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 LI B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 8H> 
 W5Un 
 v. I
 
 RINGROVE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 OLD FASHIONED NOTIONS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN," "A TALE OF 
 THE TIMES," &c. &c. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1827.
 
 r<2 3 
 
 v.l 
 
 RINGROVE. 
 
 An old, and may it without presump- 
 tion be said, a favoured Mentor of 
 youth, after ten years' silence, steals 
 from her recess to say, that she has, 
 during her retirement, endured afflic- 
 tion, and experienced its benefits. She 
 re-appears in a character which she 
 has acquired since her secession ; yet, 
 egotist as she is, no one who really 
 knows her will suspect that she has 
 exhibited Mrs. Loveday as a cast of her 
 own countenance, but as the Brazen 
 Head which she has fabricated to utter 
 the good things she has collected and 
 deems worthy of transmitting as ora- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 cular. If favourably received, " the 
 Old Woman " may make another visit 
 to the press j but if she be judged to 
 have turned " driveller," and the marks 
 of fatuity be found upon her, the pub- 
 lic will commend the decent resolution 
 of preventing her from continuing to 
 be " a show." Yet before she dismisses 
 this, possibly her last appeal to the 
 literary world, she begs to say, that she 
 does not aspire to the distinction of 
 being a fashionable novelist. A key 
 to the work is not necessary ; any re- 
 semblance that may be traced to living 
 characters and real events is fortuitous; 
 no known delinquent is pilloried in a 
 mask, and exposed to the pel tings of 
 public ridicule under charges which, 
 blending truth with falsehood, either 
 cast a gauzy veil of sentiment over 
 guilt, or magnify infirmity into mon- 
 strous crime; no rival or enemy is
 
 covertly satirized ; no friend or patron 
 deified ; and if the character sustained 
 for thirty years appears to deteriorate, 
 that fault arises from the feebleness of 
 infirmity, not from change of principle. 
 With this protest against any attempt 
 at auto-biography or personality, she 
 ceases to speak in her own character. 
 
 b 2
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 At last I set out for my grandmo. 
 ther's. 
 
 Twelve years had elapsed since I 
 saw that venerable lady of whom now 
 I had but a faint recollection ; it was 
 on a sad occasion, the death of my 
 own mamma. That circumstance, of 
 course, blended a considerable share 
 of gloomy, disagreeable remembrances 
 with her identity ; besides, as this visit 
 had for the last five years been held 
 over me in terrorem, when I entered 
 the chariot which was to convey me 
 part of the way to Ringrove, my feel- 
 ings were, perhaps, similar to those of 
 expatriated criminals on a voyage to 
 Australasia. If I was remiss in at- 
 tending to my master's lessons, or 
 contradicted my little brothers and
 
 sisters, or went to a party with my 
 hair negligently arranged, or declined 
 a partner who (however disagreeable) 
 promised the faintest chance of a fu- 
 ture establishment, I regularly heard 
 this remark from my stepmother : "It 
 is quite in vain, Mr. Herbert, for me 
 to take pains with this girl ; she is in- 
 corrigible. We must send her to her 
 grandmother." 
 
 But for the degrading banishment 
 which was thus held out, and a conse- 
 quent exclusion from all I had learned 
 to love and admire, my recollections of 
 my threatened gaoler would have been 
 of a mixed nature. I had twice been 
 domesticated with Mrs. Loveday, once 
 at Ringrove with my own mamma, 
 during her long illness, and again in 
 London at the time of her funeral. 
 On the former occasion, I thought Rin- 
 grove pleasanter than my father's town- 
 b 3
 
 6 
 
 house, for I was allowed to ride the 
 donkey, to play with the great house- 
 dog, arid to luxuriate among the fruit 
 and the flowers of the productive gar- 
 den, a plot of which, three yards 
 square, was granted to my especial 
 use; these I perpetually threw into 
 new shapes, and dug up what I planted 
 to see if it grew. I was a year older 
 when Mrs. Loveday visited London ; 
 she looked differently than when we 
 were in the country — paler, thinner, 
 older, and melancholy. The servants 
 said she did not live in style, and was 
 covetous and interfering. My father 
 declared she was one whom nobody 
 could please, so neither he nor I made 
 the useless attempt. I remembered 
 she opposed my having a bugle-border 
 on a crape frock for the dancing mas- 
 ter's ball, saying, my bereavement was 
 too recent to justify my appearing in
 
 public. She bought me no bon-bons, 
 trinkets, nor play-things; her only pr- 
 sents were a miniature of my mamma 
 and a few books, and these were voted 
 to be useless, as I could not exhibit 
 them on my chiffonier, except the 
 Bible and Prayer Book, which, being 
 elegantly bound, my father called her 
 a spiritual dandy. Her manner at part- 
 ing was affectionate, and many a tear 
 dropped on my face as she repeatedly 
 asked for one more kiss ; yet 1 did 
 not lament her departure, and certainly 
 rejoiced to hear my father refuse her 
 request to have me intrusted to her 
 care, by assuring her he could not part 
 with his little housekeeper. 
 
 For some months after my grand- 
 mother left us, I led as happy a life 
 as an uncontrolled girl of nine years 
 old could desire. Extensive mercan- 
 tile concerns kept my father chiefly in 
 
 B 4f
 
 8 
 
 the city, but when he returned to 
 
 Square, it was to lavish upon me the 
 endearments which doating fondness 
 suggested, and the gifts which pro- 
 fusion only could supply. I was the 
 best dressed girl in the circle of my 
 acquaintance. My father kept a good 
 table, and there, except when it was 
 graced by some dignified guests, I was 
 permitted to preside. Every one knew 
 I was the idol of a doating parent, 
 every one believed I was the heiress 
 of immense wealth ; for it was thought 
 impossible that so fond a father, so in- 
 consolable a widower, a man of such 
 refined sensibility, who had lost so in- 
 comparable a wife, a husband, too, 
 whose attachment had been so roman- 
 tically formed, so vividly sustained, 
 and so prematurely dissolved, could 
 ever think of a second marriage. My 
 father's dining acquaintance admired
 
 the happy ease of my manners, and 
 the brilliancy of my wit. The ser- 
 vants affirmed I was the most generous 
 creature in the world, for I tore, spoiled, 
 and gave away my dresses with perfect 
 indifference. My masters were all asto- 
 nished at my talents, and declared that 
 I gave them no trouble ; and my go- 
 verness, a lady of singular command of 
 temper, prudence, and discernment, in 
 opposition to the whisper which some- 
 times circulated in the drawing-room, 
 that I was rather plain, professed it to 
 be her opinion, that when Miss Her- 
 bert's complexion brightened up, and 
 her features came out, and her figure 
 and manner were formed, her fine 
 eyes, teeth, and hair must make her 
 irresistibly fascinating. Yes, "irresist- 
 ibly fascinating " were the well-re- 
 membered words. How bright are 
 the paintings of youthful hope ! How 
 b 5
 
 10 
 
 vivid the recollections of self-love ! 
 Eight years have elapsed since these 
 compliments were paid to my perfec- 
 tions, and possibly I am now the only 
 person who recollects that I once stood 
 on an envied eminence with yet loftier 
 heights waiting my ascent. 
 
 I had just discovered that I had 
 only to ask and possess all that my 
 heart or my fancy suggested, when my 
 father one morning requested my stay 
 at the breakfast-table after my gover- 
 ness, Miss Plaudit, had made an effort 
 to remove. " You too must stay," 
 said he to her in a tone of voice I had 
 never heard him use to any but myself; 
 " the two dearest beings in the world 
 must no longer be ignorant of the 
 situation in which I mean they should 
 stand to each other. My beloved Emma, 
 my own Hypatia " — and here his eye 
 rested on Miss Plaudit's face with Ian-
 
 11 
 
 guishing tenderness — " thus I join 
 your hands, and conjure you to remain 
 through life as you are now, the most 
 affectionate and faithful of friends, but 
 under the new titles of mother and 
 daughter." 
 
 Miss Plaudit opened her arms and 
 almost stifled me with her caresses ; her 
 eyes rained tears as fast as her tongue 
 dropped honied words. Stunned at 
 the suddenness of the communication, 
 terrified, disgusted at having one whom 
 I had hitherto considered as my in- 
 ferior promoted to be my equal, (more 
 than that I thought a being so in- 
 dulgent to my desires, so fond of my 
 person, and so conscious of my talents, 
 never could presume to become,) I 
 struggled to loosen myself from her 
 embrace, instead of returning it, nor 
 did my tears flow till my father had 
 led her from the room in an agony of 
 b 6
 
 12 
 
 fine feeling, in which I could hear her, 
 in the intervals of hysterical sobbing, 
 exclaim, " Oh ! Mr. Herbert, what a 
 gem do you give me to polish ! May 
 I prove myself worthy of removing her 
 prejudices, and asserting my claim to 
 her ingenuous heart ! What delightful 
 sincerity, what unsophisticated frank- 
 ness ! indeed, I must have you admire 
 the naivete of her conduct." 
 
 When my father returned to me, he 
 found that I also had worked myself 
 up to a high pitch of passionate grief. 
 I flew into his arms ; I clung around 
 his neck; my breaking heart could 
 not vent itself in sobs sufficiently to 
 give my feelings utterance. ''• Why, 
 what is the matter, Emma ? Come, 
 come, no more of this. I have left 
 Hypatia quite composed, and be as- 
 sured my motive for choosing her to 
 be my wife proceeds from the strong
 
 13 
 
 affection she bears you ; and can you 
 suppose she will ever allow me to love 
 you less ? " 
 
 " But you promised, sir, I should 
 always be your little housekeeper ! " 
 
 " So I did, love; but don't you hope 
 one day to have a house of your own : 
 and then what am I to do ? I intend 
 every thing shall go on just as it does, 
 only the servants will mind you more 
 when you are supported by such an 
 excellent judicious mother." 
 
 "I can't call Miss Plaudit mother, 
 sir; she is not at all like my own 
 mamma, and I have not forgot her." 
 A tear started in my father's eye, 
 which he brushed away, 
 
 " No one who once knew her, ever 
 can forget her. But, indeed, Emma, 
 a widower's family requires a skilful 
 superintendent. Though much the 
 cleverest little girl of your age I
 
 14 
 
 know, you are too young to conduct a 
 large establishment. Hypatia will be 
 your adviser, your directress." 
 
 " Could she not be so, sir, without 
 being your wife ?" A glow of anger 
 reddened his brow. 
 
 " She cannot render me the service 
 my fortune requires, without having 
 full authority. Foolish girl, to agitate 
 yourself thus, when really it is for your 
 sake principally that I take this step. 
 For shame, Emma, you seem to weep 
 faster for my consolatory explanations. 
 See, in your tragic airs, you have broken 
 your pearl bracelet. Cheer up, child, 
 and tell me what sum you will require 
 to fit you out for my nuptials, which 
 will take place in a month ; you shall 
 accompany us to the Lakes, and may 
 come out a year sooner, under the 
 guidance of a chaperone so thoroughly 
 acquainted with the great world as my 
 Hypatia."
 
 15 
 
 I tried to be comforted ; a large sum 
 of money was devoted to my use, and 
 I was allowed to direct the expendi- 
 ture. The marriage took place ; the 
 happy pair departed on their nuptial 
 tour, but the bride thought my deli- 
 cate health would suffer from the heat 
 of the weather, and the rapidity of 
 their movements. I had used to be 
 called a strong healthy girl, but I was 
 told to consider this as another proof 
 of her kind solicitude for my comfort. 
 In the same scale of obligation I was 
 to weigh my being consigned to the 
 care of Mrs. Turnwell, during the 
 honey-moon ; and my new mamma 
 said so much of the pains she had 
 taken to induce my father to consent 
 to this arrangement, that it was not 
 till I found myself neglected, and 
 uncomfortable, in the family of my 
 particular friend, that I cast a regret-
 
 16 
 
 ful sigh towards the banks of Win- 
 dermere. Instead of carpet dances, 
 Italian shades, Punchinello, and the 
 Pandean pipes, which used to welcome 
 my visits to the Turnwells, a hint was 
 given about washing-week, and work- 
 men in the house, with an injunction 
 to make as little work for the servants 
 as possible. From being " the most 
 delightful creature in the world," I 
 changed, even in my brightest moods, 
 into " a good little girl." Clement 
 was no longer called from the count- 
 ing house, to practise with me the 
 new quadrille, and my own particular 
 friend, Lindamira, laughed at my at- 
 tempting to make rice-baskets; and 
 trod on my Italian grey-hound without 
 any apology. Anxiously did I count 
 on returning to my own father's house, 
 and recollected with some degree of 
 consolation, that as my new mamma
 
 17 
 
 always reprobated the Turn wells as 
 vulgar time-servers, she must be 
 pleased to find her own penetration 
 verified, by the account I should give 
 her of their behaviour. 
 
 I intended to be very confidential 
 with my stepmother, but soon found 
 it was impossible. Her embraces were 
 less frequent, her words less kind ; be- 
 sides, all the morning, she was engaged 
 with trades-people, with shopping, or 
 with visitors > and I was left with my 
 masters, to be idle or diligent as the 
 humour prevailed, under the stimulus 
 of being sooner fit to be brought out, 
 or sent to a boarding-school. At din- 
 ner, there was always some humble 
 cousin or dear friend of Mrs. Her- 
 bert's, the best creature in the world, 
 who palled in by accident, ready to 
 frown me into silence, and to echo 
 "Yes, certainly," to all her animadver-
 
 18 
 
 sions on my deficiencies. In the even- 
 ing, there were either " at homes " to 
 be attended to, or parties for some 
 public diversion ; and I was commend- 
 ed to the care of the housekeeper, 
 who gave me an almond-puff, and sent 
 me to bed. For one whole week I 
 sought in vain for an opportunity to 
 complain of the housemaid, who had 
 now no time to tie my frock ; my fa- 
 ther referred me on every occasion to 
 his good wife, and she was too much 
 overwhelmed by the multiplicity of her 
 duties to hear my remonstrances. I 
 had the head-ache, but no one relin- 
 quished her own dinner to sit by my 
 bed-side; I pouted, but every one seem- 
 ed the merrier at my evident dissatis- 
 faction. Tears no longer gained me 
 a supply of pocket-money, and my 
 mimicry of my masters, which was 
 once rapturously encored, was either
 
 19 
 
 received in profound silence, or I was 
 advised to attend less to their singular- 
 ities, and more to their instructions. 
 
 In six months all my perfections 
 vanished, and in six more they be- 
 came converted into crimes ; yet in 
 company my new mamma was held 
 forth as a pattern to all stepmothers. 
 She often called me to her, as I sat 
 neglected in a corner, absorbed by in- 
 expressible anguish, and after kissing 
 me, and wondering why I was so dull, 
 assured her guests, that it was the de- 
 light of her life to oblige me. I won- 
 dered why every thing was so changed, 
 was surprised how I grew ill-natured 
 and naughty, and by what means I 
 lost the good opinion of all my friends. 
 At last, Betty told me one morning, 
 it was all over with me, and I was out 
 of favour, because a fine little brother 
 was come to town. Like most girls
 
 20 
 
 of my age, I had no inherent love for 
 noddling squalling babies ; besides I 
 knew enough to be convinced, that I 
 was now degraded from the important 
 rank of sole heiress to Mr. Herbert, 
 the great West India merchant ; yet, 
 as Betty told me my mamma had been 
 very ill, and that my father was very 
 happy, I thought I ought to appear 
 on the scene of action, and stole into 
 Mrs. Herbert's dressing-room. There 
 I saw my father bending in ecstasies 
 over the cradle, and the nurse exclaim- 
 ing, "The finest little gentleman I ever 
 dressed. Oh ! bless him, my lady's 
 sweet temper I warrant ; and so like 
 you, sir ! See if he don't laugh and 
 crow already at his own dear papa." 
 
 My stealthy step not being per- 
 ceived, I gently took my father's 
 hand, and, as I pressed it to my lips, 
 moistened it with a tear. He started,
 
 21 
 
 looked at me, asked why I was so 
 pale, called me his own poor girl, and 
 suffered my head to fall on his bosom. 
 But the odious nurse recalled me from 
 what I felt was elysium. " Yes, 
 little Master New come, that's your 
 own sister come to welcome you into 
 the world. Dear, oh ! she'll be so fond 
 of you ! There, Miss, feel the weight 
 of him," — dashing a lump of red flesh, 
 enveloped in flannel, into my arms, and 
 equally enjoying my embarrassment 
 and an additional pinch of rappee, 
 during my efforts to adjust the burden 
 to my own comfort and his ease. The 
 babe, till now quiescent, commenced 
 a puling cry. Nurse, darting at me 
 a look of significant horror, snatched 
 him from my arms, and hurried to his 
 mother. My father angrily exclaimed, 
 " Emma, did you hurt the child ?" 
 and hastened after them, while I re-
 
 22 
 
 mained aghast, conscious of having 
 committed another crime, but, as in 
 the former case, ignorant of its na- 
 ture. 
 
 It was, however, of serious conse- 
 quence. Nurse protested, that from 
 that hour the little gentleman dwindled 
 away ; and, indeed, within the month 
 he breathed his last. It was some 
 time ere Mrs. Herbert, whom I now 
 ceased to call mamma, could bear me 
 in her presence ; at last, as an exercise 
 of Christian charity, she called me to 
 the sofa on which she languished in 
 the sublime abstraction of maternal 
 grief, gave me a cold kiss, and told 
 me, she forgave me. My father was 
 always so far my advocate, as to avow 
 his opinion that I did not hurt poor 
 little Peter intentionally, but his re- 
 marks about my being so horridly 
 awkward in every thing I undertook
 
 23 
 
 were more agonising than his lady's 
 benign self-control. The little heir- 
 apparent was now in his coffin, lined 
 with white satin, embedded among 
 geraniums, and sprigs of flowering myr- 
 tle. Yet I was no longer the all- 
 attractive, all-accomplished Miss Her- 
 bert, but suspected of being the most 
 spiteful, treacherous, and selfish, — 
 proved also by experience to be the 
 most awkward of human beings ; and 
 so overlooked, even at my own father's 
 table, as to be grateful to a humble 
 acquaintance for a tap on the cheek 
 or an orange. 
 
 Another and another year passed 
 away, during which I was tormented 
 by masters, screwed and squeezed by 
 corset-makers, flounced and furbished 
 by milliners, and still a hope held out 
 that if I would but take pains with 
 myself I should come out the sooner.
 
 24 
 
 I was now occasionally allowed a seat 
 in Mrs. Herbert's barouche, and a 
 glance at morning exhibitions. At 
 the close of each year, a brother or 
 a sister was successively added to our 
 family ; but, as a prohibition had been 
 issued against my entering the nursery, 
 I saw them without interest or affec- 
 tion. I tried hard to regain my in- 
 fluence with my father during my 
 temporary presidency at the breakfast 
 and dinner-tables, but at the former 
 meal, my insuperable antipathy the 
 nurse, always brought in the baby to 
 visit " its own dear papa ; " and at the 
 latter, Mrs. Herbert's usual host of re- 
 lations, in all their ranks and degrees, 
 from her cousin M 'Bounce to Dr. 
 Squib, effectually prevented a tete-a- 
 tete, and confined me to the business 
 of slicing the fish or ladling out the 
 soup, without the possibility of an in-
 
 25 
 
 quiry beyond " May I help you to 
 any more ?" 
 
 My debut was still delayed. Mrs. 
 Herbert, after her third accouchement 
 was successively feverish, weak, low, lan- 
 guid, nervous, devoted to her nurslings, 
 and at last quite weaned from a vain 
 wicked world. I began to dread that 
 this last obstacle to my chance of es- 
 caping from my present thraldom to 
 a home of my own would be invin- 
 cible ; but with the declining fame 
 of a popular preacher, religion went 
 out of fashion, and the celebrity of 
 a just-imported opera-dancer induced 
 her to take a box, and become the 
 patroness of genius. I happened at 
 this time to be in my best looks ; the 
 season was not prolific in new faces ; 
 it was voted that I should come out, 
 and try if I could strike. I had now 
 no cause to complain of deficient at- 
 
 vol. i. c
 
 26 
 
 tention. We spent the whole morn- 
 ings in driving to different repositories, 
 searching for what was cheap, fashion- 
 able, and becoming. I was initiated in 
 the arcana of angling for hearts, and 
 taught the leading rules which dis- 
 tinguish the stolen glances and half- 
 smothered sighs of an half-pay officer 
 from the stoical stare with which 
 elder brothers take an inventory of 
 the features of reigning belles. I was 
 shown how a marrying man hands you 
 to your carriage, and how a fine man 
 orders it. I was taught to discern the 
 scrutinizing looks of an undecided 
 admirer, and the assiduous nothings 
 with which an undeclared one plies 
 your chaperone. I learned, while 
 practising my opera steps before a 
 glass, the expressive language of looks, 
 the encouraging smile, the repulsive 
 screw, the disdainful toss, the blush of
 
 27 
 
 suppressed consciousness, the sigh of 
 delicacy, and the deep pathos of alarm- 
 ed susceptibility. I learned, too, the 
 whole art of cutting such acquaintance 
 as were of secondary ton, when I hap- 
 pened to be in the suite of people of 
 high fashion, and all the trickeries and 
 condescensions necessary to regain ad- 
 mission to the parties of such acquaint- 
 ance when nothing better offered. I 
 soon caught the unmeaning vocabulary 
 current at routs, spoke with a good 
 accent the word of the day, and re- 
 peated the anecdote of the hour. 
 Curled by Monsieur Hippolite, and 
 dressed by Madame La Blonde, Mrs. 
 Herbert nodded an approval of my 
 appearance, and declared she thought 
 I should take. Like " Kitty, beautiful 
 and young," I had long fancied that 
 the chariot alone was wanting to " set 
 the world on fire," and one auspicious 
 c 2
 
 28 
 
 day I mounted it with a beating 
 heart. 
 
 Alas ! my first ball produced no 
 lover, and scarce a partner. As usual, 
 it was " all my own fault." Mrs. 
 Herbert declared I looked frightfully 
 out of humour. I own I felt mortified, 
 and found it more difficult to practise 
 the simper of satisfaction when neg- 
 lected in a crowded assembly than 
 before my mirror. I was again tried 
 at a city dance, and here the honour 
 of being introduced to me was solicited 
 by two gentlemen of very good cha- 
 racter and brilliant prospects, as my 
 hostess assured me, — Mr. Urban An- 
 gola, head-partner in the great shawl 
 warehouse ; and Mr. Sigismund Fore- 
 close, of Clifford's Inn. But my ear 
 had just been closed to other sounds, by 
 overhearing a tall officer, covered with 
 military orders and decorations, inquire
 
 29 
 
 the name of that fascinating girl with 
 long dark eyelashes. I was sure he 
 meant me, and I was too intent on 
 his conversation to be gracious to the 
 expectant partners whom Mrs. Lemo- 
 nade successively introduced. I saw 
 them select less negligent nymphs, 
 just as I discovered that I was not 
 the fascinating girl with long dark 
 eyelashes, after whom the tall officer 
 covered with military orders and de- 
 corations was inquiring ; for I saw him 
 lead off Lindamira Turnwell, leaving 
 me to count the sticks of my fan and 
 twist my gloves for the rest of the 
 evening, seated between two ancient 
 spinsters, with no other beau than 
 their brother, the pursy deputy of the 
 ward, and his eldest son, at home for 
 the holidays ; at last, having no other 
 prospect, and being ashamed of total 
 inaction, I condescended to guide and 
 c 3
 
 30 
 
 shove this gauche bourgeois through 
 one ill-executed quadrille. 
 
 These and similar failures exhausted 
 Mrs. Herbert's hope of my succeeding 
 in London. I was then tried at Bath, 
 and at Brighton; and was dragged 
 through the routine of the more fa- 
 shionable summer watering-places, both 
 inland and marine. All would not do; 
 my case was regarded as hopeless, and 
 the threat of sending me to my grand- 
 mother was daily repeated ; but first a 
 chance was to be given me in the do- 
 mestic line. I was therefore sent into 
 the nursery, to amuse Petronilla, and 
 to work for the babies. On gala days, 
 too, my services were put in requisition 
 as assistant to the housekeeper, and all 
 our visitants who had marriageable 
 sons, nephews, or brothers, were made 
 acquainted with my housewifely ac- 
 quirements. The frocks so much ad-
 
 31 
 
 mired were all made by me ; it was I 
 w T ho gave the exquisite flavour to the 
 Italian cream, and the delightful bril- 
 liancy to the jelly. Still I had no offer. 
 I well knew that I had been produced 
 at the great public markets, and re- 
 turned not vendible; but many girls 
 were in the same situation, and num- 
 bers conceal disgrace, while they keep 
 one another in countenance ; but to be 
 hawked and rejected as a single remain- 
 ing article at a private auction, was a 
 mortification beyond endurance, and 
 again I was accused of causing the fail- 
 ure, my dreadful temper was engraven in 
 my countenance, and scared away every 
 chance of an admirer. My stepmother 
 could bear it no longer ; all her friends 
 joined in appealing to my father, 
 whether it was just to subject a woman 
 of her superior merit to the espionage 
 and incumbrance of a grown-up girl, 
 c 4
 
 32 
 
 whom no soul would take off her hands. 
 I really must be removed, or the house 
 would be insupportable ; and surely no 
 place could be so proper for my resi- 
 dence as Mrs. Loveday's. 
 
 I did think, (I can scarce say hope), 
 that my father would have objected to 
 giving me up ; but he had become a 
 very altered man, morose, thoughtful, 
 and wayward, not merely to me, but 
 also to his lately-adored wife. He was 
 setting down a number of figures during 
 the attack I have described, and at the 
 conclusion bit his pen, tossed his cal- 
 culation into the fire, and exclaimed, 
 " Yes, she may go ; as she will not pro- 
 cure herself a home, I must try to fix 
 her in one, before — " His countenance 
 grew darker, and he rushed out of the 
 room. I did not think his angry looks 
 pointed peculiarly at me, but I was 
 again accused of putting my father in a
 
 33 
 
 passion, and Mrs. Herbert, wiping a few 
 tender tears, hoped that her life in time 
 would be less miserable. 
 
 A letter was immediately dispatched 
 to Ringrove; and while I waited for the 
 reply, I heard a new word sported in 
 the parlour and scouted in the kitchen : 
 this was Economy. It was decided that 
 my tulle and crepe-lisse dresses, when 
 ironed out and re-edified, would be 
 good enough for the country, that my 
 Leghorn hat would bear cleaning, and 
 even my lilac pelisse admit of turning. 
 These contrivances the servants passed 
 over in sulky silence ; but when the 
 head nurse's application for new sets of 
 clothes was answered by an injunction 
 to repair and re-arrange the old ; when 
 a prohibition was issued against making 
 ham-essence ; when madeira was pro- 
 scribed for culinary uses, and fillets of 
 fowl and almond-soup exploded as too 
 c 5
 
 34 
 
 expensive for family dinners ; when hints 
 were added, that perquisites would be 
 withdrawn, and board-wages reduced, 
 an insurrection took place in the world 
 below stairs, such as in my recollection 
 had never before occurred. The morti- 
 fying reasons for my exile to Ringrove, 
 I should have hailed as an escape from 
 the perpetual reiteration of " Shabby 
 doings!" "Paltry work in a gentleman's 
 family !" and alternate threats, that it 
 was impossible for good servants to stay 
 and be so treated, or that nothing should 
 be saved by this squeezing and pinch- 
 ing. As usual, I was the origin of these 
 misarrangements. My father found 
 that he could not get rid of me, — I was 
 so disagreeable ; — and he was going 
 to make his poor servants suffer, by 
 starving and stinting them, to save a for- 
 tune large enough to buy me a husband. 
 Such was the situation of affairs
 
 35 
 
 when I left my father's house, after an 
 hysterical farewell on the part of Mrs. 
 Herbert, who bitterly lamented her 
 hard fortune at being compelled to 
 make her dear husband's daughter an 
 exile. Her regrets were certainly over- 
 acted, as I saw my father give her an 
 angry glance, and I felt a tear fall on 
 my cheek as he gave me the parting 
 kiss. The chariot was to take me 
 within twenty miles of Ringrove, where 
 it was arranged that my cousin Ellen 
 should meet me. Of her I had heard 
 much ; she was one of the bugbears 
 held out when my offences induced the 
 threat of banishment. I knew that she 
 was a little older than myself, and the 
 only child of my uncle, who fell in the 
 service of his country ; that her mother 
 had deserted her for a second choice, 
 and had a large family, and that my 
 grandmother had brought her up from 
 c 6
 
 36 
 
 her infancy. I was also told that she 
 humoured her in every thing, and most 
 unjustly meant to make her a rich 
 heiress; that she had never been in 
 London, never at school, never had a 
 governess, or any attendant worthy the 
 name of a master; nay, more, had never 
 been at a country assembly, or race- 
 ball, or public watering-place. So 
 many negatives must, I thought, pro- 
 duce an insupportable quiz, and an en- 
 couraging hint was thrown out, that 
 unattractive as I had been proved in 
 polished society, I might supplant the 
 rustic in Mrs. Loveday's good opinion ; 
 or, if she proved singularly docile, I 
 might assume the importance of a tu- 
 toress, and mould her into something a 
 little bearable. I thought also that a 
 retired country village was a new scene, 
 an untried field, where (much as my 
 opinion of my own attractions was
 
 37 
 
 lowered,) I must have a chance of 
 success. I had heard of squires who 
 " made love with nods," and such an 
 one I might chance " to rack," or per- 
 haps appear as a congenial spirit in the 
 eyes of some expatriated Bob Jerom, 
 or seduce some embryo physician, or 
 unsummoned barrister, from flirting 
 with country cousins, or playing tre- 
 drille with a grandmother and maiden 
 aunt. Plans of this kind preserved me 
 from sinking under the weight of my 
 unpopularity, to which, as I could 
 not charge myself with having de- 
 served it, even use had not reconciled 
 me ; nor did I allow my resentment of 
 what I deemed ill usage to be subdued 
 by that parting tear, with which my 
 father had wetted my cheek as he put 
 me in the chariot, and fervently prayed 
 that " God might bless his own dear
 
 38 
 
 girl;" for pride whispered, " whom he 
 ought to have protected !" 
 
 Such thoughts occupied my mind 
 during my lonely journey. At last the 
 chariot drove into the inn-yard, where 
 I was to part with my last acquaint- 
 ance, Jarvis, and encounter none but 
 strange faces. I felt ready to faint as 
 I let down the glass, and enquired for 
 Mrs. Loveday's carriage and servants. 
 " Oh, my dearest Emma, we have been 
 waiting this hour," exclaimed a lively 
 pleasant rustic beauty, dressed in a dark 
 blue habit, her hair a little blouzed, 
 a large bouquet of woodbines stuck in 
 her bosom, and a branch of dog-roses 
 wreathed round her black beaver. 
 "What, are you come alone," continued 
 she, " neither my uncle nor his lady ?" 
 A tear started in my eye ; Ellen threw 
 her kind arms around me ; and staid 
 my tottering steps. "lam concerned
 
 39 
 
 to see you thus affected. I am a 
 thoughtless chattering girl ; but I see 
 the journey has fatigued you. What 
 refreshment shall I order, dearest 
 Emma? How my grandmother will re- 
 joice to have you at Ringrove !" The 
 waiter attended, and I was again urged 
 to name my preferred regale. I ordered 
 maid-of-honour cheesecakes and straw- 
 berry ice. He stood aghast, looking at 
 Ellen. " Any sort of ice," I said, 
 " would do." But no ice could be pro- 
 cured in . " Then orgeat, or lemo- 
 nade." All was still blank. Ellen, sup- 
 pressing a laugh, ordered sandwiches ; 
 and, if oranges could not be procured, 
 a bottle of cyder. 
 
 " I thought," said I, as hunger and 
 thirst drew me to the tray, and even 
 compelled me to relish the vulgar re- 
 gale, " the great advantage of living 
 in the country was, that you could
 
 40 
 
 have every thing ; that you had your 
 own dairies for cream and butter ; that 
 you raised your own fruit and vege- 
 tables, brewed your own beer, baked 
 your own bread, fed your own poultry, 
 killed your own mutton." 
 
 Ellen held up her finger with a look 
 of inexpressible archness : " Yes, and 
 feasted on fat pigs, who gave us no 
 trouble nor expence till they walked 
 into the house, and assured us they 
 were ready roasted. The country 
 does furnish requisites and comforts to 
 those who are provident and vigilant, 
 and the care and contrivance of pro- 
 viding them helps to keep our minds 
 and bodies in perpetual activity." 
 
 " But is not ice a comfort in hot 
 weather? and it astonishes me that 
 none can be procured in this large 
 town." 
 
 " If you point out such a want as
 
 41 
 
 an impeachment of comfort to my 
 grandmother, I fear you will provoke 
 from her a philippic against that vi- 
 tiated taste which attaches import- 
 ance to luxuries." 
 
 " What do you mean by a phi- 
 lippic ?" 
 
 " A lecture, with which she often 
 treats me and my young friends." 
 " What, on optics or chemistry?" 
 " No ; on morals, manners, human 
 nature, and sometimes on religious 
 subjects. They rise out of passing 
 events, and are interspersed with anec- 
 dotes and illustrations." 
 
 " Are they long and formidable ?" 
 " I never think them so ; we gene- 
 rally go on with our work, and are al- 
 lowed, nay, required, to interrupt her, 
 by asking for an explanation or intima- 
 ting our dissent. But if you are suffi- 
 ciently refreshed I must order the
 
 42 
 
 ponies, for you are later than I ex- 
 pected, and I never can bear to give 
 my dear venerable protectress the 
 least uneasiness." 
 
 A low four-wheeled chaise, with one 
 iron grey and one roan poney, now ap- 
 peared, with a rosy-faced grinning 
 foot-boy, distinguished from the sur- 
 rounding rustics by a yellow cape and 
 a silver-laced hat-band. Ellen helped 
 me in, examined the harness, grasped 
 the whip and reins, and placed herself 
 at my side. " Who drives ?" said I, in 
 great terror. 
 
 " I do," said my smiling cousin ; 
 " are you alarmed ? They are the gen- 
 tlest creatures in the world. I often 
 ride Frisk by myself to the post-office, 
 and even my grandmother mounts old 
 Grey, and I lead her round the home- 
 close. Nay, my dear girl, I see you 
 are seriously frightened ! Now, do think
 
 43 
 
 a moment ; reason yourself out of your 
 fears. Would our grandmother, to 
 whom we are both so precious, trust 
 me to bring you to Ringrove, if she did 
 not think I was a safe charioteer ? 
 Well, rather than you should look so 
 piteous, Giles shall borrow a saddle 
 and ride Frisk. Now, Emma, you see 
 we are quite as safe as if we were 
 cased in a sedan-chair." 
 
 Reason myself out of my fears! 
 what a strange doctrine; 'tis like 
 people persuading us not to fall in 
 love. Is not fear constitutional, and 
 do not gentlemen say it renders us, 
 who are called " fair defects in na- 
 ture," more fascinating ? But, evi- 
 dently, Ellen was a very unrefined 
 girl, and off we started. The poney- 
 chaise was intolerable after a town- 
 chariot. We also quitted the turnpike 
 for a cross road, and Giles urged on
 
 44 
 
 the steeds till his violent grimaces 
 and their rapidity alarmed me. " Have 
 you ever driven before ?" I exclaimed. 
 The lad turned round with a broad 
 grin, and said, 
 
 " Drove 'fore-horse at plough, miss, 
 when I was turned seven." 
 
 Every step increased my alarm : 
 " Oh, stop, and let me get out," was 
 my earnest entreaty. 
 
 " My sweet timid coz," said Ellen, 
 " of two evils we must choose the less. 
 You see the sun gets low, there is no 
 moon ; the worst part of our road is to 
 come ; we must walk up Rockstone- 
 hilL Don't mind a little shaking ; 'tis 
 worth all the antibilious nostrums in 
 the dispensary ; only let us try to avoid 
 real dangers." 
 
 I sighed, and endeavoured to rest 
 my pensive head on my arm. What 
 a frightful lonely place, methought,
 
 45 
 
 the country seems, and what a positive, 
 unaccommodating, unfeeling girl is 
 Ellen. No, not absolutely unfeeling 
 neither, for she pitied my neglected 
 situation ; but she has not refinement 
 to sympathise in my fears, wants, and 
 inconveniencies. Threatened with 
 lectures against my indulged tastes 
 and prescribed pursuits, bidden to 
 reason myself out of my natural cha- 
 racter, told that being bandied from 
 side to side in a poney-chaise was 
 wholesome ! I would write to my 
 father, and conjure him, by the tears he 
 shed over me at my quitting his house, 
 to admit me home again, and give me 
 the chance of one more season. No, 
 pride forbade the humiliating and use- 
 less appeal ; but how could I endure a 
 life destitute of all the agreeableness 
 of polished manners, with nothing to 
 interest, nothing to enliven! We at
 
 46 
 
 last arrived at the foot of Rockstone- 
 hill, where I gladly quitted my uneasy 
 position, and begged to be allowed to 
 rest. A woman with two infant child- 
 ren solicited charity. She told a long 
 pathetic tale of sufferings from a cruel 
 landlord, who had turned her husband 
 out of his farm, and left them to starve. 
 I had bestowed my shilling, before 
 Ellen, who had been giving directions 
 to Giles, whispered, " She is an impos- 
 tor :" adding, that on the preceding 
 day she had laid Ringrove under con- 
 tribution with a different story. The 
 woman continued to bless my sweet 
 face and kind heart, and begged I 
 would let her poor tired babies ride in 
 my carriage up the hill. Ellen reluc- 
 tantly assented ; and giving me her 
 arm, intreated me to hurry on and 
 keep close to Giles ; while I, partly 
 from listlessness, partly from the inte-
 
 47 
 
 rest I took in the woman's story and 
 commendations, was very unwilling to 
 attend to her injunctions. 
 
 The carriage gained rapidly on us 
 and was nearly out of call, when a 
 turn in the road, which was here nar- 
 row and shaded by trees, disclosed to 
 our view an ill-looking ruffian, with a 
 heavy bludgeon in his hand, crawling 
 out of a ditch about a hundred yards 
 behind us, between whom and our 
 ragged companion we both perceived 
 signs of recognition. Ellen's conduct 
 was prompt and decisive. She blew a 
 dog-whistle and waved her handker- 
 chief; then, loosening my arm, ex- 
 claimed, — " Fly for your life." I 
 never shall forget the hag's counte- 
 nance as she darted to seize my in- 
 trepid cousin, who, drawing from her 
 pocket what I thought was a pistol, 
 told the wretch her life was forfeited
 
 48 
 
 if she moved one step, thus keeping 
 the enemy at bay till I had cleared 
 enough ground to insure the protec- 
 tion of Giles, who understood his mis- 
 tress's signal and was running toward 
 us. Ellen having secured my safety, 
 trusted her own to her agile limbs, 
 which in two minutes placed her at 
 my side; in another, she helped me 
 into the chaise, now disencumbered of 
 the squalling brood of violence and 
 duplicity, whom Ellen deposited on 
 the fern with more tenderness than 
 their parents' behaviour deserved. The 
 whip and spur were then skilfully ap- 
 plied, and gallant Gray and Frisky 
 Roan soon dragged us to the top of 
 Rock stone-hill, from whose summit 
 Ellen pointed the not distant spire of 
 Ringrove; then, clasping one arm 
 round my neck, she mingled the fond 
 and gratulating embrace with tears. I
 
 49 
 
 need not say how cordially the ca- 
 resses were returned. I called her the 
 preserver of my life ; I lavished en- 
 comiums on her courage and presence 
 of mind. " But do you," said I, " al- 
 ways travel with fire-arms ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Ellen, " and 
 if I did I should be afraid of using 
 them : mine, after all, is but a woman's 
 heart. Look, this is only a telescope 
 
 which I bought at to amuse us. 
 
 Guilt, I know, is ever timid, and I saw 
 no crime in the deception, or my dear 
 grandmother's remembered precepts 
 would have forbade its adoption. Oh, 
 how I rejoice that our lives are pre- 
 served, not only for our own sakes, but 
 for that most excellent woman, whom 
 I may now repay by my needful ser- 
 vices for the cares she lavished on my 
 helpless years ! " 
 
 "She will," said I, "admire your dex- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 
 
 terity ; but let me tell the story, that 
 I may do you justice." 
 
 " Not on any account," replied Ellen. 
 " It can be of no use to excite her 
 apprehensions, and to make her wretch- 
 ed in future, when we happen to be 
 absent, and fearful lest we meet with 
 a similar adventure. And really, though 
 I have galloped about a great deal 
 by myself, it is the first alarm I ever 
 met in our quiet neighbourhood. Do 
 not notice me after tea ; I will step 
 out as if to lock up the poultry, run 
 to the constable, and give him a de- 
 scription of these miscreants, that a 
 hue and cry may be raised which will 
 rid the country of the nuisance. Indeed, 
 Emma, the woman had a knife in her 
 hand ; when she flew toward me I saw 
 it glisten. Shall you ever forget her 
 look?" 
 
 "Never; nor that of the villain who 
 crawled out of the ditch."
 
 51 
 
 u It was truly diabolical," said Ellen ; 
 "our escape has been indeed providen- 
 tial. Let us gratefully remember it in 
 our devotions, till some more singular 
 mercy puts in a fresh claim to our 
 gratitude. But we have now entered 
 the dear little paddock : we must put 
 on merry faces. Yours, I see, will be 
 pale, but it may pass for fatigue. The 
 fears of an old person are very active, 
 and gain strength from a sense of her 
 own infirmities during her many solitary 
 hours. My grandmother will not be 
 able to talk much to you to-night ; but 
 do not from that infer that she does 
 not gladly welcome you to her warm 
 heart. She will think it indecorous 
 to press upon you while all your feel- 
 ings are afloat from leaving your own 
 home and friends, and coming to new 
 scenes and new faces \ she will sit 
 and look at you, and think of your mo- 
 d 2 
 
 LIBRARY — 1' **^ 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 
 
 ther, and you will hear her cough as 
 an apology for the frequent use of her 
 handkerchief. Poor aunt Harriet! I 
 can scarce remember her, but fancy she 
 was the counterpart of my own father, 
 only with darker eyes. Alas! they both 
 died in their eight-and- twentieth year ; 
 but dear, dear grandmamma is to me 
 a more than parent." 
 
 Frisk and Grey now stopped instinct- 
 ively at the garden wicket, which, 
 opened by an elderly woman, admitted 
 me into my future home. " No," said 
 I, as I followed Ellen, " it is impossible 
 to quiz or to rival her ; neither does 
 she need my instructions." 
 
 I was conducted into what went by 
 the different names of the library and 
 the drawing-room, a light cheerful apart- 
 ment, supplied with all that could ac- 
 commodate the lounger, instruct the 
 student, or amuse the dissipated. Two
 
 53 
 
 sides were occupied with well-filled 
 book-cases, and though Ellen was 
 never attended by masters, I saw a 
 harp, a piano, and an apparatus for 
 drawing; there also were a pair of 
 globes, and a small orrery, a work- 
 table, and a chess-board, a back-gam- 
 mon box, and a portfolio of prints, nor 
 were wanting sofas, screens, and foot- 
 stools. Slowly rising from an elbow- 
 chair, and advancing by the assistance 
 of an ivory-headed cane, my venerable 
 grandmother approached. Time had 
 been busy with her since we parted ; 
 but she was a fine ruin, eminently pic- 
 turesque ; her figure was slightly bent, 
 her face " sicklied o'er with the pale 
 cast of thought," and her white hair 
 smoothed into the Madonna bands, 
 with not one errant thread of silver 
 from them. The lace of her mob and 
 frill was crimped with scrupulous exact- 
 
 D 3
 
 54 
 
 ness ; her gown, shawl, and knitting- 
 bag were of one colour, being composed 
 of dark-grey silk ; her spectacles, snuff- 
 box, and books lay on the table beside 
 her, with her watch to note the passing 
 hours, and to witness that they were 
 usefully employed. It could no longer 
 be said, that "grace was in all her 
 steps," for she was slightly lame, and 
 her once vivacious eyes were dimmed; 
 but from them issued benign rays, 
 which beamed of heaven. The silver 
 tones of her voice, and the graceful 
 motion of her hand, realised more of 
 dignity and love than I had ever seen 
 embodied ; and her serene cheerfulness 
 and composed meekness seemed to say, 
 "you may disregard, but you cannot 
 despise me." She resembled, too, my 
 own mother, whose features needed not 
 the memento of her miniature to be 
 indelibly impressed on my recollection.
 
 55 
 
 My spirits were much weakened by 
 mortification and alarm; I sank in- 
 voluntarily on my knees before her, 
 while her hand pressed my head 
 in the attitude of benediction, and 
 her faltering tongue faintly uttered, 
 " Welcome, a thousand times welcome, 
 most precious legacy from my own 
 lost Harriet ! " 
 
 d 4
 
 56 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Not intending to put my readers' pa- 
 tience to trial, by exhibiting two 
 quartos filled with the details of an 
 uneventful life, I will request them 
 to imagine me established in a small, 
 light bed-chamber; and their fancy 
 may also pourtray the routine of our 
 trio breakfasts and dinners. Tea, I 
 found, was the gala repast to which 
 my grandmother admitted her world ; 
 and, greatly to my astonishment, I 
 found the world of Ringrove actuated 
 by the same magnet which moves 
 the world of fashion, and, thanks to 
 " the freedom of the press," enabled 
 to form shrewd guesses of what that 
 great world was about. It is the 
 remark of an adept in the science of
 
 57 
 
 human nature, that " each thinks their 
 little set mankind." The conception 
 I had formed of those who never 
 were seen in the purlieus of fashion- 
 able life was, that they must be peo- 
 ple not worth caring about ; possibly 
 not fools by nature, but very igno- 
 rant, deplorably contracted in their 
 notions, mere vulgar, money-getting 
 creatures ; a race, useful indeed to the 
 money-spenders, but whom they are 
 therefore privileged to despise. Suc- 
 cessors to the maiden aunts, duennas, 
 fathers, and guardians of the old co- 
 medies and novels, and of course as 
 sworn foes to whatever was gay, gal- 
 lant, and agreeable, it was lawful to 
 ridicule, abuse, and deceive them. 
 Such, I thought, every one must be 
 who lived out of the world. The love 
 and awful regard with which Ellen 
 and my grandmother had unwittingly,
 
 58 
 
 perhaps, inspired me, was nourishing a 
 sensation which, from want of defin- 
 ing my own feelings, I called ennui, 
 when Ellen, tripping into my room as 
 I was preparing for dinner, told me she 
 forgot to announce that they were to 
 have an evening party. I doubt not my 
 eyes flashed with delight, for my heart 
 beat ardently — "A party ! who ?" 
 
 She ran over a list of Smiths, Jameses, 
 Browns, Goodenoughs, Hopkinses. 
 
 " Who is your restaurateur ?" 
 
 " Myself." 
 
 " Who furnishes your soups, souffles, 
 jellies, pate, and liqueurs?" 
 
 " Myself." 
 
 " Who lights up, and decorates?" 
 
 " I have done all." 
 
 " Ellen, it is impossible." 
 
 " Yes, while you have been attiring 
 your pretty person ; nay, my dear in- 
 fidel, don't dispute my word ; I trust 
 much to the good services of the fairies -,
 
 59 
 
 they will dispose the imaginations of 
 our guests to eke out my labours, and 
 you shall find my grandmother's rout 
 will give as much pleasure as if the 
 scene of action were Grosvenor Square. 
 But come, Emma, you are quite late 
 with your toilette ; I must officiate 
 also as your tirewoman, or our cold 
 lamb and salad will not be cleared 
 away before Bridget and Giles must 
 appear to arrange our evening regale. 
 I see you want to consult me on the 
 style of your adornings; the very cestus 
 of Venus, if it be in your possession. 
 All the beaux are invited, down to 
 young Compound from Dr. Pompous's. 
 The vicar brings his pupil, the young 
 nabob ; the attorney will introduce 
 his just emancipated clerk ; and our 
 best neighbour, Mrs. Goodenough, has 
 sent to ask, if we can admit her son, 
 the brave midshipman, who is now, I 
 d 6
 
 60 
 
 trust, on the high road to preferment, 
 as his name appeared with eclat in the 
 Gazette. He has arrived unexpectedly 
 at Ringrove." The designation of 
 midshipman, although coupled with 
 gallantry, bore no affinity to the word 
 establishment, which for the last four 
 years had been repeated, till it pre- 
 dominated in my thoughts. A mid- 
 shipman who had appeared in the 
 Gazette must, however, soon become 
 lieutenant. The next rank was that of 
 master and commander; then came 
 post-captain, and post-captains ripened 
 into commodores : admiral was the 
 full maturity of preferment. Good- 
 enough was a pithy, sententious, sig- 
 nificant sort of name ; quaint indeed, 
 but better than Smith, Brown, James, 
 or Hopkins. And so much was said 
 at dinner respecting the hilarity which 
 Frederic's last visit had diffused, that 
 though I had taken unusual pains with
 
 61 
 
 my hair, I thought Ellen's was ad- 
 justed in a more becoming style, and 
 therefore I stole early from the dinner- 
 table, to try if my dress would not 
 admit of a little improvement. 
 
 A party of twenty assembling at the 
 antiquated hour of six, ranged round 
 a room twenty feet square, lighted by 
 six candles, with no ornaments but 
 a few vases of flowers, no attendants 
 but Giles in his yellow cap, and 
 Bridget in her well-saved brown satin 
 gown and stiff* lawn apron, with Ellen 
 herself presiding at the hissing urns, 
 and dispensing their respective bever- 
 age! Was it not difficult for a girl 
 accustomed to a squeeze of hundreds, 
 to wax-lights and gas-lights, to pyra- 
 mids of exotics, to chiffoniers and 
 ottomans, to pan dean pipes and opera 
 singers, to eau de Cologne and otto 
 of roses — was it not, I say, difficult for 
 me to suppress derision and conceal
 
 62 
 
 contempt? Not having studied the 
 philosophy of human nature sufficiently 
 to discover that the germ is the same, 
 however cultivation and aspect may 
 vary its appearance, I was surprised 
 to discover dandies and coquettes in 
 the atmosphere of Ringrove ; to see 
 Miss Smith and Miss Brown make a 
 decided set at the spruce clerk, to 
 hear the apothecary discuss politics 
 and the vicar literature, while the 
 admired Greenwood, who had spent 
 the last year of his clerkship in Lon- 
 don, was absolutely knowing in thea- 
 tricals, and as much an adept in " life'* 
 and its newest language, as a town 
 Corinthian. 
 
 Cards succeeded the tea-table. My 
 grandmother and the seniors arranged 
 for quadrille: politics and the muses 
 gave place to whist ; and Ellen, in the 
 centre of the young party, called for
 
 63 
 
 a decision in favour of commerce, 
 forfeits, music, or walking on the lawn, 
 all of which were tried in succession. 
 At ten, Bridget entered and announced 
 tray. We chatted an hour round the 
 supper table. It took some time to 
 cloak and great coat our guests; a 
 laugh was raised by mutual consent 
 at their transformed figures, the lan- 
 terns were lighted, the foot-boys 
 marshalled, the adieus exchanged, the 
 beaux and belles moved off, some single, 
 some in pairs. Mrs. Goodenough seized 
 the arm of her lingering sailor, and 
 Bridget re-entered with her accustomed 
 burthen of the crimson cushion and 
 prayer-book. By twelve we were all 
 in the dominion of Morpheus. 
 
 Perhaps the pleasantest treat at- 
 tached to a London party is to talk 
 it over afterwards ; and I found this 
 was the case at Ringrove.
 
 64 
 
 " Did you like your evening, 
 Emma?" was Ellen's morning in- 
 quiry. 
 
 " Pret— ty well." 
 
 " I admire the candour of that pret— ty 
 well ; I should have spoken in the same 
 tone of one of your first rate 'at homes/ 
 from not caring about strangers." 
 
 " But are your neighbours worth 
 knowing ?" said I. 
 
 " As much, if I may trust report, as 
 your general runs of Sir Johns and 
 Lady Marys. They have the same 
 organic senses, as much natural power 
 of reflection, and my grandmother 
 would add, their immortal spirits and 
 immortal hopes are derived from the 
 same origin, and inculcate the same 
 duties." 
 
 " Well, but my dear Ellen, were 
 they to live a thousand years, the world 
 would never know that these people 
 ever existed."
 
 65 
 
 " Not even if they commit some 
 gross extravagance or enormous crime ? 
 Let us suppose Mr. Greenwood mar- 
 ried to Miss Brown, and cherishing a 
 tenderness (I think it is called) for 
 Kitty Smith, then killed in a duel by 
 Dick Smith her brother ; Kitty taking 
 poison, and Mrs. Greenwood dying of 
 a broken heart; would they not in- 
 stantly become very interesting people? 
 and is it the enviable circumstance 
 of their not being stamped by gross 
 crime or heavy misfortune that makes 
 them so little worthy an inquiry into 
 their character and history ?" 
 
 " My love," said my grandmother, 
 " you are misleading Emma. I do 
 not like to have crime described as a 
 prime source of celebrity. It can only 
 fall to the lot of few to become objects 
 of constant observation like cities set 
 upon hills ; and when we consider how
 
 66 
 
 ill constituted we are from infirmity 
 and error to endure continual remark, 
 let us be content, as Pericles advised 
 the Athenian women, to glide unob- 
 served through life, and to think it 
 our best distinction not to be talked of." 
 
 Ellen bowed with a smile of delight, 
 as was her custom, when Mrs. Loveday 
 favoured us with her sentiments. " I 
 am only endeavouring," said she, " to 
 rescue our village circle from the re- 
 proach of being quite uninteresting. 
 It is very plain that Mary Brown in- 
 tends to become Mrs. Greenwood, and 
 Kitty Smith's blue eyes indicate oppo- 
 sition to that scheme. Now they are 
 both very good girls, and my friends 
 and play-fellows, and should I not 
 also project a scheme to prevent their 
 unfortunately succeeding ?" 
 
 " Would it," inquired I, " be a bad 
 establishment ?"
 
 67 
 
 " It would be called otherwise," 
 said my grandmother. "He is the 
 only son of a wealthy indulgent father ; 
 but what shall we say of the judgment 
 of a man who, visiting the first city 
 in the world, the emporium of com- 
 merce, science, art, and taste, claims 
 distinction in his own neighbourhood 
 for having acquired only its disgrace- 
 ful absurdities?" 
 
 " Do you," I inquired of Ellen, 
 a little alarmed lest my grandmother's 
 looks portended the lectures of which 
 I had been forewarned, " think the 
 attachment of your friends serious ?" 
 
 " I do not apprehend a stabbing 
 scene, or an application to laudanum. 
 Happily they have too many occupa- 
 tions to become desperate : Mary 
 Brown acts as governess to her younger 
 sisters, and Kitty Smith must superin- 
 tend her brother's large dairy and
 
 68 
 
 extensive poultry-yard. They cannot 
 loll in an arbour, meditating how 
 elegantly Mr. Greenwood carved the 
 apple-pie, or arranged their plaids." 
 
 " Labour was enjoined in mercy to 
 fallen man," remarked my grand- 
 mother. " I refer half the crimes 
 which are committed by the higher 
 orders of society to the misfortune of 
 being masters of their own time with- 
 out any imperative occupation which 
 should withdraw their thoughts from 
 the studious gratification of the fostered 
 passions of pampered voluptuousness, 
 or the fastidious caprices of listless 
 ennui. The man of fashion would 
 be as moral as the ploughman, if he 
 rose as early, fared as hard, and toiled 
 as assiduously. The great lady would 
 have as few imaginary troubles as the 
 farmer's wife, if her head and hands 
 were as diligently employed in looking
 
 69 
 
 to the ways of her family, and making 
 the most of every thing." 
 
 Mortified at seeing people whose 
 importance in society was so dissimilar, 
 brought into comparison, I decided 
 that my grandmother was in her heart 
 a rank democrat. But not having 
 acquired the courage which Ellen 
 practised and recommended, of con- 
 travening her opinions, I led back 
 the conversation to our last night's 
 party. We soon agreed that the young 
 ladies w r ere very well dressed, Mr. 
 James was very sensible, and Mr. Hop- 
 kins a man of information. I ma- 
 noeuvred to introduce the young officer; 
 Ellen was silent ; my grandmother pro- 
 nounced him a noble youth. " Was 
 he too besieged, like young Green- 
 wood?" Mrs. Loveday observed he was 
 not a marrying man. All was again 
 hushed, till Ellen emptied the sugar
 
 70 
 
 into the slop-basin, and laughed, and 
 coloured at her strange mistake. 
 
 "But," I asked, "which was the 
 nabob, Mr. James's pupil ? " 
 
 "Did not you see him, Emma? a 
 silent young man, whom they called 
 Henry. If I may judge by the direc- 
 tion of his green spectacles, he was 
 looking at you the whole evening." 
 
 My grandmother seemed displeased 
 with her darling girl. I learned after- 
 wards, she had already discovered my 
 foible, and would tolerate no jest that 
 fostered it. " Personal defects, M said 
 she, " are sacred from ridicule ; and 
 you know Mr. Delmont's situation too 
 well to mislead your cousin. He is not 
 sent to Ringrove to form a matrimonial 
 connection, or to delude thoughtless 
 girls with hopes that cannot be real- 
 ised. His fortune is dubious ; his views 
 undeterminate. He comes to acquire 
 20
 
 71 
 
 all the insight into every species of 
 recondite and polite learning, which an 
 intelligent tutor can communicate, and 
 a life of privacy allow. His lot is pecu- 
 liar, and the more pitiable, as it admits 
 no determinate direction of character. 
 He may possess immense wealth, or be 
 compelled to depend on his own exer- 
 tions, and to look to his father's fortune 
 only as the source from which he has 
 procured a superior education, and the 
 means of fitting him for the arena of 
 public life. And though General Re- 
 pell's attachment to his illegitimate son 
 may induce the friends of this very 
 amiable young man to hope he will 
 act honourably, no reliance can be 
 placed on one who, in his prime of 
 being, broke through the fundamental 
 laws of human society, to gratify 
 the selfishness of licentious appetite, 
 and who, in declining life, may, from a 
 similar motive, be induced to form what
 
 72 
 
 he would call a virtuous connection 
 with some aspiring, portionless girl, 
 whom his splendour may allure to en- 
 dure for a few years age, ill-temper, 
 and disease. Think you poor Henry 
 would be an impediment to such an 
 union, any more than the claims of his 
 own lawful heirs were to giving him 
 existence, should such an inclination 
 predominate in the general's mind? 
 Or would the world condemn any 
 gentleman burthened with dependent 
 daughters meeting his wishes? Nay, 
 would the girls themselves hesitate to 
 become the wife and the mother of 
 nabobs ? If, from the details of bridal 
 splendour, the attention of our good 
 gossips was diverted to the deserted 
 son, should we not be reminded that 
 he had no legal claim ; that his father 
 always bade him trust to his own ex- 
 ertions, and build up a fortune, as he 
 had done ? Perhaps, too, that piety
 
 73 
 
 which excludes brotherly kindness 
 from its catalogue of virtues, would 
 talk of the sins of his mother being 
 visited upon him. Believe me, girls, 
 Henry has other employment for his 
 thoughts than to analyse your fea- 
 tures." 
 
 " Indeed, grandmamma," exclaimed 
 Ellen, " you judge your sex too harshly, 
 if you suppose such a man as General 
 Repell may toss his handkerchief 
 among a groupe of kneeling sultanas, 
 and select whom he pleases. For my 
 own part, I so abominate his whole 
 character, that I declare I will angle 
 for his attention, next time I am in 
 his company, and if I can persuade 
 him to fall in love with me, I will 
 cajole him to make a liberal settlement 
 on Henry, and then leave him to wear 
 the willow, and be an object of uni- 
 versal ridicule." 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 
 
 " 'Tis an ingenious plan," replied 
 Mrs. Loved ay, cC and bespeaks a heart 
 not fully aware of its own intricacies, 
 and a head not deeply practised in 
 life's subtle game. You know Ha- 
 zael's history, Ellen. Be well assured 
 that you are better acquainted with 
 yourself, than the Syrian soldier, be- 
 fore you angle to entrap the master of 
 Orissa Park, lest, while prosecuting 
 your design, a thought should arise of 
 the great good you might have it in 
 your power to achieve by becoming its 
 mistress. You are in a playful mood, 
 my child, or I should gravely say, that 
 as our prayers are also precepts, those 
 who pray against being led into tempta- 
 tion must not court trials. But to return 
 to young Delmont; whatever maybe his 
 fate, he will owe to the paternal care 
 of Mr. James that basis of all solid satis- 
 faction, a well-regulated mind. He
 
 75 
 
 is not uii instructed concerning the dif- 
 ficulties in which he is involved, from 
 the precariousness of his hopes, and 
 the ominous aspect of that prosperity 
 which depends upon unprincipled ca- 
 price. Nothing is concealed, through 
 a dread of clouding the bright visions 
 of youth ; and the world, into which he 
 is about to enter, is shown to him 
 under its contrary aspects. His visits 
 to Orissa Park familiarise him with 
 the habits of luxurious gratification, and 
 show him their consequent punish- 
 ments, — disease and discontent. In the 
 court which is there paid to him by in- 
 terested hangers-on and servile depend- 
 ents, he reads the projects of sycophants 
 who contemplate a future patron. Not 
 one of the time-servers who crowd 1 the 
 General's table has courage to inter- 
 fere in behalf of his equivocal heir, 
 when the querulousness of disease or 
 
 E °Z
 
 76 
 
 caprice sends him into temporary ba- 
 nishment ; or the address of some ma- 
 tronly lady, or the smile of some 
 young one, whisper the possibility of a 
 matrimonial engagement. Henry re- 
 turns to the vicarage, ostensibly to 
 improve in the eastern languages, 
 and the study of jurisprudence. I 
 doubt not of his progress, for Mr. 
 James's capacity as an instructor is 
 acknowledged by our first orientalists 
 and civilians. Of this I cannot judge ; 
 but I know that still more important 
 knowledge is imparted by his revered 
 tutor, by unobtrusive lessons, and not 
 with dictatorial pomp. Our young 
 friend sees the influence of true religion, 
 in the mild, ingenuous, simple manners 
 of the family. He clings to a friendship 
 that is unostentatious, equable, prompt, 
 and sincere. He knows that his charac- 
 ter and interests will be supported ; his
 
 77 
 
 faults reproved ; his doubts obviated ; 
 his understanding enlightened ; his 
 good intentions confirmed ; his sor- 
 rows not merely soothed by sympathy, 
 but relieved by judicious assistance. 
 It is a good trait in Henry's character, 
 that he is disgusted with the full 
 courses and removes of his father's 
 table, and recovers health and appe- 
 tite under the auspices of his tutor." 
 
 Ellen lamented that he did not look 
 a little like other young men, and 
 seem more at ease in general society. 
 
 " True, my dear, " said Mrs. Love- 
 day, " but we cannot create graces 
 which nature has withheld. His slen- 
 der form, sallow complexion, and defec- 
 tive vision, would only be made more 
 conspicuous by the fluttering manners 
 of a beau ; and it would be wrong to 
 encourage him, who may become pos- 
 sessed of ten thousand a year, to fly 
 e 3
 
 78 
 
 round the room after the stray gloves 
 and reticules of slatternly girls. His ab- 
 stracted, retiring manner may proceed 
 from a mind pre-occupiecl by severe 
 studies, or from a consciousness that 
 he is probably but a weft of fortune, 
 or perhaps from some undisclosed sor- 
 row. Or they may result from Mr. 
 James's prudential cautions, who knows 
 that Henry does not need the addi- 
 tional misery of a premature, ill-placed 
 attachment. I have often conversed 
 with him, and can speak highly of his 
 general good sense and right feeling. 
 You laugh, girls; but, believe me, if the 
 rage for converting all the young men 
 you meet into lovers and husbands 
 goes much further, you will find the 
 whole race, like our young nabob, 
 glad to fly to us old women for sanc- 
 tuary against the attacks of young 
 ones. Unobserving as you suppose
 
 79 
 
 him, he sees there are girls who would 
 gladly take him for better and for 
 worse, and incur with him the chance 
 of grandeur or beggary ; as he knows 
 there are Jews, who would, at cent per 
 cent premium, supply him with money, 
 to run the career of vice, and to be- 
 come bankrupt in health, pocket, and 
 peace, before the time when any laws, 
 except those of false honour, authorize 
 young men to sanction the nefarious 
 engagement ; and, perhaps, he is not 
 wrong, if he sets an equal value on 
 the principles of both parties." 
 
 Grandmothers will assert opinions, 
 and girls will retain their own. I 
 had never heard husband-hunting con- 
 sidered to be disgraceful, but, on the 
 contrary, regarded it as deserving to 
 be styled a feminine employment, quite 
 as fairly as the prey pursued in that 
 amusement merit the appellation of 
 e 4
 
 80 
 
 Nimrods. Here were three chances 
 of an establishment, all prohibited ; the 
 officer, the young nabob, and his fa- 
 ther. I could not help asking Ellen, 
 when we were alone, what made my 
 grandmother so cross. She looked 
 surprised, repeated my question, and 
 assured me she was never out of hu- 
 mour in her life. " Is she not," said 
 I, " very severe, and uncandid to her 
 own sex ? " 
 
 " Quite the contrary ; she is most 
 sensitively jealous for our true in- 
 terest and honour. Nothing pains her 
 so much, as to see a young woman 
 degrade herself, by appearing to entice 
 a man into providing for her mainte- 
 nance; unless it is when she has 
 succeeded in her scheme, to find her 
 disavowing Eve's original character of 
 helpmate, and throwing herself upon 
 her husband as a dead weight in his
 
 81 
 
 scale of expence, or it may be an 
 incitement and excuse for his com- 
 mitting base acts of injustice and 
 speculation. Perhaps you will smile 
 at what you will deem the frivolous 
 minutiae to which her zeal to induce 
 women to resume the simple, active, 
 independent habits of former times 
 makes her descend ; for she humor- 
 ously checks the officious interference 
 which supposes a girl incapable of 
 using her own hands, or exercising her 
 own understanding. Ladies must not 
 be troubled to do the honours of their 
 own tables. The fatigue of serving 
 out tea is too great for their delicacy ; 
 their wants and wishes must be anti- 
 cipated, by the offer of bringing them 
 whatever they look at. We are too 
 feeble to walk without support ; too 
 charming to receive an explicit answer 
 to a rational enquiry ; too exquisitely 
 e 5
 
 S<2 
 
 attractive to manage our own affairs -, 
 in fine, fit for nothing but to be flat- 
 tered, deceived, and ridiculed. ' But, 
 beware, girls, beware,' my grand- 
 mother will say, and her dear face will 
 shine with intelligence, * beware of 
 the lover, who offers to carry your 
 nosebag, (vide Waverly) indicating a 
 hope that he will in future submit 
 his nasal organ to your guidance. — 
 ■ Tis first a kneeling slave, and then a 
 tyrant.' " 
 
 I could not avoid smiling at Ellen's 
 delineations ; and recollected being 
 forcibly struck with a sense of the 
 ridiculous, by a lady's describing her 
 first introduction to an eminent states- 
 man in a large party. "He entered 
 the room," said she, " with his wife's 
 reticule hanging on his arm." 
 
 " We shall hear more on the sub- 
 ject this evening, I dare say," said
 
 83 
 
 Ellen, " for the James's come : I will 
 give the cue, and we shall either be 
 treated with a lecture or a conversa- 
 tion. You will be amused, I dare 
 not say converted, by the different 
 views of life which are imparted by 
 different habits of society." 
 
 e 6
 
 84 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The James's arrived, but without 
 their pupil, respecting whom I cer- 
 tainly did feel an interest, maugre the 
 efforts of Ellen and my grandmother. 
 It was, however, divided between the 
 old general and the gallant midship- 
 man. What girl of twenty-one, taught 
 as I had been, would avoid thinking 
 that there were two methods of se- 
 curing ten thousand a year in my 
 neighbourhood, and a dim prospective 
 view of the glory of becoming an 
 admiral's lady ? And though my grand- 
 mother reprobated husband-hunting, 
 only look at my situation. No alter- 
 native, but rusticating at Ringrove, 
 or again encountering the mortifica-
 
 85 
 
 tions of my father's family — even if 
 that were possible. 
 
 Of all the people I had ever met, the 
 James's appeared least propitious as 
 abettors of my designs. They were of 
 a middle-age, sensible, well informed, 
 very simple yet elegant in their man- 
 ners, and apparently very conscien- 
 tious. They had neither sons, nephews, 
 nor brothers, and, though well ac- 
 quainted with the gay world, seemed 
 pleased to withdraw from its influence. 
 General Repell appeared to have sent 
 his son to them, that he might ripen 
 into manhood in safe seclusion from 
 all annoyance. 
 
 But yet, the presumptive heir of 
 ten thousand a year was their inmate, 
 and suppose I could impress them with 
 the idea that I was a very fascinating 
 no, that was not the appro- 
 priate term, — a very amiable, unde-
 
 86 
 
 signing girl, in whose company Henry 
 would be safe ; or, if he shyed off, 
 could I not, through the James's, get 
 a glimpse of the general ? 
 
 While Ellen encountered, unassisted, 
 the fatigues of the tea-table, in honour 
 of which Mr. James promised her a 
 commendatory Pindaric, the politics 
 of the village were discussed, consisting 
 chiefly of narratives respecting the 
 sick and the unfortunate. The work 
 and the card-tables were set; but the 
 attraction of tredrille yielded to con- 
 versation, and, as preparatory to a 
 general engagement, the James's named 
 a summons which Henry had received 
 to Orissa Park. I sat next the vicar's 
 lady, and with an air of nonchalance 
 I avowed my opinion that he was a 
 very interesting young man. Mrs. 
 James bowed. " I am indeed," said she, 
 " flattered that our dear child, for so
 
 87 
 
 we fondly call him, should thus excite 
 your solicitude. It does honour to 
 your penetration, Miss Herbert, be- 
 cause, in general, he is overlooked in a 
 mixed society." 
 
 " You will hear w r ith concern, Mrs. 
 Loveday," said Mr. James, " that we 
 are going to lose him. I fear his 
 destination is fixed for India, from 
 whence his delicate health precludes al- 
 most the hope of his return. I strove 
 hard to persuade the general to enter 
 him of Lincoln's Inn, to which his own 
 wishes pointed ; but a further removal 
 best suits his father's present views, 
 so he is destined to the judicial de- 
 partment in Bombay." 
 
 A tear shone in my grandmother's 
 eye, and Ellen's caught the infection. 
 " Poor Henry !" was the universal 
 exclamation. " Is the general, then, 
 again preparing to put on Hymen's fet-
 
 88 
 
 ters ? Who is the favoured lady ?" — 
 " The victim/' observed Mrs. James. 
 " The Circe," said my grandmother. 
 " Ladies, you grow censorious," 
 observed the vicar. " My cloth pro- 
 scribes slander, but tolerates the belles- 
 lettres." The senior ladies applied to 
 their knitting, Ellen drew out her 
 drawer of cottage baby-clothes, and 
 I had recourse to tatting, which I had 
 just learnt, in order to avoid the sin- 
 gularity and opprobrium of being un- 
 employed. Mr. James arranged on the 
 table the works of a noble bard, which 
 will co-exist with our language, and be 
 regarded as at once its pride and 
 reproach. He read to us the powerful 
 opening of Lara, dwelling with em- 
 phasis on those characteristic lines — 
 
 " Left by his sire too young, such loss to know, 
 " Lord of himself: — that heritage of woe."
 
 89 
 
 "Lord Byron," said my grandmother, 
 " always makes me angry with myself, 
 by compelling me to admire what I 
 cannot approve. More talent, whether 
 evinced in command of language, dis- 
 crimination of character, or verisimi- 
 litude of description, our literature 
 cannot produce. There is a deep 
 condensation of thought, an appro- 
 priateness of diction, an elegance of 
 sentiment, and an original glow of 
 poetical imagery ; ever happy in illus- 
 trating objects, or deepening impres- 
 sions ; — which so fascinate our fancy 
 and bewilder our judgment, that we 
 lose sight of the nature of the deeds 
 he narrates, and the real character of 
 the actors. He is alike exact and 
 vigorous, whether he describes ani- 
 mated or inanimate nature, or delineates 
 the human heart as far as he allowed 
 himself to probe its moral anatomy.
 
 90 
 
 " But," said Mr. James, " what has 
 he given us as an epitome of man ? 
 Even his greatest admirers complain of 
 the uniformity of his portraits; and the 
 sullen, revengeful, mysterious Giaour, 
 the haughty Corsair, the assassinating 
 Lara, the deistical, moody, querulous 
 Childe Harold, are all the direct op- 
 posites of what Christianity bids us 
 imitate, or self-love teaches us to select 
 for our friends. His heroes, uniformly, 
 are either nursing some diabolical de- 
 sign, or writhing under some undis- 
 closed guilt, while he contrives to 
 invest them with the shadowy greatness 
 which Milton bestows on his fallen 
 angels ; but, by omitting to adopt the 
 reprobating stigma which the bard of 
 Eden affixed to all that ' was false and 
 hollow,' he compels us to admire what 
 we ought to hate, and endangers our 
 adoption of the ' worse instead of the
 
 91 
 
 better counsel.' Nay, further ; the 
 description is so forcible, the sophistry 
 of ornament so alluring, that we are, I 
 trust, mistakenly induced to believe 
 him the man he describes, and to con- 
 found the poet with the phantoms he 
 has created ; yet when I look at the 
 fortuitous circumstances which threw 
 him into the arms of flattery and dis- 
 sipation, which exposed him to the 
 blandishments of needy profligates, 
 whose meretricious genius, though but 
 the pale reflex of his own bright sun, 
 flattered his vanity, by appearing to 
 revolve in his vortex ; - — when 1 con- 
 sider that a few slight coincidences, a 
 little command of temper, or absence 
 of exasperation, might have turned this 
 mighty sea of intellect into a different 
 course, and made the name of Byron 
 as dear to loyalty, morality, and re- 
 ligion, as it is now adverse, my con-
 
 92 
 
 sciousness of human infirmity and re- 
 verence for the mysterious workings of 
 Providence turn indignation into grief." 
 My grandmother resumed her re- 
 marks, saying, that "though she ad- 
 mitted and condemned the noble poet's 
 faulty elevation of savage magna- 
 nimity and unbridled passion into he- 
 roism, it was chiefly on account of 
 his female characters that she lamented 
 the influence which his school of 
 poetry had obtained. The present 
 age is too enlightened and humane 
 to allow the indulgence of a san- 
 guinary spirit : the fatalist is despised, 
 and the misanthrope torments not 
 the world which he abjures. If such 
 characters exist, the evil is limited 
 to their own families ; they are too 
 odious or absurd for imitation. But 
 the model on which he forms his he- 
 roines has unhappily acquired some
 
 93 
 
 specious sanction, from the prevalent 
 habits of refined society. I allude to 
 the low estimate of our intellectual 
 and moral qualities, and to the predo- 
 minant importance which is annexed 
 to beauty, and to those external attrac- 
 tions which render us the toy rather 
 than the companion and helpmate of 
 man. Our Gothic ancestors always 
 recognized the equal rights of the 
 gentler sex, and treated them as the 
 daughters, sisters, wives, and mothers 
 of heroes and legislators ; and our early 
 history records many striking instances 
 of noble dames, who, on great emer- 
 gencies, acted with a dignity and 
 wisdom which rendered them worthy 
 representatives of their absent lords. 
 Consider the women of the age of Eli- 
 zabeth, at least what they wished to 
 be thought by the style of encomium 
 to which their admirers resorted ; look
 
 94 
 
 at their fortitude, prudence, delicacy, 
 domestic habits, their industry, studi- 
 ousness, and economy. Turn then to 
 the woman of Byron's poetry, and that 
 of his imitators, and see if you can 
 discern the British or the Christian 
 lady, conscious of responsibility, and 
 aspiring to honourable renown in this 
 life, and immortality in that which is 
 to come. No : the prototype must be 
 found in the harem queen, or volup- 
 tuous dancing-girl, the exciter of ani- 
 mal passions, the slave, the tyrant, the 
 victim, and the assassin of man." 
 
 Mr. James admitted, that the re- 
 straints of law and public opinion 
 curbed the ferocious passions, which 
 the exciting character of polite liter- 
 ature has for some years tended to 
 generate, and prevented them from 
 breaking out into those violent acts 
 which endanger the welfare of the
 
 95 
 
 state ; yet in retirement, where men 
 do not always deem it necessary to 
 speak and act as gentlemen, he be- 
 lieved that much distress was caused 
 by a probably unconscious imitation of 
 these high-wrought creatures of ima- 
 gination, acting from impetuous feeling, 
 yet still preserving some semblance of 
 virtue, and forming a strange combin- 
 ation of the hero and the ruffian. 
 " Many an innocent heart," he added, 
 " must also lament that excessive re- 
 finement, that invidious and tortuous 
 scrutiny, which affixes meanings (and 
 generally bad ones) to words and actions 
 really casual and irreproachable. To 
 the vague surmises of this fastidious 
 humour, many a woman owes the loss 
 of her reputation and her peace ; nay, 
 instances have not been wanting in 
 which a gloomy temper and fervid 
 imagination, heated by the narration
 
 96 
 
 of some dreadful paroxysm of passion, 
 some dire catastrophe, accelerated by 
 jealousy, revenge, or love, have madly 
 realized the tragic fiction in their own 
 family, and taken on themselves the 
 part of chief actors. To such men," 
 said he, " the quiet connubial tete-a- 
 t£te is insupportable. Their minds 
 stagnate in domestic peace ; the high 
 excitements of quarrels and reconcili- 
 ations, estrangements and re-unions, 
 the alternate sarcasms of reproach and 
 the whisperings of endearment, become 
 as necessary as are storms and tempests 
 to purify the atmosphere. I must, 
 therefore, retain my opinion, that much 
 evil originates from giving the attrac- 
 tion of poetical embellishment to violent 
 passions, and thus increasing the ex- 
 citement of over-sensitive minds. With 
 frenzied speed they pursue unattain- 
 able bliss, and suicide is the goal."
 
 97 
 
 Mrs. James led back the conversation 
 to Lord Byron's females, by observing, 
 " that there was one contrast to his 
 Leilas, his Zoes, his Gulnares, and his 
 Parisinas." 
 
 " If you speak of Medora," said 
 my grandmother, " admirable as is 
 the painting of her love, anguish, 
 and death, still she only appears as 
 a doating wife, and presents no idea 
 beyond exquisite beauty, softness, 
 and tenderness. In heart and soul 
 she is devoted to one whose crimes 
 and cruelties must be known to her, 
 and which, if not dead to moral prin- 
 ciple, she must reprobate ; yet, in her 
 dissuasives against his piratical pursuits, 
 she urges their danger, not their guilt ; 
 she avows her terrors for his safety, but 
 no horror at the accumulation of his 
 crimes. We rather pity than admire 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 
 
 the love which has no solid basis to 
 rest on." 
 
 " I did not mean Medora, my dear 
 Mrs. Loveday," replied our guest ; 
 " and allow me for once to triumph 
 over your very comprehensive me- 
 mory, by bringing forward a defensive 
 illustration of an author, whose per- 
 verted talents are a constant theme for 
 my regrets, and whose ultimate return 
 to the best feelings of the man, the 
 patriot, and the Christian, I still fondly 
 anticipate. The character I had in my 
 eye is Angiola, in the tragedy of The 
 Doge. In ordinary life a young woman 
 married to an old man is considered 
 as a fair prize to the libertine ; and in 
 poetry, comedy, and fiction, she is held 
 up either as interested, unchaste, or 
 intriguing. Byron has contrived to 
 invest this hazardous connection with 
 respectability, and, though he does not
 
 99 
 
 so far outrage human nature as to pre- 
 serve the old husband from the torment 
 of (I won't say jealousy, but) painful 
 anxiety for his domestic purity, yet, 
 by making the lady, with quiet dignity, 
 request that she may be intrusted with 
 the preservation of her own good name, 
 and live down the reproaches of her 
 slanderers, to whom her steady un- 
 ostentatious perseverance in rectitude 
 would be sufficient punishment, he 
 represents her as pursuing the very 
 path which the best of your Elizabethan 
 dames, with all their deep learning and 
 high sense of decorum, would have 
 deemed most truly feminine. Angiola 
 knows that chastity, like all other fe- 
 male virtues, is unobtrusive." 
 
 Ellen gently clapped her hands in ap- 
 plause, and Mr. James looked round, 
 and then bestowed on the speaker that
 
 100 
 
 glance of proud approbation, by which 
 a partial husband condescendingly 
 seems to say, " I chose this woman 
 for my wife." 
 
 My grandmother, with the smile of 
 corrected humility, bowed in acqui- 
 escence to her friend's rebuke ; but 
 lamented this fresh evidence, that the 
 taste of the public was vitiated, since 
 the poem containing this only correct 
 delineation of woman, as the faithful 
 friend of man, the steady guardian of 
 his honour and her own, not the un- 
 reflecting victim of sensual appetites, 
 or the slave of impetuous passion, was 
 among the least popular of this noble- 
 man's productions. 
 
 Mr. James observed, " that ladies 
 must now be very fastidious if they 
 were dissatisfied with the homage they 
 received ; — an homage, he ventured 
 to say, more reverential than had ever
 
 101 
 
 been paid, even in the famous days of 
 knight-errantry and chivalry. 
 
 " Yes," says my grandmother, 
 " only that it is as perfectly panto- 
 mimic and fictitious as the deference 
 rendered to the baby king and queen 
 on twelfth night. You do indeed 
 humour our frivolities, and pet us 
 into caprice. In the days you men- 
 tion, we inspired and directed the 
 arduous toil of heroes, and, in the 
 absence of our lords, defended castles, 
 led armies, and fortified cities. The 
 hero wounded in defence of the su- 
 perior beauty of the lady of his love, 
 always expected to have her for his 
 chirurgeon, and a scarf purfled by the 
 hand of a fair princess was as much an 
 object of contention as her father's 
 crown. But now," noticing an at- 
 tempt of Mr. James to assist Ellen, 
 " we are too weak to pile logs on the 
 f 3
 
 102 
 
 hearth, and too awkward to snuff our 
 own candles. Do, dear madam," ad- 
 dressing Mrs. James, " reprove your 
 husband for abdicating the dignity of 
 his own character, and forgetting that 
 my standard of good breeding is as 
 high as Lord Arbury's, who, I have 
 heard you say, always deemed officious- 
 ness the criterion by which he judged 
 of the manners of his company. Pray, 
 reverend sir, fancy yourself in the 
 earl's saloon, and my grand-daughter 
 Lady Charlotte." 
 
 The good vicar fell into the vein of 
 badinage in which he saw his hostess 
 inclined to indulge, and relinquishing 
 nis minor gallantries with the shrug of 
 a reproved school-boy, still insisted 
 that the prominent feature of the age 
 was the devotion which man paid to 
 the fair. " Not only,' 5 said he, " does 
 the press teem with the incense which
 
 108 
 
 poets, moralists, novelists, and sages 
 offer you, but every aspirant to public 
 favour founds his reputation on being 
 the champion of the ladies. Compli- 
 ments to the fair sex are the general 
 resource of the dramatist when his 
 muse is at fault, and they prove as 
 successful clap-traps as British freedom, 
 or the martial glories of England. The 
 divine scruples not to address you 
 from the pulpit, as the all-efficient 
 stimulators to the distribution of spi- 
 ritual and temporal blessings, in the 
 abodes of ignorance and poverty. 
 Nay, even the seat of Themis is trans- 
 formed by the spell of your fasci- 
 nations, into a parliament of love, and 
 the coifed Serjeant talks as a sighing 
 troubadour ; tears stream down the iron 
 cheeks of grey-headed advocates, (at 
 least affect to stream) while, beating 
 their bosoms and waving their briefs, 
 f 4
 
 104 
 
 they appeal to the alarmed jury, con- 
 juring them, as sons, brothers, hus- 
 bands, and fathers, to give ample 
 damages to some simpering bar-maid 
 who has produced a child of love to 
 the exciseman, or failed in inveigling 
 some superannuated batchelor who 
 had sought relief from the espionage 
 of nephews and nieces in the sanc- 
 tuary of a tap-room : or perhaps a still 
 stronger case awakens the thunder of 
 our Demosthenes', calling on them to 
 inveigh against base seducers, invaders 
 of domestic love, and violators of the 
 immunities of friendship; while de- 
 scribing some matronly frail one, who, 
 after daily connubial quarrels, possibly 
 for twenty years, is now brought for- 
 ward to enrich the good man, by 
 proving that she has been seduced 
 from virtue's path by an unfledged 
 stripling, to whom the prudent pair
 
 105 
 
 agreed to make their house agreeable, 
 aware of his capability of paying large 
 damages." 
 
 " Let us drop the style of sar- 
 casm, my good friend," replied my 
 grandmother ; " it may suffice to lash 
 folly, but is not sufficiently authori- 
 tative to arrest a misapplication of 
 reeling which threatens completely to 
 annihilate female principle, and, com- 
 bining the love of money and the love 
 of notoriety, to extinguish the fear of 
 shame, once a very effective guard to 
 the outworks of female chastity. The 
 girl who ought to deem herself exiled 
 from society, with an unblushing mien 
 steps into the witness's box after 
 hearing from her counsel a pathetic 
 enumeration of her virtues, graces, 
 misfortunes, and injuries. With a tri- 
 umphant consciousness of being very 
 interesting, she displays to the court 
 f 5
 
 106 
 
 her attractions, and, by a supplicatory 
 look at the jury, avows her expectation 
 that the illicit possession of them 
 should be liberally mulcted. She 
 tells her tale of guilt as if it were 
 one of honour, and only hangs her 
 head when a severe cross-examination 
 proves that her case admits of two 
 statements, and that she courted the 
 ruin she incurred. But the scale in- 
 clines in favour of injured innocence ; 
 a marriage portion is secured ; the 
 nymph smiles, curtsies, and retires. 
 Some old acquaintance wishes to set 
 up in business ; enough has been said 
 to remove all stigma of reproach from 
 female frailty, and possibly some years 
 after, her marriage name may blaze in 
 the newspapers, the rival in infamy of 
 some demirep of fashion, and her hus- 
 band be again enriched by a compen- 
 sation for the loss of her society."
 
 107 
 
 " You will allow," said Mr. James, 
 " that if added temptations are placed 
 in the way of women, a mound is 
 raised against the passions of men by 
 laying their purses under the most 
 severe contribution." 
 
 " I would rather trust public morals," 
 was her reply, "to the propriety and de- 
 corum of women, than to the worldly 
 foresight of men. In my youth we were 
 instructed that my sex might receive 
 injuries from yours, which even mar- 
 riage could not repair. So taught the 
 moral, pathetic Richardson, in his story 
 of ■ the divine Clarissa ;' but he drew 
 his lessons from higher sources than 
 sentimental morality. So Shenstone 
 told us in his instructive tale of ' Poor 
 artless Jessy.' She was a village girl, 
 seduced by a man of fortune ; but she 
 did not hurry into a court of justice, 
 and demand to be paid for having 
 f 6
 
 108 
 
 listened to the promises of ' licentious 
 love ;' she only asked concealment, 
 and the means of ' hiding her shame 
 from every eye/ ■ The couch of her 
 parents was wet with tears ;' but we 
 hear of no attempts to force Henry 
 into marriage ; that, she affirmed, could 
 neither * heal her peace nor hide her 
 shame.' Certainly, Mr. James, if I 
 were forewoman to a jury of matrons, I 
 would have given large damages to poor 
 Jessy. I would have acknowledged 
 that she did not court temptation, but 
 became the victim of wiles, which it 
 was very difficult for a young and 
 affectionate heart to resist. But neither 
 she nor Clarissa would ever obtrude 
 their wrongs on public observation 
 Like Goldsmith's ' lovely woman,' who 
 has ' stooped to folly,' death was their 
 remedy, and, it must be by decided, 
 persevering, and, if requisite, austere
 
 109 
 
 attempts to renew this inbred sense of 
 delicacy in the female mind, not by 
 encouraging the artful to inveigle, the 
 wavering to yield, and the bold to 
 prosecute, that judges, counsellors, and 
 juries must set themselves to restore 
 the proper tone of female virtue, and to 
 arrest female profligacy in its career, 
 rather than measure out its degree by 
 proportionate fines on its concomitant 
 criminality. The morals of the mid- 
 dle classes of society, ever the most 
 important, depend on repressing this 
 false sensibility." 
 
 Mr. James replied in his profes- 
 sional character ; he spoke of religion 
 as the only true guard of female 
 morals, and adverted to the present 
 prevailing views of it, as affecting the 
 standard of national purity, which he 
 feared was deteriorated, notwithstand- 
 ing an admitted refinement in language, 
 and an avoidance of that unblushing
 
 no 
 
 avowal of licentiousness, which perhaps, 
 in some degree, guarded inexperience 
 from crime, by exhibiting vice in 
 her native hideousness, without so- 
 phisticating our moral sense by an 
 enchanting preparation of soporific pal- 
 liatives, or disguising the monster's 
 true features. He ascribed much 
 evil to the style in which the crimes 
 that will certainly shut the gates of 
 heaven against impenitent offenders 
 are spoken of in company ; where they 
 are sometimes laughed at, sometimes 
 explained away as natural frailties 
 which could not be avoided, sometimes 
 almost panegyrized under the name of 
 amiable failings and gentler offences, 
 nay, even termed "the passions which 
 honour the heart." Nor was the pul- 
 pit, he said, always exempt from 
 censure in this particular. Many 
 clergymen, inspired with true and
 
 Ill 
 
 holy zeal for religion, were not suffi- 
 ciently distinct and accurate in defin- 
 ing Sin, which, though in every 
 modification offensive in the sight of 
 God, does yet admit of those distinc- 
 tions which divide it into infirmity and 
 crime, and give a greater degree of 
 contamination to the offender, in pro- 
 portion as the offence is more or less 
 injurious to society, and repugnant to 
 those laws which natural and revealed 
 religion alike imprint on the human 
 heart. Now, though he admitted, in 
 full force, the awful truth, that we 
 shall be judged by our thoughts and 
 secret wishes, as well as by our words ; 
 that motives determine the nature of 
 deeds, and that many people, who 
 bear a creditable appearance are worse 
 sinners than some who are exiled 
 from society ; yet, without the least 
 leaning to the self-justifying, presump-
 
 112 
 
 tuous, pharisaical righteousness so often 
 condemned in their discourses, or harsh- 
 ness towards the penitent Magdalen 
 or humble publican, whom they often 
 exclusively eulogize, Mr. James said, 
 that he must, as one of the conser- 
 vators of correct morals, require that 
 people who did support that character 
 should not, by some sly insinuation, 
 be arraigned as hypocrites, or involved 
 in the same condemnation with their 
 openly profligate neighbour. Nor 
 would he admit that such a profli- 
 gate's spiritual state presented stronger 
 hopes of ultimate salvation. He had 
 generally found, in the course of his 
 ministry, that a life of licentious indul- 
 gence petrifies the heart, and closes it 
 to conviction. A guilty conscience 
 shrinks from self-communion, and 
 oftener tries to shun religious impres- 
 sions, than it would if it were not
 
 113 
 
 burdened with the weight at atrocious 
 misdeeds, applying to a sort of practi- 
 cal infidelity, or a vague idea of com- 
 muting virtues. And, indeed, when 
 religion did step in to rescue what is 
 called " a brand out of the fire," it 
 was often an ambiguous, anomalous 
 compound of indefinite tenets and un- 
 founded hopes, adapted to an inflated 
 imagination and fervid passions. 
 
 " Most true, reverend sir," said my 
 grandmother, who listened to her pas- 
 tor, where he spoke in his own cha- 
 racter, with delighted attention ; " and 
 the remark especially applies to my 
 own sex, who seem, by a natural gra- 
 dation, to pass from the demirep to the 
 devotee, as Sterne tells us was the 
 fashion in France in his time ; only the 
 continental ladies admitted the inter- 
 mediate stage of the infidel. It is cer- 
 tainly desirable that some change
 
 114 
 
 should take place ; but I lament 
 that these converts bring little credit 
 to the church, which I would rather 
 have appear as a temple filled with the 
 pure in heart, or an asylum for weary 
 pilgrims and storm-beaten travellers, 
 than a penitentiary crowded with re- 
 formed profligates. I wish the reput- 
 ation of piety to be rather forced upon 
 a woman, than sought by the obtru- 
 siveness of her words and actions, I 
 particularly require that it should be 
 annexed to a blameless life, and the 
 quiet uniform discharge of all her 
 domestic duties, which I cannot per- 
 mit to be in the smallest degree sacri- 
 ficed to the love of notoriety. The 
 avocations of piety and charity should 
 be like the snow falling from heaven, 
 silent and continuous. Like that, their 
 essence will disappear when exposed 
 to the warm beams of commendatory
 
 115 
 
 observation. Deem me not splenetic, 
 censorious, or un candid, if I regard 
 these new devotees as beings not less 
 entangled in the mazes of* this world, in 
 their new character, than they were in 
 their former one. I fear that notoriety is 
 still their passion ; and that many who 
 once pursued it by gaiety and gallantry, 
 now seek it as sermon-hunters and pa- 
 tronesses of schemes for universal re- 
 formation and ostentatious liberality." 
 
 Mrs. James, turning to Ellen, re- 
 marked, " I now see why you did 
 not join the Miss Strictlys when they 
 went collecting penny subscriptions 
 for missions, nor contributed your 
 bagatelles to the raffle set on foot by 
 their mother, the produce of which 
 was, I think, to clothe the African 
 blacks as soon as that continent should 
 be converted to Christianity. ,, 
 
 " Indeed/' said Ellen, " it was not
 
 116 
 
 my own fault, or, if you will, my merit, 
 that I was not a conspicuous actress in 
 both these dramas. Kitty Smith re- 
 peated to me many interesting parti- 
 culars of wonderful conversions, and 
 the elegant compliments paid by the 
 gentlemen of the committee to what 
 they called their lovely deaconesses, 
 and I own I pouted half a day when 
 my grandmamma gave a negative too 
 decided for me to controvert. They 
 collected fourteen shillings alnong the 
 cottagers ; and all the beaux in the 
 village subscribed, in compliment to 
 the ladies. As to the raffle scheme, I 
 did buy some bugles and gold paper ; 
 but I was told that Betty Robins 
 would want her baby clothes, which, 
 besides my being that week visitor and 
 cutter-out at the girls' school, left me 
 no time for what my grandmother 
 called speculative philanthropy."
 
 117 
 
 " And by this direction of your 
 talent," said that venerable lady, " you 
 were certainly useful, and witnessed the 
 application and effect of your labours. 
 Besides, you did no mischief ; a consi- 
 deration which I wish all ladies to 
 attend to, where they commence being 
 remarkably good. The raffle spoiled 
 Miss Filagree's annual show ; which 
 you know greatly assists her in the 
 support of a blind mother ; and at last 
 the treasurer proved what may be 
 termed a charity- shark, for when Mrs. 
 Strictly settled her accounts, and re- 
 quired him to transmit the balance 
 from the branch to the parent society, 
 he brought in such a bill for advertise- 
 ments, meetings, and stationary, that our 
 very-well-intentioned neighbour found 
 herself liable to a deficit, and has since 
 declined taking the chair on a similar
 
 118 
 
 " I wish," observed Mrs. James, 
 " that another rebuff would drive her 
 from oversetting our old system of 
 school-management, which, if she per- 
 severes, will render the instruction of 
 girls the ruin of our poor sempstresses, 
 by depriving them of the means of 
 earning a subsistence, from the unre- 
 munerating prices at which Mrs. 
 Strictly's girls execute needle-work, 
 and the perseverance with which she 
 canvasses the country to procure sup- 
 plies of un worked frocks and pinafores 
 to employ her scholars." 
 
 " The proceeds," said Ellen, " are 
 wholly applied to purchase a Sunday 
 costume, which it gives their busy 
 patroness great amusement to contrive 
 and alter. She has at last fixed — 
 no, not fixed, but for the present pre- 
 ferred one extremely becoming, and 
 contemplated by her with no small
 
 119 
 
 satisfaction, as she lifts her glass to the 
 gallery while the lessons are reading, 
 and notes down who are absent. 
 There is a jaunty air in the pink 
 bonnet, and a smart cut in the laven- 
 der-pelisse, which I have vainly tried 
 to imitate. 'Tis a young seminary of 
 coquettes, grandmamma, take my word 
 for it. Do tell Mrs. Strictly she really 
 does a great deal of harm." 
 
 " It is impossible to convince her," 
 was the reply; " she complains of 
 throwing her pearls before swine, and 
 of the frivolous excuses which the 
 parents of her protegees make to detain 
 them from school, such as that they 
 want them to nurse younger children, 
 to help them to wash, or to assist in 
 earning their bread. • It seems,' said 
 Mrs. Strictly to me one day, ' as if I 
 were the obliged person. They say, 
 they can refuse nothing to such a good
 
 120 
 
 lady ; Betsy shall come, if I wish her ; 
 yet, if I please, they would rather have 
 her at home. Only conceive this, 
 after all my exertions ; but, indeed, 
 Mrs. Loveday, you cannot imagine the 
 ingratitude, ignorance, and duplicity 
 of the poor.' With respect to their 
 ignorance, I could have told her that 
 they are generally more aware of what 
 is really for their benefit than those 
 who officiously try to degrade them 
 into puppets, moved by vanity and 
 conceit, under the disguise of philan- 
 thropy. Of the ingratitude of others, 
 no one who reads the Gospels should 
 presume to complain ; nor ought we to 
 rail against duplicity, till we have 
 thoroughly searched the labyrinth of 
 our own hearts. I was meditating this 
 reply, when Mrs. Strictly took leave, 
 remarking, * It was her duty to bear 
 her appointed cross with meekness.' "
 
 121 
 
 " Thus," said Ellen, " she perse- 
 veres with martyr constancy to spread 
 poverty and a love of finery in the 
 village, never considering that her 
 girls eat at the cost of their parents, 
 and are, in fact, clad at an expence 
 deducted from the industry of others." 
 
 " Mrs. Strictly," said my grandmo- 
 ther, " is not the only self-deceiver, 
 when mounted on her favourite hobby. 
 It is not because she does not know 
 that there are objections to her system, 
 but because her coterie laud her ac- 
 tivity and benevolence ; and she re- 
 solves not to be deterred by what she 
 calls a narrow-minded opposition. How 
 far the rising hope of Ringrove will be 
 benefited as daughters, servants, wives, 
 or mothers, remains to be proved. 
 Having a sort of Cassandra feeling on 
 the subject, I console myself with 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 
 
 thinking that what is fallacious in prin- 
 ciple is seldom sufficiently practicable 
 to last long enough to do much mis- 
 chief." 
 
 The evening drew to a close. The 
 James's took their parting glass of 
 wine and biscuit, retiring with a wish 
 that Henry might have spent his time 
 as agreeably at Orissa Park. My 
 grandmother was evidently weary with 
 her exertions; but, in repeating the 
 family prayers, resumed her usual 
 energy, and with peculiar emphasis 
 repeated the sentences, " Shew to them 
 that be in error the light of thy truth. 
 Strengthen such as do stand, comfort 
 the weak-hearted, and cleanse us all 
 from our secret faults." 
 
 The recollection of Henry by his 
 kind instructor had recalled my thoughts 
 to their usual train, and I answered
 
 us 
 
 Ellen's remark, that we had spent a 
 delightful evening, with a faint rever- 
 beration of " Very delightful," and 
 an enquiry if she had ever been at 
 Orissa Park, and if it were a fine place. 
 " Very fine," said she, imitating my 
 yawning tone ; " there is an aviary and 
 an apiary, a hot-house and an ice- 
 house, a canal and a gold-fish pond, a 
 menagerie and a conservatory; more 
 books in the library than Methuselah 
 could read, and more grapes and pines 
 than he could eat : there are footmen 
 covered with lace, carriages glittering 
 with gold, apartments hung with fluted 
 silk, and beds that scud around the 
 room at the touch of your finger. And 
 there is the master, a wee, crumpled, 
 wizened, saffron-coloured beau ; and I 
 could tell you who will be the mis- 
 tress." 
 
 G 2
 
 124 
 
 " Who ?" exclaimed I, in breathless 
 eagerness. 
 
 " Neither you nor I, coz, and so 
 good night ; for I shall minute down 
 this evening's conversation." 
 
 " Mercy, Ellen, what a task I" 
 
 (i Not a long one ; I am expert at 
 short-hand, and I may find the remarks 
 I have heard useful, when the aviaries, 
 apiaries, &c. &c. &c. are in ruins, 
 their miserable owner low in his grave, 
 and the bride he purchased with this 
 trim garniture rejoicing over the dear 
 dead old man, and riding into the 
 world on the fruits of his oriental pe- 
 culations." 
 
 " But poor Henry !" 
 
 " I say poor Henry, too ; but I have 
 prophesied enough for one evening, or 
 I would read his destiny. Once more, 
 dear girl, good night. And now silence,
 
 l c 25 
 
 or repeat the first line of what I once 
 heard, not un appropriately, given out 
 before a dozy sermon, and entitled, 
 * A Hymn to Sleep — ' 
 
 1 Come, sweet sleep, and close my eyes.' " 
 
 g a
 
 126 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 1 he routine of the week now brought 
 on Sunday : it was the first I had spent 
 at Ringrove, and I predicted that it 
 must be gloomy and tiresome. No 
 callers or calls after morning service ; 
 no promenades in Kensington Gar- 
 dens ; no dinner parties ; not even a 
 drive to a fashionable chapel or a po- 
 pular preacher. " How do you get 
 through Sunday ?" said I to Ellen, 
 who I saw met me with her usual vi- 
 vacious countenance. 
 
 " It is one of our busiest days," she 
 answered. " No, I must not call it 
 busiest; but we always find it too 
 short. We twice attend divine service ; 
 we superintend the Sunday-school
 
 127 
 
 girls ; we visit our distressed or suffer- 
 ing neighbours, be they ranked among 
 the rich or the poor ; we walk in the 
 garden, and spend a longer time than 
 on other days in exploring the me- 
 chanism of plants, and learning the 
 habits of birds and insects. In winter 
 evenings we call in the assistance of 
 the orrery and celestial globe, to im- 
 prove my little smattering in astro- 
 nomy. The household constantly as- 
 sembles for family reading and worship, 
 and my grandmother generally expa- 
 tiates on what has formed part of the 
 public service. A friendly neighbour 
 often joins our tea-table, prepared to 
 acquiesce in our plans ; and I am en- 
 couraged to attempt a little sacred 
 music without apprehension, knowing 
 that the feelings of the sincere wor- 
 shipper will prevent the censure of the 
 connoisseur. You shall hear what gra- 
 g 4
 
 128 
 
 tified our dear grandmother so much 
 last Sunday, that she asked for a 
 repetition." 
 
 Ellen touched her piano, and in a 
 sweet, untutored voice sung this hymn, 
 which Dr. Hawkesworth composed a 
 month before his death : 
 
 " In sleep's serene oblivion laid, 
 I safely pass the silent night; 
 At once I see the breaking shade, 
 And drink again the morning light. 
 
 " New-born, I bless the waking hour, 
 At once with awe rejoice to be ; 
 My conscious soul resumes her power, 
 And springs, my gracious God, to thee. 
 
 " O guide me through the various maze 
 My doubtful feet are doom'd to tread, 
 And spread thy shield's protecting blaze 
 When dangers press around my head. 
 
 " A deeper shade will soon impend ; 
 A deeper sleep my eyes oppress ; 
 Yet still thy strength shall me defend, 
 Thy goodness still shall deign to bless. 
 
 " That deeper shade shall fade away ; 
 
 That deeper sleep shall leave my eyes ; 
 Thy light shall give eternal day, 
 Thy love the raptures of the skies."
 
 129 
 
 "Is it not glorious, consolatory, 
 beatifying/' said Ellen, observing me 
 sob at the concluding stanzas, " that 
 this dear venerable woman, bending 
 under the increasing pressure of decay, 
 seems as if she shook off her infir- 
 mities whenever the unseen world 
 becomes the topic of conversation ? 
 Those anticipations which depress the 
 spirits of all who know her, appear to 
 elevate hers. I love her, Emma, every 
 day in the week ; but it is on a Sunday 
 that the superiority of her exalted 
 character shines brightest. On other 
 days, the warmth of her feelings, and 
 the vivid interest she takes in the well- 
 doing of her fellow-creatures, some- 
 times give a keenness to her remarks, 
 which they who know not the gen- 
 tleness of her temper might call aspe- 
 rity ; but on this good day every word 
 is meek benignity, every look tender 
 g 5
 
 130 
 
 charity. She has remarked often the 
 effect of the Sabbath on her ardent 
 temper, and required me to witness 
 the tranquillising nature of this blessed 
 institution. It is more truly on this 
 day that the law of God is on her lips, 
 and all her actions seem heaven-di- 
 rected." 
 
 Wondering at the new sensation 
 which induced me to deprecate the 
 death of an old woman, of whom I 
 still stood in too much awe cordially to 
 love, I changed the discourse, by ask- 
 ing Ellen how she became musical 
 without having had a governess or 
 master. 
 
 " It would indeed be strange," said 
 she, " if I pretended to more than 
 being fond of music, and entertaining 
 my grandmother, in the absence of 
 any abler performer, to whom I most 
 willingly give place."
 
 131 
 
 " Your execution," I replied, and I 
 spoke without the least exaggeration, 
 " exceeds that of many who call them- 
 selves amateurs, and is far too correct 
 to be intuitive." 
 
 " Ah, Emma ! you never will credit 
 the services which the fairies render 
 me. Two of them, Emulation and Ap- 
 plication, were singularly beneficial to 
 me in my girlhood ; but listen while I 
 explain the wonder. Our very kind 
 neighbour, Mrs. James, was in early life 
 an inmate in a nobleman's family, being 
 the niece of Lady Arbury, and receiv- 
 ing the same education with her 
 daughters. She was entitled to enter- 
 tain higher views ; but, preferring 
 the chaplain to a dissipated man of 
 rank, she became our vicar's wife. Hav- 
 ing no children and much leisure, she 
 kindly volunteered her services to teach 
 me and two or three of my playfellows 
 g 6
 
 132 
 
 the rudiments of polite education. We 
 attended her when she was not better 
 occupied, and as instruction was at once 
 a favour and a rarity, it was dearly 
 prized. I was the favourite pupil, and 
 to excel Kitty Smith in drawing, and 
 Mary Brown in music, was as desirable 
 an achievement as to gain the prize 
 medal at the Society of Arts. My ulti- 
 mate rewards were a present of the in- 
 struments which you see ; and thus, by 
 being forced to set a high value on my 
 lessons, I became a dilettante." 
 
 " But does not our grandmother dis- 
 countenance accomplishments, and ri- 
 dicule those who possess them ?" 
 
 " Never, unless they are only accom- 
 plished, or devote to the lighter embel- 
 lishments of life more time and pence 
 than accord with her golden rules of fit- 
 ness and consistency ; but here she 
 comes, and we shall soon be favoured
 
 133 
 
 with her sentiments on subjects suited 
 to this, her beloved day." 
 
 After returning thanks for being all 
 "brought in safety to the light and 
 comfort of another Sabbath," and beg- 
 ging, in the words of Bishop Wilson, 
 " that it might be so consecrated as to 
 be the beginning of a happy week to 
 the whole family," my grandmother 
 smiled on us with more than her usual 
 benignity, and, seeing my grave looks, 
 gave my hand a kinder pressure. My 
 heart had previously been softened and 
 disposed to reciprocate the signs of 
 affection, and I took my place at 
 breakfast, feeling more happy than 
 heretofore at Ringrove, though the 
 prospect of a long, dull Sunday was 
 not even relieved by the chance of 
 seeing Mrs. Goodenough, who, Ellen 
 told me, was so engrossed with her son 
 during his short stay as to regret every
 
 134 
 
 interruption to the enjoyment of his 
 society. 
 
 " Was he going a long voyage ?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " A long, dangerous, distant one, 
 perhaps to return no more." 
 
 " How I pity his mother !" was my 
 reply. 
 
 " Can only a mother's heart ache 
 for Frederick ?" was her answer. " But 
 there is a hope that duty may not im- 
 pose the severe sacrifice; and hope shall 
 be my pole-star till his sails are un- 
 furled." 
 
 My grandmother was of opinion, 
 that serious conversation is the best 
 preparative for the duties of the Sab- 
 bath, and, from her own experience of 
 its utility, she recommended the prac- 
 tice of recollection and self-communion. 
 
 " It is," said she, " almost impossible 
 for frail creatures as we are to pass a 
 day, whether in society or seclusion,
 
 135 
 
 without doing, saying, or thinking 
 something offensive to that purity and 
 holiness which our religion prescribes. 
 I fear that last night I spoke somewhat 
 too sharply against the practice of 
 young women going as mendicants from 
 house to house, advocating the cause 
 of questionable though popular societies, 
 at least, of societies respecting whose 
 ultimate tendency and internal manage- 
 ment they can only have the partial 
 statements of their pledged and com- 
 mitted supporters. Stimulated by the 
 eloquence of orators, whose zeal defies 
 fact and disdains argument, these young 
 enthusiasts engage in the service often 
 without the privity, sometimes against 
 the opinion, of their parents, rarely with 
 the approbation of their regular pastor ; 
 and I know an instance of their being 
 incited to do so, in avowed contraven- 
 tion to his precepts and authority. 
 They visit cottagers who are in such
 
 136 
 
 abject poverty, that they ought rather 
 to receive donations than be solicited for 
 mites. The good they attempt is pro- 
 blematical, the evil certain. Who is 
 there among us so insulated from dis- 
 tress as not to know objects to whom 
 our bounty would be most salutary, if 
 we had the power to direct it without 
 impeding other claims, and the relief 
 that our hand bestows, and our own 
 eye sees applied, is not wasted in the 
 transmission ? The services which poor 
 people render to each other are far 
 greater and more beneficial than their 
 superiors admit, and keep alive in 
 humble society that sacred spirit of true 
 charity which consists in being ever 
 ready to perform neighbourly actions. 
 I have seen a « care-crazed mother 
 of many children' pour a tea-cup of 
 cowslip wine from her only bottle, 
 and carry it to moisten the lip of 
 dying indigence. I could name the
 
 137 
 
 hard-faring, hard-working labourer, 
 whose only dinner is mashed potatoes, 
 yet who circumscribes his own appe- 
 tite to give what he contentedly calls a 
 comfortable meal to a deserted orphan 
 who lives near him. Should the slender 
 stream which waters this sacred soil 
 be diverted to distant, dubious, disput- 
 able objects ? Will brotherly love in- 
 crease if the pennyworth of relief which 
 the poor can ill spare from the neces- 
 sities of their own families be diverted 
 to remote regions, with whose inhabit- 
 ants they can have no real sympathy, 
 and of whose wants and situation their 
 views must be vague and indefinite ? I 
 admit that the desired contribution is 
 small ; but they who think it not an 
 object, know as little of the enforced 
 economy of village poor as the French 
 princess, who wondered at the obsti- 
 nacy of her father's subjects in dying
 
 138 
 
 of famine, declaring she would sooner 
 have eaten only bread." 
 
 " My dear grandmamma, you are 
 repeating the severe remarks you made 
 yesterday evening." 
 
 " Age is discursive, my dear girls, 
 and I am now describing how in the 
 silence of the night the subject was 
 again presented to my pillow. I thought 
 yesterday with somewhat of anger on 
 the dictatorial publicity and hardihood 
 by which some persons thus force their 
 own views of charity on their inferiors 
 and dependents. I have since looked 
 at the object which they mean to ac- 
 complish. I admit that their intention 
 may be good, and a correct motive 
 will not lose its reward on account 
 of erring judgment. It may also 
 proceed from vanity, and from that 
 stimulating thirst for notoriety, which 
 is now so alarmingly prevalent. When
 
 139 
 
 sanctioned by parental and pastoral 
 authority, I withdraw the objection 
 which points in full force as prohi- 
 bitory to all under my own care, to 
 whom I say that this proceeding is 
 too meddling and obtrusive to consist 
 with that charity whose essence is 
 humility and privacy. But in reproba- 
 ting what I thought wrong, I deviated 
 into a warmth of censure which has 
 made me also an offender against the 
 same divine law. I also allow that I 
 spoke too satirically of the wrong 
 judgment of Mrs. Strictly, who cer- 
 tainly devotes her large fortune to acts 
 of bounty." 
 
 " Even to withholding necessaries 
 from her own family. Indeed, my dear 
 grandmamma, if you go on in this 
 strain of self-accusation, I shall sus- 
 pect that you only mean to pique me 
 until I use the puff direct. It is well
 
 140 
 
 known that she suffers her pocket to 
 be picked by impostors and beggars 
 of all descriptions, and makes her 
 children wretched by her parsimony. 
 Her sons, from being refused the com- 
 pany and the indulgences suited to 
 their stations, now avoid her ; all of 
 them with alienated affections ; some 
 with corrupted hearts, have fallen 
 into the snares of bad society, merely 
 because she deemed total seclusion to 
 be requisite for preserving them from 
 the contagion of an evil world. That, 
 you know, is the text which she con- 
 siders as the discriminating shibboleth 
 of vital religion." 
 
 " Nothing," said my grandmother, 
 " as I know from experience, is more 
 difficult than to restrain an ardent 
 temper stimulated by a very conscien- 
 tious desire to do right, and prevent 
 it from running into extremes, par-
 
 141 
 
 ticularly when we suffer prejudice to 
 mix with our ruling passion, and to 
 keep such hold of our minds as not to 
 allow us to look at what may be urged 
 on the contrary side. I begin to doubt 
 which is most dangerous, a too fre- 
 quent mixture with society, or constant 
 seclusion. If the former endangers 
 our morals, the latter is equally un- 
 favourable to our hearts and tempers. 
 Besides, the retirement of really good 
 and sensible people from the scenes 
 of active life, while in the vigour of 
 their days, must be highly injurious 
 to the interests of society, both as 
 regards the management of public 
 affairs, and the comforts of rational 
 intercourse. Our divine Master, and 
 by the rule of his example every 
 question should be ultimately decided, 
 did not pray that his disciples • should 
 be taken out of the world.' He sent
 
 142 
 
 them to convert it, to ' be burning and 
 shining lights ;' and his prayer for 
 them was, ' that they might be kept 
 from evil.' Christianity, as taught in 
 the gospels, is a system adapted to 
 man in an active, probationary, militant 
 state. It is not a monastic rule, but 
 a code of legislation intended to re- 
 novate a fallen world ; not ■ a candle 
 hid under a bushel,' but the modifier 
 of civil institutions, and the curb of 
 individual conduct. If men truly en- 
 lightened by this excellent spirit 
 refused to come forward and act the 
 parts which God has marked out for 
 them in public and private life, would 
 not the proud but false boast of Satan 
 be realised, and the kingdoms of 
 the world fall into the hands of his 
 agents ? 
 
 " Further, in our application of those 
 texts which imply universal depravity,
 
 143 
 
 let us remember that the world is now 
 greatly changed since our Lord trod 
 the favoured soil of Judea. Though 
 much remains to be done, the gospel 
 has achieved much in changing the 
 principles and improving the general 
 condition of mankind. Still I admit 
 that there is danger in society ; but to 
 danger, to warfare, and to arduous 
 combat, the Christian soldier is called. 
 He must buckle on the whole armour 
 of God, and fail not to provide himself 
 with the sword of the Spirit, especially 
 when some pressing necessity requires 
 him to venture into dangerous society. 
 Prayer, my children, and the word of 
 God, nourish the soul. Supported by 
 these, if we have entered even into the 
 enemy's ground, we may return un- 
 contaminated. But let us be watchful, 
 and, remembering that * there is a lion 
 in the path,' never relax our vigilance
 
 144 
 
 or cease to implore the protection of 
 our heavenly Defender." 
 
 I ventured to remark here that all 
 the very good people with whom I 
 was acquainted drew such a frightful 
 picture of the world as really to disgust 
 me, and make me often wish I had 
 never come into it. 
 
 " Nature, my love," replied my 
 grandmother, " never meant her blos- 
 soms to be blighted by misanthropy 
 before they arrived at maturity. Are 
 you sure, Emma, that your very good 
 people are not at heart still worshippers 
 of the coquette whom they vilify, with 
 whom their quarrel is only that of a 
 piqued lover, to be appeased by a 
 smile ? I ask this question not in the 
 pride of superior intellect, but from 
 the more intimate acquaintance with 
 that most capricious, most deceitful 
 being, selfi which a life of con-
 
 145 
 
 strained seclusion has enabled me to 
 form. There is nothing more dan- 
 gerous to young people's real happiness 
 than to permit them to start with false 
 views of what they are to expect in 
 life. My Emma, I doubt not that 
 you once deemed this untried world 
 a paradise of pleasure." I bowed. 
 " You have since looked on it as 
 a dreary wilderness, almost barren of 
 comfort." I wept. " Courage, dear 
 girl ; life is a magic lantern ; the scene 
 will again change ; but do not expect a 
 return of the vivid colourings and gay 
 images of your early youth. They have 
 passed away for ever ; and, in truth, 
 were but delusions, the phantasmagoria 
 of prosperity, which a judicious in- 
 structor would have taught you to 
 detect. Your future views of life will 
 present a mixed prospect. Earnestly 
 do I pray that the bright hue may 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 
 
 prevail so far as is consistent with that 
 necessary share of corrective sorrow 
 which will suffice to convince you that 
 you are a pilgrim travelling to a better 
 country : a remark, I admit, that 
 wants the all captivating grace of 
 novelty, but yet as necessary to be 
 sounded in our ears as the warning 
 cry to the King of Serendib, * Thou 
 must die!' But, Emma, tell me 
 more of your very good people who 
 are so disgusted with life. Give me a 
 slight sketch of their history. Have 
 they been very unfortunate ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have they sunk beneath the sta- 
 tion to which they were born and 
 educated?" 
 
 « No." 
 
 " Have they suffered some over- 
 whelming, awful, premature losses from 
 the ravages of death ?"
 
 147 
 
 « No." 
 
 " Do they labour under some in- 
 curable distemper ?" 
 
 » No." 
 
 " Do they suffer excruciating bodily 
 anguish ?" 
 
 « No." 
 
 " Then do tell me why they quarrel 
 with the world, or rather with their 
 Creator ?" 
 
 This question demanded consider- 
 ation ; and really the causes of dis- 
 content, when set in array, appeared 
 so ridiculous, that I was ashamed to 
 mention them. I knew one lady who 
 was constantly teased by disorderly 
 servants. My grandmother asked if 
 she had paid due attention to their 
 morals by precept and example ? Had 
 she allowed them time for their religious 
 duties? Had she been scrupulous as 
 to character when she engaged them ? 
 h 2
 
 148 
 
 Had she exercised sufficient watchful- 
 ness to detect peculation and fraud ? 
 Did she appear to take an interest in 
 their welfare, and to contribute to their 
 comforts, without humouring them into 
 insolence and fastidiousness ? My an- 
 swers were repeated negatives. 
 
 " Then," said Mrs. Loveday, " I 
 do not see that fate, or the world, or 
 whatever be the name of this evil 
 genius, (for it would be irreverent to 
 mention Providence,) is accessary to 
 this worthy lady's misfortunes. We 
 must leave her to reap the natural 
 consequences of omitting the vigilance 
 and consideration which her duty as 
 a mistress of a, family required. Pass 
 over to another of your unfortunates." 
 
 My next case was Mrs. Gray, whom 
 the world had ungratefully forsaken. 
 She had been the life and ornament 
 of society. Her parties were the most
 
 149 
 
 •rowded, fashionable, and pleasant, 
 •he had brought out numbers of young 
 women, and procured them good estab- 
 lishments. She had obtained situations 
 for many younger brothers ; and every 
 body used to consult her when they 
 first came to town, to know what they 
 were to do, and whom they were to 
 visit. And this oracle, this patroness, 
 this most kind hostess, now sat day 
 after day alone in her boudoir, without 
 one visitor, one client, one friend. 
 
 " I fear," said my grandmother, 
 " the girls whom she helped to hus- 
 bands, and the men for whom she 
 procured situations, did not deserve 
 her good offices. How old is she ?" 
 
 Mrs. Gray's age was a profound 
 secret, but on mentioning her maiden 
 name, my grandmother discovered that 
 she was much her senior. This I 
 could not credit, even allowing for a 
 h 3
 
 150 
 
 dark wig, a padded shape, ivory teeth, 
 rouge, a neck scarce covered with crepe- 
 lisse, white silk sandals, and gauze 
 drapery floating in all the wave3 of 
 fantastic elegance. A laugh followed ; 
 and we agreed not to quarrel with the 
 world because an old woman outlived 
 the possibility of being fashionable. 
 
 " I am not disposed," said my grand- 
 mother, " to put old women beyond 
 the pale of society, as drones that de- 
 vour the riches of the hive. Nor 
 would I revive the old law of Epire, 
 and consign them to the executioner 
 after a certain age. We may be use- 
 ful in our proper character. Standing 
 on the pinnacle of experience, we look 
 back on the past, and life appears 
 as a panorama spread behind us ; while 
 eternity, like the mountains of a country 
 we are about to enter, rises on our 
 horizon in clear perspective. Surely
 
 151 
 
 we neglect our duty, if we forbear to 
 direct our warning voice to the young, 
 fearless adventurers, who appear ready 
 to fall into the defiles where we had 
 nearly perished, without any greater 
 assumption of superior wisdom than 
 what belongs to a guide whom a party 
 of strangers employs to show them an 
 unknown road. The guide may be an 
 ignorant rustic, and the strangers phi- 
 losophers, but he can preserve them 
 from being benighted in a forest, or 
 ingulfed in a quick-sand. 
 
 " I have never found young people," 
 continued the mild instructress, "averse 
 to wholesome counsel, provided it 
 was not dogmatically imparted. If it 
 seemed the burst of affectionate soli- 
 citude, not the ebullition of spleen ; 
 if it sprang from a desire to serve, 
 not from an affectation of importance ; 
 if it was not the result of prejudice, 
 h 4
 
 152 
 
 or pique at enjoyments in which the 
 monitor could no longer share. If 
 Phanuel's daughter, the widow of four- 
 score years, abides in the temple, she 
 not only passes without reproach, but 
 is invested with sacerdotal dignity ; 
 and the church of Ephesus partly 
 owed the scriptural treasures which 
 distinguished its first bishop, Timothy, 
 to the early instruction he received 
 from his grandmother Lois. Various 
 benevolent, and even active, occupa- 
 tions suit the privacy of declining life. 
 Let age act its own part with decorum, 
 before it complains * of tittering youth 
 driving it from the stage/ Timely re- 
 treat is wisdom in the theatre of the 
 world, as well as on the stage. The 
 young should labour and enjoy : the 
 privileges of age are rest and . reflec- 
 tion. But in its retirement let it Jkeep 
 guard against its besetting sin, misan-
 
 153 
 
 thropy. Let it not complain that the 
 gay and young pass its door, unless it 
 be sure that they have not been driven 
 away by querulous complaints, either of 
 bodily ills, or of the degeneracy of the 
 times. There is no apology for dwell- 
 ing on such subjects, but that fatuity 
 which makes us forget how irksome 
 they were to ourselves in our own 
 halcyon days. I will inquire no fur* 
 ther about your very good, very ill- 
 used people, my Emma. The sermon 
 bell rings ; and I trust in this dis- 
 cussion of some of the causes of dis- 
 content, we have discovered reasons 
 for vindicating the ways of God to 
 man, and have prepared our spirits for 
 acceptable worship, by cultivating that 
 quiet, resigned, grateful temper, which 
 always marks the Christian, especially 
 when attending the house of prayer." 
 In returning from church, I in- 
 h 5
 
 154 
 
 quired of Ellen, who were the ill- 
 dressed, unhappy looking girls that 
 occupied what I judged was the ma- 
 norial pew, and was informed that they 
 were the daughters of Mrs. Strictly, 
 whose large fortune was so absorbed in 
 various charities, that she could not af- 
 ford them either a new riband in their 
 bonnets, or a decent frock. "But 
 these, " continued my cousin, " are 
 minor mortifications. You will read 
 the comfortless life they lead in their 
 countenances. Mrs. Strictly is one of 
 those who do not apply their religious 
 principles to the correction of the tem- 
 per, or the enlargement of the kinder 
 affections. She gives, but not benignly, 
 growling over her pensioners like a 
 kitten over its prey ; and I often think 
 that she is quite as tormenting. As 
 for her poor daughters, they are rarely 
 permitted to associate with young peo-
 
 155 
 
 pie, and when they do, it is only to feel 
 their inferiority, since, in appearance and 
 manner, they are the most under-bred 
 girls in the neighbourhood. They know 
 nothing but a routine of servile oc- 
 cupations, which their fortunes might 
 allow them to resign to their servants. 
 They are taught to consider accom- 
 plishments as vanities, public amuse- 
 ments as sins, the proprieties of dress 
 as incompatible with the ornament of 
 a meek and quiet spirit, the elegancies 
 of the table as culpable indulgences, 
 and after having been scolded through 
 their daily duties with pack-horse uni- 
 formity, they are detained an hour in 
 1 the godly garret, ' and sent to bed. 
 There, unless I am misinformed, the 
 house-maid slips the last production 
 of the Minerva-press under their pil- 
 low, and leaves them to compare the 
 world of fashion and the wiles of love 
 h 6
 
 156 
 
 with the life to which they are doomed, 
 and to dream of some Feign well or 
 Ranger scaling the walls, and rescuing 
 them from durance." 
 
 My grandmother hardly acquiesced 
 in Ellen's remarks ; for while she ac- 
 knowledged their verity, she appeared to 
 regard them as ill-timed, and diverting 
 our attention from those better sub- 
 jects of reflection which ought to ac- 
 company us from the house of God. 
 She turned the conversation to the 
 fallibility of human judgment, even 
 when applied to what we might be 
 thought best to know, that is, to our- 
 selves, consequently our proneness to 
 err as to the motives of others. The 
 sermon, founded on the parable of the 
 unjust judge, she observed, tended to 
 illustrate an important truth, besides 
 fulfilling its primary intention of acting 
 as an incentive to fervent prayer ; she 
 meant the Hutv of discrimination,
 
 157 
 
 which consists in regarding the intent 
 as well as the action. He who neither 
 feared God nor regarded man, in 
 order to relieve himself from teasing 
 importunity, redressed the wrongs of 
 the suppliant widow, and in the eyes of 
 his fellow-mortals appeared to perform 
 one good action. The Searcher of 
 hearts saw that action, also, to be equally 
 corrupt with the rest of his conduct. 
 An awful admonition this 1 teaching: 
 us to analyse our every action, and to 
 probe our hearts, especially when the 
 voice of commendation awakens the 
 thrill of self-esteem, lest, like the unjust 
 judge, when we boast of having acted 
 righteously and mercifully, we shall 
 be found only to have sought applause 
 by relieving ourselves from a painful 
 sensation ; and though man has reaped 
 the benefit, God weighs the motive, 
 and finds us wanting. " There is,"
 
 158 
 
 continued my grandmother, "another 
 parable of our Lord's, in which he 
 has thought fit to name a criminal 
 action with limited approbation ; I al- 
 lude to the unjust steward, who pro- 
 cures for himself a home in adversity, 
 by a mal-application of his lord's pro- 
 perty. It is guarded from miscon- 
 struction by a copious illustration, 
 showing us that it was his forethought 
 as to his future fate in this world, as 
 opposed to our listless indifference to 
 the blessed mansions in the next* 
 which he recommended to our imita- 
 tion; for the everlasting hills cannot 
 be climbed by those who do not labour 
 up the steep ascent. He also enjoins 
 candour in our judgment of others. 
 In this base peculator there was some- 
 thing commendable ; there was the wis- 
 dom of the serpent, which we are 
 elsewhere advised to combine with
 
 159 
 
 the innocence of the dove. Man, my 
 children, like the world he inhabits, 
 is a compound of good and evil. Let 
 the knowledge of this truth preserve 
 us from speaking with asperity, except 
 of our own misdoings. I believe Mrs. 
 Strictly means rightly, and intends her 
 daughters to be the Tabithas and 
 Eunices of the British church. She 
 has lamentably failed in her sons ; and 
 judging from what we know of human 
 nature, we may fear her success in the 
 female branches. Let us hope other- 
 wise, for they are well-disposed girls ; 
 and woman is not so restive under 
 arbitrary control as man. Go, Ellen, to 
 your accustomed duties in the school ; 
 I feel unable to attend them. I shall 
 not summon Emma to ' the godly gar- 
 ret/ she will therefore dispose of her 
 time as she pleases." 
 
 My grandmother passed through the
 
 160 
 
 little wicket into her garden, and I 
 took my cousin's arm. " You have 
 displeased her," said I. Ellen answered, 
 "I regret that I have ; I ought to have 
 remembered, that though no enemy to 
 raillery, and even preserving a keen 
 relish for the ridiculous, there are times 
 and subjects which she deems sacred. 
 She holds it unseemly and abrupt to 
 dismiss the ideas we have imbibed at 
 church immediately on leaving it ; and 
 even ill-regulated piety commands from 
 her not merely indulgence but respect. 
 My feelings, Emma, were too strongly 
 awakened by the melancholy aspect of 
 girls of my own age suffering under 
 domestic tyranny ; for if report be true, 
 their comfort is a sort of expiatory 
 sacrifice to their mother's former im- 
 proprieties." 
 
 Ellen visited the schools, and ex- 
 amined her scholars without display or
 
 161 
 
 affectation. We then called on an in- 
 firm neighbour, who seemed near the 
 end of her earthly troubles. She re- 
 joiced to see " good Miss," as she 
 called her, and affectionately inquired 
 after " worthy Madam," to whom she 
 sent many thanks; and by enumerating 
 the comforts she had received, enabled 
 me to discover why a portion of our 
 frugal dinners had been handed from 
 the table in silence. The cottager 
 begged Ellen to read to her. I gave her 
 the Prayer Book, opening it at the 
 forty-first psalm, which I remembered 
 to have seen selected for such an oc- 
 casion. She glanced her eyes over 
 " Blessed is he who considereth the 
 poor and needy," and objected to read- 
 ing her own beatitudes; saying, that as 
 she came to comfort the afflicted, the 
 sixth and the twentieth were more ap- 
 propriate. She then announced an in-
 
 162 
 
 tended call from Mr. James that even- 
 ing, and we returned home. 
 
 A walk in the garden occupied our 
 time till afternoon service, which my 
 grandmother exerted herself to attend. 
 Our dinner was more substantial than 
 on other days, and I observed more 
 plates handed off than Goody Simp- 
 son's, whose hopeless state was de- 
 plored. Her bed and cottage, I said, 
 were neat ; but penury was too visible. 
 Did she, I asked, partake of Mrs. Strict- 
 ly's bounty ? 
 
 « No." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 My grandmother was silent. 
 
 " Mrs. Strictly," said Ellen, " keeps 
 a register of the spiritual condition of 
 the parish, and Goody Simpson is 
 marked only as a moral character. 
 None are pensioners at the manor-house 
 who do not reach the description of
 
 163 
 
 pious. She pleaded want of time, to 
 attend the evening prayer-meetings 
 twice a week ; and it was judged that 
 she employed too much time in mend- 
 ing her children's clothes to be a good 
 Christian ; besides, my grandmother pa- 
 tronises her, which is sufficient to ex- 
 clude her from Mrs. Strictly's favour." 
 " Ellen," said my grandmother, 
 gravely, " we have twice to-day confess- 
 ed our own offences, and should there- 
 fore be indulgent to our neighbour's 
 failings. I have already said I have 
 no confidence in Mrs. Strictly's judg- 
 ment, and now remind you that we 
 are unable to judge of her motives. 
 Our views of religion differ in some 
 points which she deems essential; 
 and she may think it right to weaken 
 an influence which she esteems here- 
 tical. The warmth of your affection 
 for those you love is quite as likely 
 to mislead you, and make you what
 
 164 
 
 is called a good hater. Come, let 
 us to the garden, and see if the lily 
 censures the rose for being thorny, or 
 quarrels with the jessamine on account 
 of its feebleness." 
 
 After tea, our little household as- 
 sembled in the library ; and the twenty- 
 fifth chapter of St. Matthew being read 
 as the afternoon lesson, gave occasion 
 to an impromptu commentary, in which 
 I traced a reference to our past convers- 
 ations, it being my grandmother's me- 
 thod to adapt her instructions to any 
 incidental circumstances of recent oc- 
 currence, yet so as not to appear to 
 point them at anyparticular person, and 
 to blend general reproof with a humble 
 acknowledgment of her own errors. 
 Thus, in her remarks on the parable of 
 the ten virgins, she bade us observe, 
 that while they waited for their Lord, 
 even the wise ones slumbered and slept; 
 that thev had no o-ood works to spare
 
 165 
 
 for their less provident companions; 
 and that, after all, human goodness was 
 fallible, and required a higher recom- 
 mendation than its own actions to be 
 admitted to the espousals of the redeem- 
 ed church. Proceeding to the parable 
 of the talents, she remarked that an in- 
 ference was sometimes drawn from the 
 better application of those who had re- 
 ceived the largest share, that a com- 
 bination of judgment, memory, temper, 
 &c, are more likely to be well em- 
 ployed than if the grant had con- 
 sisted only of one endowment. There 
 was truth in this remark, provided 
 education and discipline purified these 
 treasures, and preserved them from the 
 baleful influence of affectation and 
 vanity. But this was no impeachment 
 of the impartiality of the Divine Dis- 
 poser : an awful responsibility hung 
 over the steward of so great a charge ;
 
 166 
 
 and we must observe, that the increase 
 is expected to be commensurate to 
 the means which are confided. Nor 
 has the limited possessor of only one 
 gift cause to complain of his scanty 
 portion. Let him be assured, that if 
 he be not slothful, his reward will be 
 proportioned to his powers of enjoy- 
 ment as well as to his diligent improve- 
 ment. 
 
 Over the tremendous scene dis- 
 closed in the latter part of the chapter 
 my grandmother reverentially paused, 
 bending at the conclusion her vener- 
 able head in devout supplication. She 
 then bade us observe, that though in 
 this particular passage charity to the 
 poor is enforced as the test by which 
 we shall be judged, other places fully 
 proved that many more virtues must 
 be practised, and many evil propen- 
 sities subdued, before we can be pre-
 
 167 
 
 pared for that audit, where, after all, our 
 acquittal must entirely depend upon the 
 merits and mercy of our Judge. Let us 
 remember, that even benevolent actions, 
 however useful to our fellow-creatures, 
 and therefore in this life worthy of 
 praise, must at last be judged by their 
 motives. Let us also beware of fixing 
 our eyes on any particular passage of 
 Scripture, recommending the virtues 
 to which we feel least indisposed, or the 
 tenets which we favour ; rather let us 
 contemplate the whole combined as- 
 semblage of Christian graces, and the 
 general tendency of Gospel-precepts 
 and doctrines, else will our fancies be 
 misled by narrow views, and instead 
 of humble unpretending followers of 
 Christ, we shall be the partisans of a 
 sect obstinate in error, and implacably 
 uncandid in opinion. " Let us," 
 said she, " to-night fervently pray for a
 
 168 
 
 right judgment in all things. This is 
 the gift of God, like genius and me- 
 mory ; and is far more precious than 
 either. It is a talent intrusted to us 
 for cultivation, and the power to im- 
 prove it must be sought by prayer." 
 
 I thought that Ellen's spirits were 
 depressed the whole evening. My 
 grandmother selected her to lead her 
 up stairs, an office generally performed 
 by old Bridget, who became now my 
 attendant instead of my cousin. 
 
 " Dear Miss Emma," said she, as 
 she carefully folded my frock, rolled 
 my sash, and stuck my pins on the 
 cushion, " you must be quite happy 
 here living with such a worthy old lady 
 as my mistress. Talk of Mrs. Strictly, 
 indeed: Mrs. Loveday does twice the 
 good in the parish, and with such little 
 means too ; 'tis really wonderful. But 
 I know she denies herself many com-
 
 169 
 
 forts, and were it not for Miss Ellen, 
 would live on a crust. I know it vexes 
 poor miss when she goes among the 
 poor with her grandmamma's charities, 
 to hear of what Madam Strictly does, 
 and how she sends whole bottles of 
 foreign wine to lying-in women, and 
 lets Mary Hawkins live rent free, and 
 sends Lucy Staples a set of china for 
 a wedding present, and Betty Blandish 
 a silk pelisse, — nasty hussy, a white 
 sheet would have been a properer gift : 
 and then the trumpeter goes before all 
 she does, and people say, ' Well, if ever 
 mortal woman goes to a better world 
 Madam Strictly must,' though I could 
 tell them what she was once. Such 
 stuff! I wonder Miss Ellen minds it; 
 but she so loves her grandmamma, and 
 knows she is worth ten such as Ma- 
 dam Strictly, — the worst mistress in all 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 170 
 
 the county : I would not live with her 
 for the Indies !" 
 
 One secret was unravelled ; but ere 
 I could check Bridget's indignation to 
 ask what had been Mrs. Strictly' s early 
 misdoings, she had put my toilette in 
 complete trim, and went scolding out 
 of the room. I attempted afterwards 
 to gain intelligence from Ellen ; but 
 she told me, as she heartily disliked 
 her, she would not venture on the 
 subject. My grandmother called it 
 vulgar gossip. Bridget would only 
 shake her head, and say she knew all 
 about it ; and thus Mrs. Strictly' s his- 
 tory remains to me as impenetrable a 
 secret as the authorship of Junius's Let- 
 ters, and may like that exercise the 
 ingenuity of a future age.
 
 171 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 I awoke in the morning disposed to 
 revere my grandmother's impartiality, 
 and to commiserate Ellen's disgrace, 
 of whom I had hitherto been some- 
 what jealous, as the prime minister of 
 our little state ; I even discovered that 
 I loved her, though I was still piqued 
 at her never asking me to finish the 
 history of Lady Fandango's ball, which 
 had been interrupted by a quarrel be- 
 tween the gander and the turkey-cock, 
 that required her interference. I was 
 also shocked at her want of taste in 
 not attempting an imitation of the 
 trimming of my China crape frock, 
 and at persisting in wearing those per- 
 i 2
 
 172 
 
 petual cambric muslins, without any 
 other improvement than what they 
 received from the washer-woman. 
 
 At our morning meeting the affec- 
 tionate serenity of every countenance 
 announced that the rebuke of the 
 preceding evening had been well 
 received, and the penitentiary humi- 
 liation cordially accepted. We dis- 
 cussed at breakfast the splendour of 
 avowedly bridal preparations that were 
 going on at the General's. Ellen looked 
 wise, and again hinted that she was in 
 the secret. I expatiated on the lady's 
 good fortune with some feelings of 
 envy and regret, which my grand- 
 mother soon detected. " And where, 
 my child, " said she, " supposing the 
 intended bride to be (as is most pro- 
 bable) a portionless, highly-educated 
 girl, — where is the great happiness of 
 being tempted to commit a solemn
 
 173 
 
 irredeemable act of perjury ? General 
 Repell is a man whom no young wo- 
 man can either love or respect. I speak 
 not of his age, of his infirmities, or even 
 of his defective morals, being con- 
 vinced that in the state of desperation 
 in which the spouse of such an one 
 finds herself, the two former would 
 be deemed endurable, the last scarce 
 considered ; but I speak of a temper 
 which delights in the wretchedness of 
 all with whom it comes in contact. 
 To show you that mere riches, even 
 without this alloy, do not produce con- 
 tentment, unless they meet with a 
 mind properly trained to their use, 
 go, Ellen, to my escritoire, and fetch 
 me one of my old friend's papers. 
 They were bequeathed to me by a 
 lady, who, after devoting the active 
 period of her life to a strict perform- 
 ance of social duty, retired unencum- 
 i 3
 
 174 
 
 bered by family cares to a small abode 
 in the environs of London, where, a 
 somewhat of celebrity attached to the 
 part she had acted in life, allowed her 
 to continue a close observer of what is 
 called the world. Habits of reflection 
 made that view accurate, and her natu- 
 ral disposition would not allow it to be 
 passive. Some of her lucubrations have 
 been given to the world, under what 
 you will perceive to be a disguised 
 name. Others yet unpublished have 
 become my property. In turning them 
 over, I was struck with the appro- 
 priate relation of one to the subject 
 yesterday introduced ; I mean the dis- 
 satisfaction under which apparently 
 fortunate people often labour ; and, 
 as Mrs. Palanquin may also be con- 
 sidered as bearing some resemblance 
 to the future mistress of Orissa Park, 
 allow me to give it to you in the form
 
 175 
 
 in which my friend had prepared it 
 for the public eye ; and, premising that 
 she was merely a woman of plain un- 
 derstanding and antiquated habits, I 
 will request you, Ellen, to become 
 reader." 
 
 From Mrs. Mac Mendus's Papers, en- 
 titled " The Improver." 
 " I shall recommend to the consideration of 
 those who -are always aiming after superfluous 
 and imaginary enjoyments, and will not be at 
 the trouble of contracting their desires, an ex- 
 cellent saying of Bion the philosopher, namely, 
 1 that no man has so much care as he who en- 
 deavours after the most happiness.'"— Addison 
 
 " Few things are more inimical to the 
 domestic comforts of us 'time-worn 
 fragments of an age gone by,' than 
 the great revolution which fashion has 
 made in the hours of repose and re- 
 freshment, to which, as they completely 
 govern our social intercourse, we must 
 i 4
 
 r/6 
 
 pay a lagging, reluctant obedience, at 
 the expence, perhaps, of our health, 
 certainly of all the pleasant associa- 
 tions and enjoyments that are annexed 
 to long-established habits. The world 
 of pleasure and the world of business 
 equally require a long morning; and 
 as every body should belong to one 
 of these departments, to dine early, 
 and not to dine at all, alike indicate 
 a creature whom nobody knows, — an 
 invalid, or an old woman. By a slow 
 retrogradation of half an hour, every 
 two or three years, I have at length 
 removed my dinner-hour to the time 
 when the tea-tray used to make its wel- 
 come appearance at the rectory, in my 
 good doctor's days, yet still I and my 
 cat are continually routed from our 
 mutton-bones, either by first-rate fine 
 ladies going to make morning calls, or 
 second-rate fine ladies finding a lounge
 
 177 
 
 on my sofa refreshing, as they return 
 from turning over " great bargains," 
 and loading themselves with ' real 
 savings,' at cheap shops. This an- 
 noyance has lately so increased, that, to 
 save myself from absolute starvation, 
 I shall be compelled to exhibit a pla- 
 card, specifying that I am taking my 
 repast, and can only, 
 
 ' like the great Mogul at Hindu, 
 
 Be seen and worshipp'd through a window.' 
 
 "To speak my opinion explicitly, 
 these morning calls, though deemed a 
 great acquisition in sociability to those 
 who would grasp time in the aggregate, 
 while they throw it away piece- meal, 
 are, with their adjunct, evening routs, 
 vapid substitutes for the exploded after- 
 noon-visit, at which, without trouble or 
 expence, we met our friends and neigh- 
 bours, after performing the duties of 
 the day, and unbent in confidential, 
 i 5
 
 178 
 
 perhaps in improving, conversation. At 
 these meetings, the old women of my 
 young days (happy, enviable beings !) 
 were permitted to appear in the bro- 
 cade, or ducape sacque, which had 
 formed part of their nuptial wardrobe, 
 and which, with the alteration of a 
 flounce, or the addition of a gymp, 
 went on quietly winter after winter, 
 and were always allowed to look very 
 creditable. They did not, like those 
 martyrs to the mode now distinguished 
 by the name of diaper ones, find it ab- 
 solutely necessary to know every body, 
 but 'they had sufficient leisure to get 
 acquainted with themselves, which in 
 the present absorption of time is im- 
 possible, and, though not wholly free 
 from superstition, they had no fear of 
 being alone. They would have been 
 astonished to hear that "at home " 
 indicated a desire to open your doors
 
 179 
 
 to crowds, or, on the other hand, that 
 " not at home " signified an inclination 
 to be domestic. Enveloped to their 
 chins in Brussels' lace and cambric, 
 they knew not the immediate anguish 
 of shivering in transparent drapery; 
 nor anticipated the rheumatics and 
 catarrhs incident to sudden transitions 
 from the pine-apple heat of a saloon 
 crowded to suffocation, to the chill of 
 waiting for their carriage in an open 
 vestibule, exposed to the rigours of a 
 searching north-easter or biting frost. 
 They were not alternately bandied from 
 the corset-maker to the dress-maker, 
 from the shoe-maker to the adjuster of 
 perukes, to be pinched or padded, fur- 
 belowed or curled ; nor subjugated to 
 the insolence, caprice, or negligence 
 not only of those fabricators of shape 
 and beauty, who pretend to pass their 
 dizened-out Lady-of-Loretto puppet 
 i 6
 
 180 
 
 for a living Venus, but also of their 
 own Abigails, whose impertinence they 
 must tolerate, because they are adroit 
 at their toilette. In those golden days 
 of rest for the aged, an annual examin- 
 ation was sufficient to keep a wardrobe 
 in creditable subservience to fashion, 
 and it was not deemed degrading for 
 an elderly gentlewoman to be recog- 
 nised by her gown or her bonnet. 
 Happy beings, who went to bed when 
 weary, dined when ye chose, conversed 
 with those who were of congenial 
 tastes, dared to give your opinions 
 without waiting to know what the 
 world said, enjoyed your afternoon 
 siesta undisturbed by a footman's pre- 
 lude on the knocker of your door, 
 asserted the immunities of age, and 
 possessed its independence ! 
 
 " My readers will perceive that I am 
 writing under the influence of spleen,
 
 181 
 
 and indeed I have been mortified by a 
 combination of those cross-purposes 
 which form the minor miseries of life, 
 and have seen an example of their 
 being mistaken for real troubles. I 
 yesterday intended to enjoy what some 
 call a tabby snuggery, consisting of a 
 few ancients like my self i who retain a 
 lingering love for old customs. We 
 agreed to defy the world, to meet 
 early without fuss or form, and to have 
 a long confidential chat on the days 
 we had seen. Hyson and macaroons 
 were provided, and as to mental regale, 
 beside what was retrospective, we had 
 two weddings and the last Waverley 
 novel to discuss, not to reckon the 
 episodical anecdotes of cook-maids, 
 lap-dogs, canary-birds, and grand- 
 children. But as Seged, king of 
 Ethiopia, observes, or as Jonathan 
 Oldbuck, a later sage, observes
 
 182 
 
 Possibly my readers will excuse the 
 quotation, and allow me to record my 
 own disappointments. 
 
 " Half an hour before the usual time, 
 my cloth was laid, and my minced 
 veal and plate of fruit were served ; 
 but before they were tasted, a peal on 
 the knocker, which seemed, like the 
 earth-shaking trident of Neptune, to 
 threaten the foundation of our frail 
 tenement, announced company. My 
 foot-boy, green from the country, flew 
 down stairs as rapidly as Betty ascend- 
 ed from the lower regions, the one to 
 let in the company, and the other to 
 endeavour to keep them out; and I, 
 hobbling to the window as fast as my 
 infirmities would permit, caught sight 
 of an elegant barouche and two foot- 
 men with canes and bouquets, but at 
 the same moment I exposed my own 
 head, and terminated the dispute of
 
 183 
 
 my household, one of whom was pro- 
 testing that I was not at home, and 
 the other hesitatingly affirming that I 
 was ; for the lady-visitant exclaimed, 
 
 " ' There she is at the window : I 
 knew she would admit an old friend. 
 Let down the steps. I shall stop an 
 hour ; so, Miss Badger, you may drive 
 about and do my errands. Announce 
 Mrs. Palanquin.' 
 
 " All my self-possession deserts me 
 when I am taken by surprise. Ab- 
 sorbed in wondering who the majestic 
 figure could be that sailed up the gra- 
 vel-w T alk of my front-garden, I was in- 
 capable of assisting my invaluable 
 Betty, who, finding that the enemy 
 would force an entrance, flew to my 
 aid, inveighing loudly against littered 
 rooms, shabby dinners, and her own 
 deshabille. Betty's hands were as nim- 
 ble as her tongue ; but all her celerity
 
 184. 
 
 was unavailing, or rather mischievous. 
 My unfortunate dinner met my com- 
 pany on the staircase, and as advance 
 was impossible, retreat only served to 
 expose the minutiae of my house-keep- 
 ing. But of this more hereafter. 
 
 " I now saw before me a full-formed, 
 black-eyed lady about forty, magnifi- 
 cently attired in the deepest, but, at 
 the same time, most fashionable sables, 
 thus at once manifesting the profun- 
 dity of her sorrow, the weight of her 
 purse, and her deference to the cus- 
 toms of a world from which she was 
 averting her weeping eyes. Her arms 
 were extended, as if she expected me 
 to rush into her embraces. 
 
 " ' Do you not remember me, then ?' 
 said she in a pathetic cadence. ' Alas ! 
 I cannot wonder at the obliterating 
 effects of sorrow and time. I am 
 Phcebe Freckle, the girl you once pa-
 
 185 
 
 tronised, and made so happy with your 
 delicious strawberries and cream.' 
 
 " It was necessary for me to throw 
 as much affection as possible into my 
 face at this enunciation ; but really it 
 was a stretch of memory to recollect 
 the child of a slight acquaintance, or 
 to connect her spare form and plain 
 attire with the expanded dignity which 
 now sunk upon my sofa in rustling 
 grandeur, complaining of fatigue and 
 indisposition, and rejoicing to find her 
 dear, partial friend in such excellent 
 health, and so enviably situated. 
 
 "The employment to which I had in- 
 stantly to submit, of opening and shut- 
 ting doors and windows, and adjusting 
 screens and curtains, so as to obviate 
 currents of air, the annoyance of the 
 smell of cookery, and the extremes of 
 too much or too little light, gave me 
 time to recollect that Phcebe grew up
 
 186 
 
 very handsome, and during a show- 
 winter at Bath attracted the attention 
 of Mr. Palanquin, an East India di- 
 rector, and made no objection to bar- 
 tering her freshness for an ample 
 dower. Most fortunately I also re- 
 membered reading of the husband's 
 demise in the papers, and thus ab- 
 stained from inquiries which must have 
 produced incalculable consternation. 
 
 " When fine ladies aspire to uni- 
 versal admiration, they always draw 
 largely on human credulity, and la- 
 vish the incense of adulation. Every 
 thing about me looked so delightful, 
 so compact, so social, so like a place in 
 which a person might be happy, that I 
 wondered if I was in my own apart- 
 ments among the Alpha cottages, and 
 had not, by an elfin or sibylian en- 
 chantment, been transported to fairy 
 land or elysium.
 
 137 
 
 " ' Your dejeune, my dear Mrs. Mac 
 Mendus, was so nicely elegant, and 
 your gentle soubrette (no very appro- 
 priate epithet for Betty) so simply 
 neat, that I could think of nothing but 
 " fair Fidele, who cut the roots in cha- 
 racters, and sauced the broth as Juno 
 had been sick." ' 
 
 " Of course, I ordered back what I 
 called ' tray/ to whose contents Mrs. 
 Palanquin did justice, declaring herself 
 satiated with the palling luxuries of 
 her own table, and the obstinacy or 
 negligence of professed cooks, while at 
 my table life was to be truly enjoyed. 
 After this, she favoured me with 
 Young's apostrophe to solitude, and 
 Cowper's encomium on the country 
 in preference to cities. 
 
 " By this time the carriage re- 
 turned. Miss Badger sent word that 
 she had executed all the commissions,
 
 188 
 
 and I began to hope for a reprieve; 
 but permission was asked to introduce 
 her dear Badger, who was dying to 
 see me ; and ere the first civilities had 
 passed between us, all the commissions 
 were discovered to have been wrongly 
 executed ; and as they were all wanted 
 immediately, and Mrs. Palanquin did 
 not dine till eight, as she was really 
 unwell, and as she detested shopping, 
 she knew I would have the goodness 
 to indulge her with my society and 
 my sofa, while Badger went back and 
 endeavoured to make those insuffer- 
 able tradespeople understand what she 
 wanted. 
 
 " During a first visit every hostess 
 attempts to entrench herself behind an 
 invincible rampart of civility ; but 
 though I wondered why so very grate- 
 ful and so very attached a friend had 
 not found me out before, I was more
 
 189 
 
 inclined to lament the present than to 
 regret the past, especially as I found 
 the recognition was owing to her de- 
 sire of making me acquainted with the 
 history of her misfortunes. I confess, 
 I started at the word, and glancing 
 from the splendour of her equipage 
 and appearance to the dolour of her 
 countenance, I supposed that Mr. Pa- 
 lanquin had been a Blue-beard, and 
 prepared myself for a tale of misery si- 
 milar to the wrongs of fair Ellen of 
 Lorn, or the Jew-lady in Castle Rack- 
 rent. But I soon found that the good 
 old Director had made a very orderly 
 quiet husband, and had resigned his 
 time, his habits, and his purse to his 
 lady's guidance, only beseeching her 
 to make herself happy, so implicitly, 
 that she really fancied herself inconsol- 
 able for his loss. 
 " Inexperienced youth sighing for in-
 
 190 
 
 dependence will hardly credit me 
 when I aver, that this same business of 
 making ourselves happy is so arduous 
 a task, that it is better only to aim at 
 being contented ; for in the latter case 
 the labour is comprised within narrow 
 bounds, and the instruments that are 
 to effect it are designed by Providence 
 to be our submissive servants. Who- 
 ever will duly govern their inclinations, 
 subdue their tempers, inform their un- 
 derstandings, and submit their wills to 
 a Divine disposer, are sure to be con- 
 tented. In respect to a successful 
 pursuit of happiness, I cannot speak 
 sanguinely. Many of my young asso- 
 ciates started on that plan. I have met 
 them since in autumnal life, and they 
 have looked so like disappointed adven- 
 turers, that I could ask them no ques- 
 tions ; while others, who thought more 
 of doing their duty, seemed by their
 
 191 
 
 bland hilarity to have discovered the 
 pearl of price. 
 
 " As Mrs. Palanquin's history is re- 
 plete with instruction, 1 shall divest it of 
 egotism, self-praise, and the flourish of 
 sentimental exaggeration, and present 
 it in unadorned simplicity; only endea- 
 vouring to supply those moral illustra- 
 tions which, though the lady did me the 
 honour to call me her counsellor and 
 comforter, she gave me no opportunity 
 to suggest. Her early years, which she 
 now depicted in the violet freshness of 
 felicity ,were past in restraint, self-denial, 
 and obscurity, such as prudence recom- 
 mends to people who have large families 
 and small fortunes. To Phcebe Freckle, 
 an annual visit to the Rectory, where 
 she sat next to the door, repeatedly 
 admonished by her mother to hold up 
 her head and not pull her gloves about, 
 was a grand gala; and the appropri-
 
 192 
 
 ation of a sarsenet gown, derived 
 through two elder sisters, was mag- 
 nificence. Her sole dependent, at that 
 time, was a poodle-dog, and her goods 
 and chattels consisted of a tuneless 
 guitar, a few books given by her god- 
 mother, and three or four spindling 
 geraniums, which caught a gleam of 
 sunshine through the interstices left by 
 the exotics of the grown up young 
 ladies. But as she always did as she 
 was bid, smiled when spoken to, ran 
 on every body's errands, and shared 
 her chair with her younger brother 
 when there were more guests than 
 seats, Phoebe grew up a favourite 
 among the neighbours, who rejoiced 
 at her advantageous nuptials. 
 > " But a mere endurance of incon- 
 veniences, and an economic forecast, 
 are very different from the sublime 
 virtue of patience. In the anxieties
 
 193 
 
 occasioned by keeping up an appear- 
 ance beyond their income, the parents 
 of Phcebe lost sight of the nobler 
 object of elevating their children's 
 minds, which they permitted to become 
 more debased and grovelling with 
 every furbelow that was added to their 
 old jackets, from the importance that 
 was given to riches by bitter lament- 
 ations at their own inability to dress 
 and to act like other people. In a 
 family labouring under this twofold 
 indigence, few festivals can occur, but 
 the rigid economy of Mrs. Freckle was 
 observed to relax when any serious 
 misfortune befel any of her wealthy 
 neighbours; and her vinegar aspect as- 
 sumed an oily placidity on being assur- 
 ed that one of the greatest " fortunes'' 
 among her acquaintance would never 
 get a husband. I have heard that she 
 really was good company for a week 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 
 
 after the calamitous fire at Belle Vue, 
 which destroyed the picture gallery 
 and library, so long the sources of high 
 gratification to half the country. But 
 the misfortunes which befel superior 
 wisdom and exalted virtue met with 
 commiseration, because, if their pos- 
 sessors were poor, she never envied 
 them their mental treasures. 
 
 " With a mind thus early devoted to 
 the worship of Mammon, Mrs.Palanquin 
 came a willing sacrifice to the nuptials 
 sanctioned by that deity. She had no 
 anterior attachment, and had the India 
 director been older, uglier, lamer, and 
 a greater invalid than he really was, 
 she felt very sure that she could have 
 made him a very good wife. Besides 
 some after-gleams of sunshine, I do 
 believe her marriage gave her three 
 months of complete felicity ; two of 
 these were spent in selecting wedding
 
 195 
 
 clothes, and the third in wearing 
 them. But, strange as it may appear 
 to the economizing spinster, who turns 
 and re-turns her irreclaimable mantua, 
 while its obsolete form defies con- 
 trivance — regret, disappointment, and 
 ennui, will often perch on the shelves 
 of the most costly wardrobe. Mantua- 
 makers are a cruel race of people. 
 They will cut and slash, forget, mis- 
 take, and eventually spoil. Milliners 
 are not a whit better, and are such 
 slaves to fashion, that they attend 
 neither to complexions nor to coun- 
 tenance. Mrs. Palanquin while a bride, 
 was talked of and looked at, but other 
 brides succeeded to whom taste, or 
 rank, or beauty, imparted greater eclat ; 
 and her gold muslin, her diamond 
 watch, and her bird of paradise plume, 
 were frequently eclipsed by a simple 
 gauze or a white rose. A different 
 k 2
 
 196 
 
 costume was then adopted, but un- 
 fortunately, that was overlooked ; and 
 after infinite fatigue, expence, and 
 anxiety, nobody but her " gentle sou- 
 brette," and her tradespeople, knew 
 the state of her wardrobe. She con- 
 tinually met people better dressed than 
 herself, and, what was truly provoking, 
 whose success seemed to have been 
 attained without care or trouble. After 
 the noviciate of her splendor, her mind 
 lost the habit of luxuriating in the 
 independent enjoyment of knowing 
 how many hundred pounds were at- 
 tached to her person. At the close 
 of the first year, when a sum equal to 
 the revenue of a German principality 
 had been expended, reflection might 
 have told her, that the period had 
 passed without affording her the de- 
 light which she used to enjoy while 
 imitating the court dresses for her
 
 197 
 
 doll, or listening to the inventory of 
 some fair heroine's bridal attire, who, 
 after three volumes of dismay or dis- 
 tress, steps from the character of Miss 
 Jenny of hopeless humiliation, into that 
 of her ladyship. 
 
 " But riches must contain a mine of 
 enjoyment, and in acquiring the ce- 
 lebrity of ton, she might possibly ex- 
 plore some other vein. Alas ! in this 
 high-minded, reflecting nation, the 
 celebrity of ton cannot be purchased, 
 and people are oftener ridiculed than 
 admired for trying to take the lead. 
 Mrs. Palanquin aimed at notoriety by 
 every means consistent with a certain 
 degree of attention to an invalid hus- 
 band, who could not fly to every 
 spot where fashion, on the wings of 
 dissipation, proclaimed Vanity Fair. 
 She planned and furnished fine houses, 
 sported fine equipages, gave fine din- 
 k 3
 
 198 
 
 ners, but never could get into the 
 fine world. She could only move in a 
 lower circle, where she excited wonder, 
 no less for possessing so many splendid 
 things, than for the little satisfaction 
 which they appeared to afford her. 
 It never occurred to her, that to 
 feel real delight, our possessions must 
 shine upon us, reflected in the coun- 
 tenances of those with whom we are 
 domesticated. Her days were past in 
 contriving schemes of enjoyment, and 
 her nights in lamenting the futility of 
 her efforts. Like the draught proffered 
 to Tantalus, the stream of happiness 
 always seemed to recede the moment 
 she tried to quaff it. But as some 
 splenetic or mal-apropos intrusion of 
 human agency appeared to be instru- 
 mental in the disappointment, the fair 
 visionary was not deterred from un- 
 dertaking another speculation by any
 
 199 
 
 acquired control over her own desires, 
 or by the sometimes wholesome re- 
 straint of conjugal authority. 
 
 " In securing youth, beauty, and in- 
 nocence, for the companion of his de- 
 clining years, Mr. Palanquin fancied 
 that he had acquired treasures for 
 which the * wealth of Ormus and of 
 Ind,' were an inadequate price, and 
 for some years he really thought that 
 some nefarious conspiracy, some dire 
 fatality, some unnatural combination of 
 accidental mischances, were at war with 
 his lady's peace ; that in time things 
 would take a better course, and if he 
 had but patience, the moans of his 
 turtle would turn into billing and 
 cooing. But time and a husband's 
 patience are not very likely to improve 
 the tone of a wife's conversation, when 
 miseries such as Farquhar so pleasantly 
 assigns to his Lady Lurewell, are for 
 k 4
 
 200 
 
 ever on the tapis ; and the tirade upon 
 chamber-maids, * for leaving a wrinkle 
 on one side of the bed, and a rumple 
 on the other, the pillows awry, and 
 the quilt askew ;' is followed by a 
 diatribe on blundering tradesmen, 
 whose goods are investigated with, ' I 
 don't know where the fault lies, but in 
 short, I don't like them. The things 
 are well enough ; but, bless me, can't 
 you tell me why they won't do ?' If 
 no real calamity occurs, ' to give such 
 minds a different cast of thought,' 
 man should assume his prerogative, if 
 not on personal or patriotic, at least on 
 chivalrous grounds, and rescue his 
 wedded lady from the fangs of the 
 demon caprice. The task will not be 
 arduous, for excessive fastidiousness, 
 whether we consider it as a vice or 
 an absurdity, is easily reclaimable ; and 
 thousands who, while they had only 
 their own humours to attend to, were
 
 201 
 
 plunged into the depth of misery, or 
 languished on the couch of lassitude, 
 have recovered their peace of mind 
 and their health, on being convinced 
 that they could be no longer indulged, 
 and on being compelled to regard the 
 wishes of others ; thus at length they 
 became obedient to the grand but 
 simple law of nature, which requires us 
 to be social, not selfish animals, and 
 opens to us fresh sources of happiness 
 in proportion as we interest ourselves 
 in the welfare of others. 
 
 " But when I maintain that fastidious- 
 ness may soon be eradicated, I would 
 be understood to suppose it combined 
 with a really kind heart, and assumed 
 by a fine lady to distinguish her qua- 
 lities from the smiling satisfaction and 
 the bland wonder of less ambitious 
 people, who are avowedly pleased with 
 a life of pleasure, at the expence of 
 k 5
 
 202 
 
 forfeiting their claim to refined taste 
 and exquisite feeling ; qualities, certain- 
 ly, very estimable in their genuine state, 
 but to whose adulteration many of the 
 imaginary miseries of life may be as- 
 cribed. Calling things by their right 
 names would greatly tend to correct 
 the errors of our thoughts and actions. 
 If the definitions of taste and sensibility 
 were limited to an intense enjoyment 
 of what is beautiful, and a quick per- 
 ception of what is sublime, domestic 
 comfort would not be sacrificed by pre- 
 tenders to refinement, who assume im- 
 portance only because they are dis- 
 agreeable. 
 
 " Like most other ill-mated husbands, 
 Mr. Palanquin had much to lay to the 
 charge of his own folly. He had oriental 
 habits, not of tyranny, indeed, but of 
 luxury ; and his lady acceded to his 
 wishes, until life sunk under the toil of
 
 203 
 
 living. He encouraged her to call irrita- 
 bility meekness, until contradiction was 
 impracticable, and to fancy caprice de- 
 licacy, until the cravings of wayward 
 inclination became insatiable harpies. 
 Quiet, firm, and equable authority, 
 would have made her ' turn and turn, 
 and be obedient.' Uxorious tenderness 
 is not the likeliest way to render a wife 
 happy or grateful, and few women can 
 resist the temptation of becoming des- 
 pots, when man offers himself to be 
 their passive slave. Mr. Palanquin 
 lamented his error when increased in- 
 firmity prevented him from correcting 
 it. Death interrupted his meditated 
 plans of reform, and his disconsolate 
 widow, left to the uncontrolled enjoy- 
 ment of affluence, now finds herself 
 completely wretched and forlorn. 
 
 "And why is she this pitiable being ? 
 The exterior of her life has been irre- 
 k 6
 
 204 
 
 proachable, for she appears to have 
 conformed to the precepts of religion, 
 virtue, and liberality ; but lift the veil, 
 and trace the ruin of wasted talents in 
 her present anguished feelings ; she 
 has exemplified the scriptural warning, 
 that it is possible to ' give our goods to 
 feed the poor without having charity/ 
 She experiences the painful truism that 
 we may spend thousands on a host of 
 acquaintance without conferring such 
 obligations as secure the attachment of 
 friendship ; she has participated in all 
 the ordinances of religion without feeling 
 the awful delight of com muning with her 
 God; shehas read without improvement, 
 because her mind has been too indelibly 
 prepossessed with her own excellences 
 and injuries to admit the beneficial ap- 
 plication of precept and example ; she 
 has attained a situation in life, to which 
 her youth did not permit her to cast
 
 205 
 
 one hopeful glance, and on her youth- 
 ful days she now reverts her eyes to dis- 
 cover the vestiges of real enjoyment. 
 All that she was taught toconsider the 
 constituents of happiness have been 
 more than granted, and yet she cannot 
 be happy ; she is an object of envy to 
 strangers, and of contempt or pity, to 
 those who see the bitterness of her soul; 
 she stands on a cheerless eminence, rich 
 and powerful, childless and friendless ; 
 too tenacious of authority and liberty 
 to dare to take a second husband, yet 
 ever lamenting the loneliness of her lot, 
 and pining for the comforts of domestic 
 life, with which her cherished selfishness 
 and indulged caprice are incompatible. 
 Solitude and supremacy contribute to 
 the indulgence, rather than the correc- 
 tion of her faults; she cannot, therefore, 
 be improved, but must remain dissatis- 
 fied with every person, and displeased
 
 206 
 
 with every event ; still the goddess of 
 her own idolatry, and the fancied 
 martyr of ills which she cannot bring 
 herself to consider as correctives or as 
 consequences of her errors, but as sins 
 committed by others to try her virtue, 
 for which she believes they will be 
 punished and herself rewarded. This 
 she calls piety and resignation, and 
 while her conversation is one con- 
 tinued self-eulogising elegy, poured 
 forth with floods of tears, she requires 
 you to consider her as the model of 
 patient humility. Her acquaintance, 
 w T ho think her an inconsolable widow, 
 are a little surprised that she should 
 adopt that character ; and as it is diffi- 
 cult to exhibit lamentation without some 
 feeling of grief, she has persuaded her- 
 self that the man whom she married from 
 interest, endured from principle, and 
 mourned from decency, was worthy of 
 her everlasting regret j nay, that when
 
 207 
 
 her own repose was broken by his 
 anguish, or alarmingly interrupted by 
 his phthisis, she was happier than she 
 now is. That conclusion is correct, for 
 there was then one human being about 
 whom she felt interested. 
 
 " And does not this populous empire 
 contain one person to whose comfort 
 she could now contribute, and be repaid 
 by that person's attachment ? She is too 
 selfishly timid to make the trial, and 
 would tell you, that the world is too 
 bad for her to compromise her few re- 
 maining comforts. She has tried adopted 
 nieces and humble friends, who at first 
 promised perfection (in which bright 
 ideal unquestioning submission must 
 be the ruling principle,) but she found 
 an acquiescent companion stupid, and 
 an amusing associate refractory, and 
 even when there seemed no apparent 
 cause for complaint, suspicion (or, as
 
 208 
 
 she called it, vigilance) was required to 
 be painfully on the alert. Beauty 
 might attract beaux, and thus bring 
 some implied censure on her untainted 
 fame ; Wit might hold up her mis- 
 fortunes to ridicule ; taking charge 
 of young people involved a frightful 
 responsibility. If you asked her, were 
 there no old ones, had she neither 
 sister, cousin, nor friend ? she would 
 answer, yes ; but in declining life 
 people's spirits were broken ; she had 
 suffered too much to condemn herself 
 to a voluntary endurance of infirmities 
 and sorrows which it was not her duty 
 to alleviate. Had she been blest with a 
 family of her own, their superintendence 
 would have been delightful, and the 
 social charities would have met their 
 own reward. It would be in vain to ask 
 her if she would expect to have produced 
 angels or immortals : beings who could
 
 209 
 
 neither sin nor suffer ; or to have called 
 her attention to the 
 
 1 woes which parents only prove, 
 
 When daughters sicken or when sons expire.' 
 
 Celibacy and sterility may derive im- 
 provement from such contemplations, 
 but a vain undisciplined mind will never 
 look long enough at a neighbour's for- 
 tunes to be satisfied with its own. It 
 would willingly deposit its burthen of 
 trouble on the mountain of general 
 misery, and bring away the comforts 
 of another person ; but to barter diffi- 
 culty for difficulty, or sorrow for sor- 
 row, would be an unprofitable if not 
 a losing traffic. 
 
 " Mrs. Palanquin's visit at length 
 terminated, but not till the splendour of 
 her emblazoned equipage, and the bou- 
 quets of her footmen, had prevented
 
 210 
 
 my little sociable party whom I saw 
 successively arrive, from presuming to 
 enter my wicket. I was thus left to so- 
 litary contemplation, which, to say truth, 
 I was best disposed to enjoy. Some- 
 thing, it is said, may be learned from 
 the dullest book, for it may at least 
 serve to exercise our patience. Great 
 afflictions are, we know, powerful me- 
 dicines of the soul, and every trifling 
 event may minister to our improvement 
 if we apply 1 right principles in the task 
 of re-consideration. I will confess that 
 the first impulse of my mind was self- 
 gratulation, but the proud thought was 
 soon corrected, or rather softened into 
 humble gratitude. 
 
 " Continuing my meditation, I ex- 
 claimed, 'And can I, with my ready-fur- 
 nished apartments, my two servants, my 
 stands of flowers and shelves of books, 
 be indeed the Aglaus whom this queen
 
 211 
 
 of Lydiabelieves to be happier thanher- 
 self; compelling me so far to subscribe to 
 her conclusion as to feel the same shiver- 
 ing reluctance to an exchange of situa- 
 tions with her, as I should to entering the 
 cave of Trophonius, never more to wear 
 that look of cheerful content which is 
 as offensive to her joyless grandeur, as 
 the independence of Mordecai was to 
 the pride of Haman. It is true I have 
 lost my dearest connections, but I do 
 not feel desolate, for the remembrance 
 of those I tenderly loved is present with 
 me ; and I can not only enjoy their so- 
 ciety in delightful recollections of the 
 past, but from my perfect knowledge 
 of their hearts divine their sentiments, 
 and thus converse with them on passing 
 events, correcting my own judgment 
 by their recollected wisdom. My income 
 is comparatively narrow, but it exceeds 
 the prospects of my youth, and I have
 
 212 
 
 made it adequate to my real wants 
 by regulating my desires. Though I 
 move in a contracted sphere I have no 
 cause to complain of being disliked or 
 disregarded. I take a lively inter- 
 est in the welfare of every one with 
 whom 1 am connected, and that feel- 
 ing is generally- reciprocal. Of this I 
 am confident, I am not overlooked by 
 Him whose paternal care, through all 
 the scenes of my past life I can trace 
 sufficiently to trust my few remaining 
 days to His providence with implicit 
 confidence. The ebullition of self- 
 esteem subsides at the awful consider- 
 ation of mv own weakness, for I know 
 enough of myself to be convinced, that 
 had I been fostered by indulgence, I 
 should have been capricious and selfish. 
 Uninterrupted prosperity, while it chill- 
 ed my finer feelings, would have intro- 
 duced its accustomed brood of imagin-
 
 213 
 
 ary troubles ; blessed, therefore, be the 
 privations which have habituated me to 
 self-control, and the afflictions which 
 have taught me benevolence !"
 
 214 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 M.Y grandmother was fond of present- 
 ing different views of life; sometimes 
 tracing the same passions and desires 
 acting on different characters, under- 
 standings, and situations ; sometimes 
 shifting the scene, and calling up a 
 groupe of living actors. We had Mrs. 
 James's company this evening; her 
 worthy husband was gone to Orissa 
 Park to see if he could, in any way, 
 mediate for Henry in this crisis of his 
 fortunes. Her information convinced 
 us that Ellen's guesses, respecting a 
 young friend of her own being the in- 
 tended bride, were wrong. The General 
 was entrapped by a woman of great art, 
 and worse than doubtful reputation, 
 who had thrown out the lure of beauty,
 
 215 
 
 softness, and affection, to attract amo- 
 rous imbecility; and, refusing any other 
 terms but marriage, was soon to be in- 
 stalled queen of the Zennana, much 
 to the mortification of its present in- 
 habitants, and, it was feared, to Henry's 
 total ruin. 
 
 From the dreary prospects of this 
 hardly-treated youth, whose miseries 
 Mrs. James now owned were aggravated 
 by a long cherished attachment, the 
 conversation adverted to the point of 
 Mrs. Repell's reception in society, and 
 after determining that her guests must 
 be limited to the usual breed of butter- 
 flies that sport in Fortune's sun, the 
 needy, the profligate, the unreflecting, 
 and the dinner-hunting part of the 
 community, and guessing at who might 
 be the new toadies, echoes and fiddles, 
 that would supply the nabob's present 
 guests, Mrs. James and my grand-
 
 216 
 
 mother discussed those laws of society, 
 which restrained a woman of lost cha- 
 racter from associating with those of 
 untainted fame ; or being entitled to 
 the same immunities. Having often 
 met with very agreeable women placed 
 in this predicament, whose advances I 
 was ordered to repel, and whose routs, 
 however splendidly arranged, not a soul 
 above the deputy's family would own they 
 had frequented, I had always thought 
 the law that prescribed such exclusion 
 to be contracted and bigoted, and Ellen 
 pleaded the cause of penitents with 
 much energy ; asking why man should 
 be so unmerciful as to reject what God 
 accepted — contrition for having sinned. 
 " Because," said my grandmother, 
 " the Searcher of Hearts can discern 
 when penitence is sincere, and when it 
 is merely a pretext for restoration to 
 the world's favour. I am not here en-
 
 217 
 
 tering an injunction against the expe- 
 diency of allowing indigence to earn an 
 honest livelihood, against the humane 
 feeling that would mitigate misery, con- 
 ceal unpublished shame, rescue frailty 
 from abandoned vice, or open the doors 
 of near affinity and ancient friendship 
 to a backsliding sister ; and from my 
 inmost soul do I abjure that supercilious 
 pride of untempted chastity which, piqu- 
 ing itself on a purity which could not be 
 defiled, shrinks from the fallen with con- 
 tempt, and withholds the sacred offices 
 of charity from an afflicted heart. All 
 this is different from the loss of caste 
 which true contrition will welcome as 
 a deserved forfeiture, and innocence 
 regard as a warning. Unquestionably 
 it would be more agreeable to live in a 
 world where we have nothing to dread, 
 and in which we might indulge all 
 the kindlier feelings of our nature, and 
 
 VOL, I. L
 
 218 
 
 open our arms and our hearts to all 
 who surround us. But such liberality 
 applies to heaven rather than to earth, 
 and it behoves you young pilgrims, who 
 have just set out on your travels through 
 — shall I call it a wilderness of care, 
 or an arena of trial ? — to consider 
 the case of the innocent, as well as of 
 the guilty, before you attempt to over- 
 turn those cautionary barriers which 
 experience has deemed necessary for 
 the preservation of public morals. How- 
 ever hard these restrictions may seem 
 in some instances, partial evil is, in this 
 case, universal good. There is an audit 
 where the tears of penitence will be ac- 
 cepted, and the record of guilt effaced. 
 In the present state of being, vice and 
 imprudence must reap the fruits of the 
 seed they sow, that the example of their 
 disgrace may preserve others from simi- 
 lar misery. The censor would in vain
 
 219 
 
 talk of moral fitness, or the divine hold 
 forth the future rewards of virtue, if in 
 this world there were neither distinction 
 of character, nor any other social ad- 
 vantage, to separate the contaminated 
 from the correct part of female society. 
 And as the force of legislative enact- 
 ments depends on public opinion, it is 
 too certain that legal restraints on im- 
 morality must be rescinded, whenever 
 general manners become so relaxed as 
 to sanction murmurs against legal aus- 
 terity instead of respectful acquiescence 
 in its inflictions." 
 
 Mrs. James said that she remembered 
 a story affording a melancholy illustra- 
 tion of the evil consequences of one 
 false step, and the very hard case which 
 it included might seem to urge a relax- 
 ation of the laws relating to decorum ; 
 yet, as illustrative of the chariness of 
 the female character, and of the diffi- 
 l 2
 
 220 
 
 culty, it might be said the impossibility, 
 for a delicate mind to be reconciled to 
 the feeling of conscious degradation, 
 she would (trusting to our kindness in 
 allowing her to engross the evening,) 
 attempt the part of narrator. 
 
 "Some years since a young lady came 
 to reside in a country town where herself 
 and her connections were totally un- 
 known. The common name of Mary 
 Williams, and an intimation that she 
 was born abroad, afforded no clue to 
 the investigation of the curious, espe- 
 cially as the members of her establish- 
 ment, which though private was genteel, 
 had nothing to relate, except that they 
 were all hired in London, and had seen 
 their mistress for the first time in her 
 new habitation. Miss William shad great 
 pretensions to beauty and elegance; she 
 never alluded to kindred or friend, 
 yet the polish of her manners indicated
 
 221 
 
 that she had moved in good society, 
 and her style of living, the punctual 
 discharge of her debts, and her prudent 
 liberality to the necessitous, while it 
 refuted all suspicion of imposture, con- 
 firmed her pretensions to the possession 
 of a good fortune. Such indeed were 
 the amenity of her manners, and the 
 propriety of her behaviour, that she 
 soon became popular in a place where 
 sociability was the order of the day. 
 But though the delight of having an 
 agreeable new neighbour induced the 
 most decorous ladies of Fishington to 
 rescind in favour of Miss Williams the 
 rule which required previous intro- 
 duction, it was soon discovered, that 
 while she endured visiting with so much 
 well-bred resignation that no one could 
 complain of neglect, she was one of 
 those who esteemed solitude the best 
 society. It was also remarked, that 
 l 3
 
 222 
 
 she had ever some reason for avoiding 
 strangers who were casual visitants, 
 and shrunk from an introduction to the 
 friends of friends ; that even in her 
 most brilliant moods, her smiles were 
 pensive rather than irradiating, her voice 
 always tremulous, her movements lan- 
 guid, her observations tinged with me- 
 lancholy, and her general deportment 
 that of one who, while bleeding under 
 a cureless sorrow, strove to conceal it. 
 She would have been set down for a 
 methodist, but that she played at cards ; 
 and, though she did not attend the 
 theatre, she permitted that amusement 
 to her household, and contributed to 
 the distresses of the actors. After a 
 year's residence, it was observed that she 
 did not change the garb of slight mourn- 
 ing in which she had made her debut ; 
 it was therefore inferred that the hand 
 of death had broken the staff on which
 
 223 
 
 her soul reposed. A few persons fan- 
 cied that such lasting grief might result 
 from filial or fraternal affection, but 
 every youthful heart felt a tenfold in- 
 terest in the amiable stranger, from the 
 supposition that she was a self-devoted 
 victim to the anguish of losing her first 
 love. 
 
 " While every rule of etiquette, or 
 those higher laws of good-breeding 
 which sometimes diffuse a glow of real 
 feeling into the cold forms of well- 
 mannered civility, was scrupulously dis- 
 charged, Miss Williams gradually dis- 
 tinguished with her favour one lady, 
 who, from an intimate companion, be- 
 came a confidential friend ; at least, so 
 the neighbours believed, and wondered 
 at the selection which preferred a cha- 
 racter so dissimilar to her own, that it 
 seemed as if she and Clara Sydney could 
 not have a sentiment in common. Clara 
 l 4
 
 was tolerated rather than liked, because 
 she was of a gentleman's family ; be- 
 cause she had been an excellent daugh- 
 ter, and a most kind sister; because 
 some affectionately remembered her 
 mother, while others were afraid of 
 offending her ; but as she said the se- 
 verest and did the strangest things, the 
 trite apologies of having a good heart, 
 or of meaning no ill, were in constant 
 requisition on her behalf. How could 
 a person whose disposition was the re- 
 verse of elegance and softness, who 
 studied more to alarm than to conci- 
 liate, and strove to prove her inde- 
 pendence at the expense of her polite- 
 ness, accord with a woman who was all 
 refinement and unoffending diffidence ? 
 But friendship, like love, often amuses 
 itself in contrarieties ; and, without 
 seeking for an explanation in that fund of 
 secret history and degrading anecdote
 
 225 
 
 which Clara was known to possess, it was 
 agreed that her talent, repartee, and in- 
 formation, must be efficacious in divert- 
 ing a mind sick of itself, yet fearing to 
 commune with others to any extent 
 beyond the nothings and the echoes of 
 nothing which circulate in what are 
 called parties, where an intellectual 
 remark is stared at as a prodigy, or pon- 
 dered over as an inexplicable problem. 
 "Clara's earliest youth had been pass- 
 ed in the great world, where a lucrative 
 profession enabled her father to make 
 a respectable appearance. The means 
 of course failed at his death, and she 
 cheerfully parted with half her moiety 
 of her mother's fortune to establish a 
 darling and very promising brother in 
 the army. The restraints of poverty 
 she endured magnanimously ; not so 
 the coolness and neglect which her high 
 spirit either felt or fancied in the be- 
 l 5
 
 haviour of those with whom she had 
 associated as intimates and regarded as 
 equals. Incapable of servility, unprac- 
 tised in acquiescence, and intractable 
 in acquiring new habits suited to her 
 change of fortune, Clara Sydney deter- 
 mined to enter on a new scene ; and 
 feeling rather resentful than depressed, 
 supposed that her wit, abilities, con- 
 nections, and knowledge of the world, 
 would allow her to move as a great 
 lady among the bourgeois, a life which 
 she preferred to that of sitting as no- 
 body among elegantes, a worn-out fa- 
 shionable. 
 
 " Despising rather than regretting 
 the circle she had left, and ridiculing 
 that into which she was admitted, Miss 
 Sydney seemed like a flying fish, never 
 in her proper element, and found but 
 one object on which her naturally 
 strong affections could repose \ that was
 
 227 
 
 her absent brother, then urging his 
 rapid career to military renown. Her 
 lively interest in his dangers, her im- 
 passioned zeal for his fame, her never 
 wearied eulogy on his merits as a man, 
 and on his exploits as a hero, varied 
 her conversation, which otherwise, not- 
 withstanding her natural good sense 
 and literary attainments, would, to say 
 the truth, have too much resembled the 
 memoirs of the Count de Grammont ; 
 for she was known as a walking register 
 of all the faux pas that had occurred in 
 high life for several generations, and as 
 an entertaining, though not always 
 good-humoured caricaturist of the ab- 
 surdities of her acquaintance. 
 
 " The ladies had become inseparable 
 companions. Miss Williams was ob- 
 served to have stolen a little of her 
 friend's gaiety and archness, and Clara 
 to have softened the acerbity of her 
 l 6
 
 delineations, when Captain Sydney re- 
 turned from an unsuccessful enterprise, 
 wounded, out of health, a captive on 
 parole, permitted, by a triumphant but 
 humane enemy, to recruit his shattered 
 constitution in his native country. 
 These were not the circumstances in 
 which the high-minded Clara expected 
 to receive him, but he was still " her 
 heart's dear Harry ;" and however in- 
 convenient his sojourn might be in her 
 small lodgings and to her scanty purse, 
 she saw in the broken-down soldier but 
 one more reason for quarrelling with 
 the world, and loving him. Her bed- 
 chamber was instantly resigned to the in- 
 valid, and her little sitting-room crowded 
 with a press bedstead for herself. In 
 the morning she exercised the duties 
 of nurse, cook, and housemaid ; and in 
 the evening, when her brother was able 
 to sit up, she combated his depression
 
 229 
 
 of spirits by a game at draughts or 
 piquet; nay she even allowed him to beat 
 her at chess, which, from one esteem- 
 ed invincible, was no small sacrifice. 
 She also accepted the offer of Tim 
 Titlepage's library, and borrowed a 
 poney-chaise from the young ladies at 
 the Green Dragon, to drive him out. 
 She sat cheerfully rattling the keys of 
 her piano in her rumpled cap and faded 
 gawn, exhilarated by the recollection 
 that Henry had relished the chicken 
 and asparagus which her rigid economy 
 had enabled her to procure for him, and 
 had praised her newly acquired culi- 
 nary skill. One only comfort was 
 wanting, the society of Miss Williams ; 
 but she could not leave her dear Harry 
 even for a moment, and till he was ad- 
 vanced to the second stage of conva- 
 lescence, her regard for his appearance 
 would not allow her to introduce him
 
 230 
 
 to her friend. That friend regularly 
 called with enquiries and offers of what- 
 ever her house and gardens afforded ; 
 while the high spirited Clara, drest in 
 her housewifely apron, was always pro- 
 vided with every thing that Harry 
 wanted, and generally contrived by 
 some piquant remark on her own style 
 of adornment, or Mrs. Mayoress's new 
 ultra-auburn tete> to extort a smile from 
 her pensive friend, and to send her home 
 wondering at Clara's enviable spirits 
 and unexpected resources. 
 
 "Under the care of such an excellent 
 nurse, Captain Sydney regained health; 
 and when the feebleness of sickness 
 somewhat subsided, Miss Williams was 
 invited up stairs, where, wrapped in his 
 morning gown, pale and thin, his eyes 
 beaming with intelligence, and his coun- 
 tenance alike indicative of reflection 
 and fortitude, the war-worn soldier re-
 
 231 
 
 ceived his lovely and elegant guest with 
 expressions of gratitude for the interest 
 she had testified in his recovery. Clara's 
 descriptions had already made them 
 mutually acquainted : they felt at ease ; 
 a sentiment which is either ominous or 
 indicative of reciprocal approval. The 
 Captain was soon able to mount the 
 poney-chaise, and return the visit ; 
 and the tete-a-tete which had furnished 
 the neighbourhood with so many re- 
 marks, now changed into a trio equally 
 productive. Of course a wedding would 
 take place when the Captain's rapidly 
 recruiting health should be fully con- 
 firmed ; and the introductory friend- 
 ship of the ladies was satisfactorily ac- 
 counted for, by the conclusion that 
 Clara was a sly girl, and Miss Williams 
 on the look out for a husband. 
 
 " But though the pair, thus suddenly 
 yoked in Hymen's bands by their ac-
 
 232 
 
 quaintance, were certainly pleased with 
 each other, they had experienced too 
 deeply the vicissitudes of human affairs 
 to verify so prompt an anticipation. 
 Each had known what it was to love, 
 and to regret the predominance of the 
 tender passion. The Captain's early 
 betrothed had fallen a victim to that 
 insidious disease consumption, ren- 
 dered more rapid in its advances by her 
 father's disapprobation of her attach- 
 ment ; and his tender affections ap- 
 peared to have withered with the flower 
 which he could not preserve from pe- 
 rishing. Habitual reserve prevented 
 Miss Williams from entering into those 
 details with Clara which usually con- 
 solidate female intimacies ; but the 
 flushing variation of her looks, when 
 love or lovers were the subject, and the 
 emphasis with which she spoke of the 
 tender passion as destructive of woman's
 
 233 
 
 peace, so different from her accustomed 
 gentleness, indicated that she had not 
 always been so fortified against its power 
 as she now professed to be, but that 
 singleness had rather been forced on 
 her as a penance than selected as her 
 choice. 
 
 " Still the trio formed each other's 
 little world ; their habits, their tastes 
 accorded : and, though Clara had uni- 
 versal credit as a successful intriguante, 
 it was not till she saw her brother 
 whistle away the hours of Mary's ab- 
 sence, and Mary become ennut/ee and 
 vapourish when Sydney was not pre- 
 sent, that the possibility of their being 
 united occurred to her mind. The 
 conjecture of such an union was im- 
 mediately followed by a conviction of 
 its impropriety. The obstacles arose 
 from Henry's high and generous spirit, 
 as well as from the yet glowing embers
 
 234 
 
 of his first love ; his fortune was spent, 
 his military career impeded, and she 
 knew that his noble disposition would 
 never brook the indignity of receiving 
 subsistence from a wife : or, should he 
 be enabled to resume his course to 
 glory, Miss Williams's extreme sus- 
 ceptibility would make her an unfit 
 helpmate for one who was bearding 
 danger " in the imminent deadly 
 breach." Instead, therefore, of the 
 honourable occupation which her 
 friends assigned to her, Miss Sydney 
 regretted their intimacy as soon as she 
 perceived it likely to embitter the lives 
 of two persons whom she preferred to 
 all the rest of the world. But a change 
 of fortune produced an alteration in 
 her opinion. A peace liberated the 
 Captain from his parole, and the sudden 
 unexpected death of a young relation, 
 to whom he was next heir, summoned
 
 235 
 
 him from Fishington to take possession 
 of a handsome estate. ' Before I go,' 
 said he to his sister, « and lest I should 
 die on the road, I shall send for an 
 attorney, and secure to the noblest- 
 minded girl in the world the payment 
 of her debt. Clara, I owe you ten 
 thousand pounds.' 
 
 " ' Am I a Jewess, Harry ?' returned 
 she, 'two thousand was all I gave 
 you.' 
 
 " « Lent me, rather ; ' returned the 
 Captain, ' on a risk that doubled the 
 loan, and with a cordiality that in- 
 creased it fivefold. But if you assume 
 that obstinate air, I shall insist on doing 
 as you did, and will divide my cousin's 
 property with you.' 
 
 " ' Nay,' said Clara, laughing, « these 
 usurious proposals denote desperate 
 intentions, and I must remind you of 
 the claims of a certain fair creditor,
 
 236 
 
 who, if I mistake not, has a judgment 
 bond against you for person as well as 
 for effects. Take care that Hymen 
 has you not in durance before you are 
 aware.' 
 
 "Sydney admitted his sister's infe- 
 rence, by saying, that he could not 
 treat it ludicrously. He rejoiced, that 
 the obstacle which had condemned 
 him to silence, was removed by this 
 extraordinary burst of prosperity ; and 
 though the blandishments of youthful 
 hope would never more so irradiate 
 the durance to which Clara had alluded, 
 as to disguise its inconvenience, still he 
 would declare, that to be there incar- 
 cerated with her fair friend was the 
 happiest abode his fancy could picture. 
 But before he committed his own 
 honour, and the lady's delicacy, by an 
 avowal of his preference, he wished to 
 know — perhaps Clara could tell him
 
 237 
 
 — something might have transpired in 
 the confidence of female friendship, 
 which, circumstanced as he now was, 
 it would not be dishonourable in his 
 sister to intimate. He grew embar- 
 rassed, Miss Sydney felt a little angry, 
 but considering prudence to be no great 
 fault in a lover past thirty, who had seen 
 the world and felt difficulties, answered 
 by explaining what she knew of her 
 friend's pecuniary resources ; enume- 
 rated seven thousand pounds in one 
 stock and five in another, before the 
 Captain begged her to stop. He de- 
 clared, that she had misunderstood him, 
 since what he wanted to know was the 
 lady's previous history ; her motive for 
 fixing where she was quite unknown ; 
 why she never alluded to kindred, 
 friends, or acquaintance; and again (he 
 looked very significantly on his sister) 
 why on certain points she was always so
 
 238 
 
 warm, and, in reference to the stronger 
 sex, so uncharitable. Clara took fire, 
 and expatiated on the mean suspicion 
 that lurked in such curiosity; adding 
 that, in any other mind than his own, she 
 would have strengthened the doubts 
 she now sought to subdue. But her 
 assurance that Miss Williams could 
 give satisfactory reasons for her seclu- 
 sion and privacy, of which he was not 
 worthy to be informed ; and her in- 
 dignant question, whether he thought 
 she would be accessary to marrying him 
 to a woman of mean origin, or tainted 
 fame, humbled the inquisitor into the 
 penitent ; and a letter was expedited 
 which gave Mary the power of en- 
 hancing the gifts that fortune had 
 show r ered upon him, by consenting to 
 share them. 
 
 " Clara loved her brother too well to 
 be inexorable, and though very angry
 
 239 
 
 that his confidence in the strict recti- 
 tude of her friend had not the same 
 character of religious faith as her own, 
 she consented to relieve the anxieties 
 of both by calling to see how the letter 
 was received. She found Mary, not 
 all in tears, like Niobe, nor with the 
 blush of love reddening her cheek, like 
 Juliet, but transformed into the marble 
 statue of despair, wan, shivering, almost 
 distracted, looking as our general mo- 
 ther may be supposed to have looked 
 when lingering in the precincts of that 
 paradise from which she was expa- 
 triated. She immediately began to 
 discuss the subject of Henry's letter, 
 requesting that it might never be again 
 alluded to. She acknowledged his 
 deserts, her own esteem for his merit, 
 and the flattering views which an 
 alliance with her dearest friend sug- 
 gested, but begged Clara to tell him,
 
 240 
 
 that it was her own unworthiness, and 
 no other consideration, which com- 
 pelled her to decline what, if she could 
 
 she paused, and in a hurried 
 
 manner, added, if she could think bet- 
 ter of herself, w r ould have been the 
 pride of her life. Such lowliness in a 
 woman of fortune, such self-abasement 
 in one so lovely, combined with an 
 admission of self-denial, constituted an 
 excess of delicacy and timidity. — 
 These were the very errors she had 
 often condemned, the only ones of 
 w T hich she thought her dearest Mary 
 could be guilty. As such Clara com- 
 bated them, and determined to be 
 satisfied with her own share of penetra- 
 tion, by refuting her friend's scruples, 
 and concealing them from her brother, 
 to whom she only reported that her 
 angel Mary certainly loved him ; she 
 accomplished her wishes in time, with
 
 241 
 
 the aid of a pleader in the fair one's 
 bosom, and Mary Williams, persuaded 
 that all her disparaging confessions had 
 been reported to her lover, consented 
 to become Mrs, Sydney. 
 
 " For some time the union was un- 
 usually felicitous. The lady's uncom- 
 mon gentleness did not prove, as is often 
 the case, the drawing-room robe of a 
 chamber-termagant. It was the effect 
 of real humility and sweetness, and in- 
 sensibly brightened into a mild cheer- 
 fulness under the influence of an intel- 
 ligent and indulgent husband ; while 
 the correctness of her manners and her 
 affectionate deportment made Sydney 
 at times ashamed that he had ever 
 harboured doubt, and again surprised 
 at the reserve, which never in their 
 happiest hours reposed that prompt 
 confidence in his affection, which deli- 
 cacy forbade him to solicit. But rely- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 
 
 ing on Clara's suggestion, that her 
 friend's sorrows might be too agonizing 
 to bear repetition, he avoided with the 
 most guarded care every disclosure of 
 his own feelings, only hoping that time 
 would soon so far subdue hers, as to 
 permit the unreservedness which in 
 his character of husband he felt that 
 he had a right to enjoy. 
 
 ff Every requisite for happiness 
 seemed now in their possession, except 
 health. The captain's constitution had 
 suffered from his wounds, and from a 
 warm climate. A residence at Bath 
 was proposed, but the invalid could 
 not exile himself from the society of 
 his wife and sister. Mrs. Sydney's 
 dislike of public places yielded at length 
 to conjugal affection ; yet was it evi- 
 dent that she submitted to the change 
 with reluctance, and felt more dissatis- 
 faction and uneasiness than were justi-
 
 243 
 
 fled by the mere privations of the 
 comforts of home. Sydney was too 
 sensible a man to be vain of a handsome 
 wife, or unduly to appreciate a domestic 
 one ; yet he could not but remark with 
 surprise, and also with pain, that his 
 Mary never would go into public, and 
 that even in her morning promenades 
 she was enveloped in a large bonnet 
 and a thick veil. Had she never mixed 
 in society? Her manner disproved that 
 conclusion ; and surely, attended by a 
 husband so conversant with its forms, 
 and a sister so competent to comply 
 with its requisitions, diffidence might 
 venture where admiration would be its 
 sure guerdon. What could be the 
 cause? Sydney was meditating on 
 this subject one morning during their 
 usual lounge, when he felt his wife's 
 arm tremble as it rested on his, as 
 with a faltering voice she entreated 
 m 2
 
 C 2U 
 
 to go home directly. The deadly 
 paleness of her cheek certified her as- 
 surance that she was taken ill ; but as 
 he threw back her veil to give her air, 
 he observed a bold-looking man of 
 mean and vulgar appearance, with his 
 eyes fixed on her countenance ; while 
 gasping for breath, and tottering from 
 weakness, she drew her veil around her, 
 and hid her face on his shoulder from 
 the gaze of the stranger, who now ad- 
 vanced to offer his assistance with a look 
 of pleased recognition, which planted 
 daggers in the husband's heart. 
 
 " The offer was declined : Mrs. Sydney 
 reached home, soon recovered from her 
 faintness, and assumed unusual gaiety. 
 This might be a commendable artifice, 
 to divert the fears of affection. There 
 was nothing strange in a delicate wo- 
 man's swooning after a fatiguing walk ; 
 nor was it strange that beauty should
 
 245 
 
 attract the notice of an uncouth man ; 
 and the look which the captain caught 
 might be the offended sneer of vul- 
 garity at finding its offered aid rejected, 
 for it corresponded well with the 
 stranger's rubicund face, goggle eyes, 
 purple coat, coachman's wig, and im- 
 mense chitterlings. Other unpleasant 
 incidents soon occurring, proved how 
 adviseable it is that married people 
 should cherish a confidence without 
 any reserves, and either avoid what they 
 know is disagreeable to the other, or if 
 compelled to act otherwise, conduct 
 their affairs with openness, and defy 
 discovery. There was no harm in 
 Mrs. Sydney's writing or receiving let- 
 ters without her husband's privacy ; but 
 as he found after this rencontre that a 
 correspondence existed which was care- 
 fully concealed from his knowledge, 
 vague curiosity gave place to a more 
 m 3
 
 246 
 
 determinate feeling in regard to her 
 former history. She might go out at 
 an unusual hour after declining to 
 walk with him, on an innocent or even 
 commendable errand; but when he 
 recognised her as she came out of an 
 obscure lodging house, he started, 
 asked himself if that could have been 
 a charitable visit, dogged her home, 
 and then, repassing the house, saw the 
 rubicund face of the stranger peeping 
 over the window blinds. Who or 
 what could he be ? father ? kinsman ? 
 friend? A just pride forbade other 
 conclusions. Mary had evinced suffi- 
 cient inborn worth to reconcile his 
 once reluctant mind to the degradation 
 of a low alliance ; but she ought to 
 have been explicit. Yet he would wait 
 the event. 
 
 " The party returned from Bath 
 amended in health but depressed in
 
 247 
 
 spirits. Mrs. Sydney purchased no 
 new clothes, and was circumspect even 
 to parsimony in her domestic expences. 
 Yet she was without money. Traces 
 of tears were often discernible on her 
 face, and she grew prone to those 
 querulous complaints on the waste of 
 servants, the hardness of the times, and 
 the dearness of provisions, which, in 
 establishments subject to the control 
 of wives, who pique themselves on 
 domestic management, often prove the 
 death-knell of connubial enjoyment. 
 The secret correspondence, commenced 
 at Bath, was continued ; and the recol- 
 lection of the purple-coated stranger 
 introduced a host of anxieties into 
 Sydney's imagination. At length 
 he received a letter, superbly sealed, 
 with emblazoned arms, from Timothy 
 Jilkes, M. D., soliciting his recom- 
 mendation and vote, as a proper candi- 
 M 4
 
 248 
 
 date for the appointment of physician 
 to a charity which the Captain pa- 
 tronised, giving reference to Mrs. Syd- 
 ney for full information as to the pro- 
 priety of his pretensions, expressing 
 entire reliance on her good offices, and 
 adding his perfect confidence that the 
 Captain, on further enquiry, would 
 warmly second his application. 
 
 " A request, conveyed so much in 
 the form of a demand, a claim made on 
 his wife's friendship with such offensive 
 freedom, determined Sydney against 
 compliance ; indeed, had he fully re- 
 tained the feelings that animated him 
 during the first months of marriage, he 
 would have burned the letter without 
 deigning a reply. But after a few 
 days' struggle between mortified affec- 
 tion and doubt, his desire of an eclair- 
 cissement determined him to name the 
 affair to his wife. He began with
 
 249 
 
 stating that he had received a letter 
 from Dr. Timothy Jilkes. A piercing 
 shriek prevented him from proceeding. 
 He looked at his wife ; she did not faint, 
 but with glowing cheeks, uplifted eyes, 
 and clasped hands, sat like a criminal 
 expecting a worse doom than death. 
 Sydney started from his seat : * For 
 heaven's sake, dearest Mary, deem 
 me worthy of your confidence ! ' A 
 torrent of tears relieved the afflicted 
 lady ; her head rested on her husband's 
 shoulder, and while she pressed his 
 offered hand to her lips, the peace-cor- 
 roding secret seemed ready to escape. 
 Again she recoiled, and with a faint 
 smile of hope on her face asked, 
 " ' What does he say to you ? ' 
 " • He begs,' replied the Captain, 
 * my services, — my very active ser- 
 vices he presumes upon, to get him 
 
 appointed physician to Hospital ; 
 
 m 5
 
 250 
 
 a strange request, from one whose 
 name, until his letter arrived, was per- 
 fectly unknown to me. I would wil- 
 lingly serve him in some other way 
 if he be any near connexion of yours, 
 for he assures me that you will interest 
 yourself very warmly in his favour.' 
 
 " ' There the villain miscalculates/ 
 exclaimed the lady. ' He is a wretch 
 equally destitute of ability and charac- 
 ter. I will never be instrumental to 
 his advancement, and will brave his 
 malevolence. Give me the letter : I 
 will answer it.' 
 
 " ' You use strong language,' said 
 the Captain, f and certainly do excite 
 the greatest uneasiness in my mind. 
 There, Mary, is the letter ; answer it 
 as you please, remembering that you 
 are the guardian of my honour, as well 
 as of your own.' 
 
 In giving her the fatal epistle, he
 
 251 
 
 again pressed her hand, but it was now 
 cold and tremulous ; it returned no 
 response to the kind greeting. Such 
 pertinacious silence, and at a moment 
 too when he reposed such unlimited, 
 apparently undeserved confidence in 
 her conduct ! He retired indignantly 
 to his study, where, as his sister was 
 absent, and as he received no summons 
 from his wife, he sat too much absorbed 
 in angry sullenness to notice how the 
 time wore away, till midnight was 
 passed. 
 
 " He was roused from his reverie by 
 Clara's appearance, who, with a hor- 
 ror-stricken aspect, asked what was to 
 be done ? her sister was not returned. 
 The servants were called : they could 
 only state, that about half an hour 
 after their master left the dining-room, 
 their mistress went out with the house- 
 maid, who carried a bundle, and they 
 m 6
 
 252 
 
 thought they were gone to visit a sick 
 pensioner. The butler anxiously asked 
 if he should inquire at the inns ; but 
 the return of the terrified maid ren- 
 dered inquiry useless in that neighbour- 
 hood. She said she had accompanied 
 her lady to the high road, and saw her 
 get into a stage coach, whither travel- 
 ling she knew not ; she only perceived 
 her to be in severe distress, and she 
 thought her wrong in her mind, for she 
 said at parting, that they would see her 
 no more. 
 
 " In a short time the mystery was re- 
 vealed. Sydney received a packet, 
 which thanked him for his unremitting 
 kindness, and conjured him to treat 
 her memory with as much lenity as his 
 known delicacy would admit. It ac- 
 knowledged that she required forgive- 
 ness ; but added, she did not dare to 
 ask for what, if granted, would afford
 
 <253 
 
 no alleviation to sorrows long endured, 
 and now become too acute to receive 
 other termination than from the hand 
 of death, on which her principles for- 
 bade her to rush, though she must wel- 
 come it as her only friend. Another 
 letter was addressed to Clara, strongly, 
 but affectionately, reproving her for 
 having withheld from her high-minded 
 brother that general confession of un- 
 worthiness which was all she could 
 bring herself to divulge to friends whom 
 she valued too dearly to renounce their 
 society. Had what she said been re- 
 peated, she now, too late, discovered that 
 Sydney would have declined his suit, 
 and she would have avoided the misery 
 of involving him in a disgrace which 
 she knew he must, in another's case, 
 deem indelible. She could not describe 
 her own anguish, because words were 
 inadequate. My readers, like her ago-
 
 254 
 
 nised husband, will anticipate her his- 
 tory. Seduced by affection, abandoned 
 by levity, and the prey of avarice, she 
 strove, in vain, to attain a station in so- 
 ciety inferior to that in which she had 
 once moved, but capable of yielding 
 her the solace of privacy and peace. 
 Her seducer and the guiltless evidence 
 of her shame were both dead ere she 
 had ventured to become a wife; but 
 there were many who knew her as one 
 of a noble family, and believed that 
 through caprice she was now a resident 
 in a distant quarter of the globe. One 
 person only knew her disgrace, and 
 could also fix her identity ; that person 
 she had accidentally met ; he had 
 learned the connection which she had 
 formed ; and she had ever since been 
 the prey to his rapacity. Convinced 
 of the impenetrability of that tiger's 
 heart, and disdaining to compromise
 
 255 
 
 Sydney's honour, she saw no alterna- 
 tive but to divorce herself from all she 
 loved, submitting the reputation she 
 had vainly struggled to preserve to 
 the reproach she merited ; and only 
 hoping to gain pardon from heaven, 
 and find rest in the grave. 
 
 " A heart less humane than that of 
 Sydney could not fail to have softened 
 at this address. He now condemned 
 those nice feelings which had led him 
 to question whether it were possible for 
 a fallen woman to preserve delicacy ; 
 and Clara execrated the bitter irony 
 with which she had pursued female 
 frailty ; for both now too well recol- 
 lected that Mary's cheek always 
 blanched at such conversations. To 
 find and to console the fugitive became 
 their dearest wish, and the packet, 
 though undated, furnished a clue : but 
 she had left her first retreat ; and when,
 
 256 
 
 after long search she was traced to an 
 obscure lodging, the discovery was too 
 late. The faculties of her mind were 
 enfeebled, while disease made irresist- 
 ible progress in her frame. Reason re- 
 turned previous to her mortal struggle : 
 she saw Sydney, recognised and blessed 
 him ; but declared, that after her shame 
 had been divulged, no confidence on 
 his side could have silenced her self- 
 reproach, or have restored self-esteem. 
 She excused in Clara the duplicity which 
 arose from unsuspecting innocence and 
 strong regard. They then told her 
 that still her disgrace was undisco- 
 vered, the villain Jilkes having left the 
 kingdom, and the good people of Fish- 
 ington had ascribed her flight to a disor- 
 dered intellect, which was also regarded 
 as the cause of the few eccentricities 
 discerned in her behaviour. On hear- 
 ing this, her dying features evinced her
 
 257 
 
 high estimation of untainted fame, even 
 at the moment when every human feel- 
 ing was fast subsiding. With a faint 
 smile she articulated 'That is well!' 
 and laying her finger on her lips, as 
 enjoining silence, expired." 
 
 " And do the conservators of public 
 morals," said my grandmother, (re- 
 membering her objections on a preced- 
 ing evening to the meretricious elo- 
 quence of counsel, and the verdicts of 
 juries in recent trials for seduction and 
 adultery,) " do the conservators of pub- 
 lic morals wish to modify this feeling, 
 which is the surest guard of the sanc- 
 tities of life, though it sent an erring, 
 but not abandoned young lady, to a 
 premature grave, while these frequent 
 appeals to publicity assure us that de- 
 licacy is losing ground, and religion 
 is evidently paralysed in its restraining 
 influence? Will the vices which the
 
 258 
 
 word of God assures us must even- 
 tually exclude from His kingdom, be 
 restrained in their demonising triumph 
 by that lenity which would snatch the 
 scales from justice, and condemn de- 
 corum as a rigid bigot ? Is it not the 
 most palpable perversion of Christian 
 charity to acquit bold unchastity in that 
 scriptural form of forgiveness which 
 is proper to be used by him alone, 
 the Searcher of hearts, who knows and 
 absolves true penitents ? The practices 
 which forfeit our heavenly hopes, will 
 promote neither our earthly prosperity 
 nor our country's welfare ; for the 
 more this world resembles the future 
 glorious inheritance, the happier will 
 be its inhabitants. To subdue passion, 
 is to secure not only purity, but peace ; 
 to indulge it, is to incur pain and peril. 
 Ask what most decidedly banishes re- 
 pose from the husband's mind, and
 
 259 
 
 comfort from the father's heart, and 
 do not expect to find the most miserable 
 of men in the dwelling of disease or 
 poverty, for there may exist a hope 
 of restored health, and of better cir- 
 cumstances ; but look for misery in 
 the abode of him, whatever may be his 
 station, who has a faithless wife or a 
 wanton daughter. The universal mania 
 for seeing girls richly married, and pro- 
 viding amusements for the young and 
 the fair, stifles those affections which 
 help to preserve the sanctity of mar- 
 riage : and the clamours of perpetual 
 dissipation drown the voices of con- 
 science and religion. What then is 
 there left to guard the wife who, too 
 late, finds that she has been sacrificed on 
 the altar of Plutus, or the young woman 
 who is taught that the end of her ex- 
 istence is to secure a lover, from yield- 
 ing to solicitations, seconded by a trea-
 
 260 
 
 cherous advocate in her own bosom, 
 but the conviction that the world she 
 idolises will then reject her ; that the 
 discovery of her offence involves ba- 
 nishment from those scenes of splen- 
 dour and gaiety which are her heaven ; 
 and that she must ever after hide her 
 dishonoured head, or glide about, a 
 nameless outcast, the jest or the pity of 
 her late companions, who, with prin- 
 ciples, perhaps, equally unstable, have 
 had the good fortune to escape tempt- 
 ation or publicity ?" 
 
 Mrs. James, repeating the sentiments 
 of her husband, acknowledged that the 
 love of praise and the fear of shame, 
 considered abstractedly, were not Chris- 
 tian motives of action ; but argued, that 
 a salutary direction might be given to 
 them ; and that, in times of relaxed 
 morals, they must be secured and en- 
 gaged to do service to the altar, and
 
 261 
 
 to render them efficient auxiliaries, pub- 
 lic opinion must remain fixed at a high 
 standard : not (so witness Heaven !) 
 for the purpose of diminishing a general 
 consciousness of human infirmity, or of 
 extinguishing sympathy with those who 
 fall ; but for that of checking the con- 
 tagion, and diminishing the number of 
 unhappy women who forget that coward 
 and strumpet are equivalent terms of 
 reproach, applicable to the degradation 
 which, in the respective sexes, is deemed 
 indelible. And, surely, it would be too 
 much to endanger the sacrifice of one 
 husband's peace, or one parent's hope, 
 for all the specious eulogies with which 
 sophistry deludes our weakness, by mis- 
 calling it " the milk of human kind- 
 ness j" thus inducing us to increase the 
 burden of general misery, by our vain 
 attempts to prevent the weight from 
 falling into that scale where it would
 
 262 
 
 assist the injunctions of conscience and 
 the warnings of religion, forming a 
 counterpoise against the allurements of 
 our great spiritual enemies, while it 
 operates as a preservative from sin, and 
 consequently from sorrow.
 
 <263 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 The Browns and the Smiths came one 
 evening to tea, and the subject of ac- 
 complishments, as tending to recom- 
 mend young women to the notice of 
 their superiors, and possibly, also, to 
 advantageous connections, was intro- 
 duced by Mrs. Brown's evident triumph 
 at the distinguishing attentions which 
 her daughter had received at an election 
 ball. Mary had been taken out by 
 Sir Frederick Flutter, the popular 
 and successful candidate at our neigh- 
 bouring borough town. The Miss 
 Flutters had commended her frock, 
 and the lady mother had invited her to 
 Fiusterly Hall, whither she was to go 
 as soon as a suitable dress arrived from 
 London. In fine, if one might credit
 
 264 
 
 the smiles, nods, and inuendos, that 
 abounded on this occasion, our friend 
 Mary was in a fair way to become a 
 great lady. 
 
 This ball took place just on my ar- 
 rival at Ringrove, and I had some sus- 
 picion that Ellen longed to go, and 
 was interdicted from indulging that 
 wish by my grandmother's disappro- 
 bation. Mary's triumph, as detailed 
 by her mother, and indeed indicated 
 by a visible elevation of her head, and 
 a newly-acquired bend, designed to be 
 graceful, but, unhappily, only produc- 
 ing a screw, had some effect in cloud- 
 ing Ellen's joyous face ; and certainly 
 did increase the usually sombrous longi- 
 tude of mine. I believe we were both 
 glad when our guests were gone, that 
 we might give such vent to our spleen 
 as respect or affection permitted. " All 
 the girls, I think, have strange good
 
 265 
 
 luck," said I, looking in the glass, 
 " and yet no pretensions to beauty. A 
 little crump thing ; ill drest, and no 
 air of fashion." Ellen came to the 
 point at once. 
 
 "How very fortunate Mary Brown 
 is ! Dear grandmamma, why did you 
 not let me go to the election ball ?" 
 
 " One reason was, because the sum 
 that must have been expended was 
 otherwise appropriated." I caught her 
 eye directing Ellen's to me as she spoke ; 
 and a blush of detection tinged her 
 pale face. She held out her hand to 
 me: " Emma, love, I fear you find the 
 country dull : whatever comforts and 
 enjoyments 1 can procure are freely 
 yours." Then turning to Ellen, "I 
 have answered your question, and in 
 return must beg you to tell me, why is 
 Mary Brown deemed so fortunate, and 
 
 vol. i. x
 
 266 
 
 your seclusion from this scene of gaiety 
 so dolorous?" 
 
 " Dear grandmamma, I never com- 
 plained of any restrictions which you 
 imposed ; and you have said enough to 
 convince me that you were right- But 
 surely, dancing with Sir Frederick and 
 an invitation to Flusterly Hall, are very 
 agreeable distinctions/' 
 
 " Neither of which would have been 
 your lot 5 for I cannot command se- 
 venteen votes in the borough : and I 
 much doubt whether Mary's honours 
 will be repeated ; at least, not unless 
 she continue Miss Brown at the next 
 general election, and her father be 
 equally prosperous in his manufactory." 
 
 " Well, but, grandmamma, allowing 
 our fine people to be interested in their 
 attentions, it will permit Mary to see 
 the world." 
 
 " Name the advantage of this to a
 
 267 
 
 young woman who has no chance of 
 living in it, and whose head seems 
 scarcely steady enough to bear the 
 slightest elevation : you see even anti- 
 cipation has added a twist to the little 
 affectations which heretofore injured her 
 appearance, and has evidently chilled 
 her affection for her former friends." 
 
 "But, grandmamma, she may — she 
 may — " Ellen faltered, and I assisted 
 her by saying, " She may get an esta- 
 blishment." 
 
 " So, my dear, by putting twenty 
 pounds in the lottery she may gain 
 30,000/. Indeed I think this last chance 
 is the greatest. Two or three really mar- 
 rying men are all she can hope to meet 
 at Lady Flutter's ; and each of these 
 has, doubtless, seen a thousand marry- 
 ing misses, who in face and accomplish- 
 ments are, at least, Mary's equals, and 
 in birth and breeding her superiors." 
 n 2
 
 268 
 
 " We do hear of such matches some- 
 times." 
 
 "Yes, and we hear of private sol- 
 diers becoming general officers, and low 
 mechanics and Jew pedlars amassing 
 millions ; but we do not calculate on 
 the hosts of brave men who fall unno- 
 ticed and unknown, while " seeking the 
 bubble reputation, even in the can- 
 non's mouth." Nor do we take into 
 account the corresponding multitudes 
 who have rushed on bankruptcy and 
 crime by an eager pursuit of wealth, 
 through desperate, unwarrantable spe- 
 culations ; or the numerous victims to 
 female vanity and man's levity whom 
 erroneous hopes have conducted to dis- 
 grace or to death. I have a narrative 
 from the same pen which amused you 
 a few days ago: it wears an air of 
 truth ; it is simply told, and illustrative 
 of my opinion, that when no particular
 
 269 
 
 circumstances warrant an intrusion into 
 higher classes of society, young women 
 are safest and happiest in their own. 
 Ellen, you shall recite the tragedy. I 
 do not think that our young neighbour's 
 visit to Flusterly Hall is likely to have 
 a similar termination : her mind is cast 
 in a different mould, and she will only 
 import absurdity, not misery, from the 
 new world she is about to explore. 
 
 " The Improver. 
 
 " Why did you praise my blushing lips, 
 Yet make their scarlet pale ? 
 And why did I, young witless maid, 
 Believe the flatt'ring tale. — Mallet. 
 
 " Without subscribing to the fanciful 
 theory which Prior develop es in his 
 Alma, we must admit that there is, ge- 
 nerally speaking, a period in our exist- 
 ence which not only stamps an inde- 
 lible impression on the memory, but 
 also models the future character. While 
 n 3
 
 270 
 
 sitting in one of the Alpha cottages, in 
 my smartly furnished drawing-room, 
 looking down on the world of Padding- 
 ton, and catching a distant view of 
 Primrose Hill and the heights of Hamp- 
 stead, and then turning to the verdant 
 groves of the Regent's Park, or at- 
 tracted to the bow window of my bou- 
 doir by the Emperor Alexander, or the 
 Commander-in-chief, (in the shape of 
 geraniums,) requiring my attention ; 
 even while amused, by the lively anec- 
 dotes of a Peggy Moreen, or melted by 
 the eloquence of a Doctor Pleadwell, 
 haranguing in behalf of & fashionable 
 charity, my thoughts, like those of 
 Crabbe's Allen, are wandering 
 
 in those scenes 
 
 Of ray best days, amid the vivid greens.' 
 
 " Partial, however, as I am to the old 
 rectory, I dare not compare the stunted 
 vegetation of Bleakwood and Barren-
 
 -271 
 
 dale to that tropical luxuriance on 
 which the broken-hearted sailor rumi- 
 nated, even while soothed by the mi- 
 nistry of his faithful Judith ; but moral 
 fertility more than compensates for the 
 sterility of an hyperborean climate ; 
 and my readers must allow me, as an 
 old woman, frequently to recur to the 
 time when I was of consequence to 
 some living being besides my maid and 
 my cat, and looked at human nature as 
 attired in a variety of modes, not pre- 
 scribed by Mrs. Bell, or the four-in- 
 hand club. 
 
 "A description of people flourished at 
 Bleakwood, who, for intellectual hardi- 
 hood and public utility, might be com- 
 pared to the oaks which covered the 
 hills on the north of that comfortable 
 hamlet ; I mean the unsophisticated, 
 unpretending English yeomen. Among 
 that respectable class the family of the 
 N 4
 
 272 
 
 Saveacres were distinguished, not only 
 by greater wealth, but by better blood, 
 having frequently matched with cler- 
 gymen's daughters, besides having to 
 boast one alliance with a near relation 
 of an esquire of antient extraction. 
 They could also glory in possessing 
 the same hides of land for which their 
 ancestors were recorded in doomsday, 
 book ; and though the good fortune, 
 the industry, or the skill of some of 
 their progenitors had occasionally add- 
 ed to the estate, a larger family or a 
 smaller share of prudence had as fre- 
 quently dissipated the newly acquired 
 property ; but to have parted with an 
 acre of the old farm would have been 
 considered a species of parricide enough 
 to summon the shade of every defunct 
 possessor whose dust reposed in neatly- 
 turfed graves on the south side of the 
 chancel. A Saveacre of Bleakwood,
 
 273 
 
 walking over the ' lands which his fore- 
 fathers tilled,' assumed the port of a 
 petty king. ' Some village Hamp- 
 dens' might be enumerated among 
 them ; and others also, who, not con- 
 tent with resisting ' the little tyrants of 
 their fields,' like true whigs, played 
 the bashaw in their own families. Some 
 were distinguished by Squire Western's 
 love of rural sports ; and others, by 
 Boniface's passion for home-brewed 
 ale ; but, upon the whole, they were a 
 manly race of true-hearted Britons, who 
 never turned aside to the calves of 
 Bethel or of Dan ; but worshipped 
 * the God of their fathers,' and med- 
 dled not with those who are given to 
 change : 
 
 ' While ample stores enrich'd their fields, 
 And orchards rose around.' 
 
 Their hereditary benevolence acquired 
 celebrity, not only from the cures per- 
 
 n 5
 
 274 
 
 formed by the Saveacre eyewater, and 
 the Saveacre cordial mixture, but by 
 the donations of bread and coals be- 
 queathed by the bachelors and spin- 
 sters of the family, recorded in golden 
 letters over the belfry door ; and, dur- 
 ing my residence, I can testify, that 
 their jug of caudle and bundle of baby- 
 clothes were duly sent to lying-in wo- 
 men, and their bottle of cowslip or 
 elder wine to the sick. Their sub- 
 scriptions also to parochial charities 
 were promptly, liberally, and unostenta- 
 tiously bestowed. Their labourers were 
 distinguished by more orderly beha- 
 viour and greater comforts than others 
 of the same class ; and the whole fa- 
 mily, including their dependents, were 
 regular attendants on the ordinances 
 of the church. Beside this, they pre- 
 served the convivial and cheerful man- 
 ners of older, and in some respects, bet-
 
 V?5 
 
 ter times. Plum cakes and pasties 
 diffused gladness through the village 
 at their sheep-shearings ; and their har- 
 vest-homes retained the jovial character 
 of indiscriminate hospitality. There 
 my good Doctor and I often witnessed 
 the ceremony of drawing the old wo- 
 man's tooth ; and the enacting of 
 * Prince George, that noble Baron 
 bold/ was preserved at Mr. Saveacre's 
 long after Beelzebub and his frying- 
 pan, with all the exhilarating append- 
 ages of savoury cookery and nappy 
 stingo had been expatriated as quite 
 vulgar by their more refined, or at 
 least more fastidious neighbours. 
 
 " The person who, during my resi- 
 dence at Bleakwood, stood as chief or 
 head of this family, was a well-mean- 
 ing man, who y by a happy marriage, 
 had greatly increased his respectability 
 as well as his wealth, which seemed 
 n 6
 
 2?6 
 
 likely to centre in an only daughter. 
 Lucy Saveacre was considered as the 
 first match in the neighbourhood by 
 those who heard of her fortune, and the 
 most desirable by those who saw her 
 attractions. She combined a superior 
 share of beauty and elegance with a 
 very creditable degree of information, 
 and the most correct discipline of the 
 heart and temper. We must, therefore, 
 allow her to have been entitled to the 
 Mat she enjoyed in her own sphere, 
 and admit that she was also ' a flower 
 of that lovely tender kind,' which 
 might not disgrace the loving careful 
 hand ' that transported her 
 
 ' into some fair garden 
 
 Where the sun ever shines." 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Saveacre were fre- 
 quently congratulated on their daugh- 
 ter's probable advancement to a higher 
 station, even while the happy, uncon-
 
 . 277 
 
 scious girl was bounding over her 
 skipping-rope, or ornamenting her doll. 
 On these occasions the father used to 
 rub his hands, kiss his child, and give 
 an assenting nod ; while the mother, 
 after sending Lucy out of the room, 
 would reprove the incautious augur, 
 asserting that happiness was more likely 
 to accrue from strict attention to the 
 duties of that state of life for which 
 people were fitted by habit and educa- 
 tion. She then pointed out the ill 
 effects constantly produced on the 
 human mind by disappointed expect- 
 ation ; and to particular friends she 
 spoke more strongly of Lucy's pecu- 
 liar character, and of the danger to be 
 apprehended from extraordinary ex- 
 citements on a temper which, though 
 gentle and compliant, was susceptible 
 of deep, nay, of indelible impressions, 
 and already disposed to be romantic.
 
 278 
 
 * Were she cold and selfish/ said the 
 prudent mother, < she might, by in- 
 judicious hints, and extravagant com- 
 mendations, become vain and absurd ; 
 but, with her warm heart, and variable, 
 though buoyant spirits, she is more 
 likely to be rendered wretched.' 
 
 " Congeniality of character establish- 
 ed a greater degree of intimacy between 
 the owners of Allestree Hall and Mrs. 
 Saveacre, than even the then social 
 and affable demeanour of gentry to- 
 ward their inferiors warranted ; and 
 Lucy, still a happy child, generally 
 tripped by her mother's side when she 
 visited Lady Allestree as her almoner 
 and privy counsellor. « You are sin- 
 gularly blest in that very amiable little 
 girl,' said the benevolent dowager, 
 while the young ladies were loading 
 their favourite with flowers and sweet- 
 meats, and when Mrs. Saveacre lamented
 
 279 
 
 the impending separation which school 
 would occasion, Lady Allestree depre- 
 cated the thought of removing a girl 
 of such fair promise and strong sus- 
 ceptibility from the care of an affec- 
 tionate sensible mother to a pro- 
 miscuous assemblage of different 
 characters, where the eye of superin- 
 tendance could not be always watch- 
 ful, and where Lucy could not acquire 
 anything that she might not better 
 learn at home ; except possibly a few 
 accomplishments, attained at the 
 hazard of having her mind vitiated 
 by art and intrigue, her spirits broken 
 by cabals, or her simplicity sacrificed 
 to that system of display which is too 
 essential to the prosperity of a semi- 
 nary to be discouraged by the gover- 
 ness. < If,' continued her ladyship, 
 1 you think my daughters competent 
 to teach Lucy enough to save her from
 
 280 
 
 feeling a painful inferiority, I am sure 
 they will be delighted to have her for 
 their pupil ; and when they are too 
 much engaged to give her a lesson, 
 you will have the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that she is cultivating the most 
 essential part of education under your 
 own eye.' 
 
 " Mrs. Saveacre was all gratitude, 
 Lucy all transport, and her father, — 
 though he did wish his girl to warble 
 and declaim, dance and paint, as 
 ♦veil as the children of farmer Black- 
 berry, — agreed, that instruction from 
 the daughters of a Baronet was 
 a high honour, and that the money 
 saved might be added to her fortune. 
 Thus was this fair rose-bud preserved 
 in all its dewy bloom. She was neither 
 vain nor awkward, confident nor shy, 
 ignorant nor affected ; accustomed to 
 good society, but not alienated from
 
 281 
 
 the enjoyments or duties of home ; 
 taught to respect others, and meekly 
 to appreciate her own claims to con- 
 sideration, she seemed to be secured 
 from the dangers of the world. And 
 I must here record the reproof which 
 Lady Allestree gave to her favourite 
 son, the Colonel, as an instance of her 
 fitness for the charge she had assumed. 
 Tapping little Lucy's cheek, as it 
 blushed through the fair ringlets of her 
 hair, he talked of the murders her 
 blue eyes would commit : « And of 
 the children and the dairies she will 
 bewitch,' said his mother with a look 
 of unusual displeasure. ' When you 
 stray into the fabulous, Edward, give 
 your imagination free scope. The 
 times of men dying for love, and those 
 of nailing up horse-shoes against 
 witches, are both happily over; and 
 neither her family nor her friends
 
 need wish our dear Lucy less agreeable 
 on philanthropic considerations/ 
 
 " When Sir Dormer Allestree took 
 possession of the hall, Miss Saveacre 
 w^s in the full bloom of youth and 
 beauty ; but as it never occurred to so 
 high-bred, so high-learned a lady as his 
 wife, that a farmer's daughter could be 
 other than vulgar and ridiculous, she 
 allowed herself to be diverted with the 
 history of her conquests, till chance 
 threw in her way the young beauty, 
 whose manners instantly confirmed her 
 fitness to enter into the best society. 
 A pressing invitation to the hall was 
 the immediate consequence, and it was 
 given with a cordiality which would 
 have done honour to the fair hostess's 
 apparent dereliction of her own claims 
 to pre-eminence in beauty, had not sel- 
 fishness and vanity been the real sources 
 of this importunity. The manor-house
 
 283 
 
 must be the grand emporium of all the 
 lions in the neighbourhood ; and if the 
 beaux grew tired of looking at the 
 belles of fashion, she would show them 
 that vara avis, a well-informed, well- 
 bred, unaffected rural charmer. 
 
 " But Lucy, engrossed by solemn 
 duties, was fixed to the sick-bed of her 
 dying mother, and could only decline 
 with respectful regret an invitation 
 which, in happier circumstances, she 
 would have rejoiced to accept. I have 
 often surmised that Mrs. Saveacre's 
 interment might have suggested the 
 beautiful description of the good wife's 
 funeral, which Mr. Crabbe has given 
 us in the Parish Register. There was 
 the same respectful, solemn, and sub- 
 dued sorrow ; but the heroine of this 
 essay evinced less firmness than the 
 eldest daughter in that exquisite pic- 
 ture. Under the guidance of her
 
 284 
 
 excellent mother, her life had been 
 innocent and happy. A presentiment 
 of coming evil often seizes the imagi- 
 nation, especially when the spirits are 
 weakened by affliction, and we after- 
 wards revert to this augury as pro- 
 phetical. 
 
 " Miss Saveacre's grief injured her 
 health. Lady Pastorina was intended 
 by nature to be affectionate and hu- 
 mane, and though the love of eclat 
 generally determined her actions, a 
 better spirit sometimes predominated. 
 She visited the young mourner, advised 
 change of place and society, and 
 finally succeeded in removing her to 
 the Hall, where at first she was per- 
 mitted to indulge her grief in seclu- 
 sion, and was gradually induced to join 
 the society there assembled. Mr. Save- 
 acre's attachment to his daughter made 
 him occasionally accept the Baronet's
 
 285 
 
 frequent invitations ; but as he did not 
 understand the political discussions of 
 the gentry, and had not always suffi- 
 cient command of feature to refrain 
 from laughing at their theoretical agri- 
 culture, he felt himself out of his 
 sphere, and acquired a habit of sliding 
 away to a snug cup of tea in the gover- 
 ness's room, where Miss Flunkey had 
 covered her sandy locks with a turban 
 decorated with lilach and laburnums. 
 The flowers first attracted his atten- 
 tion, because they were the fa- 
 vourite shrubs of his wife, and were 
 very natural ; but as there was not the 
 slightest resemblance between the la- 
 dies, I cannot account for the subse- 
 quent transfer of his attention from the 
 turban to the wearer. This transfer 
 happened, however, most opportunely 
 for Lady Pastorina, who, having an 
 unusually large stock of undisposable
 
 286 
 
 protegees on her hands at that time, 
 was extremely glad to establish her in- 
 estimable Flunkey at Saveacre Lodge, 
 being sure she would make the good 
 farmer just the wife he wanted, and 
 suffer her sweet Lucy to spend more 
 time at the Hall. 
 
 " The fair, or (to use a term more 
 appropriate) the radiant bride, found 
 herself transplanted from the spare 
 regimen, fatigue, and restraint of the 
 school-room, to plenty, quiet, ease, and 
 liberty ; and her imagination became 
 so bewildered by the bulky stores which 
 surrounded her, that it transmuted 
 them into gold ; and determining not 
 only that such wealth must be inex- 
 haustible, but that her very honest, 
 very well-meaning husband's fault was 
 parsimony, she conceived it to be her 
 first duty to circulate his cash as briskly 
 as possible. During the protracted
 
 287 
 
 honey-moon of uxorious dotage, Save- 
 acre Lodge appeared to be a vice-regal 
 appendage on Allestree Hall, and the 
 delighted farmer not only dined every 
 day like the Lord of the Manor, but 
 saw his wife dressed like a baronet's 
 lady. A numerous second family, 
 however, soon abridged this purple 
 and yellow splendor. Mr. Saveacre 
 grew old and morose : unpaid bills 
 proved by their accumulation, that an 
 unwelcome stranger was treading on 
 his heels, whose acquaintance he could 
 not shun. Convinced of his folly when 
 too late, he sighed over the blasted 
 prospects of his darling daughter, and 
 anxiously wished to bar his gates against 
 the intruder Poverty. 
 
 " During the progressive overthrow 
 of Saveacre's happiness, the want of 
 comforts at home made Lucy a frequent 
 guest at the Hall, where, instead of
 
 288 
 
 her father's sullen melancholy, her 
 mother-in-law's querulous volubility, 
 and the cries and quarrels of the hu- 
 moured nurslings, she found wit and 
 information to amuse, and admiration 
 to bewilder her inexperienced mind, 
 and at length met with treachery to 
 inthral her susceptible heart in the 
 person of a man of very high fashion, 
 ' the heir of an earldom and of an afflu- 
 ent fortune.' Nature is a thrifty goddess; 
 and a being endowed with qualifica- 
 tions like his, has no need of the grace 
 of a Paris or the dignity of an Apollo. 
 Had Lord Rubicon been born a village 
 swain, it is possible that the contour of 
 his Grecian head and Roman profile, 
 now so much admired, would not have 
 eclipsed the lustre of a rural beau's 
 scarlet waistcoat, decorated with a 
 Sunday nosegay of pinks and sweet 
 marjoram. It is at least indisputable,
 
 289 
 
 that poor Lucy would never have dis- 
 covered him to have been the first of 
 mankind, had she not been told so, 
 and had he not only breathed in her 
 ear the whisper of adulation, but that 
 which she mistook for the sigh of love. 
 
 " Lady Pastorina soon discovered, in 
 what she deemed a very amusing flirta- 
 tion, occasion to detain her restless 
 guest, the only one of his rank then at 
 Allestree, and to keep him in good 
 humour amid the dolours of a prema- 
 ture fall of snow, and the prospect of 
 a bad hunting season. No harm (that 
 is to say, no imputation on herself for 
 bad management) could ensue, for 
 Rubicon was not a man likely to com- 
 mit a preposterous marriage, while the 
 girl was secure in virtuous principles ; 
 and, admitting that her affections be- 
 came ensnared, absence and time would 
 efface the impression. She would call 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 
 
 her good sense to her aid, lovers would 
 flock around her, and the attorney or 
 the surgeon would be most happy to 
 carry off the long contested prize, who, 
 in the duties of a wife and mother 
 (for Lucy was a very good girl), 
 would soon surmount the depression of 
 defeated hope, even if she were so 
 ridiculous as to suppose the heir of 
 the Earl of Longdale could mean any 
 thing serious. 
 
 " The noble Lord may certainly be 
 acquitted of any hymeneal intention : 
 early educated on the principle of 
 Otway's Acasto, *, Let marriage be the 
 last rash thing you do ;? and impatient 
 of the paternal curb on his expences, 
 which a rather too limited allowance 
 imposed, he had turned his thoughts 
 to the expediency of swallowing the 
 bitter pill, by way of improving his 
 condition ; and he qualified himself to
 
 291 
 
 become land-agent or stock-broker to 
 all the unmarried heiresses in the king- 
 dom, whose real and funded property, 
 improveable leasehold or copyhold, en- 
 tailed or disposable, free or encum- 
 bered, was registered in indelible cha- 
 racters on his memory, together with a 
 few addenda respecting the age, tem- 
 per, and character of the person by 
 whose means the said lands or funds 
 might be annexed to the dignity of 
 Rubicon. Avarice and vanity are en- 
 grossing passions, and probably they 
 left no space in this nobleman's bosom 
 for another, which, at any age under 
 thirty, is generally paramout. But if he 
 dared to view the flower of Bleakwood 
 as likely to bear transplanting to the 
 bower of illicit love, there was a chaste 
 lustre in Lucy's eye, a maiden blush 
 upon her cheek, a simple dignity in her 
 movement, a saintly purity in her ex- 
 o 2
 
 292 
 
 pression, which told him that the scheme 
 would not succeed, even if her treacher- 
 ous heart were to favour his designs, 
 which thus became gloriously limited to 
 the desire of amusing himself at the 
 expence of her peace. 
 
 " Since the termination of the affair, 
 his Lordship has sworn upon his honour, 
 that, so far from making any promises 
 to Lucy, he never named the words 
 love or marriage ; and, probably for 
 more than Touchstone's reason, he 
 has not been foresworn. To keep his 
 eyes rivetted on her face, to admire 
 all she said or did, to choose her for 
 his partner at a quadrille, or his com- 
 panion at piquet, is not making love ; 
 nor is it an offer of marriage to say, 
 that she would reflect honour on any 
 station, or to commend Lord X. Y. 
 and Sir Q. P. for selecting women of 
 humble birth for their wives (yes, Lord
 
 293 
 
 Rubicon could reprobate, without 
 blushing, the reflex of his own cha- 
 racter,) in preference to the dissipated 
 mercenary girl of fashion, pushed for- 
 ward by her mother. There was no 
 vow of attachment in a sigh, or tender 
 squeeze of the hand \ there was no re- 
 nunciation of paternal authority, when 
 Lady Pastorina rallied her young pro- 
 tegee on the conquest she had certainly 
 made of old Doctor Shearem, the rich 
 Rector of Nettlefield, by Rubicon's cast- 
 ing a look of supplicatory devotion, 
 and wishing he was at liberty to state 
 his objections to such a preposterous 
 lover. His lordship is acquitted of any 
 serious design, and the poor girl's in- 
 experience must be condemned, while 
 day after day she waited in trembling 
 hope of hearing words spoken that were 
 never designed to be uttered, but which 
 the full confidence of prepossessing 
 o 3
 
 294 
 
 attachment held to be so inevitable, 
 that she had ruminated on the allow- 
 ance she could make to her father out 
 of the savings of her pin-money, when 
 she should be Lady Rubicon ; and even 
 assorted imaginary presents for her 
 mother-in-law, to show that she did not 
 resent her unkind behaviour. 
 
 " Among the visitants of Allestre was 
 Mrs. Blandy, a lineal descendant of 
 Lady Bluemantle, whose ravages in 
 the field of reputation have been re- 
 corded by the never-dying pen of Isaac 
 BickerstafF. Mrs. Blandy inherited the 
 same avidity to acquire, and industry 
 to disperse anecdote. She was secre- 
 tary to three Bas Bleus coteries, and 
 maintained a regular correspondence 
 with the most popular book-makers. 
 Her visit to the country proceeded 
 from her thirst for information. The 
 reading world had shewn symptoms of
 
 295 
 
 satiety at the mannerism then prevail- 
 ing in the belles le tires department, 
 where gentlemen without heads, and 
 ladies without hearts, of every rank, 
 from a duke to a simple esquire, had 
 flirted, fainted, danced, laughed, and 
 talked, at London, Bath, Brighton, 
 and elsewhere, till every body yawned 
 and declared it to be so like real life, 
 that they could bear it no longer. 
 Mrs. Blandy hoped that by spending 
 an Autumn in the country, she might 
 pick up something new among the 
 natives, to give a zest to morning 
 studies and evening conversaziones. 
 Her qualifications for this undertak- 
 ing were indisputable, for with great 
 command of language, and powers of 
 amplification, her observations even 
 went beyond her natural organs, ex- 
 tending to what was not to be seen, and 
 never was nor could be uttered. Her 
 o 4
 
 296 
 
 imagination also was so finely blended 
 with her memory, that it was doubtful 
 whether, while reciting her narratives, 
 she herself knew the diverging points 
 of truth and falsehood, or could dis- 
 tinguish the gate of ivory from the gate 
 of horn. 
 
 " Let us now suppose Mrs.Blandy re- 
 turned from a morning tour among the 
 village gossips, seated in her dressing- 
 room, where a projecting bow- window 
 gave her a command, not only of the 
 lawn and pleasure grounds, but also 
 of the library, the usual scene of morn- 
 ing tete-d-tetes, and a light closet af- 
 forded a back view of the offices and 
 poultry yard ; a quire of gilt paper on 
 the writing table, and a silver inkstand 
 completely furnished. Conceive one 
 sheet commenced with " Dearest Lady 
 Seraphina," intended for the high-life 
 narrative, and another indited by Kitty
 
 297 
 
 Pry, in case an incident should occur 
 in the kitchen. Suppose repeated but 
 vain attempts to snuff an intrigue be- 
 tween Sir Dormer and the dairy maid, 
 or to see Lady Pastorina apparently 
 engaged by a favourite author, while 
 a dandy, systematically braced and 
 stuffed, lounges over her chair, alter- 
 nately staring in her face, and adjust- 
 ing his own mustachios. Still there 
 would be nothing in all this but a re- 
 print of worn-out characters ; and she 
 did not rusticate for the purpose of 
 committing plagiarism. When she was 
 almost in despair of taking any original 
 or interesting portraits, she saw r Lord 
 Rubicon give Lucy Saveacre a paper, 
 which she confusedly shuffled into her 
 work-bag. Many hours did not pass 
 before this repository was explored, and 
 the following song, a confessed tribute 
 of his Lordship's muse, was copied into 
 o 5
 
 298 
 
 the common-place book of the lady in- 
 quisitor : 
 
 " Stormy and cold is the loud wintry blast, 
 
 And my love is far away ; 
 But he will return, when winter is past, 
 
 And tell me the cause of his stay. 
 
 And whether he's clad in a silken vest, 
 
 Or in homely russet gear, 
 My heart will be fain to fly out of my breast, 
 
 When his welcome voice I hear ; 
 
 For far has he wander'd since last we met, 
 
 And I too have much to say; 
 But at sight of my love I shall all forget, 
 
 And turn my face away. 
 
 And then will he say, " Have I left thee long, 
 
 Unwelcom'd to depart ? " 
 But the love that dies on a maiden's tongue 
 
 Will throb within her heart. 
 
 " From that hour every glance of the 
 noble Lord's eyes and every blush on 
 Lucy's cheek were watched and re- 
 corded by Mrs. Blandy, till her enthu- 
 siasm as a biographer so far predo- 
 minated over her knowledge of the 
 world, that she persuaded herself of the
 
 299 
 
 probability of a denouement which 
 must make her novel go off, by sup- 
 plying a few friends with a key to the 
 chief characters, and allowing them to 
 hint that it was not only founded on 
 fact, but was the actual history of Lord 
 and Lady Rubicon. 
 
 "At last the frost broke up ; the morn- 
 ing tete-d-tetes terminated : evening 
 amusements proved less favourable to 
 the tender passion ; my Lord, though 
 still attentive and gallant, spoke not the 
 word Lucy sighed to hear. Somebody, 
 she thought, always interrupted him ; 
 yet if he really loved, if he meant ho- 
 nourably, he might find opportunities. 
 Her pale cheek denoted sleepless 
 nights ; her blue eyes often shed a 
 humid lustre through the tears she 
 strove in vain to dissipate. Mrs. Blandy 
 thought that the crisis must be at hand, 
 and became every hour more assiduous 
 o t>
 
 300 
 
 to gain Lucy's confidence. The crisis 
 did soon occur ; it was no other than 
 Lord Rubicon's sudden departure from 
 Allestree. The resolution was secretly 
 formed, and precipitately executed. 
 The ostensible motive was a circular 
 from his party to assist in the tug of 
 parliamentary warfare ; the real one, 
 an assurance from a confidential friend, 
 that Miss Moreland had rejected the 
 addresses of the Marquis of Tilbury, and 
 was now without any dangler. Possibly 
 also he was weary of the perpetual in- 
 trusion of Mrs. Blandy's sharp profile, 
 and thought that her peeping eyes 
 would be better fixed on great and 
 little casino than glanced askew at what 
 was passing at the work-table, where 
 neither Lucy wanted remarks on her 
 embroidery, nor he an observer of his 
 badinage while he threaded her needles. 
 At the ceremonious leave-takings of
 
 801 
 
 old times, there was at least an appear- 
 ance of reciprocal obligation in the 
 farewells uttered by the grateful guest 
 and the liberal host, both of whom, after 
 being some time domesticated, gene- 
 rally parted with an avowed desire to 
 meet again. Lord Rubicon said no- 
 thing about returning to London till he 
 ordered his horses at night, after the 
 ladies had retired. The omitted tea- 
 cup at breakfast, and a remark on the 
 probable time of his getting to town, 
 first announced to Lucy that he was 
 gone ; gone, without any intimation of 
 his intentions ; without even the hu- 
 manity of an adieu ! Had she miscon- 
 strued his assiduities ? Evidently not ; 
 for the eyes of every one were fixed 
 upon her. Maiden delicacy imposed 
 the necessity of self-command. She 
 stooped to caress Ponto ; she rose to 
 feed the pea- fowl ; she even swallowed
 
 302 
 
 her coffee, and attempted to read a 
 bon mot in the newspaper ; but break- 
 fast never seemed so tedious ; and when 
 it ended, her retreat to her own apart- 
 ment was instantaneous. Here we 
 would leave her, and respect the an- 
 guish of an anxious heart, indignant at 
 its thraldom ; but Mrs. Blandy was 
 otherwise disposed. With much af- 
 fected good will and real curiosity, she 
 was soon at Lucy's door, to inquire 
 after her health ; and not receiving an 
 immediate answer, she intruded into 
 her chamber. The plea of indisposi- 
 tion could not account for eyes swollen 
 with tears. The confidence long im- 
 portunately solicited, was gained, or 
 rather wrested, and Mrs. Blandy ac- 
 quired a capital scene for her novel. 
 
 " c But, my lovely girl/ said she, 
 « consider me as your mother.' Here 
 Lucy's tears flowed fast. * I can have
 
 303 
 
 no interest in wishing to know the 
 whole of this unhappy business beyond 
 a desire to guide your inexperience. I 
 long to account for this caprice. Did 
 you in any way offend him ? I don't 
 mean by levity ; but by increased coy- 
 ness ; by resenting any lover-like free- 
 doms ?' The humbled girl felt still 
 more degraded by this inquiry, though 
 the flush of modesty gave dignity to 
 her reply. * Our situation, madam, 
 warranted no freedoms. I have already 
 said that he never declared himself my 
 lover. I have nothing more to disclose. 
 My own vanity was the source of my 
 delusion. The privacy of my father's 
 house, to which I will immediately re- 
 turn, will, I hope, conceal my mortifi- 
 cation ; and its employments may help 
 me to forget my folly. Would to hea- 
 ven all who have witnessed it would do 
 the same !'
 
 304 
 
 " Lucy's secession was not opposed. 
 She could no longer add to the attrac- 
 tions of the Hall ; the hunting season 
 was over, as well as country flirtations > 
 the beaux had dispersed, and Lady Pas- 
 torina, engrossed by her studies and 
 her charities, had no time to devote to 
 a broken-hearted girl. But Saveacre 
 Lodge was changed as well as the pros- 
 spects of its once-admired heiress. An 
 ill-matched assortment of shabbiness 
 and faded finery ; anxious, but futile 
 efforts to economize ; the fatigue and 
 bustle, without the cheerfulnesss of 
 labour, told Lucy that other sorrows 
 besides those of love awaited her, 
 without diminishing the tortures of the 
 shaft that rankled in her bosom. She 
 sickened at the sight of her father's 
 turned coat and pieced shoes, and re- 
 collected the day-dreams of filial libe- 
 rality. To stay the falling fortunes of
 
 305 
 
 her family she relinquished the niceties 
 of attire and the comforts of leisure, 
 and alternately assisted as cook, dairy- 
 maid, or nurse ; striving through the 
 busy day to banish thought. But the 
 long lonely night would succeed, and 
 sleep was a fugitive, like Lord Rubicon. 
 Her slender strength was soon dissi- 
 pated by fatigue and sorrow, and her 
 cheek grew more pale, except when 
 fevered by a hectic flush. Her father 
 was too much depressed by his own 
 perplexities to observe the change, and 
 she rejoiced that his age was respited 
 from feeling that pang. One indulg- 
 ence, and only one, she allowed her- 
 self; it was to take her infant sister in 
 her arms, and hush her to sleep in the 
 church-yard. The spot she preferred 
 was her mother's grave ; for she could 
 there ruminate on past happiness, and 
 apostrophize the tenant of the tomb :
 
 306 
 
 * Dearest and best of mothers and of 
 friends/ she would say, " I never 
 loved or lamented thee aright. Why 
 sacrifice my peace to vanity ? Why not 
 treasure thy counsels in my soul ? Why 
 suffer ambition to mislead me ? Why, 
 by a stubborn indulgence of useless 
 grief, did I neglect to make my father's 
 house comfortable to him, and drive 
 him to seek another companion instead 
 of thy daughter ? ' Tis my own fault. 
 I have deserved all the misery I feel. 
 I have ruined my own peace, and my 
 father's fortunes. Dearest mother, 
 would that I were fit to repose beside 
 thee!' 
 
 " But I must not forget Mrs. Blandy, 
 though I suspect that my readers would 
 rather remain with Lucy. She re- 
 turned to town with a rich common- 
 place book. The Bas Bleus met ; in- 
 cidents were contrived ; fresh charac-
 
 307 
 
 ters were worked in, and the whole 
 thing was got up in style. The manu- 
 script was consigned to one of the first 
 houses in the trade, who declared that 
 it was sure to take, as the marriage of 
 Lord Rubicon to Miss Moreland en- 
 sured its celebrity. The very benevo- 
 lent Lady President of the coterie 
 then suggested, that it would be a most 
 kind act to bring the broken farmer's 
 poor daughter to London, and establish 
 her in a small haberdasher's shop in the 
 vicinity of the squares, and that it 
 would be a most delightful lounge, after 
 reading the book, to drive to look at the 
 pretty heroine, and buy her netting silk, 
 by which means she might soon amass 
 a fortune, and be happier than ever. 
 
 " A subscription for this purpose was 
 set on foot, and Mrs. Blandy hurried 
 down to Bleakwood ; but the intended 
 protegee was no longer susceptible of
 
 308 
 
 patronage, or sensible of neglect. A 
 typhus fever, which devastated the 
 village, found in her an unresisting 
 victim. Grief had inflicted such in- 
 curable wounds, that there was little 
 left for disease to accomplish. I wit- 
 nessed her last moments. Shame at 
 having bestowed her heart where it 
 had never been ingenuously solicited, 
 imposed such a rigid silence upon her, 
 that the name of Rubicon never 
 escaped her lips, no, not even when she 
 fainted at the intelligence of his mar- 
 riage. But in her sickness reason 
 deserted its throne, and her babbling 
 tongue dwelt on the too well-known 
 secret. Her night-clothes seemed 
 bridal attire to her disordered imagin- 
 ation. Rubicon was faithful; every 
 sound prognosticated his arrival ; he 
 was so near that she could not sleep, 
 or take refreshment till he came ; and
 
 309 
 
 when her weeping friends held her 
 frenzied arms, she complained that they 
 detained her from him. The last 
 effort of yielding nature was to repeat 
 the song he had written. A gleam of 
 sense shot across her mind while 
 chaunting a confession of love, unal- 
 terable and refined as her own. Maiden 
 delicacy chilled her frame, even while 
 sustaining the last convulsive struggle, 
 and faintly whispering * I have talked 
 too much/ she sunk upon her father's 
 shoulder, and expired. — She was 
 buried in her mother's grave." * 
 
 * The above narrative has received a limited circu- 
 lation in a periodical work.
 
 310 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 Mr. James's social duties interfered 
 with his pastoral care on the next Sun- 
 day, and the pulpit at Ringrove was 
 filled by a young divine who had just 
 received orders, and was on a visit to 
 a neighbouring clergyman. The ser- 
 mon was in a different style from that 
 to which the parish was accustomed ; 
 and the vehement oratory and corre- 
 spondent gestures riveted the eyes and 
 fixed the attention of the congregation. 
 The gentleman was evidently a candi- 
 date for popularity, and as the word 
 " establishment" still haunted my 
 brain, I could not help recollecting the 
 inquiry of Patience Gentle, in the 
 Spectator : " Ah ! did you design to win
 
 311 
 
 me to heaven or yourself?" I cer- 
 tainly thought the discourse a very 
 fine one ; it reminded me of some which 
 I had seen draw down rivers of tears. 
 
 Mrs. Strictly stood up during the 
 delivery, leant over the pew, and some- 
 times nodded approbation. Her daugh- 
 ters were busy with their pencils taking 
 notes ; but turning my eyes to my 
 grandmother, I perceived disapproba- 
 tion in her countenance. She walked 
 home in silence, and in her conference 
 with her household, refrained from 
 taking any notice of the sermon, which 
 I found was her practice when she 
 could not commend. 
 
 We had an unexpected pleasure in 
 the arrival of Mrs. Goodenough to tea, 
 especially on perceiving in her counte- 
 nance a relaxation of the maternal anx- 
 iety that preyed upon her spirits. She 
 told us that her son and she had been
 
 in London on some important busi- 
 ness. " Preparatory to his voyage ?" 
 said my grandmother. A glow of 
 pleasure lighted up her friend's face as 
 she answered, " It might be for a still 
 better purpose." " Is he not to go 
 then?" inquired Ellen eagerly. ." The 
 event," answered the mother calmly, 
 " is in the hand of Heaven ; maternal 
 affection will not allow me to dwell on 
 the result, lest I should so far weaken 
 my mind as to want fortitude to sub- 
 mit." Ellen put her handkerchief to 
 her face, and my grandmother and her 
 friend exchanged significant glances. 
 I knew that Ellen had a bad cold, and 
 wondering at their grave silence, I asked 
 if she had increased it in church ; she 
 pressed my hand, and begged me not to 
 notice her. 
 
 A conversation was immediately 
 commenced by the senior ladies, of
 
 313 
 
 which the discourse we had heard in 
 the morning was the leading topic. 
 " I reprobate," said my grandmother, 
 " every practice which tends to change 
 the humble scholar into the dogma- 
 tizing critic ; but, indeed, when the 
 very words of the bible are unstat- 
 ed in the pulpit, the tenets of the 
 church contradicted, and the prayers 
 we have just uttered turned into 
 mockery by denying the hopes that 
 they inspire, and evading the precepts 
 that they enjoin, it becomes the duty 
 of attentive- hearers to repel the errone- 
 ous inferences which haste, zeal for 
 some distinguishing tenets, and very 
 warm feelings have caused our spiritual 
 guide to leave unremoved. I hope 
 and believe that there is no worse mo- 
 tive than a spice of vanity, that beset- 
 ting sin which cleaves to us all, for the 
 meagre and sometimes pernicious food 
 vol. i. p
 
 314 
 
 which is dealt out to us under the title 
 of u sincere milk of the word." 
 
 " It was my lot," she continued, 
 < ( to have my early principles fixed and 
 enlightened by an amiable dignitary of 
 the Irish church, whose ' flesh now 
 rests in hope, but being dead, yet 
 speaketh.' He was a firm believer in, 
 and a defender of the vital peculiarizing 
 doctrines of Christianity ; yet I have 
 heard him lament the triumphs which 
 infidelity acquired by having some 
 tenets pressed to an extreme, or treated 
 unskilfully. He particularly alluded 
 to the fall of Adam, and the consequent 
 corruption of the human race, and 
 he recommended to me Archbishop 
 Seeker's Lectures on the Church Cate- 
 chism, as a safe guide between the 
 perilous extremes of implicit trust in 
 our own righteousness, and passive reli- 
 ance on the merits of our Redeemer."
 
 315 
 
 My grandmother gave a tear to the 
 memory of her departed friend, and 
 proceeded : 
 
 " The impassioned eloquence of a 
 fervid mind, warmed by contemplating 
 the indescribable distance between the 
 ineffable purity and dignity of God, 
 and even the virtues of fallen man, far 
 more of his frailties and crimes, is no 
 less likely to mislead our understand- 
 ings as to the actual state of human 
 nature, than the cold, dry arguments 
 drawn from false views of its perfections, 
 dignities, and claims are calculated 
 to close our eyes to the merits of our 
 Redeemer, and the necessity of his 
 atonement I did not think it right to 
 draw the attention of my servants to 
 discrepancies between the preacher and 
 the liturgy, which I trust escaped their 
 less acute observation ; but to you, my 
 children, I deem it my duty to lament, 
 p 2
 
 316 
 
 — and happily in this instance I can do 
 so without abating your confidence in 
 our own spiritual pastor, — that some of 
 the younger part of our clergy seek 
 notoriety in the way which I own 
 youth is too apt to prefer ; I mean in 
 innovating doctrines, in saying some- 
 thing new and strange, as if religion, 
 like natural philosophy and mechanics, 
 admitted of discoveries, or as if their 
 fingers were able to unthread knots 
 which the fathers of our church, finding 
 insolvable, recommended to the repose 
 of reverent forbearance, advising us to 
 dwell on the promises, instead of the 
 absolute decrees of God. The gentle- 
 man who this day favoured us with his 
 opinions did not, indeed, go into the 
 horrifying subject of universal repro- 
 bation ; but he trenched on its contigu- 
 ous doctrines, affirming that it is totally 
 impossible for us to abstain from break-
 
 317 
 
 ing all the commandments of God, the 
 thoughts of our hearts being evil con- 
 tinually ; thus removing every curb on 
 passion, and quenching with the hope, 
 the desire of fighting against evil in- 
 clinations. If I am continually re- 
 minded that I have received from my 
 Creator a nature so prone to offend 
 that I must hourly break the laws he 
 commands me to obey, and that eternal 
 death is the punishment of this failure ; 
 can I be grateful to him for life, at 
 least for the revelation in which these 
 humiliating truths are enforced, or de- 
 sire to know what is obedience ? Should 
 this doctrine of corruption ever be en- 
 larged upon, without at the same time 
 opening the healing waters which will 
 wash away the stain ; I mean the sup- 
 port which faith and humility may re- 
 ceive through the medium of the Holy 
 Sprit, sought by devout prayer to 
 p 3
 
 318 
 
 counterpoise this propensity to sin ? In 
 the world before the Flood, though the 
 earth was then labouring under the 
 curse of barrenness, and man in his 
 most depraved state, ' Enoch walked 
 with God,' and was « translated to 
 Heaven.' Under the law ' Elijah, a 
 man of like passions with ourselves/ 
 had power to open and shut the foun- 
 tains of rain, and was also removed to 
 regions of bliss, without passing through 
 the gates of death. Many are recorded 
 in the Old Testament to whom the 
 epithets of « good, perfect, and up- 
 right men, doing that which is right in 
 the sight of the Lord,' are awarded, 
 and in the New Testament we read of 
 Zachariah and Elizabeth, who ' walked 
 in all the commandments of the Lord 
 blameless.' He who was the word of 
 truth proclaimed, that he had found in 
 Nathanael, • an Israelite indeed, in whom
 
 319 
 
 was no guile.' An inspired apostle enu- 
 merated numbers who ' obtained a 
 good report through faith,' and we 
 claim the same rules of interpretation 
 for these commendatory authorities 
 which others claim for condemnatory 
 expressions. Our catechism asserts 
 that, though • we are not able of our- 
 selves to keep the commandments of 
 God, and to serve him,' he has pro- 
 vided the abundant help of < his 
 special grace,' and that prayer is the 
 medium by which it is conveyed. This 
 doctrine preserves us from self-con- 
 fiding righteousness, and from despair 
 of ever performing what, on penalty of 
 losing our salvation, we are required to 
 do ; and I sincerely wish that our pub- 
 lic instructors would keep this clear 
 consoling view of religion ever in their 
 eye." 
 
 My grandmother paused, and asked 
 p 4
 
 320 
 
 if she had weaned us ? We entreated 
 her to proceed. „ 
 
 " I must also enter my strong pro- 
 test against any change of the positive 
 words of Scripture for the sake of effect, 
 or for any other purpose. Mr. Strain, 
 when expounding his text, ■ the Son of 
 Man came to seek and to save that 
 which was lost,' interpolated the word 
 only. It is not in the Gospel ; it con- 
 tradicts much of its import; it is in 
 opposition to that best interpreter of 
 the New Testament, our Liturgy, in 
 which the collect for the second Sun- 
 day after Easter and other passages ex- 
 pressly state, that the Redeemer of 
 Mankind also * came to be an ensample 
 of godly life.' Some of our divines 
 believe, that the infinite efficacy of the 
 mediatorial sacrifice may extend to yet 
 uncreated worlds. Scripture intimates, 
 that it was efficacious to that out of
 
 321 
 
 whose ruins the globe which we inhabit 
 was formed. Such limitation of the 
 effects of the incarnation does not in- 
 dicate that ardent affection for the 
 Saviour which gentlemen who have 
 the same leaning with Mr. Strain, try 
 to inculcate. It is haste, negligence, 
 or a desire of producing effect by say- 
 ing something new and astounding 
 which makes them, in their zeal for the 
 salvation of sinners, forget that the 
 victory wrought by Christ points at 
 the final destruction of sin, by intro- 
 ducing universal righteousness. Allow 
 me to lament one more departure from 
 gospel truth, and from the tenets of 
 that church of which by ordination he 
 is a sworn expounder, and I have done. 
 He told us that after conversion, (I 
 know not what precise meaning he 
 affixed to that term, it was not baptism, 
 or the light vouchsafed to infidels or 
 • p 5
 
 heathens,) that after conversion, I say, 
 such a renewal of the whole man took 
 place as to cause not only an entire 
 change of principles, views, motives, 
 and desires, but also a mastery over 
 our inclinations and natural infirmities, 
 so complete, that we no more offended. 
 I object alike to the doctrine of the 
 impeccable saint, and to that of the 
 universal sinner, and I affirm that they 
 are equally disproved by experience, 
 and by the word of God, if that word 
 be studied, not by disjointed texts, 
 but as an entire rule of conduct." 
 
 Mrs. Goodenough here took part in 
 the conversation, and complained also 
 of the effervescence of imagination 
 which sometimes led aspirants after 
 oratorical fame to present distorted, 
 or falsely coloured scriptural facts 
 and portraits to their auditory, in a 
 manner calculated both to amaze and
 
 323 
 
 to mislead their hearers. Scripture 
 biography always wears so sure a stamp 
 of truth, that it reveals the failings as 
 well as the excellencies of its subject ; 
 but it is brief, and allowing no space 
 for explanations is therefore difficult to 
 unravel. We should remember, how- 
 ever, that a moral inference cannot be 
 instructive, unless fairly deducible from 
 the event. The humble student well 
 knows that these characters are re- 
 corded for his instruction ; that the New 
 Testament acts as a comment upon 
 the Old ; and by patiently combining 
 all the scattered features, he tries to 
 correct his moral portrait. " I am 
 disgusted," said she, " at seeing ' the 
 grey fathers of the world ' tricked 
 out in a drapery of embroidered senti- 
 ment, when I expect to behold their 
 failings and virtues, their trials and 
 punishments, related with true patri- 
 p 6
 
 324 
 
 archal simplicity. And not only is the 
 verbal similitude gone, but the actions 
 are so modernized, (if I may use the 
 expression,) that I scarce know whether 
 I am listening to a discourse from the 
 pulpit, or to some lecturer on the 
 Belles Lettres, imitating Gesner's 
 Death of Abel. Surely it is the duty 
 of all who aim at instructing or re- 
 proving us through the medium of a 
 scripture narrative, to see that the ex- 
 ample tells ; to study the text before 
 they pen the comment, to read what- 
 ever bears upon the subject in Holy 
 Writ before they excite us to imitation, 
 or urge us to avoidance. I remember 
 a sermon on the character of Jacob, 
 which I might call a series of fables ; 
 it began with commending him for 
 integrity and sincerity, and in this 
 respect held him up as the spiritual, as 
 well as the natural father of Nathanael
 
 3 C 25 
 
 and all true Israelites ; an assertion 
 which the twenty-seventh chapter of 
 Genesis positively refutes. It dwelt 
 with puling pathos upon his being ex- 
 patriated from his father's house in 
 early youth, though scripture chro- 
 nology informs us that he was then 
 near eighty years of age, and had even 
 in that period of longevity, passed over 
 more than half the time of man's life. 
 He was said to have entered the house 
 of Laban conscientious and sincere, 
 as well as pious ; to have there 
 learned the arts of deceit, and to have 
 imbibed an inclination for idolatry, in 
 tolerating his beloved Rachel's con- 
 cealment of her father's images, and 
 even in partaking of her veneration for 
 them. This charge is utterly un- 
 founded, and entirely at variance with 
 his whole character, which was so dis- 
 tinguished by ardent devotion to the
 
 326 
 
 true God, and desire of his favour, as to 
 fall into the temptation of taking un- 
 warrantable means to procure his bles- 
 sing. I was too indignant at these per- 
 versions of scripture to attend to the 
 deduced application, but I heard the 
 sermon called very ingenious and im- 
 pressive." 
 
 " And thus," said my grandmother, 
 " was the example of this patriarch 
 lost upon us, and God's dealings with 
 him left unvindicated in inexplicable 
 mystery, or subjected to the imputation 
 of severity. The historical parts of 
 scripture require the strictest adherence 
 to truth ; and the identity of each 
 portrait should be most faithfully traced 
 without omission, palliation, exagger- 
 ation, or fanciful interpolation, because 
 they are indeed an accurate map of 
 God's providence. And in looking 
 over these portions of scripture, I think
 
 327 
 
 we may discover that the Searcher of 
 hearts, who alone can appreciate the 
 real extent of penitence, and weigh the 
 actual degree of guilt, is often said to 
 reprobate some offenders whose crimes 
 to us seem comparatively less, and to 
 continue his favour to what we should 
 call greater sinners ; yet still he leaves 
 even those whom he has pardoned to 
 take what, with reference to his general 
 laws of providence, we may call the 
 natural consequences of their crimes. 
 
 " The history of Jacob and Esau, when 
 correctly told, is one of the strongest 
 warnings against yielding to the tempt- 
 ation of expediency, that ever was re- 
 corded. Those are unskilful architects 
 of the Church of God, mere daubers 
 with un tempered mortar, who lacker 
 over the guilt of Jacob and Rebecca ; 
 for they unquestionably used criminal 
 fraud to obtain that desired distinction
 
 328 
 
 which God had determined should be 
 withheld from the profane Esau, who 
 sold the privilege of birth-right, involv- 
 ing his claim to be the hereditary priest 
 of his family, for the gratification of 
 transient appetite, and was therefore 
 held unworthy of the peculiar blessing 
 of Abraham, though he did not mean 
 to forfeit that also. This high distinc- 
 tion, not yet clearly understood, but 
 dearly valued, because repeatedly con- 
 firmed by God, with whom these Pa- 
 triarchs held an immediate intercourse, 
 was assured to Jacob, who, notwith- 
 standing this lapse of integrity, still, 
 in the most forlorn state of destitution, 
 and in the exigencies of mortal fear, 
 ever fixed his eyes on the God of his 
 fathers. Impatience to secure to the 
 son whom she preferred, the rights 
 which, by birth, belonged to the first- 
 born, tempted Rebecca to project, and
 
 329 
 
 Jacob to execute an act of falsehood, 
 fraud, and injustice, which made the 
 latter an alien from his father's house, 
 confirmed Esau in an irreligious dispo- 
 sition, and irritated his violent tempei 
 to meditate the crime of fratricide. It 
 also deprived Rebecca of the society of 
 the son who was her delight, and that 
 son of his rightful portion of his father's 
 great riches ; sent him with only his 
 staff in his hand, when past the meri- 
 dian of his days, to toil for bread under 
 the stern inspection of a semi-idolatrous 
 uncle, unlike the son of wealthy Isaac ; 
 to be defrauded at once of the bride 
 whom he had earned by seven years' 
 labour, and of his stipulated hire ; to 
 pass, as he himself avowed, * few and 
 evil days,' living in anxiety, fear, and 
 distress, a pilgrim and wanderer ; to 
 have the fraud which he practised in 
 his earlier years more cruelly retaliated
 
 330 
 
 in his old age ; and to see the beloved 
 orphan of a beloved wife the object of 
 hatred to his brethren. Take note, my 
 dear girls, how a spark of evil kindles a 
 destructive flame. I could go further, 
 and speak of the bloody wars and ran- 
 corous hate which subsisted for ages 
 between the posterity of the alienated 
 brothers, all springing from want of 
 that patience which should wait God's 
 good time to give us what we ardently 
 crave, and from recourse to indirect 
 means for gratifying what is in itself a 
 pious and highly commendable desire." 
 
 " And yet," said Ellen, " we do not 
 read in scripture of the displeasure of 
 God at Jacob for his duplicity, or of 
 his contrition." 
 
 " Scripture, my dear, contains so 
 much instruction in such small space, 
 passing over the whole period of re- 
 corded time, that where an inference
 
 331 
 
 can be drawn, it is often left to the sa- 
 gacity of the attentive reader to extract 
 the moral. We know that God abhors 
 falsehood, iniquity, and wrong. Jacob's 
 stormy, melancholy life, and Rebecca's 
 maternal bereavement, are as legible a 
 comment on their deeds as the crime and 
 death of Amnion, and the rebellion of Ab- 
 salom, are signal illustrations of God's 
 displeasure at David for the murder of 
 Uriah, in which case also temporal pu- 
 nishment was inflicted after the sin was 
 affirmed to be pardoned ; proving, I 
 think, that Omnipotence will not (per- 
 haps according to his own rule of go- 
 vernment, cannot,) in this world sepa- 
 rate guilt from its concomitant misery. 
 They who fraudulently grasp at the 
 rights of others, must expect to have 
 the world combine against them. The 
 conduct of sons is generally reflective 
 of that of their father. Parental par-
 
 332 
 
 tiality meets its own castigation in the 
 envy and hatred which it inspires. No 
 one ever yielded to the temptation of 
 walking in indirect paths without hav- 
 ing cause to regret his deviation from 
 4 truth and upright innocency.' 
 
 " But, in the case before us, do not 
 suppose that I set the stamp of repro- 
 bation upon one who was evidently 
 high in the favour of God, and with 
 whom we are encouraged to hope that 
 all true believers shall ' sit down in the 
 kingdom of heaven.' I speak of him 
 as a fallible character, not in all things 
 to be imitated, but in many to be re- 
 vered. Let us, in extenuation of his 
 fault, observe, that the birth-right which 
 Jacob unfairly purchased, and the bless- 
 ing which he fraudulently obtained, did 
 not convey temporal possessions, but 
 were * sacraments, or outward visible 
 signs of inward spiritual gifts.' Esau
 
 333 
 
 inherited all that Isaac possessed, and 
 in so doing gratified a disposition that 
 seems to have looked no further than 
 temporal good. The privilege which 
 Jacob personally possessed was an in- 
 timate communion with the God of 
 his Fathers ; a blessing which only a 
 devout mind could appreciate. Re- 
 mote and distant was the honour of 
 giving birth and name to that nation 
 who became ' the keepers of the lively 
 oracles of God/ and still more so, that 
 of being progenitor of the Messiah. 
 Yet this portion of the blessing of Abra- 
 ham seems ever to have predominated 
 in his thoughts ; and we find him on 
 his death-bed, in confiding obedience 
 to the divine will, bestowing it on his 
 son Judah, who had no particular share 
 of his affections, and not on Joseph his 
 beloved, to whom, with the delighted 
 reiteration of passionate fondness, he
 
 334 
 
 gives the double portion and temporal 
 blessings which Essau had borne away 
 from himself. These, Isaac's first-born 
 not only personally enjoyed, but trans- 
 mitted to his posterity, among whom 
 Moses records the existence of kings 
 and dukes ; while the issue of Jacob 
 groaned amid the brick-kilns of Egypt, 
 or fasted in the wilderness. So true is 
 it that worldly prosperity is not the 
 rule by which we should measure the 
 favour of God." 
 
 My grandmother and her friend now 
 discussed the fata] consequences of ad- 
 mitting expediency as a rule of conduct, 
 and an excuse for actions acknowledged 
 to be evil, a disgrace which adhered to 
 the Romish church, the school of in- 
 fidel philosophy, the lyceum of antient 
 dialectics, and the modern temples of 
 Plutus. They spoke of doing evil that 
 good may come, as diametrically oppo-
 
 335 
 
 site to Christian principles, as the reason 
 why Caiaphas and Pilate gave up the 
 Lord of Glory, (though they believed 
 him to be an innocent man,) because 
 it " was expedient for one man to die 
 for the people," or "lest a tumult 
 should be made." My grandmother 
 remarked, that even the guilt of Judas 
 might be vindicated, if the excuse of 
 expediency were admitted. There is 
 great reason to think that when he be- 
 trayed his Master to those who he 
 knew sought his blood, he did not anti- 
 cipate the consequences that followed ; 
 but believing that Christ was the person 
 who should restore the kingdom to 
 Israel, he expected such a display of 
 miraculous power as should free him 
 from his enemies, and assert his right 
 to the throne of David ; he committed 
 a profitable treason to himself; and 
 looked for legions of angels to rescue
 
 336 
 
 his Master. Hence his remorse when 
 he beheld Him "led like a lamb to the 
 slaughter." Hence his dreadful sui- 
 cide, and the awful certainty of the fu- 
 ture doom of " this son of perdition/' 
 are astounding warnings to all who 
 think to further their own interests by 
 the commission of crimes the devil in- 
 timates to be only venial and inconse- 
 quential. 
 
 The conversation soon turned to a 
 different subject, being led by Mrs. 
 Goodenough's remark, that Rebecca's 
 behaviour in the method she took to 
 ensnare her husband into a fulfilment 
 of what she knew T to be the divine will, 
 savoured not of that simplicity pre- 
 scribed to holy women, which forbade 
 " their good to be evil spoken oi\" but 
 denoted the politic craft of an artful 
 wife, determined on carrying her own 
 design. She seemed indeed to have
 
 337 
 
 had the enunciation of God's purposes 
 for her children, more clearly present 
 to her mind than Isaac, and to have 
 fixed a steadier, more desiring eye on 
 the prophetical promise. But, instead 
 of reminding him of the revelation re- 
 specting her unborn babes, she seems 
 to have wanted courage to contend 
 with his paternal partiality for Esau ; 
 and either from timidity, or from the 
 vanity of a little mind, piquing itself 
 on its capacity for plot and stratagem, 
 to have avoided the sure and direct 
 road of conjugal advice, choosing to 
 trick him into a fulfilment of her desires, 
 rather than entreat him to obey the 
 designs of infinite wisdom and fore- 
 knowledge. 
 
 " Rebecca/' said our grandmother, 
 11 had studied the character of men bet- 
 ter than the immutable laws of truth. I 
 am always disgusted when I see the 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 338 
 
 lords of the creation stubbornly refus- 
 ing advice, but easily cajoled j for does 
 not this prove, that an artful woman, 
 who conceals her purposes, models men 
 to her will ; while a frank-hearted 
 one has no influence ? I will premise 
 that in both instances the wife means 
 to promote her husband's honour, hap- 
 piness, or advantage ; and I here de- 
 clare that I prohibit ill-humour in all 
 its various forms, from violence to pout- 
 ing, as utterly unlawful arms for a 
 wife to use, even in the best cause, 
 and as an excuse for the contumacy 
 of her partner. But I also protest 
 against the practices of wheedling, 
 coaxing, finessing, or (what is vulgarly 
 called) ' getting the blind side/ as me- 
 retricious arts, suited to designate an 
 illicit and temporary, not an honourable, 
 permanent connection. These, though 
 submitted to, and even admired in a
 
 339 
 
 mistress, are always considered in a wife 
 equally derogatory to her who adopts, 
 and to him who endures them. It has 
 been said (I believe truly), that few 
 wives govern but those who are unfit 
 to rule ; and Crabbe, in his pleasant tale 
 of the Wager, has given us such a just 
 and lively portrait of the pretty petted 
 toy to whom man willingly and uncon- 
 sciously submits, as will not greatly 
 stimulate the fair reader to descend to 
 a like degradation of her own character 
 for the sake of being 'queen for life.'" 
 " You do not then, Mrs. Loveday," 
 remarked Mrs. Goodenough, "join in 
 admiring the address of Caroline Queen 
 to George the Second, who concerted 
 public measures with Sir Robert Wal- 
 pole, and then carried the point they 
 had agreed on with the pertinacious 
 King, to whom they proposed the di- 
 rectly opposite course, and piqued a 
 q 2
 
 340 
 
 man absurdly jealous of his own autho- 
 rity into an adoption of their plans 
 through the spirit of contradiction ?" 
 
 " Unquestionably not," was the re- 
 ply ; " because I would ever have a 
 husband appear in the eyes of his wife 
 so respectable as to be incapable of 
 being duped, even for his own good. 
 We must, however, allow much in be- 
 half of royal spousals, and of all unions 
 not founded on previous affection, 
 where it is our duty to make the best 
 we can of a lot which was rather forced 
 upon us than chosen. A well-principled 
 woman will not marry a man of whose 
 understanding she has so mean an opi- 
 nion as to foresee that in her future 
 commerce with him she must have re- 
 course to what I deem the greatest 
 mental prostitution, a system of con- 
 stant duplicity. In the case of this 
 princess, it is admitted that she had to
 
 341 
 
 contend with an unusual degree of po- 
 sitiveness, joined to those contracted 
 views which are the consequence of 
 early neglect, and also of licentious 
 morals, unchecked by discipline, and 
 authorized by paternal example. The 
 influence which she obtained was nobly 
 exercised. She shed the brilliancy of her 
 enlarged mind, superior information, 
 and graceful manners, over his court, 
 while in her carriage to him she pre- 
 served the perfect devotion and obse- 
 quious respect of a really attached and 
 dutiful wife. Yet one part of her con- 
 duct I cannot pardon, and must hope 
 that it is misrepresented : I mean her 
 choosing the more than suspected mis- 
 tress of her husband for her particular 
 friend, and treating adultery with levity, 
 by calling the favourite ' Sister Suffolk.' 
 Perhaps she wished to show that she 
 discredited court scandal. It is wise for 
 Q 3
 
 342 
 
 a lady to shut her eyes, if possible, on 
 her husband's crimes as well as on his 
 errors ; but surely she implicates her 
 own purity by acknowledging that she 
 has detected them, and yet, neither as a 
 wife nor a christian, shrinks from their 
 enormity by treating with ridicule what 
 ought to excite abhorrence and grief. 
 In this part of Queen Caroline's con- 
 duct, I look in vain for that conscien- 
 tious magnanimity which signalized her 
 early rejection of the hand of an Aus- 
 trian Arch-Duke, afterwards Emperor, 
 which was offered to her on condition 
 of her renouncing the Protestant faith, 
 and becoming a proselyte to the Church 
 of Rome. But where, among the sons 
 and daughters of Adam, shall we find 
 perfection, or even consistency ?" 
 
 The matrons joined in censuring or 
 pitying those wives who do not occupy 
 their due station in their family, whe-
 
 343 
 
 ther owing to their own indolence, 
 selfishness, or cowardice, or to their 
 spouse's impatience of having a rival 
 near his throne. "Where else," said one 
 of them, " do you in general see chil- 
 dren turn out so unfortunately as where 
 the mother had no voice, where the 
 sons were early told not to regard her, 
 and were trained to insult and teaze 
 their sisters ? " I wondered to hear self- 
 ishness enumerated among the causes 
 which prevented ladies from attempt- 
 ing to lay hold of at least vice-regal 
 power, and quoted Pope's well known 
 aphorism. " Go on," said Mrs. Good- 
 enough, 
 
 " ■ But mark the fate of a whole sex of queens, 
 Pow'r all their end, but beauty all the means.' 
 
 Our empire, Miss Herbert, is generally 
 
 founded upon the sands, and is every 
 
 day liable to the inroads of the tide of 
 
 0, 4
 
 1 344 
 
 time. Unhappily we do not seek a 
 more stable foundation. We deem it 
 so much more congenial to dress, trifle, 
 and look pretty, than to acquire the 
 adornments which St. Peter recom- 
 mends, that we (no, I will rather say 
 some of us,) dare not risk our husband's 
 liberality to our desires and indulgence 
 of our caprices, by standing forth to 
 protect an ill-treated child, or even to 
 rescue himself from his own follies, and 
 to save our family from disgrace and 
 ruin. And do men blame us for this ? 
 Is it not the character which modern 
 poetry and literature, I must not say 
 deify, but certainly idolize ? Is not an 
 ever-smiling, unmeddling wife esteemed 
 the highest prize in the conjugal lot- 
 tery ; while a shrug of the shoulders, 
 and a blank look, ever attends the an- 
 nunciation of a faithful, admonishing, 
 provident wife? The woman whom
 
 3*5 
 
 King Lemuel's mother pointed out for 
 his consort, has slight charms in the 
 eyes of a modern fine gentleman, who 
 casts an enraptured look on Egypt's 
 voluptuous Queen, ' whom every thing 
 became;' who made defect perfection ; 
 ' whose infinite variety custom could 
 not stale; and whose every passion 
 strove to make itself fair and admired.' " 
 " But surely," Ellen asked, " nature 
 has not fixed an insuperable barrier be- 
 tween what is estimable and what is 
 agreeable ?" 
 
 " Decidedly not," continued Mrs. 
 Goodenough, " and the controversy be- 
 tween men of all ages and us old wo- 
 men arises from the pertinacity with 
 which each side holds forth to exclusive 
 adoption those qualities to which the 
 tendency of their respective views as- 
 signs the preference, a custom ex- 
 tremely prevalent between disputants, 
 Q 5
 
 346 
 
 who, if they allowed themselves to be 
 explicit, would often find that they 
 were of the same opinion. There is no 
 more necessity that a combination 
 should exist of ill temper and prudence, 
 of entertaining talents and extrava- 
 gance, than there is that a good wife 
 should be very ugly, or she who is pos- 
 sessed of a good fortune be very dis- 
 agreeable. " 
 
 "We have seen," said my grand- 
 mother, " women who blended in their 
 character all that can elevate with all 
 that adorns their sex ; and again I will 
 take my illustration from some who 
 have worn the crown of England. The 
 consorts of the third William and of 
 the third George were distinguished 
 for talents and virtues, and for the quiet 
 magnanimity with which they sustained 
 their domestic trials; never swerving 
 from duty ; never suffering the prying
 
 347 
 
 eye of slander to detect a blemish on 
 their fair fame ; meekly submitting to 
 the inflictions of Divine Providence ; 
 and holding fast the faith by the anchor 
 of religion. To the memory of Charlotte 
 every chaste matron in England must 
 look with gratitude, as to that of the 
 conservator of her especial privileges ; 
 for she first purified the atmosphere of 
 the court from unhallowed approach, 
 and thus gave a law to the higher orders 
 of society, which inferior grades would 
 not dare to rescind on pain of forfeit- 
 ing their claim to gentility. Her af- 
 flictions are well known, as is also the 
 fortitude, the persevering affection, the 
 uncomplaining patience with which she 
 sustained them. But as those afflictions 
 proceeded immediately from the hand 
 of Providence, they were perhaps easier 
 to be endured than those which arose 
 directly from human causes. Mary's 
 Q 6
 
 348 
 
 brief career was esteemed fortunate ; 
 but the penetrating eye of curiosity, in 
 turning over the private remarks of con- 
 temporaries, has detected many latent 
 sorrows, which sprang from the austere 
 temper and sensuality of her husband, 
 and also an anguish hidden in the deep- 
 est recesses of her heart, and probably 
 even unacknowledged to herself: I 
 mean a partiality for a highly gifted no- 
 bleman, whose presence and attentions 
 ever used to agitate her frame, though 
 with the magnanimity of determined 
 virtue her eyes were turned to her 
 moody lord, studious to moderate his 
 humours and to soften his asperities. 
 Mary, by her conduct both as a wife 
 and as a queen, deserved a more gra- 
 cious and a more faithful husband; and 
 at her death, William, though still the 
 dupe of the licentious Countess of Ork- 
 ney, did justice to the virtues of his
 
 349 
 
 departed consort, whose premature, 
 awful, unexpected end overwhelmed 
 him with anguish, and deep, though not 
 reclaiming remorse. It is known that 
 he preserved her hair and wedding ring 
 concealed near his heart, as they were 
 so found on his corpse. ' I cannot but 
 grieve/ said he to those who strove to 
 console him, • for a wife who, in seven- 
 teen years, never committed an indis- 
 cretion.' This was the character of 
 youth, beauty, royalty, vivacity, great 
 natural talent, extraordinary sweetness 
 of temper, a finely cultivated under- 
 standing, indefatigable industry, and 
 exemplary piety. It is a proof that 
 such combinations are possible ; and it 
 was given her by a husband faithless to 
 his vows, cold to her perfections, and 
 unkind in his behaviour, yet one whom 
 she had dared to reprove for offences 
 which, as her enlarged knowledge of
 
 350 
 
 the divine law taught her, would ex- 
 clude from the favour of God." 
 
 I burst into exclamations against the 
 " Hero William/' in whom the most 
 uxorious dotage would have been par- 
 donable, and bitterly lamented this 
 excellent lady's peculiarly hard lot. 
 " Your judgment, my Emma," said 
 my grandmother, "is, I fancy, founded 
 on the perusal of fictions, in which the 
 claims of poetical justice, as it is called, 
 are strictly attended to, and virtue re- 
 ceives that high guerdon of esteem and 
 happiness which certainly are not its 
 constant portion ; nor are they held 
 out by Providence as its sure reward. 
 Much evil is done to the principles of 
 young people, and their peace is sub- 
 jected to the severe trial of defeated 
 hope, by that delusive art which paints 
 in false colours the world they are about 
 to enter, instead of giving it its true
 
 351 
 
 aspect of a probationary, not a retribu- 
 tive state, a scene of trial rather than 
 of enjoyment. Equally fallacious are 
 the lineaments which fiction also gives 
 to characters, when it generalizes vice 
 and virtue without admitting those 
 lights and shadows which man, as well 
 as the events in which he is an actor, 
 constantly exhibits in his conduct and 
 designs. History would clear our 
 views in these particulars, and it would 
 also reform them, were not its pen 
 guided by the same fallible beings 
 whom it describes and instructs. Is it 
 not, therefore, liable to mistake or mis. 
 representations, when it pretends to 
 judge of motives, or to record private 
 actions, and may it not also be warped 
 by prejudice, and blinded by party? 
 
 " But in this volume,'* continued 
 she, taking up the Bible, which, espe- 
 cially on a Sunday, lay at her elbow,
 
 352 
 
 " there is neither mistake nor miscon- 
 ception, prejudice nor party views ; for 
 the facts it records were commemorated 
 by divine inspiration, and, in those pas- 
 sages where the heart of man is laid 
 open, its real nature is unreservedly 
 disclosed." I spoke of the gloomy de- 
 pression which must result from such a 
 view of men and things, and of my- 
 self as being already quite tired of the 
 world. 
 
 " That," said Mrs. Loveday, " pro- 
 ceeds from your having been taught to 
 expect a different one. Tell me, Emma, 
 what that world should be to the endu- 
 rance of which you would be recon- 
 ciled. Give us the result of your own 
 experience. Tell us if you have ever 
 felt quite happy, and what would now 
 make you so." 
 
 These were all soul-searching ques- 
 tions, and the first could only be an-
 
 353 
 
 swered affirmatively by referring to 
 my very early days, when I was too 
 young to reflect and to discriminate, but 
 when I was alive to the enjoyment of 
 infantine pleasures. I had since been 
 at balls, where I was neglected ; at 
 parties, from whence nothing resulted ; 
 and at public places, where I was not 
 amused. I had indeed felt an exhila- 
 ration, resembling happiness, while 
 anticipating scenes that had ended in 
 fatigue and disappointment ; but as I 
 was ashamed of giving that name to 
 the satisfaction of putting on well ex- 
 ecuted dresses, and well arranged 
 plumes, I was forced to own that I had 
 never been quite happy since the days 
 of bon-bons and skipping-ropes. I 
 paused, and added, — but as the mistress 
 of a respectable establishment I thought 
 it possible that I might be happy. 
 My grandmother smiled at this frank
 
 354 
 
 acknowledgment of the summum bonum 
 to which my eyes had ever been direct- 
 ed, and, after asking me if I could 
 tolerate a William of Nassau for its 
 master, observed that marriage did not 
 change the condition of humanity, 
 though, if the union had been wisely 
 contracted, it secured to us the blessing 
 of a faithful partner, a guide in diffi- 
 culties, a comforter in sorrows, an 
 assistant in our labours, a partici- 
 pator in our cares, a companion in all 
 life's varied scenes. Still the scenes 
 of life would continue to be varied, 
 and our partner would be, like our- 
 selves, beset with passions and infirmi- 
 ties. Among many solid comforts in 
 the marriage state, we must experience 
 difficulties, labours, and cares ; the 
 latter rather multiplied than diminished 
 by an extension of our social ties. 
 " We may," said she, " in general
 
 355 
 
 point to the mother or the mistress of 
 a large family, rather as a very useful 
 being, called to great exertions, sacri- 
 fices, and trials, than as a very happy 
 one. Her bodily pains, watchings, and 
 exertions, during the infancy of her 
 children ; her subsequent anxiety for 
 their health, safety, prosperity, and 
 good conduct, make her life anything 
 but that state of peace and self-posses- 
 sion, in which the nearest approaches 
 to real happiness are supposed to be 
 realized. There are occurrences, not 
 unfrequent ones, which impose upon 
 her a martyr's sufferings, and in which 
 like a martyr, her lips must be sealed 
 against complaint ; I mean those bitter 
 sorrows which arise from the miscon- 
 duct of those whom we love, and of 
 which some portion generally falls to 
 the parents of large families. There 
 is no stroke so agonizing as that in-
 
 356 
 
 flicted by the vices of those to whom 
 we are nearly allied, and whom it is 
 still our duty to cherish and to love. 
 Yet this, I think, is a situation on which 
 our clergy rarely expatiate, though it 
 calls for all the aids of religion, all the 
 stimulants to fortitude, all the elucidation 
 of a Light Divine, to inform our judg- 
 ment and to support our spirits, while 
 pondering on the tremendous conviction 
 that those who to us are so precious, are 
 at enmity with God. Compared with 
 this, the modified affliction of weeping 
 over the grave of a dead child, of 
 attending the couch of a suffering one ; 
 of mourning the blasted fortunes of one 
 who is unfortunate, of sympathising in 
 the aspersed innocence which we cannot 
 vindicate ; or even of joining in the 
 tears of some ill-married girl, worth an 
 empery, but thrown to a villain ; all 
 these woes are endurable, ' the light
 
 357 
 
 affliction of a moment,' sorrows which 
 death will relieve; they are light in 
 comparison with the anxiety concern- 
 ing a rebel child, and the fear of missing 
 that child among the happy multitudes 
 which surround the throne of God. 
 Blessed be that God, such anguish has 
 not been mine ! I have buried children, 
 not lost reprobates ! The bodies I com- 
 mitted to the earth, in humble hope, 
 were but the exuviae of a more glorious 
 creature. 5 ' 
 
 We were all deeply affected, espe- 
 cially Mrs. Goodenough, whose sorrows 
 I found bore the character alluded to. 
 My grandmother's sublime and grateful 
 resignation had transported her into a 
 momentary forgetfulness of her friend's 
 trials. It led me to think deeply on 
 what might be called the sinister side 
 of a good establishment, which seemed 
 not impregnable to affliction.
 
 358 
 
 Ellen now asked if Gray was right 
 in his advice of concealing from youth- 
 ful minds the nature of the world on 
 which they must soon enter, and re- 
 peated his lines, 
 
 " Where ignorance is bliss, 
 
 Tis folly to be wise." 
 
 " By this rule," said my grandmo- 
 ther, " we should forbid an actor to 
 study his part till he is pushed upon 
 the stage. I do not say that we should 
 call the sprightly boy from * chasing 
 the rolling circle's speed,' or < urging 
 the flying ball,' to listen to the death- 
 watch ; but is childhood, is even 
 infancy exempt from a share of human 
 calamity? Is it not most erroneous 
 then to bestow on the prospects of 
 advancing youth and manhood an un- 
 real gilding, and to hold out prosperity 
 and sublunary bliss as the certain re- 
 ward of desert ? This is wrong, be-
 
 359 
 
 cause it is untrue ; it is most pre- 
 eminently wrong in forming the mind 
 of a young person, when, whatever is 
 untrue, should be abjured. I should 
 say, speaking to parents, accustom 
 those under your care to be exposed to 
 those petty disappointments which are 
 their trials, without studying to avert 
 the vexation, or contriving for them 
 some compensation of future pleasure ; 
 without weakening their minds by pity, 
 or inducing them to believe that they 
 suffer more than others, or endure any 
 thing which either can or ought to be 
 averted. I do not recommend what I 
 understand to have been the practice 
 of a very learned and distinguished pre- 
 late ; I do not say, study to cross their 
 wishes, and contrive for them mortifica- 
 tions as exercises of patience, because I 
 reprobate all needless severity, all art and 
 contrivance, and do verily believe that
 
 360 
 
 even happy childhood has enough of 
 sorrow to discipline it for its future 
 duties. But I will affirm that improper 
 indulgence of children, by habituating 
 them early to luxury, encouraging the 
 intenseness of their feelings, and inflam- 
 ing their passions at the expence of 
 their fortitude and prudence, causes 
 one half of the folly and misery that 
 we see in the world 5 it produces the 
 inordinate, disreputable, exclusive pur- 
 suit of wealth, the profusion of dis- 
 sipation, the ennui of enjoyment, the 
 clamours of the disappointed, and the 
 villanyor despair of the desperate. If 
 young people were early accustomed 
 to expect that their opinions will be 
 contradicted, their hopes repulsed, their 
 desires mortified, and were taught that 
 they must labour up the hill of difficulty, 
 burdened with their fortunes, as Sisy- 
 phus rolled his stone, ever expecting
 
 361 
 
 recoils, success would appear a boon, 
 not a recompense, and people would 
 rather be disposed to be grateful than 
 querulous. I am for imparting, not 
 gloomy, but just views of life ; my aim 
 is to prevent, not to foster melancholy. 
 There is now, as there was in God's 
 primeval world, much that is very good. 
 The calamities of life which proceed 
 from our own follies, vices, and im- 
 prudencies, or the vices, follies, and 
 imprudencies of near and dear connec- 
 tions, must rather be referred to the 
 sufferance than to the direct infliction 
 of God. The material world is always 
 very interesting, often beautiful. The 
 inferior beings of the animal creation, 
 who appear to have much fewer com- 
 forts, and many more privations and 
 sufferings than man, always seem to 
 enjoy life, at least to be satisfied with 
 existence, except when suffering with 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 862 
 
 pain ; and as to the inflictions which 
 God sends us in the shape of unfruit- 
 ful seasons, — sickness, not resulting 
 from intemperance, — poverty, not the 
 consequence of extravagance, — the 
 death of beloved friends, — the ravages 
 of the elements, — public calamities, or 
 any similar visitations, — let the child, as 
 he is early taught to avoid folly, vice, 
 and improvidence, and thus to save 
 himself and his connections from at 
 least half the impending evils of his 
 future career, be also instructed to 
 regard those inflictions which I have 
 enumerated, as trials designed by God 
 to prove his virtue, to exercise his forti- 
 tude, and by the woes and perils of a 
 probationary state, adapted to his decay- 
 ing mortal vehicle, to prepare him for 
 a glorified body, and an entrance into 
 heaven/' 
 
 Our desultory, but to my mind
 
 363 
 
 interesting and improving conversation, 
 was terminated by the appearance of 
 the domestics for evening devotion. 
 My grandmother put her hand before 
 her eyes, and devoted a few moments 
 to recollection ; without naming her 
 design, she seemed desirous to supply 
 the omissions of the pulpit, and pro- 
 pounded the example of our Saviour 
 as our best guide to the heaven which 
 he promises to his faithful servants. 
 She spoke of his whole character as 
 the most peculiar, the most varied, yet 
 consistent, extraordinary but not ex- 
 travagant, ever presented to the world ; 
 and contrasted it with the opinions 
 and practices now so prevalent. In 
 every stage of society, she said, it was 
 the peculiar advantage of Christianity 
 to hold up the portrait of her founder, 
 as Aaron did the censer of incense, to 
 stay the contagion of moral destruction. 
 r 2
 
 364> 
 
 That lust of empire which led to devas- 
 tating war, that cruel contempt for the 
 sufferings of others which aggravates 
 the woes of slavery, the more audacious 
 deeds of licentiousness and rapine had 
 now ceased to be predominating sins. 
 But still our passions were rather fostered 
 and excited than restrained; and writers 
 who acknowledge that they have never 
 read the scriptures which they profess 
 to disregard *, ask why these passions 
 are implanted in our bosoms if we are 
 prohibited from indulging them. A 
 christian, conversant with the book of 
 God, knows how to reply: they are given 
 as motives to action, and preventives of 
 apathy, into which, without such im- 
 petus the soul would be too apt to sink. 
 They are like winds that move the 
 ocean, and impel the vessel to its de- 
 
 * This was the case of Dr. Franklin. See Priestley's 
 Memoirs of himself.
 
 565 
 
 stined port. They are the links of 
 social affection which bind us to our 
 fellow- creatures, but their tendency to 
 excess requires continual care, lest they 
 should degenerate into appetites, in- 
 stead of being exalted into affections. 
 Here then let us study the character 
 of our Lord. He was angry with the 
 Scribes and Pharisees, but he did not 
 sin ; he loved his disciples, but not 
 with partial fondness. He wept at 
 the grave of Lazarus ; he felt for the 
 anguish of his mother when he was 
 hanging on the cross ; but in both 
 cases, his was an useful and chastised 
 pity : he feared the approaching agony 
 of his passion, but submission to the 
 will of God induced fortitude. He 
 felt the revilings and mockery of sin- 
 ners, but resentment did not urge him 
 to retort. He saw schemes laid for 
 his destruction, but no guile came out 
 r3
 
 366 
 
 of his mouth ; no art appeared in his 
 conduct ; he treated Judas with kind- 
 ness, though his prescience detected in 
 him his destined betrayer. What a 
 lesson to us against cherishing cause- 
 less dislikes, inflicting harsh chastise- 
 ment for slight offences, or acting on 
 the vague impulses of ill-defined sus- 
 picions. She proceeded to direct our 
 admiration to the meek condescension 
 of the Fountain of all wisdom in asso- 
 ciating with ignorant men of lowly con- 
 dition, thus affording a lesson to those 
 vain mortals, who, deeming themselves 
 highly gifted, shrink from all contact 
 with what they call the vulgar and un- 
 informed. The entire submission of 
 Jesus to the will of God, and his 
 patient endurance of every privation, 
 she opposed to our querulous com- 
 plaints at trivial inconveniences ; con- 
 trasted our insatiable ambition with his
 
 367 
 
 general disregard not only of the splen- 
 dour, but of the conveniencies of life ; 
 and denounced our unthankful usage 
 of the blessings which we enjoy, and 
 our high opinion of our own extra- 
 ordinary deserts by reminding us of the 
 uniform lowliness of His mind, and his 
 gracious acceptance of the most hum- 
 ble services. She added, " The con- 
 duct of Christ also suggests to us 
 prudential rules to guide our judg- 
 ment. He ever aimed at a higher 
 reward than the praise of man, yet on 
 all occasions he was desirous to avoid 
 reproach, and advised us not to let our 
 good be evil spoken of. He forcibly 
 reproved that reigning error of this 
 age, the love of notoriety, evinced in a 
 public display of good deeds, either of 
 piety or charity ; yet he commanded 
 us, on fit occasions, to let our light 
 shine before the world, and not to bury 
 r 4
 
 368 
 
 our talents in the earth. These in- 
 junctions implied that we should never 
 be deterred from avowing our religious 
 principles by the fear of ridicule ; never 
 shrink from a plain duty on account of 
 its having become unpopular, and 
 always give to piety the attractions of a 
 well-regulated temper, and amiable 
 manners. 
 
 Ellen here asked my grandmother's 
 permission to repeat, from the works of 
 a lady whom she much respected, some 
 rules for our conduct in regard to 
 notoriety in good works, which seemed 
 remarkably clear and definite. 
 
 " Pursue always one straight path, 
 without ever stepping out of your way 
 either to attract observation, or to 
 avoid it. Choose to do good in the 
 most private manner, whenever that is 
 a matter of choice ; but as this is in 
 many cases impossible, do, as quietly
 
 369 
 
 as you can, all the good that is incum- 
 bent on you ; that is, all the good you 
 are capable of in your station, and with- 
 out interfering where you absolutely 
 ought not to interfere."* 
 
 My grandmother smiled, either from 
 a perception of the train of Ellen's 
 thoughts, or from approbation of this 
 application. She praised these instruc- 
 tions as plain and practical. " The 
 character of Miss Talbot," she said, 
 " was distinguished by Christian graces 
 and rare talents. She was peculiarly 
 remarkable for a quality which the 
 Lord of Glory put on with his mortal 
 habiliments — the virtue of humility; it 
 was conspicuous both in her manners 
 and in her mind. This virtue can only 
 be learned in the school of Christ, and 
 is repugnant to the precepts of every 
 
 * Miss Talbot's Essays. 
 R 5
 
 370 
 
 other master, to our own inborn feel- 
 ings and acquired principles, to the ge- 
 neral practice of the world in this and 
 every former age, to the models pro- 
 pounded for our imitation, and, it is to 
 be feared, also to the parental admo- 
 nition which youth generally receives. 
 Yet is this grace of lowliness (repeat- 
 edly enjoined and sanctioned by the 
 Gospel) admitted, even by its revilers, 
 to be most conducive to the repose of 
 the world, and also eminently advan- 
 tageous to the individual who has for- 
 titude to practise it. < Blessed are the 
 meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' 
 ' Whosoever exalteth himself shall be 
 humbled; and he that humbleth him- 
 self shall be exalted.' These are the 
 beatitudes which Scripture pronounces 
 on humility ; and who among us can 
 look back on our past lives without 
 owning that they are prophecies as well
 
 371 
 
 as precepts, realised by what we call 
 the natural course of events, and thus 
 proved to emanate from Him who 
 knoweth what is good for man. 
 
 rG
 
 372 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 My good grandmother discovered that 
 the life she led had too much sameness 
 and seclusion to suit my habits, and 
 was, perhaps, also too sedentary for my 
 health. I had neither taste nor skill 
 for the active employments which gave 
 elasticity to Ellen's mind, and a ruddy 
 tinge to her cheek ; and fancying that 
 they would be quite useless to one who 
 only looked on the country as a tem- 
 porary sojourn, I felt no inclination to 
 become her pupil. My health was an 
 object deemed worthy of consideration, 
 so the ponies and the chaise were put 
 into daily requisition. Giles being 
 withdrawn from his offices of gardener 
 and footman, Bridget kindly volunteer- 
 ed to weed the onions, Martha cleaned
 
 373 
 
 the knives, my grandmother shelled 
 peas and picked currants, and Ellen 
 drove me about, and showed me all the 
 lions in the neighbourhood. 
 
 It generally happens that when great 
 pains are evidently taken to please us, 
 an idea of innate consequence intrudes, 
 and we receive that as a tribute which 
 was meant for a boon. I blush to say 
 that my mind was now of this wayward 
 cast. I saw pretty houses and fine 
 views ; we also called on several simper- 
 ing misses, who, after peeping through 
 the blinds, to see who we were, and 
 hastily arranging their lettered bou- 
 doirs and neglected toilettes, were ex- 
 cessively glad to see us, and had nothing 
 more to say, except wondering we did 
 not come oftener. Ellen then again 
 drove me home without one adventure, 
 except perhaps Gray loosing a shoe, or 
 Roan being a little galled by his collar;
 
 3?4 
 
 yet Ellen's invincible vivacity always 
 found some subject for piquant remarks. 
 My grandmother was uniformly cheer- 
 ful ; Bridget was in constant good hu- 
 mour, except when scolding Martha, or 
 railing at Mrs. Strictly 5 s stingy doings ; 
 Giles wore an everlasting grin on his 
 face ; the kitten was never weary of 
 playing with her tail ; the lambs danced 
 and ran races every evening ; the birds 
 sang; the butterflies sailed from cab- 
 bage to cabbage. " The country," said 
 I to myself, " for such a dull, stupid 
 place, is surprizingly merry. I wonder 
 that every thing should appear comfort" 
 able where I feel wretched." 
 
 There is such a thing as thinking 
 aloud, or at least, of wearing looks which 
 are as easy to comprehend as words. 
 Taciturn and pensive, I reclined one 
 evening on the sofa, in a languid, inte- 
 resting position, hoping, from the ex-
 
 3?5 
 
 p.erience of former kindness, for some- 
 body to humour and amuse me ; but 
 my grandmother, who had discovered 
 my disease, adopted another mode of 
 treatment, and resolved to show that 
 she and Ellen could be comfortable 
 without me. She observed that a trio 
 was preferable to a duet, and bade 
 her fetch Mrs. Macmendus as a fillip 
 to conversation. " Emma," said she, 
 with a look which rather implied pity 
 for mv listiessness than admiration of 
 the folds into which I had composed 
 my drapery, or the elegant curve of 
 my left arm, " Emma is. as you see, 
 incapable of assisting us ; perhaps we 
 may do her the service of reading her 
 to sleep," Ellen immediately began : 
 
 " The Improver. 
 
 " Amid the waste of years preserve entire 
 The undecaying spirit's nobler part, 
 
 The vital glance of intellectual fire, 
 And all the gentler graces of the heart. 
 
 Mrs. Carter.
 
 376 
 
 " I hope I shall not be deemed too 
 obscure to perceive, or too insensible to 
 catch the prevailing humour of the 
 times, if I endeavour to give my lucu- 
 brations a cheerful cast, and to recom- 
 mend contentment, instead of adopting 
 what is certainly easier to write, and, 
 to judge from its popularity, pleasanter 
 to read : I mean that mixture of the 
 lachrymatory and vituperative style 
 which is denominated grumbling ; a 
 word so thoroughly native as to be 
 deemed in close affinity with English- 
 man. Now, though my political prin- 
 ciples lead me to wish that things may 
 be kept as they are, for fear that by 
 meddling we should make them worse, 
 which is a symptom of the old woman's 
 prejudices and infirmities ; yet, as I 
 hate being singular, and as grumblers 
 are seldom thought to be in earnest, I 
 will try to be a little dolorous, and,
 
 377 
 
 blending my private inconveniencies 
 with public disasters, persuade my 
 readers that I deserve a better fortune 
 than I have experienced ; and that, 
 like Milton, I have fallen upon ' evil 
 tongues and evil days.' 
 
 " I know that I live in a ruined coun- 
 try, under a government which, having 
 acted wrong for centuries, must be now 
 become most intolerably oppressive. I 
 am aware that the whole human race 
 (myself excepted) has proceeded from 
 bad to worse ; that all the virtues uni- 
 versally practised in my youth are out 
 of fashion, and that even nature has 
 deteriorated ; that the seasons are less 
 genial, the summers either hotter or 
 colder, the winters more damp or more 
 frosty; and, as was observed by the mis- 
 anthrope in Gil Bias, even the peaches 
 are smaller than when I was a girl. 
 Add to this, every body is undone. To
 
 378 
 
 be sure, considering that we are all 
 undone people, every body does con- 
 trive to look and fare better than they 
 did fifty years ago, when England was 
 prosperous and I was a young woman ; 
 but I am aware that this is owing not 
 to their unconsciousness that they are 
 crape-attired puppets, acting a tragic 
 drama, but to that most poignant sen- 
 sation of despair which induced the 
 Epicureans to say, * Let us eat and 
 drink, for to-morrow we die.' If la- 
 dies and gentlemen grumble all the 
 morning, and engage in gay amuse- 
 ments every evening, it is no more a 
 proof of their being happy and pros- 
 perous than a maniac's averment that 
 he is a deposed monarch is demonstra- 
 tive of his royal birth. Medical people 
 say, that not only in some diseases 
 (hypochondria for instance,) incessant 
 complaint is a relief to the patient, but
 
 379 
 
 also in cases of severe pain, groaning 
 and lamenting has been found to pro- 
 long life, while the silent sufferer has 
 fallen a victim of noiseless anguish. 
 Far be it from me, therefore, to wish 
 to deprive my compatriots of their 
 prime satisfaction, or to require that 
 the unfortunate should ask themselves 
 if they have not ' also been unwise,' 
 lest it should induce a sort of apoplec- 
 tic determination of these peccant hu- 
 mours. ' I know that every body is 
 unhappy, and that none are rewarded 
 as they deserve ; and I will not give 
 one soporific drop to silence the uni- 
 versal ullaloo. I might as well inter- 
 dict many of my fellow-creatures from 
 the gift of speech. What would fine 
 ladies have to say at morning calls, if 
 they might not declaim against the 
 shivering coldness of one rout and the 
 crash of carriages at another? How
 
 380 
 
 could fine gentlemen live through the 
 ennui of a deep snow, if there were no 
 valets, tailors, or corset-makers on 
 whom to vent that spleen, which the 
 non-exhibition of a new varnished den- 
 nett and a well-tied cravat must other- 
 wise throw back on the system ? How 
 could managing housewives exist with- 
 out that description of infamous ser- 
 vants who are ever affording exercise 
 to their virtues? Why should I anni- 
 hilate those reservoirs of small scandal, 
 the shops of chandlers and green gro- 
 cers, who collect the tributary streams 
 of kitchen defamation for public sup- 
 ply, and thus bestow the satisfaction of 
 grumbling on those who are scantily 
 supplied with domestic discomforts, and 
 who there learn from the indubitable tes- 
 timony of maids of all work and errand 
 boys, that they live in a very wicked 
 world? Nay, might not the revenue
 
 381 
 
 suffer if the art of contentment were 
 more generally studied ; for of what do 
 letters that are not dictated by business, 
 science, or affection, generally consist 
 but of grumbling ? Three or four times 
 a year, as habit may have imposed the 
 rule, the post-office is enriched by the 
 missive of one miserable biped, (in fur- 
 therance of the plan of being all un- 
 happy together,) informing his distant 
 chum (friend I must not say, for I ex- 
 clude affection from an intercourse 
 which aims at giving pain), that he 
 should have written sooner, but that his 
 family have been out of sorts > that his 
 tenants have failed ; that his best horse 
 is lame ; the town dull and empty ; or 
 the country intolerably stupid ; and 
 that a host of blue devils are always 
 flying round him : or if none of these 
 domestic calamities occur, he may note 
 that ministers are going on at such a
 
 382 
 
 rate, he is sure it must soon be all over 
 with Old England, and he would emi- 
 grate, if there were another place in the 
 world in which he could bear to live. 
 Or change the miseries with the sex : 
 Miss Plaintive writes that she has a 
 cross papa, who dislikes the agreeable 
 captain ; or Mrs. Plaintive, if too pru- 
 dent to speak of her dear good man's 
 very odd ways, has odious neighbours, 
 and is either moped to death, or perse- 
 cuted, or the physician cannot find out 
 her complaint, or she suspects that little 
 Alfred will soon be indisposed ; and all 
 alike, conclude with tirades against this 
 miserable world. * Light grief is proud 
 of state and courts compassiori,' and 
 «a fellow-feeling makes us wondrous 
 kind.' The favoured correspondents 
 reply with similar elegiacs, and perhaps 
 have the satisfaction of adorning the 
 epic narration of their own distress
 
 383 
 
 with an episodical embellishment on 
 the sufferings of good Mr. and Mrs. 
 Such-a-one, who is also, though one of 
 the best creatures in the world, very 
 ill-used, and very unhappy. 
 
 " Having said enough to prove that I 
 have observed this predominating pen- 
 chant, and considered the pleas for its 
 utility, I trust that neither my patriot- 
 ism nor my philanthropy will be im- 
 pugned, should the character which I 
 am going to exhibit disclose some ad- 
 vantages that may result from the habit 
 of making the best of every thing, be- 
 cause it is only delineated in an old 
 woman, and meant to be confined to 
 those anomalies in society, or to such as 
 are outre enough to be preparing them- 
 selves to rank among them, of whom, 
 whether considered as the shadows of 
 days that are past, or the cloud that 
 hangs over beauty and youth, it may
 
 384 
 
 be said that no creature cares for them. 
 It is at least desirable that these Strul- 
 bergs, whom I once heard a gay lady 
 (herself then past the meridian of 
 life), devoutly wish taken hence out of 
 every body's way, should make them- 
 selves as innoxious as possible. My 
 friend Erminia seems to have succeed- 
 ed in this design, and also to have ren- 
 dered herself not merely tolerated, but 
 beloved by all around her ; and I hope 
 I shall not injure the galled kibes of 
 morbid sensibility by describing how, 
 without escaping the infirmities of age, 
 she has preserved herself from social 
 privations. Wrinkles have obtruded on 
 her brow, but certainly they have an 
 agreeable inflection. 
 
 " My acquaintance with this excellent 
 woman began late in life, and I am in- 
 debted to a very pleasant species of 
 egotism, by which, without making her-
 
 385 
 
 self the faultless heroine of her own 
 tale, she contrives to draw instruction 
 and amusement from her past adven- 
 tures, and detail to me the events which 
 formed her character. I have 'heard 
 her say it was her misfortune to have 
 parents who, by a too sedulous desire 
 to render her pre-eminently happy, 
 sowed the seeds of future wretchedness ; 
 and, but for a rare instance of felicitous 
 counteraction in her wedded lot, she 
 must have become a wayward com- 
 pound of social apathy and nervous 
 selfishness ; a creature floating between 
 indecision and self-conceit ; a maudlin 
 historiographer of her own high deserv- 
 ings, and of the wrongs and insults sus- 
 tained from a cruel, base, selfish world ; 
 and, of course, a miserable being, dis- 
 liked by others, on sufficient grounds. 
 Such was the lot her indulgent parents 
 prepared for her when they infused 
 vol. i. s
 
 386 
 
 into her mind the notion, that, because 
 she was their only child, she was the first 
 of human beings; and, fearing she might 
 encounter calamity when they were no 
 longer able to avert it, they resolved 
 to ward off all those puerile disappoint- 
 ments in infancy and childhood which 
 are designed to inure us to the labours 
 of youth, the sorrows of maturer life, 
 and the pains and privations of age. 
 Having thus endowed her with acute 
 feelings and an undisciplined will, they 
 married her to Probus, whose lucrative 
 occupation promised the means of con- 
 tinuing her present enjoyments, whose 
 character for good sense and good con- 
 duct was unimpeachable, and who was 
 moreover deeply in love with her, and 
 would make the happiness of their dear 
 girl his chief study. So indeed the fond 
 devotee of Cupid promised in their 
 sense of the word ; but Hymen's cap-
 
 387 
 
 tives see through a different medium ; 
 and though Probus continued to love his 
 wife, it was soon apparent that he had 
 tastes, pursuits, inclinations, and pas- 
 sions, as well as Erminia ; that they did 
 not always accord with hers ; and that 
 when they did not, he looked at the terms 
 of the marriage contract rather than to 
 the vows of dalliance and the records of 
 expected obedience. Erminia had good 
 sense, good principles, good temper, 
 and naturally a great degree of dis- 
 cernment : she loved her husband, and 
 reposed implicit confidence in his judg- 
 ment. Nothing was so dear to her as 
 his good opinion, and she saw that re- 
 sistance weakened her influence, whilst 
 it always proved unavailing; besides, 
 she candidly owned that she was rather 
 tired of having her own way. She dis- 
 covered that she was not always right ; 
 she began to dislike being the anxious 
 s2
 
 388 
 
 object of constant solicitude ; and grew 
 offended at the supposition that she 
 should require humouring. She there- 
 fore adopted submission and acquies- 
 cence as novelties, and soon found them 
 so pleasant in relieving her from the 
 responsibility of doing wrong, that a few 
 months after her marriage she cheer- 
 fully put the reins into the hands of Pro- 
 bus, and made no subsequent snatches 
 to get them back again. I have heard 
 that she was a most admirable wife ; 
 and the artless veneration and subdued 
 regret with which she speaks of her 
 husband, convinces me that she was a 
 happy one. A numerous family (all 
 of whom it has been her lot to survive), 
 and a larger share of what are called 
 trials than generally befals people in 
 easy circumstances, affected the spi- 
 rits, and subsequently the health, of 
 Probus 5 but, in the daily discharge of
 
 389 
 
 minute, circumscribed, and monoto- 
 nous, but important duties, Erminia 
 found occasion for that full and con- 
 scientious exercise of the benevolent 
 affections which, when combined with 
 devout aspirations of the soul to Him 
 who seeth in secret, constitutes 'the 
 peace of God which passeth all un- 
 derstanding.' I have said that her off- 
 spring were numerous ; so were her do- 
 mestics, among whom must be classed 
 a number of young men whose ser- 
 vices Probus required, and over whose 
 conduct he was old-fashioned enough to 
 exercise magisterial superintendence, 
 by making them inmates in his family. 
 The whole household had a patriarchal 
 appearance, for Erminia imitated those 
 primitive matrons who have had the 
 distinguished honour to be regarded as 
 symbols of Providence. 'Tis true she 
 prevented them from ' eating the bread 
 s3
 
 390 
 
 of idleness ;' but there was a kindness 
 in her vigilance which made ' the eyes 
 of her hand-maidens look to her/ not 
 merely for instruction, but also for sym- 
 pathy and protection. She did not con- 
 sider servants as automatons, wound up 
 to perform certain useful offices, but as 
 sentient beings, who had similar desires, 
 infirmities, and hopes, with herself; 
 fellow-pilgrims bearing dissimilar bur- 
 dens, but bound to the same country, 
 and destined to pass through the same 
 separating waters ; and she thought too 
 deeply of the impending estrangement 
 of her own boys to forget the golden 
 rule of doing to the children of other 
 mothers as she would have others do to 
 her children, or to consider the youths 
 who assisted Probus in his office as 
 mere conduit pipes for conveying a 
 larger stream of worldly advantage to 
 her family. The sums which they paid
 
 391 
 
 for instruction, and the services which 
 they rendered, she thought, required 
 remuneration ; and how could this be 
 better conferred than by the moral in- 
 fluence of an amiable and intelligent 
 woman presiding over them with ma- 
 ternal solicitude for their welfare. But 
 I am referring to a practice which, if 
 now obsolete, was once universal. The 
 firm of Probus was one of the last 
 which continued to spread this inesti- 
 mable shield over the young candidates 
 for commercial eminence ; a protection 
 which withheld the gay from criminal 
 dissipation, and preserved those of a 
 domestic turn from studies equally per- 
 nicious. I have heard that habits thus 
 formed amid the household lares of 
 these Thoroughgoods, Freemans, and 
 Tradeloves of olden times, proved per- 
 manent ; that forgeries and peculations 
 were less frequent; and the writings of 
 s 4
 
 392 
 
 infidels less popular. The greatest dan- 
 ger a young man incurred while pre- 
 paring for his establishment in life was, 
 to fall in love with his master's daugh- 
 ter ; and the fair belles dwelling ' East- 
 ward Ho/ having often a swain at their 
 elbow, were not compelled to fly about 
 the town to acquire one. But to resume 
 Erminia's history. 
 
 " It was not until the decline of life 
 that she was dismissed from this con- 
 tinuous call to exert discretion, tender- 
 ness, and fortitude. She entered on 
 her days of widowhood with impaired 
 health, and dissevered by death from 
 maternal comforts and cares. But she 
 was surrounded by numerous friends, 
 whom her kindness had obliged ; and 
 though the vivacity of youth had been 
 chilled as its roses faded, she preserved a 
 serene cheerfulness not less exhilarating. 
 Still attentive to Scriptural models, she,
 
 393 
 
 like the venerable Anna, frequented 
 the temple; and, like Dorcas, made 
 clothing for the poor; but without 
 neglecting the claims of society, or the 
 pretensions of merit. In her youth she 
 had been remarkable for a joyous relish 
 of amusement, and for the studious 
 elegance of her attire ; but as Probus 
 had no leisure for public diversions, and 
 little regarded his wife's dress, she 
 endeavoured to change his taste ; but, 
 after a few struggles, conformed to his 
 peculiarities, congratulating herself 
 that she wak not, like many wives, 
 compelled to make more essential sa- 
 crifices than that of a play or a ball, a 
 plumed tiara or an embroidered train. 
 She had found opportunities for exer- 
 cising her taste and cheering her spirits, 
 in arranging the wardrobe and directing 
 the sports of her children ; and when 
 the death of all whom she best loved 
 s 5
 
 394 
 
 allowed her leisure and liberty, she 
 either thought herself too old to grow 
 gay and fine, or had the delicacy to 
 persevere in the habits of her wedded 
 life, lest she should cast an implied 
 reflection on the memory of him whom 
 she so truly honoured. But, though 
 decorously abstemious, she is never 
 morosely prohibitory. Her opinions 
 are so liberal, and at the same time 
 so correct, that her young acquaintance 
 apply to her as a casuist to draw the 
 line of distinction between Lady 
 Grace's sobriety and Lady Townly's 
 ' dash into the stream of pleasure/ 
 They also select her to determine cases 
 of delicacy and points of moral eti- 
 quette. Long experience, superior 
 penetration, kindness of disposition, 
 and singleness of heart, give authority 
 to my friend's decisions, which, though 
 ever guided by the rules of abstaining
 
 395 
 
 from all evil, and constant self-commu- 
 nion, are carefully modified by peculiar 
 circumstances as well as by attention 
 to the character and situation of her 
 clients ; and she smilingly observes, 
 that were the decrees of her court of 
 equity collected, they would be found to 
 include too many apparent contrarieties 
 to command general deference. Thus, 
 Miss Tiffany was dissuaded from going 
 to Almack's ball, while Erminia exerted 
 herself to procure a ticket for Hebe 
 Homebred ; not from partiality, though 
 Hebe certainly is the pleasantest girl ; 
 but because her spirits had been de- 
 pressed by a beloved brother's depar- 
 ture for India, and Mrs. Tiffany's ill 
 state of health made it unkind in her 
 daughter to be absent from her one 
 evening. For similar reasons, she au- 
 thorised our young friend to witness a 
 cliefd 9 ceuvre of the histrionic art in Miss 
 s 6
 
 396 
 
 O'Neill's delineation of Juliet, as she had 
 an opportunity of going with a matronly 
 party ; but interdicted another from 
 that indulgence, with Captain Sparkish 
 at her elbow, lest she should fancy him 
 another impersoniflcation of Romeo. 
 But in this latter instance, her inclin- 
 ation to deprive restraint of all aspect 
 of severity induced her to invite the 
 half-ensnared maid on that evening to 
 one of her own select parties, where, 
 by a judicious direction of the convers- 
 ation, romantic love was proved to have 
 so much more of dramatic effect than 
 of domestic expediency in its com- 
 position, that the young lady, who had 
 been bred up to the comforts of an 
 equipage and a suitable establishment, 
 relinquished the idea of living upon 
 bread-pudding and potatoes in country 
 quarters with the man she loved. She 
 soon afterwards actually found out that
 
 397 
 
 this man was not Captain Sparkish, but 
 a gentleman who made his approaches 
 in form, supported with parental ap- 
 probation on the one hand, and recom- 
 mended by a settlement on the other. 
 I have also heard that in the other 
 playgoing case the theatre acted as a 
 school of improvement, and communi- 
 cated to the fair auditor's heart a touch 
 of the etherial fire, which, though often 
 ' a light that leads astray,' may pre- 
 pare the mind for that which is really 
 heaven-born, and determined her to 
 prefer a man of real merit, for whom 
 she felt a preference, to a wealthy rival 
 whose unamiable manners she once re- 
 solved to tolerate. 
 
 " During that period of Erminia's life 
 when health, strength, and an abund- 
 ance of animal spirits prompted acti- 
 vity, I cannot learn that she acquired 
 celebrity by schemes for general im-
 
 398 
 
 provement, or pushed any of her virtues 
 into publicity ; and now, though her 
 usefulness to her fellow-creatures is only 
 limited by her ability of serving them, 
 she certainly is not one of those noto- 
 riously benevolent ladies whom pro- 
 jectors lay under contribution. She has 
 a pertinacious habit of seeing with her 
 own eyes ; and as she shudders not at 
 coming into immediate contact with 
 distress, she, as her own almoner, de- 
 rives a double blessing from the lessons 
 which real affliction and extreme po- 
 verty read to those who personally ad- 
 minister to their wants by retrenching 
 their own superfluities. Thus Erminia 
 is rather quietly employed, than offi- 
 ciously busied in serving her fellow- 
 creatures ; and with respect to her dis- 
 tribution of time, as it regards herself, 
 even indisposition is with her no apo- 
 logy for yielding to ennui : that is a
 
 399 
 
 disease which she never can know, un- 
 less mental weakness be added to bo- 
 dily imbecility. 
 
 " Having spoken of Erminia's select 
 parties, I must dilate a little on them ; 
 not only because they are the me- 
 dium through which her benevolence 
 most powerfully operates in her own 
 line of society, but also because they 
 are really very pleasant amusements. 
 The presiding intelligence assumes no 
 state, requires no tribute, imposes no 
 restrictions, but such as every one must 
 voluntarily approve on pain of forfeit- 
 ing their own pretensions to good man- 
 ners. Opinions not inimical to delicacy 
 and to truth, if advanced with pro- 
 priety and supported with sense and 
 temper, have here fair play ; and she is 
 so ready to acknowledge the triumph of 
 an opponent, that sometimes she scarce 
 allows sufficient weight to her own ar-
 
 400 
 
 guments. Instead of being ready to 
 complain that our hostess devours all 
 the intellectual regale herself, we are 
 rather anxious to make her talk ; for 
 she has not only mixed in the world, 
 but observed it; and is not merely a 
 chronicler of past events, but an anno- 
 tator upon them. In exercising that 
 office, she will delicately continue to 
 ask us for an elucidation of some topic, 
 or request that we will kindly correct 
 her in a date, by way of making us 
 co-partners in the information which 
 she bestows. By acknowledging men- 
 tal decay, by speaking of herself as of 
 one who has outlived her compatriots, 
 whose interest in things present is 
 subordinate to another interest, who 
 contemplates future years as not affect- 
 ing herself but her fellow-creatures, she 
 so nicely blends the infirmities of hu- 
 manity with the irradiations of a supe-
 
 401 
 
 rior being, that I have seen the girls 
 gradually drawn from the whispering 
 corner, and foregoing the discussion of 
 beaux and bonnets, to listen to her ho- 
 nied accents; and have known sages 
 (unmarried ones I admit, and my 
 friend has an ample dower) allude to 
 Plato's Lyceum on the banks of Ilyssus, 
 1 where the youth of Athens listened to 
 the voice of truth, and the wild tumult 
 of the passions yielded to the soft per- 
 suasion of wisdom and virtue.' I once 
 met a dandy at Erminia's party ; but he 
 looked very miserable, having no ad- 
 mirers ; and she, like every one else, 
 was forced to give up the unfortunate 
 anomaly as a creature who piques him- 
 self in unimprovable impenetrability. 
 
 " It is not at these social parties that 
 my friend puts on what she calls her 
 Chancellor's wig and long robes. She 
 is too well bred to talk at any one who
 
 402 
 
 is present, and too candid to cut up 
 the absent. Her conversation in ge- 
 neral is either literary, or of that ani- 
 mated reminiscence to which I have 
 already adverted. She loves to trace 
 the wise and benign influence of Pro- 
 vidence through a series of past events, 
 to vindicate the ways of God to man, 
 and to allay the agitation of those 
 who, either from not having lived so 
 long or to so good a purpose, are 
 always either shocked, terrified, be- 
 wildered, or enraptured with passing 
 events, which appear to them like a 
 magic lantern that shows off oddly 
 grouped but alarming extravagancies. 
 Erminia, always placid, wears what 
 she calls the sober livery of age, and 
 views the passing scene with an ob- 
 servant but serene eye. Her affec- 
 tions have still all the warmth of youth; 
 and as this subjugation of her passions
 
 403 
 
 cannot proceed from apathy, it must 
 be traced to a higher cause. To be 
 conscious that you have had enough 
 of life's banquet, without feeling sur- 
 feited with the provision, displeased 
 with the provider, or jealous of coming 
 guests, indicates an acquired relish for 
 the food of angels. To partake of the 
 enjoyments of youth with merely reper- 
 cussive emotion, to pass over privation 
 in silence, to endure lassitude with 
 meekness, and pain with fortitude ; to 
 look back on the cares and sorrows of 
 a long life with thankfulness, not only 
 because they have been endured and 
 surmounted, but also because they have 
 been beneficial to the moral character ; 
 to be superior to envy, not so much 
 from a propensity to undervalue the 
 good things of this life, as from resign- 
 ation to the will of the donor and 
 from general benevolence to those who
 
 404 
 
 enjoy them, argues a strength of mind 
 and command of the passions sufficient 
 to have conquered armies and to have 
 legislated for nations : at least, quali- 
 ties like these in a masculine frame, 
 stimulated by ambition, might have 
 produced those results. Combined 
 with female softness, and circumscribed 
 within the limit of private duty which 
 has been wisely assigned to women, 
 they have conducted Erminia with 
 purity and propriety through the diffi- 
 culties of domestic trial to a calm and 
 respectable old age, which she welcomes 
 as a friend, and hails as the harbinger 
 of another visitant for whom she sedu- 
 lously prepares, and therefore expects 
 without dread. Erminia is as inti- 
 mately acquainted with the King of 
 Terrors as one in the body can be. 
 Her physicians have disclosed to her 
 the existence of an incipient disease,
 
 405 
 
 which at some time or other must, and 
 probably speedily and suddenly will, 
 remove her from all terrestrial duties. 
 She lives, therefore, as if sitting under 
 the sword of Damocles, or as one con- 
 victed awaiting a suspended punish- 
 ment, but with full confidence in the 
 wisdom and goodness of his judge. 
 But her manner more resembles an 
 exile looking for a summons home ; and 
 her gratitude at being spared any ex- 
 cruciating pangs reconciles her to 
 submit, with uncomplaining patience, 
 to the sacrifices which lassitude im- 
 poses. She often alludes to her own 
 situation while conversing with those 
 whom she best regards ; and a favourite 
 topic is the unpretending heroism of 
 the old Scotch woman, to whom her 
 numerous descendants, when annually 
 assembled to celebrate her birth-day, 
 regularly drank a happy departure, and
 
 406 
 
 who, pledging the toast, thanked them 
 for this dutiful mark of their affection, 
 adding, that she had lived decently and 
 hoped to die so. * She relates this in- 
 cident with unaffected cheerfulness ; 
 and then, immediately referring to our 
 concerns, tries to divert our attention 
 from the inroads which time and 
 disease are making in her interesting 
 figure. And so radiant is the ethereal 
 light of her unclouded faculties, so 
 genial the warmth of benevolence re- 
 flected from her unchilled heart, that, 
 absorbed by the enjoyment of her 
 society, it is not till we have left her 
 that we recollect, with the selfish pang 
 of deep regret, that her face is paler, 
 her voice more tremulous, her steps 
 feebler : 
 
 But she must die ; 
 
 She must ; the saints must have her.' 
 
 * The public are indebted to Mrs. Grant for this 
 anecdote.
 
 407 
 
 " ' The general fav'rite, as the general friend : 
 Such age there is, and who could wish its end ?' 
 
 " With all these excellencies which 
 consecrate Erminia's character, there is 
 a touch of humanity, a shade, a defect — 
 it can hardly be called a fault, because 
 it makes us more dearly love her. As 
 the warmth of her affections, not the 
 vehemence of her passions, made her 
 active when young ; so her strong at- 
 tachments, now that she is old, make 
 her, not indeed opinionative, but par- 
 tial. She loves her living friends, and 
 cherishes the memory of those on whom 
 death has set his seal with a devoted- 
 ness which induces her, perhaps too 
 often, to refer to their conduct as a 
 model, and to their opinions as a text- 
 book. This often causes a smile among 
 her guests, while her enemies (for even 
 Erminia has enemies) alternately make 
 it a subject of ridicule, or a topic of ac-
 
 408 
 
 cusation ; yet, allowing a little for the 
 tautology and garrulity of age, a can- 
 did listener will always find these ebul- 
 litions of true regard worth remem- 
 brance; for Erminia has conversed with 
 the learned and the eminent, and she 
 was beloved by the wise and good of 
 past times, of whom she is a faithful 
 describer. 
 
 " Her present popularity is creditable 
 to human nature. Her doors are not 
 besieged by legacy hunters, for it is 
 known that she considers the claims of 
 blood to be sacred. She has no para- 
 sites, because, as she never aims at 
 higher praise than that of being a good 
 woman, the privilege of being ac- 
 quainted with her communicates satis- 
 faction rather than eclat. The young 
 prefer her society from a conviction 
 that they shall find the wisdom of old 
 age shaded off with sprightly sallies. The
 
 409 
 
 heavy-laden spirit confides its cares to 
 her bosom, assured of finding relief in 
 her sympathy, probably assistance from 
 her counsel ; and certain that the in- 
 trusted record of its woes will not be 
 converted into entertainment for the 
 next group of idle callers. The divine 
 who seeks her converse is pleased to 
 find a devout woman rather than a pet- 
 ticoated polemic ; one who exemplifies 
 Christian graces instead of criticisinglast 
 Sunday's sermon. The man of science 
 visits Erminia with the animating hope 
 of communicating his researches to an 
 enlightened sister, instead of encoun- 
 tering a smattering philosophist : and 
 the man of the world, if he be also a 
 man of decorum, ventures into her par- 
 ties without the presentiment that he 
 shall undergo a severe penance. He 
 expects to hear some literary subject 
 ingeniously treated, or to see some 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 410 
 
 light thrown on literary topics. He 
 knows that at these parties he may get 
 out of the circle of common-place ; and 
 though there may be snug card-tables 
 for dowagers and big-wigs, there will 
 be little danger of his being wedged 
 amongst them, as the pretty girls by 
 choice crowd round his hostess, to 
 whom good-breeding demands his prin- 
 cipal devoirs ; and never are the laws 
 of good-breeding better observed than 
 when they are freely and voluntarily 
 administered. 
 
 " Thus, having proved the possibility 
 that an old woman may be not only a re- 
 spectable and contented, but also a be- 
 loved and amiable creature, I ask leave 
 to address a few explanatory entreaties 
 to those who are still young, advising 
 them to begin to qualify for becoming 
 like Erminia. Formidable as age is to 
 youth and beauty, its grasp can be
 
 411 
 
 avoided only by an embrace still more 
 benumbing. It is impossible to be- 
 come interesting, when we are old, with 
 the same stock of materials as will 
 equip youth for its amatory conquests. 
 The garniture of gawds and cosmetics, 
 of frivolous wit and showy accomplish- 
 ments, will prove incumbrances to their 
 possessor, when they arrive on the con- 
 fines of a country where there is but 
 one object of adoration, and where 
 truth is the only language. 
 
 " The dissipated, the vain, the capri- 
 cious, and the ill-humoured, would do 
 well to consider, that, as man is the 
 child of habit, they are chargeable with 
 egregious folly if they employ the most 
 improvable part of their time in acquir- 
 ing what will be worse than useless 
 during the greater part of their exist- 
 ence. Ere long (unless they have 
 wealth to bribe mercenary servility) 
 t 2
 
 412 
 
 they must depend for every social 
 solace on the remunerating tribute of 
 affectionate gratitude, or on the humi- 
 liating offices of pity. The years of 
 secluded loneliness will be insupport- 
 ably tedious, if we enter upon them 
 with a vacant mind; and irritability 
 will make the untented wounds of pain 
 yet more excruciating. A time must 
 arrive, when the bands that unite us 
 to this world will be so relaxed that 
 there will be nothing left in it that we 
 can enjoy. How then is that divine 
 flame of charity to be kept alive, which, 
 we are assured, must be our guide to 
 immortality, if in our best years we do 
 not strenuously cherish a love for all 
 our fellow- creatures, and a zeal for 
 their welfare, sufficient to resist the 
 frosts of age. It is not necessary that 
 we should be philosophers or literati to 
 render us tolerable to ourselves and to
 
 413 
 
 others, when our bodily functions 
 decay, and when pleasures fail to give 
 delight ; but it will be pleasant to have 
 mental resources, and we must cultivate 
 benevolent affections. These are ac- 
 quired and improved during an un- 
 ostentatious discharge of our domestic 
 duties. To act well our part in youth, 
 is, therefore, the best preparative for 
 age ; as a serene and pious old age is 
 not only a preparative for a blissful 
 immortality, but the dawn of that 
 brighter day." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 ERRATUM. 
 
 Page 61. line 11. for cap read cape, 
 
 Printed by A. & R. SpottiBeoode, 
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