Bracebridge Hall: The Lovers

The Lovers

     Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away; for lo the
     winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear
     on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and
     the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.
     SONG OF SOLOMON.

To a man who is a little of a philosopher, and a bachelor to boot; and
who, by dint of some experience in the follies of life, begins to look
with a learned eye upon the ways of man, and eke of woman; to such a
man, I say, there is something very entertaining in noticing the conduct
of a pair of young lovers. It may not be as grave and scientific a study
as the loves of the plants, but it is certainly as interesting.

I have therefore derived much pleasure, since my arrival at the Hall,
from observing the fair Julia and her lover. She has all the
delightful blushing consciousness of an artless girl, inexperienced in
coquetry, who has made her first conquest; while the captain regards her
with that mixture of fondness and exultation, with which a youthful
lover is apt to contemplate so beauteous a prize.

I observed them yesterday in the garden, advancing along one of the
retired walks. The sun was shining with delicious warmth, making great
masses of bright verdure, and deep blue shade. The cuckoo, that
"harbinger of spring," was faintly heard from a distance; the thrush
piped from the hawthorn, and the yellow butterflies sported, and toyed,
and coquetted in the air.

The fair Julia was leaning on her lover's arm, listening to his
conversation, with her eyes cast down, a soft blush on her cheek, and a
quiet smile on her lips, while in the hand that hung negligently by her
side was a bunch of flowers. In this way they were sauntering slowly
along, and when I considered them, and the scene in which they were
moving, I could not but think it a thousand pities that the season
should ever change, or that young people should ever grow older, or that
blossoms should give way to fruit, or that lovers should ever get
married.

From what I have gathered of family anecdote, I understand that the fair
Julia is the daughter of a favourite college friend of the squire; who,
after leaving Oxford, had entered the army, and served for many years in
India, where he was mortally wounded in a skirmish with the natives. In
his last moments he had, with a faltering pen, recommended his wife and
daughter to the kindness of his early friend.

The widow and her child returned to England helpless, and almost
hopeless. When Mr. Bracebridge received accounts of their situation, he
hastened to their relief. He reached them just in time to soothe the
last moments of the mother, who was dying of a consumption, and to make
her happy in the assurance that her child should never want a protector.

The good squire returned with his prattling charge to his stronghold,
where he has brought her up with a tenderness truly paternal. As he has
taken some pains to superintend her education, and form her taste, she
has grown up with many of his notions, and considers him the wisest as
well as the best of men. Much of her time, too, has been passed with
Lady Lillycraft, who has instructed her in the manners of the old
school, and enriched her mind with all kinds of novels and romances.
Indeed, her ladyship has had a great hand in promoting the match between
Julia and the captain, having had them together at her country seat the
moment she found there was an attachment growing up between them: the
good lady being never so happy as when she has a pair of turtles cooing
about her.

I have been pleased to see the fondness with which the fair Julia is
regarded by the old servants of the Hall. She has been a pet with them
from childhood, and every one seems to lay some claim to her education;
so that it is no wonder that she should be extremely accomplished. The
gardener taught her to rear flowers, of which she is extremely fond. Old
Christy, the pragmatical huntsman, softens when she approaches; and as
she sits lightly and gracefully in her saddle, claims the merit of
having taught her to ride; while the housekeeper, who almost looks upon
her as a daughter, intimates that she first gave her an insight into the
mysteries of the toilet, having been dressing-maid in her young days to
the late Mrs. Bracebridge. I am inclined to credit this last claim, as I
have noticed that the dress of the young lady had an air of the old
school, though managed with native taste, and that her hair was put up
very much in the style of Sir Peter Lely's portraits in the
picture-gallery.

Her very musical attainments partake of this old-fashioned character,
and most of her songs are such as are not at the present day to be found
on the piano of a modern performer. I have, however, seen so much of
modern fashions, modern accomplishments, and modern fine ladies, that I
relish this tinge of antiquated style in so young and lovely a girl; and
I have had as much pleasure in hearing her warble one of the old songs
of Herrick, or Carew, or Suckling, adapted to some simple old melody, as
I have had from listening to a lady amateur skylark it up and down
through the finest bravura of Rossini or Mozart.

We have very pretty music in the evenings, occasionally, between her and
the captain, assisted sometimes by Master Simon, who scrapes, dubiously,
on his violin; being very apt to get out, and to halt a note or two in
the rear. Sometimes he even thrums a little on the piano, and takes a
part in a trio, in which his voice can generally be distinguished by a
certain quavering tone, and an occasional false note.

I was praising the fair Julia's performance to him after one of her
songs, when I found he took to himself the whole credit of having formed
her musical taste, assuring me that she was very apt; and, indeed,
summing up her whole character in his knowing way, by adding, that "she
was a very nice girl, and had no nonsense about her."

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