice at tlie first 
 convenient opportunity, had contrived to 
 throw so much good-humour and encou- 
 ragement into her countenance, that he 
 was tempted to address her, occasionally, 
 during the intervals of his conversation 
 with Miss English. Lord Kilberry hap- 
 pened to be standing by, and observing 
 that Mr. Burrows had attracted the no- 
 tice of Mrs. Senac, asked if Miss Eng- 
 lish knew that gentleman ? 
 
 " His name is Burrows," replied Ara- 
 bella, with her usual frankness, '^ and 
 " he is a particular friend of my brother, 
 " Sir Philip English."
 
 112 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " Do me the favour," said his Lordship, 
 " to introduce me to him." She imme- 
 diately comphed, and Lord Kilberry, who 
 had as much vanity as any gentleman in 
 the room, and, of course, more than any 
 lady ^^ho was present, now enjoyed the 
 satisfaction of again becoming an object of 
 attention ; for every one who saw him in 
 conversaiion with Mr. Burrows was im- 
 mediately struck by the force of the con- 
 trast between them ; which was so remark- 
 able, that they seemed to form the oppo- 
 site extremities of the same class of ani- 
 mals. 
 
 Lord Kilberry applauded Miss English 
 and her dancing, with so much warmth, 
 that if the same expressions had proceed- 
 ed from the lips of any other man in the 
 room, Burrows might have felt, or pre- 
 tended to have felt^ a little jealous : he.
 
 MODERN TIMirS. 113 
 
 however, concurred in his lordship's pane- 
 gyric^ with great good-humcurj and said, 
 that if he had arrived earlier in the even- 
 ing, he should have entertained hopes of 
 dancing Vvith her himself; and, tiiat he 
 was still inclined to plead the privilege of 
 long acquaintance, for again soliciting that 
 enviable distinction. 
 
 '^ By all means," said my Lord, who, 
 though, the vainest coxcomb in town, 
 was by no means ill-humoured, and could, 
 if he chose it, behave like a well-bred 
 man : '' by all means, Mr. Burrows : — 
 '^ priority of acquaintance, on such occa- 
 " siop.Sj is superior to all forms." 
 
 Hovrever, his Lordship neither expect- 
 ed that Miss English would hazard the 
 imputation of caprice, after having reject- 
 ed so many offers at the commencement 
 of the even in jy ; nor after the declaration
 
 114 MODERN TIME9. 
 
 which she had made, of being much fa- 
 tigued, that she would suffer herself to 
 be prevailed upon to dance any more. 
 
 In the encouragement which he had 
 given to Burrows to repeat his solicitations. 
 Lord Kilberry had therefore in view, the'gra- 
 tification of his predominant passion5vanity, 
 in seeing so handsome a man refused; where 
 he himself had been before accepted, and 
 with the greatest apparent alacrity. 
 
 But he was disappointed ; and Miss 
 Arabella no longer refusing her consent, 
 stood up with Mr. Burrows,, and danced 
 two dances with considerable spirit. 
 
 Lord Kilberry was not a little mortified 
 by this proof of what he considered co- 
 quetry, and it was with indications o£ 
 growing vexation, that he heard Mrs. 
 Senac loudly applauding the grace and 
 elegance of Miss English's partner^
 
 MODERN TIIVrES. 116 
 
 Fortunate was it for Mrs. Senac^, that 
 her sex protected her from the effects of 
 his Lordship's resentment : — her own 
 ideas of self-importance were fully suffi- 
 cient to guard her from the consequences 
 of his neglect. When his Lordship with- 
 drew to the opposite side of the room, 
 the old lady began to make a comparison 
 between his performance and that of Mr. 
 Burrows, which entertained the company 
 around her, almost as much as he had 
 done by the previous exhibition with 
 which he had indulged them. 
 
 By this evening's performance, Mr. 
 Burrows had danced himself into the good 
 graces of Mrs. Senac, almost as complete- 
 ly, — indeed, perhaps, more so, than he 
 had done with regard to Miss Arabella 
 English, at their first meeting, in the Isle 
 of Wight.
 
 11 6* MODERN TIMES. 
 
 Mrs. Senac gave him her card, and 
 with tlie freedom, which her years and 
 condition entitled her to use without im- 
 propriety, informed him that Miss English 
 w as her guest ; and that her doors were 
 always open to the acquaintance of her 
 cousin, Sir Philip English. 
 
 In the course of the evening, Burrows 
 informed Miss Arabella, that by the death 
 of a rt lation, on whose account he had been 
 compelled to quit the island so abruptly, he 
 had become entitled to a fortune of more 
 than twenty thousand pounds, and that 
 he only waited for the expiration of what 
 is called the dead year, to obtain posses- 
 sion of it, when it was his intention to 
 have laid it at her feet ; hoping, however, 
 that he might have concealed from her 
 the knowledge that his condition in life
 
 MODERN TIMES. 117 
 
 had ever been such as to expose Iilm to 
 the possible contempt of her family. 
 
 *' Of your understanding and endaw- 
 " ments, Madam/' he added, '^ I always 
 '• entertained so exalted an opinion, that 
 " I flattered mvseif the consideration, 
 " which, with others, might nave been 
 ^^ an insuperable barrier, would have been, 
 " so far as yourself only were concerned, 
 ^^ of little import?.nce in determining your 
 '' choice." 
 
 " I have too much of my brother's 
 *^ franknecs," replied Miss English, — 
 " (which perhaps is originally my own, 
 " rather than his) to dissemble my opi- 
 *' nion of you : and the conceal ment^ 
 ^^ which I can readily forgive, is the only 
 " circumstance that I have ever observed 
 " in your behaviour which could make 
 *^ me hesitate. As it is the only instance.
 
 118 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 '^ however, in which you have required 
 ^* forgiveness, there is no uncommon exer- 
 " tion of candour requisite, to make me 
 '' overlook it : but I can appeal to Mrs. 
 '^ Senac, if you required any additional 
 *^ proof besides that which I have already 
 '^ given you, that as we are seldom the 
 ^* manufacturers of our own destiny ; — no 
 '^ consideration like that which you have 
 ^^ alluded to, has ever had a place in the 
 ^^ mind of Arabella English." 
 
 The politeness of Mr. Burrows extend- 
 ed to the whole of Mrs. Senac's party, 
 and having, at her request, ordered her 
 coachman to draw up, he insisted on con- 
 ducting the ladies separately to the car- 
 riage, lest any disaster should occur : 
 however, observing Lord Kilberry disen- 
 gaged, at the time they were about to leave 
 the room, he stepped up to his lordship,
 
 MODERN TIMES. II9 
 
 and having had the honour of being intro- 
 duced to him, on coming into the room, 
 pohtely wished his Lordship a good night. 
 
 Lord Kilberry, aroused from a reverie 
 into which he had fallen, opposite one of 
 the largest pier-glasses, in which he seem- 
 ed to have been contemplating some object, 
 particularly interesting, forced a smile 
 into his countenance, as he shook hands 
 with Mr. Burrows, and then, as if recol- 
 lecting himself: ^^ But, my good Sir, 
 " where are the ladies ? " 
 
 " Just on the eve of their departure ; 
 *' will your Lordship condescend to speak 
 " to them before they go ? " said Burrows, 
 at the same time making way for the noble 
 Lord, who required for his movements a 
 greater space than might have been sup- 
 posed from the diminutive size of his 
 person, in consequence of the swing of
 
 120 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 his arms, and the rotation of his hip-joints. 
 — He conducted him to Mrs. Senac, to 
 whom his Lordship m?tde one of his best 
 bows : and the young ladies having been 
 previously attended to the carriage by Mr. 
 Burrows, who, on his retarn, attached 
 himself to Miss English ; Lord Kilberry 
 could do no less than offer to escort Mrs. 
 Senac. 
 
 Thecompanywere again favoured with a 
 very ludicrous scene : — the old lady in 
 her marigold-coloured sattin, and glitter- 
 ing with jewels, marched down the ball- 
 room by the side of her gallant Lord, 
 who, in consequence of her enormous 
 hoop, was barely able, by the utmost 
 extension of his arm, to reach the tip of 
 her finger with his right hand, whilst 
 the left was svi^inging round and round in 
 a manner impossible to be described, but
 
 MODERN TIMES. 121 
 
 well fitted to display the diamond button 
 and loop, and ostrich-feathers that adorned 
 a cocked hat, of unconimon magnitude, 
 which he was prevented carrying under 
 his arm by the hilt of his sword which 
 always occupied that place. 
 
 Ever)" eye was upon the Patagonian and 
 the dwarf, for such appeared Mrs. Senac 
 and Lord Kilberry ; nor did the famous 
 Jeffrey Hudson ever create more merri- 
 ment, in the merry court of that merry 
 monarch, King Charles, than this pretty 
 pair of portraits, at the mansion of my 
 good Lord Mayor. 
 
 When Mrs. Senac and her company 
 were safely seated in their coach, *^ well, 
 " my dear," said the old lady, ^* I admire 
 ^^ your choice, and I vow that if I were 
 ^^ a young woman myself, there was not 
 " a man in the room whom I would have 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " sooner taken for my partner : — and I 
 " used to be very fond of dancing. I 
 ^^ remember my brother Sir Crisp, when 
 '^ he was Lord Mayor, and I presided in 
 ^^ that very room, which I have just left, 
 '^ said to the Duke of Newcastle, '^ Pris- 
 " *^ cilia is no disgrace to the first ball- 
 *' ^^ room of the first city in the world, 
 *' "my Lord Duke:" — And his Grace 
 '* replied: " My Lord, I never saw a bet- 
 " " ter dancer than my Lady Mayoress, 
 *^ " at St. James's ; — -no, nor even at the 
 " " court of the King of France." " 
 
 Miss English balancing in her own mind 
 the consequences of an unsuccessful effort 
 to conceal the station of her lover, deter- 
 mined to guaixl herself from the worst 
 which could possibly happen : that, is the 
 unseasonable impertinence of those who 
 might make a subsequent discovery, by
 
 MODERN TIMES. 123 
 
 stating to her cousin the circumsiance 
 which had taken place the day before : 
 and, accordingly, when they were alone 
 together, she mentioned to Mrs. Senac, t'^e 
 particulars relative to his coming to her 
 house, with which the reader has been 
 already made acquainted. 
 
 Whatever inclination Mrs. Senac might 
 
 have felt to turn up her nose, or to look 
 
 glum, at the introduction of the title of 
 
 shoemaker, it was so quickly followed by 
 
 the appurtenances of a fortune of mora 
 
 than twenty thousand pounds in bank 
 
 stock, that, with great composure, the 
 
 old lady remarked, ^* they who would re- 
 
 " fuse such a handsome man, with twenty 
 
 ^^ thousand pounds, because he is a shoe- 
 
 " maker, ought to go without shoes all 
 
 ^^ their lifetime." 
 
 " My dear Madam," said Arabella, 
 G 2
 
 124 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " I admire the sentiment; but the ex- 
 " pression is too much like that of my 
 " brother—" 
 
 " What signifies expressions ? " inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Senac : '^ where one person 
 *' knows what another means, words are 
 " of very Httle consequence. 1 suppose 
 '^ you would not be able to get through 
 ^^ the marriage ceremony if there were 
 
 *^ any thing like a pun in it. 1 assure 
 
 *^ you, I shall not affront Mr. Burrows, by 
 ^^ talking to him about shoes, when he 
 " comes here ; and if I did, he might 
 " retort it upon me, by saying, that he 
 ^^ was supplied with Turkey leather from 
 ^^ my warehouse. Nothing, in my opinion, 
 '^ is half so ridiculous, as the affectation 
 ^^ which springs from such narrow-minded 
 ^^ pride. 
 
 ^' All pride, my dear madam, is nar- 
 '' row-minded," said Miss English.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 125 
 
 ^^ I was going to give you an instance 
 ^^ of it/' continued Mrs. Senac : — ^^ there 
 ^^ is Mr. Rodd^ a professional gentleman 
 *' of my acquaintance^ who never mentions 
 *^ the name of his colleague, a person 
 *^ of much greater abilities than himself, 
 " without insinuating the superiority of 
 *^ his own family ; — and^ you must know, 
 " that the right on which he founds his 
 " preeminence, is, forsooth, because he 
 *^ was the son of a linen draper, whilst 
 ^* his rival was only the son of a tailor ! 
 '^ So much for upstarts!" 
 
 Mr. Burrows was an early visitor at 
 Mrs. Senac's, where he was received uith 
 as much attention as if V;e had been a 
 person of the highest condition; indeed, 
 his manner and behaviour entitled him 
 at least, to equal regard. 
 
 Miss Arabella informed her brother, 
 G 3
 
 126 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 by letter, of her intention to alter her 
 condition ; thinking it incumbent upon 
 her to communicate the circumstance to 
 him, although she would not condescend 
 to ask his advice on the subject. 
 
 The Baronet, who entertained a goocl 
 opinion of Burrows, replied to his sister, 
 that as she was old enough to choose for 
 herself, he should not attempt to advise, or 
 interfere with her scheme, that Mr. 
 Burrows should always find in him the 
 affection of a brother, joined to the sin- 
 cerity of a friend ; and that he wished 
 them much happiness together. 
 
 Miss Arabella was so well pleased with 
 the Baronet's letter, and particularly as 
 he did not assume the liberty of expres- 
 sing any opinion on the subject ; but left 
 it er.tirely to her own prudence, that, iu 
 return, she sent him a pair of Brussels-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 12J 
 
 lace ruffles, against the ensuing assizes, 
 when he was to appear in tlis character 
 of high sheriff of the county in which 
 he resided ; accompanied with a more 
 complimentary letter than she had ever 
 written to him in her hfe. 
 
 She took care to avoid entering into any 
 unnecessary particulars, as she called 
 them ; and therefore said not one word 
 about Burrows's fortune, either in posses- 
 sion or expectancy ; because, as she em- 
 phatically i^marked, she never inter- 
 meddled in the affairs relative to his 
 estate, and a brother had nothing to do 
 with his sister s pin-money. 
 
 In a few weeks they were married ; and, 
 on their return from church, Mr. Bur- 
 rows presented his bride with a settlement 
 by which she was entitled, in case of his 
 death, to the whole of his property. 
 G 4
 
 128 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 It seemed at that time^ an object of no 
 importance^ besides affording a convincing 
 proof of his disinterested regard : — but in 
 less than Bve weeks from their wedding 
 day, whilst a very pretty villa near Twick- 
 enham was preparing for their reception. 
 Barrows was seized with a violent fever, 
 which notwithstanding the advice of the 
 most eminent of the faculty put a period 
 to his existence in a few days. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows was inconsolable for his 
 loss, and it had the effect of destroying 
 the gaiety of her temper, so completely, 
 that, although she survived him many 
 years, she was scarcely ever observed to 
 be, what is usually termed, in good 
 spirits, afterwards . 
 
 Sir Philip was much affected, on re- 
 ceiving intelligence of this melancholy 
 event, and immediately hastened to Lon-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 129 
 
 don ; for he had a sincere regard for his 
 sister, and heartily participated in her 
 grief. 
 
 He immediately proposed that she 
 should leave town, and accompany him 
 to Blackwood Hall, which he desired her 
 to consider as her home, and, with so 
 much earnestness, entreated her to resume 
 the management of his domestic con- 
 cerns, that she consented to it ; and re- 
 turned with her sisters and the Baronet 
 into the country. 
 
 From this period she might be con- 
 sidered as the head of the family at Black, 
 wood Hall, which, in the event, proved 
 to her, not only a comfortable, tut a 
 necessary asylum : for the relatives of Mr. 
 Burrows, disappointed in their hopes of 
 becoming possessed of the property of 
 their old aunt, who had distinguished him 
 G 5
 
 130 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 by the generous legacy before mentioned, 
 but cut off by the settlement which 
 Burrows had made at his marriage, of 
 all i\ ture hopes of participating in the ' 
 fortune which they had greedily set their 
 minces upon ; filed a bill in Chancery 
 against the widow and executrix, which, 
 by the procrastination of the attorney, 
 and the thousand shifts and subterfuges 
 practiced under the sanction of the laws, 
 was protracted to an extent of more 
 than thirty years, before she could touch 
 a shilling of the money : so that, with a 
 jointure of more than a thousand pounds 
 a year, she would have been entirely 
 dependant on her brother, if her own 
 private fortune had not happily rescued 
 •her, from a state which would have been 
 ill endured by a person of her high spirit. 
 —She had resided at Blackwood Hall,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 131 
 
 more than twenty years^ a widow ; and 
 never once thought of changing her con- 
 dition a second time. Her next sister was 
 married to a respectable country gentle- 
 man, who w^as afterwards knighted : and 
 Miss Margaret died unmarried, leaving 
 to Jack English, the second son of her 
 younger brother, all the fortune of vj^hich 
 she had the disposal. 
 
 Of this hopeful youth, honourable 
 mention will be made in the ensuing 
 pages. 
 
 G 6
 
 132 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The reader having now become a little 
 acquainted with the company, with 
 whom he is about to associate, will ap- 
 preciate the value of their respective re- 
 marks ; and the weight of their several 
 opinions, with more facility and correct- 
 ness than he could have done, if the in- 
 formation contained in the three last 
 chapters had been withheld. 
 
 This preparatory account affixed to an 
 historical narrative, is something like a 
 master of the ceremonies at an assembly. 
 Neither of them is absolutely necessary ; 
 but they both are very useful and con- 
 venient. The former does not increase
 
 MODERN TIMES. 133 
 
 the value of the characters about to be 
 depicted, but it prepares the mind for 
 viewing them to greater advantage : the 
 latter neither improves tlie dress nor in- 
 creases the elegance of those whom he 
 takes by the hand ; but he brings them 
 forward in proper order, arranges them in 
 their right places, and presents them to 
 view in the most favourable light ; and 
 enables them to make their bows and 
 courtesies, and display the ornaments of 
 their dress, and the elegance of their 
 shapes in the most attractive manner. 
 
 The reader, therefore, it is hoped, will 
 not think his time has been wholly mis- 
 spent in reading the preliminary history 
 of Sir Philip English and his sister, by 
 way of introduction to the account which 
 follows, of various scenes in which they 
 were engaged.
 
 134 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 The next morning after Sir Philip had 
 expressed his desire to become acquainted 
 with Mr. Worth, the clergyman whom 
 his sister had mentioned in such favour- 
 able terms, the Baronet received an invi- 
 tation to dine at Boneham Lodge on the 
 Monday follow^ing, with Colonel Courtly, 
 father of the young lady who had furnish- 
 ed Mrs. Burrows with the intelligence 
 that Mr. Worth resided in their neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 Sir Fhilip had therefore an additional 
 motive besides that of ordinary politeness, 
 for accepting the invitation ; arising from 
 his hopes of meeting with the clergyman. 
 
 On his ari'ival at the lodge, he found a 
 large company already assembled, which 
 was still receiving numerous additions, 
 until at last Sir Philip numbered twenty-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 135 
 
 six visitors^ besides the Colonel's own fa- 
 mily. 
 
 The state of Mrs. Burro ws's health pre- 
 cluded her from being a regular visitor^ 
 and prevented her accompanying her bro- 
 ther ; but, with this solitary exception al- 
 most every person of condition and opu- 
 lence in the immediate vicinity, was, on 
 this occasion, a guest of Colonel Courtly. 
 
 Sir Philip was well acquainted with the 
 greater part of the company, but was a 
 little disappointed that among those who 
 were strangers, and to whom he was then, 
 for the first time, introduced, he did not 
 hear the name of Mr. Worth. 
 
 He took occasion, however, when he 
 paid his compliments to Miss Courtly, to 
 mention the observation which his sister 
 had made respecting the novel : arid she 
 in return told him that Mr. Worth had
 
 136 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 lately been presented to a small living in 
 the neighbourhood, and was to have dined 
 at Boneham Lodge that day. Her father 
 happening to come up at the time, "Pray, 
 " Sir," said she, '' does not Mr. Worth 
 '^ dine here to day ?" 
 
 " I invited him, replied the Colonel, 
 " but, by the bye I do not know how it 
 " is, Sir Philip, these parsons are never 
 "in time." 
 
 " That is contrary to the old rule, Co- 
 " lonel," said the Baronet. 
 
 Courtly looked at his watch ; and per- 
 ceiving that all the company, excepting 
 Mr. Worth, were already assembled, 
 *^ This here thing," said the Colonel, 
 *^ is monstrous provoking ! So many no- 
 *^ ble lords and beautiful young ladies, 
 " and worthy knights, and baronets, all
 
 MODERN TIMES. 137 
 
 " kept waiting by one parson. Umph ! 
 '^ I have a great mind to wait no long^er.'* 
 
 '^ I hope he has not met with any acci- 
 ^* dent," said an elderly lady, who had 
 not long come into the room ; '^ but, the 
 '' roads are very indifferent,, and my car- 
 " riage was nearly overturned : — does the 
 *' gentleman live far off. Colonel ?" 
 
 ** No, my good Lady Withering," re- 
 plied Courtly, '^ only just two miles from 
 '^ this very room." Then again taking 
 out his watch, the Colonel resumed his 
 complaint. 
 
 '' My dear Lord Marquis, I am asham- 
 '* ed to keep your Lordship so long 
 " waiting, on account of this here V^icar: 
 " by Gad, my Lud, he shall wait long 
 " enough, for another invitation; Umph! 
 *^ The dinner has been ready twenty-two
 
 138 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ minutes by my watch. Confound all 
 " parsons, I say." 
 
 At this instant Sir Peter Fountains, a 
 very rich baronet, and who was also a 
 dignitary of the church, presented himself 
 to the eye and recollection of Courtly ; 
 who perceived that the latter part of his 
 speech had not escaped him. 
 
 ^^ Most excellent Sir Peter," said the 
 Colonel, " is it possible for your great 
 " goodness to forgive this freedom of 
 *^ speech, in your poor commoner; which, 
 *^ perhaps, nothing but absolute hunger 
 ^^ could have occasioned. 
 
 Sir, Peter smiled : '* Is it much past the 
 '' hour. Colonel?" 
 
 " Twenty -eight minutes. Sir Peter! 
 *^ Eight and twenty minutes, upon my 
 ^^ word." Then looking out at the win- 
 dow, and not perceiving any one coming,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 139 
 
 he rang the bell^ and ordered dinner to 
 be placed on the table : observing, " this 
 *' is past all endurance ; I will not wait 
 '^ one moment longer." 
 
 Presently resuming his station at the 
 window, he descried Mr. Worth walking 
 as fast as he could towards the Lodge. 
 *^ Here comes the parson at last, ruminat- 
 
 " ingupon excuses all the way. Umph!" 
 When he came near the window Worth 
 pulled off his hat, and bowing to Colonel 
 Courtly, said, " I am extremely afraid 
 " that I may have kept you waiting, Co- 
 '' lonel." 
 
 " Not at all, Reverend Sir," replied the 
 Colonel, without the least hesitation, 
 *^ quite in good time; rather before the 
 ^^ time than after." 
 
 On entering the room, the parson again 
 apologized.
 
 140 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " Not one word^ my dear Sir!" ex- 
 claimed the Colonel;, '^ I dares to, say, 
 ^^ the dinner is scarcely ready ! " 
 
 Mr. Worth was a respectable looking, 
 middle-aged clergyman, with a sensible 
 and good-humoured countenance, which 
 at once announced that all was right with^ 
 in ; and promised pleasantry and informa- 
 tion to those who conversed with him. 
 
 Miss Courtly introduced him to Sir 
 Philip English ; observing, at the same 
 time, " this is the brother of Mrs. Bur- 
 *^ rows, whom you must remember having 
 " seen at Brighton." 
 
 Mr. Worth immediately inquired after 
 that lady, and this naturally brought on a 
 conversation between the Baronet and 
 himself, who were mutually pleased with 
 each other : the former, on account of the 
 good sense and vivacity of Worth, and
 
 MODERN TIMES. 141 
 
 the latter^ because he remarked the strong- 
 est traits of a benevolent heart, and an 
 upright mind, amidst the roughness, in- 
 dependence, and oddities of Sir Phihp. 
 
 The company, after some ceremony, 
 having taken their places at the dinner- 
 table, were feasted with a profusion of 
 dehcacies ; Courtly making apologies all 
 the time for the indifference of the cookery, 
 and the deficiency of the entertainment ; 
 and reiterating his fears that nobody would 
 be able to make a dinner. 
 
 The guests, however, did ample justice 
 to the entertainment and themselves ; and 
 paid less attention to the Colonel's remarks 
 than to the venison and ragouts, which 
 stood before them. A second course of 
 equal magnificence succeeded, and after- 
 terwards an elegant dessert. 
 
 Among the company, was a certain
 
 142 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 Countess, distinguished in the fashionable 
 circles, equally by her gaiety, good-hu- 
 mour, and taste ; and not less remarkable 
 for the '^ rosy health " which, amidst the 
 dissipation of a town-life, and the conti- 
 nual bustle of routes, balls, concerts, and 
 masquerades, still glows on her cheecks, 
 and rivals the characteristic bloom of 
 youth, far from the contamination of Lon- 
 don smoke. 
 
 In a momentary interruption of that 
 sort of conversation which usually fills up 
 the dinner-time in large parties ; Courtly, 
 who knew, perhaps, as well as any man, 
 how to improve such intervals, — addressed 
 the Countess : ^^ Well, my angelic Lady 
 
 " B , it rejoices me, beyond expres- 
 
 " sion, to see you in this here humble 
 " dwelling. How kind it is that you have 
 " condescended to make one amongst us.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 143 
 
 " I declare that the country has appeared 
 " a thousand times more beautiful since 
 *^ your ladyship's arrival. The flowers 
 " smell sweeter, the lawn looks more 
 " verdant, and, in short, wherever you set 
 *^ your foot, all nature is renovated by 
 ^' your presence ! " 
 
 " Upon my v»'ord, Colonel," replied 
 the Countess, '^ I shall think myself in 
 /• Arcadia presently, in the character of 
 "Flora, and, when I return to town, 
 " shall, perhaps, describe you, among the 
 ^^ Sylvan deities, my admirers, under the 
 '* denomination of Pan." 
 
 Courtly observed some of tlie company 
 smile, — they were too well bred to laugh ; 
 — and he assumed a more serious air. 
 ** But to drop all metaphor, is your lady- 
 " ship perfectly recovered from your late 
 *' indisposition ? "
 
 144 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ Nay, Colonel," replied the Countess, 
 *^ you might have called it illness ; — for 
 " you know that I was at death's door." 
 Lady Withering and others who saw no- 
 thing in her ladyship's countenance but 
 the bloom of health, looked a little sur- 
 prised. — The Countess proceeded : ^^ a 
 " whole fortnight 1 kept my bed." 
 
 '^ A whole fortnight ! " repeated the 
 Colonel, with -the most serious air^ '^ and 
 ^' in real danger during the whole of that 
 ^^ period." 
 
 '^ Certainly I was," replied her ladyship, 
 " Rider, the apothecary, absolutely declin- 
 ^^ ed having any thing to do with the case, 
 " unless I agreed to call in Dr. Millbrook." 
 
 ^^ Pray what was your ladyship's dis- 
 " order.''" said Sir Philip Enghsh, with 
 his usual bluntness. 
 
 ^^ The Doctor said that it was a coni- 
 ^^ plaint of a peripneumonic nature/' re-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 145 
 
 plied the Countess^ " and if he had not 
 ^' been called in^ at that critical moment ; 
 " if the disorder had been neglected for 
 ^' a single hour longer, it might have ter- 
 ^^ minated fatally : — indeed, to be sure 
 ^^ it was the most shocking cold, that any 
 ^^ body ever suffered. Colonel Courtly 
 " knows that I never left my room, as I 
 ^^ said before, for a whole fortnight : that 
 " is, excepting just to go to the play and 
 ^^ to church. 
 
 ^^ Indeed, I was excessively concerned 
 " to hear of it,'' said Courtly, ^^ and 
 ^^ humbly beg pardon for having renewed 
 " so disagreeable a subject. But, by-the- 
 ^^ bye, my dear lady, do you think that 
 *^ the air of Grosvenor Place agrees with 
 ^' you ? It is too cold for some consti- 
 '' tutions." 
 
 " O dear, no ! by no means cold, Co* 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 ' MODERN TlxMES. 
 
 '^ lonel, perfectly sheltered from the north 
 ^^ wind ; and the boudoir and principal 
 " drawing-room^, if any thing, rather too 
 ^^ much exposed to the sun." 
 
 " Indeed/' said the Colonel, " that is 
 " the very remark which Sir Harry 
 '^ Dinglefield made, when he gave up his 
 ^^ house and removed to Park-lane, to 
 " avoid the sun and the dust. To be 
 " sure your Ladyship's is a charming 
 " house, and it is fitted up with such 
 ^^ exquisite taste, that it unites all the 
 " advantages of the country with the con- 
 *^ venience of the town, But I must pay 
 '^ no more compliments, for fear of being 
 " metamorphosed into that sylvan deity 
 *^ with the ugly name. Umph ! " 
 
 When the ladies were withdrawn, the 
 bottle circulated with freedom and hilarity^ 
 for Courtly was good-humoured and hos-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 14^ 
 
 pitable, and might have filled a very ho- 
 nourable place in the opinion of his ac- 
 quaintances^ if the vanity of perpetually 
 complimenting every one with whom he 
 conversed^ had not given an air of insin- 
 cerity to his manners, which always ex- 
 cited distrust, and degraded him in the 
 eyes of those who liked his drollery, and 
 that humourous dryness, which, whilst 
 it excites mirth in others, maintains an 
 appearance of inflexible gravity. 
 
 He was rich, and not destitute of gene- 
 rosity ; but, as no man was sure that he 
 might not be the next object of his sar- 
 castic reflection when absent, there were 
 few who could look upon Colonel Courtly 
 with a desire that their acquaintance with 
 him should ripen into intimacy, and 
 perhaps none who thought him posses- 
 H 2
 
 146 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 sed of sufficient sincerity to be capable of 
 forming a real friendship. 
 
 Mr. Worthy who had for a long time 
 remained silent^ being almost an entire 
 stranger to the principal part of the com- 
 pany, and too modest to obtrude himself 
 upon their notice, having, by the remo- 
 val of the ladies, become the occupier of 
 a seat next to Sir Philip English, the 
 Baronet availed himself of the opportunity 
 thus afforded him, to make some inquiry 
 on the subject to which Mrs. Burrows had 
 lately directed his attention. There was a 
 kind of docihty about Sir Philip, which 
 whilst he was disposed to argue with his 
 sister, and combat lier opinions, never- 
 theless inclined him to attend to, and 
 often to adopts her advice or suggestions, 
 €ven on the very subject on which they 
 might have been most directly at vari- 
 ance.
 
 MODERN' TIMES. 149 
 
 " Mr. Worth," said the Baronet, " my 
 *^ sister has done you the justice to 
 " mention with the respect it deserves, 
 ^^ the trouble which you took to defend 
 *^ the author of a book from which she 
 ^^ had derived great satisfaction when at 
 *^ Brighton, last year; and I am very 
 " happy in the pleasure of meeting you 
 ^' to-day. I live at Blackwood Hall, and 
 *^ if it is not too far from your parsonage, 
 " I hope you will ftivour me with your 
 " company sometimes." 
 
 Worth made a suitable reply, and in the 
 course of their conversation told Sir Phihp, 
 that he was personally acquainted with the 
 author of the novel alluded to, but was 
 not at liberty to disclose his name. 
 
 *^ It is unnecessary, " said the Baronet, 
 ^^ after your conversation with my sister, 
 " to ask if it be worth reading. — You 
 H 3
 
 150 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " must be told, Mr. Worth, that it was 
 '^ by accident that I heard of it; as I 
 ^^ never trouble myself about such things, 
 '^ and, indeed, am no great reader. My 
 " sister and I happened to get into a dis- 
 " pute about Modern Times, and what I 
 ^^ applied to the government and the mi- 
 ^^ nistry, she supposed was a criticism 
 " upon your friend the author. However, 
 '^ after a mutual explanation, we cleared 
 " up the mistake ; and Mrs. Burrows 
 ^^ said so much about the book, and 
 ^^ about you, that I have ever since been 
 '^ very desirous of seeing both." 
 
 Worth was explaining to Sir Philip the 
 nature and design of the publication, 
 when the title of 'Modern Times caught 
 the ear of Courtly. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Sir Philip," said the 
 Colonel, " that there novel which 1 per-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 151 
 
 *• ceive you are talking of^ is the vastest 
 *^ favourite you can imagine^, among all the 
 " ladies in the world. There is that old 
 ** Countess of Arcadia^ who has just left 
 "*^ the room^ — I dares to say^ she never 
 '^ slept a wink till she had read it twice 
 ^' or three times over^ the first day it came 
 " out." 
 
 '^ Have you read it Colonel ? " said 
 Sir Philip. 
 
 ^^ By Gad, I have. For my daughter 
 " Maria told me that my portrait was in 
 " the exhibition, and of course I could do 
 " no less than take a look at it : Umph ! " 
 
 " Is it a good likeness. Colonel .- " said 
 Sir Peter Fountains. 
 
 " Not a very handsome one, Sir Peter ; 
 " some bold touches, to be sure. Umph ! 
 " A little aggravation of features, but 
 H 4
 
 152 MODERN TIMES* 
 
 ^ by-the-bye not quite sufficient to make 
 " me resemble Pan ! Umph ! Sir Peter ! " 
 
 " Is it professedly a satirical perform- 
 " ance?" said Sir Peter Fountains. 
 
 '' No, Sir Peter/' replied Mr. Worth, 
 " it is a novel; but in the course of the 
 *^ narrative, a number of living characters 
 ^^ are introduced, and several anecdotes 
 " related, which serve as a key to the per- 
 ^^ formance ; and enable almost ever one 
 ^ to discover the likeness of his neighbour, 
 " although he may not always be able to 
 ^^ see himself. I do not think that there 
 ^^ is any thing ill-natured in it; the author 
 ^^ seems rather to indulge himself in 
 ^^ laughing at the ill-humour of others : 
 '^ nor is there any thing of a scandalous 
 " tendency, I think. Is there, Colonel 
 '' Courtly?*;
 
 MODERN TIMES. J 53 
 
 « O no, Sir;' replied the Colonel, " by 
 ^^ no means, nothing of the kind : severe 
 ^^ enough, but by-the-bye, the Vicar - 
 ^^ of Dunsmore diverts me excessively, 
 " Umph ! " 
 
 " Who is meant by the Vicar of Duns- 
 '^ more ? " said Sir Philip. 
 
 ^^ I have not a gi:^ess/' replied the Co- 
 lonel, " but of course he is a parson, and 
 ^^ the author makes him excuse himself 
 " from belonging to a book club, by say- 
 *^ ing, that he never reads any book what- 
 ^^ soever ! " 
 
 " I think," said Mr. Worth, '' that 
 ^^ he is rather hard upon the Earl of 
 ^^ Avonside ; if, as is commonly sup- 
 *^ posed he is meant by Lord Stiff- 
 '' neck." 
 
 *^ Upon my honour,he is indeed," added 
 the Colonel, ^^ there he is too bad in-
 
 154 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " deed : that part is damnably severe by 
 '' Gad!" 
 
 " But does he not speak well of any 
 ^^ one ? " inquired Sir Peter Fountains. 
 
 " Yes/' said Mr, Worth, " he praises 
 " some of the characters, with great 
 ^^ warmth, and even allows the weight of 
 " their merit, if they have any, to the 
 " most objectionable among them, even 
 '' to Lord Stiffneck himself." 
 
 " You might well say, if they have 
 " anyy' said Sir Philip English, " when 
 " applying your remark to Lord Avonside. 
 ^^ Perhaps you may be acquainted with 
 " him, Colonel Courtly ; but from what 
 " I have had the misfortune to see and 
 " hear of his Lordship, if any thing 
 ^^ good is said of him, it must be sup- 
 " plied from the stores of imagination^ 
 " rather than of memory."
 
 MODERN TIMES. 155 
 
 " Exactly so," said the Colonel, with 
 an assenting smile : '' bythe-bye, there is 
 " not a character more exactly drawn in 
 " the whole book ; but my Lud looks 
 *' very shy about it. Umph ! Very shy, 
 '' indeed. Sir Peter." 
 
 '' He finds," replied Sir Peter, '' that 
 ^^ the cap fits him, I suppose, but per- 
 ^^ haps is not very becoming." 
 
 " Excellent indeed. Sir Peter! admi- 
 ^^ rable ! Umph ! He feels that the cap 
 ^\Jits him^ but is not very becoming, 
 " But Sir Peter, it does not disguise his 
 " features, Umph ! " 
 
 '' Well, my Lord Marquis," continued 
 Courtly, addressing himself to a noble- 
 man who had n^t spoken a word since 
 dinner, — ^^ this here novel makes us all 
 ^^ very merry, does it not ? Umph ! By- 
 [^ the-bye, pray did your Lordship eves 
 H 6
 
 156 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^/ discover the author of that there epi- 
 ^^ gram, which a certain nobleman exhi- 
 *^ bited to us last winter?" 
 
 " To be sure I did," replied the Mar- 
 quis. ^^ I knew that my librarian could 
 " tell who wrote it. It was Garrick him- 
 " self." 
 
 ^^ Indeed! my Lud! It is incomparably 
 ^^ well expressed ; but I dares to say his 
 *^ Lordship was not a little sore about it." 
 
 *^ Very angry indeed, at the time ; " said 
 the Marquis, '' notwithstanding he affect- 
 ^^ ed to carry it off with a laugh : — but it 
 ^^ is grown old now, and is almost forgo t- 
 *' ten." 
 
 Sir Philip English inquired what were 
 the lines? And the Marquis explained 
 that they were written by Garrick, in con- 
 sequence of his having gone to a noble- 
 man's house, Y\ho had frequently invited
 
 MODERN TIMES. 15/ 
 
 him to take a dinner en fam'ilU : but when 
 himself and his friend had been shewn 
 the curiosities of the place, instead of a 
 dinner — the nobleman made them a pre- 
 sent of a book, gave them a dish of cho- 
 colate, and dismissed them. The verses 
 were printed in some of the periodical 
 publications of the day ; but, as Sir Phi- 
 lip had never seen them, the Marquis ob- 
 ligingly gave him a copy : — 
 
 ** Some strollers invited by W k*s kind Earl, 
 
 " To hisxasile magni(icenl came, 
 " Prepar'd to admire both the owner and seat, 
 
 " And to give them due honour and fame. 
 
 '* His chambers, his cellars, his kitchen they prais'd, 
 *' But alas ! they soon found to their cost, 
 
 ** That if they expected to feast at his house, 
 *' They reckon'd without their great host. 
 
 '* He shew'd them (xuy's pot, but he gave them no 
 ** soup, 
 
 " No meat would his Lordship allow, 
 ** Unless they had gnaw'd the blade bone of the boar^ 
 
 " Or the rib of the famous dun cow,
 
 158 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " *• But since vcu'ie my friends,"" said the com- 
 plaisant peer, 
 '* ** I'll give you a new printed book, 
 f< «« Which may to your minds some amusement 
 afford : 
 *• ** 'Tis the History of Grevillc and Brooke."" 
 
 '* ** And since you're so civil, well-bred and polite, 
 ** ** Pray pardon one curse from a sinner, 
 
 ** *' For our breakfast we thank you, my very good 
 Lord, 
 «* *« But a plague on your family dinner."" 
 
 " They are severe enough, to be sure/' 
 said Sir PhiHp, ^' but Colonel, if you or I, 
 " or any of this good company, should 
 " make such a pretence about hospitality, 
 " without any right to it; do you not 
 ^^ think we should deserve to be lashed in 
 ^^ a similar manner ?" 
 
 " Most worthy Sir Philip, I exactly 
 *^ agree with you ; but Sir Peter, although 
 " the cap might fit, it, perhaps, would 
 " not seem very becoming ! Umph!" 
 
 The company had been repeatedly sum-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 159 
 
 moned to attend the ladies in the drawing- 
 room, and before they adjourned. Sir Phi- 
 lip invited Mr. Worth to dine with him 
 on the Thursday following: and " I wish," 
 added the Baronet, '• that you could bring 
 *' under your arm the author of whom 
 '• we have been speaking." 
 
 Mr. Worth readily accepted the hospi- 
 table and unceremonious invitation, and 
 this preliminary being arranged, they 
 joined the company, and proceeded to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 ^^ By-the-bye," said Colenel Courtly; 
 '' I will have a litlle diversion with the 
 •• Countess about this here novel." 
 
 The card tables ^vere ready, and the 
 c^entlemen havincr taken their coffee, were 
 
 Do ^ 
 
 preparing to cut for partners, when Court- 
 ly advancing towards the Countess, with 
 his usual gravity. " O my charming
 
 iCO MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^' Lady B.^ , I quite forgot to ask if 
 
 ^' your Ladyship has seen the new novel 
 ^^ called Modern Times. 
 
 " I have, Colonel," replied the Coun- 
 tess: ^^ and pray give me leave to ask, 
 ^^ whether there is any truth in the report 
 " that you furnished the author with 
 ^^ some of the anecdotes ?" 
 
 ^^ Nay 1 my good Lady ! Now you 
 " are too hard upon me ! By-the-bye, 
 " they say that I am introduced in the 
 *^ course of the work. Umph ! " 
 
 " To be sure you are," said the Coun- 
 tess : " it would have been very impolitic 
 ^^ to have omitted yourself, among so ma- 
 *^ ny of your acquaintances and associates : 
 " that would have led to immediate sus- 
 *^ picion, if not certain detection, you 
 " know, but how came the author to be 
 *^ discovered?"
 
 MODERN TIMES. l6l 
 
 " Fye, fye ! charming Goddess of Ar - 
 " cadia ! I know nothing of the author: 
 '^ but, seriously, does any one pretend to 
 •' think that I had a hand in it? Umph!" 
 
 " Why not, Colonel? It would not 
 '• disgrace even a man of your wit ; and 
 ^^ thereare so many droll stories told with 
 '' so much gravity, and so well introduc- 
 ^' ed, that it must be attributed to you or 
 " the late Archbishop of Canterbury. I 
 ^' vow I will give publicity to the report. 
 •' It will make an excellent prologue at 
 ^^ Brandenburgh- House, at the next per- 
 ^^ formance there ! " 
 
 ^* You see," said the Colonel turning 
 to Sir Peter Fountains : " She is a little 
 
 *•' like my Lord W , she tries to turn 
 
 *^ it off with a laugh." 
 
 '■' So should every one," said the reve- 
 rend Baronet. " It was a great misfortune
 
 l62 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " to Warburton, that with all his wit and 
 ^' learning, he could not bear to be laugh- 
 " ed at ; and instead of laughing in turn, 
 *' a jest was always too acrid to sit easily 
 *' on his stomach. Instead of brushing 
 ** cif the dust, which was thrown upon 
 ^' him in sport, he used to stamp and fume 
 ^^ until what was at first a mere trifle, had 
 '' become almost enough to smother him. 
 " Nothing repels satire so effectually, as 
 '^ good-humour." 
 
 Colonel Courtly perceiving that Sir Phi- 
 lip English appeared to be much pleased 
 with the conversation of Mr. Worth, 
 came up to them, and intreated that they 
 would remain at Boneham-Lodge, and 
 dine with him the next day, adding that 
 he expected a large party, and had no 
 doubt that the absence of those, who were 
 about to leave the Lodge that evening,
 
 MODERN TIMES. l63 
 
 would be supplied at least in point of num- 
 bers^ by others who had been already in- 
 vited for the next day. 
 
 " It will be a treat for you Sir Philip, to 
 '^ see the great general, who has positive- 
 ^^ ly promised to be of the party." 
 
 " General Shetland, I presume, Sir," 
 said Mr. Worth. 
 
 " The same, reverend Sir, at your ser- 
 '^ vice," replied the Colonel ; '^ but, by- 
 ^^ the-bye, Sir Philip, much better named 
 *^ Agamemnon; and almost as well known 
 " by that appellation. They who are 
 " amused by contrasts may meet with 
 '^ some entertainment to-morrow, " con- 
 tinued the Colonel ; — " for there will be 
 *^ Agamemnon, who is as big as Goliath, 
 ^- or as poor dear Phil. Hayes of Oxford, 
 ^' and Count Borolawsky the celebrated 
 ^^ dwarf, whom, by-the-bye, I happened
 
 1(34 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *^ to see passing in a boat, by my lawn: 
 *^ and as I always like to imitate my good 
 ^' neighbour Sir Philip, who often picks 
 " up very excellent company by the side 
 " of the road ; I sent and invited the 
 " Count to dine with me." 
 
 Mr. Worth smiled at this trait in the 
 character of his new acquaintance, Sir 
 Philip English ; and the Colonel explain- 
 ed:^ — ^^ It is as true as the Gospel, is it 
 " not Sir Philip ? You can not imagine 
 " Mr. Worth, how much amusement the 
 '^ Baronet often creates by incidental in- 
 
 '^ vitations. Sir Philip sees a couple 
 
 '^ of naval officers, half choked with dust, 
 ^' on a broiling summer's day, mounted 
 ^* on Portsmouth hacks, jierhaps, scarce- 
 '^ ly able to get along, with all the whip- 
 " ping and spurring in their riders' power. 
 " •'-^Out goes Sir Philip, cap in hand;
 
 MODERN TIMES. l65 
 
 *^ ^^ Gentlemen your humbh servant! 
 " " Your most obedient humble servant. 
 *' ^' I am excessively sorry to see you so 
 *^ " indifferently mounted. Will you al- 
 ^^ " low me to offer you some refreshment, 
 '' " this hot weather ? " 
 
 ^^ The strangers see a portly gentleman ; 
 ^^ and a noble Mansion-House. " Faith! 
 " " Captain/' says one to the other, " we 
 " " are in luck here." They bow to the 
 ^^ Baronet ; and by-the-bye, it is ten to 
 ^^ one that they accept his invitation im- 
 " mediately. Umph! Sir Philip ! If not 
 ^^ he is sure to repeat it, with all the ur- 
 " banity in the world. ^^ Pray, Gentle- 
 '^ " men, do me the honour : — dinner is 
 " "just coming in, — you shall be as wel- 
 ^^ " come as the flowers in May !" Umph ! 
 '^ The sailors dismount, and when they 
 
 have once got into the house. Sir Philip 
 
 4i
 
 l66 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " always feeds his guests with Lotos ; and 
 " they forget tlieir horses, their voyage, 
 " and, in short, every thing in the world, 
 " but his generous hospitahty ! " 
 
 ''^ A truce to comphments, Colonel," 
 said the Baronet ; — " you were going to 
 ^^ tell us of some other contrast, besides 
 " that of the giant and the dwarf." 
 
 " I ask pardon for the digression, good 
 " Sir Pliilip ; and to resume my narrative, 
 " — or as the gentlemen of the gown, Mr. 
 ^^ Worth, sometimes say, to proceed with 
 " my discourse : — there will also be my 
 " Lady Mottesford, who never utters more 
 " than six words at a time ; nor, unless 
 " hard pressed, so many syllables : and 
 " Miss Hannah Savannah, the West.In- 
 " dian, whose tongue never lies still a 
 '^ moment." 
 
 " Is it possible, Colonel," said Sir
 
 MODERN TIMES. I67 
 
 Philip, ''^ that amongst all the unaccount- 
 ^^ able names in the world, there can be 
 " such an one as that you have mention- 
 " ed?" 
 
 " As sure, most worthy Baronet, as 
 " your name is Philip English, so is Han- 
 " nah Savannah the real name of one of 
 " my expected guests." 
 
 '^ I should not have inquired so parti- 
 '' cularly," added Sir Philip, " but 1 have 
 '' not forgotten ^/oZ/^a/" The Colonel 
 laughed. " You must know, Mr. Worth," 
 said the Baronet, " that my neighbour, 
 " Courtly, happened to mention the cant 
 •* name of one of our acquaintances to a 
 " gentleman in the navy ; and on his 
 ^^ meeting with him afterwards, the officer 
 ^' inadvertently advlressed him by the 
 *• name of Mr. Blobbs, instead of his own, 
 " to the great confusion of both parties.
 
 l68 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ and the diversion of the comjDany pre- 
 '^ sent. I thought it might be right to 
 " satisfy myself respecting Miss Savannah, 
 ^^ lest I should make a similar blunder.'* 
 
 Sir Philip English accepted the invita- 
 tion of Colonel Courtly for the next day, 
 obseiTing, that he thought himself quite 
 in luch, as the Colonel said about the naval 
 Captains, and had tasted the Lotos. 
 
 Courtly bowed : " A thousand thanks, 
 '' Sir Philip!— Good Mr. Worth, I 
 " hope you will not leave us." 
 
 Mr. Worth also accepted the invitation. 
 The greater number of their guests now 
 took their leave, or glided down stairs 
 unobserved ; but the Colonel happen- 
 ing to see the Marquis and Sir Peter Foun- 
 tains, at the instant they were about to 
 withdraw, followed them with a profusion 
 of compliments to the very steps of their
 
 MODERN TIMES. IGQ 
 
 carriages, and after repeating his thanks 
 for the great honour they had conferred 
 upon him, and professed himself their 
 most obedient humble sen^ant, at least 
 forty times, re-ascended to the drawing- 
 room, and then taking Sir Philip by the 
 button : — " What a humdrum sort of a 
 " Peer, that there Marquis is ! Umph ! '* 
 exclaimed the Colonel. " He is as bad 
 *^ as a ghost ; never speaks, unless he is 
 ^•' spoken to ; and then wraps himself in 
 ^•' his shroud again, directly." 
 
 ^^ That may be one of the privileges of 
 *^ the peerage,*' replied Sir Philip, ^^ but 
 *^ I have been so much entertained by Mr. 
 ^^ Worth's agreeable conversation, and 
 ^* your remarks, that I have given but 
 " little attention to his Lordship." 
 
 Before the company separated for re- 
 pose, the Colonel invited Sir Philip to 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 MODEUN TIMES. 
 
 accompany him on the water, the next 
 day, as he was goini^ to pay a morning 
 visit iD a nabob, who had lately purchased 
 Villa-Royal, a beautiful seat, a few miles 
 from Boneham, on the opposite bank of 
 the river which washed the foot of the 
 lawn on which the lodge was situated. 
 
 Sir Philip consented ; and soon after- 
 wards retired to his chamber.
 
 MO0ERN TIMES* l/l 
 
 CHAPTEll VI. 
 
 When the company assembled in the 
 saloon to breakfast. Sir Philip was glad to 
 observe, that the agreeable Countess was 
 still of the party. She was an excellent 
 match, in the vivacity of her repartees, 
 for Colonel Courtly; and as she leads the 
 ton in town, was no less the general delight 
 of every one who had the pleasure of 
 meeting with her in the shades of rural 
 retirement. 
 
 " Will your Ladyship allow me," said 
 Sir Philip, " without being offended at so 
 '' great a liberty, to inquire if you liave 
 '■' lately seen my hopeful nephew, Jack 
 '' English?" 
 
 I 2
 
 172 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 '' Sir Philip,'' replied her Ladyship, 
 '^ I am half inclined to tell you a secret ; 
 ■^' but do not be angry, for with all his 
 ^'^ foibles, Captain English is certainly a 
 '' very agreeiable fellow, though a little 
 '^ too much of a rattle : — but I should not 
 ^^ be at all surprised to see him here, dur- 
 *^ ing my stay/* 
 
 '^ Here, Madam!" exclaimed the Ba- 
 ronet, " I thought he had been gone to 
 ' 'Scarborough ! ^' 
 
 ^^ To Brighton you mean, Sir Philip ! " 
 
 " No ; my Lady, to Scarborough ! " 
 The Countess appeared a little surprised. 
 — ^^ I can not be mistaken," continued 
 the Baronet ; " for, to tell your Ladyship a 
 ^' secret, in return for that with which you 
 " have entrusted me. Jack prevailed upon 
 ^^ me to lend him (as he calls it) five 
 ^^ hundred pounds, on pretext of the
 
 MODERN TIMES, 173 
 
 '' length of the journey, and the death of 
 ** one of his horses, which he spoiled in 
 * riding a race, with some highwayman^ 
 '• I beheve, on the Bath roads." 
 
 ^' Poor fellow," said the Countess, laugh- 
 ing : — ^' riding a race with a highwayman, 
 " Sir Philip, would have been bad enough, 
 " to be sure ; but, to tell tlie truth, 
 •^ English has been hoaxed by his ac- 
 '^ quaintances ever since, because it was 
 " a still greater blunder. They say it 
 '^ was a race with a foot-pad ; it was the 
 *^ famous pedestrian, Barclay; with whom 
 " the Captain made a match, for — I^are 
 " say you have heard how much, Sir 
 " Philip : that he would reach Bath first ; 
 *' riding with his face towards the horse's 
 " tail." 
 
 *^ D — n liimforafool!" exclaimed Sir 
 Phili]). " I beg your Ladyship s pardon, 
 I 3
 
 174 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *^ for my vulgarity; but, this is the first 
 " intelh'gence I have had of the nature of 
 " the bet, and it provokes me beyond 
 *^ expression! Did you ever hear of such 
 " a thing in your life^ Colonel?" 
 
 " Oh dear! yes. Sir Philip; there was 
 " a match made by Lord Budbrook, and 
 " Sir Andrew Apeworth, the last spring, 
 *^ for a thousand guineas play or pay, that 
 *^ his Lordship rode a half starved hack- 
 " ney- coach-horse, from Hyde Park Cor- 
 " ner, through the city, and reached Black- 
 *' wall, before Sir Andrew, who was to 
 **" ride one of his hunters, with a pair of 
 "' his own boots on the animal's legs. 
 
 ** The hunter travelled with so much 
 *^ speed, that my Lord pushed the coach 
 " horse beyond his strength, and he fell 
 *^' down dead, not far from Billinsgate ; 
 *** however. Lis Lordship adhering to the
 
 MODERN TIMES. 175 
 
 ^'- literal condition of the bet, — that he 
 ^^ who arrived first, was to be deemed the 
 '^ winner, gave a couple of guineas to the 
 ** driver of a fish cart to take the dead 
 " horse into his vehicle, which was don^ 
 **' in a moment, and my Lord seated on 
 '* the carcase, drove by Sir Andrew in 
 ** great trium.ph, and won his wager* 
 *^ So much for racing. Sir Philip : and, by- 
 *' the-bye, this here Lord Budbrook is an 
 ** intimate acquaintance of Captain Engr 
 *^ lish, and he might borrow a hint for 
 *' his late match from the aforesaid Lord! 
 " Umph! Sir Philip!" 
 
 " Umph ! Indeed, Colonel," re-echpad 
 Sir Philip, so much vexed about his ncr 
 phew, that he was totally unconscious of .' 
 this inadvertent mockery. " The devil 
 " take Captain English, and all his acr 
 I 4
 
 176 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 '' quaintances, excepting your La- 
 
 '*' dyship, I mean." 
 
 The Countess, Miss Courtly, and the 
 rest of the company, could not help 
 laughing ; Courtly joined in the joke, and 
 hke Sir Philip, attributing their mirth to 
 his incautious expression to the Countess, 
 wholly overlooked the share which belong- 
 ed to himself. 
 
 The Countess resumed her account of 
 Captain English. " The Captain, you 
 *^ know. Sir Philip, lost his bet, and he 
 ** immediately determined to take a trip 
 ** to Brighton this season, to improve 
 '* himself in the science of horsemanship, 
 " if it be correct to say so, by manoeu- 
 ** vring the Brighton ponies, vulgarly 
 ** called asses, on the Steyne, and about 
 " Goldston Bottom: for he has almost
 
 MODERN TIMES. 1/7 
 
 " pledged himself to renew the competi- 
 '^ tion with the foot-pad, as soon as he re- 
 ^^ turns to town." 
 
 " Then I wish he may meet with the 
 '' same fate as the hackney-coach-horse.*' 
 
 '^ Nay, good Sir Philip," said the 
 Countess, " I will not suffer you to be so 
 ^^ severe upon the poor fellow, for he is a 
 " great favourite of mine, and I should 
 '' not be able to go through half the fa- 
 " tigue of seeing so much company as I 
 '^^ do, every winter, if English did not 
 ^* dissipate my perpetual lowness of spi- 
 ^^ rits^ by his wit and vivacity. Indeed, 
 **' Colonel, he is a charming fellow ! You 
 ^' have often seen him, I presume! " 
 
 " A thousand times, most amiable 
 " Countess, and with increasing pleasure : 
 " he is certainly a most agreeable compa- 
 I 5
 
 178 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *« nion, Sir Philip, if he could be restraiii- 
 " ed within proper bounds. Umph T 
 " '' Yes, Colonel," replied Sir Philip: 
 " if within any bounds at all, but it is 
 *' impossible. He is as wild as an Ouran 
 *' Outang, and almost as mischievous. I 
 *^ dread the sight of him. He turns my 
 " house topsy turvy, displaces every 
 *' thing, and creates as much confusion, 
 *' as a troop of horse at free quarters. 
 *' Then, he is perpetually plaguing me 
 '' about politics, for the young dog has 
 ** got all the Tory principles of a Groom 
 " of the Chamber ; and here he meets 
 ** with a powerful auxiliary in his aunt ; 
 •* so that, between them both, I have a 
 " fine time of it> and am generally com- 
 *^ pelled to purchase peace by a few hun- 
 *' dred^ in hard cash, to bribe him to eva-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 1^9 
 
 *• cuate the citadel, as I think you mili- 
 *' taiy gentlemen phrase it. Colonel!" 
 
 *' Exactly so. Sir Philip, perfectly cor- 
 '^ rect ! Admirably expressed indeed ! — ■ 
 " And so. Sir Philip, the Captain actually 
 " makes you come down ivith the ready , 
 " before he will retreat. Umph ! " 
 
 *' Yes, Colonel, he has done so, many 
 " times: but this riding Skimmington, 
 *' this ass-racing, which the Countess has 
 *' been so good to describe, shall save me 
 " at least enough to buy a new coach 
 *^ ap^ainst the winter : and if Jack Enolish 
 " does not mend his manners, he shall 
 *• never set his foot in it. 
 
 '^ Alas! Mr. Worth, this is the histo- 
 '^ ry of Modern Times ; I wish your 
 '^ friend, the author, were acquainted with 
 " my nephew, I'll warrant he would fur- 
 *^ nish him with exploits enough in six 
 I 6
 
 180 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " weeks to make incidents for^as many 
 *' volumes." 
 
 The hour being arrived when the Co- 
 lonel and Sir Philip were to set out for 
 Villa-Royal, the conversation was broken 
 off. As they were passing through the 
 hall. Colonel Courtly's house-steward 
 made his appearance, to ask his master if 
 there were any particular directions re- 
 specting dinner. Here another of tiie 
 Colonel's eccentricities was displayed ; 
 for notwithstanding the faults he had 
 found with the provision, the day be- 
 fore, — he turned to Sir Philip and observ- 
 ed : — '•' What say you, Baronet ? Umph ! 
 '* It v^^as a very good dinner yesterday, 
 *' was it not?" 
 
 "' I thought it a very excellent one, and 
 *' said so," replied Sir Philip,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 181 
 
 ^^ Well then, Jean," to the servant, 
 " there will be about the same number ; 
 " let us have exactly the same dinner 
 '^ in every respect : and — harkee ! be sure 
 *' not to forget the stewed carp ! Umph ! 
 " Stewed carp. Sir Philip, is no bad dish ; 
 '' Umph ! " 
 
 They stepped into a fine vessel, which 
 lay moored at the bottom of the lawn, 
 and dropped down the river. 
 
 As they sailed along, innumerable stri- 
 king and picturesque objects presented 
 themselves on either side ; but both Sir 
 Philip and the Colonel were too much 
 accustomed to them, to enjoy such delight- 
 ful scenery with that zest which it affords 
 ta those who are not so frequently its 
 visitors. 
 
 In the midst of a venerable grove of 
 oaks, springing from a turf of the most
 
 182 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 enchanting verdure, and varied by charm- 
 ing irregularities, the ruins of an abbey 
 half overgrow^n vs^ith ivy, and *' majestic in 
 ^^ the moss of time," v\ as finely contrast- 
 ed by the light and tasteful elegance of 
 the seat they w^ere about to visit, which 
 was situated on the opposite bank of the 
 river ; and surrounded v\7ith a considerable 
 extent of parterre, planted with exquisite 
 judgment. 
 
 To those, before whose eyes these ob- 
 jects were continually present, they had 
 become uninteresting; and the Baronet 
 and his neighbour passed by them with 
 much the same sort of common-place ad- 
 miration, which the farmer feels, who daily 
 rides through the most beautiful pasturage 
 interspersed with groups of cattle, and a 
 variety of objects, which the tasteful eye
 
 MODERN TIMES. 183 
 
 of the artist or the connoisseur would have 
 beheld with rapturous delight. 
 
 Sir Phihp, therefore^ regardless of the 
 woods^ the verdure, the river, or the ruin, 
 seized the present opportunity of being alone 
 with Colonel Courtly, to discuss the affairs 
 of the nation ; and began the conversation 
 on this topic, by such remarks as usually 
 suggest themselves to a country gentleman 
 not altogether satisfied with what is going 
 on above, and the less pleased, the more 
 he understands about the matter. Enor- 
 mous taxes, almost equally harrassing to 
 those who are to pay them, and those 
 whose office it is, to explain the unin- 
 telligible enactments by which they are 
 distinguished in the Statute Book. Trou- 
 blesome levies of the militia, and the vex- 
 atious example of two or three loan-jobbers 
 and contractors, who occasionally exhibit-
 
 184 MODERN TIMB^. 
 
 ed their names at the head of a list of 
 voluntary contributions in aid of what 
 they called the government, but what Sir 
 Philip English always denominated a cor- 
 rupt administration, These, withno small 
 pathos, did the Baronet enlarge upon, in 
 hopes rather than in expectation, that Colo- 
 nel Courtly might be induced to say some- 
 thing on such subjects, as he was a Mem- 
 ber of Parliament ; and of course, the 
 Baronet supposed him to be better ac- 
 quainted with the mechanism of the 
 stupendous machine of state, than him- 
 self, who had never been admitted into 
 the sanctum sanctorum of St. Stephen's. 
 
 I say hoped rather than expected ; for. 
 although the Baronet had frequently 
 agitated such subjects before, and had 
 even taken opposite sides of the question 
 at different times^ in order to induce the
 
 MODERN TIMES. 185 
 
 Colonel to debate a little with him (for 
 it was almost indifFerent to Sir Philip 
 whether he a^-reed or disagreed on the 
 subject under discussion, so that he would 
 only bandy the ball of conversation on 
 this favourite topic^) — it was always with- 
 out success. 
 
 Courtly, who could be grave with the 
 serious, and lively with the gay ; who 
 would declaim in the presence of princes 
 and peers, harangue in the company of 
 judges and lawyers, talk of dress, fashions, 
 and furbelows with the ladies, of Shakes- 
 peare and Racine, with the sons and 
 daughters of Thespis ; and of Hippo- 
 crates and Sir Hans Sloane among phy- 
 sicians and men of virtu ; — although he 
 had been a senator during the greater part 
 of his life, scarcely ever delivered a speech 
 of more than half a dozen sentences, in
 
 186 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 l*arliament ; and seemed to leave his 
 politics with the Speaker s mace^ whenever 
 he quitted the House. 
 
 He listened^ it is true, with the most 
 polite attention, to vSir Philip, and ap- 
 plauded his remarks, in the same manner 
 as he would have done Mr. Pitt or Mr. 
 Wyndham, or any other distinguished 
 orator. 
 
 " Excellent, Sir Philip ! very excel- 
 ^^ lently expressed, indeed ! Incomparably 
 " well spoken ! Umph ! 
 
 " By-the-bye, Sir Philip, why do you 
 *^ not get into Parliament for that there 
 " borough ? " — pointing to the spire of a 
 certain sea-port, within sight. '^ By Gad, 
 " it might be worth your while. Umph ! 
 *^ By-the-bye, I have some influence in 
 " the corporation, and you know that I 
 " would give you my support, with all
 
 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 iW 
 
 " the pleasure in life. Uniph ! Sir Phi- 
 
 '' lip, do think of it a little." 
 
 " It would give me a great deal of trou- 
 
 " ble," replied the Baronet, " besides I 
 
 " hate living in London : or else, I do 
 
 *• believe, that my principles would be 
 
 " agreeable to many of the burgesses; and 
 
 *^ they all know that I would not be bought 
 
 ^^ by any set of men whether ins or outs. 
 
 *^ But, Colonel, what is your opinion 
 
 ^^ of this hubbub about corruption and 
 
 ^^ purchasing seats. For my own part 
 
 *^ I can scarcely believe it to be very com- 
 
 " mon. I do not perceive how it can 
 
 ^^ answer." 
 
 '' By Gad, Sir Philip," rejoined Court- 
 ly, " there is no knowing ! These here 
 
 ^^ times are very tricklish! Umph! By- 
 
 '^ the-bye, what do you say to the county, 
 
 '^ at the next election^ Sir Philip ? *'
 
 188 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *^ It would be too much like running 
 *^ the gauntlet^ Colonel; to be sure my 
 *^ stake in it is considerable, and I have 
 *^ some popularity." 
 
 *^ By Gad you have, Sir Philip : — a 
 ^^ monstrous deal, indeed, Umph! ^' Here," 
 " says a freeholder, ^' here do come Zir 
 «s " Villip English, an honourable Ba- 
 " *' ronet, w^ith a matter of nine or ten 
 '^ *' thousand pounds a year. His vather 
 *^ " and grandvather did live at Blackwood 
 " " Hafl, before un. Dang it, neighbour, 
 *•' " he shall have my voat : — doant thee 
 *' *' goo to gee thine to Squire Vish Skin, 
 *' " the oil marchant ; nor to that damn'd 
 ^' *^ old tawny vellow, that be just come 
 *' '' from among the Black-a-moors, and 
 *^ "do want belike, to make zlaves of vree- 
 '' *^ born Englishmen. I told un zo, I 
 *' ** told un zo, when he did call at my
 
 MODERN TIMES. I89 
 
 '' " varm. Noa! Noa! Zir Villip En- 
 " '' glish vor 1 ! Zir Villip vor ever ! " — 
 *' Umph ! Sir Philip." 
 
 ^^ You must be an excellent canvasser, 
 ^' Colonell If ever I do put up, I must 
 '' beg the favour of a few lessons." 
 
 " Welcome, my dear friend," said the 
 Colonel, '^ as the flowers in May ! " 
 
 They were now arrived at a flight of 
 marble steps, leading to the gardens of 
 Villa-Royal, and the landing of the visi- 
 tors was announced, by the discharge of 
 six brass swivels, placed on a small battery. 
 
 This was the first visit of Sir Philip and 
 Courtly to the family ; but the Colonel in 
 his senatorial capacity, had enjoyed nu- 
 merous and frequent opportunities of see- 
 ing Mr. Middleman on the trial of an 
 East India Governor, — when he made a 
 very conspicuous figure ; and, by the help
 
 igO MODERN TIMES. 
 
 of an excellent memory, rendered, it is 
 said, no small assistance to the cause of 
 truth and justice, in the acquittal of the 
 person accused. 
 
 Mr. Middleman received his visitors 
 with great j3oliteness, and conducted them 
 through a range of apartments, which 
 vied in splendour, with the palace of a 
 Turkish emperor ; to a library, decorated 
 in a style of such astonishing magnifi- 
 cence, that Sir Philip could scarcely find 
 a resting place for his eyes ; and even Colo- 
 nel Courtly, who was more accustomed to 
 the extravagances of modern fashion, in the 
 splendid habitations about the metropolis 
 and its environs, was at a loss for words to 
 express his admiration of the glitter v/hich 
 surrounded him. 
 
 An attempt to describe this museum of 
 Asiatic luxury would be useless ; unless
 
 MODERN TIMES. I9I 
 
 byway o^ furnishing hints for a new edition 
 of Mr. Hope's splendid work on sofas, 
 girandoles, and candelabra, or supplying 
 Christie, and his brethren of the baize, 
 vf'iih. fresh materials for the exercise of 
 their fascinating eloquence. 
 
 Suffice it therefore to say, (adopting the 
 phraseology of almost all panegyrists when 
 they have exhausted their vocabulary of 
 praises) that in the world's wide range 
 could not be found more exquisite work- 
 manship, more gorgeous magnificence 
 than had concurred to render Villa-Royal 
 worthy even of a more splendid title, if 
 any such could have been found. 
 
 Nor were the works of art, the only 
 objects of the admiration of visitors. Na- 
 ture had also lent a hand to complete this 
 elysium ; besides the beauties of wood and 
 water^ — for the house commanded a most
 
 19^ MODERN TIMES. 
 
 interesting prospect^ not only of the beau- 
 tiful river and its sublime accompaniments 
 before-mentioned, but of the sea itself, 
 *^ decked with many a swelling sail." — 
 She had peopled the delightful region with 
 a numerous progeny of children ; who 
 although of different casts, from the Cir- 
 cassian bloom of ^^ the fairest of the fair," 
 through all the different shades of brown, 
 to the tropical tawny, darkening even to 
 the African's sublimest jet, were, with 
 true British liberality, here associated and 
 educated together without the smallest 
 perceptible distinction or preference. 
 
 Sir Philip English could not very well 
 reconcile what he saw with some of the 
 old-fashioned notions which he had im- 
 perceptibly imbibed, and resolved on his 
 return to Boneham to submit a case to 
 the consideration of Mr. Worth, who
 
 MODERN TIMES. 193 
 
 being a good scholar, he thought must 
 necessarily be a great casuist. 
 
 However, as he could not help dropping 
 a word or two of his design to the Colonel, 
 after they had left Villa-Royal, Courtly 
 opened the history of certain transactions 
 among some of the first persons in the realm, 
 by which Sir Philip began to understand, 
 that w hat were once considered the fences 
 of morality, with regard to conjugal affairs, 
 have been of late years removed to a con- 
 siderable distance from the ancient boun- 
 daries: not indeed, by act of parliament, but, 
 it appears, by very general consent, parti- 
 cularly in the upjyer circles of the empire. 
 Having extended their visit to the pe- 
 riod which politeness pointed out as 
 proper on such an occasion, of which 
 there could not be a better judge than 
 Colonel Courtly, they were about to take 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 leave of Mr. Middleman, when on touch- 
 ing a spring with his foot, a very large look- 
 ing-glass at the end of the librar)' divided 
 itself into a pair of folding doors, and open- 
 ing, displayed, in an adjoining apartment, 
 a most luxurious repast, of which they 
 were invited to partake, with so much 
 hospitality, that it was impossible to re- 
 fuse : and Sir Philip, who had at first been 
 a little embarrassed amidst such a pro- 
 fusion of finery, was so agreeably sur- 
 prised by the unexpected ease and urbani- 
 ty of the possessor, that he now felt him- 
 self almost at home, and, before his 
 departure, heartily shook hands with the 
 Nabob, and invited him to Blackwood- 
 Hall. 
 
 Middleman poured out whole libations 
 of compliments, and returned almost as 
 many thanks to the Baronet and the Co-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 195 
 
 lonel for the honour they had conferred 
 upon him by this visit, as Courtly himself 
 gave to the Nabob, for the elegant enter- 
 tainment of which they had partaken ; — 
 which, to use the Colonel's own expression, 
 was, ^^ by-the-bye, a monstrous handsome 
 " ddjeune'y in the very highest style of 
 '^ oriental magnificence." 
 
 Nor was the Baronet much behind in 
 his acknowledgments : in short, between 
 the pleasure of the Nabob's conversation, 
 the excellence of his liqueurs, and a large 
 bumper of Burgundy which he recom- 
 mended as a substitute for Madeira, and 
 infinitely preferable in hot weather, they 
 returned to Boneham- Lodge in very high 
 spirits. 
 
 K 2
 
 1.9^ MODERN TIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The company had already begun to as« 
 senible, when Colonel Courtly reurned to 
 his own house. He was dressed In an 
 instant ; and had gone round the circle 
 of his guests^ before Sir Philip EngUsh 
 rejoined him. 
 
 They were so agreeably employed in 
 recounting the particulars of their 
 morning visit to Villa-Royal, that if 
 the Nabob had been only desirous of ob- 
 taining visitors;, he could not have more 
 effectually secured a succession of them, 
 than by engaging two men, of manners so 
 opposite as Sir Phihp and the Colonel, 
 to sound his praise.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 197 
 
 Whatsoever mip[ht be thought of the 
 sincerity of Courtly^ no one who knew 
 Sir Phihp Enghsh would suspect him of 
 paying an intentional comphinent so as to 
 misrepresent his. real opinion of Middle- 
 man : and whatsoe/er might be thought 
 of the Baronet's taste, there could be 
 no doubt in the worlds of the correctness 
 of that of Colonel Courtly. 
 
 Between them both, the elegrance and 
 splendor of Villa-Royal was so embla- 
 zoned, that there were few among the 
 company, who had not already paid their 
 respects there, but made numerous apolo- 
 gies for the unavoidable omission, and 
 resolved to atone for their neglect, the 
 very first day not wholly occupied by j^re- 
 vious engagements. 
 
 " Pray, Admiral," said Courtly, ad- 
 dressing himself to a rough-looking man 
 K 3
 
 ^9^ MODERN TIMES. 
 
 in a naval uniform considerably tarnished, 
 *' Do you happen to know this here Na- 
 ** bob?" 
 
 '' Do 1? yes, and be d— d to him!" 
 replied Admiral Ortolan ; " I was in the 
 *' East-Indies long enough to know too 
 '* much of him and his exploits, to wish 
 " to know any thing more of either." 
 
 *' Prodigiously rich," added Courtly, 
 ^' I suppose, Admiral ! Umph ! Very rich, 
 " is he not? Umph!" 
 
 Among the company at Boneham- 
 Lodge, were Sir Nathan and Lady Caper. 
 The former was a painter of considerable 
 repute and ingenuity : but having (it is not 
 pretended to say either through his art or 
 artifice) intermarried with the widow of 
 a country 'squire, he exchanged the pen- 
 cil and mediocrity, — some, ill naturedly
 
 MODERN TIMES. 199 
 
 said, indigence and a garret, — for, twenty 
 thousand a year, and a coach and six. 
 
 With the advantage of such appenda- 
 ges, and a good wife, into the bargain, his 
 respectabihty, if not his fame, would have 
 been undoubtedly, at least, preser\'ed, if 
 the most ridiculous affectation had not in- 
 duced him carefully to conceal from every 
 one, from whom he could hide it, the 
 knowledge of his once having been a 
 painter. 
 
 This foiiy might have been more ex- 
 cusable, if Sir Nathan had not previously 
 established his reputation, by the merit of 
 his performances : but what can be said 
 for the caprice of a man who is unexpect- 
 edly lifted out of his original dmt, to sit 
 with the princes and nobles of the land. 
 
 The very solicitude which the Baronet 
 (for he \vas become a baronet too) never 
 
 K 4
 
 200 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 failed to shew, whenever the conversation 
 pointed at his former profession, to avoid 
 being recognized as a painter, was the 
 means of exciting a thousand times more 
 ridicule, than he would have otherwise 
 had to encounter. The servnnts are said 
 to have been strictly forbidden ever to look 
 at the paintings in the house when he was 
 present; and restrained from the use of 
 the words light, shade, and colour. But 
 this regulation like the edict for obliterat- 
 ing the remembrance of the celebrated 
 Ephesian incendiary, effectually defeated 
 itself. So far did the mania extend, how- 
 ever, that it is credibly related of Sir Na- 
 than, that a painter's brush, casually left 
 on the floor of an unfinished room, had 
 a similar influence upon the Baronet, as 
 two straws laid across are said to have 
 upon a witch.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 20 1 
 
 It unfortunately happened that this 
 trait in the character of Sir Nathan was 
 wholly unknown to Sir Philip English, 
 who was never deficient in personal civi- 
 lities to any one^ though he abominated 
 the prostitution of praise. 
 
 Perhaps \\hen he was s'lttmg t^te-a-t^te , 
 with Mrs. Burrows^ at Blackwood Hall, 
 if he had occasion to mention the name 
 of 3ir Nathan Caper, he might sometimes 
 add his newly acquired title of Baronet, 
 with an emphasis different from that w itli 
 which he w^ould have pronounced the 
 names of his old friends. Sir Richard 
 Worsley and Sir John Barrington ; but 
 as he nevsr indulged himself, in personal 
 reflections, unless in the case of public 
 men, whom he always thought fair game, 
 so Sir Nathan might have been consigned 
 to the vault of his ancestors, if he had 
 K 5
 
 202 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 any, before Sir Philip English had made 
 himself acquainted with the above men- 
 tioned piece of affectation, if Sir Nathan 
 had not published it at Boneham, on tlie 
 present occasion. 
 
 But Sir Philip happening to refer to his 
 brother baronet on the subject of a paint- 
 ing in the dining-room which was opposite 
 to them as they sate at table, the latter was 
 so much disconcerted and out of humour, 
 that after in vain endeavouring to shift 
 the conversation, he was at length driven 
 to what has been called, the last resource 
 of fools, — an awkward silence. 
 
 Sir Philip English who was unconscious 
 of having said any thing at which Caper 
 could have taken umbrage, and perceiving 
 liim shuf?^e about in his chair, adjust his 
 cravat, and expand his no&trils, naturally 
 tnough expected that he was abou tto com-
 
 MODERV TIMES. 203 
 
 mence an elaborate speech on the subject, 
 and accordingly prepared himself to be all 
 ear on the occasion. 
 
 Sir Nathan, however, had no such in- 
 tention, and the expectant Sir Philip, was 
 about to repeat his invocation for the fa- 
 vour of his enlightened opinion, when he 
 received a discouraging glance from the 
 good-humoured Countess, who, although 
 she could have wished to see the affecta- 
 tion of Sir Nathan properly exposed, was 
 unwilling to subject Sir Philip Eng- 
 lish to the unpleasant reflections, which 
 she knew that amiable and Vv crthy 
 baronet would feel, if his inadvertence 
 
 should be made instrumental to that ex- 
 posure. 
 
 But Miss Savannah, who superadded 
 to a high sense of her own independence, 
 a disposition to express her opinions on 
 K 6
 
 204 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 every subject unreservedly, without much 
 regarding the consequences of doing so, 
 and moreover being aware of the true 
 cause of Sir Nathan's silence, determined, 
 now the game was started, to pursue it. — 
 She told him that no person in England 
 was so capable of judging with correctness 
 and impartiality as himself; — that he could 
 have no inducement to bestow unmerited 
 praises, and that she knew the benevo- 
 lence of his disposition would soften de- 
 served censure ; and therefore intfeated 
 him to indulge her with his opinion on 
 the merits of the performance^ of which 
 he was so well qualified to speak correctly, 
 both from his professional knowledge, and 
 well-known candour. 
 
 The honourable Baronet was so much 
 disconcerted, that he could only stammer 
 out a few incoherent sentences, aijd then
 
 MODERN TIMES. 205 
 
 relapsed into his former state of sullenness 5 
 indeed, he did not perfectly recover until 
 near the hour of taking leave, when 
 the sight of his splendid equipage and 
 fine horses, seemed to introduce a new 
 and far more pleasing train of ideas. 
 
 Sir Philip English would have prevailed 
 upon Mr. Worth to accompany him to 
 Blackwood-Hall the same evening ; but 
 the latter excused himself: — promisino-, 
 however, to be punctual to his former ap- 
 pointment ; " and then. Sir Philip," said 
 he : ^^ T shall probably have the honour 
 *^ of introducing to you the author, you 
 *^ have been pleased to express so great a 
 *^ desire to see." 
 
 The polite Colonel endeavoured to pre- 
 vail upon Sir Philip to pass another nioht 
 at Bon€ham-Lodge, and the Baronet w ith 
 great difficulty excused himself. Before
 
 i2o6 
 
 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 he set off^ however, Courtly insisted on 
 his taking a sandwich^ which was prepar- 
 ed in the adjoining apartment. Many 
 other gentlemen accompanied him, when 
 a very ludicrous scene presented itself. 
 
 The sideboard was furnished with what- 
 ever is proper for such occasions ; and 
 amongst the provisions, oysters, prawns, 
 and other shell-fish, in abundance. Ad- 
 miral Ortolan and the General, who, were 
 nearly, but not quite full up to the throat, 
 thinking that they had yet room for an 
 oyster or two, had taken possession of a 
 pair of elbow chairs close to the sideboard. 
 Just as Courtly, Sir Philip, and the rest 
 of the company, were coming into the 
 room, the Admiral was thrusting his hand 
 into a barrel of oysters for a fresh supply ; 
 — ^when unfortunately, inserting the end 
 of his finger between the gaping shells of
 
 MODERN TIMES. 20? 
 
 a very large one, which was probably 
 more hungry than himself, the o^^ster im- 
 mediately resented so rude an attack, and 
 closed with all his might, upon the gallant 
 Admiral, — who, starting from his chair 
 in a paroxysm of wrath and pain, which 
 rendered him totally regardless of all 
 around him, overthrew a salver of whipt 
 syllabubs upon Colonel Courtly, and 
 danced round the room in a perfect phren- 
 zy, with the oyster dangling at the end 
 of his finger. 
 
 The Admiral cursed and raved, and 
 called upon the company to release him 
 from the gripe of the fish, which, in spite 
 of his imprecations, still kept his hold. 
 
 The noise brought the ladies from the 
 drawing-room, and the servants from the 
 lobby. Human powers could not resist 
 the impulse ; and peals of laughter almost
 
 208 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 drowned the shrieks and oaths of the Ad- 
 miral. At last^ the point of a knife being 
 insinuated between the shells, the enemy 
 was compelled to quit his position, and 
 
 the Admiral set free. " D n his 
 
 " blood," exclaimed the son of Neptune, 
 " he bit like a shark : here^ Courtly, only 
 '^ look at my finger ! " 
 
 ^' Upon my word, Admiral, he handled 
 ^^ you very rouglily : Umph ! very rough- 
 " ly, indeed. Quite a severe action, was 
 " it not ? Umph ! I dares to say that 
 ^^ he would not have ventured to behave 
 " so, if you had had him on board!" 
 
 This created fresh peals of laughter, 
 and the Admiral not yet recovered from 
 the pain of the bite, shook his finger oc- 
 casionally in a manner which was incon- 
 ceivably ludicrous. 
 
 " Gracious heavens, Admiral ! " said
 
 MODERN TIMES. :209 
 
 Miss Savannah: '^ is it possible ? Such a 
 
 '^ small fish too ! I declare I could not 
 
 ^^ have imagined it. Was the pain very 
 
 " exquisite ? Very acute r " 
 
 ^^ The deviFs in it, if it were rot/* 
 
 said Ortolan: ^'^ did you not hear me sing 
 
 '' out ? " 
 
 '' Yes, by my conscience I did," said 
 
 Miss Savannah, ^' the report reached us 
 " ten leagues off: — but pray, Admiral, 
 " do you feel him bite now ? " 
 
 *' Now? No, d — nit! you see I have 
 *' got clear of him at last." 
 
 " But what I mean," added the lo- 
 quacious lady, '• is, that I have often 
 '' heard it said, that sailors when they have 
 " had the misfortune to lose an arm, 
 " often feel their fingers, for years after- 
 *' wards ; and I thought it might be the 
 " same about the oyster, and that you
 
 210 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " stiil felt him bite ; as I perceived you 
 *^ shook your hand." 
 
 " You would shake your hand too, I 
 ** believe," rejoined the Admiral, " if 
 " such a d — n'd accident had happened to 
 *' you : — but I would never recommend 
 *' it to any body to open oysters again/' 
 
 *' Oh!" said Miss Savannah, " I did not 
 '* know that you had opened it; I thought 
 *' you was only putting your hand into the 
 ** barrel ; I beg pardon ; but really, Ad- 
 " miral, you frightened me so much, that 
 " I scarcely know what I see or hear; but 
 " do pray have the goodness to describe 
 " the particulars of the accident. One 
 *' can not be too nmch guarded against 
 " such things : let us hear the narrative of 
 *' the whole affiiir." 
 
 *' Not from me, I promise you, ma- 
 '' dam ; this is no time for jesting," said
 
 MODERN TIMES. 211 
 
 " Ortolan, when a man is in violent 
 '^ pain, and his finger in danger of mor- 
 " tifying." 
 
 Miss Savannah recommended a phy- 
 sician to be sent for immediately, or the 
 part to be burnt, lest the bite of the oyster 
 should have the same effect as that of a 
 mad dog: and lastly, that the Admiral 
 would set out for Southampton to be dip- 
 ped in the salt-water. Thus she ran on, 
 till the company, almost exhausted with 
 laughing at the diversion which had been 
 afforded them , at the Admiral's expence, 
 took leave of each other, and departed to 
 their respective residences, excepting the 
 Countess of B , who was a perma- 
 nent visitor at Boneham-Lodge. 
 
 Sir Philip made his bow to the Countess 
 and Miss Courtly, and the Colonel at- 
 tended him to his carriage, laughing all
 
 212 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 the way about the Admiral and the oyster, 
 which, as he facetiously remarked, made 
 some amends for the Httle Count having 
 disappointed him of his company, and 
 the sullenness which liad attacked Sir 
 Nathan.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 213 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Sir Philip did not forget to mention to 
 his sister the intelHgence which he had 
 received concerning his nephew ; but Mrs. 
 Burrows, instead of joining her brother 
 in any invectives against poor Jack^ as 
 she used to call hira, — said, " I heartily 
 " wish he may come. I long to see 
 " him : for I had a thousand thinors to 
 '' say when he was here last, which your 
 " impetuosity compelled me to postpone. 
 *' When do you expect him, brother ? " 
 
 " I do not expect him at all," replied 
 Sir Philip : '' tlie Countess said that he 
 ^^ would probably come '^to visit her at 
 " Bonehani-Lodge, before she sets off for
 
 214 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *' London ; and I told her, that if Jack 
 '■ behaved properly, or something of that 
 *^ sort, that he might come to see me." 
 
 " A very pretty invitation truly," re- 
 plied Mrs. Burrows, ^^ poor fellow ! I 
 " shall write a note, and send it under 
 ^* cover to her Ladyship. I hate doing 
 " things so ungraciously. If you intend- 
 *' ed to invite him, why not do it in a 
 ** proper manner, more worthy of your- 
 " self, as well as your nephew ? " 
 
 " Why ? why did I not ? " said Sir 
 Philip ; " because, I suppose, I had not 
 " my elder sister at my elbow to prompt 
 '' me." 
 
 *' Nay, brother," replied Mrs. Burrows, 
 ^' you know I never interfere on any oc- 
 *' casion ; but it is very natural for me to 
 " wish to see my nephew: you know how 
 '' attentive to me he always is. Did he
 
 MODERN TIMES. 215 
 
 *^ not bring me twelve volumes of new 
 " publications the very last time he came 
 '' to the Hall." 
 
 " O, by-the-bye," as Courtly says, 
 resumed Sir Philip, " I saw Mr. Worth, 
 *^ and he promised to dine here to- 
 *^ morrow, and to bring with him his 
 " friend, the author of Modern Times''' 
 
 Mrs. Burrows immediately forgot her 
 former displeasure. — '^ Do you tell 
 " me so, brother ? And, of course, he 
 " informed you who the author really 
 " was." 
 
 ^^ Why no, my sister, he did not : and 
 *^ you would have said that it was very 
 *' impertinent in me to have asked him. 
 *' We talked a little on the subject, which 
 *' 1 contrived to introduce, by mention- 
 " ing your mistake about Mode)m, Times, " 
 - — ^'^ Not my mistake, brother," said the
 
 2l6 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 old lady, *^ your own mistake, for you 
 '^ very well know..." — ^^ I know what I say, 
 '^ sister," cried the Baronet, " I told him 
 " that you had made a mistake respecting 
 ** my remarks, and that...." — " My dear, 
 *' dear brother," again interrupted Mrs. 
 " Burrows, '^^ the mistake was your' own ; 
 '^ only let me bring to your recollection...'* 
 — " Sister," resumed the Baronet, ^^ you 
 " shall do no such thing. I tell you that 
 *' it was your mistake, and if you will 
 ^ not let me go on now, I will not speak 
 " another word all day." 
 
 *' Well then, go on, thou most pro- 
 " yoking of all mankind!" 
 
 " I say, sister, that somehow or other 
 '^ the parson and I got into conversation 
 " about Modern Times, and he said he 
 '' knew the author ; and, therefore, I 
 " begged him to introduce him to me>
 
 MODERN TIMES. 21 J 
 
 "•' and afterwards when I invited him to 
 " dine here, he promised that he would 
 *' bring the gentleman along with him. 
 *' Therefore, it is not worth w hile to quar- 
 " rel about whose mistake it was, or how^ 
 " the subject first came on the carpet." 
 
 " And pray did you invite any more 
 ** of the company, brother?" 
 
 " Not a single person. Let me see, 
 '' yes, I think I did. — No! I did not. 
 ** Thursday — something runs in my head 
 " about Thursday ! " 
 
 " So it ought to do, brother," added 
 the lady ; " for you surely might have 
 *' remembered that Sir William and Lady 
 " Bolder wood and Mr. and Mrs. Hanaper 
 '* and old Counsellor Brief, as you call 
 " him, and the Bradshaws, and I know 
 *' not how many naval officers, whom you 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 ,218 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " met with last week, are invited for to- 
 " morrow." 
 
 *' Cry you mercy, sister, I protest, and 
 " so they are, but I always forget these 
 " things," said the Baronet. " Well, 
 " well ; the more the merrier, let us hope, 
 " sister. I need not ask if you have 
 *' given proper orders ? — You are not 
 " displeased, however, that I invited Mr. 
 " Worth." 
 
 " So much otherwise, my dtar brother, 
 *' that I take it as a great compliment to 
 " myself: but I could have wished we 
 •* had been less crowded : however, we 
 ** may see him again probably, some other 
 " time, for he is really a very pleasant 
 " man. — But, brother, you must excuse 
 ** my giving you one caution ; — I am sure 
 *' you will :— pray do not say one word
 
 MODERN TIMES. 219 
 
 '• about the novel ; leave that entirely to 
 '' me. It would not much signify what 
 " you might say before Sir William Bol- 
 ^' derwood or my Lady, for they know no 
 *^ more about such things than yourself ; 
 " —excuse me, brother — but the Brad- 
 " shaws and Mrs. Hanaper are great read- 
 ** ers, and you might expose yourself if 
 *' you should happen to give utterance to 
 *' your opinions before those who at least 
 *' think themselves judges on such sub- 
 '' jects." 
 
 " Upon my word, sister, you entertain 
 ^' a high opinion of my understanding," 
 
 '' On every other subject, besides novels 
 '- and politics you know, I never contra- 
 ^' diet you, brother ; but on these *' 
 
 " Well, say no more," replied the Ba- 
 ronet, " I will be still as a mummy, sister, 
 L 2
 
 220 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 '^ motionless as a statue, and as silent as 
 '' the mandarins on the chimney-piece." 
 
 The next day, about an hour before din- 
 ner-time, a post-chaise drove up to the 
 door. ^' Bless me," said Mrs. Burrows, 
 who had not yet left her own apartments 
 in which she was accustomed frequently 
 to pass the whole of the morning, with 
 her books : ^^ who can have arrived so 
 *' soon ? A cargo of naval officers, I sup- 
 *^ pose; do, Betty, inquire of the butler." 
 
 She received for answer, that two cler- 
 gymen inquired for Sir Philip, who had 
 not yet returned from his morning ride. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows immediately supposed 
 that they must be Mr. Worth and his 
 friend the author, and desired that the 
 servant would conduct them into the li- 
 brary : and as soon as she had completed
 
 MODERN TIMES. 221 
 
 the business of the toilet, hurried down 
 stairs, in hopes of having an opportunity 
 of a few minutes' conversation with them, 
 before the arrival of the rest of the «Dm- 
 pany. 
 
 On entering the room, however, instead 
 of Mr. Worth, she found her brother's 
 old acquaintance Doctor Chiselholme,who, 
 as he was passing by, accompanied by 
 Mr. Mendham,his curate, had called to 
 pay his respects to Sir Philip English. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows, although a little disap- 
 pointed, was very glad to see the worthy 
 clergyman, and intreated both him and 
 his friend to add to the dinner-party ; but 
 the Doctor excused himself, being in haste 
 to return to his rectory, from which he 
 had been absent for some time, in conse- 
 quence of the death of hi-s aunt. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows condoled with the Doc-- 
 
 L 3
 
 222 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 tor on his loss ; and Chiselliolme, with all 
 that simplicity for which he was remark- 
 ably distinguished, observed^ that he trust- 
 ed that he had never done any thing to 
 shorten her days, as the old lady had com- 
 pleted her hundredth year. 
 
 Sir Philip having returned; and the 
 principal part of his company arrived, 
 when the name of Mr. Worth was an- 
 nounced. *1 he Baronet received him, at 
 his entrance, with a hearty welcome. 
 '' Mr. Worth," said he, ''you have at last 
 *' found your way to Blackwood Hall. If 
 *' it has been my fault that the track 
 " through the forest has been hitherto 
 '^ impassable, — do not suffer it, in future,' 
 *' to grow up for want of use. But where 
 " is your friend ? " Mr. Worth looked 
 surprised. '' The autlior," continued the 
 Baronet in a lower tone of voice.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 223 
 
 *^ 1 beg your pardon, Sir Philip/' said 
 Mr. Worth, and drawing a parcel from 
 his pocket, presented him with Modern 
 Times. 
 
 ** But I entertained hopes that you 
 *' would have brought with you the author 
 *' of the work," said Sir Philip. 
 
 Mr. Worth smiled, and by his answer 
 corrected the error into which the Baro- 
 net had inadvertently fallen. '^ Say no- 
 ** thing of the mistake to my sister," said 
 Sir Philip, — and several gentlemen enter- 
 ing the room at the same moment, left 
 Mr. Worth in order to receive them, with 
 his accustomed kindness. 
 
 Ail the company were now assembled, 
 excepting Counsellor Collis ; and Sir Phi- 
 lip ordered dinner, observing that it was a 
 thousand to one, but that the Counsellor, in 
 L 4
 
 224 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 a fit of absence, had totally forgotten his 
 appointment. 
 
 However, the Baronet was mistaken, 
 and when the dinner was nearly over, Mr. 
 Collis made his appearance. 
 
 Sir Philip received him very unceremo- 
 niously : " Counsellor," said he, " I am 
 *' glad to see you, at last. I do not ask 
 '^ what cause has detained you; but 
 *' though you have lost your dinner by 
 *' delay, you shall not go without your 
 '' dessert." 
 
 *' My brother ! " said Mrs. Burrows, 
 giving the Baronet a glance, the meaning 
 
 of which he perfectly understood. 
 
 M Why, sister," replied Sir Philip, " is 
 *' not the dessert just coming in, this mo- 
 " ment?" 
 
 The Baronet's entertainments wei^ air
 
 MODERN TIMES. 225 
 
 ways liberal ; and if they were not accom- 
 panied by the frivohty of unmeaning com- 
 pHments^ the loss of such froth was am- 
 ply compensated^ by the genuine good- 
 humour of the founder of the feast. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows had scarcely any oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to Mr. Worth before 
 dinner ; and the company was so nume- 
 rous that she afterwards abstained from any 
 remark on the subject which was upper- 
 most in her mind, lest her brother^ who 
 sate between Mrs. HanaperandMr. Brad- 
 shaw, should join in a conversation, for 
 which, as she had already pretty plainly 
 told him, she thought he was not duly 
 qualified. 
 
 A group of naval officers surrounded 
 
 Mr. Worth, and a gentleman who was 
 
 dressed in mourning, and seemed very 
 
 silent and observant^ sate opposite to him. . 
 
 n 5
 
 226 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 This person, Mrs. Burrows fixed upon as 
 the author of Modern Times, and accord- 
 ingly singled him out, to Sir William Bol- 
 derwood and the company at the upper end 
 of the table, as a gentleman of splendid ta- 
 lents, and agreeable manners, of whom 
 she had heard great commendations, but 
 who had never before visited at Blackwood - 
 HaH. 
 
 At a proper time, the ladies withdrew, 
 and many a toast went round. Sir Wil- 
 liam Bolderwood entertained the captains 
 with an account of his Merino flock, and 
 the sheep-shearing at Woburn : and one 
 of them, in return, gave the Knight the 
 particulars of the victory off Trafalgar, 
 with the bearings, soundings, and signals, 
 which had been omitted in the various 
 printed accounts of that memorable en- 
 gagement.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 22/ 
 
 In the mean time Sir Philip had inad- 
 vertently engaged Counsellor Collis, in a 
 discourse upon parochial settlements^ — 
 which the latter illustrated with quotations 
 and references innumerable ; having the 
 statutes at large, and all the commentaries 
 by which they have been amplified, so 
 firmly engrafted in his memory, that like 
 Mrs. Burrows's novels, they almost pres- 
 cribed to him the very mode of expression 
 which he was accustomed to use: inso- 
 much, that on ordinary occasions he was 
 sometimes so completely occupied by his 
 studies, that he has been known to run 
 through the whole of the statutes relative 
 to ejectments, before he would order a 
 pig to be driven out of his garden. 
 
 The Counsellor was, however, perfect- 
 ly good-humoured, and always seemed as 
 l6
 
 228 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 much pleased as his friends by the relation 
 of his peculiarities. 
 
 Two of the naval officers who had ac- 
 cepted the Baronet's invitation, not mere- 
 ly from a desire to partake of his hospita- 
 lity, but partly from an inclination to see. 
 the charming grounds which surrounded 
 the Hall^ had withdrawn unnoticed by 
 Sir Philip, to take a walk in the gardens 
 ' before tea. They were accompanied by 
 the gentleman, who had been mistaken 
 by Mrs. Burrows for Mr. Wortli's friend 
 the author ; and when they had complet- 
 ed their perambulation, instead of return- 
 ing to the rest of the gentlemen, who 
 had not yet left their wine, they proceeded 
 to the drawing-room, and rejoined the la- 
 ' dies at tea. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows thought she had now a
 
 MODERN TIMES. 229 
 
 proper opportunity of addressing herself 
 to the stranger, and by way of introduc- 
 tion remarked : — ^' I suppose. Sir, my bro- 
 '^ ther will not part w ith your friend, Mr. 
 '' Worth." 
 
 '^ Madame!'* replied the stranger, with 
 a low bow, " me ver litel understand Ang- 
 '^ lishl" 
 
 Now it happened that Mrs. Burrows, 
 next to her acquaintance with fashionable 
 literature, valued herself upon her know- 
 ledge of physiognomy, and that sort of 
 discrimination which almost intuitively 
 enables a person to form a sort of judg- 
 ment of those whom they meet with, even 
 before they open their mouths. 
 
 She had been unluckily descanting upon. 
 Ike abilities, the wit, and learning of the 
 Mlent gentleman ; and not entertaining the 
 least doubt respecting the identity of the
 
 230 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 person upon whom she had conferred all 
 the honours of authorship, and all the 
 applause of the most favoured among the 
 literati, had prepared Lady Bolderwood 
 and the company for a prodigy of wit 
 and pleasantry, and they accordingly await- 
 ed the opening of his lips, with as much 
 impatience as the Siamese the rising of 
 the full moon. Nor would the latter be 
 much more surprised, if the monster from 
 whose clutches they imagine the luminary 
 to have just escaped, were to seize hold 
 of it^ and carry it away before their eyes, 
 than were the former on hearing the reply 
 of the supposed author. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows herself was astonished, 
 beyond measure. " 1 beg pardon, Sir," 
 said she, with more hesitation than she 
 had ever before manifested, in her whole
 
 MODERN TIMES. 231 
 
 life, — " I mistook you for the gentleman 
 *^ who accompanied Mr. Worth." 
 
 '' Wordt! Wordt!" rejoined the fo- 
 reigner (who was a Danish officer, and 
 having chanced to be in company with the 
 gentlemen, whom Sir Philip English had 
 invited to dine at Blackwood-Hall, had 
 been included in the party) " no I tank 
 '^ you madam e." 
 
 The mistake being explained by one of 
 his companions, the stranger was relieved 
 from farther importunity ; but, the vexa- 
 tion of Mrs. Burrows was not at all alle- 
 viated. She had thus convicted herself 
 of a blunder, which if it had occurred to 
 any other person in company, not except- 
 ing her brother, she would have thought 
 unpardonable. 
 
 In order to obliterate her own chagrin
 
 232 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 as much as possible, she called for cards 
 immediately, and the remainder of the 
 company having joined them, she had the 
 satisfaction of sitting down to whist with 
 Mr. Worth ; and waited in momentary 
 expectation of hearing him address some 
 one or other of the gentlemen, in such a 
 manner as to make a discovery of the 
 person for whom she had mistaken the fo- 
 reigner. Mr. Worth, however, in obe- 
 dience to the hint, which he had received 
 from Sir Phihp, avoided saying any thing 
 about the novel : and seemed to confine 
 his attention entirely to the company at 
 the table, and the cards in his hand. 
 
 There were two more tables ; and the 
 company were so much occupied by their 
 respective games, that with the exception, 
 of a conversation between Sir Philip Eng-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 233 
 
 lish and Mr. Hanaper, who had retired 
 to the farther side of the drawing-room, 
 and spoke in a very low tone of voice, 
 that they might not disturb the whist 
 players, almost a dead silence had, for 
 some time prevailed; — when, in a mo- 
 ment, as if by a consentaneous impulse, 
 the naval officers, the foreigner. Sir Wil- 
 liam Bolderwood, the young ladies, and, 
 in short, every person in the room except- 
 ing Mrs. Burrows, who was intent upon 
 her cards to save a particular point of the 
 game, were convulsed by an immoderate 
 peal of laughter. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows started almost from her 
 seat, and to her inexpressible surprise, 
 beheld the object of merriment standing 
 at her elbow, with his usual serenity, to- 
 tally unconscious of being the cause of so 
 much diversion. It was Counsellor Gol-
 
 234 MODERN. TIMES. 
 
 lis, who had left his chapeau de bras be- 
 low stairs, and supplied the place of it, 
 under his arm, with a certain mahogany 
 cover, — not intended for the head, but ex- 
 tremely useful in another place, at which 
 the reader may easily guess. 
 
 But how successful soever he may be, in 
 such a conjecture, it is impossible for him 
 to imagine the effect which was produced 
 by the inflexible gravity of the old Coun- 
 sellor, who, not in the least suspecting 
 himself to be the object of laughter, ma- 
 nifested no disposition to remove from the 
 most conspicuous part of the room, in 
 which he had stationed himself, until Sir 
 Philip, in an interval between the bursts 
 of laughter, called out : " my dear Collis, 
 *^ what the devil have you got under your 
 '' arm?" 
 
 The Counsellor aroused from his reverie.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 235 
 
 in much the same manner as a traveller^ 
 when some one cries out to him, not to 
 tread on a snake, — hastily Hfting up his 
 arm, let fall the shield \ which, as if 
 ashamed of having been the laughing- 
 stock of the company, spontaneously rol- 
 led towards the door, whilst the Counsel- 
 lor looked with the most wisthil astonish- 
 ment, first at the company who reiterated 
 their laughter, and next at the self-mov- 
 ing piece of mahogany, into which his 
 chapeau de bras seemed to have been me- 
 tamorphosed ; nor could he at all reconcile 
 the circumstance to his own mind, until 
 he had actually picked up the fugitive and 
 examined it. '^ By St. Jaques, it must 
 ^' have been so," muttered the Counsel- 
 lor, '' here, Harry," to Sir Philips servant, 
 '^ do take this thing away, and see if you 
 '^ can find my hat. Really, Mrs. Bur-
 
 236 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ rows, I ought to beg pardon of yon, and 
 
 '^ the good company, for the interruption 
 
 *^ I have occasioned. I am sure I knew 
 
 '^ nothing about the matter. I was all 
 
 " the time thinking of Comyns's Digest, 
 
 " Sir Philip, about which we had been 
 
 '^ talking, and I believe the clause is in 
 
 " the first volume, and about the two hun- 
 
 " dred and seventy-ninth page ! "
 
 MODERN TIMES. 237 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sir Philip English had engaged Mr. 
 Worth to remain at Blackwood Hall as 
 long as his ecclesiastical duties would per- 
 mit him to be absent from his vicarage ; 
 and the rest of the company having taken 
 their leave, he sate down with the Baronet 
 and Mrs. Burrows to a comfortable sup- 
 per : for Sir Philip often said that as his 
 ancestors had always been accustomed to 
 finish the day with a regular meal, and 
 he himself had never experienced any ill 
 consequences from the practice, he knew 
 no reason for excluding supper from the 
 rank it used to hold among domestic en- 
 joyments. He had no notion of expel-
 
 23S MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ling mince-pie and custard from the cen- 
 tral table to the side-board, or sitting 
 down without napkins, or munching a 
 crust in a corner, instead of following the 
 good example of those who had enabled 
 him to treat his friends like a gentleman. 
 
 " Well, now the company are gone," 
 said the Baronet, " I suppose there will 
 " be no harm in introducing your friend 
 " the author, to my sister." 
 
 " Pray where ? did you leave him, Sir 
 ^^ Philip," said the parson. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows testified her surprise by 
 her looks. " What," said she to herself, 
 " has he been all this time in the house, 
 " without my knowing it r " — But her 
 ingenuity immediately suggested, that 
 perhaps, like many other unfortunate au- 
 thors, his appearance might not be such 
 as would have rendered it proper to intro-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 23^ 
 
 duce him to a large and promiscuous com- 
 pany. — Whilst Sir Philip left the room to 
 fetch the book, Mrs. Burrows very be- 
 nevolently remarked to Mr. Worth: — 
 '^ I am glad that I did not know the au- 
 " thor was in the house, for he is so 
 '^ great a favourite of mine, that I 
 " should not have had any comfort till I 
 " could have seen him : from the mo- 
 *'* ment my brother mentioned, that he 
 '' expected you would bring him to 
 " Blackwood-Hall, 1 have almost counted 
 ^' the hours which should introduce me 
 " to a personal acquaintance with . . . " 
 At this instant the door opened, Mrs. 
 Burrows arose from her seat, and to do as 
 much honour as possible to her expected 
 visitor, reached a chair herself, and pre- 
 pared to drop one of her best courtesies, — 
 when lo ! Sir Philip entered the room
 
 340 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 with three volumes of Modem Times ia 
 his hand. 
 
 " I thought, brother," said she, ready 
 to sink to the floor with vexation and dis- 
 appointment, " that the author himself 
 " was here." 
 
 ^^ No, sister ; only his proxy has any 
 ^^ proximity to us at present ! " 
 
 ^^ This is excessively provoking, " ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Burrows, — but well know- 
 ing that Sir Phihp's puns, like Sancho 
 Pan9a's proverbs, were innumerable, she 
 avoided further remark, and turning to 
 Mr. Worth as if for explanation ; he very 
 politely observed, that, from some inad- 
 vertence of his own, he had conveyed to 
 Sir Philip, the idea that it was his inten- 
 tion to introduce the author in proprid 
 persond : and thus occasioned the mistake, 
 for which he begged leave to apologize.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 241 
 
 as it originated entirely in his own in- 
 cautious manner of expressing himself. 
 
 " From you, INIr. Worth, " replied 
 Mrs. Burrows, ^^ no kind of apology is 
 ^' necessary. I know the whole of the 
 '^ business as well as if I had been pre- 
 *' sent : — it was not any want of precision 
 ^^ on your part, but an unfortunate knack 
 ^^ which my brother has : — yes, my dear 
 " brother," addressing herself to the 
 Baronet, ^' you know you have, of making 
 " a mistake whenever it is at all practi- 
 " cable. I have often told you how much 
 " you resemble Parson Adams, in Field- 
 " ing's incomparable Joseph Andrews. 
 " If there were a bare possibility of mis- 
 " taking a road, such as by turning to the 
 " right hand instead of the left, Adams 
 " was sure to blunder ;— just such a 
 '' knack have you of misquoting and mis- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " understanding ; with the very best in- 
 ^' tentions in the world, — almost, almost 
 ^^ as bad as old counsellor Collis." 
 
 '^ Go on, sister," said Sir Philip, 
 laughing, with great good-humour, *^ pray 
 " go on." 
 
 EaVly the next morning, as Mr. 
 Worth and Sir Philip were preparing to 
 take a ride together, an express arrived 
 with a letter for Sir Philip, to inform him 
 that Captain English had been thrown 
 out of a tandem on the road from Brighton, 
 and was lying at Ryegate in a very dan- 
 gerous condition. 
 
 The Baronet carried the letter to his 
 sister, who suggested that he should set 
 out without delay, to visit his nephew : 
 but Sir Philip positively refused. He was 
 so much offended by the duplicity of the 
 Captain, in having pretended that he was
 
 MODERN TIMES. 243 
 
 going to Scarborough instead of Brighton^ 
 that he said^ he considered Jack English 
 no better than a swindler ; and would not 
 go one step out of his house^ on his ac- 
 count. 
 
 ^' Brother/' said Mrs. Burrows^ '^ 1 
 '^ insist upon it that you go ; or I will 
 '^ set out myself ; therefore, if you are re- 
 '^ solved to be so cruel to your nephew, as 
 ^^ to leave him to die at an inn, pray send 
 *^ your servant, and order a post-chaise 
 '^^ for me, immediately." 
 
 The Baronet paused : — his sister's 
 speech had made an impression : he felt 
 something rise up in his throat, and a 
 tingling sensation in his eyes to which he 
 was not accustomed. This was a conflict 
 between anger and affection. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation, he told his 
 sister that if she must go, she should 
 M 2
 
 ^44 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 make use of his carriage. After some al- 
 tercation this was agreed upon ; and the 
 necessary directions were accordingly 
 given^ to prepare for the journey. 
 
 In a few minutes afterwards. Sir Phihp 
 began to express his apprehensions, that 
 his sister might endanger her health, 
 which was then very infirm and precarious, 
 by so long a journey. 
 
 " All this is nothing to the purpose, 
 ^' my dear brother," said Mrs. Burrows. 
 ^' I have no selfish considerations : let 
 '^ mejirst endeavour to give assist mice to 
 *^ my nephew, ?ioiv he is in want of it ; 
 (^ and afterivards talk of my own aihnents 
 '' and maladies. Perhaps he may have 
 " broken a leg or an arm ; — let me see 
 " the letter." 
 
 " There it is," said the Baronet, "I 
 ^^ can not read above half of it ; I think
 
 MODERN TIMES. 245 
 
 '^ it says something about a doctor, but I 
 *^ do not comprehend it, exactly." 
 
 Mrs. Burrows hastily looked through 
 this curious epistle, and immediately put 
 it in her pocket ; for she knew that an 
 explanation of the contents would only 
 increase the displeasure of her brother ; 
 and make him still more angry with the 
 Captain. 
 
 The letter was from a young nobleman, 
 the intimate friend and associate of Jack 
 English, who had accompanied him from 
 Brighton in a tandem, drawn by donkeys, 
 (it was this word which the Baronet, not 
 being much accustomed to such manu- 
 scripts, had mistaken for doctors), and in 
 running a race against a caravan on the 
 road, had been overturned into a pit, 
 the carriage broken to pieces, Captain 
 
 M a
 
 24^ MODERN TIMES. 
 
 English excessively bruised^ and Lord Ri- 
 vulet deprived of two of his front teeth. 
 
 Sir Philip English was more and more 
 uneasy, as the time approached for his 
 sister's departure ; and at length told her, 
 that since she had determined to under- 
 take the journey, although he had no pity 
 for the Captain, out of regard for her, 
 he would himself accompany her to Rye- 
 gate. 
 
 *^ If I did not know your disposition, 
 "^ brother, so well," said Mrs. Burrows, 
 " that I am sure of making a convert of 
 " you before you get to the end of the 
 " journey, I would not, for the world, 
 *^ set my foot in the same coach with a 
 '* person who refuses to pity my poor 
 *^ nephew. But, I know, that the mo- 
 " ment you see him, all your resentment 
 *^ will give place to sentiments more wor-
 
 MODE«RN TIMES. 247 
 
 *' thy of yourself and of him. — 1 dare 
 ^' say there was some mistake about Scar- 
 " borough. Most hkely one of your 
 " own blunders." 
 
 The latter part of the sentence was lost 
 upon Sir Philip, who was engaged in 
 giving directions to his valet to put up the 
 clothes he should want, or rather wish 
 for ; — for he had about him so much of 
 the old batchelor, in this respect, that 
 he usually travelled with almost as much 
 baggage, as is allowed for a regiment of 
 foot. 
 
 Sir Philip would have persuaded Mr. 
 Worth to accompany them, but he ex* 
 cused himself on account of his parochial 
 duties : and therefore, after due apologies 
 on both sides, the clergyman took his 
 Jeave, promising to wait upon Sir Philip, 
 as soon as b^ returned to Blackwood Hall. 
 M 4
 
 Ii48 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 Mrs. Burrows had taken breakfast^ and 
 connpleted the preparations for her de- 
 parture : — the coach was at the door, and 
 a multitude of packages of the Baj'onet 
 bestowed in their proper places, when just 
 as they as they were stepping into the 
 carriage. Sir Philip recollected that he had 
 invited a large party to dine with him, on 
 ' the next day : and that it would be neces- 
 sary to send some excuses to prevent the 
 disappointment of the company. 
 
 Mrs Burrows, whose patience was al- 
 ready exhausted by the delay which hatl 
 been occasioned by the stowage of her 
 brother's paraphernalia, as she called it, 
 was now still more out of humour ; and 
 sent message after] message to hasten the 
 attendance of Sir Philip, who, at last, 
 made his appearance, with his gloves in 
 his hand, and stepped into the coach.
 
 MODERN TIMES. 249 
 
 Scarcely was the door shut^ before the 
 Baronet calHng for his old servant, Harry, 
 reminded him, that they had forgotten a 
 favourite great coat, which he thought 
 might be wanted, a walking-cane, and a 
 perspective-glass. 
 
 The coat was brought, but it was some 
 time before the glass could be found : at 
 last that was also forthcoming. ^^ Now, 
 ^^ my dear, brother," said Mrs. Burrows, 
 " I hope it is not possible for you to con- 
 '^ trive another moment's delay." — " Only 
 " just to get my little book of the roads," 
 replied Sir Philip, ^^ we may not want it, 
 " indeed ; but such things should always 
 '^ be at hand." Harry went for the book 
 of maps, and, at length, the coach moved 
 forward, and relays of horses being ready, 
 they reached Ryegate the same night. 
 
 Neither the Baronet nor Mrs. Burrows, 
 M 5
 
 260 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 would have known their nephew, so 
 much was he altered in consequence of 
 the accident which had happened to him. . 
 He, however, assured them, that he did 
 not think he had incurred any very se- 
 rious damage, and had yielded to the 
 importunity of others, rather than his 
 own wishes, in allowing hi« aunt and Sir 
 Philip to be disturbed on his account. 
 He was very much bruised, his face was 
 red and scratched all over, as if he had 
 been rolled among brambles, exquisitely 
 sore, and swollen to such a degree, that 
 he could scarcely open his eyes. 
 * *^ What medical advice have you had ? " 
 said Mrs. Burrows. — " Only a country 
 *^ apothecary,** replied Jack; '^ but Lord 
 '^ Rivulet would not be satisfied with- 
 " out assistance from town ; and is, there-
 
 MODERN TIMES. 251 
 
 ^^ fore, gone himself for a physician, 
 ^^ whom I every moment expect." 
 
 ^^ Lord Rivulet! " said the Baronet^ 
 ^^ how did he go ? Upon a dead horse, 
 " in a fish cart ? '* 
 
 '^ My dear uncle," said English, " these 
 ^* are only follies of youth : — when you 
 *' was a young man, I dare say you were 
 ^^ guilty of some levities, yourself." 
 
 *^ I never swindled my relations," re- 
 plied the Baronet, " under the pretext of 
 " having a long journey to make into the 
 ^^ north, whilst, all the time, I only in- 
 *^ tended to drive a tandem round the 
 " Steyne at Brighton." 
 
 " Nay, my dear Sir," said the Captain, 
 " you wrong me, if you suppose me capa- 
 " ble of such duplicity. — I will explain the 
 " matter. I really did intend to be atScar- 
 '^ borough before this time; but the fellow 
 M 6
 
 2b2 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 "' with whom I made my bet, has lost his 
 ^' grandMher, and is gone into Kent, to 
 *^ take possession of the estate, and get 
 " a little ready; and the money you 
 " lent me is actually staked for the per- 
 *^ formance of the bet, as soon as little 
 ^^ Tommy arrives." 
 
 *' Who the devil is little Tommy ?^ 
 said Sir Philip. 
 
 " He is the eldest son of a peer," said 
 English; " but we always call him by that 
 " name." 
 
 '' And my money staked, I suppose, on 
 " an ass-race," continued the BaroneL — 
 Here Mrs. Burrows interposed, and in- 
 sisted, that no farther discussion of old 
 grievances should take place, at present. 
 
 Lord Rivulet returned from London the 
 next morning, bringing intelligence that 
 his friend, Doctor Destiny, was engaged
 
 MODERN TIMES. 253 
 
 to set out for Brighton that very day, and 
 would visit Captain English in his way 
 thither. 
 
 The apothecary, who had previously 
 attended, was ordered to hold himself in 
 readiness to meet the Doctor, for whose 
 arrival Sir Philip and his sister, were be- 
 come very anxious, as the applications hi- 
 therto made use of, had increased the 
 swelling and inflammation of the face, so 
 that poor English could scarcely see at all. 
 
 At length. Doctor Destiny made his 
 
 appearance ; expressed the greatest 
 
 anxiety lest he should not complete his 
 journey in good time ; regretted exceed- 
 ingly, that he should be detained on the 
 road ; and intimated, that nothing but his 
 great regard for Lord Rivulet and his 
 father, could have induced him to stop a
 
 t64 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 single moment even if the Premier had 
 sent for him» 
 
 Sir Phihp was about to mention to the 
 Doctor, the nature of the accident which 
 had occasioned his nephew to require me- 
 dical assistance ; but the son of Escula- 
 pius stopped him short : — *' I have no 
 ^^ time. Sir Philip, for conversation, I 
 " shall know every thing about the case, 
 " the moment I see your nephew ; " and 
 then desired to be conducted to the cham- 
 ber of his patient. 
 
 Destiny, either through hurry or inad- 
 vertence, had conceived that i/oung Jack 
 English, for by that familiar appellation 
 Lord Rivulet had denominated his friend, 
 was a school-boy, instead of a Captain in 
 the Guards ; and, unfortunately, the slight 
 and slender figure of Captain English, and
 
 MODERN TIMES. 255 
 
 his delicacy of features, seemed to coun- 
 tenance the Doctor in that idea, and thus 
 the sight of his patient confirmed him in 
 the error of his opinion. 
 
 The moment he entered the room, and 
 observed poor Jack's face covered with a 
 fiery redness and innumerable scratches and 
 vesicles everywhere about it, ^^ I see, I see,'* 
 cried the Doctor. '^ Poor young gentle- 
 ^^ man ; your face is very sore and paia- 
 " ful, is it not?" 
 
 '^ Excessively sOj indeed," replied the 
 Captain, 
 
 " Let me look at your arm ? " said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 The Captain complied, observing at the 
 same time, '' I have been already bled, 
 *^ by Mr, Hartshorn, the apothecary." 
 
 ^' Very well, very well;" replied the 
 Doctor, ^[ we will endeavour to make you
 
 256 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 " better. The case is very clear, Sir Phi- 
 " lip:" — and immediately leaving the 
 room, called for pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 '^ Pray Doctor, what do you think of 
 ^^ my nephew ? " said Sir Philip, ^^ is he 
 ^^ in great danger ? " 
 
 ^^ No, Sir Philip, no danger of death, 
 ^^ but it will be a long time before this 
 '^ humour is subdued : — strange infatu- 
 ^^ ation ! You are convinced, I dare say, 
 *^ of the cause of all this mischief." 
 
 '' O, yes," replied Sir Philip; '^'^ too 
 ^^ well aware of that Doctor. All his own 
 *^ fault ; he can blame no body but him- 
 « self." 
 
 Destiny shook his head. The pres- 
 cription being finished. Sir Philip slipped 
 five guineas into his hand. " Pray, Sir 
 *^ Philip," said the Doctor, '^ let your 
 " nephew exactly follow my prescription :
 
 MODERN TIMES. 25? 
 
 " there is no other man in England, who 
 " knows any thing about these complaints 
 " besides myself. I will look in upon 
 " him again, on my return:" — and so 
 saying, seated himself in his gig, and 
 ivhipped away for Brighton. 
 
 At this moment the apothecary arrived, 
 out of breath ; and fearing that he might 
 incur the imputation of negligence, exert- 
 ed himself to overtake the Doctor ; which 
 having done, and inquired what he 
 thought of the case ) 
 
 *' There can be but one opinion," said 
 Destiny: *^ lues hovilla exa.ct]y as I have 
 " described it, in my book : the same ex- 
 *^ cessive redness ; the face puffed up, par- 
 '^ ticularly about the eyes, I observe sfra^ 
 ^* bismus coming on. I wish Mr. Harts- 
 " horn, you would collect the particulars 
 ^^ for me : how long it is since he had the
 
 258 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 ^^ CoW'PojCy and who vaccinated him, 
 ^^ Be correct about names and dates ; — 
 '^ the mark on his arm is almost worn out: 
 ^^ I looked^ but could scarcely perceive it. 
 " I am in a great hurry now. You will 
 *^ find my prescription. I shall see you 
 ^' again as I return to town/* 
 
 The Doctor drove on, and left Harts- 
 horn in the greatest imaginable perplex- 
 ity. It would be tedious to repeat all the 
 conjectures of Sir Philip and Mrs. Bur- 
 rows, who had never seen this physician 
 before : and all the attempts of Mr. Harts^ 
 horn to reconcile himself to the belief that 
 the Doctor had not mistaken him for some 
 other person, and was all the time speak- 
 ing of some other patient, were ineftec- 
 tual : — but the truth was that Destiny had 
 suffered his head to be so completely oc- 
 cupied by a pamphlet which he had then 
 in the press, in opposition to the practice
 
 MODERN TIMES. 259 
 
 of vaccination^ that he could scarcely think 
 of any thing else ; and had no sooner be- 
 held the floridness and pimples upon Cap- 
 tain English's face, than he immediately 
 set them down as the direful consequen- 
 ces of the Cow-Pox. 
 
 The Captain was^ at the time of the ac- 
 cident, so completely stunned by the fall, 
 that he had a very imperfect recollection 
 afterwards, of what had really happened 
 to him. 
 
 There was a cottage near the spot, and 
 the good woman belonging to it, lent her 
 assistance to Lord Rivulet's servant, in 
 dragging English from a bed of nettles ; 
 into .the very midst of which he had been 
 thrown. These nettles had, in fact, occa- 
 sioned the soreness, inflammation, and 
 pain, which had principally distressed 
 him, and deceived the Doctor.
 
 260 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 The apothecary^ who had never dreamt 
 of any such thing as looking for the cflM565 
 of a disease, in order to adapt his reme- 
 dies^ was perfectly at a loss about the mat- 
 ter. Lord Rivulet had been too much 
 engaged with washing his own face, exa- 
 ming the devastations made in his mouth 
 by the aid of a pocket mirror, and look- 
 ing for the two teeth he had lost among the 
 gravel of the turnpike road, to regard the 
 place where his friend Jack had fallen ; 
 and the servant, who was a Swiss, had been 
 immediately sent off with intelligence to 
 Sir Philip English ; so that no one ima- 
 gined the real state of the case, until about 
 a quarter of an hour after Doctor Destiny 
 had taken leave ; when the poor woman 
 came from her cottage to inquire after the 
 Captain : and being questioned by Mrs.
 
 MODERN TIMES, 
 
 261 
 
 Burrows relative to the accident, explain- 
 ed it, in the manner above mentioned. 
 
 " I thought there was something very, 
 *^ strange in the appearance of his face," 
 said Mrs. Burrows ; *^ and now it is ac- 
 '^ counted for." 
 
 ^' Dear Madam," said the poor woman, 
 ^^ there is nothing in the world so good to 
 ^^ cure the bite of a stinging nettle as vine- 
 *^ gar and brandy, and if you vv^ill onfy 
 *^ have it used twice or three times, I am 
 " sure the good gentleman will soon be 
 '' well." 
 
 Endish wanted but little inducement 
 to prefer this application to those which 
 had already occasioned him so much pain ; 
 and it is scarcely necessary to add, that 
 he derived almost immediate relief from 
 the use of it. 
 
 Sir Philip told the old woman, that he
 
 263 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 thought her a much better physician than 
 the London doctor, and accordingly made 
 her also a present of a fee of five guineas. 
 
 Lord Rivulet had retired to bed, on 
 his return from town, in consequence of 
 the fatigue of the journey, vs^hich he had 
 performed with uncommon celerity, hav- 
 ing rode at the rate of fifteen miles an 
 hour! But finding himself pretty well 
 recovered, towards evening got up and pre- 
 sented himself to Mrs. Burrows and Sir 
 Philip English, who although, they could 
 not avoid blaming their nephew for his 
 attachment to such a hair-brained associate, 
 were nevertheless under a real obligation 
 to his Lordship, for the kindness and soli- 
 citude he had manifested on account of 
 English. 
 
 His Lordship was much gratified to 
 find his friend so much benefited by the
 
 MODERN TIMES. 263 
 
 old woman's recipe : but, when Mrs. Bur- 
 rows relatod to him an account of the ex- 
 traordinary behaviour of his friend Doctor 
 Destiny, he shrugged up his shoulders, 
 raised himself on tiptoe and pointing 
 to his forehead, exclaimed — " no man 
 *^ living, madam, is always wise." Then 
 putting on his hat, a little over the left eye, 
 squaring his left elbow in the attitude of 
 a coachman, and imitating with his fin- 
 gers and cheeks the crack of a whip, 
 ^^ D — me ! but the old buck is as ffood a 
 ^^ whip as the best of them, excepting 
 " Sir Willoughby Aston, and the mem- 
 ^' hers of the Club. I thought he had 
 *^ known better : if I had been up, ma- 
 ^' dam, d — me! but I would have set him 
 '^ right about the disease." 
 
 " He ought to have set himself right," 
 said Mrs. Burrows ; " it was a most into-
 
 ^64 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 *' lerable blunder, and entirely the con- 
 ^' sequence of being in a hurry, and such 
 " blunders, as the Spectator says, should 
 *^ never be pardoned. I do assure you, 
 " my Lord, that it has given me so bad 
 ^' an opinion of the Doctor, that I would 
 " not suffer him to attend my dog." 
 
 '^ No: madam! d — me if he would. — 
 ^' The old fellow hates dogs almost as 
 " much as cows ; and ever since a certain 
 '' nobleman took up a cur in the street, 
 " and carried him home in his arms, 
 '^ Destiny has invariably avoided meeting 
 " his Lordship (excepting once at a chris- 
 " tening) for fear he should have learned 
 " to bite." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by Cox, Son, and Baylis, 
 
 No. 75, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 
 
 London.
 
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