My recent trip to Oxford was at the request of the aforementioned Reverend Edmund Smellie, writer and orator, of whom you have no doubt heard by now. His sermon 48 “Who will rise up with me against the wicked?” Psalm 94:16, published in The London Gazette last year, created quite a fuss and, I believe, is borrowed by every esteemed clergyman of repute in the country. Indeed, I make no secret of the fact that I have, on occasion, slipped in a number of phrases from the aforementioned sermon to strengthen my words for I find that the Holy Spirit inspired me to do so – that the Word of God might pierce more hearts and more deeply.
I was quite startled to receive his invitation for though we had studied together at Oxford, even sharing a room at one point during our carefree youth, I had not known that he held me in such high regard. I must confess that I did not approve of all his undertakings back then and did find myself obliged to close my eyes to much of his activities and the company he kept. He has since, however, risen so swiftly within the Church of England and is now regarded as one of the most pious, moving and influential speakers in the whole country, that he has earned my esteem and respect. Indeed, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had once witnessed Rev Smellie, in the height of his fame, speak at the consecration of her cousin the Archbishop of Canterbury, was so impressed to hear that he was an acquaintance of mine that she pressed me to go to Oxford at once and extend an invitation for him to stay. Not at Hunsford, as one might expect, but at Rosings and at his earliest possible convenience. I believe Sir Lewis de Bourgh was a great follower of the works of Reverend Smellie and had kept all his published works in his fine library, which has an extensive collection, particularly on its top shelves.
I also had the privilege of observing Rev. Smellie perform one of his great sermons during my recent trip and was so moved and shaken as a result, that it was many hours before I could settle myself and re-admit myself to his presence. Not that I would have been able, should I have wished, for there was such a flock about him, ladies in particular, who had wild eyes and were half-swooning at his every utterance.
He kindly offered advice as to how I should deliver my great passages in a similar fashion, for I made him aware that the wedding of Miss Anne de Bourgh approaches, which I expect will be my finest hour. His key recommendation was to practise in front of a looking glass, that one may rehearse one’s demeanour and perfect one’s facial movements, for, he assured me, with every twitch of one’s mouth, arch of an eyebrow and pointing a finger to Heaven, one shall strike fear in the hearts of men and serenity to their souls.
And as for the impending marriage of Miss Anne de Bourgh, let me enlighten you as to the name and character of the most fortunate gentleman in the land. It is Harold, son of Lord and Lady Smock of Eyrecourt Castle in Warwickshire, a most accomplished young man (considering he is of ill-health) who keeps the largest collection of butterflies and moths in the land. Indeed, he is such an expert on the subject that his knowledge and advice are sought after by the greatest minds in Europe and, I believe, he is in correspondence with a university in America who, Lady Catherine informs me, are very interested in his ‘Banded Peacock’. Miss de Bourgh is almost animated whenever the wedding is mentioned (young ladies do love a sense of occasion) and once Mr Smock (accompanied by his parents) is well enough for the long journey to Rosings, the date will be set. Then my great passages will be taken out of my bureau drawer for to be extensively re-read, reviewed, revised and rehearsed, for Lady Catherine has requested that I officiate at the wedding ceremony.
The happy couple have not yet met in person but have corresponded by letter and I believe they are very much attached to one another. I have, myself, made a few very eloquent suggestions to Miss de Bourgh, via her companion, Mrs Jenkinson, for inclusion in her correspondence, for who more than I knows those words and phrases which quicken the heart and flatter the soul.
On another topic, I must ask you now, cousin, whether persons in your vicinity are wont to play practical jokes on your rector, Reverend Green? I find myself, yet again, troubled by such blackguarding and it vexes me so. Yesterday, as I left the premises for my morning stroll in the magnificent Rosings air, I found, to my horror, that two of my garden ornaments (you may remember the swans with wings outstretched which you had once admired for the breadth of their wingspan) were rendered to the top of my two piers at the entrance to Hunsford Parsonage. They are stuck solid and will have to be broken asunder in order to have them removed which John, our gardener, is doing as I write, though the sweat is pouring from his brow. When it occurred yesterday morn, I moved at once to Rosings Park to tell her ladyship, who was naturally outraged. I informed her that I suspect the culprit is a Mr Joseph Bradford, one of those idle gentlemen residing in the cottages in the village, for he walked past as I made my discovery and laughed so heartily, saying that my piers were now as fine as her ladyship’s, that I felt it were he for sure.
That is all our news from Kent for now. Again, young Richard is a blessing and a quiet boy thus far, praise the Lord, and Thomas grows more characterful daily.
Our kindest regards to dear Mrs Bennet and all your esteemed family.
Your affectionate cousin,
William Collins
Longbourn,
near Meryton,
Hertfordshire.
4th April, 1795
Dear Sir,
I hope this letter finds you and yours in the best of health this Easter Sunday morning. Thank you for your kind gesture – the Reverend Smellie’s fine book. I have leafed through it while sipping a glass of port the other evening and I must confess it was a mistake for I almost choked as the port went down the wrong passageway. He must have been a colourful character indeed, this friend of yours, Rev. Smellie, for he wrote in such minute detail, never tempering his vocabulary, that I felt he must needs know his subject matter very well indeed. And fear not that I might need any explanation for I have such a son-in-law in George Wickham who can enlighten me on any or every one of its contents, I have no doubt.
What an unusual turn of events that this Reverend Smellie did track you down after all these years. No doubt he was impressed on hearing the name of your noble patroness and is a very fortunate man indeed to receive an invitation to Rosings.
I have met with Reverend Green this very morning as he came by with a vintage French wine (the French may trouble Lord Nelson but they do have some redeeming qualities and, I dare say, if he would drink of their fine wines it would lessen his grievance with their nation). I inquired of the good vicar whether he were the recipient of an occasional practical joke and he assures me that he is not. Fear not, however, Mr Collins, for this man is quite doting and would not know whether a joke were being played on him or not. In fact, I believe I was, back in my youth, the culprit responsible for rounding up and placing nine wild cats in his bedroom where he discovered them in a state of war and destruction some hours later.
But on to more interesting matters – would you believe that the reputation of young Harold Smock, the son of Lord and Lady Smock of Eyrecourt Castle, is already known to me? For was I not only last week reading from the great book Insects of South America wherein it mentioned that this very Harold, of whom you speak, is the owner of the only example of Morpho Menelaus Alexandrovna in the Northern Hemisphere at present! Can you imagine my surprise on reading your letter? I would be most interested in making his acquaintance, cousin, if you would be so kind as to introduce us at some future juncture, for I have many questions to put to him as to the survival of butterflies in countries of high altitude such as Peru. It has troubled me for some time and I have not yet found an answer that satisfied my curiosity. I am all delight for Miss Anne de Bourgh that she has secured such a husband for I can only imagine what interesting things they may have to say to each other.
For now, cousin, adieu!
Henry Bennet
Hunsford,
near Westerham,
Kent.
14th May, 1795
Dear Sir,
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I hope this letter finds you and all your household well this fine summer day. I must confess I hardly know whether I come or go in recent times for with the impending arrival next week of the Reverend Edmund Smellie to Rosings, waiting on news regarding the health and mobility of the honourable Smock family, and an unfortunate incident which brought me into a most disagreeable situation, I hardly know where I am.
The incident I refer to took place last Tuesday teatime as I returned from an afternoon in the garden – Charlotte has been encouraging me to spend as much time in the fresh air as daylight allows, assuring me that it is now the fashionable practice of educated gentlemen. As I went to pick up my garden shears from the front lawn where I had left them not twenty minutes before, I found they had gone. Just at that moment, the blackguard, Joseph Bradford, was passing and made such a wave in my direction, bellowing “Are you looking for something, Mr Collins?” that I was convinced at once that he had stolen my shears. I ran immediately to Rosings, distressed and agitated, to inform her ladyship of this wrongdoing. As magistrate she was doubly furious, for this was no joke but a crime, and, therefore, she prepared at once to go to Bradford’s cottage that she might interrogate the culprit to his face (for it is few who do not break down and confess when confronted by her ladyship). I was ordered home to drink a glass of cognac to counter the effects of shock. Her ladyship promised to summons me to Rosings for dinner in the evening where she would inform me of the outcome of her investigation. I was very moved that she would condescend to act with such purpose and bring such trouble on herself on behalf of a lowly vicar and I must confess, sir, never was my loyalty and affection for her as great as it was at that moment, that it did bring tears to my eyes.
When I returned home, I consumed two glasses of cognac as ordered and, I must confess, their mellowing effect was felt almost immediately. I then proceeded to check on the boys and Charlotte who were all to be found at the front of the house playing skittles. Charlotte, alarmed at my appearance and smelling the liquor on my breath, demanded to know at once what I was about to make a display of myself in front of our boys, whereupon hearing of my troubles she declared that it was she who had removed the shears from the front lawn for fear the boys would find them and injure themselves. My shock was great and it was some moments before I could comprehend the seriousness of what I was hearing. I ran at once to Bradford’s cottage where I found I was too late – her ladyship, with raised voice, which I could hear before I had even reached the front gate, was accusing the man of being a liar and a thief who would be dragged before the courts and feel the full force of her wrath. I waited until she was returning to her carriage where I whispered to her, with trepidation, of the error I had made. Cousin, she called me such names, degraded me in such terms and uninvited me to dinner as left no doubt in my mind as to her displeasure. When she departed, I felt obliged to return to Bradford and scold him for angering her ladyship in such a manner. I stated that while the charges against him would be dropped, he had better not be seen in the vicinity of my parsonage again or it would surely be Van Dieman’s Land for him if he proceeded to act in dishonest ways, at which he merely laughed in my face.
The silence from Rosings continues and I hope it will be mended by the time Reverend Smellie arrives next week for I so wished to impress Lady Catherine with my standing within the higher echelons of the Church of England.
Yours sincerely,
William Collins
Longbourn,
near Meryton,
Hertfordshire.
30th May, 1795
My Dear Sir,
Having just this evening re-read your most recent letter, I decided to drink several glasses of cognac in an attempt at commiserating with you in your current plight, displaying solidarity for my own flesh and blood and finally because your letter put me in mind of the French and a bottle of cognac which I had almost forgot that I had. I confess up front, I find myself very much merry at present, but shall proceed with this letter regardless, for I am feeling particularly philosophical this starry night and full of steely determination and not to be swayed.
What a most unfortunate thing to bring the wrath of her ladyship upon yourself yet again. Of course, I have not seen her in such a humour, she is all sweetness and charm whenever we meet, but my imaginative capabilities are very great and I have no doubt that she is fierce when riled. Indeed Admiral Nelson could do with just a few of her ladyships on board when dealing with the French and victory would be certain, but not before a few trunks of their best cognac is secured to the mast, I say! Did you know that many shipments of cognac are distributed around Europe from the port of La Rochelle in France where the Romans set up house and home many years ago and began salt production along the coast? There are few advances in man’s development and industries, I find, that the Romans had not thought of first. There are many who do not want to hear of this, especially the men of science and invention and the money-grabbing mill owners and city merchants, but I dare say we will discover, in time, that the Romans had invented everything many thousands of years before they dawned on us. Which puts me in mind that I was often told that I am the proprietor of a Roman nose – they tend to be large, with a distinct bump at the top causing them to curve somewhat, similar to the bird who lives along the coast called a puffin. There is a young French soldier, of whom we read about in the newspapers as rising swiftly up the ranks in his military career, by the name of Napoleon Bonaparte whom they claim has such a nose. But the Greek nose, now that is a very non-descript feature which adds no distinction whatsoever to the face; it may as well not be there at all. But your own nose, Mr Collins, being bulbous, adds plenty of character to your face and suits you perfectly for if a person takes one look at your face, cousin, they have your character in an instant.
Enough of noses. I hope that all the Smocks of the castle in Warwickshire will be making their way to Rosings soon and that young Harold’s health remains strong for he is a man I wish to meet before long. Shall the married couple remain at Rosings or return to Warwickshire? And as for the Reverend Smellie, another man I would be curious to meet, he must be with you at least a week by now. I hope he is settling into life at Rosings and does not miss the fast life in Oxford.
Your affectionate cousin,
Henry Bennet
Hunsford,
near Westerham,
Kent.
14th June, 1795
Dear Sir,
I must confess this letter finds me very disturbed indeed and although I wish to make my usual and customary compliments to your good wife and family, I find I hardly have the strength of spirit to do so, for I am a broken man.
Lady Catherine’s displeasure with me continues and although I was invited to Rosings to make the initial introduction of the Reverend Smellie to the family therein, I have hardly been invited back twice since then. Reverend Smellie appears to be enjoying his stay and the privileges bestowed upon him greatly and is a true favourite now (for he comes to visit me here at the parsonage every other day to inform me of his great fortune in minute detail). My dear Charlotte is also distressed for she has to increase her household expenditure as we dine and sup only here now and never feast elsewhere.
May I confess to you, Mr Bennet, something that I dare not say elsewhere. When he visited yesterday morning, Reverend Smellie asked of Charlotte that he might accompany her (alone) to the garden when she stated that she wished to collect lavender. My heart sank that he, who ladies find enthralling, would take such a liberty in front of me and my humiliation was great. Charlotte, however, loyal companion and wife amongst wives, knew at once the hurt he had intended. She returned from the kitchen with scissors and basket and handing them to Reverend Smellie, pointed to him from the window the best patch, thanking him for sparing her the trouble. When he had left, red-faced at her treatment of him, Charlotte turned to me and stated that she never trusts a man whose hair appears to have the personality of an unruly child. My love for her was never
greater than at that moment.
But we have received news that Lord and Lady Smock and their son Harold leave Warwickshire on the morrow and are expected to arrive Thursday evening which is very great news indeed for the date of the wedding has been set for July 18th. This will enable me to redeem myself in the eyes of my noble patroness and re-establish my standing at Rosings.
My vegetable patch is sadly neglected.
Your cousin,
William Collins
Longbourn,
near Meryton,
Hertfordshire.
7th July, 1795
Dear Sir,
I am most sorry to read in your last correspondence of how disrupted and rattled you were as a result of Lady Catherine’s cold shoulder – your heart, it seemed, was in your boots. Some might say that only a simpleton would invite such a man as Smellie into their territory where they should pillage and pluck as they wished, but not I. The whole affair is most disturbing, yet I am confident that it has even now blown over and you have been welcomed back to the warmth of her ladyship’s affectionate embrace.
The Longbourn Letters Page 6
