Chapter I (11)

The chief originator of this scheme was the host of the King’s Arms, whose name was Jackson. He was what is called a jolly fellow; extremely fond of company, and able to sing a good song. The other members consisted of tradesmen residing in the town, and some of the upper servants of the neighboring nobility and gentry. Among these last was Mr. Grindlay.

Every body concerned was delighted with the new club; except, perhaps, the wives of the clubbists, who did not look forward to the Saturday nights with the same affection as their husbands. More than one of them was heard to say that it was a good thing Saturday came but once a week, and that if it came oftener, she, for one, wouldn’t bear it. Hannah Hammond, although not a woman to express her feelings publicly, did not like this club, in spite of the profits derived from it. She saw that Hammond began to feel that the dull evenings at home contrasted very unpleasantly with the jolly nights at the club. As he and the host of the King’s Arms grew more intimate, they were apt to console themselves with a few extra meetings. Sometimes Hammond made an excuse to go into the town, and sometimes Jackson came to him; but in the latter case Hannah gave her husband’s visitor an indifferent welcome. Jackson seems to have kept _his_ wife in better order; she had already discovered that drink is stronger than love. At first, Hammond yielded occasionally, either to frowns or persuasion; but as one ascendency grew, the other declined; and when he was not strong enough to brave his wife’s wrath or entreaties, he eluded them, by slipping out when she was off her guard. Once away, he seldom reappeared until the next morning; and, as time advanced, two or three days would elapse before his return. Then, when he came, she scolded, and wept; but men get used to women’s tears; and, like petrifying waters, they only harden their hearts as they fall.

So passed a few years; and the girl and boy were no longer children. Esther was a fine young woman of seventeen, and her brother eighteen months older. They had been some time away from the school, and George had been taken home to be instructed to follow his father’s business, which had been the parents’ original intention, when Hannah’s mind was altered. She thought it was a calling that exposed a weak will to temptation, and she dreaded lest her son should get too familiar with his father’s habits and associates; so, with Hammond’s consent, she procured him a situation in a merchant’s counting house; where, being steady and intelligent, he had every prospect of doing well.

She kept Esther at home to be her own assistant and consolation; for she needed both. She attributed all her troubles to Jackson, who had first enticed her husband to drink, and had never since allowed him time to be acted on by better influences. In proportion, therefore, as she loved her husband, she hated Jackson; and, in spite of all, she did love George dearly still. It was true, he was no longer Handsome George: his features were bloated, his figure swollen, his hair thin and grizzled, and his dress neglected and dirty; but he was the chosen husband of her youth; and, with Hannah, to love once was to love always.

Jackson had a son, an excellent lad, possessing all his father’s good qualities, and none of his bad ones. He and young George had been at school together, and a friendship had arisen between them that promised to be enduring; the more so, that Esther Hammond and Henry Jackson were lovers—a secret, the discovery of which was at first very ill received by Hannah. That her Esther should marry the son of Jackson whom she hated, was not to be thought of.

“There’s little reason to fear that Harry will take after his father, mother,” George would say. “Besides, you’d think it hard if any body made me suffer for father; and, for my part, I think it’s enough to cure any body of a love of liquor, to see how it disguises people who would be so different if they could leave it alone.”

It was some time before this kind of argument prevailed with Hannah; but it had its effect at length, sustained as it was by the genuine merits of the candidate, by his evident abhorrence of his father’s vice, and by his dutiful attentions to his mother. So, by-and-by, he became a welcome visitor to Mrs. Hammond and her daughter; and, all things concurring, it was tacitly understood among them, that some day or other, when they were both old enough, and when Henry should be in a situation to maintain a family, Esther was to be his wife.

This arrangement—now that she was satisfied of Harry Jackson’s good character—shed a gleam of comfort on Hannah’s dark path; for her path lay dark before her now. The host of the King’s Arms was never happy out of Hammond’s company; the truth being, that the unfortunate man had grown really fond of George. Hannah’s frowns and coldness could not keep him away; and if she, by persuasion or stratagem, contrived to detain her husband at home, Jackson invariably came in search of him. Then, besides all the other griefs and discomforts attending such a state of things, the business of the house began to decline. The respectable townspeople did not like to frequent an inn where the host was always intoxicated; and, to many who had known them in happier days, George Hammond’s bloated face, and Hannah’s pinched features were not pleasant to behold. If matters went on at this rate, pecuniary embarrassments were not unlikely to be added to her other afflictions; and her dread of this was materially increased by finding that Hammond was beginning to tamper with a small sum of money they had placed in the Tutton Bank, under a mutual agreement that it should remain there, untouched, until Esther’s marriage. All this misery she owed to Jackson, even to the last item in her troubles; for she discovered that the money had been drawn out to lend to him.

Matters went on in this way from bad to worse. Mrs. Hammond was miserable, and Mrs. Jackson was breaking her heart, and the business of both houses was going to the dogs, when Hannah resolved on a last effort to avert the impending ruin.

Had she thought her husband utterly corrupted, her scheme would have been vain; but he had moments of remorse still, in which his good heart got the ascendant: and, persuaded by her unshaken love, she believed that if she could but wean him from Jackson’s company, he might, by her attachment and vigilance, be reclaimed. It so happened that she had a cousin married to a farmer in a distant part of England; and, one day, taking George in a moment of sobriety and repentance, she made a strong appeal to his feelings and affections. “I know,” she said, “that it is Jackson who tempts you to drink, when of yourself you might resist; and I do believe that if the habit were once broken, and your acquaintance with him ceased, we might all be saved yet. Go to my cousin’s; she has often invited us, and I’ll write to her and say you are ordered change of air for your health. You’ll see no drinking there; her husband’s a very sober man. You like farming—go into the fields and the gardens, and work with the spade and plough. It will make another man of you, George. When you return, we’ll break with Jackson entirely.”

The appeal prevailed. George sobbed, threw his arms round his wife’s neck, and vowed that he would never touch liquor again. Eventually, with his wardrobe brushed up, he was dispatched on this hopeful expedition.

Such a course of life as this, however, could not be carried on without some evil consequences to himself as well as others; and in spite of the efforts of his miserable wife to keep things together, the house was ill-conducted; custom forsook it; and although, unknown to Hannah, Jackson had by degrees extracted from Hammond every penny of the savings deposited in the bank, he was distressed for money, and could not keep his creditors quiet. Added to this, he fell ill with a severe attack of delirium tremens, and, when matters were at the worst with him, and they thought he would die, Hannah’s energetic mind began to form plans for the future. Henry and Esther should be married; the money in the Bank should pay off the most pressing liabilities; the care and industry of the young people should restore the house to its former flourishing condition; Mrs. Jackson, the mother, could live with her son, and they should all be once more happy—for, the tempter gone, George would be sober. Was he not sober now at the pleasant farm-house, where he was living with her friends? Did not every letter of her cousin’s praise him, and assure her that he never expressed a desire to drink; and that even although they had been to a christening in the neighborhood, where there was a vast deal of conviviality, George had been so abstemious and cautious, as to delight them all?

But, alas! Jackson recovered, and with his recovery Hannah’s plans were frustrated; but she had a fertile brain; and, where the welfare of those she loved was concerned, her energies never slept. She learnt from Harry, that Jackson’s creditors were more pressing than ever, and that he did not know which way to turn for money. It was quite certain that if nothing were done, his property would be seized, and his wife turned into the street. Might she not take advantage of these embarrassments, and execute her original plan on condition of his abandoning the neighborhood altogether? Next to his death, his removal would be the best thing. Harry and Esther would keep the House; the creditors would be indulgent; and, among the family, they would make an allowance for the support of Mr. and Mrs. Jackson in some distant spot; any sacrifice being preferable to the certain ruin that impended. Mrs. Jackson was afraid that her husband would not consent to the scheme; but she was mistaken; people who are the victims of intemperance are easily won to acquiesce in any measures that are proposed for their advantage; their adherence to them is another affair. But Hannah set to work; and as there was a general sympathy with her laudable endeavor, she met with full success. Such portions of the debt as they could not pay, Harry and Hammond were to become answerable for; and as the business of the King’s Arms had once been a profitable one, there was every reason to hope that the young man might lure back the customers, in process of time release his father-in-law from his bond, and find himself a free and prosperous man.

Thus much done, there was no time to be lost. Jackson, well and drunk, might refuse to do what Jackson, sick and sober, had consented to do; so a place was found for himself and his wife, in a part of the country inhabited by her relations, in order that, as she said, if Jackson kept on drinking, she might not be quite alone in the world. Arrangements were then made for the marriage of the young people.

And what said Hammond to all this? He wrote home that he would consent to any thing his wife proposed, and he hoped it might answer as well as she expected. Hannah was sure it would; but, in order to avoid the possibility of mischief, she arranged that her husband should not return until the eve of the wedding; while she had made it a condition that Jackson should depart immediately after it; thus excluding all possibility of a renewal of intercourse.

On a fine evening in June, the mother and daughter sat under the porch, hand-in-hand, watching for the coach that was to drop George at the door. How happy they were! Harry had just left them, in order to spend the last evening with his poor mother, and, as he said, to have an eye to his father’s proceedings. Young George was still at his country house; but he was to have a holiday the next day, and to be present at the wedding.

At length there was a sound of wheels, and “Here’s the coach!” cried both the women, as the well-loaded vehicle turned round a corner of the road, and appeared in sight. But, to their disappointment, instead of pulling up, the driver only flung down the old portmanteau, and pointed with his thumb toward the town, intimating that he had dropt the owner of it, there, as he passed.

Hannah turned pale. Why had he not come on with the coach? Had he fallen in with Jackson? Her heart sunk within her.

Esther hoped better things; she doubted not that her father had business in the town; but he must know how anxious they would be to see him, and he would surely come soon. Yet, hour after hour slipped by, and he came not. One went to the door, then the other, then the first again, and so on; but no George Hammond appeared. At length, when it was getting quite dusk, they did discern somebody coming toward them with an unsteady step—they saw the figure reel as it approached, before they could distinguish the features, and they turned sick at heart. Hannah groaned, and Esther, grasping her arm, said, “Oh mother! mother!”

But when the person drew near, they perceived that it was not Hammond, but Jackson; and, for a moment, the sight of him, unwelcome object as he was, almost gave them pleasure; it was a relief to find it was not George. But he would come, no doubt, and presently; was probably not far off; and there was the tempter waiting for him.

Angry and disgusted, the two women went into the house, and shut the door. After an irrepressible burst of tears, Hannah bethought herself of sending a lad they kept as hostler, along the road, to try and meet Hammond, and to smuggle him into the house by the back way. The boy went; but, after walking until he was tired, returned, saying he had been to the town, but could see nothing of master. He had, however, met Mr. Harry, who had promised to go in search of him, and bring him home. Finding Jackson sound asleep, and not likely to move, Hannah sent her daughter, and the maid, and the boy to bed, resolving to sit up herself, that she might be ready to admit George when he came. Alas! in what state would he arrive?

To-morrow was his daughter’s wedding-day, and as Hannah thought of all they had suffered, the love—that had been flooding from her woman’s heart toward her husband returning to her, as she had fondly hoped, to live purely and virtuously the rest of their days—was turned into bitterness and wrath.

It was a weary night as she sat listening to the ticking of the clock, and the slow hours as they struck, until the dawn broke, and then she peeped out to see if Jackson were still at the door. Yes, there he was fast asleep. A pretty condition he would be in to go to church with his son! However, he would be sober when he awoke; and sick at heart, and sad, she went upstairs and stretched herself on the bed beside her daughter.

But she could not sleep; her mind was anxious, and her ears were on the stretch for her profligate; and by-and-by the sparrows on the house-top began to chirp, and the market-carts rolled by on their way to the town, and the laborers’ heavy shoes tramped along to the fields where their work lay; and still there was no George! No George! and so, at length, she fell asleep.

She had slept about a couple of hours when she was awakened by Esther’s voice. “Mother!” cried the girl, “there’s father at the door. You’d better go yourself and let him in!” “I will!” said Hannah, hastily getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes—“I will;” and she folded her lips with an expression of bitterness.

“Don’t be too hard upon him, mother,” said Esther—“it’s the last time, for Jackson will be gone to-morrow;” and while her mother descended the stairs, the young girl arose, with her heart full of love and happiness—for how could she be sad when that very day was to make her Harry’s wife? Her wedding finery was all laid out ready to put on, and she was inspecting it with the innocent vanity of eighteen, when she was startled by a scream—another and another—and it was her mother’s voice! Pale and transfixed with terror, she stood with her hands pressed upon her bosom, to still her heart’s beating. What could have happened? Then she heard other voices below—men’s voices; and with trembling hands, she tried to dress herself, that she might go down and inquire. Suddenly, one cried out, “Where’s Esther? Where’s my sister?” There was a hasty foot upon the stairs, and George, her brother, pale as death, haggard, disheveled, rushed into the room.

Then there was the tramp of many feet below, and Esther rushed to the door; but George caught her in his arms.

“Wait!” he said, “and I’ll tell you all. Jackson got hold of my father last night and made him drink—”

“We know it; but Harry! Oh, where’s Harry?”

“Harry heard of it, and told me; and we went to seek him, he one way, I another. It was not till about two hours ago, I heard that father had not long left the Plough, in James-street, and that Harry had been there directly afterward, and gone in pursuit of him; so, being very anxious, I thought I would come on here to see if he was arrived.” And here the poor boy’s sobs choked his utterance.

“And has any thing happened to my father!” said Esther.

“When I got near the Mill-dam,” continued George, “I saw two or three of the millers looking into the water—”

“My poor father! He’s drowned!” said Esther, clasping her hands.

“Yes,” said George, hesitating; “whether he was seized with delirium, or whether remorse got the better of him, and he was ashamed to come home, there’s no telling—”

“But where’s Harry?” cried the girl; for George hesitated again.

“He must have overtaken my father, and seen the accident—or must have been trying to prevent his throwing himself in the water—for poor Harry—!” And then there was the tramp of more feet below, and another weight was carried through the passage. “I had him brought here, Esther. I knew you’d wish it—and he would have wished it too!”

This was Esther Hammond’s wedding-day! Was not this sorrow enough for one poor house?

Violent in her feelings and affections, Hannah never recovered. Her reason became impaired, and she was released from her sufferings by a death that none could venture to lament. Jackson’s creditors having laid claim to the whole of the property, in consequence of Hammond’s bond, the young people, eager to fly the scene of so much woe, took the advice of their friend, Mr. Grindlay, and came to seek a maintenance in London.

So ends my tragic little story. I have only to add, that the proposed plan of emigration was carried out, to the infinite advantage of the two young people, and very much to the satisfaction of Mr. Jameson.

MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.(4)