CHAPTER II.
Mr.Wentbridge’s vicarage, situate in a pleasing district of the West Riding, amounting to about 200l. per annum, in a cheap country, afforded to very moderate wants ample means of supply.—The possessor was besides skilled in farming; and as one part of his vicarage was twenty acres of land, and he rented thirty more, he had an opportunity of employing his agricultural talents to his own emolument, and also by example to the benefit of his neighbours. No lands were better fenced or cultivated, laid out in a more skilful and productive rotation of crops, a more agreeable variety of tillage or pasturage, than the snug fields of the parson of Brotherton. Theirsituation also enabled the taste of the cultivator to superinduce elegance and beauty on fruitfulness and utility. The house was placed on the south-east slope of a gentle hill, terminating in a small plain that was bounded by a river, which, winding round the farm, appearing to rise out of woods on the right and on the left, seemed to lose itself behind an advanced post of the hill, whilst, seeking the eastern confines of Yorkshire, it hastened to make a part of the conflux of rivers that after their coalition are distinguished by the name of Humber. In this aspect was situated the chief part of the vicar’s arable farm; behind were his offices and lands of steeper ascent, bounded by a wood, which covering all the upper part of the hill, besides beautifully diversifying the scene, sheltered the parsonage from the northern blast. Here Wentbridge on a beautiful pinnacleerected a small summer-house, commanding an extensive, rich, and delightful prospect, which on the south comprehended the environs of Wakefield, Sheffield, Doncaster, and Bawtry, to the confines of Nottinghamshire; on the west, Pontefract, Leeds, Halifax; extended to the east to the borders of Lincolnshire, and to the north from the adjacent Ferrybridge to York Minster; and in its compass included the various picturesque scenes of the finest part of one of the finest counties in England.—The worthy clergyman’s heart expanded with benevolent pleasure, as from his little hut he contemplated the goodly prospect that spread around——
“Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns,And glittering towers, and gilded streams;”
“Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns,And glittering towers, and gilded streams;”
“Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns,And glittering towers, and gilded streams;”
“Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns,
And glittering towers, and gilded streams;”
—As he viewed the scenes of pastoral beauty, agricultural fruitfulness, and manufacturing skill, all combining sopowerfully to produce individual pleasure and prosperity, national opulence and grandeur. But the patriotism and philanthropy of Mr. Wentbridge were mingled with other affections, the same in general source, though more specific in object and operation. His domestic sensibilities were extremely strong, and in his relations were afforded energetic incentives to exertion. This clergyman, now about fifty-four years of age, had been half that time incumbent of Brotherton. About the age of thirty he had married the daughter of a neighbouring curate, and thereby rather hurt his worldly interest, as the niece of a right reverend bishop had cast the eyes of affection upon him, and would have brought a living of five hundred a year, intended by his lordship as a dowry to the young lady, who had, with two sisters, not very extraordinary in beauty, hung very heavilyupon his hands. The right reverend divine indeed,very contrary to the usual practice of dignitariesin the church, in his disposals ofSpiritualpreferment, bethought himself ofCarnalsubjects. In bestowing a cure of souls, he had not altogether neglected the consideration of bodies, nor, in appointing within his diocese ministers for the propagation of christian knowledge, had he overlooked the propagation of christians. In short, the bishop having in his gift a considerable number of livings, and at his disposal a no less considerable number of daughters, nieces, and cousins, had suffered it to be understood by reverend young batchelors, that the expectants of livings might be sure of success if willing to perform all the duties which his providential care had annexed to incumbency; in other words, that whoever desired the blessings of tithe pigs, must with his appointmenttake a wife by way of a fine. Mr. Wentbridge having been sounded on this subject had demurred; it was said, indeed, that he observed to a friend, that he could have no objections to the provisions which the right reverend bishop had proposed for his bread, but for his meat he liked to choose for himself. The truth is, Miss Sukey Snatchum was not a very delicate morsel.
Wentbridge, as we have said, made a different election, and got no promotion from the bishop. With his wife he lived extremely happy for twenty years, when, having caught a fever from a sick cottager, whom she deemed it her duty to visit, she, to his inexpressible grief, died, leaving two sons and one daughter. The eldest son, now about twenty-three, was brought up to his father’s profession; the second, having been on a visit to a school-fellow at Hull, was so delighted with the shipping, thathe caught a fondness for the sea, and was in the India service. The only child that constantly resided with the vicar was his daughter.
Eliza Wentbridge was about nineteen years of age, and though not regularly beautiful had an agreeable, engaging, and expressive countenance, a good height, a comely figure, with a frank, open, and unembarrassed manner, the result of good sense, good dispositions, and a judicious education. Wentbridge had, indeed, spared no pains in himself forming and directing his daughter’s understanding and heart, and his wife had contributed her share both to her mind and manners; and the savings of œconomy and self-denial had not been wanted in super-adding accomplishment to useful acquirement. For several years she had resided chiefly at Doncaster, with a sister of her mother, who, seeking independenceby laudable industry and meritorious exertion, devoted her time and talents to the superintendance of a boarding school. She was now returned to her father’s, the favourite companion of his declining years, the partner of his amusements, the minister of his bounties, the attendant of his excursions, and often the associate of his studies. Miss Wentbridge was well acquainted with the best British authors, and a very competent judge of their respective merits. She was particularly fond of history, then beginning to form so brilliant a portion of her country’s literature. She inherited from her father a very high admiration of British efforts in the various departments of ability and exertion. She admired the national heroism; often listened with delight to her father’s descriptions of the ardent struggles for independence, which repelled the operoseattempts of bigotry and despotism, under a glorious sovereign of her own sex, though she often wished, that with the great and lofty virtues of that illustrious Princess there had been mixed more of the feminine softness, the mild and gentle charities which might have spared the lovely Mary. Descending to more recent events, she would with pleasure hear the natural though homely recitals of old Maxwell, and enjoy the fire of his eye, when describing the defence of Bergen-op-Zoom, or the capture of Quebec; she was well acquainted with the events of the war just terminated, especially such as displayed heroism, or manifested British character. Such was the young lady to whom Major Hamilton was now introduced. Hamilton himself was a man of a very prepossessing appearance, tall, and graceful; in face, figure, and deportment, at once elegant and manly. Hewas now twenty-eight years of age, eleven of which had been passed in his Majesty’s service.—At the commencement of the war he had become a lieutenant. Quebec made him a captain, the Havannah a major. Maxwell had, with his usual glee, recited the actions to which he himself had been a witness, and had not been sparing in celebrating his praises, and included the fortitude with which he had borne his late disaster. Mr. Wentbridge had also spoken in terms of praise, esteem, and respect concerning the abilities and sentiments of his new acquaintance, so that Miss Wentbridge had before she saw him received a very favourable impression of the guest whom her father now brought to the parsonage. Though for the present lame, Hamilton was a very fine man, and, though pale for want of exercise, had a countenance extremely impressive andinteresting, intelligent, and animated, with fine blue eyes, which failed not to speak what he thought and felt. He was extremely pleased with the acquaintance which he had now made, and did not fail to testify by words and looks the satisfaction which he received.
In a few weeks Hamilton’s disaster was healed, but he continued at Maxwell’s, “apprehensive,” he said, “of the consequences of a long journey.”—The surgeon, indeed, declared to him, that he might now proceed northwards whenever he chose; but though he had shewn the most thorough conviction of the other’s medical skill, had declared his perfect satisfaction with the treatment of his own wound, and had made a handsome pecuniary recompence, still, however, he did not rely so completely on his authority as to commence his travels. Meanwhile he spent the greaterpart of his time at the vicarage, where his heart became completely captivated, and he, ere it was long, had the satisfaction to find, that Miss Wentbridge was not insensible to his attentions. Having none to control his inclination, he had no motive to disguise his wishes from the venerable clergyman, and frequently, when they were alone, declared in general terms the high respect he had for his daughter, but did not descend to more particular explanations, until he should ascertain the sentiments of the young lady herself. He had not, indeed, any reason to suspect aversion, but he wished to be more accurately certified, that he might not have construed complacency, or at most esteem, into affection.
It was now the latter end of October, and the season being wet, the autumnal rains had swelled brooks into rivers, when our soldier, in his wayto the parsonage, perceiving the young lady in a shrubbery by the summer-house before mentioned, hastened to join her, over a long plank which connected the banks of a rivulet, that passed the lower walks of their pleasure-ground, instead of taking a circuit of thirty yards to a regular bridge. The place where he was to cross being a small level at the bottom of a steep hill, formed a kind of pond, supplied by the cascade from the upper ground, and now deepened by the great accumulation of water. The plank being slippery, and Hamilton not having completely recovered the dextrous command of his limb, he tumbled into the pool and entirely disappeared. Mr. Wentbridge, who was in a distant part of the shrubbery, aroused by a single shriek, ran to the spot whence the voice had issued, and found his daughter in a swoon, whence being by his efforts recovered,she awoke only to misery, and called on the name of Hamilton, in the wildest phrenzy of despairing love. The worthy clergyman, who had before suspected the passion of his daughter, was now apprehensive that some dreadful disaster had befallen its object. He had been able to remove Eliza to a mossy bench, and she was still, in terms of the most endearing affection, deploring the beloved youth; when, descending from the summer-house, he presented himself safe and sound, though all dropping with wet. Our Major had been stunned by the sudden plunge, but soon recovering had swam to the bottom of the bank, and waded farther down, where he saw the ascent was more practicable, and, missing the nearest path, had through the labyrinth of a grove found a difficulty in regaining a view of the summer-house, to which the way was entangledby copse and briars, and hence so much time had elapsed before his return. He with rapture heard his Eliza bewailing his fate. When she was so far recovered as to be conscious of his return, first her astonishment, her anxious doubts, and lastly her joy, gave her lover the conviction which he had so eagerly desired to receive. The considerate care of the father hastened him away to the comforts of a fire and dry clothes, before he would suffer him to explain the circumstances of his escape to the young lady, who still appeared to entertain an unsettled belief of the reality.
In an hour Hamilton completely readjusted, and secure from every disagreeable effect of this involuntary cold bath, was alive only to the delightful sensations which its effects had produced.
When he rejoined the fair hostess, in her blushes, in the enchanted and enchantingpleasure of her countenance, he read the confirmation of the sentiments which her despair had betrayed. She no longer attempted to disguise the delight with which she listened to his addresses, and the tenderness which she felt for his virtues and accomplishments. He the following day, with her consent, applied to her father, and his proposals were most favourably and gladly received by the vicar, from personal esteem and not from motives of interest. A country squire, far superior to this gallant officer in fortune, had made proposals to Miss Wentbridge, which the father never approved, and the daughter had ever most positively rejected. Hamilton, also, if he had chosen to sacrifice at the shrine of avarice might at different times have affianced himself to riches, but especially during his recent stay at London, where his charmshad made a conquest of the only daughter of an eminent dry-salter, with whom he had danced at a ball, at the Mary-le-bone gardens. But though both parties disregarded interest as the principal ground of matrimonial connection, yet it was resolved not completely to disregard pecuniary convenience.
Hamilton received pressing letters from his Scottish friends to repair to the north, to arrange some concerns with his elder brother, possessor of his paternal estate; and saw the necessity of compliance. He wished his destiny to be irrevocably united to his Eliza’s before his departure; but the affair being referred to the arbitration of the vicar, he in a friendly award recommended to the parties to postpone the accomplishment of their purpose until after Hamilton’s return. The reasons which he assigned for this procrastination, thoughnot conformable to the wishes of the lovers, were such as their judgments could not but approve.
Hamilton accordingly set off for his own country, and arrived at the seat of his ancestors. His elder brother, Hamilton, of Etterick, was a country gentleman, of about five and thirty, mild in his temper, amiable in his disposition, and hospitable in his manner of living. He possessed a good estate, and, being still a bachelor, proposed by marriage to make it better. He had, indeed, for several years been, to use his own expression, looking about him for a wife. This circumspiciency was not without discrimination. His object was what the Scotch calla well-tochered lass, that is, a young lady with a good portion. Having this simple purpose in view, he had made his addresses successively to every heiress within forty miles of him,and had not neglected the proprietors of legacies from old aunts, cousins, or any other enriching windfall, nor even dowagers if they had a fortune as well as a jointure. Indeed it had been observed, that when a lady, to whom he had paid no attention before, happened to have benefited by any such casualty, he immediately ordered a new pair of buck-skin breeches, and rode off a courting. If these expeditions proved unsuccessful, it was not for the want of a fixed plan of operations. He had been instructed by a friend, that ladies were fond of receiving love-letters. He, therefore, like Parson Adams with his sermons, generally travelled with one about him, in case of what might happen. Not being a man of very fertile invention, the composition of such productions was not to him a matter of ready execution. The best substitutefor riches is parsimony. If, therefore, his genius could not do much, the next best means was to make a little go a great way. He very cunningly contrived that one letter should serve many courtships. He, as was before observed, proceeded by regular approaches, being well apprised of the stores in the garrison. His disposition for the siege were first, as we have said, the buck-skin breeches, with which he proposed to open the trenches, that he might make good his communication with the covered way. His next step was the letter, or proffered terms of capitulation. This summons was to the following effect:—
“Madam, having by the death of my mother, and the marriage of my sisters, a kind of vacancy in the family, that makes the house somewhat lonesome, I find I shall be obliged to enter into thematrimonial state. Understanding, from report, that you are not disinclineable to the married condition, I have thought of making you proposals. All my friends give you a very high character, that I assure you, not any consideration of property is what now induces me to make bold. Besides the extraordinary beauty of your face and person, the whiteness of your skin, your shining eyes, and the fine fall of your shoulders, the dignity of your walk, not to mention other charms, which, though invisible, may be well supposed, has created in me a passion, which preys upon my heart, and will, if not gratified, throw me into a consumption; which, as the Family Physician observes, is, in this country, a very frequent and dangerous distemper. Your fortune, I do assure you, is totally out of my thoughts, and, if you had not a shilling, I should prefer you to any other woman,though mistress of all the riches in the city of Glasgow. I hope, therefore, you will have compassion upon your sincere lover, who thinks of nothing but your charms. My lawyer will meet with yours whenever you may please to appoint.—I propose a jointure, which, if you should survive me, will give you ten per cent. for your money; the said money thereupon to become my property.—With the most disinterested love, I am, madam, your adoring swain,
Duncan Hamilton.”
Though this letter, in many cases, answered pretty well, yet, in some, it did not altogether suit. Among the various objects of his passion was a Creole, to whom the praise of whiteness of skin did not entirely apply; a lady who squinted, that could not so properly be praised for her eyes. To a third, the fall of the shoulders had been as well left out, asshe happened to be somewhat humpbacked; a fourth, that limped, might have dispensed with the encomiums bestowed on gracefulness of gesture.—The laird of Etterick having circulated his courtship to every opulent lady that he could hear of was soon smoaked. The portioned misses and dames began to compare notes, and found that as the object was the same in all his love pursuits, viz. the rent-roll, funded property, and cash at their bankers’, the means were similar in every case. At last the laird of Etterick’s courtship became a jest in the country, and he, now approaching forty, was a bachelor. His personal charms were not very likely to shorten his celibacy. He was about five feet four inches high, and extremely slender, with stooping shoulders, and a pair of legs, whose shape, though often rousing men to martial deeds, when beating on akettle-drum, were not the most promising supporters for a lover.
Hamilton found his worthy senior extremely rejoiced to see him, but somewhat downcast at a late disappointment. An estate within two or three miles of him had, it seems, devolved upon an elderly maiden by the death of a nephew. As, besides her age, she happened to have but one eye, he had sanguinely hoped for success, and made his addresses a few days after the interment; but the lady, large raw-boned and red hair, bestowed her hand and fortune on an Irish recruiting sergeant of grenadiers.—As rebuffs, however, were familiar to this suitor, he was not very deeply afflicted. Major Hamilton soon opened to his brother his engagements with the fair Eliza, and expatiated on the charms of his lovely mistress. The brother confined his remarks to one question, whetherthe property of her father was in land, mortgages, or the funds? As the major, though he strongly praised other qualifications of his fair mistress, did not dwell upon her fortune, the laird was not without apprehensions that he had neglected the main chance, and advised him to be cautious. “As to love,” says he, “my dear brother, it does not make the pot boil, and as you soldiers are none of the richest, I think it would be much better for you to look after a girl of substance, than to give up your mind to beauty. There are close by the Eilden hills two young women, just come to capital fortunes, by the death of their uncle, a rich Paisley weaver. I only heard of it two days ago, and should have been off immediately myself, but that I was waiting for you, and also for a pair of new boots. They have ten thousand pounds each, besides a good freeholdestate;—that, my dear brother, would be just the thing to fit us. Indeed I have even made up my mind how we should dispose of the money; I would sell to you, for seven thousand pounds, my spouse’s half of the estate, so that you would be a landed gentleman of five hundred a year, with three thousand more to get you on in the army, which, being now time of peace, is as good a way of laying out your money as any other. Besides, then I could afford to pay you your portion, which, now as I have been making purchases and improvements, would derange my plans. I think there is no time to be lost; for there will be other chaps in the market; and it being indifferent to me which I shall marry, you may have your choice.” —The major was totally unmoved by the proffered pieces of manufactory, but informed his brother, that respecting hisportion, about fifteen hundred pounds, he knew that the proprietor of Etterick could command such a sum at a day’s notice, and that, as he might have immediate occasion for it, it would be necessary to make arrangements for its payment when demanded. This intimation the laird, who gained much more by his employment of this sum than he paid for its use, did not altogether relish, but as he could not contest the point, he answered;—Certainly it was reasonable the major should receive his money, but that it was not so easy to be raised as he imagined. Hamilton had, indeed, made repeated applications from abroad, to have the sum in question remitted to a banker in London, to be vested in the funds. But the laird as often eluded the requisition.—Though really attached to his brother, yet he did not forget that, like the brotherof every body else, he was mortal, and probably the sooner for his profession; and thought that, to use his own phrase, “a bird in hand was worth two in the bush; and the money, to which he was eventually heir, was as well in his own custody.” The laird, with a very moderate understanding, and mild milkiness of disposition, had a heart less contracted by interested selfishness, than debarred from benevolent exertion, by feeble timidity, or misguided by family vanity. His heiress-hunting adventures did not arise so much from grasping avarice, as from a desire of aggrandizing the house of Etterick. His pecuniary anxieties resulted less from the desire of accumulation, the means of gratifying which he had fully in his power, than the fear of incurring difficulties, for which there were, in his situation, no probable grounds. Hamilton had written him onhis arrival in England, that he desired to have the disposal of his own money; the laird having lately bought a property contiguous to his estate, saw that he could not discharge his brother’s claim without borrowing, and conceived himself about to be embarrassed, although his estate was two thousand a year, without any other incumbrance. He had complained to their mutual friends, of the loss that would accrue to him, if the major insisted on payment. Those friends, knowing the little foundation for the laird’s apprehensions, urged his brother to have the affair settled as speedily as possible, by coming to the spot himself.
The proprietor of Etterick, during the first days of Hamilton’s visit, repeatedly endeavoured to dissuade him from his intended marriage, and from taking his money into his own management; but found himself entirely disappointedin both. At last, a neighbouring gentleman advanced the sum upon the laird’s personal bond, and Hamilton soon after returned to the south. He had meanwhile arranged, by letters, the investment of his property, and the prolongation of his leave of absence, so that the six following months he could, without interruption, devote to love and his Eliza.