CHAPTER III.
"Ay, and we are betrothed; nay more, our marriage-hour,
With all the cunning manner of our flight,
Determined of."
Shakspeare.
From the state in which Philip found Lord Martindale, it seemed very clear that anxiety of mind had the greatest share in producing his illness. That father and son should both have been living beyond their means, in order to keep up their dignity, was indeed a painful consideration; but more especially was it painful to the young gentleman, who now very strongly felt the difference between real and nominal independence. When his father was a commoner, and he himself was pursuing the studies of a profession, he thought that it would be a very fine thing to be heir to a title, and to live independent of the world. And when that long-desired and long-sought-for honor became his father's portion, then did the pride of rank take possession of the young gentleman's soul; and though the necessity for occupation was greater, the inclination to it was less. It might be tolerable for the younger sons to pursue a profession, but the heir was above it. When also the opulent patronage of Mr. John Martindale was added to the other stimulants to grandeur of feeling; and when the Hon. Philip Martindale found himself heir to a title, and probable heir to a very splendid mansion and an ample fortune, the folly of pride began to shoot forth with rank luxuriance, and the young man behaved with the greater absurdity. Very soon, however, as we have seen, did he feel the inconveniences and perplexities of his situation; and every day those inconveniences and perplexities grew more troublesome and annoying. And when old Mr. Martindale found his daughter and her family, and when he had opened his eyes to the folly of his cousin, then was the young man in a state of real and severe distress. The title also to which he once looked forward with the greatest complacency and satisfaction, now threatened to devolve upon him at a moment when it would be rather an inconvenience and an encumbrance than any very high gratification.
Watching therefore with great anxiety the progress of his father's illness, and finding that no very immediate change was likely to take place, he at last determined most heroically to lead to the altar the daughter of the retired soap-boiler. Let no one cavil at our phraseology, when we say that the determination was most heroical. It was a sacrifice of very strong feeling on the part of Philip Martindale; nothing but absolute necessity could have driven him to it.
To narrate the progress of a courtship in which one party was urged by pecuniary necessity, and the other by vanity aspiring after a title, would be somewhat difficult and tedious. Suffice it to say, that the offer was accepted quite as readily as Mr. Philip could wish, perhaps, indeed, something more so. The bride elect did not mightily recommend herself by the manner in which the offer was accepted; and during the short period which interfered between the acceptance of the offer and the celebration of the marriage, the young lady was so much intoxicated with the anticipation of the approaching honor, that, to use a very coarse though expressive phrase, she made herself quite ridiculous. Philip was mortified deeply at the prospect which now threatened him; but there was no possibility of escape. From some of Miss Sampson's language, it appeared that she was not altogether ignorant of the claims which the Jewish people had on the Hon. Philip Martindale; and by the young lady's mode of expressing herself, it appeared that she was indebted for a knowledge of that fact to the communicative tongue of Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe. Here then was an additional and increasing mortification. To retract was impossible, and indeed in one sense undesirable. With heavy heart the courtship, if such it might be called, proceeded; and if the honorable gentleman had entertained any fears that his more fashionable friends would look coolly on him in consequence of his convenient match with opulence from the city, he soon perceived that the place of former acquaintants would be amply and copiously supplied by recruits from the east. Miss Sampson was too proud of her humble servant, her gallant knight, her sentimental swain, to lose any opportunity of introducing him to those of her friends or distant relatives, in whose eyes she was desirous of shining with a splendor that should eclipse them all. Miserable was the mortification which the Hon. Philip Martindale endured, when he was compelled to sit down at Sir Gilbert's table with Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe; and when, at the kind and good-humored peace-making solicitations of Celestina, he was under the unavoidable necessity of shaking hands with that gallant gentleman. Philip Martindale was not partial to perfumery, but he was forced to see and to smell Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson till he was quite tired of the creature. This perfumed gentleman was indeed very gentle and courteous: he would never act as Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, of St. Mary Axe. He was particularly cautious of giving offence voluntarily; but involuntarily he gave much offence, yet not such as is the custom to resent by a challenge to mortal combat. He was offensive by means of his perfumery, and affectation, and servility, and over-officiousness. But notwithstanding all this, Miss Sampson would persist in calling him a "nice man." So convinced was Miss Sampson of this truth, that she would frequently appeal to Mr. Philip for his judgment, and ask him if he did not really think Mr. Tippetson was a "nice young man." There were many other nice men and nice women to whom Miss Sampson did contrive to introduce to her destined spouse. Being in violent good-humor and high spirits; her weakness of mind and natural folly were rendered more decidedly conspicuous; while, on the other hand, Philip being in low spirits was more observant of, and more annoyed by, these petty vexations. Philip never entertained a very high opinion of Miss Sampson, though he did not think her to be an absolute simpleton; but his opinion of the agreeableness of her manners and the soundness of her understanding, considerably abated on the formation of that acquaintance with her which was destined to lead to matrimony.
We have hinted at the awkwardness which Mr. Philip felt on the subject of the marriage-settlement; very happily however for him, Sir Gilbert Sampson was very prompt and liberal on the occasion. Not suspecting the use to which the money was devoted, he was liberal even to Philip's most sanguine expectations. Sir Gilbert, though a man of ambition, and though pleased with the title to which his daughter would be advanced, was not weak enough to suppose that Philip Martindale or any other person of rank would marry the daughter for any other than substantial reasons. He was well satisfied that Philip must be in want of money, and therefore, with a very proper and becoming spirit, paid handsomely for the honor to which Miss Sampson was advanced. This event naturally put Mr. Philip into better spirits; and though he had at first been somewhat desirous of postponing the marriage till the season was nearly over in town, yet now as the purse of the city knight seemed to open so freely, he thought it most advisable to make speedy use of the means which it offered him for getting rid of his mortifying encumbrances.