Mr Hogarth's Will — An Evening at Mr Rennie's, part 1

An Evening At Mr. Rennie's After an hour spent in this quiet way, Jane Melville was sufficiently rested and tranquillized to go among strangers, in spite of her knowing the idle curiosity with which she was likely to be regarded.

There was a small party at Mr. Rennie's; but excepting herself and the ladies of the family, it was composed entirely of gentlemen.

Now that Mr. Hogarth had come into a good landed property, he had spent more than one evening in the family of the bank manager, and had been discovered to be presentable anywhere; that he had very tolerable manners and good literary taste; and both Mrs. and Miss Rennie recollected well how often papa had spoken highly of him when he was only a clerk in the bank.

Miss Rennie was about nineteen, the eldest of the family, rather pretty, slightly romantic, and a little fond of showing off her extensive acquaintance with modern literature.

Her interest in Mr. Hogarth was great, though of recent date; and now to see one of the cousins whom he was forbidden to marry, on pain of losing all his newly-acquired wealth and consequence, was an exciting thing to a young lady who had suffered much from want of excitement.

Her father had been able to tell her nothing of Miss Melville s personal appearance, though he had dwelt upon her abilities and her eccentric character, and told her age.

Among the party was the publisher to whom Jane had applied for a situation, who had contributed his share of information about her; a young Edinburgh advocate, who had not very much to do at the bar; a Leith merchant, an old gentleman of property in the neighbourhood of the city, and two college students, all anxious to see people who were so much talked about.

"Decidedly plain and common-looking, and looks twenty-seven at least," was Miss Rennie's verdict on seeing Miss Melville.

"Plain, but uncommon-looking," was the opinion of the gentlemen on the subject.

The open, intelligent, and womanly expression of countenance--the well-turned neck and shoulders--the easy, well-proportioned figure--though not of the slight ethereal style which Mr. Hawthorne admires, but rather of the healthy, well-developed flesh-and-blood character of British feminine beauty--might redeem a good deal of irregularity of features.

Though her self-possession had been sorely tried on this day, though she had been disappointed, and was now worn out and perplexed, and though her faith in human nature had been shaken, she made an effort to recover the equanimity necessary for such an evening as this, and succeeded.

Her quiet and lady-like manner surprised Mr. Rennie; he had thought her masculine in the morning.

She listened with patience and pleasure to Miss Rennie's playing and singing, and then looked over some books of engravings and prints with the old gentleman, who was a connoisseur.

And when the advocate and the publisher, between whom there seemed to be a good understanding, entered into conversation on literary matters, and successful and unsuccessful works, she, thinking of her sister and her hopes, listened most attentively.

"Well," said the legal gentleman, "I like smart, clever writing, and don't object to a little personality now and then.

It pays, too."

"Those things certainly take well," said the publisher, "but there are other things that take better."

"What are they?"

"Not at all in your way, Mr. Malcolm; but yet at the present time there is nothing that pays so well as an exciting religious novel on evangelical principles.

Make all your unbelievers and worldly people villians, and crown your heroine, after unheard-of perils and persecutions, with the conversion of her lover, or the lover with the conversion of the heroine--the one does nearly as well as the other;

but do not let them marry before conversion, on any account.

Settle the hero down in the ministry, to which he dedicates talents that you may call as splendid as you please; make your fashionable conversation of your worldly people slightly blackguardly, and that of your pets very inane, with spots of religion coming out very strong now and then, and you will have more readers than Dickens, Bulwer, or Thackeray.

Well-meaning mothers will put the book without fear into the hands of their daughters.

It is considered harmless Sunday reading for those who find Sunday wearisome, and it is thought an appropriate birth-day present for young people of both sexes.

I dare say these books are harmless enough, but their success is wonderfully disproportioned to their merits.

They must be such easy writing, too, for you need never puzzle yourself as to whether it would be natural or consistent for such a character to steal, or for another to murder.

'The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,' and the novelist at least takes no pains to know it."

"You fire me with a noble zeal and emulation," said Mr. Malcolm.

"Is it true that the trumpery thing my sister Anne tormented me to order from you last week has gone through five editions?"

"Just about to bring out a sixth," said the publisher; "and the curious thing is that it is not at all exciting: but these American domestic quasi-religious novels (though novel is not a proper term for them) are the rage at present.

If one could trust to their details of every-day life being correct, they might be useful as giving us the Americans painted by themselves; but there is so much that is false and improbable in plot and character, that one is tempted to doubt even the cookery, of which we have QUANTUM SUFF."

"The conversation is the greatest twaddle I ever saw," said Mr. Malcolm.

"If the American people talk like that, how fatiguing it would be to live among them!

I could not write so badly, or such bad English.

I must take a successful English novel as my model."

"Mr. Malcolm is literary himself," said Miss Rennie, who had left the two students to amuse each other, and now joined the more congenial group.

"He writes such clever things in magazines, Miss Melville, I quite delight to come on anything of his, they are so amusing."

"Miss Rennie, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for your good opinion.

Then you like my style?

Do you hear that, you ogre?

Publishers, you know, Miss Melville, are noted for living upon the bones of unfortunate authors, and never saying grace either before or after the meal.

This Goth, this Vandal, this Jacob Tonson, has had the barbarity to find fault with the last thing I put into the "Mag"."

"Well, I thought you had never done anything so good.

It was so funny;

papa laughed till he shook the spectacles off his face, and then all the children laughed too."

"Listen, thou devourer of innocents, thou fattener on my labour and groans.

My work was good, and my style better, fashionable as Miss Rennie's flounces, and piquant as the sauce we will have from our host at supper."

"The style has been fashionable," said the publisher, "but it is getting overdone.

Everybody is trying the allusive style now, and wandering from the subject in hand to quote a book, or to refer to something very remotely connected with it.

Every word or sentence is made a peg to hang something else on.

Our authors are too fond of showing off reading or curious information; the style of the old essayists----" "Bald and tame, with very little knowledge of the finer shades of character," interrupted Mr. Malcolm.

"I wonder why you, as a critic, can compare our brilliant modern literature to such poor performances."

"They have their deficiencies, certainly; but there was a simplicity and directness in these old writings that we would do well to imitate."

"I had better imitate the style of the paying article at present, and write an evangelical novel.

I had better read up in it; but the unlucky thing is that they invariably put me to sleep; so perhaps I would do better to trust to my own original genius, and begin in an independent manner."

"Is it not a treat," whispered Miss Rennie to Jane, "to get a peep behind the scenes in this way?

Mr. Malcolm is quite a genius.

I am sure he could write anything; but he really ought not to go to sleep over those charming books.

He is such a severe critic, I am quite afraid of him."

"Then you write yourself?"

said Jane.

"Oh!

how foolish of me to let you know in such a silly way.

I write nothing to speak of.

I never thought any one would take me for an authoress.

But I do so doat on poetry, and it seems so natural to express one's feelings in verse--not for publication, you know--only for my friends.

Once or twice--but this is a great secret--I have had pieces brought out in the 'Ladies' Magazine.'

If you read it, you may have seen them; they had the signature of Ella--a pretty name, is it not?

--more uncommon than my own."

"Is it a fair question," said Jane, anxiously; "but did you receive anything for your verses?"

"You have such a commercial turn of mind, Miss Melville, as papa says, that you really ought to be in business.

No; I did not receive or, indeed, did I wish for any payment.

I would mix no prose with my poetry."

"You are not in need of money," said Jane, with a slight sigh; and she turned to the publisher, and asked if he brought out new poems as well as new novels.

"Poetry is ticklish stuff to go off, particularly in Edinburgh," said he.

"I am very shy of it, except in bringing out cheap editions of poems of established reputation, or reprints of American poets."

"Where there is no copyright to be paid for," said Mr. Malcolm; "I know the tricks of the trade."

Mrs. Rennie had asked Jane to play and sing, which she could not do, and then had engaged in conversation with Mr. Hogarth for a considerable time.

Now she supposed Jane must fancy she was not receiving sufficient attention from her hostess, considering that she was the only lady guest, so she came forward, and withdrew her from the animated conversation of the gentlemen, and proceeded to entertain her in the best way that she could.

Her younger children (not her youngest, for they were in bed) were gathered around her, and the conversation was somewhat desultory, owing to their interruptions and little delinquencies.

It was now getting time for them, too, to go to bed, and it was not without repeated orders from mamma, supported at last by a forcible observation from papa, that they bade the company good-night, and retired.

They were all very nice-looking children, and not ill-disposed, though somewhat refractory and dilatory about the vexed question of going to bed.

Talking to them and about them naturally brought up the subject of education; and Jane timidly inquired if Mrs. Rennie was in want of a governess, or if she knew any one who was.

"No; the children are all at school or under masters--the best masters in Edinburgh--for Mr. Rennie is extravagant in the matter of education.

The children get on better--there is more emulation; and then there is such a houseful of ourselves, that we would not know where to put a governess, though it might otherwise be an economy," said Mrs. Rennie.

"I should like to have classes," said Jane--trying to speak boldly for herself; "to teach what I have learned under the same masters whom you are so pleased with--English philologically, with the practice of composition, writing, arithmetic, and mathematics.

I can get certificates of my competency from the professors under whom I have studied.

I must leave the neighbourhood of Swinton, where there is no field for me, and start in this line; my sister can assist me, I have no doubt."

"I never heard of such a thing, Miss Melville; you had much better take a situation.

The worry and uncertainty of taking rooms and paying rent, when there are so many masters that you cannot expect but a very few pupils, would wear you out in a twelvemonth.

If I were to send you my two girls--and I am sure I have every reason to be satisfied with their present teachers--what would they do for you?

Oh, no, Miss Melville.

Take my advice, and get a nice quiet situation, or go into a school, where you might take music lessons in exchange for what you can teach now."

"I am too old to learn music," said Jane, "and I have no natural talent for it.

As for a nice quiet situation, where am I to get it?"

"Surely, Miss Melville, you must have many friends, from the position you have held in ----shire; you must know many leading people.

Consult with them.

I am sure they would never advise you to take such a risk; I cannot conscientiously advise you to do it myself.

Mr. Rennie was telling me about the matronship of the ---- Institution.

Don't you think that would be better?

The salary is not high, but there is no risk.

I know one of the house-surgeons very well, and I know he says everything is very comfortable, and he is one of the pleasantest men I know."