Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER JOINS IN A VERY PECULIAR PIC-NIC.
AKING up the next morning, and reviewing the events of the preceding day, little Mr. Bouncer was gratified to find that the bright June sun was shining down upon him at the Woodlands, and was not streaming into a bedroom occupied by him in Dr. Dustacre's house. During the day, he and his friend Mr. Smalls had a gallop over the Squire's estate, accompanied by Huz and Buz, who enjoyed themselves with a famous rat-hunt in the farmyard of one of the Squire's tenants, where Mr. Smalls and Mr. Bouncer put up their horses, stopped to have a glass of ale and a smoke, and to make a critical survey of certain fat oxen and pigs that were expected to cover themselves with glory and prize medals at the next meeting of the County Agricultural Society. Then they cantered back again to the Woodlands, across fields and through woods and plantations, where Huz and Buz were temporarily demoralised by the sudden up-springing of hares and the scuttling of rabbits in and out of their holes. The rector of the parish dined at the Woodlands that evening, and little thought how he had been taken by Mr. Bouncer for Dr. Dustacre.
From that gentleman there arrived, on the following morning, a most elaborate letter of mingled apologies and thanks, addressed to Mr. Bouncer; and also another letter to the Squire, saying that Mr. Winstanley had accompanied him in a quiet way, and seemed happy and contented in his temporary home. He was commissioned, he added, by his friend Dr. Plimmer (who was his successor at the County Lunatic Asylum, and was well known to Mr. Smalls), to invite the party from the Woodlands to the first annual pic-nic for the season to be given to the patients of the Asylum, on the Tuesday in the ensuing week, at Firs Hill, a spot about seven miles distant from the Woodlands. Dr. Dustacre expressed a hope that, if Mr. Bouncer had not then left, he would also join the party, and thus permit Dr. Dustacre to have the pleasure of renewing an acquaintance so singularly and inauspiciously commenced.
Said the Squire to his son's friend, "I hope you will go with us. Such a pic-nic will be a novel scene to you, and also an interesting one. I, as a visitor to the asylum, have attended more than one of their pic-nics, and also their Christmas gatherings, balls, and theatricals. Of course, only such patients are allowed to take part in the pic-nics who are sufficiently well to do so; and Dr. Plimmer is as careful and judicious on this point as was Dr. Dustacre, who originated these entertainments at our asylum. Several visitors are always invited to be present at these pic-nics, and they freely join in the dances and amusements. This helps to give a social character to the gathering, that appears to exercise a salutary influence on the afflicted inmates of the institution, whose unvarying demeanour on such occasions is a sufficient evidence of the beneficial results that have been accomplished in laying aside the terrors of chains, and whips, and darkened cells, for cheerful rooms, kind words, and humane treatment. The patients always seem glad for lady and gentleman friends to join their pic-nics, and I think you would be pleased to go with us on Tuesday. It will be a novelty for you, if nothing more."
As Mr. Bouncer had promised to stay at the Woodlands beyond the day mentioned, he, together with his host and friend, accepted Dr. Dustacre's invitation; and, when the Tuesday came, they drove over to the spot appointed for the rendezvous.
Firs Hill—or, as it was sometimes written, Furze Hill—might have received its etymology either from its firs or furze; the furze spreading in golden patches over many portions of the slope of the hill, and a small plantation of Scotch firs crowning its summit. When the trio from the Woodlands reached the spot, soon after noon, the pic-nic party had already arrived from the asylum, which was five miles distant in an opposite direction. They had come in carriages, and waggons, and a break; and, of the patients, there were about forty females and twenty males, with the matron and steward, and a staff of nurses and attendants. Dr. Dustacre and Dr. Plimmer were with them, with a few ladies and gentlemen who had received special invitations to be present. The weather was all that could be wished for such an occasion, and the party appeared to be a very happy one, the patients enjoying themselves in an orderly way. Luncheon had been laid out in al fresco style, upon the grass, within the shade of the group of Scotch firs; and, after luncheon, the party dispersed, and wandered over the hill-sides and the neighbouring meadows, enjoying the beautiful prospect, under careful, though not obtrusive, surveillance.
The spot had been admirably chosen for the purpose. At the base of the hill was a narrow, willow-girted river, winding its devious course amid rich pastures, in some of which the mowers were at work sweeping down the swathes of long grass, or sharpening their scythes, with a pleasant tinkling sound that was quite audible to the pic-nic people on the hill. A little way off was a stately mansion, of which a bird's-eye view was seen from Firs Hill, with its park and mile-long avenue of elms; then came undulating ground, with hanging coppices and a long stretch of well-wooded landscape, over which shot up the spires and towers of the county town. In the other direction was a noble range of hills, of which Firs Hill was one of many spurs, with a valley dotted with farmsteads and hamlets, and traversed at one point by a lengthy railway viaduct. Just below the hill was an old and well-cared-for church, with its trimly-kept churchyard screened by a row of chestnuts and limes, whose bright foliage contrasted with the dark solemnity of three ancient yew trees. A landscape such as this, bathed in the glories of one of the brightest and latest days of sunny June, could not fail to awaken pleasurable feelings in the breasts of those whose faculties, though obscured on certain points, seemed to be more keenly susceptible of the delights of sight and sound.
Many of the patients had wandered down the hill to the churchyard, where the rector, who was among Dr. Plimmer's visitors, showed them the old cross, and a curiously carved Norman doorway, and took them over the church, wherein were many stately monuments of members of the family who had lived at the mansion hard by. Mr. Bouncer, to whom Dr. Dustacre was making himself very agreeable, had joined this party, and was requested by one of the female patients to show her the tomb of Abel. In answer to an expressive look of the Doctor's, Mr. Bouncer pointed out a small tombstone in a corner of the south aisle; with which information the patient appeared perfectly satisfied, merely saying, "Poor Abel! he was a keeper of sheep. My father was a shepherd; but he kept out of wicked Cain's way." One of the male patients appeared to be quite an archaæologist, and gave a very correct description both of the church and the dates of the various styles in which it was built. "I perfectly remember," he said to Dr. Dustacre," that Early English capital being carved." The Doctor quietly explained to Mr. Bouncer that this patient's fancy was that he was a son of Methusaleh, and that he had already lived through a thousand years. Another patient, who had appeared to be perfectly rational while walking through the church, became somewhat excited, as they returned to the hill, at hearing some one speak of a field of turnips near to which they passed. It appeared that he was under the delusion that his head was a turnip, and that it would, some day, be appropriated for culinary purposes. But the peculiar fancies of many of the patients were not evidenced throughout the day.
When they had returned to the summit of Firs Hill, the brass band of the institution began to play a lively air. This band was not only a significant feature in the government of a lunatic asylum conducted on humane and enlightened principles, but it was also an evidence of what might be done by perseverance and instruction. It was composed of the warders of the institution, who, notwithstanding that their hours of practice were necessarily limited, had, under the judicious tuition of their bandmaster, become most efficient performers. The band played at the Asylum on certain evenings in each week; and, on Friday evenings, the patients had a dance. Dr. Plimmer assured Mr. Smalls that the introduction of music and dancing into the institution had been marked with the most beneficial results. The drummer was one of the patients; while another stood near, and with perfect gravity, held his hands up to his face, and, with voice and action, imitated the sound and playing of a trumpet.
"He is one of our most harmless and quiet people," said Dr. Plimmer; "but, one of his notions is, that his nose is a trumpet."
"It is to be feared," observed the Squire, "that many of those who are accounted sane, while they certainly blow their own noses, yet do not blow their own trumpet in such a harmless fashion."
The band struck up a country dance; and, to the lively measure of its music, the majority of the patients were soon tripping, their nurses and attendants mixing with them. The females appeared to prefer dancing with each other; and so, for the matter of that, did the males, unless they danced by themselves, as some eccentric persons preferred to do. So much had the pleasure of the day been anticipated, said Dr. Plimmer, that the patients had devoted the previous evening to unceasing "ball practice" and the preparation of polkas for the next day's performance; and they certainly proved themselves to be as admirably proficient in the mazy steps as if they had studied under a Coulon or a D'Egville.
Mr. Bouncer had particularly noticed one female patient, who was past middle age, and whose dress, although much faded and worn, betokened, together with her manner and appearance, that she had once moved in a class of society superior to that of the generality of her companions. At luncheon, she sat apart from them, by the side of the matron; and, when the dancing began, she withdrew to a lower part of the hill, where, turning her back on the gaiety, she sat down on the grassy slope, and, screening herself from the sun with a large, old-fashioned parasol, looked sadly over the landscape spread beneath her. Mr. Bouncer pointed her out to Dr. Dustacre, and asked who she was.
"She is a widow; Mrs. Flabby by name," replied the Doctor. "She came to the asylum some years ago, when I was in charge of it. She has seen better days, and been in a superior position; but a series of reverses that befel her family and fortune unsettled her reason. I fancy that she had no great strength of mind, even in her best and earliest days; but she is perfectly quiet and calm, and has never exhibited the least violence. She can be controlled by a word, or even by a threat to deprive her of her parasol; and, as you may have noticed, she keeps up her dignity, and does not mix much with her companions, although she is always polite to them. She usually sits apart, and rarely converses, except with the matron or nurses, or with the medical staff."
"I don't like to see her moping alone, and not enjoying herself like the others," said Mr. Bouncer. "Would there be any impropriety in my going and talking with her a little?"
"Certainly not," replied Dr. Dustacre. "It would be very kind of you. She is always pleased when what she calls a real gentleman or lady will converse with her. She accepts the attention as a recognition of her former social position. Of course you must be prepared to hear her talk a great deal of unconnected nonsense."
"Oh, of course! Perhaps I shall enjoy her conversation more than if she were a thoroughgoing blue stocking, who could talk like a dictionary on all sorts of subjects, from præ-Adamite formations to Shakspeare and the musical glasses."
So little Mr. Bouncer went down the hill with the benevolent intention of cheering poor Mrs. Flabby by having a chat with her.