Evening at Home 45
AVERSION SUBDUED.—A DRAMA.
SCENE—_A Road in the Country_.
_Arbury_—_Belford_, walking.
_Belford._ Pray, who is the present possessor of the Brookby estate?
_Arbury._ A man of the name of Goodwin.
_Bel._ Is he a good neighbour to you?
_Arb._ Far from it! and I wish he had settled a hundred miles off,
rather than come here to spoil our neighbourhood.
_Bel._ I am sorry to hear that; but what is your objection to him?
_Arb._ O, there is nothing in which we agree. In the first place he is
quite of the other side in politics; and that, you know, is enough to
prevent all intimacy.
_Bel._ I am not entirely of that opinion; but what else?
_Arb._ He is no sportsman, and refuses to join in our association for
protecting the game. Neither does he choose to be a member of any of our
clubs.
_Bel._ Has he been asked?
_Arb._ I don’t know that he has directly; but he might easily propose
himself, if he liked it. But he is of a close, unsociable temper, and I
believe very niggardly.
_Bel._ How has he shown it?
_Arb._ His style of living is not equal to his fortune; and I have heard
of several instances of his attention to petty economy.
_Bel._ Perhaps he spends money in charity?
_Arb._ Not he, I dare say. It was but last week that a poor fellow who
had lost his all by a fire went to him with a subscription paper, in
which were the names of all the gentlemen in the neighbourhood; and all
the answer he got was that he would consider of it.
_Bel._ And did he consider?
_Arb._ I don’t know, but I suppose it was only an excuse. Then his
predecessor had a park well stocked with deer, and used to make liberal
presents of venison to all his neighbours. But this frugal gentleman has
sold them all off, and got a flock of sheep instead.
_Bel._ I don’t see much harm in that, now mutton is so dear.
_Arb._ To be sure he has a right to do as he pleases with his park, but
that is not the way to be beloved, you know. As to myself, I have reason
to believe he bears me particular ill-will.
_Bel._ Then he is much in the wrong, for I believe you are as free from
ill-will to others as any man living. But how has he shown it, pray?
_Arb._ In twenty instances. He had a horse upon sale the other day to
which I took a liking, and bid money for it. As soon as he found I was
about it, he sent it off to a fair on the other side of the county. My
wife, you know, is passionately fond of cultivating flowers. Riding
lately by his grounds, she observed something new, and took a great
longing for a root or cutting of it. My gardener mentioned her wish to
his, (contrary, I own, to my inclination,) and he told his master; but
instead of obliging her, he charged the gardener on no account to touch
the plant. A little while ago I turned off a man for saucy behaviour;
but as he had lived many years with me, and was a very useful servant, I
meant to take him again upon his submission, which I did not doubt would
soon happen. Instead of that, he goes and offers himself to my civil
neighbour, who, without deigning to apply to me even for a character,
entertains him immediately. In short, he has not the least of a
gentleman about him, and I would give anything to be well rid of him.
_Bel._ Nothing, to be sure, can be more unpleasant, in the country, than
a bad neighbour, and I am concerned it is your lot to have one. But
there is a man who seems as if he wanted to speak with you.
[_A Countryman approaches._
_Arb._ Ah! it is the poor fellow that was burnt out. Well, Richard, how
go you on?—what has the subscription produced you?
_Richard._ Thank your honour, my losses are nearly all made up.
_Arb._ I am very glad of that; but when I saw the paper last, it did not
reach half way.
_Rich._ It did not, sir; but you may remember asking me what Mr. Goodwin
had done for me, and I told you he took time to consider of it. Well,
sir, I found that the very next day he had been at our town, and had
made very particular inquiry about me and my losses, among my
neighbours. When I called upon him in a few days after, he told me he
was very glad to find that I bore such a good character, and that the
gentlemen round had so kindly taken up my case; and he would prevent the
necessity of my going any farther for relief. Upon which, he gave me,
God bless him! a draft upon his banker for fifty pounds.
_Arb._ Fifty pounds!
_Rich._ Yes, sir—it has made me quite my own man again; and I am now
going to purchase a new cart and team of horses.
_Arb._ A noble gift, indeed; I could never have thought it! Well,
Richard, I rejoice at your good fortune. I am sure you are much obliged
to Mr. Goodwin.
_Rich._ Indeed, I am, sir, and to all my good friends. God bless you!
[_Goes on._
_Bel._ Niggardliness, at least, is not this man’s foible.
_Arb._ No—I was mistaken in that point. I wronged him, and I am sorry
for it. But what a pity it is that men of real generosity should not be
amiable in their manners, and as ready to oblige in trifles as in
matters of consequence.
_Bel._ True—‘tis a pity when that is really the case.
_Arb._ How much less an exertion it would have been to have shown some
civility about a horse or a flower-root!
_Bel._ Apropos of flowers!—there’s your gardener carrying a large one in
a pot.
_Enter Gardener._
_Arb._ Now, James, what have you got there?
_Gardener._ A flower, sir, for madam, from Mr. Goodwin’s.
_Arb._ How did you come by it?
_Gard._ His gardener, sir, sent me word to come for it. We should have
had it before, but Mr. Goodwin thought it would not move safely.
_Arb._ I hope he has got more of them?
_Gard._ He has only a seedling plant or two, sir; but hearing that madam
took a liking to it, he resolved to send it her, and a choice thing it
is! I have a note for madam in my pocket.
_Arb._ Well, go on.
[_Exit Gardener._
_Bel._ Methinks this does not look like deficiency in civility?
_Arb._ No—it is a very polite action—I ca’n’t deny it, and I am obliged
to him for it. Perhaps, indeed, he may feel he owes me a little amends.
_Bel._ Possibly—it shows he _can_ feel, however.
_Arb._ It does. Ha! there’s Yorkshire Tom coming with a string of horses
from the fair. I’ll step up and speak to him. Now, Tom! how have horses
gone at Market-hill?
_Tom._ Dear enough, your honour!
_Arb._ How much more did you get for Mr. Goodwin’s mare than I offered
him?
_Tom._ Ah! sir, that was not a thing for your riding, and that Mr
Goodwin well knew. You never saw such a vicious toad. She had liked to
have killed the groom two or three times. So I was ordered to offer her
to the mail-coach people, and get what I could from them. I might have
sold her better if Mr. Goodwin would have let me, for she was a fine
creature to look at as need be, and quite sound.
_Arb._ And was that the true reason why the mare was not sold to me?
_Tom._ It was, indeed, sir.
_Arb._ Then I am highly obliged to Mr. Goodwin. (_Tom rides on._) This
was handsome behaviour, indeed!
_Bel._ Yes, I think it was somewhat more than politeness—it was real
goodness of heart.
_Arb._ It was. I find I must alter my opinion of him, and I do it with
pleasure. But, after all, his conduct with respect to my servant is
somewhat unaccountable.
_Bel._ I see reason to think so well of him in the main, that I am
inclined to hope he will be acquitted in this matter, too.
_Arb._ There the fellow is. I wonder he has my old livery on yet!
[_Ned approaches, pulling off his hat._
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