CHAPTER III.
Afteran absence of six weeks, which had appeared as many years, he found himself in sight of the vicarage, and as his chaise ascended the hill, hailed old Maxwell, who blessed him with the intelligence, that Miss Wentbridge was in perfect health; and in a few minutes he was in the vicar’s parlour, and received by the object of his fond attachment, in such a manner as shewed, that his mistress’s love, though less impetuous, was no less ardent than his own. The worthy vicar who, superintending the labours of the opening spring, had, from an adjacent field, beheld his arrival, in a few minutes joined the enchanted couple, and diverted their emotions.During the absence of Hamilton, the vicar had, in an annual visit at the archi-episcopal palace of York, become acquainted with a general officer of distinguished fame, who spoke very highly of the abilities, virtues, and high promises of Hamilton. The testimony of so competent a judge, coinciding with the opinion which he had himself formed, enhanced Wentbridge’s estimation of the merits of his brave young friend; and in the destined husband of his daughter, he fancied he beheld a future commander-in-chief of an army, fighting for his king and country. Mr. Wentbridge, with the expansion of the philosophical scholar, and the liberality of the enlightened gentleman, was not without a professional predilection for forms of little intrinsic importance. He preferred marriage after the more tedious process of publishing the banns, to the expeditiona licence, so much more consonant to the eagerness of lovers. As he was extremely tenacious on this subject, the impatience of the gentleman, and perhaps of the lady, was obliged to give way.—To divide the feelings of so very tantalizing a situation, the judicious clergyman promoted parties and amusements. One of these was a visit to Doncaster, to be present at a ball. Among the company there came, in the party of the mayoress, two ladies, the one old and the other young, both remarkable for the supercilious sourness of their countenances, which, though not entirely ugly, were extremely disagreeable. The old one, naturally short, appeared still more abridged by a habit of stooping, arising chiefly from the eager anxiety with which she bent herself in company to listen to what was going forward, especially if there was any appearance ofwhispering; and as she had of late become a little deaf, greater efforts were necessary: so that, next to the acidity which we have before remarked, the chief expression of her visage was the straining of curiosity not altogether gratified.—The young one, though not much sweeter than the other in the natural cast of her visage, tried to make up that deficiency by industry, and where a young man to her mind made his appearance, she smiled, and simpered, and lisped, but all could not conceal the groundwork. On these occasions she succeeded no better than children who, attempting to lessen the bitterness of the apothecary’s potions by lumps of sugar, only make the dose more mawkish and loathsome.
This mother and daughter (for so they were) were hardly seated, when Hamilton and his mistress rose to dance a minuet.The beauties of Eliza’s face and person, with the graces of her performance, were of themselves sufficient to rouse the censorious animadversions of Mrs. Sourkrout; but another cause called forth associations of more poignant malignity. She fancied she recognized the exact image of one who had gained the affections of the man whom she had destined for herself. Enquiring the name of the miss that (as she phrased it) was figuring away, she was confirmed in her conjecture, on hearing it was Wentbridge. This Mrs. Sourkrout was that niece of a right reverend bishop, whom we have before mentioned, as intended by his lordship, as the condition to be annexed to the gift which he would have bestowed upon Mr. Wentbridge, for the cure of souls. By the unexpected death of her uncle, failing in her hopes of a spiritual incumbent, she had accepted of a carnal, and became the lady ofa topping butcher, extremely proud of the honour of having to wife thenevoyof my lord the bishop. Mr. Sourkrout throve a-pace, rose to be alderman of the corporation, and at last to be mayor. Madam was not insensible to this elevation, and deported herself with what she conceived suitable dignity, by taking the lead in all companies of the borough, that was the scene of her grandeur. Even afterwards, when, upon the decease of her spouse, she began to think herself slighted in the scene of her late glory, and retired to a distant part of the country, she, among her new acquaintances, as the dowager of a mayor, expected an homage and deference, which she was not always so fortunate as to meet; and, happening to fix upon a neighbourhood not deficient in real gentry, she found herself less valued there, than when presiding over the municipal gossips of her corporationentertainment. This inattention to her dignity added to the sourness of her temper, not naturally very sweet. There was another source of bitterness; the lapse of many years had not obliterated the disappointment of her youth, and if love for the husband might have, perhaps, evaporated from a heart not the best adapted for retaining tender affections, there was one passion which remained in its earliest force, hatred for the wife. She had hated her when alive, and still hated her when dead. Brooding over her detestation, her fancy saw its object in all that torture and tormenting beauty and loveliness, which had captivated the object of her own passion. She had heard, with rage, of the charms of Eliza, and her striking resemblance of her mother. As the devil, in sending envy to the human heart, sends its severest punishment in the admiration of its object, and its own rankling gall,she could not, for her soul, avoid thinking Eliza the most engaging woman in the room. Nay, her attempts, in her own mind, to under-rate the charms of Miss Wentbridge, recoiled on herself in exaggerating their witchery. But though envy cannot really force itself to a contempt of its object, it may easily try to assume that disguise. Mrs. Sourkrout, while pining at the perception of such excellence, observed to her next neighbour, that the young person on the floor, though awkward and hoydenish, was a decent enough looking girl. “I suppose,” says she, “she is the daughter of some farmer, curate, or excise-man; it is wrong of them people bringing their daughters into genteel company; it gives them high and foolish notions; don’t you think so, my dear,” said she, turning to her daughter; “Yes ma’am,” was all the answer that came from Miss,who, had paid little attention to the question or antecedent conversation. Miss’s thoughts were indeed far otherwise employed.
Those observers of character, countenance, and dispositions, greatly err; who, from acidity, or even harshness of visage, temper, conversation, and actions, infer in women an insensibility to amorous passions. Indeed these appearances very often arise from extreme sensibility, crossed in its pursuits, repining at the want of attainment, or, perhaps, regreting unfortunate success. Mary of England, the votary of the sourest bigotry, was still more the devotee of boundless love for her husband. There has often been observed to be a considerable analogy between mankind and irrational animals. We know there are cats who will scratch, and bite, and tear others with all the dissonance of squalling treble, yetsoftly and gently purr upon their mates. Miss Sourkrout was a very susceptible young damsel; and if she still remained in a state of celibacy, it was not for want of good will to the opposite condition.—She had often shot the rays of love from her azure-coloured orbs, but they had not reached the destined marks. Perhaps, indeed, this might be owing to their oblique direction; for it often happened, that when she intended to direct the artillery of her charms to the front, its force was spent beyond the right or the left wing.
Miss Sourkrout had no sooner beheld the manly and graceful Hamilton, than she was captivated. She immediately betook herself to ogling, an art in which if she was not perfect, it was not for want of practice. Planting her batteries opposite to him, she forgot that the movements of her gunnery were more curvilineal than suited her purpose, andhorizontally instead of perpendicularly carried best at an angle of forty-five.—She was enraged at the apparent insensibility of the major, whom she deemed impenetrable to all her glances; but in fact none of them had reached him.—Those from her right eye caused much agitation in the heart of a superannuated beau, that sat near the fire at the upper end of the room; whereas the left reaching an attorney’s clerk, who sat by the door at the bottom, he conceived himself challenged to execute acapias, alias, et pluries.—This learned gentleman, not ignorant of the goods, tenements, and hereditaments of Miss Sourkrout, formed a resolution, which he communicated immediately to a friend (the waiter by whom he had been introduced), to leave his master, get possession of Miss and her property, and, perhaps, might have obtained a verdict in his favour, but for anisi prius, which proved the young lady’s affections to be the property of another defendant.
Miss Sourkrout, after having in vain endeavoured to make Hamilton sensible of her sentiments, made some enquiries, in consequence of which, she learned his name, and also his approaching marriage with his partner, whom, in her own mind, she presently denounced for the severest vengeance. She did not doubt, that so very accomplished a gentleman must have been entrapped, before he could involve himself in marriage with a girl of so very inferior a fortune. She concluded, that such a project must arise from the forwardness of the young lady, and the lover’s unacquaintance with an object worthy of his addresses. She, during the country dances, made overtures to conversation which the major, having no suspicion of her intentionor design, returning with the usual complacency of a gentleman, impressed Miss Sourkrout with an idea, that her regards were perceived by the object, and that the discovery was agreeable. As the ball broke up, watching Hamilton’s motions, she whispered him on the stairs, that he should hear from her in the morning. Accordingly as they were ready to set out for the vicarage, a letter was brought to Hamilton, subscribed Juliet, declaring he was the Romeo had won her affections at a dance, and hoping that the former Rosalind would, in his affections, give way to another mistress. Hamilton, who had not been unused to such billets, smiled and put the letter in his pocket, neither knowing nor desiring to know who might be the author. The lady, finding that her hero was departed without paying any attention to so tender an intimation, fell intoa furious passion, terminating in a fit that soon summoned her mother. The old lady learning the cause of this commotion, sympathized readily in her daughter’s resentment, and even prompted its effusions, when she considered that the successful rival of Grizzelina was the daughter of that abominated woman, who had triumphed over herself. The mother and daughter, not knowing that the nuptials were so very near, agitated various schemes for preventing their accomplishment.
Meanwhile the auspicious day arrived, which was to unite this gallant soldier to his lovely mistress. They were married in the parish church; old Maxwell, at the express desire of the bridegroom and bride, made one of the guests at the wedding-dinner. The day was spent in the most happy cheerfulness, rising to a festive conviviality in some of the guests,especially the veteran halberdier, which, on any other occasion, the vicar would probably have reproved; but his heart now so overflowed, that he readily forgave the effect arising from the overflowings of his cellar.
Maxwell, in his cups, descanted on the soldier’s character, and especially the superior success of military men among the ladies. On that topic he sang as well as he could, the famous song of Dumbarton’s drums, dwelling with peculiar emphasis on the verse—
“A soldier alone can delight me O,His manly looks do invite me O, &c.”
“A soldier alone can delight me O,His manly looks do invite me O, &c.”
“A soldier alone can delight me O,His manly looks do invite me O, &c.”
“A soldier alone can delight me O,
His manly looks do invite me O, &c.”
As several young neighbours were present, a dance was proposed, and towards the close, Maxwell, who at the beginning had refreshed himself with a nap, proposed to the company to dance a hornpipe: the Dusty Miller was attempted,but the music was so little to the performer’s mind, that he begged the noble commander, as he styled him, to shew them what Scotch musicianers could do. Hamilton good-humouredly took his own violin, on which he was a very masterly player, and desired his veteran friend to name his tune; Maxwell accordingly called for—If you kiss my wife.—Hamilton executed it in so animating a style as quite inspired the sergeant to feats of agility, that Ireland himself could hardly surpass. Supper soon after terminated the ball; the party broke up; Hamilton retired to the happiness of virtuous love in the arms of his Eliza.