A day with the family

I go down to breakfast one morn of a particular dreary winter’s day to find that I have a little note from R- House and the footman awaits an answer.

I break the seal and read it while I sip my coffee.

My dearest Eliza writes that all are low-spirit’d at present: Miss N- is quite natural somewhat melancholy with the departure of her sister to the distant ends of the earth; the boys have return’d to school and are misst. Also our Grand Turk is in a fret over the matter of his maiden speech. Could their dearest and most beauteous C- come and spend the day, she confides that it would do a deal towards lifting their spirits.

I mind that I have not yet convey’d Lady J-'s desire to have Meg perform at one of her musicales, so there is also that I may undertake do I go to R- House. Indeed, 'twould lift my own spirits to go there.

I therefore scribble a response and dispatch by the footman, and after I have breakfast’d, go desire Docket to array me for a family visit to the F-s. (I apprehend that she quite understands that this means, something that will not be greatly affect’d do I go be a tiger.)

When I arrive at R- House at the door to the east wing, I am immediate told to go straight to Mrs F-'s study, which how they continue to designate the family room.

I find my dearest darlings alone there, so I go and kiss them both most hearty. Well, my loves, what’s ado?

Josiah sighs and says he finds a suitable occasion to make his maiden speech - there is a debate on some matters concerning canals, that he has opinions about: 'tis not a dangerous or contentious subject, and should, he hopes, give him some credit as a sound practickal fellow that understands business. But the matter puts him in an entire fret -

Sure, says I, I am sure Mr MacD- would be entire delight’d to give any help he might –

- Oh, I have already spoke to him and had his valuable assistance, but he says do I want to make something exceptional telling of it, sure I should take advice from one that is not only a prais’d dramatist but one that is besought by philanthropick ladies to write moving pamphlets concerning their good works.

O, the weasel! I cry, falling into a chair. Do I go about this matter there may be horrid monsters lurking in the canals, or perchance ghastly screams heard when they go into a tunnel. But do you hand me your notes and I will consider.

Here you are, our cleverest of C-s.

Flattering wretches: sure I should have brought a fan with me.

I take the notes he has made and consider what I should do did I write a play in which the hero was oblig’d to talk of canals. Eliza hands me a pen and an inkpot and I go about to contrive.

Sure, says I, Mr P- would doubtless call it sorry stuff, but I think this will answer. I hand the pages back to Josiah, who murmurs thro’ them a little and then stands in order to do the thing quite proper.

Eliza and I make suitable interruptions, but applaud greatly as he concludes. He mops his brow, and confides that doubtless the Commons will be a less critickal audience. And now, he says, he has to go meet Sir B- W- at his club with the antient sheep and one or two others and will leave us to womanly gossip.

Before you depart, says I, I should open to you both Lady J-'s wish that Meg should perform at one of her musicales.

Oh, says Eliza, what a fine thing for her. Sure does Lady J- think she is capable –

- I daresay that would be from Miss L-'s praise –

- the next matter would be to put it to Meg.

Sure, says Josiah, I do not suppose it will have Meg getting above herself, I can see no objections, and indeed, 'tis a pretty compliment by Lady J-.

(O, I should like to tell my darlings of Lady J-'s chang’d views about the matrimonial obligation, but 'tis not my secret to disclose.)

So, my loves, shall I go to the schoolroom and see what she says?

We kiss a good deal before Josiah leaves for Sir B- W-‘s club and I go upstairs to the schoolroom.

'Tis only the girls and Miss N- that are there, as Quintus at present spends but half a day or so acquiring the rudiments of education.

All come and kiss me very affectionate. Miss N- says that they are reading that fine book by Mr and Mrs T-, a little every day, to get a notion of the antipodes; is it not a quite excellent work and really gives one a most remarkable sense of the place?

Sure I would not dare say otherwise, says I, of a work that was dedicat’d to me; but indeed 'tis a very fine work. But, says I, I came because I have a message for Meg, from Lady J-.

Meg looks a little anxious – I daresay both the girls have been made aware that brawling at dancing-class may have adverse effects on their position in Society. I immediate tell her the fact of the business, that Lady J- would be most delight’d did she perform at one of her musicales.

O, Meg, says Bess, looking very proud at her sister, sure that quite exceeds.

O, says Meg, oh, oh. Me? To play at one of her musicales? Oh, Aunty C-, truly?

Truly, straight from Lady J-. I confide that Miss L- will have some notion of what you might play, did you consult her.

Meg sinks into her chair looking quite overcome. Miss N- smiles at her and says she may take a little rest from her geometry.

As you are here, Aunty C-, says Bess, might I ask you something about the theatre?

Of course, says I, sitting down next to her at the schoolroom table.

How much would you say I should calculate for matters of scenery and special effects?

She shows to me a very business-like tabulation of the cost of a theatre.

Well, says I, one would need some scenery but it need not be of the most elaborate; and altho’ the theatres in Town will make a great deal of their fine scenery and special effects, for if one has them the others must, 'tis by no means essential. Sure you have seen Miss A- present some of her scenes from The Gypsy’s Curse, out of costume, no scenery, and none of the special effects that were like to set her hair afire –

Say you so! cries Miss N-.

- So 'twas report’d – and was she not most extreme telling?

Bess nods. And indeed, she says, altho’ Mr W- did not have on an ass’s head, one could almost see it.

Does not the Bard, say I, desire his audience to imagine the scene? – I pick up the copy of Shakspeare that rests upon the table, find the speech, and read it. So, I go on, when you start, provid’d you have the actors that can bring about the effect, you can contrive without special stage machinery.

Oh, thank you! says Bess, that must indeed save a great deal.

But, says I, I daresay I had best leave you both to your lessons after disturbing 'em.

I proceed to the nursery, where I see there is a deal of company: Bobbie and Sukey W-, as well as little Essie, have join’d Quintus and Flora, Julius and Hannah (that now walks most effective), and their nurse sits with Patty and Betty Higgins, gossiping over their knitting.

Comes marching up to me my lovely Flora, and says Tiger! in the voice of one accustom’d to command.

We say please, says Quintus to her. (Indeed she is the little tyrant of the nursery.)

Please? says Flora, with a most coquettish sideways look. (Sure she knows I cannot resist her.)

So I imitate the action of a tiger to the great enjoyment of the entire company, until the door opens and my dearest wild girl comes in, saying she dar’d say this was where she would find me, and she hopes she may carry me off for a little luncheon.

Oh, says I, putting down a laughing Hannah, that would be most agreeable. Flora shows some disposition to pout at the departure of her tiger, but Quintus reminds her that we thank Aunty C- for playing with us, and she comes up and desires to be lift’d up so she may give me a kiss. (O, she is my heart’s darling.)

As we descend the stairs I remark on what a good thoughtfull boy Quintus is turning out, and by the way, I have oft meant to ask, whether Quintus be some family name?

Not in the least, says Eliza, 'twas entirely to do with the haste in which he was baptiz’d and the general disorder in the household at the time, that we were not thinking about a name, and the parson was oblig’d to give him one himself, and as he was the fifth child, he call’d him Quintus.

Of course, my love: I confide that there were other worries at that time.

My dearest sighs and says 'twas a very bad time. In spite of that, she looks quite with envy at Her Grace and Martha S-, for she would greatly like another child or so in the nursery. But 'twould be the most imprudent thing.

Indeed 'twould, my dear – o, but perchance I – ?

No, my darling, no, no. That would be quite as imprudent. We could not risk our darling again.

We go into the dining-room, where a fine collation has been laid, and she goes on to say that she wonders might they have the boys back at home now. Sure there are all kinds of tutors they might have here, and the school does not answer so well when they cannot readily come home at weekends.

That would be most agreeable, I concur. But perchance they like it at school?

Eliza frowns a little and says Harry seems to like it well enough, but she is not sure about Josh. He might, my love, admit it to you did you ask.

Josh, says I, I confide would ever prefer to reside where there are wombatts and menageries.

And his Aunty C-, says my darling, smiling.