Chapter XV
“There is no place like Home!” Jerry bids adieu to Life in London, and sets out, with the Corinthian, for Hawthorn Hall. Rosebud Cottage in sight, the Church in perspective, and a good look-out towards the High Road to Matrimony. Uncertainty of existence: sorrow succeeding sorrow: Tom killed by a fall from his horse while hunting. Jerry disconsolate for the loss of his two Pals. Reflections on the death of the Corinthian, and a few Lines to his Memory. Grieving’s a folly! Thoughts on Marriage: popping the Question—the bit of Gold—the reluctant NO—YES!—Old Jollyboy an important feature. The Wedding Day—all happiness at Hawthorn Hall—Jerry and Mary Rosebud united. The TIE-UP of the Story, i.e., to promote Life in the Country.
The sudden death of Logic made quite a chasm in the movements of Tom and Jerry; indeed he had been the principal caterer for their amusements, and our heroes were not only in grief for his loss, but reduced completely to a stand-still without him. It is true; Jerry had previously made up his mind to quit London, but the sudden demise of the Oxonian positively hurried him out of town. The Metropolis had lost its attractions upon the feelings of Jerry, and he flattered himself that the neighbourhood of Hawthorn Hall, the sports of the field, and the fascinating company of Miss Rosebud, would, in a great measure, afford relief to his mind, and ultimately restore him to cheerfulness. The parents of Jerry were overjoyed in beholding their darling son once more safe under their roof, and the Corinthian also received the most friendly congratulations on his arrival at Hawthorn Hall. The sombre appearance of our heroes, who were in deep mourning for the Oxonian, operated as a great drawback to the festivities which under different circumstances, had been intended to celebrate their reception; indeed, at every step they took, the loss of Logic was sincerely regretted by all those persons who had ranked him as one of their best acquaintances, during his last appearance at Hawthorn Hall. “To me, the loss of Logic is incalculable,” said Jerry, to his father; “he was not only able to advise, but his manner of doing it was so persuasive, that it was impossible not to benefit by his experience; more especially at my time of life, when such experience was by far more valuable to my mind, than any knowledge I might have obtained of men and manners, through my own exertions!”
Our hero lost no time in visiting Rosebud Cottage. On his entrance he was welcomed by the father of our heroine with no common sort of ardour; but, on his being ushered into the presence of Mary Rosebud, he felt confused, nay, ashamed; her looks, although accompanied with a smile, nevertheless told him that he had been neglectful towards her, during his residence in London, and she gently chided him for his want of attention. “I am afraid, Sir,” said she, “it has been with you like most professed lovers, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’” Jerry could not reply; his excuses were lame and impotent; indeed, he was aware that he was in fault, and, therefore, sensibly threw himself upon the mercy of the Court, and sued in the most persuasive manner for pardon. The good nature of Mary, aided by a little of something else—perhaps, love—could not resist the application; and she generously admitted that some allowance might be made for him, when surrounded by the attractions of London. “Generous girl!” exclaimed Jerry, “the remainder of my life shall be devoted to your happiness.”
Jerry being now perfectly established in the good opinion of Miss Rosebud, became doubly attentive in his visits; when the minutes, the hours, the days, nay, the weeks almost appeared to fly, so fascinated was Jerry with the company and attractions of our charming heroine. In truth, the time of Jerry was completely occupied with hunting, dinners, card-parties, assemblies, &c., accompanied by Tom; and his life appeared so happy, that he congratulated himself on his return to the seat of his father, also upon the hair-breadth escapes he had met with, during his Day and Night Scenes in London.
During a walk one fine evening, and Hawthorn Church appearing in view, Jerry was determined to make the best use of the opportunity which offered itself, by soliciting Mary Rosebud to name the day that was to complete his happiness. “I have always promised my father,” replied Mary, with the utmost frankness, “that he should name the wedding-day; therefore, gain his consent, and you will have no complaint to make against my decision.” “I will be your father upon that joyful occasion,” said the Corinthian, “if you will permit me, my dear Miss Rosebud, as I am very anxious to bestow on my friend Jerry one of the greatest treasures in this life,—a most amiable companion and virtuous wife.” Miss Rosebud blushed at the remark, but nevertheless felt pleased with the compliment paid by the Corinthian; and the subject was dropped until they arrived at Rosebud Cottage. The father of our heroine, on being made acquainted with the wishes of the young folks, observed, “I am quite content; and I sincerely hope they will prove one of the happiest couples alive. Therefore, let the settlements be drawn immediately, the licence procured without delay, the dresses made offhand, our friends invited in good time, and Old Jollyboy requested to hold himself in readiness. Now, having settled this marriage business to my mind, let us have a jolly evening together, before we part; and to-morrow, Jerry, what do you say to a day’s hunting? And your cousin, Tom, I have no doubt, will make one of the party.” “It will afford me great pleasure,” replied the Corinthian; “and we will be in time to start with you.” The evening was spent in great jollity.—“The single married, and the married happy,” were toasted over and over again by the party, until Jerry became as lively as a lark, Old Rosebud roaring out the view halloo! The Corinthian quite merry and facetious, and Old Jollyboy rather above par, hiccoughing, every now and then, with an attempt to pun, that he was “fond of (a) good living!”
Our heroes were ready at the appointed time to take the field with Old Rosebud; the latter fox-hunter was in high glee with the excellence of the day’s sport, Jerry equally delighted, and Tom had just declared he had not been so pleased for a long time; but, unfortunately for him, in his bold endeavour to clear some high palings, his horse fell with him, and he was thrown some distance. On being raised from the ground, it was discovered that his neck was dislocated, and he expired instantly. Upon Jerry’s ascertaining the fate of the Corinthian, his feelings were so completely overcome, that he fell down in a fit quite senseless.
To describe the wretched state of mind which Jerry suffered for several days, at the unexpected accident and melancholy death of his dearest friend in the world would have baffled the poet’s skill and the painter’s talents to pourtray—the shock was so sudden, and the loss to our hero so great, that it was impossible to have been otherwise; just at the moment when happiness appeared to be within his grasp, and he was also slowly recovering from the serious effects which the death of Logic had also made upon his feelings, to have met with such an immense blow—the death of Corinthian Tom—shattered his nerves all to pieces, and anything in the shape of consolation appeared to him officious, troublesome, and unavailing! Ultimately, by the soothing attention of Miss Rosebud, the friendly interference of the old fox hunter, her father, the unremitting kindness of his parents, and the cheering, good advice of Old Jollyboy, by degrees he was restored to a state of convalescence.
From “Gay to grave,” was now the reversed scene for the contemplation of our hero, and the old proverb verified to an awful extent, “that many things happen between the cup and the lip;” the marriage rites were now suspended to make way for the performance of the burial service. The remains of the Corinthian were conveyed to town with the utmost solemnity, and interred in the family vault, with all those obsequies due to his rank; and although Jerry remained extremely ill, and scarcely able to stand upon his legs, yet he was determined, at all hazards, to pay the last respect to his most valued friend and relative, Corinthian Tom, by his appearance at the funeral in the character of chief mourner. Jerry did not quit the Metropolis until he had settled every thing to his satisfaction respecting the interment of the Corinthian. Upon the return of Jerry to Hawthorn Hall, several days elapsed before anything like pleasure occupied his mind; he positively refused to quit the house, and he also shunned the society of his acquaintances. “It requires no common fortitude,” observed Jerry, to Old Jollyboy, “to bear up against the loss of two such invaluable friends as Tom and Logic, snatched, as it were, in an instant from me, when I stood most in need of their assistance, and to whom I am principally indebted for the knowledge of mankind which I now possess. In Logic, I have lost a model of experience, a fund of talent, and a heart overflowing with the milk of human kindness. By the death of Tom, I shall heavily miss that urbanity, discernment and liberality, which highly distinguishes the polished, and thorough-bred gentleman. I am now left to decide for myself; but, nevertheless, I hope I shall sincerely profit by their example. Appearances, I am perfectly aware might be against both of their characters with the fastidious part of society, yet hypocrisy, cant, humbug, or dissimulation, never disgraced their conduct: a love of honour shone conspicuously throughout their actions, and, by an acknowledgment of their own errors, displayed a noble generosity towards the faults of others. They taught me not to spend time in regretting any mistakes that I had made, but to exert myself upon every occasion to repair them. This maxim shall be my guide through life—I will not repine, but struggle with fortitude against unavoidable calamities, and endeavour to make myself happy under all circumstances of my existences.”
Jerry immediately gave orders for a very handsome stone to be placed in the most conspicuous situation near to the spot where Corinthian Tom lost his life, with the following inscription engraved upon it:—
Near to this Spot of Earth,
Lost his Life by a Fall from his Horse while Hunting,
CORINTHIAN TOM,
One of the highest-bred creatures in the Universe, and who got
over the ground like nothing else but
A GOOD ONE:
In the walks of fashion, he was a Corinthian;
Amongst the Bloods, a bon vivant;
On the Turf a real Sportsman; in the Chase, an Out and Outer;
And in his deportment to every person
A PERFECT GENTLEMAN!
If he could not put in a positive claim to the title of
The Rose and Pillar of the State.
No man in the world ever possessed the Suaviter in Modo
and Fortiter, in re
In a more eminent degree than
Corinthian Tom.
This Remembrance has been erected by his Relative and
sincere Friend
JERRY HAWTHORN, Esq.,
Under the hope, that when he hears the Last View Halloo!
His Pedigree may be found sound; his Race complete, by
Winning the Happy Stakes; and nothing against him
Noted down in the
Steward’s Book.
“I admit your loss has been great, and I also admire the tenour of your argument,” observed Mr. Rosebud, “but, nevertheless, ‘grieving’s a folly;’ there is a time for every thing, as my friend Old Jollyboy would have observed, therefore, Jerry, having done every thing becoming the character of a sincere friend, I think you ought now to turn to a more pleasant view of the picture, and once more give your acquaintances the benefit of your company.” “Good!” exclaimed Old Jollyboy; “for some time past, I have been holding myself in readiness to receive a summons to perform a certain ceremony, without Squire Hawthorn has given up the marriage altogether. All in good time perhaps!”
The trifling hint was quite sufficient, and Jerry, lest his conduct should be thought cold or neglectful, presented himself, in the course of the morning, “for better or for worse,” to Miss Rosebud, at the Cottage, anxiously soliciting her to name the wedding day. The disposition of Mary Rosebud was of the most ingenious nature, and her attachment to our hero too great to keep him long in suspense. “Perhaps, Sir,” said Mary, “I ought to say ‘No!’—and insist upon more time, to enable me to form a correct opinion of your conduct, whether you have duly considered the serious and important charge of martrimony, and the confinement also attendant on such a state; and, likewise, freely consenting, as it is termed, to surrender a part of your liberty, before I say ‘Yes.’ But I prefer being frank on the present occasion; and, relying on your honour, generosity, and true love, I am content, whenever my father shall think proper to name the day.” “Generous, amiable girl,” replied Jerry, “I have well considered the subject, in every point of view; but I will make no professions: yet my endeavours throughout my life, shall be to strengthen, what the Poet has so beautifully described, the
“Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets.”
The day was immediately fixed for the nuptials by Mr. Rosebud; the marriage ceremony was performed by Old Jollyboy, and when Miss Rosebud answered “I will!” the old Curate was so full of joy, that the word “Good!” had almost escaped his lips. The estates of the Rosebuds and the Hawthorns were united, and Mary and Jerry made the happiest of the happy. The wedding-day was devoted to pleasure. “It shall be kept in the old style,” said Jerry’s father; “every body, shall be welcome; we will have a dance upon the green; all the lads and lasses in the village shall be invited to celebrate the wedding; we will broach a tub of ‘humming bub!!’ and nothing shall be wanting to promote mirth and harmony.” “Good!” said Old Jollyboy, over his pipe; but, long before the approach of night, the “gaily circulating glass” had been pushed about by Old Hawthorn to all the company—that, suffice to observe; as we have too much respect for the cloth to tell tales, the fine old Curate required the assistance of “Amen,” the clerk, to make Jollyboy “all right” at the Curacy.
The honey-moon was, of course, a raptuous one; after which Jerry might be viewed as a “settled being.” Time rolled over pleasantly with him and his bride; and the sports of the field, if possible, he enjoyed with greater zest than heretofore. His fire-side was a pattern of domestic comfort, although a sigh would now and then escape his lips, whenever the thoughts of Tom and Logic came over his mind. In every other respect, Jerry was a picture of contentment; determined to profit by his experience, and to turn to a good account, for the benefit of himself and his family, the many hair-breadth escapes and dangerous adventures he had met with in his Day and Night Scenes in Life in London. He was the delight of all the companies he visited in the neighbourhood of Hawthorn Hall; his general conduct was the praise of the surrounding gentry, and he was admitted, by all parties, to sustain the character of a perfect Country Gentleman. We now take our leave of Jerry, “all happiness,” with his amiable wife, a fine estate, a capital stud of horses, and a crack pack of hounds, to promote—
LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
The End