The apartments through which I passed had the same air of departed
gentility and sluttish housekeeping. The once rich curtains were faded
and dusty; the furniture greased and tarnished. On entering the
dining-room I found a number of odd, vulgar-looking, rustic gentlemen
seated round a table, on which were bottles, decanters, tankards,
pipes, and tobacco. Several dogs were lying about the room, or sitting
and watching their masters, and one was gnawing a bone under a
side-table.
The master of the feast sat at the head of the board. He was greatly
altered. He had grown thick-set and rather gummy, with a fiery, foxy
head of hair. There was a singular mixture of foolishness, arrogance,
and conceit in his countenance. He was dressed in a vulgarly fine
style, with leather breeches, a red waistcoat, and green coat, and was
evidently, like his guests, a little flushed with drinking. The whole
company stared at me with a whimsical muggy look, like men whose senses
were a little obfuscated by beer rather than wine.
My cousin, (God forgive me! the appellation sticks in my throat,) my
cousin invited me with awkward civility, or, as he intended it,
condescension, to sit to the table and drink. We talked, as usual,
about the weather, the crops, politics, and hard times. My cousin was a
loud politician, and evidently accustomed to talk without contradiction
at his own table. He was amazingly loyal, and talked of standing by the
throne to the last guinea, "as every gentleman of fortune should do.
Pages:
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230