第22章 CHAPTER IX(1)

TO turn again to narrative, and to far less serious thoughts.

The last eighteen months before I went to Cambridge, I was placed, or rather placed myself, under the tuition of Mr. Robert Collyer, rector of Warham, a living close to Holkham in the gift of my brother Leicester. Between my Ely tutor and myself there was but little sympathy. He was a man of much refinement, but with not much indulgence for such aberrant proclivities as mine. Without my knowledge, he wrote to Mr. Ellice lamenting my secret recusancy, and its moral dangers. Mr. Ellice came expressly from London, and stayed a night at Ely. He dined with us in the cloisters, and had a long private conversation with my tutor, and, before he left, with me. I indignantly resented the clandestine representations of Mr. S., and, without a word to Mr. Ellice or to anyone else, wrote next day to Mr. Collyer to beg him to take me in at Warham, and make what he could of me, before I went to Cambridge. It may here be said that Mr. Collyer had been my father's chaplain, and had lived at Holkham for several years as family tutor to my brothers and myself, as we in turn left the nursery. Mr. Collyer, upon receipt of my letter, referred the matter to Mr. Ellice; with his approval I was duly installed at Warham. Before describing my time there, I must tell of an incident which came near to affecting me in a rather important way.

My mother lived at Longford in Derbyshire, an old place, now my home, which had come into the Coke family in James I.'s reign, through the marriage of a son of Chief Justice Coke's with the heiress of the De Langfords, an ancient family from that time extinct. While staying there during my summer holidays, my mother confided to me that she had had an offer of marriage from Mr. Motteux, the owner of considerable estates in Norfolk, including two houses - Beachamwell and Sandringham. Mr. Motteux - 'Johnny Motteux,' as he was called - was, like Tristram Shandy's father, the son of a wealthy 'Turkey merchant,' which, until better informed, I always took to mean a dealer in poultry. 'Johnny,' like another man of some notoriety, whom I well remember in my younger days - Mr. Creevey - had access to many large houses such as Holkham; not, like Creevey, for the sake of his scandalous tongue, but for the sake of his wealth. He had no (known) relatives; and big people, who had younger sons to provide for, were quite willing that one of them should be his heir. Johnny Motteux was an epicure with the best of CHEFS. His capons came from Paris, his salmon from Christchurch, and his Strasburg pies were made to order. One of these he always brought with him as a present to my mother, who used to say, 'Mr. Motteux evidently thinks the nearest way to my heart is down my throat.'

A couple of years after my father's death, Motteux wrote to my mother proposing marriage, and, to enhance his personal attractions, (in figure and dress he was a duplicate of the immortal Pickwick,) stated that he had made his will and had bequeathed Sandringham to me, adding that, should he die without issue, I was to inherit the remainder of his estates.

Rather to my surprise, my mother handed the letter to me with evident signs of embarrassment and distress. My first exclamation was: 'How jolly! The shooting's first rate, and the old boy is over seventy, if he's a day.'

My mother apparently did not see it in this light. She clearly, to my disappointments did not care for the shooting; and my exultation only brought tears into her eyes.

'Why, mother,' I exclaimed, 'what's up? Don't you - don't you care for Johnny Motteux?'

She confessed that she did not.

'Then why don't you tell him so, and not bother about his beastly letter?'

'If I refuse him you will lose Sandringham.'

'But he says here he has already left it to me.'

'He will alter his will.'

'Let him!' cried I, flying out at such prospective meanness.

'Just you tell him you don't care a rap for him or for Sandringham either.'

In more lady-like terms she acted in accordance with my advice; and, it may be added, not long afterwards married Mr. Ellice.

Mr. Motteux's first love, or one of them, had been Lady Cowper, then Lady Palmerston. Lady Palmerston's youngest son was Mr. Spencer Cowper. Mr. Motteux died a year or two after the above event. He made a codicil to his will, and left Sandringham and all his property to Mr. Spencer Cowper. Mr. Spencer Cowper was a young gentleman of costly habits.

Indeed, he bore the slightly modified name of 'Expensive Cowper.' As an attache at Paris he was famous for his patronage of dramatic art - or artistes rather; the votaries of Terpsichore were especially indebted to his liberality.

At the time of Mr. Motteux's demise, he was attached to the Embassy at St. Petersburg. Mr. Motteux's solicitors wrote immediately to inform him of his accession to their late client's wealth. It being one of Mr. Cowper's maxims never to read lawyers' letters, (he was in daily receipt of more than he could attend to,) he flung this one unread into the fire; and only learnt his mistake through the congratulations of his family.

The Prince Consort happened about this time to be in quest of a suitable country seat for his present Majesty; and Sandringham, through the adroit negotiations of Lord Palmerston, became the property of the Prince of Wales. The soul of the 'Turkey merchant,' we cannot doubt, will repose in peace.

The worthy rector of Warham St. Mary's was an oddity deserving of passing notice. Outwardly he was no Adonis.

His plain features and shock head of foxy hair, his antiquated and neglected garb, his copious jabot - much affected by the clergy of those days - were becoming investitures of the inward man. His temper was inflammatory, sometimes leading to excesses, which I am sure he rued in mental sackcloth and ashes. But visitors at Holkham (unaware of the excellent motives and moral courage which inspired his conduct) were not a little amazed at the austerity with which he obeyed the dictates of his conscience.