Both madam and miss were arouzed. A triumph over the daughter of Wentbridge, who was the wife of a younger brother of the squire, was not the least consideration with either. No beauty that mantua-makers or milliners could bestow on so short a notice was spared. When the company met, the laird having learned which was Miss Sourkrout, after taking something of a circuit round the room, came to miss, and very respectfully requested the honour of her being his partner in a country dance, when they should begin. Miss most graciously complied, and, though fond of exhibiting herself in a minuet, forbore for the present that gratification. He, meanwhile, entered into conversation with both miss and her mother. He soon took a great fancy to the sagacity of the old lady, and the ingenuity of the young one. At length, the time for their dance arrived, and a couple exhibited themselves, which attracted the eyes of the company more than any that appeared that evening.—The gentleman extremely lank, with high cheek-bones, a lean visage, the solemn seriousness of aspect which so often distinguishes our northern countrymen, opposed the lady, squab, fat, and blowsy, flirting and simpering; he with narrow shoulders, and a flat chest; she with back broad and brawny, chest large, deep, and capacious. The swain moved in the attitude of a trotting dromedary, so useful to Arabs; the nymph like a quadruped which, though little relished by Jews, is not without value among Christians, and if we may believe Fielding, had even occupied the chief care of a christian pastor[1]. As both had laboured extremely hard, they were very happy when the rules of the assembly suffered them to have rest. The mother most politely thanked the laird for his attention to Grizzle, to which he answered, after much consideration, that he thought it the duty of a gentleman to be polite to ladies: that was a maxim that, he said, had been very early impressed upon him by his worthy grand-mother, to whom, he observed, he was chiefly indebted for his education; having, while his brother went to school, been brought up under the old lady’s own eye. Mrs. Sourkrout proposed, as they appeared heated with dancing, to take to a rubber, saying, “she doubted not that a gentleman of his appearance could play at whist.” “O yes,” replied he, “that was one of my grand-mama’s chief lessons; from the time I was twelve year old, till I was past twenty, we spent almost every evening in that pastime, and while my mother lived, and my sisters were at home, we long after kept in the same course: but since I am an orphan and lonesome, I send for my foreman, and take a hit at backgammon. But I should like a rubber very much.” A party was accordingly formed. Mr. Hamilton and the fair nymph were partners. Their opponents had won a double, were nine to four of the second, and had turned up the king; three tricks were gained before the laird and his partner had got one. Miss Sourkrout, the dealer, with the king guarded, had two aces, from which she reasonably entertained sanguine hopes of a bumper. Miss having the queen, knave of trumps, and a long suit; after taking a trick, shewed a suit; with profound skill discontinued it, to play through the honour; at the second round drove the king prisoner into the hands of her partner’s victorious ace. Her right-hand adversary’s ten fell by the same fatal blow, the laird’s nine and eight exhausted all the enemy’s trumps, and left his three lord of the board. Now did the comprehensive wisdom of the laird, having before its view every trick, return his partner’s suit; the lady made two more, one only remained the destined victim of the corps de reserve, and thus secured the victory. A single hand determined the next game in favour of the laird and miss. Mr. Hamilton considered the rubber as won by miss’s dexterity, which raised her very high in his estimation. He with much gravity remarked, “that it was a very providential circumstance, that she thought of playing through the honour.”
The major and his lady observed their brother’s attention to Miss Sourkrout, but thinking it accidental, regarded it with unconcern. The next morning the laird went to pay the lady a visit, and was very graciously received.
A few days after, taking an opportunity of being alone with the major, he turned the discourse upon Miss Sourkrout, with a very particular detail of her cash and moveables, according to the information which he had received from his acquaintance the attorney. The major strongly dissuaded his brother from attempting any such connection; but as in his dissuasives he said nothing to the disparagement of her fortune, he made little impression.
The laird visited and revisited the fair object of his pursuit, and as she and her mamma had taken care to be well informed concerning his circumstances, he was received with kindness, manifesting itself the more openly at every succeeding interview. A few weeks concluded the negotiation, and after a decent sacrifice to coyness and decorum, the esquire was blessed with all the happiness that the lawful possession of miss’s charms, such as they were, could bestow. The senior and junior relations of mayoral dignity soon after set out with the esquire for the house of Etterick.
Major Hamilton, meanwhile, after having spent the destined time in Yorkshire, rejoined his regiment, then quartered at Berwick and adjacent towns.—The remainder of the summer and the following winter he and his lady passed in the county of Northumberland. The time now approaching, that was to render her a mother, Eliza anxiously wished to repair to the vicarage. The major, procuring a short leave of absence, accompanied her thither, and soon after (March 22d, 1765,) she presented him with a son and heir. In due time the infant was christened by a neighbouring clergyman, whilst his grand-father, being sponsor, gave to him his own name of William. Mrs. Hamilton having resolved not to delegate to another the duty which she found herself able to discharge, it was agreed that the vicarage should continue to be her chief residence, while she suckled little William; and as the regiment was now removed to York, that the major should spend, at Brotherton, all the time that he could spare from professional duty. As these visits, depending in some degree on contingences, were neither fixed as to time, nor certain as to duration, they enhanced the impassioned affection with which the husband and wife regarded each other, and their little boy. Whilst the mother, in the father’s absence, traced his beloved features in the son, she could not help reflecting, that the cause of their frequent separation was the performance of duties that might tear them much farther and longer asunder; carrying her fancy to events not improbable, she often dwelt with anxious tenderness on the likelihood there was that Hamilton might be ordered abroad. Peace, it was true, did not at present seem about to be soon broken, but discontents already manifested themselves in America, and might become more serious; should troops be requisite to support the authority of government, no regiment, she thought, was more likely to be selected than that of which her adored husband was a member.—These considerations tinged the love of Eliza with a pensive softness, that rendered her more peculiarly interesting. Her father, who divined the cause of her uneasiness, assured her, that should any circumstance call his esteemed and valued son-in-law to a distant land, William should be his care, and that no pains or expence, which an income, though moderate not scanty, could afford, should be wanting to give him an education becoming a gentleman and a scholar. The forebodings of Mrs. Hamilton for several years proved unfounded. After William was of sufficient age and strength to allow her absence, she accompanied her husband to the regimental quarters, which, though they frequently shifted, were never farther removed than Liverpool, Chester, Shrewsbury, or some other town within a hundred miles of her father and her son.
Before William had reached the second year of his age she had brought him a brother, and soon after he attained his third she produced another boy. Young William by this time was a strong, active, sprightly little fellow, and the chief favourite of his grand-father, who looked on him as a kind of phenomenon, and though only in his fourth year, began to teach him the first rudiments of literature.
Having about a year before risen to be lieutenant-colonel of his regiment, Hamilton had so closely attended to the troops that he procured a leave of absence for six months, which he, with his lady, spent with the vicar, and in vigilantly watching the opening understanding and heart of their eldest son; and from the acuteness of his remarks, quickness and retentiveness of his memory, and readiness of his ingenuity, together with the affectionate kindness of his disposition, all seen through the exaggerating medium of parental partiality, regarded him as a surprizing instance of intelligence and goodness. Affection, however, did not so much blind discernment as to prevent them from discovering that his temper was irritable and fiery, that under the impulse of anger he would very readily do mischief, though he soon repented; and they strongly represented to the vicar this defect in the child, and he promised his efforts to its correction. Hamilton now rejoined his regiment, which was ordered to the south of England, and did not for the two following years after find leisure to revisit his son. William, during this interval, made quick proficiency under his grand-father; at six years old began his accidence, and at seven had made no small progress in Corderius. Besides the old vicar he had another preceptor, who as anxiously superintended the efforts of his bodily strength, as his grand-father his mental improvement. This was sergeant Maxwell, who instructed him in boxing and cricket, as he had himself learned them in his youth, from Hampshire and Sussex men, when quartered in the south of England; and also procured him the instructions of young villagers, eminent for the Yorkshire wrestling, and especially for cross buttocks. Under his various tutors William made such advances that he had few matches of his own age, at either grammatical or gymnastical exercises. About this time the vicar’s eldest son, after having held a fellowship at Cambridge for several years, was presented to a living in his native country, near twenty miles from his father’s house. Having, during his residence at the university, been accustomed to tuition, he proposed to add to his income by establishing an academy. The vicar highly approved of this plan, proposed to send his young grandson as a scholar to the new seminary. His son-in-law and daughter, who were now at the vicarage, were greatly delighted with this scheme, as they saw their boy, with many excellent qualities, required much stricter and steadier discipline than was administered by his grandfather’s indulgence. The colonel’s regiment being speedily to embark for Ireland, it was at his instance determined that young Hamilton should be immediately sent to school. The second son of colonel Hamilton had died an infant, the third was, at the earnest entreaty of the vicar, left to replace William. The youngest child, a daughter, accompanied her parents. Mrs. Hamilton, with extreme reluctance, parted from her two boys; yet convinced that their respective situation was the fittest that could be chosen for their several ages, bore it with fortitude. She was now less uneasy on her husband’s account, than during the first appearance of American discontent.—The conciliatory policy with which the administration of lord North had commenced, had already, in a great measure, quieted disturbances, and it was hoped that measures so agreeable to the mildness of his character would be uniformly adhered to, and produce a total cessation of dissatisfaction. From these expectations, so gratifying to loyal and patriotic politicians, Mrs. Hamilton drew an inference conducive to private happiness, that the colonel would not be ordered to America. Cherishing these hopes, she with the less regret took leave of her father and children, whom, as the distance was comparatively inconsiderable, she hoped ere long to have in her arms.
CHAPTER V.
William Hamilton, the young hero of this true history, was eight years of age when he removed to his uncle doctor Wentbridge’s school, in the neighbourhood of Weatherby. That gentleman began his seminary with a considerable prospect of success, and among a good number of pupils had several boys of nearly his nephew’s standing. William’s genius, therefore, both quick and strong, was stimulated by emulation. His literary career gave his uncle very thorough satisfaction. Before he reached his eleventh year, he was advanced to Cæsar and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and at the head of a class of promising scholars in the various school exercises. Though in his disposition frank, liberal, and bold, and very popular among his schoolfellows, yet he continued passionate; his anger being vented in violence where prowess could operate, but where valour was inapplicable, converging itself into poignant and severe sarcasm; insomuch that his uncle told the old vicar, William would turn out a very clever fellow whatsoever profession he embraced, but if he became literary would most probably be a satirist. The venerable clergyman was pleased with the testimony borne by his son to his grandson’s ability, but declared his sincere wish that the violence of his passions might be restrained, and his sarcastic efforts might be repressed. Though Dr. Wentbridge was no less desirous of confining his nephew’s satirical effusion within the limits of moderation, he could not always succeed. There was at the school an usher of acute and vigorous talents, but malignant in his disposition, sour and sneering in his manners, selfish and avaricious in his conduct, extremely ugly and coarse in his appearance. It was customary at the return to school after the holidays for the scholars to make a present to this person, and their treatment by him was generally found indulgent or rigorous, according to the amount of the donation. Dr. Wentbridge had not thought it necessary, as he paid his teacher sufficiently himself, to make any addition on account of his nephew. The covetous pedant was displeased at this omission, and vented his resentment in rigour and insult to the boy as far as he durst, without offending the master. William had once or twice complained of the usher’s behaviour, but as Dr. Wentbridge well knew the plaintiff’s irritability, and highly valued the defendant on account of his preceptorial qualifications, he, on rather a summary inquiry, gave judgment in the defendant’s favour.—The usher, encouraged by these acquittals, had persisted in persecuting young Hamilton. One day the boy, now turned of twelve, having finished an exercise, in which he had translated into English verse the storm in the first Æneid, had betaken himself to Tom Jones, which he was reading at his leisure hours with a devouring eagerness. He had before pointed out parson Thwackum to his schoolfellows, as the representative of Mr. Scourge, and the usher, was not without an intimation of William’s comments, but had not a plausible pretext for venting his gall. Now perceiving that Hamilton was engaged with this novel, while those about him were occupied at their exercises, he imperiously demanded why he was not at his task. “The task is finished,” answered the other, without the reverential preface of, sir.—“What stupid book is that you are reading, sirrah?”—“I’m reading no stupid book, it’s all very natural.—There, sir,” said the young dog, “you will see parson Thwackum is at last found out by his master, and turned off.”—“What do you say, you scoundrel,” said Scourge. “Away, I am no scoundrel,” replied the boy, “but parson Thwackum was a scoundrel, and was treated accordingly.”—The usher considering this remark as treason, proceeded to summary punishment, and it would have fared hard with our hero, had not one of the young gentlemen, who was stronger than the usher, interfered, and sent another to the master, requesting his immediate presence. Dr. Wentbridge appeared; at once malicious and mean Scourge preferred his accusation. Wentbridge, not without a knowledge of the dispositions and character of his deputy, and who of late had discovered his acrimony against William, soon found out the real merits of the case: but not desirous of lowering, in the eyes of the scholars, a teacher whom he found extremely successful, he dismissed his nephew with a slight rebuke, but sent for him into the parlour, and knowing he could depend upon his veracity, though not on his temper, desired him ingenuously to recount the whole circumstances. These Hamilton very plainly and fully explained. He confessed that, enraged at the usher’s severity, he had compared him to parson Thwackum, “though, sir, I must confess, when I saw him entering a complaint to you, and trying to simper and smile while he is really so rancorous, I thought of another part.”—“What is that, sir?” said the doctor, pretending to speak angrily: “Why, sir,” said William, who penetrated into his uncle’s real sentiments, “that part in which Mr. Blifil, trying to do mischief, has one of those grinning sneers, with which the devil marks his best beloved.”—Wentbridge could hardly avoid smiling at an application, which he could not help thinking most forcibly apposite, but constraining his countenance, most severely rebuked his nephew for speaking so disrespectfully of his teacher. He did not, however, fail privately to expostulate seriously with the tutor on his harshness, and charged him to abstain from it in future. The usher, who had a better place than he could easily get anywhere else, was less violent thereafter, and though, perhaps, he hated the boy more, flogged him much less.
William’s time now passed very pleasantly, and he proceeded in his studies, making rapid proficiency. His father and mother regularly corresponded with our young hero, and derived high gratification from his letters.