AFTER an 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 expedition a
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 of whispering; 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 of a topping butcher,
extremely proud of the honour of having to wife the _nevoy_ of 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 corporation entertainment. 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, yet softly 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, and
horizontally 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 a _capias, 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 a _nisi 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 intention or 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
into a 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.”
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.