THE old gentleman received his nephew with very great delight, and
having ordered for him every refreshment that the house afforded, or
at least that he could command, proceeded without delay to unfold his
various reasons for requesting the presence of William. “I had,” he
said, “many trials while my wife was alive, but it pleased the Lord to
take her to himself. I was resigned, and since that time have lived
with Susan very comfortably. She, to be sure, was down in the mouth,
from the behaviour of (whispering) that damned scoundrel her husband;
and sometimes I have thought that, bad as he was, she regretted his
absence as much as any thing, however, that’s between ourselves. In
fact, he returned about a month ago, and behaved very civilly for a
week, and his wife appeared as fond of him as ever. I hoped he had
taken himself up, and to encourage him, allowed him as much money as I
could spare for the present, and promised to do more if he continued
to behave himself: but I soon found the money did him more harm than
good: he returned to his old practices, and at length became so
extremely insolent that I dare hardly call my house my own. He daily
abuses me for having (he says) _defrauded him_, by securing my property
as I have done; and as to my daughter, he takes up with the vilest
trollops under her very nose; and told her, no longer ago than last
night, in his cups, that he knew no other use that she and the old
fool her father could be of, but by their fortune giving him the means
of pleasure. He has no idea that I wrote to you to come down, and
talks very highly, boastingly, and falsely, about your encounter and
his in Yorkshire.”--After farther conversation Hamilton retired into
an adjoining dressing-room, to make some change in his habiliments,
when Mr. O’Rourke, who, having been abroad, had heard nothing of the
guest that was arrived, entered the apartment, and accosting the laird
in a loud and imperious tone, told him that he required more money
immediately. “I have a demand that cannot be put off; so I must have
none of your excuses or delays.” “I have really no money for you; you
know very well how I am circumstanced.” “Yes, yes, I know how those
villains choused you.” “What villains, sir?” “Your brother and his
son, to be sure; but I fancy the son will keep out of my way again.”
“Here he comes,” said the old gentleman, “to answer for himself”; and
immediately our hero presented himself before O’Rourke. Astonishment at
first suspended the faculties of the preacher, but was soon succeeded
by consternation and fear, and as Hamilton sternly regarded him, the
impudence of the bully was totally overwhelmed by the dread of merited
chastisement. Hamilton, however, abstaining from actual violence,
coolly asked his uncle if he would leave the management of the man
entirely to him? “That I will my dear nephew: you know I sent for you
for that very purpose.”--“Then,” said Hamilton, “you, Mr. O’Rourke,
withdraw, until my uncle and I determine how to proceed.” This command
he very submissively and expeditiously obeyed. Having learned the
details of O’Rourke’s conduct, our hero asked his uncle, whether he
did not think a separation would be the wisest measure? “I think so,”
said the laird, “but I am afraid Susan will not altogether agree; for
she has still a great hankering after the fellow.” Mrs. O’Rourke now
came to pay her compliments to her cousin, bringing with her her little
boy, whom she introduced to William, who bestowed great encomiums on
his young relation. The lady answered with a sigh, that he already
appeared to have the look and shape of his father. Hamilton, as they
farther conversed, easily discovered that an entire separation was
not to the lady’s mind. Of course it would be totally inexpedient
to propose such a measure. She expressed her hopes, that he might
be reclaimed, and earnestly conjured Hamilton to devise some means
for making the experiment. While they were deliberating, a servant
entering in hurry and agitation, informed them, that there were king’s
messengers[4] below, and that they were in pursuit of Mr. O’Rourke.
Hamilton, having inquired into the circumstances of the case, found
that they were writs against the preacher, for sums amounting to five
hundred pounds, for debts incurred during his former residence in
that country, and that other prosecutions were threatened from places
which he had since visited, in the course of his methodistical mission
or other adventures. Hamilton advised his uncle not to interfere
immediately, but to suffer him to undergo, for a time, the punishment
of his vices, and afterwards to relieve him conditionally, according
to his future conduct. Etterick agreeing to this advice, O’Rourke was,
for the present, taken to the county gaol. Hamilton, in a day or two,
sent the steward to see the prisoner, and endeavour to learn from
himself the amount of his incumbrances. O’Rourke, abject in adversity,
humbled himself before this agent, whom, in the insolence of fancied
prosperity, he had formerly treated with imperious rudeness; in the
most supplicatory terms entreated his interposition, acknowledged his
own unworthiness, and confessed that his debts were not much less than
a thousand pounds. He wrote letters to his wife, father-in-law, and our
hero, reproaching himself and praying forgiveness. These humiliations
wrought upon the feelings of Mrs. O’Rourke, and at her earnest
entreaties it was agreed that the laird should privately guarantee a
loan for the liquidation of the debts, but that the land-steward, who
was to be the ostensible lender, should take O’Rourke’s bond, to be
held _in terrorem_, with a threat of execution if he repeated any of
his former misconduct. Hamilton both before and after the release spent
much time in exhorting the husband of his cousin to act as became the
connection which he had formed, and advised him particularly to abstain
from hard drinking and from methodism, both of which intoxicating the
brain, unhinging the faculties, and giving full reins to passion, often
led to madness, profligacy, or both. O’Rourke acknowledged that it was
very true, and promised faithfully hereafter to avoid the drunkenness
of either strong liquor or fanaticism, both of which he confessed
from experience, heightened the propensity towards loose women and
other irregularities. Though Hamilton did not altogether rely on the
conscientious penitence of this person, yet knowing that his fears,
wherever circumstances led them to operate, would powerfully influence
his actions, desired to have him under his own eye. He, therefore,
prevailed with the father and daughter to spend the following winter in
London, and to pass the intervening time at different watering places,
whither he promised occasionally to join their party. Arrangements
being made for their meeting in England, our hero informed them that he
had engaged to visit a college-friend in Yorkshire. He took his uncle’s
horses to Berwick, whence he set out by the mail, in which, though full
of passengers, nothing occurred interesting in itself, or, at least,
that engaged the attention of our hero, which was entirely engrossed
by the anticipation of the pleasure he was to receive at Oak-Grove.
Arriving at Northallerton, and inquiring about Mr. Mortimer’s family,
he had the happiness to hear that they were all in perfect health; and
hastily dining, he walked on towards Oak-Grove.
The morning on which the squire and his daughter had parted with
Hamilton, they had immediately gone home; Mr. Mortimer retired to
bed and to sleep; his daughter to bed, but not to sleep. Some hours
after she descended to the parlour, where she found herself in the
affectionate arms of her brother John. Having asked many kind questions
about herself and their father, and how she liked London, he could
not help observing, that, retaining all her sweetness and tenderness,
she was much less sprightly and communicative.--“What’s the matter
with you, Maria? have you lost your heart that you are so pensive?”
At this question, Maria bushed, but pretended to laugh. Before she
could answer the question, her father making his appearance, after the
reciprocity of embrace, of looks, and expressions, that parental and
filial love might be expected to produce, and some discourse on private
and domestic affairs, he turned to his daughter:--“Well, Maria, how
long,” he said, “have you been up?” “Near these two hours, sir.” “O,
then you have been telling John all the fine sights you have seen,
at the plays, and operas, and Ranelagh, and Vauxhall.” “Very little
of that,” said John. “And of his friend, our fellow-traveller.”--“My
friend, your fellow-traveller?” said the son: “no not a word: who was
he?” “Lord, girl, how came you to be so forgetful? Besides, the young
man was really very civil to you.” Maria again blushed. “Who is the
subject of your discourse?” said John. “Your friend Mr. Hamilton was
our fellow traveller from Hertford; and as fine a young man as ever I
saw; is he not, Maria?”--“Pretty well, pretty well,” replied the lady;
“nothing extraordinary,” repeating her blushes. “Pretty well!” replied
the father; “by the lord Harry, miss, I believe you had not the use of
your eyes. I think he’s a very handsome and a very fine young man. I am
sure John does not agree in your opinion, do you, John?” “Not in the
opinion which she has expressed.” “And besides you are to consider you
are very much obliged to him; he saved you from a very bad fall.” Maria
now pretended some errand out of the room, and the father continued
to descant upon the agreeableness of Hamilton, and his attentions to
Maria and to him on finding who they were. “I don’t know how it was,”
he said, “Maria is an excellent girl, and a daughter to my wish, and I
have hardly any occasion to find fault with her, but she was silent and
reserved during most of the journey. I invited your friend to visit us
as he returns from Scotland. I winked and even whispered to her, that
out of common civility she ought to join in the invitation, but she did
not say a word.”
Mr. Mortimer was an extremely worthy man; but, totally without disguise
himself, he did not readily suspect it in any other. John was a man
of abilities, penetration, well-acquainted with the world, and with
the fair sex, and not ignorant of the artifices and dissimulation
which modesty and delicacy often introduce in the most virtuous and
elevated female bosoms. He heard from the communicative old gentleman,
all the detail of their journey, including the dashing miss that set
off with Hamilton. In various conversations with his sister he turned
the discourse upon his friend, but observed that she rather shifted
the subject. She was much graver than usual, or if she attempted
the appearance of gaiety, it was evidently an effort. One day a
family in the neighbourhood was dining at Mr. Mortimer’s, and Maria,
with a companion, was seated near a window that commanded a view of
Northallerton, and the interjacent fields, and exerting herself to
amuse the company, she had begun a very animated account of the comic
performance of Mrs. Jordan in the country girl, and had placed her on
the table sealing the letter, when the gate-bell ringing, she hastily
turned about, and as hastily withdrawing her eyes, was overspread with
blushes, and stopped short in the middle of her description. “Dear
Maria,” said the father, “what’s the matter with you, girl?” A servant
now entering addressed Mr. Mortimer, saying, “_Here be a young squire
axing for my measter and young measter_:” and immediately after, our
hero made his appearance, and was received with warm affection by his
friend, and cordial kindness by the old gentleman. His reception from
Maria appeared to her father too cold a civility to an acquaintance,
who was the friend of her brother, to whom she herself had been
obliged. When the ladies withdrew, they all, with the exception of
Maria, united in praising the face, figure, and address of the young
stranger.--Though Miss Mortimer was far from dissenting in her heart
from these opinions, yet she had several reasons for concealing her
acquiescence. Maria had often, among her companions, ridiculed the
folly of love at first sight, and declared the thought it impossible
for a rational woman to be enamoured of a man, however agreeable in
appearance and manners, before she had an opportunity of knowing the
qualities of his understanding and heart; and also, unless she had
reason to conceive him attached to herself. This theory Miss Mortimer
had often supported with brilliant ingenuity, but had begun now to
apprehend that, like many plausible and splendid hypotheses, it would
not stand the test of experiment. She really feared that she prized
her fellow-traveller much too highly for so short an acquaintance,
and besides, had not been without uneasiness since his departure, in
company with the lady from Northallerton. Delicacy had restrained not
only the tongue, but the eyes of our hero from that expression which
his heart dictated, and though the young lady would have been ashamed
and vexed by the repetition of the looks which she had received in
the coach, she, perhaps, was not altogether pleased at what she,
not certain as to the motive, considered as a change. A lady whose
affections are perfectly unengaged, may be pleased with attentions,
which are merely homage to her charms, and, though indifferent to
the man who has bestowed them, may be piqued or mortified at their
discontinuance, real or imagined. The mind of Maria, however, was
too strong to be much affected by pique. She was less mortified than
anxious. She recollected, however, that there was no motive, which
she could avow, for coldness and distance to a gentleman who was her
father’s guest, the intimate friend of her brother, and whose manners
and deportment had a claim to every attention which the politeness
of hospitality could exact from a younger and fair hostess: she,
therefore, resolved to attempt a greater degree of care and frankness.
At tea, the worthy host, in order to amuse the company with a joke,
a pastime of which he was very fond, began to roast our hero about
his fellow-traveller to the north. Hamilton, whose eyes were turned
towards Miss Mortimer, observed her flush and suddenly look to him at
this address, but on perceiving the direction of his eyes withdraw
hers in confusion. Animated by these movements, which he flattered
himself indicated, at least, a curiosity about his conduct, he very
eagerly and briefly related her meeting with an officer, who appeared
to be her husband; and having spoken very slightly of the appearance
and accomplishments of the lady, he, for some reason, chose to descant
on the grace, elegance, and manly beauty of the gentleman whom she
had met. He did not, he said, know who they were, having parted with
them at Morpeth, and having heard nothing, and indeed thought nothing
of them from that time to the present. Maria in this account saw two
circumstances, with neither of which she was displeased: first, that
Hamilton had cultivated no acquaintance with the lady: secondly, that
he was extremely desirous to make that known. One or two opportunities
had occurred for his countenance speaking to Maria the energetic
and impassioned language of love; and she did not misunderstand the
expression.
A country performer, who had learned that there was a party at Oak
Grove, arrived with his violin and rural second, to exhilarate the
company. The strains of loyalty, begun in the vestibule, announced his
arrival. He and his comrade were instantly introduced; and Hamilton
requested the hand of the charming hostess. Both gentleman and lady
excelled in agility, grace, and justness of musical ear; and though
all the other young people acquitted themselves extremely well, yet
no couple equalled, or nearly equalled, William and Maria.--In the
course of their festive amusement, and in the intervals of rest, our
hero did not fail to tell his fair partner how beautiful she was,
how lovely, how irresistibly interesting. She pretended to consider
these declarations as mere words of course, and to answer with gay
indifference. Gaiety, sprightliness, and brilliancy she displayed;
indifference did not appear. Our hero, inspired by Maria, and moreover
warmed with the social bowl, to which the old gentleman had allowed but
little respite, gave vent, after supper, to his imagination; delighted
by the novelty and beauty of his imagery, and by the sallies of his
wit, surprised and fascinated his hearers. The stage happening to be
mentioned, and Mrs. Siddons in Belvidera called from our youth the
pathos of genius so irresistibly impressive, that glistening eyes
and moistened cheeks of the fair auditors bore unequivocal testimony
to the softness of their sensibility. Far transcending all the female
guests, in the vigour of her imagination, and the tenderness of her
heart, Maria, by the action and reaction of fancy and of feeling,
was more enchanted and affected by the descriptions and exhibitions
of our hero, than any of her companions. She saw how exquisitely his
countenance corresponded with the varying subject; and, indeed, though
she did not see it, her own was in changing unison. The members of the
party were so extremely pleased with each other, that the dawning morn
was the first intimation that midnight was passed. Late as it was,
and though William had not been in bed the preceding night, yet he
lay awake, meditating on love and Maria, and wholly bent on winning
the affections of so charming a fair. In the tumultuous eagerness
of passion, reason did not altogether neglect one of her favourite
votaries, but asked, to what end could he indulge his affection?
was his situation in life such as to justify so early a marriage,
deserving as the young lady might be? would not it be prudent to
defer his advances until he had made greater progress in the destined
pursuits of life?--Honour and humanity said, “Do not irretrievably
engage the heart of this lovely and interesting young woman, before
you are assured that no impediments may retard, or obstacles obstruct
gratification.” To these monitors the ingenuity of love answered,
“That instead of opposing he would satisfy them all.” He was conscious
that he possessed talents, erudition, and literary powers, which, if
steadily and uniformly exerted, would procure him an income sufficient
for real happiness; that Maria would stimulate exertion; and that so
inspired he would probably be greater and richer than if acting without
any such motive; but, at least, he would be happier. At length he was
overpowered by sleep, and was in a dream caressing the object of his
waking thoughts, when his jolly host entering his apartment roused him
to breakfast, that, according to an appointment on the former evening,
they might take a ride over his farm and estate.--“I suppose, my young
friend, you are like John, therefore I need not offer you a tankard for
your morning draught.” Hamilton acknowledged the resemblance in that
part of their taste, and the squire left him, and, while he equipped
himself, went to pay his compliments to the other guests. Having left
his room, he was preparing to descend to the parlour, whence he heard
the cheerful voice of his host; when a door opening into the landing
place, Maria unexpectedly presented herself to his enraptured view.--He
thought her somewhat pale, and inquired after her health, not as a
compliment, but as one whose whole soul was concentrated in its object.
She answered him with sweetness, but still attempted indifference. He
softly took hold of her hand, and earnestly requested one moment’s
conversation. Confounded by his address, she at first stood still,
but recollecting herself, gently withdrew her hand, saying, she must
descend to the breakfast-room. The allegation of reason sounding so
like an apology for departure, delighted our hero, who confidently
expected ere long he might have the opportunity which he wished. Most
of the morning was occupied in viewing the farms of the squire and his
tenants. His own demesnes evinced the skill and ability of the farmer
and gardener, that happily mingled utility with pleasure; in whose
plans, culture was the groundwork, while decoration was the edging and
interspersion, in which productiveness, the primary object, did not
preclude delight. The fields, husbandry, houses, dress, and persons of
his tenants, evinced the industrious and thriving farmers of Yorkshire.
The rest of the visitors were now departed, and Hamilton was the only
guest. They returned to dinner. The squire, convivial from sociability,
but not intemperate from habit, promoted neither by precept nor by
example the absorption of any more liquor than suited the tastes
of his company. After a cheerful but moderate glass, the gentlemen
joined Maria in the garden. Young Mortimer was soon after summoned
to Northallerton, on some business which would require about half
an hour’s attendance, and the squire was a little after obliged to
give audience to one of his tenants; so that now there remained only
our hero and the object of his adoration. The reader will not doubt
that Hamilton embraced so favourable an opportunity of unfolding his
sentiments, which he did with mingled ardour, tenderness, and delicacy.
The young lady heard him with agitation, but an agitation that appeared
to arise more from apprehension than from anger. Educated with the
strictest sense of decorum and propriety, as well as modesty, she
thought she was wrong in listening to him; but his deportment was so
respectful, engaging, and persuasive, that though she once or twice
attempted it, she was unable to chide him for so hasty a declaration,
or even abruptly to leave him and retire. She, in a very low voice
and faltering accents, requested him not to talk on such a subject
to her; they were almost strangers to one another; it was impossible
he could know so much of her mind and dispositions as to justify the
preference which he professed; though accident had left them alone at
this time, she would take care to prevent the recurrence of such a
situation; at least, unless he promised to desist in future from such a
topic. Hamilton declared his resolution to open his sentiments to his
friend John, and she was deprecating the application, when her father
rejoining them, interrupted their discourse.
The following day a hunting party prevented the intended explanation
in the morning; and when they returned to dinner, a neighbouring
gentleman, who invited himself to Oak Grove, was of the party. This was
squire Blossom, whose father, a very great farmer near Richmond, had
acquired a considerable property by speculating in corn and cattle,
and by horse-dealing; and his fortune being more than doubled by the
death of a brother, an opulent manufacturer: a short time before he had
died, leaving to this his only child, an estate of two thousand pounds
a year. This youth having been intended by his father for following his
own footsteps, had received little education, except so far as related
to rearing horses, and disposing of them to the best advantage. In this
last branch he, though only six and twenty, had already attained such
skill that he could over-reach colonel O’Blackleg himself, and was
fast adding to his fortune. He, like his father, was also a skilful
corn-dealer and grazier. Acquing his money with great ease, though not
liberal to other persons, he was not sparing in what ministered to
his own pleasures; being a fresh-coloured strapping fellow, he was a
successful gallant in the country; and young as he was, was a kind of
a patriarch. This person having neither birth, abilities, or any other
source of distinction but his riches and his vices, considered money
as the first constituent of eminence, and next to that the deception
of female credulity. Blossom had frequently seen Maria Mortimer, and
though without taste, feeling, or comprehension to do justice to many
of her charms, yet from sentiments purely animal, he regarded her as
a very desirable object. The fortune of Mr. Mortimer he well knew was
considerably inferior to his own, and as he had several children, the
portion of his daughters could not be great. He himself was determined
not to marry but merely as a matter of convenience, and had in his eye
the only child of an opulent button-maker of Sheffield. This fellow
had the presumptuous wickedness to conceive dishonourable intentions
towards the virtuous and elevated Maria. But, though not without
courage in rencounters of wrestling, cudgel-playing, or boxing, he
was no friend to sword and pistol, which he well knew such an attempt
would immediately raise against him from Maria’s brother, who was
brave, intrepid, and high spirited. Knowing, however, that John was
soon to leave the country, he determined to execute his nefarious
design, when its object should, he conceived, be less guarded. He
therefore had often visited Oak Grove. The father and brother, though
they had no suspicion of his real designs, yet did not much approve
of his attention to Maria, and were not so sordid as to desire, for
the sake of mere fortune, that she should sacrifice herself to a man
whom she did and must despise. Maria, from whom he had not completely
concealed his real design, regarded him with contempt and indignation;
but her fear of involving in a quarrel that might prove fatal to those
whom she most dearly loved, prevented her from explanations. In such
circumstances all that she could do was to avoid his company as much as
possible, and when in it to treat him with chilling coldness.--Blossom,
who considered his own face and figure as irresistible, imputed this
behaviour to artifice and coquetry, and persisted in his scheme.
Accordingly, having met with the father and son, he offered them his
company, intending to return the hospitality of the family by ruining
the daughter. As Blossom and the old gentleman were riding before, John
in a few words communicated the heads of his character;--that he was a
rich blockhead of a profligate horse-jockey; that he hated his company
and conversation, as he was ignorant, impudent, and gross; but that the
reception of such fellows was in the country a sacrifice, which must
be frequently made to social neighbourhood. Maria was dressed that day
with an elegant simplicity, that rendered her irresistibly bewitching.
Blossom and Hamilton, different as they were in their sentiments and
views, both agreed in being more than ever fired by her charms. Our
hero could have instantly married her, to have such corporeal and
mental attractions his own; and Blossom would have almost encountered
any risk to perpetrate his purpose. He easily saw the fondness of
Hamilton, but estimated its nature and object by the grossness and
depravity of his own mind. Hamilton, he could not help perceiving,
was extremely handsome, and as such might doubtless procure a rich
match; he, therefore, could, in Blossom’s opinion, only pursue Maria
as a mistress. He could not avoid observing, that Miss Mortimer
treated Hamilton with much more complacency than himself. Rivalry and
resentment added fresh incentives, and he resolved, cost what it would,
to snatch from the stranger so delicious a morsel. Having, both during
dinner and after, indulged freely in the bottle, his passion was more
and more inflamed, though somewhat dissipated by long and boasting
narratives of his own amours. In the drawing-room he became excessively
troublesome, and, in the temerity of insolent brutality, conceiving
himself not observed by the gentlemen, offered the young lady a gross
affront. The eyes of the virtuous and delicate Maria flashed fire. She
threw in his face the scalding teapot, and forgetting all her caution,
called to her brother to come to turn the fellow out of the house.
John hastily seized the offender, who smarting with pain, maddened
with liquor and with anger, began to pour out the abuse of enraged
vulgarity, calling, he was richer than them all put together. Here’s
a fuss, because----, and he stated the offence. John returned this
speech by a blow, which levelled Blossom with the ground; and after he
recovered, seizing him, and being superior in strength, dragged him
to the door, and thrust him out of the house. Blossom, enraged and
bloody, hastened to the inn at Northallerton, thence wrote a defiance,
conceived in the grossest terms of abuse, avowing his design, and
swearing that it should be effected. Mortimer having read this letter,
declared his resolution to meet the fellow immediately. His father and
sister eagerly beseeched him to disregard a challenge from such a
man. John, however, hastily ran out, followed by his father; and was
immediately after heard above stairs in his own room. Hamilton was
following him, when Maria, afraid he was going to accompany him as his
second, eagerly grasped his arm, and prayed he would hear her for one
minute. “One minute, my lovely Maria! for my life and for ever.” “O my
dear sir,” she proceeded, “prevent my brother from exposing himself,
perhaps, to death: it is all my rashness and precipitancy. I shall be
the murderer of my kind, accomplished, and beloved brother. I shall
deprive my father of his darling son, and bring his grey hairs with
sorrow to the grave. Do, Mr. Hamilton, prevent this calamity, and
you will merit my eternal gratitude.” Hamilton told her, that he had
just formed a scheme, which he trusted would prevent the extremities
she apprehended. He went to his friend, whom he found vehemently
contending with his father, that he must meet and chastise the villain.
“My dear friend,” interrupted our hero, “do you believe me a man of
honour, or that I would suffer an insult to pass without a punishment
adequate to the subject and object?” “I know you would not.” “Do you
think I would accept a challenge from a footman?” “Unquestionably not.”
“Or from any one not a gentleman?” “Certainly not.” “Can you think
the writer of this letter entitled to the treatment of a gentleman?”
“Not by conduct; but by his situation in life, and the estimation of
society.” “His situation in life is nothing to us,” replied our hero,
“and if you will follow my advice, you will satisfy society, even that
part of it that supports the factitious honour of duelling, and punish
the fellow without degrading yourself, a gentleman, to the low level
of a brutal clown.” William accordingly explained his proposition;
that John should write an answer, declaring “that he would not admit
a man of such behaviour to the privilege of a gentleman; but that he
would personally chastise him, and would not suffer him to appear in
any public meeting, until he had publicly asked pardon for his infamous
behaviour.”--John at last agreed to this expedient, and also to defer
the answer till the following morning, when Blossom might have had time
to cool and reflect on the exact predicament in which he stood.--Maria
and her father regarded our hero with the most delighted gratitude, and
the remainder of the evening passed in tranquillity.
Early in the morning Hamilton betook himself in quest of the
esquire.--Blossom, being informed that a gentleman from young Mr.
Mortimer desired to see him, was very little pleased with the message.
His courage had in a great degree flowed from the wine which he drank,
and as the fumes were now in a considerable degree evaporated, part
of the valour had also _oozed_ away. To give it time to return, or
to deliberate how it might be unnecessary, he proposed to defer the
interview about two hours. Our hero returned at the appointed time,
and was introduced to the apartment of Blossom, whom he found sitting
with a bandage round his head, which, however, did not so completely
cover his face as to prevent it from exhibiting impudence contending
with shame and fear. He received Hamilton civilly, and then in a
blustering tone proceeded to exclaim against young Mortimer. Hamilton
cut him short by telling him, his business was merely to deliver him a
letter, and, according to the reply, to add a subsidiary message. The
esquire having read the letter; “And so,” says he, “master Mortimer
refuses the challenge?” “But,” says Hamilton, “he states his reasons
and determination.”--“Pretty reasons: cowardice; don’t you think
so, Clump?” turning to his groom, who had continued in the room.
“Before,” said our hero, “Mr. Clump has the trouble of delivering his
sentiments, I have to ask simply, Will you apologize in the required
manner?” “I’ll be d--d if I do.” “That’s right,” said the groom, “don’t
be _timbersome_.” “Then I have farther to inform you, that Mr. John
Mortimer will, in half an hour, be in the public room, in this inn,
to cane you, if you dare appear there; and that he will repeat the
same discipline in every public place where you dare appear, to teach
you the manners befitting such a person as you, if admitted into the
company of ladies and gentlemen.” Having delivered this embassy, our
hero departed. Blossom having shut the door assumed a very valiant
face, and said to Clump, “Did you ever hear so insolent a fellow as
this messenger? Hamilton they call him: it was with difficulty I could
keep my passion. Did not you remark how red and angry my face looked?”
“No, I thought it was rather pale, please your honour, and whitish
as it were.” “But did not you see me even trembling with rage?” “O
yes, when he spoke about the cane in the public room, your honour
did tremble.” “I think I will run after him yet,” said the esquire,
clapping himself on a chair, “to teach him to talk so to a man of my
consequence: but now that I think of it, I cannot well go out as my
head is tied up. I believe it will be as well to avoid the cold and
keep quiet to-day, Clump; I shall not go down stairs.”--Clump, who was
his master’s chief confident, and was a sharp fellow, did not fail to
perceive the real motive; but professed to acquiesce in the ostensible.
Some time afterwards as the esquire was declaring his ardent desire of
having an opportunity of chastising both Mortimer and Hamilton, Clump
standing at the window, informed him that an opportunity was arrived,
for they both were entering the house. “I will go down, don’t say a
word against it, Clump.” “I, please your honour, I am saying nothing
against it.” “However you may go down first, to see what is going
on.”--Clump in a few minutes returned, bearing in his hand a paper to
the following effect:--
“Whereas, a peasant and clown named Bartholomew Blossom, cow-keeper
and horse-jocky, of Docktail-Place, near Richmond, impudently and
falsely calling himself a gentleman, did audaciously, in a vulgar and
ribaldrous letter, send me a challenge. I hereby declare, that I will
not accept a challenge from the said Bartholomew Blossom, peasant and
clown as aforesaid; but I come prepared to chastise the presumptuous
insolence of the fellow, by caning him in the public room, or streets
of Northallerton, or wherever else I may have the good fortune to find
him. At the same time believing him to be a poltroon and a coward, I
shall forbear beating him if he confines himself to the kitchen or
stables, without arrogating to himself the privilege of making one of a
company of gentlemen.
_August 29._ 1789. JOHN MORTIMER.”
Blossom having perused this paper, declared his resolution of
inflicting a most severe vengeance on the traducer of his honour,
but thought it would be wisest to suspend the execution of his
valourous projects, till after his recovery.--The wound which had
thus respited the courage of Mr. Blossom, in the course of the
evening so quickly healed, that though it rained hard, he set off
in the dark for Docktail-place. There he consulted an attorney,
who not without thoughts of _six and eightpence often repeated_,
strongly urged a prosecution for assault, battery, and wounding; and
not doubting but in such a case the adversary would prosecute for a
challenge; he hoped on the one hand “Bartholomew Blossom, esquire,
of Docktail-place, in the parish of Richmond, in the North Riding of
the county of York, plaintiff; and John Mortimer, esquire, younger,
of Oak Grove, in the parish of Northallerton, in the aforesaid North
Riding, of the aforesaid county of York, defendant; and on the other
hand, John Mortimer, esquire, younger, of Oak Grove, in the parish of
Northallerton, in the North Riding of the county of York, plaintiff,
and Bartholomew Blossom, esquire, of Docktail-place, in the parish
of Richmond aforesaid, in the North Riding of the aforesaid county
of York, defendant, carried through all the process of declarations,
replies, rejoinders, and demurs, and abundantly interspersed with the
vacation after Trinity term, being on the 29th day of August, in the
year of our Lord 1789, and in the reign of our Sovereign Lord George
the Third, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, Defender of
the Faith, and Arch Treasurer of the Holy Roman Empire,” would help
materially to fill paper and swell the bill. Besides Hamilton could
be introduced as “comforting, aiding, and abetting the said John
Mortimer, &c.” Blossom himself was averse to this counsel, and appeared
disposed to confine his views to having Mortimer bound over to the
peace.--The lawyer strongly urged the contrary, but in vain. Finding
he could not succeed in bringing on cross actions, he determined to
suit himself to the humour of his client, and advised the following
expedient for keeping the peace and preserving the esquire’s honour:
Blossom was to send a thundering defiance to Mortimer, offering to meet
him at Northallerton, and threatening, if he would not fight, to cudgel
him unmercifully. The attorney was to communicate these bloody minded
intentions to a friend, this friend was to alarm the mayor, and both
parties were to be bound over to keep the peace. A captain of Militia
delivered this menacing message to Mortimer. Hamilton and he attended,
met the redoubtable champion in the public room; and knowing there
was help at hand, Blossom both looked and talked very big: Mortimer
immediately proceeded to action; but the magistrate and his attendants
rushing in prevented mischief. The parties were bound over, and thus
the matter terminated.
Meanwhile our hero was becoming every day more fondly enamoured of
his charming Maria. The young lady also on her part the more she
knew Hamilton the more she admired and esteemed his talents and
dispositions. His successful interference preventing the catastrophe,
which her susceptible imagination had apprehended, enhanced her regard.
She had promised him her lasting gratitude; nor was she disposed to
violate such an engagement. She now was not only pleased, but visibly
delighted with his company and conversation.--Besides that range of
genius, extent of knowledge, and happy power of communication, which
must render him, Maria thought, respected and admired in public life,
he seemed to her to have those just moral principles, virtues, and
refined sentiments, which constitute, at once, the use and pleasure
of domestic life. But thinking so favourably of him, and feeling so
kindly to him, she cautiously forbore an acknowledgment of mutual
affection. She observed, that in his ideas he was lofty and aspiring,
and apprehending that whatever love might now dictate, ambition might
hereafter prompt views and connexions more conducive to aggrandizement.
She, therefore, not only refused his immediate offers, but would admit
of no promises or engagements: that if at any future time interest or
inclination might induce him to desire a change, there might be no
restraint upon him from justice and honour. Hamilton communicated his
passion to his friend John, but not thereby any intelligence which he
had not discovered before. Mortimer told him, that there was no man
whom he thought, in character and conduct, so worthy of his dear Maria,
and that their respective ranks were equal; that to such a woman as
Maria, he was confident Hamilton would make an affectionate and devoted
husband, and to such a man as Hamilton, Maria would make a tender,
fond, and interesting wife. “But, my dear friend, (he continued) there
are at present strong objections. You have ability, erudition, and
eloquence; you are breeding to a profession in which, with prudence,
you may rise to be at the head; after giving law to the bar, you may
instruct and delight the senate; inform and direct the cabinet: these
are all attainments within the reach of William Hamilton: and farther
they are within his wish and view. You are ambitious and aspiring,
but seeking the pinnacle, you ought not, having so steep an ascent
to climb, to burden yourself so near the bottom, with the cares of a
family. Your own fortune though sufficient for your support, until
your exertions bring fame and emolument, yet is inadequate to the
maintenance of an increasing family, in the style to which both you and
my sister are accustomed, and before your efforts, by establishing your
reputation, had insured your success, embarrassments might commence,
which breaking your spirits might damp the ardour of your genius,
enfeeble the energy of eloquence and make a man of so transcendant
powers, surpassed in his professions by plodding mediocrity. My dear
Hamilton, I revere you, and by my affection and admiration I conjure
you, at least, for the present, to make no overtures of the kind. Be
called to the bar, be engaged in some cause which will make you known,
and lay the foundation of eminence and opulence. Be once established,
and if you continue your love to Maria, I shall most eagerly promote
a connection that will contribute to her honour and happiness.”
“Happiness, did you say,” cried our hero eagerly, “have you, my dear
Mortimer, any idea that your sister is favourably disposed.” John aware
that an answer in the affirmative would by no means conduce to his
scheme of postponing the subject, evaded a direct answer, but said,
“In cases where there is not certainty we must draw inferences from
probability. Without flattering you, I must say, that the manifest
affection of such a youth as my friend Hamilton is likely to impress
any woman of sensibility that should be unengaged. I have no doubt
that Maria possesses sensibility, and I firmly believe that when you
and she became acquainted she was unengaged; but I am convinced, that
though she should love you, both her reason and strength of mind would
refuse an affiance, which the sincerest and best judging friends of
both must see would be, at present, indiscreet.” Hamilton could not
avoid seeing the sense and candour of his friend’s opinions, and as
the time was approaching at which he was obliged to go south, Mortimer
hoped by absence to prevent the immediate contraction of so premature
an engagement. He knew that during the rest of the autumn he was to
be at Brighton and its environs; and that in winter he was occupied
by professional preparations and literary exertions, and hoped that,
while on the one hand the affiance was suspended, on the other great
advances would be made towards its conclusion with prudence and
propriety. He had frequent conferences with his sister, in which, by
addressing himself to her understanding and elevated sentiments, he
endeavoured to persuade her to refuse every proffer for an immediate or
early marriage. Maria perceived that her brother was well acquainted
with the state of her mind; and did not affect either ignorance of
his meaning, or indifference to its subject; she candidly owned that
her opinion of Mr. Hamilton was very high, but denied that her heart
was irretrievably engaged; having before formed the resolution he
desired, she readily and strongly promised adherence. Hamilton had
already outstayed his time, until a letter from his mother earnestly
requested that he would come speedily to town, to join and direct the
autumnal excursion, and he had taken his place for the metropolis for
the next day but one, which was to be on a Monday.--Saturday evening
he was pensive and sad, and Maria was not joyful; both her brother and
lover observed in her countenance and voice the softness of sorrow,
while a forced cheerfulness concealed her emotions from her father.
Having in the stillness and solitude of a night uninterrupted by sleep,
given full vent to her tenderness, she was at the usual hour in the
breakfast room, exhibiting marks of increasing dejection, which even
her father must have discovered. Our hero directed to her the touching
melancholy of his countenance; and she was almost overcome, when her
father entering with an open letter, gave it to his daughter, saying,
“Read that, my girl: by Jupiter it will be a merry year this; two
jaunts in one summer.” “Two jaunts,” said his son. “Yes, your uncle
Benjamin, instead of wintering in the West Indies as we thought, is
come to Portsmouth with his ship, and begs that we may meet him next
week in London, to go down with him to his box on the coast of Sussex.”
“On the coast of Sussex!” said Hamilton, eagerly. “Yes, near Worthing,
ten miles from Brighton, in the slope of the Downs; a sweet little
place it is; he sends Maria there a draft of a hundred pounds, for
crincum crancums, as he calls it, for herself, and not forgetting her
sisters at school. So Moll, we shall be new-rigged.” Maria’s face now
testified joy and animation, which she in vain endeavoured to conceal
or even to moderate. These movements her father observing, turned to
the young gentlemen, and facetiously remarked the wonderful effects
of dress and finery upon young women. His son said he was assured
the hope of seeing their beloved uncle made _one_ part of the cause
of her joy, though not the _sole_, he whispered to his sister. “Ah,”
said the squire, “brother Ben has a rough face and manner, but he has
a kind heart.” Hamilton with the utmost delight observed the change
which this unexpected intelligence effected on Maria, and interpreted
it in nearly the same manner as John had insinuated. He expressed
great pleasure in the happiness he would have in making his hospitable
friends of Oak-Grove acquainted with the family party that he was going
to join. Elated with the assurance of so soon again beholding his
lovely Maria, he departed at the appointed time, and arrived in London
without any material occurrence. The laird of Etterick, his daughter,
and son-in-law were also now arrived, and lodged at an hotel in the
neighbourhood of Mrs. Hamilton. The laird being alone with his nephew,
expressed himself well satisfied with the behaviour of his son-in-law
since William left Scotland. He was very respectful and attentive,
and had hitherto shewn no disposition to return to his former habits,
either of profligacy or preaching. William finding on enquiry that his
cousin had seen but very little of London, proposed that, before they
went to Brighton, they should spend a week in viewing the metropolis
and its environs, and succeeded. They made exursions to Windsor,
Hampton-court, Richmond, and other places.--One day Miss Hamilton had
gone to the hotel to make an arrangement for a party to one of the
theatres, and passing through a gallery, met a young lady, who, after
regarding her very attentively, blushed, curtsied, and was passing
along. An elderly gentleman came immediately after, who having looked
earnestly in Charlotte’s face said, “I ask your pardon, miss; is your
name Hamilton?”--“Yes, sir,” said she, surprised, “but I have not the
pleasure of recollecting you.” “I dare say not,” said the gentleman,
“for you never saw me in your life, nor I you, miss. But, Molly, did
you ever see so striking a likeness? She’s his very image, is not she?”
“Extremely like, indeed,” replied Maria.--“Have you not a brother named
William?” said the old gentleman. “Yes, sir. I dare say, sir, you must
be Mr. Mortimer.” “Very well guessed,” said the old gentleman, going
down stairs to give some orders. Miss Hamilton, addressing the young
lady, said. “I know you must be Miss Mortimer, you so exactly answer
William’s description.” At this remark Maria blushed; they returned
together, and being predisposed to mutual kindness, the one towards a
young lady whom she had discovered, from the letters and confidential
communications of her beloved brother, to be the object of his fond
attachment: the other towards the sister and softened picture of a man
whose love she felt that she requited, they in a quarter of an hour
ceased to consider one another as strangers. The old gentleman now
returned with his son, who had been to call for his friend William, had
not found him at home, but seen his mother, and accepted an invitation
to dine at Hatton Garden, and promised to prevail on his father and
sister to be of the party, but found his embassy anticipated by Miss
Hamilton. They were all met except William, and the hostess knowing he
had some business to transact which might detain him beyond the dining
hour, ordered dinner. They were just seated, and by some accident,
Maria Mortimer occupied the place nearest the bottom of the table,
and facing the door, when Hamilton hastily knocking and entering the
room, the first object he beheld was his beloved Maria. Having with
an anxious earnestness and confused eagerness of manner, voice, and
countenance accosted Miss Mortimer, and with affectionate kindness her
father and brother, he learned the meeting at the hotel, and had the
satisfaction to see that his sister and mother were delighted with the
object of his adoration. It was resolved to defer the theatre party
till the following evening; and the day was spent with great pleasure
and happiness.
Our hero had been so much engrossed by either the company or image
of Maria, that he had almost entirely forgotten his old flame, Jenny
Collings.--Though Jenny had not forgotten him; yet finding his absence
very tedious, she began to listen to the addresses of another. This
other, it seems, was that redoubtable champion esquire Blossom, who
being frequently in London, had seen Miss Collings before his late
adventure with Mortimer, and afterwards choosing to change the scene
a little had come to London, and renewed his application, in hopes
of seducing the virtue of the fair Collings. He had succeeded, and
had lived with her about a week, when one morning a gentleman was
introduced in a naval uniform, who, in rather a stern voice and manner
demanded to see Miss Collings. Blossom told him, that there was no
such person in the house; the officer answered, “That is false, I know
she is here; I saw her at the window.--Your name is Blossom; you have
seduced my sister, and if you do not marry her instantly, this moment
is your last.”--With that he pulled out a brace of pistols. Jenny being
well tutored for the purpose, ran out with her hair disshevelled, and
throwing herself at her brother’s feet, conjured him not to murder
her betrothed husband. “Are you this lady’s husband?” Blossom made
no answer: the lady answered, “He is in conscience and honour, but I
acknowledge not in law.” Blossom, afraid of the pistols, which were
presented and cocked, resolved to temporize that he might get away, and
accordingly acknowledged that he had promised marriage, and that he was
willing and ready to perform his engagement. That, said the seaman,
alters the case, though I still must blame my sister’s simplicity and
credulity; yet, as I find you disposed to make an honourable atonement,
I shall bury the past in oblivion. There are two friends of mine
without who will witness your proposal of amends. The friends were
called in, the brother agreed in their presence to pardon Blossom, if
he immediately performed the engagement which he had admitted. “I am,
(he said,) obliged to be out of town to-morrow afternoon, therefore
we must finish the calls of honour and justice immediately. There is
a coach in waiting, let us now, Mr. Blossom, go to Doctors’ Commons
and procure a licence for to-morrow morning.” Blossom demurred at
this proposal, but the stern and peremptory conduct of the brother
over-ruled his objections. He accompanied Collings and his companions,
the licence was obtained, the brother did not lose sight of the
bridegroom; the next day the nuptials were solemnized, and the
new-married couple set off for Docktail-Place. Before their departure,
the lady being informed that our hero was returned, wrote the following
epistle to our hero:
“My beloved Hamilton,
Finding that you are become totally indifferent to your Collings, I
have, contrary to my own inclination, listened to the advices of my
friends, and accepted the addresses of another. I am now the wife
of Bartholomew Blossom, esquire, of Yorkshire, a gentleman of great
fortune and merit. As my affection for you and its consequences have
been concealed from most others, I have that confidence in your honour,
that I am assured no passage will ever escape your lips that can affect
the tranquillity of your affectionate and devoted
JANE BLOSSOM.”
“P.S. Though I have made a sort of vow to myself for ever to abstain
from your enchanting and dangerous company, I should wish to see you
once to convince you, that though prudence and the instances of my
brother induce me to accept of Mr. Blossom’s hand, my heart will ever
remain fondly attached to the first dear object of its virgin love.
J. B.”
This letter afforded our hero very great pleasure. He had formed a
resolution of relinquishing all intercourse with Miss Collings, but
determined to use every effort that might be in his power, in order
to promote the interest and advantage of one who had suffered so much
from her attachment to himself. Now her situation in point of rank
and opulence was much higher, through the vice and folly of another,
than any which she could have expected to have attained. He could have
regretted the deception or compulsion, if it had been practised upon
a man of honour and worth. But in the present case he was extremely
well pleased, that a profligate, unprincipled debauchee, who had so
behaved himself to his beloved Maria, was caught where he had proposed
seduction and ruin.
Meanwhile, the party set off for the coast of Sussex; the fair Maria,
with her father and brother, betook themselves to the vicinity of
Worthing, while Hamilton, his mother, and the rest of their party, took
up their residence at Brighton.
Our hero, much as he had been engaged, had still found opportunities
of meeting Dr. Strongbrain, who exacted a promise from him, of sending
him a written account of Brighton and its environs, according to the
impression it made upon him at the time. Our hero was as good as his
word, and wrote a description of this celebrated watering-place, which
the reader will find in the following chapter.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
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FOOTNOTES:
[1] See Parson Trulliber and his _flock_, in Joseph Andrews.
[2] See Miss Prue’s Letter in the Bath Guide, and Mr. Polwhele’s Note.
[3] See Hume’s History of Oliver Cromwell, vol. vii.
[4] Equivalent to bailiffs, in England.
Corrections.
The first line indicates the original, the second the correction.
p. x
to the public, from former experience of misinterpration,
to the public, from former experience of misinterpretation,
p. 76
Miss Sourkout, the dealer,
Miss Sourkrout, the dealer,
p. 88
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
p. 105
daughter of a mayor or the laird of Ettrick
daughter of a mayor or the laird of Etterick
p. 166
She wrote her mother an acacount
She wrote her mother an account
p. 289
bear-in his hand a paper
bearing in his hand a paper
p. 296
these are all attaiments within the reach
these are all attainments within the reach
Errata
The first line indicates the original, the second how it should read.
p. 258
At this question, Maria bushed,
At this question, Maria blushed,