The Attache or Sam Slick in England Part 21

"Now, Squire, if you see Lord Stanley, tell him that story of the Prince de Joinville's horse; but before you get so far as that, pin him by admissions. When you want to get a man on the hip, ax him a question or two, and get his answers, and then you have him in a corner, he must stand and let you put on the bridle. He cant help it no how, he can fix it.

"Says you, 'My Lord'--don't forget his t.i.tle--every man likes the sound of that, it's music to his ears, it's like our splendid national air, Yankee Doodle, you never get tired of it. 'My Lord,' sais you, 'what do you suppose is the reason the French keep Algiers?' Well, he'll up and say, it's an outlet for the fiery spirits of France, it gives them employment and an opportunity to distinguish themselves, and what the climate and the inimy spare, become valuable officers. It makes good soldiers out of bad subjects.

"'Do you call that good policy?' sais you.

"Well, he's a trump, is Mr. Stanley, at least folks say so; and he'll say right off the reel 'onquestionably it is--excellent policy.'

"When he says that, you have him bagged, he may flounder and spring like a salmon jist caught; but he can't out of the landin' net. You've got him, and no mistake. Sais you 'what outlet have you for the colonies?'

"Well, he'll scratch his head and stare at that, for a s.p.a.ce. He'll hum and haw a little to get breath, for he never thought of that afore, since he grow'd up; but he's no fool, I can tell you, and he'll out with his mould, run an answer and be ready for you in no time. He'll say, 'They don't require none. Sir. They have no redundant population. They are an outlet themselves.'

"Sais you, 'I wasn't talking of an outlet for population, for France or the provinces nother. I was talking of an outlet for the clever men, for the onquiet ones, for the fiery spirits.'

"'For that. Sir,' he will say, 'they have the local patronage.'

"'Oh!' sais you, 'I warn't aware. I beg pardon, I have been absent some time, as long as twenty days or perhaps twenty-five, there must have been great changes, since I left.'

"'The garrison,' sais you.

"'Is English,' sais he.

"'The armed s.h.i.+ps in the harbour?'

"'English.'

"'The governor and his secretary?'

"'English.'

"'The princ.i.p.al officer of customs and princ.i.p.al part of his deputies?'

"'English.'

"'The commissariat and the staff?'

"'English to a man.'

"'The dockyard people?'

"'English.'

"'The postmaster giniral?'

"'English.'

"'What, English?' sais you, and look all surprise, as if you didn't know. 'I thought he was a colonist, seein' the province pays so much for the mails.'

"'No,' he'll say, 'not now; we have jist sent an English one over, for we find it's a good thing that.'

"'One word more,' sais you, 'and I have done. If your army officers out there, get leave of absence, do you stop their pay?'

"'No.'

"'Do you sarve native colonists the same way?'

"'No, we stop half their salaries.'

"'Exactly,' sais you, 'make them feel the difference. Always make a n.i.g.g.e.r feel he is a n.i.g.g.e.r, or he'll get sa.s.sy, you may depend. As for patronage,' sais you, 'you know as well as I do, that all that's not worth havin', is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of militia, gets no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote's tailor, he works for nothin' and finds thread. Any other little matters of the same kind, that n.o.body wants, and n.o.body else will take; if Blue-nose makes interest for, and has good luck, he can get as a great favour, to conciliate his countrymen. No, Minister,' sais you, 'you are a clever man, every body sais you are a brick; and if you ain't, you talk more like one, than any body I have seen this while past. I don't want no office myself, if I did p'raps, I wouldn't talk about patronage this way; but I am a colonist, I want to see the colonists remain so.

They _are_ attached to England, that is a fact, keep them so, by making them Englishmen. Throw the door wide open; patronise them; enlist them in the imperial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for honours and let them win them, if they can. If they don't, it's their own fault, and cuss 'em they ought to be kicked, for if they ain't too lazy, there is no mistake in 'em, that's a fact. The country will be proud of them, if they go ahead. Their language will change then. It will be _our_ army, the delighted critters will say, not the English army; _our_ navy, _our_ church, _our_ parliament, _our_ aristocracy, &c., and the word English will be left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that endearin' word "our" will be insarted. Do this, and you will shew yourself the first statesman of modern times. You'll rise right up to the top of the pot, you'll go clean over Peel's head, as your folks go over ourn, not by jumpin' over him, but by takin' him by the neck and squeezin' him down. You 'manc.i.p.ated the blacks, now liberate the colonists and make Englishmen of them, and see whether the goneys won't grin from ear to ear, and shew their teeth, as well as the n.i.g.g.e.rs did. Don't let Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that if you like, if it will help your argument,) don't let travellin' Yankee clockmakers tell such stories, against _your_ justice and _our_ pride as that of the Prince de Joinville and his horse.'"

CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.

"Here," said Mr. Sick, "is an invitation for you and me, and minister to go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, down to Yorks.h.i.+re. You can go if you like, and for once, p'raps it's worth goin' to see how these chaps first kill time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin', drinkin', sleepin', growlin', fowlin', and huntin' kills time; and gout, aperplexy, dispepsy, and blue devils kills them. They are like two fightin' dogs, one dies of the thras.h.i.+n' he gets, and t'other dies of the wounds he got a killin' of him. t.i.t for tat; what's sarce for the goose, is sarce for the gander.

"If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang me if I do. The only thing is, it'll puzzle you to get him away, if he gets down there.

You never see such a crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He flies right off the handle for nothin'. He goes strayin' away off in the fields and gullies, a browsin' about with a hammer, crackin' up bits of stones like walnuts, or pickin' up old weeds, faded flowers, and what not; and stands starin' at 'em for ever so long, through his eye-gla.s.s, and keeps a savin' to himself, 'Wonderful provision of natur!' Airth and seas! what does he mean? How long would a man live on such provision, I should like to know, as them bitter yarbs.

"Well, then, he'll jist as soon set down and jaw away by the hour together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle lookin' child, as if it was a nice spry little dog he was a trainin' of for treein'

partridges; or talk poetry with the galls, or corn-law with the patriots, or any thing. Nothin' comes amiss to him.

"But what provokes me, is to hear him go blartin' all over the country about home scenes, and beautiful landscape, and rich vardure. My sakes, the vardure here is so deep, it looks like mournin'; it's actilly dismal. Then there's no water to give light to the pictur, and no sun to cheer it; and the hedges are all square; and the lime trees are as stiff as an old gall that was once pretty, and has grow'd proud on the memory of it.

"I don't like their landscape a bit, there ain't no natur in it. Oh! if you go, take him along with you, for he will put you in consait of all you see, except reform, dissent, and things o' that kind; for he is an out and out old Tory, and thinks nothin' can be changed here for the better, except them that don't agree with him.

"He was a warnin' you t'other day not to take all I said for Gospel about society here; but you'll see who's right and who's wrong afore you've done, I know. I described to you, when you returned from Germany, _Dinin' out_ to London. Now I'll give you my opinion of "Life in the Country." And fust of all, as I was a sayin', there is no such thing as natur' here. Every thing is artificial; every thing of its kind alike; and every thing oninterestin' and tiresome.

"Well, if London is dull, in the way of West Eend people, the country, I guess, is a little mucher. Life in the country is different, of course, from life in town; but still life itself is alike there, exceptin' again _cla.s.s difference_. That is, n.o.bility is all alike, as far as their order goes; and country gents is alike, as far as their cla.s.s goes; and the last especially, when they hante travelled none, everlastin' flat, in their own way. Take a lord, now, and visit him to his country seat, and I'll tell you what you will find--a sort of Was.h.i.+ngton State house place. It is either a rail old castle of the genuine kind, or a gingerbread crink.u.m crank.u.m imitation of a thing that only existed in fancy, but never was seen afore--a thing that's made modern for use, and in ancient stile for shew; or else it's a great cold, formal, slice of a London terrace, stack on a hill in a wood.

"Well, there is lawn, park, artificial pond called a lake, deer that's fas.h.i.+onablized and civilized, and as little natur in 'em as the humans have. Kennel and hounds for parsicutin' foxes--presarves (not what we call presarves, quinces and apple sarce, and green gages done in sugar, but preserves for breedin' tame partridges and peasants to shoot at), H'aviaries, Hive-eries, H'yew-veris, Hot Houses, and so on; for they put an H before every word do these critters, and then tell us Yankees we don't speak English.

"Well, when you have seen an old and a new house of these folks, you have seen all. Featurs differ a little, but face of all is so alike, that though p'raps you wouldn't mistake one for another, yet you'd say they was all of one family. The king is their father.

"Now it may seem kinder odd to you, and I do suppose it will, but what little natur there is to England is among these upper crust n.o.bility.

_Extremes meet_. The most elegant critter in America is an Indgian chief. The most elegant one in England is a n.o.ble. There is natur in both. You will vow that's a crotchet of mine, but it's a fact; and I will tell you how it is, some other time. For I opine the most charmin', most nateral, least artificial, kindest, and condescendenest people here are rael n.o.bles. Younger children are the devil, half rank makes 'em proud, and entire poverty makes 'em sour. _Strap pride on an empty puss, and it puts a most beautiful edge on, it cuts like a razor_. They have to a.s.sart their dignity, tother one's dignity don't want no a.s.sartin'.

It speaks for itself.

"I won't enter into particulars now. I want to shew you country life; because if you don't want to hang yourself, don't tarry there, that's all; go and look at 'em, but don't stay there. If you can't help it no how, you can fix it, do it in three days; one to come, one to see, and one to go. If you do that, and make the fust late, and the last airly, you'll get through it; for it won't only make a day and a half, when sumtotalized. We'll fancy it, that's better than the rael thing, any time.

"So lets go to a country gentleman's house, or "landed," as they call 'em, cause they are so infarnally heavy. Well, his house is either an old onconvenient up and down, crooked-laned place, bad lighted, bad warmed, and shockin' cut up in small rooms; or a spic and span formal, new one, havin' all or most, according to his puss, of those things, about lord's houses, only on a smaller scale.

"Well, I'll arrive in time for dinner, I'll t.i.tivate myself up, and down to drawin'-room, and whose the company that's to dine there? Why, cuss 'em, half a dozen of these gents own the country for miles round, so they have to keep some company at the house, and the rest is neighbours.

"Now for goodness gracious sake, jist let's see who they be! Why one or two poor parsons, that have nothin' new in 'em, and nothin' new on 'em, goodish sort of people too, only they larf a leetle, jist a leetle louder at host's jokes, than at mine, at least, I suspicion it, 'cause I never could see nothin' to larf at in his jokes. One or two country n.o.bs of brother landed gents, that look as big as if the whole of the three per cent consols was in their breeches pockets; one or two damsels, that was young once, but have confessed to bein' old maids, drop't the word 'Miss,' 'cause it sounded ridikilous, and took the t.i.tle of 'Mrs.'

to look like widders. Two or three wivewomen of the Chinese stock, a bustin' of their stays off a'most, and as fat as show-beef; an oldest son or two, with the eend of the silver spoon he was born with, a peepin' out o' the corner of his mouth, and his face as vacant as a horn lantern without a candle in it; a younger son or so jist from college, who looks as if he had an idea he'd have to airn his livin', and whose lantern face looks as if it had had a candle in it, that had e'en amost burnt the sides out, rather thin and pale, with streaks of Latin and Greek in it; one or two everlastin' pretty young galls, so pretty as there is nothin' to do, you can't hardly help bein' spooney on 'em.