Bracebridge Hall: Village Worthies

Village Worthies

     Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not
     the worst dog in the street would hurt my little finger.
     COLLIER OF CROYDON.

As the neighbouring village is one of those out-of-the-way, but
gossiping little places, where a small matter makes a great stir, it is
not to be supposed that the approach of a festival like that of May-Day
can be regarded with indifference, especially since it is made a matter
of such moment by the great folks at the Hall. Master Simon, who is the
faithful factotum of the worthy squire, and jumps with his humour in
everything, is frequent just now in his visits to the village, to give
directions for the impending f�te; and as I have taken the liberty
occasionally of accompanying him, I have been enabled to get some
insight into the characters and internal politics of this very sagacious
little community.

Master Simon is in fact the Caesar of the village. It is true the squire
is the protecting power, but his factotum is the active and busy agent.
He intermeddles in all its concerns, is acquainted with all the
inhabitants and their domestic history, gives counsel to the old folks
in their business matters, and the young folks in their love affairs,
and enjoys the proud satisfaction of being a great man in a little
world.

He is the dispenser, too, of the squire's charity, which is bounteous;
and, to do Master Simon justice, he performs this part of his functions
with great alacrity. Indeed I have been entertained with the mixture of
bustle, importance, and kindheartedness which he displays. He is of too
vivacious a temperament to comfort the afflicted by sitting down moping
and whining and blowing noses in concert; but goes whisking about like a
sparrow, chirping consolation into every hole and corner of the village.
I have seen an old woman, in a red cloak, hold him for half an hour
together with some long phthisical tale of distress, which Master Simon
listened to with many a bob of the head, smack of his dog-whip, and
other symptoms of impatience, though he afterwards made a most faithful
and circumstantial report of the case to the squire. I have watched him,
too, during one of his pop visits into the cottage of a superannuated
villager, who is a pensioner of the squire, when he fidgeted about the
room without sitting down, made many excellent off-hand reflections with
the old invalid, who was propped up in his chair, about the shortness of
life, the certainty of death, and the necessity of preparing for "that
awful change;" quoted several texts of Scripture very incorrectly, but
much to the edification of the cottager's wife; and on coming out
pinched the daughter's rosy cheek, and wondered what was in the young
men, that such a pretty face did not get a husband.

He has also his cabinet councillors in the village, with whom he is very
busy just now, preparing for the May-Day ceremonies. Among these is the
village tailor, a pale-faced fellow, that plays the clarionet in the
church choir; and, being a great musical genius, has frequent meetings
of the band at his house, where they "make night hideous" by their
concerts. He is, in consequence, high in favour with Master Simon; and,
through his influence, has the making, or rather marring, of all the
liveries of the Hall; which generally look as though they had been cut
out by one of those scientific tailors of the Flying Island of Laputa,
who took measure of their customers with a quadrant. The tailor, in
fact, might rise to be one of the monied men of the village, was he not
rather too prone to gossip, and keep holidays, and give concerts, and
blow all his substance, real and personal, through his clarionet, which
literally keeps him poor both in body and estate. He has for the present
thrown by all his regular work, and suffered the breeches of the
village to go unmade and unmended, while he is occupied in making
garlands of particoloured rags, in imitation of flowers, for the
decoration of the May-pole.

Another of Master Simon's councillors is the apothecary, a short, and
rather fat man, with a pair of prominent eyes, that diverge like those
of a lobster. He is the village wise man; very sententious; and full of
profound remarks on shallow subjects. Master Simon often quotes his
sayings, and mentions him as rather an extraordinary man; and even
consults him occasionally in desperate cases of the dogs and horses.
Indeed he seems to have been overwhelmed by the apothecary's philosophy,
which is exactly one observation deep, consisting of indisputable
maxims, such as may be gathered from the mottoes of tobacco boxes. I had
a specimen of his philosophy in my very first conversation with him; in
the course of which he observed, with great solemnity and emphasis, that
"man is a compound of wisdom and folly;" upon which Master Simon, who
had hold of my arm, pressed very hard upon it, and whispered in my ear,
"That's a devilish shrewd remark!"

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