-X I B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 Sa233m 
 
 V.I
 
 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.
 
 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE PAPERS 
 
 A MAN OF THE WORLD. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF GILBERT EARLE. 
 
 I waive the quantum o' the sin, 
 The hazard cf coucealine, — 
 
 But, och ! it hardens a' within, 
 And petrifies the feeliug ! 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON": 
 
 PRINTED FOR CHARLES KNIGHT, 
 PALL-MALL EAST. 
 
 1826.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mrblountsmssbein01stle
 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The papers, from which the following 
 pages are selections, were put into my hands, 
 not long ago, with a request that I would 
 arrange and fit them for publication. They 
 consisted, as at present, of a considerable 
 body of letters and journals. I believe that 
 it was originally wished that I should found 
 on these a narrative, or Memoir, of Mr. 
 Blount's Life. But I represented that the 
 materials themselves would answer the pur- 
 pose far better than any work which could 
 be composed from them; — as they contain 
 
 vol. I. B 

 
 2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 a delineation of his character and habits of 
 thought, drawn by his own hand — uncon- 
 sciously, indeed — but, for that very reason, 
 with greater truth. 
 
 I have, therefore, confined myself to the 
 task of selection, here and there append- 
 ing a note, where I thought explanation 
 needed. I am also answerable for the mot- 
 toes prefixed to each extract. 
 
 Mr. Blount seems to have kept up a sin- 
 gularly close and constant correspondence 
 with the friend to whom the letters are ad- 
 dressed. His intimacy with this gentleman 
 appears to have been of a nature peculiarly 
 confidential and unreserved. Indeed, it is 
 often difficult to trace any difference be- 
 tween the tone of the letters and of the 
 private journals. These journals, as I 
 gather, took their origin from being kept, 
 at first, while Mr. Blount was on the Con-
 
 IiNTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 tinent ; and, afterwards, were continued from 
 the force of habit. Some parts of them, 
 however, have not the same appearance of 
 being written solely for his own eye. In 
 places, they would almost seem to have been 
 the first sketch towards publication; a story 
 or two, here and there, being more at length 
 than is usual for a merely private purpose. 
 It is certain, however, that even if my sup- 
 position be correct, the sketch is merely the 
 first rough one ; for no where do I trace any 
 marks of revision, or any attempts at ela- 
 borate writing. 
 
 The reader will find the following sketches 
 exactly in the state in which they are in Mr. 
 Blount's MSS., with the exception only of 
 some trifling verbal corrections : but he is 
 not to suppose that all the letters and jour- 
 nals are here published. I have selected 
 only such as I thought illustrative of the 
 
 13 2
 
 4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 writer, and of human character and passion 
 more generally. There is little, however, 
 in the portion (and it is a large one) written 
 on the Continent, in the nature of what is 
 usually understood by the term " Travels ;" 
 — no mere description of places — no cata- 
 logue of churches, antiquities, and objects 
 of art. The original deals but very sparing- 
 ly m these matters ; my selections, with the 
 exception of the few pages relating to the 
 Rhine, not at r.U. I have chosen such 
 scenes and adventures as bore upon the 
 course of the writer's fortunes, from which, 
 as it appears to me, a moral lesson of some 
 usefulness may be drawn. I shall now 
 leave him to speak for himself.
 
 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 EXTRACT I. 
 
 u Beauty clear and fair, 
 
 Where the air 
 Rather like a perfume dwells ; 
 
 Where the violet and the rose 
 
 Their blue veins in blush diselose, 
 And come to honour nothing else. 
 
 Where, to live near 
 
 And planted there, 
 
 Is to live, and still live new n 
 
 Beaumoxt & Fletcher. 
 
 Tours, September, 1788. 
 What do I here so long? say you ?— 
 What do I here, for six weeks, at a coun- 
 try town in France, where I ought only to 
 have changed horses, or at most, to have slept
 
 6 
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 
 
 a night, on my road to Paris ? — Do you, dear 
 Frewin, ask me such questions as these, at 
 this time of day? — I thought you might have 
 answered yourself. Why, what could keep 
 me at such a place beyond four-and-twenty 
 hours, but — a woman? — Ay, and such a 
 woman ! — But I will be the ram in Antoine 
 Hamilton's Fairy-Tale; and begin at the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 That which caused me to stay here four- 
 and-twentv hours at all, was, not a woman, 
 but a broken axletree. Blessings on Dessin's 
 rotten carriages ! — If mine had stood firm, 
 I should have rolled on the next morning 
 after my arrival, and never have dreamt of 
 what I had missed. But, luckily, I was de- 
 tained here sorely against my will for a day ; 
 and have now been detained here, very much 
 according to my will, for forty. 
 
 It is a beautiful country this, hereabouts : 
 The river so fine, and its banks so rich, and
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 7 
 
 yet so romantic — and then the (not harvest, 
 but) rendu ligemoou, smiling down upon both 
 so luxuriantly ! Oh ! those moonlight walks 
 by the banks of the Loire ! A year's delay 
 were well repaid by one of them ! But you 
 are still in the dark as to what I am flying 
 into these raptures about : I promised to 
 begin at the beginning, and I will. 
 
 I broke down just without the gates of 
 the town, on a Saturday night ; and the 
 next day, being detained, I went to church. 
 The old proverb was verified on the occasion— 
 
 " Near the church — you know the rest — " 
 
 I confess mv thoughts were wholly abstract- 
 ed from devout subjects, by my eyes chan- 
 cing to light upon one of the loveliest crea- 
 tures which ever crossed their vision, seated 
 at a very short distance from me. She 
 seemed to be about eighteen, and her beau- 
 ty was equally great and peculiar. She had 
 more even than the usual darkness of com-
 
 8 
 
 plexion of a French woman; her hair was 
 like jet, her eyebrows and eyelashes were, if 
 possible, darker still; and the latter, from 
 their extreme length, appeared]tobeeven more 
 so than they really were. But her eyes were 
 blue— deep, rich, transparent blue; which, 
 with such dark accompaniments, gave an air, 
 certainly of peculiarity, but of most lovely 
 peculiarity, to the expression of her radiant 
 and speaking countenance. Her form was 
 scarcely yet arrived at its complete fulness, 
 but its outline was perfect; and a few 
 months, as it seemed to me, would finish 
 the filling up. Altogether, I had scarcely 
 ever seen a more lovely, certainly, never 
 a more striking, person. But by this ex- 
 pression you must not conceive there was 
 any ostentation , if I may be permitted the 
 word, of manner or bearing. On the con- 
 trary, the most exquisite delicacy was spread,
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. U 
 
 like a veil, over this radiant beauty, soften- 
 ing, and yet enhancing, its perfection. You 
 know I am somewhat fastidious, and am not 
 ready to think every pretty face a beautiful 
 one ; but this one was so, and I studied it in 
 every light and posture ; for I scarcely re- 
 moved my eyes from it, during the whole 
 service. 
 
 My first endeavour was to discover who 
 this lady of the Loire might be ; in this 
 there was not much difficulty. She was, it 
 seemed, an Italian. Her mother had been 
 French, and came from Tours. This mo- 
 ther she had lost some six years ago, and had 
 then come to reside, for education, with her 
 maternal aunt. Her education was now com- 
 plete; and her father was very shortly ex- 
 pected to arrive, to take her back to Italy 
 with him. 
 
 Such was the substance of the information,
 
 10 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 which, with the assistance of my faithful Eus- 
 tache, I gleaned concerning her. My next 
 endeavour was of higher flight ; it was to be- 
 come known to her. Thus I set about it. 
 Her uncle's house is at the outskirts of the 
 town, with a garden stretching down to the 
 river, leaving only just space for a low wall, 
 and a narrow path to intervene between them. 
 Hither, in the evening, I repaired ; but find- 
 ing that I could not well pace up and down 
 there, without attracting notice, I procured a 
 small skiff, and pulling myself into a spot in 
 a convenient position, with respect to the gar- 
 den, affected to begin to fish. I cannot say 
 that I have any direful accident to relate of 
 her falling into the water, and of my pulling 
 her out again, as I know I am bound in ro- 
 mance to have. If the truth is to be spoken, 
 I can boast of nothing of this kind ; on the 
 contrary, only of passing several wearisome
 
 mr. blount's mss. 11 
 
 hours, with a fishing rod between my legs, 
 and without the least glimpse of my fair one 
 to repay me for my patience and anxiety. At 
 length, just as the twilight was deepening, 
 and I was beginning, in despair, to row home- 
 ward, I saw a white gown, in distinct relief, 
 against the dark trees, approaching down the 
 lawn, and fluttering in the evening wind. 
 
 It is a pretty sight this — eh, Frewin ? The 
 rustle and waving of the drapery of the dear 
 sex — Heaven bless it ! — have always in them 
 something strangely moving to my sensa- 
 tions ; but when, as in this case, it enwraps 
 a form which might be a Greek statue, only 
 for its living warmth and motion ; and when 
 the eyes have been, for hours, aching for the 
 appearance of the individual wearer, then in- 
 deed there is a delight in such appearances, 
 which 1 shall not punish you by descant- 
 ing upon at length.
 
 12 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 She approached, and seated herself upon a 
 stone bench, so placed as to command a view 
 of the reach of the river. It was not yet so 
 dark but that I could, being, as I was, only 
 a few yards distant, see her distinctly and 
 minutely. She was looking up at the fine 
 summer-evening sky, as if thinking of her 
 own sunny land and azure heavens. At 
 least, I chose to bestow upon her the most 
 becoming train of thought ; for I was in a 
 romantic mood, and truly I had something 
 to excite it. There she sat, with her fine 
 hair gently moved by the wind, and her beau- 
 tiful face slightly up-turned, affording me a 
 perfect view of its sweet, yet powerful ex- 
 pression. Her form, exquisite in motion, 
 exquisite in repose., was reclining against the 
 back "of the seat, giving to view the volup- 
 tuous sweep of its fine and delicate outline. 
 Her small white fingers supported her cheek,
 
 MR. BLOI'XT'S MS?. 13 
 
 as die looked upon the twilight scene with 
 those deep blue eyes, which had already *truek 
 me as affording so singular and so charming 
 a completion to her southern style of beautv. 
 The scene, too, upon which she gazed, was 
 in good unison with such a gazer. The river, 
 broad, full, and swift, glided past her with a 
 deep, gurgling sound, expressive, I think, be- 
 yond all others in Nature, of serenity, seclu- 
 sion, and repose. The dark towers of the 
 cathedral of the town, rose against the near 
 horizon on one side; while, on the other, the 
 prospect extended up the river along a valley 
 of exquisite richness, glowing with vineyards 
 just ready for the xendanges. Had not I 
 some reason to be a little more exalted than 
 
 QSUff! ? 
 
 I was just thinking how I should attract 
 her attention without scaring her, when I 
 perceived a gentleman and a lady advancing
 
 14 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 towards her. I recognized them as the uncle 
 and aunt ; and wished them where uncles 
 and aunts usually are wished on such oc- 
 casions — at the devil. I was afterwards, 
 however, not sorry they came ; for they 
 had not been there many minutes, before, 
 I conclude at their entreaty, Antonia (for 
 that is her very Italian Christian name) 
 began to sing. I believe music is a natural 
 Italian instinct. It is artificial in France — 
 it is only in its infancy in England — but of 
 an Italian it is the vernacular speech. An- 
 tonia sang exquisitely ; her voice was fuller 
 and richer in its sweetness, than I should 
 have anticipated from her appearance ; her 
 singing was wholly without pretension, and 
 with scarcely any ornament ; but, on the 
 contrary, with simple execution of a very 
 charming melody, and with remarkable dis- 
 tinctness of enunciation of the words. This
 
 MR. r.LOl ntV MSS. 15 
 
 last quality it was, which enabled me to 
 follow the poetry ; for she sang in Italian, 
 and if it had been with the usual cadenzas and 
 flourishes that we hear at the Opera House, 
 my limited proficiency in the language would 
 not have allowed me to understand more of 
 her song than I usually do of Madame 
 Mara's — about half-a-dozen words, namely ; 
 such as " pene, bene, crudelta, felicita," and 
 such stock rhymes of the libretti. What I 
 now heard, in a scene, and from a singer, 
 so very different, was a sort of rondeau, of 
 which the point consisted in the repetition 
 of the answer " Non so P" to a succession 
 of variously combined questions concerning 
 love ; thereby importing that the maker of 
 the said answer, as yet, knew nothing of that 
 Amore, who, as one of the rhymes informed 
 me, was Dominatore of half the world be- 
 side. As at the end of each stanza, after
 
 16 MR. BLOUNT'S mss. 
 
 a short pause to give all the questions full 
 effect, Antonia, softly, sweetly, and dis- 
 tinctly, added the emphatic "Non so!", I 
 could not but think, as well as hope, that 
 what she said was not merely general poe- 
 tical fiction, but true in her own individual 
 case. " She has only left the convent a few 
 weeks," said I to myself, recalling the in- 
 formation I had gained concerning her, " so 
 there is some chance that the answer may 
 be applicable to herself. I should like to 
 be her instructor in the sweet knowledge of 
 which she professes her ignorance !" 
 
 As the last words of the last stanza died 
 away upon her lips, I made some exclama- 
 tion of admiration and delight, which at- 
 tracted the notice of the trio. As I had no 
 particular wish to become known to the 
 seniors of the party, I shoved off my boat,
 
 MR. BLOUNT^ MSS. 17 
 
 which had lain close under the bank, and 
 pulled down the river as fast as I could go. 
 
 So ended my first attempt at an interview. 
 You will say, I did not achieve much by it ; 
 but it proved a good foundation-stone, as 
 you shall hear in my next. For the present, 
 I have filled my gigantic sheet, [can you 
 read it thus crossed ?] and, moreover, time, 
 tide, and the post, wait for no man ; and the 
 last of these impatient persons, or things, 
 (which you will) is about to set off. I will 
 write again in the course of the week ; 
 meanwhile believe me ever and ever your's, 
 
 Philip Blount. 
 
 You may continue to direct hither, till 
 further orders. 
 
 vol. I.
 
 18 mr. blount's m,ss. 
 
 EXTRACT II. 
 
 '-'• This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
 May prove a beauteous flow'r, when next we meet." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 [The following is from Mr. Blount's Note-book ; 
 under a date about a fortnight previous to that 
 of the foregoing letter.] 
 
 Tours, August, 1788. 
 
 " Qualis nox ilia ! Dii, Deaeque !" — What a 
 night has this been ! Truly may I place a 
 double white-stone at its date— for such pe- 
 riods cannot very frequently occur !* Come, 
 
 * Throughout these diaries, the days which Mr. B. 
 chooses to consider as having been fortunate or happy, 
 are distinguished by a red-ink mark. At the above date, 
 and at one or two others, this mark is crossed, by which 
 it would seem a double degree of good fortune was im- 
 plied.
 
 mr. blount's mss. 19 
 
 my trusty note-book, let me set down in you 
 the sensations of the last few hours, while 
 they are yet glowing in instant memory. — 
 It will be the best way to make my spirits 
 subside down to sleeping-point ; they are 
 incalculable degrees above that Zero now. 
 
 Oh ! the moonlight banks of the Loire ! 
 shall I ever forget you ? No ! — whatever 
 scenes I may gaze on, whatever sensations 
 I may feel, the soft dream of young Pas- 
 sion, which your calm solitudes have wit- 
 nessed this night, will, with yourselves, be 
 for ever graven on my heart's memory ! 
 
 And yet, after all, there are many men, 
 nay there are many women too, who would 
 look with considerable disdain on what has 
 put me into all this rapture; and regard 
 me, to use their own language, as being very 
 soft, for putting to no further effect the 
 scene in which I have just been an actor. 
 c2
 
 20 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 And do I regret that I did not take, or 
 try to take, the advantages, which perhaps 
 I might have done, of Antonia's gushing 
 fondness, and utter self-abandonment ? — No, 
 by Heaven ! — The full confession, and de- 
 licious history of her love for me, from its 
 first doubtful dawn, to its present full ripe- 
 ness, were not more grateful to my soul, 
 as she uttered them, in her own sweet voice, 
 upon my bosom, than is now the reflection 
 that I did not break in upon such a train 
 of feeling in her heart, by any thing grosser 
 than her own fond and pure affection. The 
 first emotions of love in the breast of a 
 young and beautiful woman, are of an ex- 
 alted and holy nature. And happy am I 
 that I did not mar these attributes, by 
 showing to what different issues they may 
 be turned ; how the highest and strongest 
 feelings which Nature has implanted within
 
 MR. blount's mss. 21 
 
 us, can be made subservient to the cause of 
 sinful and inferior passion. I did not break 
 in upon this blissful dream ; I did not 
 waken the fair creature, who was exposing to 
 me the state of her young heart, beating and 
 burning in all the fondness and confidence 
 of a first affection, to a sense of the gross 
 and degrading reality of man's love. What 
 is man's love as compared to woman's ? 
 Nothing — worse than nothing. In its weak- 
 ness and in its strength — in the fever of 
 its hottest moments, and in the agueish 
 coldness of its speedy decline — in fervour, 
 in fondness, in endurance, in steady con- 
 stancy — in each, in all, in every thing, man's 
 love, in comparison with that of woman, is 
 poor, weak, cold, paltry, yielding, change- 
 ful, evanescent, to the last and most intense 
 degree ! 
 
 And never did I feel the truth of this
 
 22 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 
 
 more than as Antonia, to-night, revealed to 
 me, in all the minuteness of detail, which is 
 so delicious to lovers, the progress of her 
 attachment towards me, and how each cir- 
 cumstance of our intercourse had affected it. 
 The mixture (which in any thing but the 
 manifestation of a heart, young, and fresh, 
 and singularly unpractised, would be incon- 
 gruous) of the most perfect frankness with 
 delicacy equally perfect — of conscious fer- 
 vency of feeling, and unconscious warmth of 
 expression; or, at least, unconsciousness of 
 the deductions to which they would lead : 
 — the whole picture, in short, which she 
 presented of the first impression of love 
 upon the heart of a sensitive and ardent 
 woman, — not only confirmed my previous 
 belief, but encreased its extent exceedingly, 
 of how different this same passion is in its 
 operation on the two sexes.
 
 MR. blount's mss. 23 
 
 Of myself, in the present instance, I do 
 not speak. It is not now that I am to expe- 
 rience, for the first time, what love is ; my 
 feelings must necessarily be widely different 
 from her's. I was first struck by her beautv, 
 then bv her delicacy of heart, and general 
 accomplishments of understanding. Then I 
 had the desire of success, the wish to excite 
 her love ; and, as I advanced, I felt the con- 
 scious satisfaction of success, in watching the 
 progress and developement of her affection. 
 Xor could I be in close and frequent inter- 
 course with a person so attractive, and fasci- 
 nating, without finding every day the love I 
 feigned, to be less — and the love I felt, to be 
 more. All these sensations added together, 
 may amount to what most persons would 
 class under the generic appellation " Love." 
 But how different is this, even were it 
 twenty times more than it is, from what she
 
 24 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 feels ! — And what do I intend to do with this 
 love, now that I have excited it ? That is 
 a question of which I have delayed the 
 
 answer so long, that 1 cannot now stop to 
 
 answer it. 
 
 And yet, when I reflect that it is only a 
 month since we first met, the whole business 
 seems almost as a dream ! What a chance it 
 was that I saw her at all ! — what a chance 
 that I stopped at Tours more than a night ! 
 And am I glad or sorry that it did so 
 chance ? Faith, I am not prepared to answer 
 that question either. I certainly had no in- 
 tention that matters should have gone to 
 such a serious extent when I began ; but, 
 one step led on another, till — I will not think 
 what the next must be. 
 
 A month ! — it is a very short time for the 
 heart to have gone the whole round, from in- 
 difference and calmness to the highest pitch
 
 MR. blount's mss. 25 
 
 of passion. Plague take it ! why must I in- 
 trude upon her state of peacefulness, to lead 
 her upon that stormy sea, of which as yet she 
 knows not half the dangers ? The colour of 
 her existence has been changed, her whole 
 self has taken a new tone, in one short month ! 
 And yet, when I reflect how many hours we 
 have passed alone together during that month 
 — and what accessories of time and place have 
 attended those meetings, it is not a very short 
 time either. What phases of passion must 
 her heart have undergone, while that moon 
 has been completing her's ! And even I 
 have felt severe anxieties. My heart has be- 
 come far more interested in the matter than 
 I ever intended it should have done ; with 
 such a creature, I should have been a brute 
 if it had been otherwise. But this night has 
 paid me for all ! Is there any thing ? — there 
 is not any thing, which can be compared
 
 26 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 with the first thorough and complete avowal, 
 in zvords, of a woman's love for us!— And 
 then the recapitulation of all the fluctuations 
 of fear, and hope, and fondness, and pique, 
 and, at last, of full, flowing, fervent, un- 
 doubting love — what can equal this ? While 
 we listen to her dear voice, as it is breathed in 
 that soft delicate tone in which woman speaks 
 of love; while we press her closer to the 
 heart, as each expression of fondness rises 
 above the other ; while we recall our own 
 ideas of the probable effects of each circum- 
 stance of which she now reveals the real re- 
 sults — and as we, in our turn, contrast and 
 compare these with each other ; while, above 
 all, every doubt which still might have re- 
 mained — all fear, of which some might perhaps 
 have lingered — are destroyed in the flood of 
 love and certainty ; — during such times as 
 these, we might, for the moment, fancy our-
 
 mr. blount's mss. 27 
 
 selves in a state of being more blissful than 
 this world is given to bestow. 
 
 " What am I to do with the love I have 
 thus excited?" This question recurs and 
 recurs again, with increasing importunity for 
 answer ? But it is late, and my head aches ; 
 I will go to bed — to sleep, if I can — and 
 postpone my answer till to-morrow.
 
 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 EXTRACT III. 
 
 " We part — and had we never met, 
 
 Happy had it been for thee : — 
 My love has been thy bane ; but yet 
 
 Oh! cease not to remember me !" Ano^. 
 
 [The following letter is not in immediate sue- 
 . . cession to that last given.] 
 
 Tours, October 1st, 1788. 
 
 My dear Frewin, — 
 After the receipt of this, direct to Paris. 
 I set off to-morrow morning. The game is 
 played out, and I must return to acting 
 with common sense, if I cannot feel with 
 it just yet, I experience, at this moment, 
 all the sensations of le lendemain, equally 
 prevalent in morals as in physics. To be 
 sure, it has been Champaigne, and of
 
 MR. blount's mss. 29 
 
 the first vintage, on which I have been ban- 
 queting; no wonder that I should have 
 exceeded over night, and experience all the 
 revulsion and depression of " the next daw" 
 Now am I in that mood that I could throw 
 myself upon yonder couch, and cry for an 
 hour or two, " with all the pleasure in life,* 1 
 as the Irishman says. Partly from spite, 
 partly from the sudden sinking of over- 
 wrought spirits, and partly from bona-jide sor- 
 row, — I could weep my heart out at my eyes, 
 and, I am sure, should feel my bosom lighten- 
 ed by the operation. But I won't. I have no- 
 body to blame but myself. It has all been 
 my own doing ; there "s no denying it. The 
 bad was certainly mv own doing ; and the 
 pride of my wicked self, will not let me cry 
 for that. The right determination to which 
 I came yesterday, was likewise my own 
 doing ; and what there is good in me will
 
 30 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 not allow me to weep for this part of the 
 matter : and yet, I question, whether I do 
 not lament this last, which is my resolution 
 to part from Antonia, far more than what 
 I have characterised as bad ; namely, my in- 
 tercourse with her for the last two months. 
 I have, indeed, been once or twice on the 
 point of breaking through it, and setting off 
 after her. " After her V you will say. — 
 Yes ! she is gone, gone back to Italy, with 
 her father ; and we have parted, in all likeli- 
 hood for ever ! 
 
 I believe I told you, when I first spoke 
 to you on this subject, that Antonia was 
 shortly to return to Italy, her father being 
 almost daily expected to arrive to take her 
 back. If he had come when he was first ex- 
 pected, namely, within a few days of my 
 arrival here, what a difference it would have 
 made in his daughter's fate! Alas, Frewin,
 
 mr. blount's mss. 31 
 
 what unthinking scoundrels we men are ** — 
 What lasting mischief do we cause from con- 
 nexions which we begin, without giving one 
 thought as to what they are to end in ! 
 But this does make me think, — " now that it 
 is too late," you will add ; and, alas ! truly. 
 
 What upon earth could possess me to 
 throw away my time here, devoting myself — 
 to what ? — Why, to making a most amiable, 
 beautiful, and interesting girl, unhappy. And 
 for what ? Why, for the sake of gratifying 
 my own infernal vanity in rendering a crea- 
 ture thus charming, attached to my own 
 sweet self. And what ultimate object did I 
 propose to myself ? Why, none ! I shunned 
 the question ; I drove it from me, as often as 
 it presented itself to my mind. What did 
 I intend to do ? Did I intend to marry ? — 
 or to do worse ? Faith, I intended nothing. 
 Marry I would not ; nor would I " do worse,"
 
 32 mil. blount's mss. 
 
 even supposing that I could, of which I am 
 by no means clear. I resolutely would look 
 upon nothing beyond the present moment. 
 I placed a curtain within six inches of my 
 mental eyes, and would rather have cut off 
 my hand, than have raised it to throw open 
 the view. Is not this a pretty compte rendu 
 of my actions and feelings for the last two 
 months of my life ? Is it not a statement so 
 clear, lucid, and satisfactory, as to reflect in- 
 finite honour upon the sense and meaning of 
 the person who is able to make it ? Truly, 
 I think so. It is exceedingly flattering to me 
 in every point of view; and leaves me, at 
 the end of the summer, with a very com- 
 fortable retrospect, of how profitably, for 
 myself and others, it has been spent. 
 
 Pshaw ! — it is enough to make one look 
 with contempt upon oneself, to consider how 
 blind we are when the least dazzling of pas*
 
 mr. blount's mss. 83 
 
 sion is effected upon our eyes ; and in how 
 vastly different a light we regard things, 
 when the scales fall from off them. I can 
 see the folly, to use no harsher term, of my 
 own conduct, now, as well as any indifferent 
 observer — nay, better, for I have a more inti- 
 mate knowledge of the facts. And yet it was 
 only yesterday that I had a most severe 
 struggle with myself, to prevent my putting 
 the climax to the injuries I have done this poor 
 girl, by urging her to become the partner of 
 my journey, instead of her father's. I had 
 not regained the clear use of my moral eye- 
 sight then, or I should not have paused for 
 a moment upon a proposition so fraught with 
 (for I must speak it out) dark guilt and 
 wickedness. 
 
 I am far, indeed, from feeling at all satis- 
 fied with myself for what I have done. I have 
 marred, irrevocably, the happy state of peace- 
 
 VOL. l. D
 
 34 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 fulness in which I found her ; I have but 
 
 hang it ! I will not go croaking on as to what 
 
 I have done : — what I am about to do is, to 
 
 set off for Paris to-morrow, where I hope 
 
 very speedily to hear from you. Meanwhile, 
 
 I will close my letter, for I can write on no 
 
 subject but one, and that I had rather let 
 
 alone for the present. 
 
 Your's ever, 
 
 P. B. 
 
 [The following passage in the Diary relates to 
 the same occurrence.] 
 
 Orleans, October 2, 1788. 
 What a contrast does this solitary, deso- 
 late evening present to those I have been 
 passing lately ! I wish I had not stopped, 
 but that I had continued travelling all night ; 
 for then, at any rate, the difference would not 
 have pressed so forcibly upon me. I never 
 found my inn at Tours solitary of an even-
 
 MR. blount's mss. 35 
 
 ing. The Loire, with its full stream and its 
 beautiful banks, was my evening abode, — and 
 Antonia, dear, dear, lost Antonia! my com- 
 panion. Yes ! she is, indeed, lost to me ! 
 It is a chance, beyond calculation, whether I 
 ever see her again ! And I have seen her so 
 constantly of late — she has been so exclu- 
 sively not only my object of interest, but my 
 companion, that the vacuum in my heart at 
 our separation is beyond description. It is 
 the most painful and desolating sensation in 
 the world. I have felt it before now, and 
 from the same cause, but never with the same 
 intensity. All the affections of my heart, all 
 the exertions of my mind, have been so 
 strongly and undividedly concentrated upon 
 this one individual, that the sudden cessation 
 of our intercourse is certainly one of the most 
 painful and sickening revulsions that I have 
 ever undergone. " The affections of my 
 d 2
 
 36 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 heart ?" And were they really so deeply im- 
 plicated in the matter ? — In good truth, I be- 
 lieve they were ; far more, undoubtedly, than 
 I meant they should have been, when I be- 
 gan. But I suppose the moth does not in- 
 tend to burn himself, when he flutters round 
 the flame. He had better not come there at 
 all, though, if he wishes to remain unsinged. 
 Yes ! my affections have indeed become more 
 enthralled than I had any fear of their be- 
 coming. I thought I had more command 
 over them ; I thought I had them fastened, 
 like a falcon by a string, and that I could 
 let them take short and gentle flights, and 
 recall them at will. But the cord, I suppose 
 from being a silken one, broke, and the ' tas- 
 sel-gentle' would not be ' lured back again.' 
 
 And yet I have permitted that we should 
 part ! I almost wonder at myself, at times, 
 for having had the resolution to do so. Nay,
 
 MR. blount's mss. 37 
 
 at this moment, if she were here before me, 
 I almost think I should sacrifice every con- 
 sideration — youth, liberty, all — and give her 
 heart and hand together, and at once. 'Tis 
 well then, perhaps, she is not here ; for if 
 I were to let my romance and my passion 
 run away with me in this way, I should, ten 
 to one, speedily and lastingly rue having so 
 far lapsed from my usual self-command in 
 these matters. I ought to have learned, and 
 earned it too, by this time ; and I thought 
 I had ; but I have been near smarting for 
 my presumption. No! no! I will not be 
 cast into Benedick yet awhile ! 
 
 For the rest, what if I had persuaded her 
 to accompany me on this journey, without 
 being my wife ? I could, I think, if I had 
 tried very hard. But my conscience, un- 
 accustomed as I am to hear him much, when- 
 ever I trenched towards the subject, spoke so
 
 38 mr. blount's ms». 
 
 loud as to drown every thing else, and to 
 silence me altogether. I cannot say that my 
 conscience, on these occasions, used very 
 flattering language. ' Scoundrel P ' villain V 
 were among the gentlest of his hypothetical 
 epithets ; and, as I could not belie him, 
 granting his hypothesis, I had nothing left 
 for it but to prevent that being made real. 
 
 Never was any thing conducted so totally 
 without object — never was any thing so com- 
 pletely of means, without an end. I had 
 no object when I began, beyond the moment; 
 and afterwards also, every moment was in- 
 sulated in itself throughout our intercourse. 
 It stood upon its own grounds, and had no 
 reference to any thing that was to follow. 
 Neither have I any point of time, however 
 distant, to look to when we may meet again. 
 There is no resting-place for Hope — even in 
 the prospect of a life. And do I wish, then,
 
 MR. blount's mss. 39 
 
 that *he should forget me ? No ! I do not, 
 I cannot wish it. When I bade her forget 
 me, in words — my voice and my manner 
 belied them ; and when she said " Never ! r> 
 I could not repeat the prohibition. No ! as 
 my impression was the first made upon her 
 heart, may it ever continue the deepest! 
 
 It is only two nights since we sat on our 
 green knoll together, our hearts yearning 
 with increased fondness — our souls saddened 
 and softened by our approaching separation. 
 How beautiful she looked ! Her eyes shaded 
 by tenderness and by sadness — yet beaming 
 with the ennobling fire of a woman's early 
 love ! This miniature, when I first saw it, 
 I thought the happiest likeness I had ever 
 beheld; the expression was so admirably 
 seized and rendered. But what is it to that 
 which her face wore when I last gazed upon 
 it ? Oh ! there is nothing on this earth so
 
 40 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 beautiful, so touching, so noble, as the 
 countenance of a young and lovely woman 
 glowing with the enthusiasm of fervent and 
 undoubting love, yet softened by the im- 
 minence of one of those crosses which such 
 love is sure to meet ! 
 
 Two nights ago, I gazed upon her living 
 self — she was by my side — I pressed her to 
 my heart — I still might have prevented our 
 parting. Now, this bit of senseless ivory is 
 all I have in exchange — leagues of distance 
 interpose between us — we have parted, and 
 for ever !
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 
 
 41 
 
 EXTRACT IV. 
 
 " On se convient, on s'arrange; on s'ennuie, et on se 
 quitte." 
 
 La Clos. 
 
 [From the Diary.] 
 
 Paris, January 24, 1789. 
 I am not, and Ho not affect to be, particu- 
 larly straight-laced ; — but, really, the way in 
 which people go on here is enough to startle 
 even me. I had, of course, heard a good deal 
 of the laxness of society in France— that is, 
 in Paris, which is France — but my expecta- 
 tion did not approach the reality. Here, 
 good-conduct is the exception, the very rare 
 exception, — and cross purposes are the rule. 
 I say * cross-purposes,' for many of these
 
 42 mil blount's mss. 
 
 liaisons are such, that, for the life of me, I can 
 divine no other cause for their existence, ex- 
 cept that they are wrong and forbidden. 
 The old story of the Duchesse de Longue- 
 ville exclaiming " Quel dommage que ce n'est 
 pas un peche P" when she drank a glass of 
 iced water in hot weather, furnishes the prin- 
 ciple upon which the daily life and conversa- 
 tion of half the people in Paris are conducted. 
 It is no longer a mot, deriving its point from 
 its exaggeration, but the every-day spirit in 
 which the every-day intercourse of society is 
 carried on. The common topics of conversa- 
 tion are conformable. One day La Comtesse 
 de This has sacrifie the Chevalier That, to 
 the Marquis de T'other; — the next day we 
 hear of the Comtesse being sacrifice in her 
 turn for La Baronne somebody else ; and thus 
 does the world revolve at Paris. And if by 
 any chance a husband should venture to re-
 
 mr. blount's mss. 43 
 
 monstrate upon such a course of proceeding, 
 he is voted a brutal, and hooted out of all 
 decent society ! Truly this is ' a mad world, 
 my masters P 
 
 Now, all this, I confess, seems to me to be 
 exceedingly repulsive. The necessity, which 
 they make of it here, for a lady to set up a 
 lover with her wedding-coach, appears to me, 
 if it were only from its regularity, a piece of 
 profligacy almost ludicrous, from being, as it 
 were, invested with all the restraints and 
 choices of duty. Of late, since the Anglo- 
 manie has prevailed, the elegans of the Court, 
 among other bungling imitations of the Eng- 
 lish, have affected to fill their petites maisons 
 with persons of a lower class of society. It 
 is enough to kill one with laughter to hear the 
 uproar which the ladies of the Court make on 
 this subject, — not from any purity of mind, 
 or delicacy of feeling — not even from any
 
 44 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 aristocratical sentiments, (though, Heaven 
 knows ! these are strong enough among 
 them,) but because they feel that their own 
 places are usurped— that these nameless per- 
 sonages monopolize the attentions which they 
 conceive to be due to themselves alone. 
 They talk of scandale, and libertinage, and 
 want of bienseatice, in a manner which, con- 
 sidering the quarter from whence it comes, 
 is edifying to the last degree. In the more 
 polite times of twenty years back, it was in- 
 cumbent upon a man of quality to intrigue 
 only with the wife of his friend. That was 
 quite as it should be, and was never gainsaid. 
 But to abandon these persons to regularity 
 of conduct, whether they will or no, and in- 
 termix with plebeian paramours ; that, in- 
 deed, is an iniquity — a breach of morals and 
 of virtue — which it is impossible to reprobate 
 too loudly, or too severely.
 
 MR. blount's mss. 45 
 
 They are curious people, these Parisians ; 
 for all the folly and the vice of which I have 
 been speaking are in no degree overcharged ; 
 and yet there are some good points about 
 them too. In despite of all this, which, one 
 would imagine, would go near to decompose 
 society altogether, it is impossible anywhere 
 for intercourse to be on a footing so polished, 
 so cultivated, so delightful. There is, to be 
 sure, a tinge and a tone of heartlessness and 
 desouci, which occasionally appear something 
 too strongly — and give a rough unpleasant 
 jarring to the feelings, for the moment ; but, 
 for a man who goes into society merely to 
 amuse himself, I can scarcely conceive any 
 thing more delightful than that which he 
 will meet at Paris. There is a general cul- 
 tivation and smoothness — a tone, if not of 
 wit, at least of conventional manner and ex- 
 pression which passes for it, and, in truth, is
 
 46 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 very like it, which we should in vain look for 
 in London. To a foreigner, like myself, 
 who have kept, as much as I could, aloof 
 from the spirit of coterie, and, as a foreigner, 
 have been in great measure allowed to do so, 
 there is the additional advantage of being a 
 looker-on, rather than an actor; and thence 
 observing, and being amused by, a thousand 
 little points of peculiarity, sometimes of ridi- 
 cule, which, sharp-scented as the Parisians 
 are after this last species of game, they them- 
 selves wholly overlook- If I chose, which I 
 do not, to betray the private life and man- 
 ners of those by whom 1 have been received 
 in the confidence of hospitality, and under 
 the implied trust which exists in society, I 
 could, I think, draw some smart portraits of 
 a few of the persons who have been conspi- 
 cuous on the stage of Parisian society this 
 winter. This year, in particular, the charac-
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 4 1 
 
 ters of many have had all their points of 
 ridicule prominent about them, with the 
 superaddition of some which can scarcely be 
 said to have been developed in them before — 
 I allude to the mania for politics, which at 
 this time possesses every Frenchman breath- 
 ing. A topic which, ten years ago, was 
 scarcely ever broached in Parisian conversa- 
 tion, and never on any subject more general 
 than the disgrace of a minister, or the issue 
 of a court intrigue, has lately occupied the 
 head and the tongue of every Frenchman, 
 and of every Frenchwoman, who thinks and 
 talks, or who talks without thinking. The 
 monopoly of the theatres is no more — the 
 merits of the Clairon and the Dumesnil are 
 passed away with themselves, and would no 
 longer be subjects of discussion, if they were 
 to revive in all the pride of their talents and 
 their beauty. M. Necker's return to office
 
 48 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 — his talents for finance — M. de Mirabeau's 
 last pamphlet — the assembling of ' the States 
 General — these are the subjects which now 
 occupy the tongues of every salon in Paris. 
 Heaven knows where it will all end ! Such 
 a thorough change in the talking habits of 
 the most talking people in the world, must 
 surely prognosticate something extraordinary. 
 However, e qui vivra verra, 1 — we shall all 
 know if we live long enough. The meeting 
 of the States General will be a memorable 
 event, and it shall not be my fault if I miss 
 seeing it.
 
 mr, blount's mss. H) 
 
 EXTRACT V, 
 
 " II tut des citoyens avant qu'il fut des ruaitres ; 
 
 Nous rentrons dans les droits qu'ont perdus nos 
 ancetres." Hexriade ; Chant IV. 
 
 [From the Diary.] 
 
 Paris, May, 1789. 
 
 There never was any thing like the uni- 
 versal mania for politics which at this mo- 
 ment pervades every body in Paris. The 
 French, more than any other people, are 
 susceptible of one all-ingrossing subject, to 
 the exclusion of every other, however different 
 in kind as well as in degree. When one 
 topic has thoroughly become the fashion, no 
 other is admitted into decent society. In 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 MR. B LOU NT'S MSS. 
 
 the last century, nothing was spoken of but 
 the Molinistes and Jansenistes. A few years 
 back, the relative merits of French and 
 Italian music ingrossed all ears, hearts, and 
 minds ; and, by a curious coincidence, the 
 coin du Roi and coin de la Reine, were, from 
 the places where they sat at the Opera, the 
 distinguishing names given to the two parties. 
 The adherents of ' le Roi? and 4 la Heine? 
 have now, however, matters of a very dif- 
 ferent calibre to occupy them. And I must 
 do my friends, the Parisians, the justice to 
 say that, with regard to both novelty and 
 importance, their present objects of interest 
 are Incomparably superior to the trifles 
 which have interested them for the last hun- 
 dred years. Indeed, I have been led into 
 these expressions, from the impatience, aris- 
 ing from the universality and exclusiveness 
 of the topics of conversation in society, rather
 
 mr. blount's mss. 51 
 
 than from at all thinking lightly of the 
 ground of their subject matter. 
 
 For instance, I am sure I was as much 
 struck and moved with the spectacle I be- 
 held the other day at Versailles, as any 
 Frenchman could be, for the life of him. It 
 was only after I had come away, that the 
 suggestion a t all offered itself to my mind, 
 that the French can do nothing without some 
 mixture of theatric exhibition. I conclude 
 from its never occurring to me during its 
 continuance, that this might be an occasion 
 when such display is not misplaced. 
 
 I went down to Versailles, with a quantity 
 of other sight-seers from Paris, on the even- 
 ing of the 3d; and fortunately I was ac- 
 commodated with a seat at a window ad- 
 mirably situated to command a fiew of the 
 procession of the next day. The meeting 
 (or, as they call it here, the opening) of the 
 e 2
 
 52 MR. B LOU NT'S MSS. 
 
 States General was fixed for the 5th ; and 
 I was told that the procession of the Depu- 
 ties to the church, the day before, would be 
 amongst the most imposing parts of this re- 
 markable solemnity. In effect, I found it so. 
 The number of Deputies amounted to 
 twelve hundred; and the particular order 
 which they represented was readily apparent 
 to the eye, from the difference of their dress. 
 The clergy appeared in the full robes of their 
 profession, distinguishing between their va- 
 rious ranks. The immense crowds of people 
 who were present, seemed to look with less 
 interest on this body than on either of the 
 other two. The French have, undoubtedly, 
 long ceased to be fanatics. It would be im- 
 possible to excite a second St. Barthelemi 
 now. The clergy, for many years back, 
 have been losing their consideration with the 
 j^eople ;: — partly from the scandal of the lives
 
 mil Blount's mss. 53 
 
 of some of them, partly from the contemptible 
 frivolity of that of others; — and partly from 
 a large portion of the remainder having ga- 
 thered about the throne, and played the part 
 of mere court-followers. 
 
 The nobles were dressed in the full French 
 costume, with the plumed hat, and sword 
 by their side ; — which to some, I confess, ap- 
 peared to be rather incumbrances than orna- 
 ments. The nobility have generally been dis- 
 tinguished for their military grace and glory : 
 but this now exists only in recollection ; for, 
 with the exception of the few short campaigns 
 in America, the French armies have seen 
 no service since the peace of 1763. All the 
 distinguished officers of that day have passed 
 away ; and the present race have grown up 
 in garrison duty, relieved by the dissipation 
 of Parisian society. The increase, too, of 
 the created nobles has been very great of
 
 54 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 late years; and these unhappy persons seem, 
 like the bat in the fable, to belong neither 
 to the beasts nor the birds. The general cha- 
 racteristic of the noble deputies, as they 
 marched by, was undoubtedly a sombre and 
 sour cast of countenance ; for as they are at 
 the top of the wheel, and as the very meeting 
 of the States General proves that it will 
 turn in some degree, they figure to them- 
 selves no very particular pleasure in the 
 events which will probably follow. Indeed, 
 it is pretty generally understood that the 
 exemption of the privileged orders from tax- 
 ation must, of necessity, be immediately 
 abolished. 
 
 But the most imposing part of the sight 
 was, beyond all doubt, the Deputies of the 
 Tiers Etat. They were dressed in plain 
 clothes and long black cloaks ; but in num- 
 ber, in general appearance, and, above all, in
 
 mr. blount's mss. 55 
 
 talents and enlightenment, they most indispu- 
 tably possess the superiority over their col- 
 leagues. They are chiefly composed, as I 
 am informed, of merchants, of men of let- 
 ters, and, above all, of lawyers. Some few 
 nobles, however, have chosen to be returned 
 by the third order. 
 
 Among these is the celebrated Comte de 
 Mirabeau — a man who, in various ways, 
 has acquired a reputation, bad and good, far 
 bevond that of any of his fellow deputies. 
 He was pointed out to me as he marched 
 along ; and, though far from being handsome, 
 he has undoubtedly the air of a man of 
 no ordinary kind. He was remarkable, in 
 the crowd, for the extreme length and pro- 
 fusion in which he wore his hair, which gave 
 his physiognomy a very singular aspect. 
 His face is pale and pock-marked, but his 
 forehead is broad and square, and his eye
 
 56 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 and his mouth both evince the traits of the 
 firmest determination, and the most un- 
 quenchable ardour. 
 
 Great things are expected from this cele- 
 brated person. He is spoken of with much 
 enthusiasm — from some, of admiration, from 
 others, of hatred ; but I have heard no one 
 mention him with affection. The wrongs of 
 his early years (he has been repeatedly im- 
 prisoned by lettres-de-cachet) were followed 
 by the most flagrant moral irregularities, in 
 the issue of nearlv all of which he ultimate- 
 ly triumphed, by sheer dint of his own ta- 
 lents, skill, audacity, and eloquence. He has 
 now a nobler and wider field for his elo- 
 quence ; and, if he be the man he is consider- 
 ed to be, he cannot fail to go a great way. 
 
 The next day, the opening of the Session 
 itself took place. A large temporary build- 
 ing had been erected, in the avenue of Ver- 
 sailles, to receive the Deputies. A consider-
 
 57 
 
 able number of strangers were admitted to 
 witness the scene ; and I was able to procure 
 a ticket. At the upper end of the hall was 
 placed a raised platform, with the throne for 
 the King, an arm-chair for the Queen, and 
 chairs without arms for the rest of the Royal 
 Family.* Below, the Deputies were arran- 
 ged. The clergy stretched down the hall on 
 the right hand, the nobles on the left, and 
 the Tiers Etat faced the platform. 
 
 After waiting a considerable time, the 
 King and Queen entered. At this moment, 
 I felt very strongly that indescribable sensa- 
 tion which is experienced when we personally 
 witness a ceremony relating to great histori- 
 cal events, more especially when it is one at 
 which a great body of people assists. It is 
 an impression (if I may so speak) of solem- 
 
 * The etiquette of the French Court, Avith respect to 
 seats, is something ludicrous. The Queen has afauteuil; 
 those of the blood royal, des chaises ; and certain orders 
 of the nobility, des tabourets. This is precious fooling.
 
 58 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 nity, which is physically felt chiefly in its 
 effect upon the respiration, and from thence 
 upon the muscles of the breast. But I 
 should in vain attempt to describe it. It 
 is sufficiently well known to those who have 
 experienced it themselves. 
 
 The Queen was evidently in considerable 
 agitation: her colour came and went; and 
 she seemed to be assisting at an assembly to 
 which, and to its purposes, she felt no good- 
 will. I could not help being struck with 
 the singular effect which (to my English 
 eyes) the appearance of the Queen, thus 
 officially among the representatives of the 
 nation, made upon me. Surely it is some- 
 thing anomalous in a nation in which the 
 salique law exists. 
 
 The King was calm and even cold, which 
 is the general expression of his countenance. 
 He seemed little moved by the perfect novel- 
 ty and singular importance of the crisis,
 
 mr. blount*s mss. 59 
 
 and of the position in which he stood ; but 
 delivered the speech, with which the business 
 of the day opened, with a steady and simple 
 enunciation, and a quiet dignity of manner, 
 which, I am told, are the usual characteristics 
 of his public appearances. 
 
 The Chancellor (M. de Barantin) also 
 spoke ; — as did M. Necker, who delivered a 
 long and able statement of the financial con- 
 dition of the country. This celebrated per- 
 son has an air of simplicity and firmness, 
 much in keeping with the character of his ad- 
 ministration — and his official statement was 
 given with all that clearness, which might 
 be expected from so distinguished a financier. 
 
 With his discourse terminated the busi- 
 ness of this remarkable day. All the world 
 is now occupied in discussing in how many 
 chambers the Deputies are to sit. No re- 
 solution seems yet to have been made upon 
 the subject ; and every body talks, writes,
 
 60 mr. blount's ms's. 
 
 and thinks of nothing else. Some say it will 
 be in one, some two, some three ; bnt, for my 
 part, I hear too much about it, every day 
 and all day, to have the slightest inclina- 
 tion to debate the matter now upon paper. 
 
 Note, by the Editor. The letters and di- 
 aries of Mr. Blount at this period are, very 
 naturally, almost wholly ingrossed with the 
 details of the French Revolution which fell 
 under his observation. For obvious reasons, 
 however, it is not my purpose to insert them 
 here. But the following account of the taking 
 of the Bastille involves no political discussion 
 —and, as being the narrative of an eye-wit- 
 ness, may prove interesting to my readers. 
 It was, in some degree, to prepare them for at 
 least the tone of the period, that I have pre- 
 ceded it with the account of the meeting of the 
 States General, which they have just read.
 
 mr. blount's mss. 61 
 
 EXTRACT VI. 
 
 — — — Cet affreux chateau, palais de la vengeance. 
 Qui renferme souvent le crime et l'innocence ! " 
 
 Hekriade ; Chaxt IV. 
 
 [From the Diary.] 
 
 Paris. July. ijaj. 
 
 Truly, these are awful times we live in. 
 A time incredibly short suffices to work the 
 most stupendous changes. A very few hours 
 have annihilated that which had stood for 
 ages. That fearful prison-house, whose " se- 
 crets " were known to few, and revealed by 
 none, is thrown open to the gaze of all; — the 
 Bastille is no more ! A person leaving Paris, 
 last week, would, as he passed out South- 
 ward, have gone close under the walls of this
 
 62 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 fortress, which could never be contemplated 
 without a feeling allied both to disgust and 
 awe; — returning now, he would find it empty, 
 dismantled, and with workmen actively em- 
 ployed in totally razing it to the ground. 
 To what a train of moral feelings does it not 
 give rise, thus to have free access and re- 
 gress to and from a place hitherto so closely 
 secured and so vigilantly guarded ; — to walk 
 familiarly and without impediment among 
 those walls, which have for ages formed the 
 very bugbear of arbitrary and secret impri- 
 sonment ; into which so many, like the beasts 
 in the fable of the Sick Lion's Cave, entered, 
 but never returned again ! But I have taken 
 up my pen to record facts while they are 
 fresh in instant memory — I shall have plenty 
 of time for moralizing whenever I may choose 
 to occupy myself so vainly. 
 
 I was an eye-witness of a great part of
 
 MR. blount's mss. 63 
 
 the engagement (if so it can be called) on 
 the 14th. For about eight-and-forty hours 
 previous to that memorable day, there had 
 been indications of some great movement 
 on the part of the people. Men left their 
 ordinary business, and were to be seen mov- 
 ing about with faces of importance and of 
 excitement, or standing in groups engaged 
 in eager and animated conversation. To- 
 wards the evening of the 12th, many of these 
 appeared in arms ; and by nightfall an as- 
 tonishing number of armed citizens were as- 
 sembled in their different districts. No one 
 knew where this thunder-cloud would dis- 
 charge itself. Every now and then, how- 
 ever, a gloomy murmur of the word Bastille 
 tended to indicate where it would break. 
 There had, some short time previously, been 
 a tumult in the Fauxbourg Saint-Antoine, 
 which had induced the governor, M. de
 
 64 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 Launay, to put the Bastille into some 
 state of defence ; and his preparations had, 
 it is said, increased in proportion with the 
 augmentation of the ferment in Paris. 
 There were altogether upon the towers 
 about fifteen pieces of cannon, eight and 
 four-pounders ; but, as it would seem, they 
 were almost totally useless for any purpose 
 beyond that of firing a salute, — either from 
 decay; or from the manner in which they 
 were mounted completely exposing those 
 who served the guns, in the act of reload- 
 ing them. There were, however, some small 
 pieces, between cannon and small-arms, call- 
 ed amusettes du Comic de Saxe, placed at 
 different loop-holes, besides a piece of ord- 
 nance charged with grape, which was placed 
 in one of the courts. The garrison consist- 
 ed of eighty-two Invalids, and of thirty- 
 two men of a Swiss regiment, under the 
 command of a lieutenant
 
 mr. Blount's mss. 65 
 
 In the present state of the public mind, 
 these preparations for defence appeared to 
 be for offence; and violent murmurs were 
 excited by the appearance of the ordnance 
 on the towers. Early on the 14th a depu- 
 tation from the H6tel-de-Ville waited on the 
 governor, to state the agitation which these 
 guns caused, and to request that they might 
 be removed. M. de Lauaay answered, that 
 he could not dismount the guns without 
 an order from the king ; but that, having 
 already received some intimation of the feel- 
 ings of the people with regard to them, he 
 had had them run back as far from the em- 
 brasures, as it was possible. Some mem- 
 bers of this deputation were even permitted 
 to go all over the fortifications, that they 
 might judge with their own eves of how 
 every thing stood ; and the garrison swore 
 to them that they would not fire, nor make 
 
 vol. i. p
 
 66 MR. bloum's mss. 
 
 use of them, unless they were first attacked. 
 With this they seemed tolerably satisfied., 
 and, for the time, retired. 
 
 In about half an hour afterwards, how- 
 ever, an immense crowd of people arrived 
 before the Bastille, armed with every spe- 
 cies of weapon, and of offensive instruments 
 which could be used as such. Guns, 
 swords, axes, all were put into requisition ; 
 there was scarcely a man who had not one 
 or the other. They shouted " "We will 
 have (nous voulons) the Bastille ! — down 
 with the soldiers ! — down with the Bastille P 1 
 With these cries they approached the out- 
 works in very considerable numbers : the 
 men on the walls, it seems, called out to 
 them, to warn them of the danger they were 
 in, exposed as they Mere to the fire of the 
 place ; but they came on, no whit daunted, 
 and gained possession of the first small
 
 MR. blount's mss. 67 
 
 draw-bridge by an act of individual acti- 
 vity and courage, not a little remarkable. 
 
 A man, whd was, as I have heard, 
 an old soldier, climbed upon the roof of 
 the house nearest to the bridge, (a perfu- 
 mer's shop) ; and, from thence, got upon 
 the outmost wall — from this he let him- 
 self drop upon the top of the guard-house ; 
 and thence into the court. He searched 
 in the guard-house for the keys of the 
 draw-bridge, to which he was now close, 
 but thev had been removed. He then 
 called to his associates for an axe. This 
 was thrown to him — with this he broke the 
 bolts and locks which secured the bridge — 
 and it fell ! — In like manner, with more 
 hands, the great outer draw-bridge was 
 also lowered ; and the assailants had now 
 footing in the outworks of the place. 
 
 All this time the garrison had forborne 
 f2
 
 68 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 to fire. Indeed no shot had been discharged 
 on either side. But, emboldened by this suc- 
 cess, the assailants rushed, in a mass, to carry 
 the second bridge also ; and, as they came on, 
 they fired a volley upon the garrison. This 
 was returned ; and with so much effect that 
 thev retreated under different vaulted arch- 
 wavs of the outer courts, to protect them- 
 selves from the fire of the troops. From 
 hence they kept up a continual fire, but 
 thev did not advance against the second 
 bridge. 
 
 What I have hitherto related, I did not 
 personally witness ; but I have gathered it 
 since, from the thousand and one tongues 
 which have been occupied with nothing else, 
 from that time to this. It was after matters 
 had been, for about an hour, in the state 
 which I have just described, that I arrived
 
 mr. blount's mss. 69 
 
 within view of the scene. Thus it came 
 about : — 
 
 I am in the division of what Sterne calls 
 Inquisitive Travellers ; that is, I take caro 
 to see every thing I consider worth seeing 
 in the places where I am. I do not mean 
 mere churches and pictures, for there are 
 many things I place far above them in my 
 list of curiosity. But, for sights which bear 
 upon and develope human character ge- 
 nerally, and national character in particular, 
 I am a complete badaud.* The great his- 
 torical events which have taken place since 
 I have been in Paris, have furnished ample 
 food for this appetite ; and I have banqueted 
 on them accordingly. I go frequently to 
 Versailles to be present at the meetings of 
 the National Assembly ; I walk about the 
 
 * A Parisian word, for a person who runs to see sights. 
 
 Ed.
 
 70 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 streets of Paris, looking at every thing, list- 
 ening to every thing, and saying nothing, 
 except to my trusty note-book here, which 
 is my confidant. If I ever dabbled in print, 
 I think it could produce a decent octavo 
 volume, under some such title as * Events of 
 the French Revolution, by an Eye-witness ;' 
 or, c Paris and Versailles in 1789;' or some 
 such ad captandum name. At all events, it 
 would have the advantage of being more 
 accurate as to facts, than nine-tenths of the 
 pamphlets which are daily vomited from the 
 press in London upon this subject. I open 
 my eyes and ears, and see and hear what 
 passes, and I book it forthwith ; and this 
 I take to be the true way to have an ac- 
 curate record of what is going- on. 
 
 In my observatory rambles with these ob- 
 jects in view, I frequently direct my steps to- 
 wards the Hotel-de-Ville ; for, since the muni-
 
 Tl 
 
 cipalities have acquired such an accession of 
 consideration, and thence of power, that is 
 the chief nucleus of the overt acts which 
 take place in Paris. I was there on the 14th 
 — from the general impression that some- 
 thing extraordinary must result from the 
 ferment of the last two days ; but without 
 having anv idea of the extent to which the 
 movement of the people would be carried. 
 I arrived there about one o'clock, just at the 
 moment that a deputation from the city was 
 about to proceed to the Bastille ; the news 
 of its being attacked having rapidly spread, 
 and the sound of the firing being a continu- 
 ous proof that the attack was still prosecuted. 
 The deputation marched with a drum and a 
 flag, in order, I believe, to assert their offi- 
 cial character; and thousands upon thou- 
 sands were gathering in its train. 
 
 Now, I had some debate with myself as
 
 M R. BLOUNT S MSS. 
 
 to the course I should pursue : — I had the 
 strongest desire to get a sight of the siege of 
 the Bastille, but I had no sort of inclination 
 to be shot in the endeavour to gratify it. 
 Had I been a Frenchman, my decision on 
 the subject must have been made long ago ; 
 but, being a foreigner, I thought it would 
 be the height of folly to get myself knocked 
 on the head for the concerns of the French 
 people. " Que diable alloit-il faire dans cette 
 galore?" would have been a fitting epitaph 
 and elegy for me, if I had fallen when en- 
 gaged upon such an adventure. But I 
 thought that I had now a fair opportunity 
 of, at least, seeing what danger there was, 
 before I put myself in the way of it. I was 
 pretty confident that the Bastille would not 
 fire upon the city deputation, at least with- 
 out some parley. So I set off under its wing, 
 in the midst of an immense mass of armed
 
 MR. B LOU NT'S MSS. 73 
 
 citizens who accompanied it. The far greater 
 part of these was evidently composed of men 
 unused to arms — shopkeepers, tradesmen, 
 and mechanics, who had, by seizing the first 
 weapon in their way, converted themselves 
 into soldiers for the time ; but I said to my- 
 self that I would for ever give up all pre- 
 tensions to skill in physiognomy, if they did 
 not, for the most part, bear themselves like 
 the most gallant veterans if matters came 
 to extremities. As the turn-out was per- 
 fectly voluntary, no one assumed arms who 
 did not feel within himself the prompting 
 courage to do so ; and, accordingly, though 
 of course there was no military regularity 
 or uniformity, I thought I had never seen 
 a more determined-looking set of men than 
 those by whom I was now surrounded. For 
 my own part, I had no ostensible arms but 
 a stout walking-stick, almost worthy of the
 
 74 ME. blount's mss. 
 
 denomination of a cudgel; but I carried 
 in my bosom, as I have always done in 
 my similar perambulations, a pistol with a 
 spring-bayonet, to defend myself in case of 
 need. 
 
 We advanced down the Rue St. Antoine, 
 at the extremity of which, on a sort of angle 
 from which several streets branch off, the 
 Bastille stands, or I should now, perhaps, 
 more correctly say, stood. When we got to 
 a part of the street where the houses are 
 sufficiently near to it to command a view of 
 what was passing, and yet were not subjected 
 to any very great exposure, I dropped behind 
 in order to see whether I could not obtain 
 entrance into one of them. Most of the 
 houses were, naturally, closed ; but there 
 was one, the premier of which was a sort of 
 low tavern, which still remained open, in the 
 expectation, doubtless, of profiting by the
 
 vast concourse of people which was throng- 
 ing by. Into this I entered ; and, after ex- 
 plaining to the very intelligent landlady what 
 was my object, and, also, the reasons why 
 I did not join the crowd, enforcing the whole 
 with a due application of louis-d'ors, I was 
 introduced, by her means, to a washerwoman 
 who lived an troisihne ; and who, for a cer- 
 tain consideration, permitted me to mount to 
 one of her windows, on condition I would not 
 open the wooden jalousies which Mere closely 
 shut before it. Through the interstices of 
 this I could both see and hear distinctly ; so 
 I accepted her terms readily. 
 
 My endeavour was to see what had be- 
 come of my late companions, the deputation. 
 They had advanced so far that I could no 
 longer distinguish their flag. I could see, 
 however, that the soldiers on the towers 
 reversed their pieces ; and shouldered them
 
 76 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 with the muzzle downwards, and the butt in 
 the air. They also displayed a flag of truce. 
 These I conceived, and justly, to be tokens 
 of being willing to parley with the deputa- 
 tion ; and the assailants seemed so to regard 
 it also ; for their fire slackened considerably, 
 though it did not wholly cease. I was, 
 therefore, not a little surprised, when in the 
 course of about twenty minutes, or half an 
 hour, a shout, the most tremendous I ever 
 heard issue from human lungs, was raised — 
 the attack was recommenced with redoubled 
 fury, and the garrison returned the fire 
 briskly, and with considerable effect. 
 
 I have since learned that this was occa- 
 sioned by mutual jealousies and distrusts, be- 
 tween the governor and the deputation, 
 aided by the excessive noise which prevailed 
 rendering it impossible for the parties to be 
 heard to each other. The garrison, as they
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. < I 
 
 assert, ended by believing the deputation to 
 be a feigned one ; and the deputation, on 
 their part, accuse the garrison of having fired 
 upon them unawares. It appears, however, 
 that the deputation was divided, one party 
 had the flag and drum, and the other not ; 
 and amidst the noise and confusion of such 
 a scene, it was most difficult to know who 
 was who, and what to believe, or whom to 
 trust. It is certain, however, that the de- 
 putation finally did not enter the Bastille ; 
 and that, on their departure, the people 
 rushed forward to attack the second bridge, 
 with the utmost eagerness and determination. 
 Nothing could be more awfully interesting 
 than the scene which now presented itself to 
 me. I had never before witnessed any thing 
 in the nature of an engagement, beyond a 
 sham-fight in Hyde Park, and this alone 
 would have been sufficient to have strongly
 
 78 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 impressed and excited me : but the circum- 
 stances attending this attack, were immea- 
 sureably more memorable than the attack 
 itself, as such. Here was a strong fortress, 
 which had been the terror of all Paris for 
 nearly four hundred years,* now attacked, 
 not by a disciplined and skilful army, but by 
 the very citizens who had hitherto trembled 
 at the bare name of the place, which, un- 
 taught, untrained, they were now assailing 
 to its downfall. 
 
 I was not, however, at this time, (about 
 three o'clock in the afternoon,) at all assured 
 that they would ultimately succeed. Though 
 
 * The two first towers of the Bastille were built, one 
 on each side the, then, Porte St. Antoine, to defend the 
 entrance to the city, in 13J0, under Charles V. The 
 other six towers, and the connecting curtains, were built 
 in the reign of his successor, in the year ] 380, when the 
 castle assumed its present shape, and the road was turned, 
 as it now exists. Some modern works were added about 
 Henry II.'s time.
 
 MR. blount's mss. 79 
 
 the heavy cannon of the place was almost 
 useless, yet its mere defensive strength, in 
 the nature of walls and ditches, rendered it 
 highly improbable that it would be taken by 
 assault ; and, as for blockade, which might 
 have been made efficacious, it was manifestly 
 impossible for it to continue long without the 
 place being relieved by external assistance. 
 Neither did the event prove me to be very far 
 wrong, for there was only one man in the 
 garrison killed throughout the day ; the 
 place was surrendered, not taken; and the 
 speedy capitulation is universally attributed 
 to the extreme unpopularity of the governor, 
 not only with the prisoners, but with the offi- 
 cers and the troops under his command. It 
 was with considerable difficulty that they 
 were kept to their duty during the attack. 
 But I am anticipating. 
 
 The party which advanced upon the second
 
 80 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 bridge were repulsed, with considerable loss. 
 I saw several men fall, and, from their being 
 left on the spot, I conclude they were killed 
 outright. A good many others were carried 
 away wounded, and some of them passed 
 close under the window at which I was sta- 
 tioned. The assailants, however, though dri- 
 ven back, did not retreat far, but maintained 
 a continual fire. Few things, indeed, sur- 
 prised me more, during the day, than the 
 quickness and regularity of the fire of mus- 
 ketry, considering how unpractised the hands 
 were which kept it up. 
 
 At a little before four o'clock, they brought 
 three large waggons full of straw, to set fire 
 to the out-buildings. This was the greatest 
 blunder which was committed throughout 
 the affair. The flames thus caused, were far 
 more an impediment to them, than an annoy- 
 ance to the garrison ; and accordingly, the
 
 MR. blount's mss. 81 
 
 waggons had not been long on fire, before as 
 strenuous endeavours were made to remove 
 them, as there had previously been to bring 
 them, and place them accurately. I saw one 
 individual dash forward, and, by his unas- 
 sisted strength and courage, withdraw one of 
 these blazing waggons, which blocked up 
 the approach to the main gate of entrance. 
 This feat excited vast shouts from the assail- 
 ants ; and truly it deserved all praise. A 
 bolder, or a more intrepid action I never 
 beheld. Two others had accompanied this 
 man in his attempt, but they were killed at 
 each side of him. He ultimately succeeded 
 alone. 
 
 Some of the corps known by the name of 
 the French guards* now appeared — not to 
 attack, but to assist the citizens. They 
 
 * (rallies Fran<;aises ; afterwards " La Garde Natiouale." 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 brought with them six pieces of artillery, 
 among which was a mortar : these began to 
 play upon the place. This was now the 
 critical moment. The crisis had risen to the 
 most enthralling degree of interest ; and yet 
 it was at this time that I quitted the scene. 
 I think, moreover, that most others in my 
 place would have done as much. I perceiv- 
 ed that although the attack was still kept 
 up by vast numbers, with extreme steadiness 
 and bravery, small parties of two and three 
 began to detach themselves from the outer 
 part of the crowd, and to walk rapidly away 
 in various directions. Many passed up the 
 Rue St. Antoine, and I endeavoured to dis- 
 cover from their conversation what it was 
 that caused this new proceeding. I soon 
 guessed that these persons were not among 
 the bravest of those assembled ; for their 
 looks betrayed considerable agitation, and
 
 mr. blount's mss. 83 
 
 they continually looked back over their 
 shoulders, till they fairly got out of sight. 
 I was some time before I could divine what 
 new danger had arisen to alarm them, to 
 which they had not equally been exposed 
 throughout the day. I was so high above 
 the street, that I could scarcely catch a word 
 that was said in a conversational tone : at 
 last, one person calling to another at a little 
 distance, informed me of the cause of their 
 retreat, wliich, I confess, instantly induced me 
 to join to them. It seems that, by some 
 communication from within, it had become 
 current that M. de Launay had declared, 
 that rather than give himself up into the 
 hands of the people, he would set fire to the 
 powder magazine, and blow himself and the 
 Bastille into the air together. This he might 
 do if he pleased, for any thing I cared, if it 
 regarded only himself; but there was known
 
 84 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 to be a large quantity of powder in the 
 place, which would have blown up half the 
 Fauxbourg St. Antoine, and all the streets 
 surrounding the Bastille, if it went off at all. 
 This was a serious consideration for me, 
 where I was then situated. So, telling my 
 hostess of what I had heard, I decamped 
 with considerable celerity, and began to re- 
 trace my steps towards the Hotel-de-Ville. 
 
 I have since learned that the danger was 
 greater than I had, at the time, in fact sup- 
 posed it to be ; for it was not a mere emp- 
 ty threat, on the part of M. de Launay. He 
 had actually taken up a lighted match, and 
 was proceeding to the powder-magazine, when 
 the sentries prevented his putting his design 
 into execution, by presenting their fixed bay- 
 onets at his breast. It is further stated, and 
 I believe with perfect truth, that he sum- 
 moned a council of the garrison, and stated
 
 mr. blount's mss. 85 
 
 to them, that as there seemed no hope of 
 relief from without, and as, from fatigue and 
 reluctance to fire on their fellow-country- 
 men, their defence was growing slacker and 
 slacker, he saw nothing for it, but to blow 
 up the Bastille and themselves together, ra- 
 ther than put themselves into the hands of 
 the sanguinary populace. The garrison did 
 not, in the slightest degree, coincide with the 
 governor's view of the case : they had not 
 such reasons to fear the effects of unpopu- 
 larity as he had, and had no more desire 
 to be suddenly sent up to figure in mid-air, 
 than I had myself. 
 
 They accordingly took effectual means to 
 prevent his surprising them with the exe- 
 cution of his project ; and, after much im- 
 portunity, persuaded him to allow them to 
 send a flag of truce up to one of the towers, 
 with a drum to beat a retreat. This was
 
 86 MR. B LOU NT'S MSS. 
 
 accordingly done. The Parisians, it was 
 probable, had no great knowledge of the 
 different points of war ; but of the meaning 
 of a white flag thus displayed, they could 
 not but be aware. They still, however, con- 
 tinued their efforts to enter the place ; partly 
 because they feared some stratagem, and 
 partly because their fire from so many dif- 
 ferent quarters is said to have fallen among 
 each other, and to have been mistaken to 
 have proceeded from the place. Nay, some 
 affirm still, that the fire from the Bastille did 
 not cease ; but I think the former version 
 the more probable. The confusion was, na- 
 turally, extreme, and the mistake one which 
 might easily arise. 
 
 At last, however, they began to perceive 
 that the fire had slackened ; and they ap- 
 proached closer to the bridge, still discharg- 
 ing volleys, crying out " Lower the bridge !
 
 MR. blount's mss. 87 
 
 — lower the bridge P At this moment, the 
 officer of the Swiss detachment, whose insti- 
 gation had powerfully contributed to encou- 
 rage M. de Launay in his defence, parleyed 
 with the assailants through a sort of loophole 
 which was near the drawbridge. He demand- 
 ed, in the name of the governor, that the 
 garrison should be allowed to march out with 
 the honours of war. This was peremptorily 
 refused. They then wrote down the terms on 
 which they were willing to surrender, — name- 
 ly, that they would lay down their arms 
 and give up the Bastille, — in consideration of 
 which, they should receive no personal harm. 
 He added, " We have 20,000 lbs. of powder 
 in the place ; and if you do not grant us 
 these terms, we will blow ourselves and the 
 whole neighbourhood into the air." The 
 paper was handed through the same loop- 
 hole through which he had first spoken. A
 
 88 MR. BLOUNTS MSS. 
 
 large plank was thrown across the ditch, and 
 the same person whom I have already men- 
 tioned as having withdrawn the waggon of 
 blazing straw,* passed across, received it, 
 and handed it to an officer of the Queen's re- 
 giment, who, strange to say ! had been most 
 active in the attack. This officer, M. Elie, 
 read the paper aloud. The people cried out 
 u Lower your bridge — nothing shall happen 
 to you P and M. Elie, " We accept your 
 terms, upon the word of an officer (foi ctof- 
 ficier) — lower your bridge." 
 
 But M. Elie found it impossible to keep 
 the promise he had thus given. The mo- 
 ment the bridge was lowered and the gate 
 opened, the people rushed in, in tumultuous 
 crowds. Acknowledging no commander, they 
 
 * This person's name, I am informed, is Riole ; he is 
 a mercer, and lives near St. Paul's. He performed many 
 distinguished acts of bravery during the day.
 
 mr. blount's mss. 89 
 
 disregarded the capitulation,— they violated 
 every feeling of humanity. It is now that 
 the painful part of the narrative begins. It 
 was impossible, under such circumstances of 
 excitement as I was placed in, not to have 
 the feelings enlisted on the one side or the 
 other. I confess my hopes and wishes had 
 gone along with the assailants: — had they 
 been as merciful after their victory, as they 
 were brave in gaining, I should have had 
 no cause to regret their success. 
 
 The Bastille surrendered at about twenty 
 minutes before five o'clock. For about half- 
 an-hour previously to this time, I had left 
 the Rue St. Antoine, and gone to the Place 
 de l"H6tel-de-\ llle, where, as may be sup- 
 posed, no inconsiderable degree of anxiety 
 and agitation existed. After remaining here 
 some time, I was just beginning to think of 
 turning homeward, when I heard the most
 
 90 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 tremendous shouts and yells proceeding from 
 the direction of the Bastille; and two or 
 three individuals covered with dust, and 
 sweat, and blood, came running towards the 
 H6tel-de-Ville, crying out that the Bastille 
 was taken, and that they were bringing the 
 garrison this way. Accordingly, I soon saw 
 some of the miserable Invalids being dragged 
 along like slaves rather than prisoners, and 
 undergoing every species of contumely and 
 insult. Two of them, I heard, had been 
 hanged in the next street ; and when the 
 rest of them were under examination in the 
 H6tel-de-Ville, the populace kept crying out : 
 — " Give them up to us ! that we may hang 
 them! — They have shed the blood of citizens; 
 let us hang them I' 1 But the Gardes Fran- 
 chises, who, after the surrender, displayed 
 great humanity, interfered in their behalf. 
 They represented that they had only obeyed
 
 91 
 
 the commands of their officers; — that they 
 would have been fired upon by the Swiss 
 troops, if they had refused to obey ; — and to 
 sum all, they begged, as the only recompense 
 for their services, to be allowed to save the 
 lives of these soldiers. On such a plea, it 
 could not, at that moment, be denied them ; 
 though I question whether their other ar- 
 guments would have had the desired effect. 
 The Invalids were given into the hands of 
 the Gardes Franchises, who escorted them 
 to their head-quarters at the Hotel des In- 
 valides. 
 
 This was scarcely done when another 
 party drew near with the officers. These 
 did not go into the H6tel-de-Ville at all ; but 
 cried out : — " A la Greve ! a la Greve ! n 
 and proceeded in that direction, dragging 
 their unfortunate victims with them. 
 
 A cold shudder came over me. I could
 
 92 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 not doubt what their fate would be. The 
 populace seemed drunk with rage; — they 
 yelled forth the most horrible cries of ven- 
 geance against the unhappy men who were 
 in their hands; and, as they hurried them 
 along, seemed almost too impatient to post- 
 pone their death till they arrived at the 
 spot on which they had determined to inflict 
 it. — This was the common place of execu- 
 tion. They determined that those who had 
 governed the Bastille should die where the 
 vilest criminals undergo the ignominious 
 sentence of the law. I was inexpressibly 
 shocked. The sight of men so shortly to be 
 deprived of life, and that in so dreadful a 
 manner, was sufficient in itself to raise the 
 strongest emotions of terror and disgust ; — 
 but I had never previously witnessed any 
 scene at all similar ; I had never beheld 
 living men so soon to become inanimate 
 corpses. The effect on me had all the addi-
 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. W6 
 
 tional effect of novelty, in addition to its 
 own inseparable horrors. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding that I felt all this, 
 and felt it more strongly than I can express 
 in words, I was irresistibly impelled to go 
 with the crowd, and witness, with my own 
 eyes, how it would all end. I had seen, 
 during that day, many individuals meet 
 death ; — but, oh ! what difference there is be- 
 tween its being inflicted and suffered " in the 
 trade of war,*" and the being massacred by a 
 sanguinary mob, with no one near but ene- 
 mies, with every eye beaming hatred and rage 
 upon you, instead of those soothing appli- 
 ances which we need so much at the moment 
 when the spirit takes its awful flight into 
 Eternity. Yet, sick and shuddering as I 
 was, I followed the multitude to the Place de 
 Greve. 
 
 M. de Launay, the Governor, seemed to 
 be the object of universal execration. He
 
 94 me. blount's mss. 
 
 not only was the Governor of the Bastille, 
 but he had been individually and peculiarly 
 obnoxious and hated as such. It is said that 
 there would, more than once, have been in- 
 surrections of the prisoners, and sometimes of 
 the troops, in the Bastille, if it had not been 
 for the mildness, firmness, and moderation 
 of M. de Losme, his major, who was as 
 much beloved as the governor was detested. 
 But, alas ! this amiable and excellent man 
 was here also ; and no distinction seemed to 
 be made between the fate which impended 
 over both. There were only these two offi- 
 cers who arrived at the Place de Greve — 
 some had escaped altogether — and two had 
 been killed on the way. 
 
 M. de Launay was a man apparently near 
 fifty ; his head was uncovered, and his dress 
 was greatlv disordered. His face was the 
 picture of despair. Though a brave man
 
 mr. blount's mss. 95 
 
 physically, I doubt not — indeed, his endea- 
 vour to blow up the Bastille sufficiently 
 proves this — the horrors of such a death as 
 this seemed almost to have unstrung his 
 nerves. His cheek was deadly white— his eyes 
 were glazed and haggard. In the midst of 
 the most appalling cries, he was dragged to 
 the usual place of execution : a ruffian be- 
 hind him raised an axe with which he was 
 armed — struck — and the head rolled upon 
 the pavement ! It was instantly snatched 
 up, placed upon the end of a pike, and carried 
 off to the Palais Royal. 
 
 M. de Losme's fate was different. M. de 
 Launay was just slain, and the crowd were 
 tearing the major, one from another, that 
 each might be the most forward in putting 
 him to death, when a man, apparently about 
 thirty, forced his way through the crowd — 
 threw himself between De Losme and his
 
 96 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 nearest assailants', and exclaimed, " Stop ! 
 you know not what you do ! — you are about 
 to kill the most humane, the most excellent 
 man in the world ! I was five years in the 
 Bastille : to his humanity I owe every thing ! 
 ~all other prisoners would say the same !" 
 
 M - de Losme, who seems to have retained 
 his courage and presence of mind in a very 
 remarkable manner, raised his eyes upon 
 hearing these words, and said, a Young man, 
 what are you about to do ? Retire — you 
 will only sacrifice yourself, without being 
 able to save me !" 
 
 But the Marquis de Pelleport (for so, I 
 have since learned, this generous person is 
 named) would not thus abandon the man 
 to whom he felt cause of gratitude. He 
 perceived that the crowd, literally howling 
 for blood, paid no attention to what he said, 
 — probably did not hear it. But, although
 
 MR. blount's mss. 97 
 
 he was unarmed, he flung himself before 
 M. de Losme, and strove to keep off the 
 populace with his hands. He received se- 
 veral wounds, from axes, from sabres, and 
 from bayonets ; at length he seized a gun 
 from the hands of one of those who pressed 
 most upon him, and made the most furious 
 resistance, both for himself and for his friend. 
 At last he was overpowered by numbers, 
 disarmed, and forced at a distance from 
 him. He then urged his way through the 
 crowd, and sank exhausted on the steps of 
 the H6tel-de-Ville. I strove to get near 
 him, to be of what assistance I could to a 
 man so noble ; but before I could extricate 
 mvself from the throng, he had already been 
 removed by his friends. I have since heard 
 he is doing well. 
 
 M. de Losme, in this conflict, was over- 
 whelmed with blows ; he fell pierced with 
 
 vol. i. H
 
 98 MR. BLOUNT r S MSS. 
 
 wounds ; and M. de Pelleport has at least 
 the consolation of reflecting that he secured 
 this excellent person from dying, even in 
 outward form, the death of a malefactor. 
 
 I have subsequently made inquiries re- 
 specting M. de Pelleport. I find that he 
 was imprisoned in the Bastille, some years 
 ago, for a political pamphlet which he had 
 published, and which was obnoxious to the 
 existing government. He was separated from 
 his wife and children, whom he was ob- 
 liged to leave in distress amounting to pe- 
 nury. A very touching anecdote is told 
 concerning this lady. She had made ap- 
 plication, through some of the governors, 
 to have two of her children taken into the 
 military school. One of them determined 
 upon personally investigating the merits of 
 the case, and called upon Madame de Pelle- 
 port for that purpose. She was seated in
 
 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 99 
 
 a miserable room, surrounded by four very 
 beautiful children, who clung to her, and 
 around whom, her arms were entwined. 
 Both the mother and the children were in 
 silence and in tears. As soon as Madame 
 de Pelleport saw a stranger, she rose has- 
 tily, and retired into another room to com- 
 pose herself. The general, moved by what 
 he had seen, questioned the children : one 
 of the youngest of them answered, " Mam- 
 ma says we must all die; because she has 
 had no money left for these two days, 
 since which we have had no food. We cry 
 because she must die with us." — This needs, 
 I think, no comment ; but I will add that 
 the general not only complied with the re- 
 quest which had been made to him, but gave 
 her a situation in the school also. 
 
 I have since been over the remains of the 
 h 2
 
 100 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 Bastille. The workmen are proceeding very 
 rapidly in the work of demolition. . 
 
 It is not true that there were, as it was 
 reported, any skeletons found, or any priso- 
 ners chained, or any instruments of torture. 
 The real horrors and atrocities of the place 
 were sufficient both to give rise to, and to 
 render needless, such exaggerations. At the 
 time of the surrender, the Bastille contained 
 only seven prisoners. One of them had been 
 there within three weeks of thirty years ! the 
 date of his entrance was on the 4th of Au- 
 gust, 1759- One poor creature, from the 
 length of his solitary confinement, has be- 
 come alienated in his mind. He has so long 
 
 * Mr. Blount here enters into an account of some 
 of the antiquities of the Bastille, and into a discussion 
 of the probable result of a more energetic defence ; 
 which would scarcely, I think, interest the reader at 
 this time of day. He then continues as above Ed,
 
 mr. blount's mss. 101 
 
 been cut off from all intercourse with his 
 species, that now, that he is restored to it, he 
 has no longer powers to enjoy it. 
 
 Thank God ! the system of lettres de ca- 
 chet is no more ! it never can revive again. 
 It is true that I am not a fellow country- 
 man to this people, among whom it has so 
 long existed; but, at all events, I am bound to 
 them as a fellow-creature ; and no one, with 
 a human heart within his breast, can fail to 
 rejoice at the annihilation of so dreadful an 
 engine of secret and silent tyranny. During 
 the last few days, the archives of the Bastille 
 have been open to the public, and the 
 parts of them which have already appeared 
 would, if I were inclined to so odious a task, 
 furnish me wath materials for a history, at 
 which human nature would shudder, and 
 which those who live in future times would 
 not believe.
 
 NOTE BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 The letters which, in point of date, should be in- 
 serted in this place, are so connected with the story and 
 fortunes of another person, that they would scarcely be 
 intelligible by themselves ; and a brief explanation would 
 not be sufficient to make them so. Having also in my 
 hands some further documents on this subject, of which 
 I became possessed through the same channel as of these 
 manuscripts generally, — I determined upon throwing the 
 whole into the form of an independent narrative, in- 
 serting only such letters as migh^fall in with, and ad- 
 vance, the tone and progress of the story. Some parts 
 of it will also tend to the developement of Mr. Blount's 
 character, though the main interest of the piece rests 
 on the feelings and the fate of another.
 
 THE STORY 
 
 BLANCH DELVYN.
 
 THE STORY 
 
 BLANCH DELVYN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " If marriage should be always the consequence of 
 mutual love, what would become of the prerogative of 
 parents, and their authority over their children ?" 
 
 Don Quixote, translated by Motteux. 
 
 In the daily papers of the month of May, 
 1786, appeared the following paragraph: — 
 
 " MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE. 
 
 " Yesterday was married, by special licence, at St. 
 George's, Hanover Square, the Right Honourable the 
 Earl of Montore to Blanch, only daughter of James
 
 106 
 
 MR. BLOUNTS MSS. 
 
 Delvyn, Esq. of The Grange, in the county of Kent. 
 The nuptials were celebrated with all the splendour 
 fitted to the high rank and vast possessions of the noble 
 bridegroom, and were attended by all the members of 
 both the families at present in town, as well as by a 
 chosen number of distinguished friends. Before the ce- 
 remony, a splendid breakfast was given by Mr. Delvyn ; 
 and, at its conclusion, the happy pair left town in a cha- 
 riot and four, to pass their honey-moon at the seat of 
 the bride's father, in Kent. The splendour of the equi- 
 pages and appointments attracted particular notice, as did 
 the dress and extreme beauty of the blushing bride. "We 
 understand the bridal veil alone cost a thousand guineas." 
 
 Among the numberless paragraphs of a 
 nature similar to the foregoing, which, to- 
 wards the close of our London seasons, 
 crowd the columns of the fashionable news- 
 papers,- — in which every thing is described as 
 radiant with joy, and happiness, and accom- 
 plished love, — how many are true? If the 
 altar of St. George's Church could speak, — if 
 it could describe the various tones of agony 
 and suppressed despair in which many of 
 the vows breathed before it are uttered ; — if
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 107 
 
 the trembling limbs and quivering lips, as- 
 cribed to virgin diffidence, — if the tears which 
 are laid to the account of filial or sisterly sen- 
 sibility, — if all these were traced to their real 
 causes, — if this description were exactly 
 made, — I fear the answer to be given to the 
 question I have proposed would include a 
 fearfully small proportion of the aggregate 
 mass. 'If St. George's altar could speak' — 
 alas ! how many are there who sigh and 
 shudder at the idea ! How many are there 
 who look to the scene which took place there, 
 with wonder at their own nerve, which, pre- 
 pared as it had been, supported them through 
 its course ; — who thank the conventional opi- 
 nions I have alluded to above, for the pro- 
 tection and shelter which they gave to the 
 emotions which it was impossible wholly to 
 suppress ! The ' Revelations of St. George's 
 Altar* would, indeed, be a chapter in the
 
 108 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 history of English society, which would lay 
 bare as many pangs of strong suffering, — 
 which would open vistas into as many and as 
 gloomy paths of crime, and its attendant 
 agony and remorse, as do the records of the 
 coarser iniquities and grosser passions chroni- 
 cled in the calendars of Newgate. The suf- 
 fering is of a more exalted nature ; the crime 
 of a more refined and less revolting cast ; 
 but I question whether the guilt can, in 
 strict justice, be considered less. I am very 
 certain that the suffering is, in proportion as 
 it is finer and more polished, more cutting 
 and severe. 
 
 There cannot well be in nature two 
 things, so alike in externals, which are so 
 utterly dissimilar in essence and in fact, as a 
 reluctant marriage, and a marriage of mutual 
 affection. In the one, the inward heart re- 
 bounds in answer to the outward symbols — it
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 109 
 
 promises with joy and with truth. ' The 
 marriage-vow is only an embodying into 
 words of its own fondest and most ardent 
 wishes. The happiness, and the gaiety aris- 
 ing from happiness, — (a feeling so different 
 from mere and common gaiety, that a word 
 ought to be invented to express it,) — are in 
 unison with its inmost feelings, and seem to 
 be caused by them, from their very super- 
 abundance and excess. The bride quits a 
 happy home, in happiness, and to greater 
 happiness. 
 
 But, the reluctant bride — what a contrast 
 do£s her heart present ! The vow she makes 
 seems to her as an insult and a mockery ; 
 she swears that she will love a being towards 
 whom her feelings are little short of hate. 
 Bitterness and disappointment rankle within 
 her heart. Every word of the ritual is a 
 step in her progress towards despair. It
 
 110 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 closes — and happiness is cut off from her for 
 ever. The altercations relative to the mar- 
 riage itself, have of late shaken even the 
 early feelings of her filial love, and of her 
 youthful home. The subject began in fear 
 and anxiety ; it continued in sorrow and in 
 pain ; it has now reached its climax in agony 
 and in despair. How is it that hearts do not 
 burst in the intensity of the conflict ? 
 
 By what I have said, my readers will rea- 
 dily surmise that the paragraph I have 
 quoted came under the more numerous 
 class, — that the marriage which it recorded 
 and announced was an ill-assorted and un- 
 willing one, — that it began in anguish to one 
 party, and ended in bitterness to both. 
 They would be quite right. The marriage 
 was an ill-assorted one; for the characters of 
 those who formed it were wholly dissimilar ; 
 their tempers were different ; and the attach-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. Ill 
 
 ment (I can scarcely call it love) on one side 
 was repaid, not with distaste merely, but 
 with contempt also on the other. Woe to 
 the marriage in which a disdainful feeling 
 exists on the woman's side ! — woe to him to- 
 wards whom it is felt ! — double, treble, ten- 
 fold woe to her who feels it ! 
 
 In Blanch Delvyn this feeling existed, and 
 strongly. Her good qualities and her bad, — 
 her talents, her attainments, her beauty, her 
 warmth of feeling, — all would lead to it alike. 
 If she had had less ardour of sentiment, and 
 less strength of mind, she might probably 
 have been as unhappy ; but tins feeling of 
 scorn for him she was about to marry, almost 
 for herself, because she was about to do so, 
 would not have existed. She would have 
 been wretched ; but pride would not have 
 soured the milk of human kindness within 
 her breast ; she would not have had, as she
 
 112 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 now had, a sort of feeling of being at war 
 with all mankind. This may appear to be 
 an exaggerated expression ; but the sensa- 
 tion of dereliction, of non-community of feel- 
 ing, which every woman in her situation 
 must experience, becomes in a strong and 
 proud mind the angered and embittered sen- 
 timent which I have ascribed to her. 
 
 I may almost say, indeed, that a thorough 
 revolution had been operated in her charac- 
 ter by the progress and completion of this 
 match. She was a person formed for enjoy- 
 ment ; of a gay temper, as well as of great 
 capabilities of happiness. If she had married 
 a man whom she esteemed and loved, those 
 capabilities would have been called forth and 
 satisfied ; and the gaiety and brilliancy of 
 temper would have remained. She was, in- 
 deed, originally one of the most fascinating 
 and delightful persons in the world. She
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 113 
 
 was extremely lovely, though not of a calm 
 or regular style of beauty. She was of 
 shorter stature than the most perfect standard 
 for a woman ; but her form was exquisitely 
 cast, combining lightness, and delicacy of 
 outline, with the brightest and richest fill- 
 ing up. To the gay and buoyant liveliness 
 of youth, she joined an archness, even an 
 espiegkrie of manner — a smile lurking in 
 the glance of the eye, and rippling upon the 
 beautiful lip — which betrayed a kind and de- 
 gree of talent seldom so much developed in 
 such early vouth. Yet he who would, from 
 these indications, have deduced that she al- 
 lowed the deeper and stronger feelings to 
 be drowned beneath the bright and sparkling 
 spray of wit and gaiety, would have been 
 far wrong indeed, in his estimate of her cha- 
 racter. On the contrary, she was one of that 
 class of persons — a class much more nume- 
 vol. I. 1
 
 114 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 rous than is generally supposed — who, being 
 naturally of joyous, elastic, and lively tem- 
 peraments, give their apparent energies to 
 the light surfaces of things ; and yet, who 
 possess, perhaps even more than, certainly as 
 much as, any other description of women, 
 the fire of strong feeling always burning be- 
 neath these bright but less ardent corusca- 
 tions — awaiting only object and occasion to 
 call it into vivid (and to some, unexpected) 
 life. Women of this description are calcu- 
 lated, in a most eminent degree, to give and 
 to experience happiness, if united to a man 
 whom they love, and whom they respect ; 
 but they are also calculated to experience 
 and to cause the most extreme misery, if 
 they be bound to a husband whom they 
 dislike, and hold in slight esteem. 
 
 That poor Blanch's marriage was ill- 
 assorted, will be sufficiently apparent, when I
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 115 
 
 say that Lord Montore is universally repre- 
 sented to have been a man of limited parts, 
 of cold sullen temper, and of reserved haugh- 
 tiness of manner, without either solidity or 
 elevation of character to bear it out. There 
 could not, by possibility, have been found 
 qualities more repugnant than these to the 
 open generous spirit, the warm feeling, and 
 unguarded maimer, the lively and ready 
 wit, and the keen strong sense of ridicule, 
 of Blanch Delvyn. She held him lightly 
 for his want of sense ; she laughed at him 
 for his pompous assumption of it ; she de- 
 spised him for his narrow and undignified 
 ways of thinking ; she hated him for his 
 morose and clouded temper. Was not this 
 marriage ill-assorted ? 
 
 That it was unwilling on her part — that 
 it took place in direct consequence of the 
 repeated, the incessant urging of her father,
 
 116 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 a needy, worldly man, — who loved his daugh- 
 ter warmly when his own interest or ease 
 did not intervene; but who sacrificed her, 
 without a pause or scruple, when they did — 
 consoling himself with the idea, which did 
 not even deceive him, that she had made * a 
 great match ;' — that her consent to the mar- 
 riage was wrung from her by his importu- 
 nities, is apparent throughout all her letters 
 — and, indeed, would seem to have been sus- 
 pected pretty generally by all who had any 
 opportunity of judging. The following are 
 the expressions of Mr. Blount, who was an 
 eve-witness of the ceremony — they differ 
 somewhat from those of the public account. 
 
 *? * * * There were a great many 
 people at breakfast, — too many, I think ; but 
 the tone of the whole thing was display and 
 faste ; which, you know, Lord Montore 
 likes, and Dclvyn has no objection to. I
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 117 
 
 suspect the bride was of my way of think- 
 ing on the subject ; for she did not eat a 
 mouthful, nor speak a word, and looked 
 like fifty ghosts roused from their graves 
 for judgement. There she sat, w ith an un- 
 touched morsel upon her plate ; looking as 
 white as her own veil, and as silent and mo- 
 tionless as a statue. You might almost have 
 taken her for one, indeed, if it had not been 
 for the colour and motion of her fine dark 
 eyes, which spoke — Heaven only knows how 
 many feelings and passions ! — Sorrow, and 
 anger, and a little bit of scorn, and a large 
 bit of dislike (hate is not a pretty word) ce- 
 mented and jointed by something not very 
 distant from despair. Was not this a nice 
 medley for the expression of a bride's eyes, 
 upon her wedding morning? Seriously, I 
 pitied her from the bottom of my heart. 
 It is plain she values that empty, pompous,
 
 118 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 sulky lord of her's at his just price; and 
 that, I think, is a sufficient load of unhap- 
 piness for the shoulders of nineteen. I had 
 not seen her for a year and a half: she was 
 then the gayest, most agreeable, fascinating 
 creature imaginable ; — all animation and fire, 
 a great deal of wit, and an infinity of most 
 varied conversation. Now she looks as if she 
 had become a she-Trappist, and was under 
 a vow never to speak or smile again. If you 
 had but seen the look she gave M., as he 
 handed her into the carriage to go to church, 
 you would have said there was no necessity 
 for her speaking. Any thing so expressive 
 I never beheld ; and how Lord M. did not 
 interpret it, is past my comprehension. But 
 that fellow is as impassive and impenetrable 
 as if he were cut out of ice : — it must be the 
 ice of muddy water, you will say, — and 'faith 
 I think so.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 119 
 
 " Well, sir, we went through the streets, 
 all covered with favours ; ourselves, and our 
 carriages, and our servants, and our horses ; 
 ' all very grand and fine," as the story-books 
 say. Do you know, I almost feared some 
 explosion during the ceremony ; but poor 
 Blanch was too statue-like for any such thing. 
 She was like an automaton, wound up to go 
 through a certain succession of movements, 
 and not able to stir out of the arranged set 
 till it was over. I am sure, she had, by dint 
 of strength of mind, screwed herself and her 
 nerves up to a certain extent of endurance ; 
 and endure it she did, — just bowing at 
 the responses, and receiving the congratu- 
 lations (!) of her friends afterwards also with 
 silent and almost unconscious bows. Whether 
 she fainted on her way down into the country 
 with her bridegroom, or not, as I was not 
 bodkin, I cannot say ; — but all went oft* very
 
 120 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 decorously in church ; and ' the happy pair 1 
 were boxed up together in their post-chaise, 
 and off they whirled. I thought, as they 
 drove off, that there had been enough done 
 that morning, to cause a heart-ache here- 
 after to more than her who feels it now. 
 And yet I don't know — Blanch has ex- 
 cellent principles ; and I never heard of her 
 having any attachment elsewhere. That 
 would, indeed, have completed it. 
 
 " Delvyn carried it all off swimmingly. He 
 could not but know in his heart, that he 
 was acting the part of Agamemnon, at a 
 sacrifice worse, because more lasting, than 
 that of Iphigenia ; and yet nothing could be 
 more smirking and unconscious, and full of 
 happiness and family biemeances, and all the 
 stock paraphernalia and mummery of a happy 
 father. — Pah ! such selfishness and hypo-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 121 
 
 crisy really almost sours one with the world, 
 and casts a bitter colouring upon society. 
 D. has not even the excuse of being in love ; 
 which, I suppose, Lord M. would tell you he 
 is — Lord help us !"
 
 122 MR. BLOUNT'S MS3. 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 " Nurse. Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I 
 nursed : 
 An' I might live to see thee marry'd once, 
 I have my wish." 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Mr. Blount was perfectly right in his 
 conjecture, that it was only by a strong 
 effort of self-command that the bride sup- 
 ported herself through the ceremony which 
 sealed her fate. She had schooled herself to 
 it by preparation and looking onward, that 
 she might not betray any degree of emotion 
 derogatory to the respect she owed herself. 
 She succeeded, as has been shown, in the 
 repression and concealment of these feelings ; 
 but, like the fox of the Spartan boy, they fed
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 123 
 
 upon her very vitals from the effort. And, 
 when seated in the carriage by the side of 
 her bridegroom, — when to have given vent to 
 the tears, which now almost choked her, 
 would have been a relief for which she would 
 have given worlds, — she still exerted this vio- 
 lent effort of self-control, lest she should 
 expose her weakness before him by whom 
 these sorrows were caused. More powerful 
 than the Danish king in the tradition, she 
 bade the tide of emotion to go no further, 
 and it stayed. 
 
 There could not have been selected anv 
 place wherein to pass the 4 honey moon" 1 so 
 little acceptable to Blanch as that to which 
 they were now going. Lord Montore had 
 no place within an easy distance of town, 
 which had caused Mr. Delvyn's to be chosen. 
 But tin's had been Blanch's early home: 
 here she had passed all the happy days of
 
 124 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 her life ; the thousand associations and ties 
 of childhood were intertwined with every 
 thing around. The nursery in which she 
 had spent her happy infancy, the " own 
 room 1 ' in which she had passed her still hap- 
 pier youth, — all the memorials and the effects 
 of her education, and of the enjoyments 
 which she had derived from it — her music, 
 her books, her drawings — all these remained 
 in the apartment which had been her's, just 
 as they were accustomed to meet her eye on 
 her return home every summer. Alas ! un- 
 der what different auspices did she return 
 home now ! Home ! it was no longer her 
 home. She was here, now, as a transitory 
 guest, — not in the home of her youth, of her 
 heart. Recollections, it is true, still bound 
 her to it ; but hope was gone for ever. She 
 shuddered to look forward ; she dreaded to 
 look back ; the present afforded no green
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 125 
 
 spot to rest upon. The waters of unhappi- 
 ness rose around her on every side, and there 
 was no ark to save her. 
 
 Blanch was much beloved at the Grange. 
 She had taken advantage of the opportunities 
 of a dame de paroisse, to be the means of ex- 
 tensive benevolence, and, what is still more 
 appreciated by its objects, of personal kind- 
 ness to the poor of the neighbouring village. 
 Through this village she had now to pass. 
 Its inhabitants had been informed that ' Miss 
 Blanch' had made a great marriage, and was 
 coming to spend her newly-wedded days 
 among them. Accordingly, at the extremity 
 of the village, Lord and Lady Montore 
 were met, and preceded through it, by a 
 troop of young girls, scattering flowers before 
 their path, and breathing blessings, both 
 6 loud and deep,' upon the bride. The bells 
 pealed out as merrily as the stoutest arms in
 
 126 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 the parish could pull them ; the old people 
 came out before their doors, and waved their 
 hats, and cried c God bless her V as the car- 
 riage passed. Every thing was jubilee and 
 joy, except poor Blanch's heart ; — that was 
 aching and dark indeed. 
 
 At first she endeavoured to acknowledge 
 these testimonies of kindness and attachment, 
 by smiles, and bows, and thanks ; but, with 
 every step that they advanced, the effort be- 
 came more and more painful and difficult, 
 and at last too much for her altogether. 
 Evening was fast closing in — it was something 
 more than dusk, and she took advantage of 
 the failing light to draw her veil close over 
 her face — to throw herself back into a corner 
 of the carriage — and, for the first time giving 
 way to her feelings after the long and ha- 
 rassing day, to weep without restraint, pro- 
 fusely, bitterly.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 127 
 
 The circumstances of the moment would, 
 in any case, sufficiently account for her emo- 
 tion, to her companion ; — but the quality of 
 that emotion, the deep sinking of the soul, 
 the dark barrenness of prospect, the feeling, 
 in a word, of despair, which at last overcame 
 her long-preserved composure — these, indeed, 
 he was far from guessing, — he was incapable 
 of estimating at their just severity, if he had 
 guessed them. 
 
 It was with these feelings, that Blanch en- 
 tered the home of her early days. It was the 
 first time that any thing but gladness had 
 arisen from that return. The contrast and its 
 cause pressed on her heavily. That which 
 ought to be the beginning of a new era of hap- 
 piness to all — which is so, in fact, to many — 
 was to her the closing of that state for ever, 
 and the dawning of a different existence. 
 She was indeed, a ' Mourning Bride.' Only
 
 128 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 the year preceding, she had been bridemaid 
 to the chief companion and chosen friend of 
 her youth. That marriage was an happy 
 one ; — it was one of fond affection on both 
 sides, and there was no wounded prudence 
 to interfere with the choice of love. The 
 contrast between her marriage and that of 
 her friend had more than once struck her 
 already ; she felt this more fully than ever, 
 now that she was in a place where she had 
 enjoyed so much of that friend's society — and 
 where she had witnessed the progress of the 
 attachment, which had ended in an union so 
 happy. She had lamentably felt the absence 
 of the support of this excellent and amiable 
 person during the struggles she had lately 
 undergone. Her friend was abroad with her 
 husband; she had therefore had to support 
 the conflict in her own mind, solely by its 
 own strength, without any sympathy or aid.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 129 
 
 The honey-moon — the sweet month — was 
 to Blanch the bitterest of her life. A thou- 
 sand little circumstances, incidental to the 
 place where it was passed, excited and added 
 to those feelings of gloom and pain, whicli 
 had no need of extraneous aggravation. The 
 sentiment, hackneyed as the citation of its 
 expression is, # — 
 
 nessun maggior dolore, 
 
 Che ricordarsi del tempo felice 
 Nella miseria . .. ■ ■ . ■ 
 
 was always present to liter ; — nay, more ; for 
 the very scene of the ' past happiness was 
 that of the present pain. 
 
 It may be supposed fhat an event like the 
 arrival of a newly-married couple, and of 
 such a couple, gave plentiful employment to 
 
 * "When a phrase, or a passage, becomes hackneyed 
 by quotation, it is always, I think, in proportion to the 
 justness of the thought, and the felicity of the expression. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 the gossips of the village, old and young. 
 The bride was the daughter of ' the Squire ' 
 — the bridegroom was a Lord : — what more 
 could be needed to give zest to the con- 
 versation commonly incident upon a honey- 
 moon ? And yet it had additional inter- 
 est ; — for the bride had lived among them 
 from her infancy, and was deeply beloved 
 by all. The young child whom they had 
 petted, had grown in their affections as in 
 years ; and admiration, esteem, respect, be- 
 came mingled with their former love. She 
 had an open hand, and open manner, — which 
 latter quality doubles the former in attrac- 
 tiveness and value. She was ever ready, not 
 only to relieve, but to enter into, to appre- 
 ciate, to go along with, the sorrows and suf- 
 ferings of her humble friends. And, what they 
 prized nearly as much — what certainly was of 
 more fascinating, if not of such sterling value
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 131 
 
 — she was always wont, at seasons of gaiety, 
 to assist, to preside over, during her more 
 girlish years even to mix in, — the festivi- 
 ties of the time. To those of my readers who 
 have ever lived in the country, in England, 
 I need not say how eminently popular (in 
 its best sense) such a disposition was calcu- 
 lated to make her. My other readers may 
 take my word for it. Let them figure to 
 themselves any extent of it, and they will 
 not £o wron^. 
 
 Of course, it had been the wish and the 
 prayer of the good folks on whose feelings I 
 have been dwelling, that " Miss Blanch 
 should be well married. 11 Now, as it would 
 seem, she was well married ; and she had 
 come to pass her bridal days among them. 
 Many and minute, therefore, were the en- 
 quiries which were made in the lower re- 
 gions of the house, concerning the inmates 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 above; and great and anxious was the ex- 
 pectation with which the Sunday morning fol- 
 lowing their arrival was ushered in. Every 
 Sunday had Blanch, in her maiden days, 
 appeared in the family pew ; and, after 
 service, had a good-humoured word, or a 
 kind enquiry, for most of the group collect- 
 ed in the church-yard for her to pass. But 
 this Sunday she did not appear. 
 
 Great was the disappointment, and mul- 
 tifarious were the surmises to which this 
 unexpected circumstance gave rise. On the 
 second Sunday, however, she came. But, 
 as an old dame pithily observed, " she 
 might as well have stayed at home — for, 
 instead of Miss Blanch's sweet smiling face, 
 one could see nothing but white lace, bon- 
 net, and veil, and what not ; and, after 
 church, instead of the smile to one and the 
 word to another, as it used to be, she only
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 133 
 
 bowed, bowed, bowed, like the China figure 
 on the parson's mantelpiece : —if this comes 
 of getting married, I think she had better 
 have remained single, for my part." 
 
 Nor was this worthy gossip the only one 
 who felt, if they did not so loudly express, 
 disappointment at the change. The old 
 groom — one of those privileged fixtures, 
 which grow, like inseparable ivy, round the 
 corner-stone and roof-tree of the house — the 
 old groom felt somewhat indignant at his 
 pains being all thrown away in bringing 
 Titania, Miss Blanch's favourite mare, in- 
 to such superb condition to receive her as 
 My lady. " One might almost see one's face 
 in her coat," muttered old John despond- 
 ingly, one morning as he fed his beautiful 
 charge — " one might almost see one's face 
 in her coat, it's so smooth, and so shining, 
 and she's in the finest spirit and condi-
 
 134 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 tion that ever was, and yet my lady has 
 never once been on her back. Why, last 
 year, she had been half over the country 
 before she had been here so long. It's a 
 thousand pities ; for no lady in the land 
 has a seat on horseback to compare to her !" 
 But there was one, an old servant at the 
 Grange, to whom the feelings of all the rest 
 towards their young mistress were but as a 
 shadow — this was the nurse ! ' The nurse V 
 what a crowd of recollections cluster, in every 
 bosom, round that name ! It is, as it were, 
 the ball round which all the threads of early 
 feeling and affection are winded. That heart 
 must indeed have been hardened by the 
 current of the world, which does not soften 
 at the remembrance of its nursery days ! 
 How often do we paint to ourselves the 
 quaint and antiquated figure which an- 
 swers to that name in our memories respec-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 135 
 
 tively ! — and, with a mingled smile and sigh, 
 think of her indulgence, and her fondness, 
 and her authority so often rebelled against, 
 and her stories so often repeated, yet still 
 so eagerly asked for and listened to, — in 
 short, of all that cloud of atoms, small in 
 themselves, and unregarded at the time, but 
 which in riper years forms one of the chief, 
 and certainly one of the purest and the 
 best of the treasures of our heart's memory ! 
 I never should feel any respect for that 
 heart in which such feelings had no ex- 
 istence. 
 
 But the feelings on the other side are al- 
 ways far stronger and deeper. They are pro- 
 bably the most powerful, short of maternal 
 love, which exist in the human bosom. In 
 England, it is true, the feeling of fosterage is 
 by no means so strong as it is among the 
 Scotch, and the Irish especially. Among the
 
 136 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 latter, indeed, I question whether it does not 
 sometimes exceed even the love of offspring 
 itself, — extreme as, in those ardent natures, 
 that affection always is. In the present in- 
 stance, however, the foster-feeling was of an 
 intensity by no means common. Blanch had 
 been old Sarah's only nursling in the family. 
 Being an only child, her undivided care and 
 love had been devoted to her ; and, as Mrs. 
 Delvyn died during her daughter's infancy, 
 the minor duties of maternity had devolved 
 upon, and been fulfilled by her nurse. She 
 had been her attendant, indeed, till about two 
 years previous to the period of which I am 
 speaking ; when the late hours of a London 
 season necessitated Blanch to have some one 
 about her younger and less infirm than poor 
 old Sarah had now become. She was, there- 
 fore, settled in a cottage, stored with every 
 comfort, within a quarter of a mile of the
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 137 
 
 house ; and if there be any truth in the de- 
 scription I have given of Blanch's disposition, 
 I need not say how constant a walk it was to 
 " Nurse's Cottage." 
 
 Every year when Blanch went to town, the 
 old woman blessed her at parting ; and, in 
 true accordance with the spirit of the dear old 
 sisterhood, her chief, her first, her last wish 
 was always the same, and expressed in very 
 nearly the same words, as that which I have 
 quoted as the epigraph to this chapter. 
 
 Sarah's wish was now accomplished. She 
 had seen her young mistress, her * child,' as 
 she was accustomed to call her, and to feel 
 towards her, — she had seen her married, and 
 greatly, and nobly. Yet I question whether, 
 after a short time, she would not rather have 
 repealed its accomplishment, had so doing 
 depended on her will. With that gift of 
 intuition which women, especially of her age
 
 138 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 and office, have into such matters, she had 
 not seen her young lady thrice, before she 
 was convinced that her feelings towards Lord 
 Montore were not, and never had been, 
 those of love. Of course, both the good 
 sense and good taste of Blanch induced her 
 to avoid the subject, with Sarah, as much as 
 was possible. But at such a time, and with 
 one who stood in the position to her which 
 Sarah did. it was not possible to do so en- 
 tirely : and what she did not say was fully 
 as influential as what she did, in guiding the 
 keen-sighted old woman to her conclusion. 
 
 A visit which the bride and bridegroom 
 paid her together, after they had been at the 
 Grange a few days, sufficed to remove any 
 doubt, if indeed any remained. I cannot 
 say that Sarah was at all prepossessed in 
 Lord Montore's favour. It is probably a 
 very unfair feeling, but it is one which un-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 139 
 
 doubted] y exists, especially in women, to have 
 but slender esteem towards a slighted lover — 
 and, bridegroom as Lord Montore was, Sarah 
 regarded him in that light. He addressed a 
 few sentences to her, which were meant to be 
 gracious ; but they lacked that freedom and 
 kindliness of tone and manner, which throw 
 completely out of view all appearance, of the 
 consciousness at least, of condescension. Now 
 Lord Montore seemed so perfectly aware of 
 the extent to which he was condescending, 
 that he ceased to be at all so in fact. — The 
 shew killed the reality. Still Sarah could 
 not but feel strong interest, if nothing else, 
 towards one in whose hands Blanch's fate was 
 placed. That which was to her the dearest, 
 the most valuable, the best of all created 
 things, was indissolubly bound to the man 
 who stood before her. He, then, was the 
 husband for whom she had so prayed for her
 
 140 
 
 dear lady ! Oh ! that he might be such a 
 one as she had prayed for. " My lord,"" said 
 she, " you are the most fortunate man in the 
 world ; it is your own fault if you are not the 
 happiest also. You cannot know, my lord, 
 as yet — no one can know, as I do, what a trea- 
 sure you have gained in my dear, dear child ! 
 Her heart and her temper, my lord, I know 
 even better than she does herself ; they have 
 not their equals in this world. I shall look 
 to you, my lord," continued the old woman, 
 assuming the playful authority to which her 
 age and former station entitled her — " I shall 
 look to you, my lord, for my child's happi- 
 ness : — you have a great trust ; I hope you 
 are conscious of it, and worthy of it : but 
 you must be both, or Miss Blanch would 
 not have married you. God bless you to- 
 gether r 
 
 The old woman used to tell the story of
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 141 
 
 this visit afterwards ; and she used to add : 
 " I thought, at the time, the match would 
 never turn out well ; for my lord did not seem 
 half to deserve her, and value her as he 
 ought to do : — and for her, poor thing ! while 
 I was speaking, she kept fondling and kiss- 
 ing my little grandchild ; — and when they 
 went away, I found the little girl was all wet 
 with tears — and she had not been crying, I 
 know."
 
 142 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Her feelings rnav be better 
 
 Shewn in the following copy of her letter." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 My readers must, I am sure, have anti- 
 cipated, to use old Sarah's words, that " the 
 match could never turn out well.'" They 
 will, I doubt not, expect the next act in 
 the drama of Marriage a-la-Mode ; — disgust 
 and repulsion on one side — wooing, fond- 
 ness, attraction on another — the struggle be- 
 tween duty and passion — between unassisted 
 principle and a tempted heart — the declining 
 effort — the ultimate fall .—all these things, 
 I doubt not, my readers expect now to find 
 detailed in full. If they do so expect, their
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 143 
 
 expectation will be balked. Among the 
 letters before me, there are many which re- 
 late to this portion of Blanch's life; but I 
 shall not give one of them, nor the substance 
 of one of them. It is not my purpose to 
 set forth the sophistry of the lover — so- 
 phistry, indeed, which, from the unalterable 
 nature of the case, is and must be so light 
 and frail, that one breath of common sense 
 would blow it into the air; but which, never- 
 theless, so constantly remains unshattered, 
 from its being the wish and endeavour of the 
 party to whom it is addressed to be de- 
 ceived ; — of this I shall not give one word. 
 Neither shall I represent the more dangerous 
 temptation arising from the contrast between 
 indifference, coldness, harshness — and the 
 fond, fervent, devoted, unremitting attention 
 and wooing, which were opposed to them. 
 My purpose in giving to the world this
 
 144 MR. BLOUNT 1 S MSS. 
 
 story is, not to furnish excuses for guilt, or 
 to picture the enjoyments of its indulgence. 
 On the contrary, it is to present the reverse 
 of the picture — a reverse always certain and 
 often speedy — to shew the result of guilt, even 
 as to temporal happiness, and in a case like 
 this, where some palliating circumstances may 
 fairly be said to have existed. The very 
 means and agent of the fault are the means 
 and agent of the retribution ; — truly, " the 
 crime carries the punishment along with it." 
 The reader, therefore, will please to sup- 
 pose about two years and a-half to have 
 passed since the honey-moon of which I have 
 presented the opening to him, in the previous 
 chapter. He will suppose that period to 
 have witnessed those gradations and changes 
 to which I have made brief allusion above. 
 With these impressions, he will be able to 
 understand, without farther preface, the fol-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 145 
 
 lowing letter. It is addressed by Blanch to 
 that friend of whom I have already made 
 mention; and, as a brief and yet full ex- 
 position of her feelings on the most im- 
 portant incident of her life, I prefer giving 
 it as it stands, to transposing its substance 
 into my own words: — 
 
 « Paris, 1788. 
 
 " You must, before this time, my dear 
 Margaret, have become acquainted with the 
 step I have taken. Its causes can need but 
 little explanation to you. You have known 
 them long. You have even forewarned me 
 of their present effect. I cannot, however, 
 leave my country for an indefinite period, pro- 
 bably a long one, without seizing the earliest 
 occasion of writing to you, who are almost 
 the only person whom I regret to leave there. 
 Dear Margaret, the recollection of the sepa- 
 
 vol. I. L
 
 146 mr. blount's mss, 
 
 ration which the course I was pursuing 
 would, in all probability, cause me from 
 you, operated as a check and a chill upon my 
 heart, at the moment I had determined upon 
 adopting it. But having taken my determi- 
 nation, I acted upon it at once. You know, 
 I am not very apt to delay in the one, when 
 once I have made the other. Do not think, 
 however, that I acted without consideration : 
 I may have determined and done wrongly ; 
 but certainly, neither hastily nor blindly. 
 I knew all that I must sacrifice, and yet the 
 sacrifice is made. Oh, Margaret I how little 
 did I, at one time, think that such a sacrifice 
 would ever have been needed^ from me ! — 
 how little did I think that my fate would be 
 what it has been! — but the die is cast — and it 
 is not I alone that have thrown it for myself. 
 My father — but I will not speak of him now. 
 I rejoice he has not lived to see this ; for
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 147 
 
 what would his reproaches to his own heart 
 have been! 
 
 " The wretchedness I have undergone for 
 the last year passes expression — I have not 
 expressed it, even to you. Constant dissen- 
 sions from petty and mean causes ; a coarse 
 mind displayed in coarser manners ; such was 
 the picture of my home; such was he to 
 whom I was linked — to whom, thank Heaven ! 
 I am linked no longer. He is a rich man, 
 he is a man of rank — for this my father chose 
 him ; he is a man of no feeling, of small 
 sense, and less education ; of low tastes and 
 habits ; of sullen and obstinate manners ; of 
 contracted and cold heart ; for this I loathed 
 him — for this I have left him for ever ! 
 
 " I never loved him ; I never could have 
 
 loved him ; but if I could but have esteemed 
 
 him, though ever so little, I should have been 
 
 contented. Nay, if I could even have felt 
 
 l 2
 
 148 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 towards him that kindliness which mere good- 
 nature always excites, he never would have 
 had reason to complain of my conduct towards 
 him. Whatever feelings I might have had 
 to repress — whatever temptations I might 
 have had to struggle against, I icould have re- 
 pressed them ; I should have prevailed in the 
 struggle. But the heart and the temper of 
 this man were as unfeeling and as clouded, 
 as his mind was coarse and mean. What 
 hope could there be (happiness I do not 
 take into the account, but) of peace with 
 such a man ? If he had possessed either 
 good sense or good feeling, the one might, 
 in some degree, have compensated for the 
 absence of the other ; but, equally destitute 
 of both, there was no help nor hope indeed. 
 Heaven can bear me witness, that, on our 
 marriage, after the first agony of disappoint- 
 ment and despair was past, I tried to make
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYX. 149 
 
 the best of my fate and of his. But I found 
 no one spot, in either his mind or his heart, 
 whereon to build : all was equally barren, 
 inhospitable, and desolate. He knew that 
 my consent had been wrung from me bv my 
 father ; he knew that I had never misled him 
 as to my sentiments, or as to my opinion of 
 his. It was he, he alone, who had caused 
 this marriage, so hateful to me ; and yet he 
 resented my having married him without 
 loving him, as though it had been my own 
 free choice and deed. 
 
 " One aggravation of my lot, I was, how- 
 ever, spared ; I did not become the mother 
 of that man's children. I shudder when I re- 
 flect upon its having been possible. I almost 
 believe it would have destroyed the strongest 
 feeling of nature, maternal love, of which I 
 feel the capability so powerful within me: I 
 almost believe it would have destroyed this,
 
 150 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 if he had been the father of my child ! At 
 all events, the conflict between the opposite 
 feelings would have been extreme. You can 
 scarcely conceive — you, who are so blessed in 
 your home — how much I dreaded it ; how 
 thankful I am for having been spared it. 
 
 " Of the choice I have now made I need 
 not speak to you. You saw the commence- 
 ment of our attachment ; you warned me 
 against its increase. Had you, my kind 
 and constant Mentor, remained in London, 
 I know not how it might have ended. As 
 it is, I cannot wish it had ended otherwise. 
 Were the step to take again, I would take 
 it. The regret which cuts me to the heart 
 is, that we did not meet sooner — that, before 
 we met, I was forced into that accursed — (I 
 can use no milder phrase) — into that ac- 
 cursed marriage. 
 
 " Our present plans are to remain at this
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 151 
 
 easy distance from England, till the bars 
 wlm-h arc still between us shall have been 
 removed. We have reason to hope this will 
 be in a short time. We shall then, proba- 
 bly, proceed on our travels. Meanwhile, 
 write to me ; I am sure you zcill write to 
 me, dear Margaret. I shall, indeed, be 
 anxious till I see your dear hand- writing once 
 
 Such was the letter which this unhappy, 
 misguided creature wrote to her dearest 
 friend, on her elopement from her husband's 
 house. I need scarcely warn my readers 
 against supposing that I concur in its self- 
 blinding sophistry. I only set before them 
 her own statement of her own conduct, 
 and its motives : — its consequences have 
 yet to be told. Poor Blanch ! she indeed 
 deceived herself — she looked onlv to one
 
 152 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 side — to what she would escape from, not 
 to what she would have to endure. She 
 was exactly the woman to whom the con- 
 sequences of such a step would be the most 
 bitter. The very strength and pride of her 
 spirit would make them so the more. The 
 slights and scorns of the world are in a ten- 
 fold degree galling to those who despise it ; 
 nay, in the very proportion in which that 
 contempt is strong and sincere, is the feeling 
 of humiliation at being condemned and 
 shunned by the very objects which excite it. 
 And the world, in such cases, makes no dis- 
 tinctions ; it draws no lines ; it will see no 
 differences. Indeed it cannot see (and it 
 would not care to do so, if it could) the 
 peculiar circumstances in any individual 
 case. It knows only what is done ; and not 
 what has led to the doing. The ultimate 
 act is apparent to all ; the propelling and
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 153 
 
 palliating causes are hidden from all — except 
 from those whose hearts would have guessed 
 them without it. In Blanch's ease — but I 
 will not forestall the current of my story. 
 
 I do not purpose to set before my readers 
 any thing relating to the period which imme- 
 diately followed her divorce, and second mar- 
 riage. It was, probably, since her first, the 
 happiest she had known. How long this 
 happiness lasted, and what caused it to cease, 
 will be seen in the next chapter.
 
 154 MR. BLOUN'fs MSS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 My peace is vanished, 
 
 My heart is sore." — Faust. 
 
 [The following are the letters of Mr. Blount to 
 which I alluded in the note prefixed to this 
 story. They are dated in the summer subse- 
 quent to that in which the last extract from 
 his Diary was written.] 
 
 "Spa, August—, 1790. 
 " My dear Frewix, — 
 
 # # * * 
 
 " Who do you think is here ? One of whom 
 vou have often heard me speak with strong 
 admiration and deep pity ; whose qualities 
 formerly seemed to me so fascinating ; whose 
 fate has inspired me with such painful inte-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 155 
 
 rest. In a word, on my arrival here, almost 
 the first names I saw in the subscription 
 book were those of Mr. and Mrs. Lumley ! 
 I doubted at first whether or not I should 
 go and see them. I had always had a sort 
 of lounging London acquaintance with him : 
 how well I knew her some few years ago, 
 you are fullv aware. At first, I feared that 
 she might not like to see, in her present 
 situation, a friend of her early years, and 
 that it was better to avoid the painful remi- 
 niscences which the renewal of such an ac- 
 quaintance could not fail to occasion. But 
 again, I thought, that as she certainly would 
 know that I was here, she might believe that 
 I shunned her in her fallen state from those 
 cold, heartless motives, which have given 
 rise to the proverb, " A friend in need." I 
 have no wife either, the necessary conside- 
 ration for whom might restrain me from act-
 
 156 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 ing as good feeling would naturally prompt ; 
 so I went to see Lumley and his wife. 
 
 " It is now about five years since I first 
 knew her. I passed some weeks, in the sum- 
 mer of 1785, at her uncle's house in the 
 country; and you know how rapidly ac- 
 quaintance ripens into intimacy in such so- 
 ciety. This was the year before she mar- 
 ried ; but Lord Montore was also there, and, 
 though it was quite evident she hated him, 
 I saw how it must end. Her father was in 
 embarrassed circumstances, and Montore was 
 rolling in wealth ; and it was plain that she 
 would be another sacrifice to Mammon. 
 This perhaps gave her additional interest in 
 my eyes ; but she was abundantly interesting 
 without any such extrinsic aid. She was of 
 a bright French style of beauty, with the 
 most sparkling gipsy eyes that ever were 
 seen — coal-black hair flying in every direc-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 157 
 
 tion over her deep clear cheeks, and a mouth 
 where the very spirit of archness and buoy- 
 ancy seemed to have chosen his home. And 
 yet there was an occasional cloud passed over 
 the sunshine of her countenance — si a dark 
 hour," or rather a dark moment, which, 
 while it now and then lessened the vividness, 
 added vastly to the interest, of her beauty. 
 As the French say, elk avait de T esprit 
 comme un demon — her wit flashed always 
 with brilliancy, and often with keenness, or 
 perhaps rather, to use another French word, 
 with malice. But, in conformity with the 
 beautiful index of her mind, at times a 
 touch of true nature and feeling would send 
 the tears springing to her eyes, and a sigh 
 struggling to her throat, which shewed that 
 all this gaiety and brightness covered, but 
 did not destroy, sentiments, or the capability 
 of sentiments, far warmer and deeper, — that
 
 158 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 this lovely casket was not without its jewel 
 of price — a heart. 
 
 You can well understand that such a 
 being was calculated strongly to impress 
 a very young man, such as I then was ; 
 and there were additional circumstances 
 which added to these natural causes. In the 
 first place, I thought that few or none of 
 those around her understood her as I did. 
 They seemed to regard her merely as a gay 
 glittering creature, calculated to shine in 
 worldly society ; or, if some of them had any 
 higher idea of her, it was merely on account 
 of the wit which they had felt, and conse- 
 quently dreaded. I, on the other hand, saw, 
 as I have said, the existence and the value of 
 her less apparent qualities ; which gave me 
 a sort of self-satisfaction with my own sa- 
 gacity, and for which (as I did not fail to 
 let it appear to her) she felt flattered and
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 159 
 
 gratified. The northern coruscations which 
 exist only in the coldest atmosphere, and the 
 summer lightning which springs from heat, 
 are to the unpenetrating eye almost undis- 
 tinguishable from each other : what most 
 thought belonged to the frozen zone, I clearly 
 saw was caused by far warmer temperature. 
 But, notwithstanding all this, I was not in 
 love with her : and, in despite of vanity, I 
 well knew that she was not in the least so 
 with me. The truth is, that at that time I 
 had " other tow on my distaff," — I was in 
 love with somebody else, and she was aware 
 that I was so. This caused me to know her 
 far better — I may almost say it made me 
 more intimate with her — than if there had 
 been the blindness of love on my side, and 
 the embarrassment of love on her's. She 
 saw that I appreciated, esteemed, and valued 
 her ; she knew that the attention I paid her
 
 160 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 was totally free from selfishness, and she 
 was more frank and trusting to me, in con- 
 sequence, than it would otherwise have been 
 possible for one of her sex and age to have 
 been to one of mine. I certainly should have 
 been in love with her, if it had not been for 
 the particular circumstances to which I have 
 alluded ; and she was quite conscious of this, 
 which served to add cordiality to the un- 
 reserve of our intercourse. We used to take 
 long walks and rides, in which she was en 
 
 tiers with and me. I believe she was 
 
 the only person in the world who would not 
 have been Madame de Trop to both of us. 
 It was at these times chiefly, that those in- 
 dications of deeper thought and feeling would 
 break forth. Speaking in general terms, she 
 would inveigh with all the bitterness of an- 
 ticipated misery on what I plainly saw she 
 meant would be her own lot. Then again
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 161 
 
 she would pass her hand across her brow, 
 and tossing back her floating hair, as if in 
 so doing; she shook these gloom v thoughts 
 from her, as a horse flings the water from 
 his mane, she would burst forth with all the 
 wildness of spurred spirits (if I may so speak) 
 into some of her gayest and most brilliant 
 flights — as if the sky-bird could foresee its 
 being encaged, and soared more loftily in the 
 air to enjoy it to the full, while it teas free. 
 
 " I never have seen her but once since; 
 and that was at her marriage with Lord 
 M on tore. From what I have said, you will 
 readily conceive that I was more pained than 
 surprised when I heard it was about to take 
 place ; and again, I was more pained than 
 surprised when I afterwards heard of her 
 elopement and subsequent divorce. 1 say 
 that I was not strongly surprised at this last 
 occurrence, not from there being the slightest 
 VOL. I. if
 
 162 MR. BLOUXfs MSS. 
 
 degree even of levity in her conduct or man- 
 ner, still less in her mind, but because I 
 thought that she too nearly resembled the 
 simile to which 1 have likened her above — 
 the wild bird of the heavens — not to break 
 through a cage, which to her, I well knew, - 
 would be insupportable. It would have in- 
 deed caused me the very greatest surprise if 
 I had heard of her being guilty of any mis- 
 conduct, and that she remained with her 
 husband ; for I was certain that whatever 
 might be her errors and her faults, conceal- 
 ment and hypocrisy would never rank among 
 them. 
 
 " I went, accordingly, to call on the Lum- 
 leys. When I entered the room, he advan- 
 ced towards me, and took me by the hand ; 
 feeling, apparently, grateful for my coming 
 at a moment, and in a place, where they were 
 in a certain degree shunned. He did not
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 163 
 
 say this, however, in direct terms, but his 
 manner, I thought, indicated it ; for it had 
 that grace and suavity which no one knows 
 how to assume better than himself when he 
 chooses ; but which he by no means always, 
 or even generally, does choose to assume. 
 In the mean time, she had risen from the sofa, 
 on which she was sitting, and had come for- 
 ward a step or two to meet me. She wore 
 a large bonnet, with lace hanging down from 
 the edge, which partly overshadowed her 
 face ; but, as I fixed my eyes upon her, she 
 glanced at me one look, and much, indeed, 
 did it speak. It seemed as if in that moment 
 the retrospect of years passed across her mind 
 — that she thought of her state when she 
 knew me last — of the intervening time — of 
 her present condition — and as if she knew 
 that the same train of thought must be then 
 in my mind also, and entreated me to judge 
 m ?,
 
 164 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 her kindly, and to spare her. It takes long 
 to describe, even imperfectly as I have done 
 it, the concentrated expression of that look ; 
 but it was the work of a moment. It passed 
 away as suddenly as it had appeared ; and 
 as she stretched out her hand to me, she 
 smiled brightly, and spoke fluently, to wel- 
 come an old friend. But this was only the 
 lip-greeting; the other was the recognition 
 of the heart. 
 
 " I found her a good deal altered, and 
 yet not as I had anticipated she would be. 
 I thought she would have been pale and 
 sunken, and that her wild spirits would have 
 been changed into debility and sadness. But 
 it was not so. Her person, undoubtedly, 
 was wasted ; but, instead of yielding to this, 
 she concealed, in great measure, by the little 
 arts of dress in which women are so skilled, 
 the work of grief upon her beautiful form.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 165 
 
 Her cheek was a little fallen in, but there 
 was a delicate tint of rouge, which prevented 
 its paleness from being apparent, and yet 
 was too slight, and too skilfully applied, to 
 show that it was strongly needed. There 
 were some points, however, which spoke more 
 plainly. The lips were thin, and had lost 
 both their colour and freshness ; and the eye, 
 — true revealer, let what will be said, of the 
 mind, — showed, like the surface of water, 
 the clouds which passed over the spirit ; 
 and when it did flash and shine, it was plain 
 that it was by effort, not spontaneously. 
 
 " She talked much, and with great liveli- 
 ness ; but said nothing of old times. She 
 spoke of Spa, and its rides, and its waters ; 
 and where they had been to on the Conti- 
 nent, and where they were going to — of 
 Italy, of Germany, of the Rhine. — In short, 
 her conversation would have been indicative
 
 166 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 of gaiety and enjoyment, had it not appear- 
 ed that she feared to pause lest remembrance 
 should intrude — that by unceasing talking of 
 the present she hoped to exclude the past. I 
 could not help thinking, also, that she stood 
 in great fear of her husband. She looked 
 towards him once or twice, as if in dread 
 lest he should think that she was committing 
 herself, and that she would suffer severely 
 for it, as soon as they were alone. He was 
 extremely civil and even courteous to me ; 
 but there was, in his general manner, a 
 strong tinge of moroseness exceedingly per- 
 ceptible, which, as I had heard, and, indeed, 
 partly had seen, was inherent in his disposi- 
 tion, and now seemed aggravated by the cir- 
 cumstances of their situation. I should not 
 have thought Lumley a man much calcula- 
 ted to have gained the affections of one like 
 her ; but having once done so, I can very
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYX, 
 
 16' 
 
 well understand that his influence over her 
 would be great. He is a fine dark-looking 
 man, but his eve has a sternness which is 
 even unpleasant, and there is an expression 
 about his mouth which plainly bespeaks ill- 
 temper. At the same time, he is undoubt- 
 edly a person of a powerful and cultivated 
 mind ; and I can perfectly conceive that it 
 might be extremely seductive to a brilliant 
 and sensitive creature, such as she was, to 
 perceive his haughtiness of manner changed 
 towards her into a softness and deference, 
 which are doubly effective when practised by 
 one to whose ordinary manners they are 
 foreign. But, however this might have been, 
 it is certain nothing of the kind exists now. 
 He spoke to her once or twice with a sharp- 
 ness evidently restrained only by my pre- 
 sence ; and I could see her shrink, when he 
 fixed his eye upon her, in a manner which
 
 168 
 
 ME, BLOUNT 3 MSS. 
 
 shewed how much she dreaded his severity — 
 I fear I ought to say, unkindness. 
 
 " When I went away, she again shook me 
 cordially by the hand, and hoped that we 
 should meet often while I stay here ; and 
 L. expressed himself to the same effect, gra- 
 ciously enough. To-day I received from 
 him an invitation to dinner next week ; and 
 I certainly shall go, for I truly am deeply 
 interested concerning her. I fear she is very 
 unhappy. There never was a woman in her 
 situation, who was not more or less so ; but 
 I am afraid that she has none of those con- 
 solations and alleviations of her fate, which 
 spring from the fondness and devotion of 
 him for whom she has incurred it. Of all 
 women, I should think her the least able to 
 
 bear a lot like this. With such ardent af- 
 
 • 
 
 fections and keen feelings, it must, indeed, 
 be dreadful to meet with unrequital, " after
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 169 
 
 all that has come and gone." But, perhaps, 
 I am doing him injustice. What I saw may 
 be merely the effect of temporary ill-humour ; 
 and the disposition to generalize, of which 
 you have so often accused me, may have led 
 me into giving it more importance than is 
 fairly its due — I hope it may be so.
 
 170 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 As the pure mountain air becomes too pure 
 For feeble lungs to breathe, so the sick heart, 
 
 In its poor sensitiveness , cannot endure 
 
 To look on Nature in her pride : — the smart, 
 
 "Which the great healer, Time, alone can cure, 
 
 Shrinks from those sights of grandeur, which impart 
 
 To healthful spirits, joy, and peace, and love 
 
 For fellow, man, and rev'rence for Above ! 
 
 Axon - . 
 
 My readers are, by this time, sufficiently 
 well acquainted with Mr. Blount to see what a 
 very dangerous feeling such pity as his must 
 have been towards a woman like Mrs. Lurnley. 
 And that pity was much increased as he 
 came to mix more in her society. He found 
 that his anticipations were but too true, or 
 rather that they had fallen far short of the
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 171 
 
 reality. After a little time, he began to 
 live with the Lumleys a great deal. L., 
 as it seemed, was wearied with the seclusion 
 in which they were, in a degree, compelled 
 to live ; for, of course, they were not visited 
 by married people ; and the men who would 
 willingly have come, were not always ex- 
 actly those that he chose to receive. He 
 felt this a good deal ; and it caused, very 
 much, that fretfulness and moroseness which 
 speedily became undoubtedly apparent. He 
 had been accustomed to live in society — he 
 had shone in it ; and had enjoyed, as much 
 as any man, the successes, to use a French 
 idiom, though not a French word, which he 
 had met with there. When, therefore, his 
 marriage secluded him from it, and the first 
 flush of passion, which for the time repaid 
 him, had passed away, — he began to feel, and 
 then to show that he felt, the sacrifice he
 
 172 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 had made ; — for he wanted heart. I say that 
 he wanted heart; for, gracious Heaven ! what 
 must that man be who shews that he feels 
 his petty sacrifice, if it deserves to be called 
 so, to her who has abandoned all for him ! 
 But so it was ; and poor Blanch was, of all 
 women, she who would feel it the most. 
 This, indeed, became soon manifest. 
 
 Mr. Blount became, as I have said, a con- 
 stant guest at the Lumleys 1 , and Blanch and. 
 lie renewed their former intimacy. It is 
 true, they spoke little, in direct terms, of the 
 time they had passed together ; but as they 
 named the mutual friends who had contri- 
 buted to render that period such a happy 
 one, the mind could not fail to revert to the 
 days themselves. Retracing together, at a 
 comparatively distant period, former inter- 
 course, — is a far stronger tie of union than 
 even the intercourse itself was at the time;
 
 STOItY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 173 
 
 or than its recollection would primarily seem 
 to justify. But so it is : it is a point of com- 
 munity which makes the present intimacy 
 greater than that which is its subject and 
 its cause. And thus it was in the present 
 instance. 
 
 It is the custom at Spa to hire the moun- 
 tain-ponies of the place, and take long rides 
 through the beautiful environs, over the 
 stony roads of which these little creatures 
 make their way with a security and rapidity 
 which our English horses could not master 
 on such ground. Mr. Blount used frequent- 
 ly to ride in this way with Lumley and his 
 wife. By degrees, Mr. Lumley began to re- 
 main at home, well pleased, as it would seem, 
 to be a free man for a few hours, and contented 
 that she should go under their friend's guar- 
 dianship. These tetes-a-tttes were, at first, 
 rather irksome to both parties ; but after
 
 174 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 one or two of them had passed over, they 
 became not only unembarrassed, but delight- 
 ful. It almost seemed as if they had retro- 
 graded to the happy times when they were 
 friends before, and that the clouds and storms 
 of the intervening time had passed away, as 
 though they had never been. But they had 
 been : passion had been busy with the hearts 
 of both of them; and shame, likewise, had 
 mingled largely in her lot. 
 
 The country around Spa is beautiful ; it 
 is also of a very peculiar character. It con- 
 sists, for the most part, of steep and abrupt 
 hills, wanting, it is true, the height, but still 
 having, in great measure, the character, of 
 mountains. They are, generally, clothed 
 with wood, and abound in little valleys, or 
 rather " laps of land," with a pebbly brook 
 brawling through the bottom, and bordered 
 by narrow stripes of smooth green turf, in-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 175 
 
 tervening between it and the wood. The 
 paths which intersect this country are small 
 and tangled, as wood-paths usually are; but, 
 perhaps, on the very account of their gloom 
 and boundedness, they give greater effect to 
 the bursts of splendid prospect on which you 
 frequently emerge, and even to the still, 
 green, basins, if I may thus use the word, 
 of which I have spoken. An air and a feel- 
 ing of solitude, without desolation, reign 
 among theso hills, which are peculiarly sooth- 
 ing and softly impressive. The breath of 
 Nature awakens her delicate echoes in the 
 heart, and ripples, but does not agitate, its 
 surface. In scenes of sterner and more vast 
 character, the pressure on the mind is of a 
 sort from which many of us seek to escape ; 
 for none but hearts of the most perfect peace- 
 fulness and purity can bear to meet and to 
 analyze the sensations which are there inspired.
 
 176 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 But in places of more gentle beauty the mo- 
 ral effect is of a correspondingly milder cha- 
 racter. The calls for feeling are less strong 
 and deep, and need, consequently* less com- 
 mand of heart (if I may thus speak) to an- 
 swer them. 
 
 It was through such scenes that their rides 
 commonly lay ; and latterly, as I have said, 
 they were nearly always alone. Lumley's 
 tastes were not at all of this kind, and he seem- 
 ed happy to have one to take his task off his 
 hands. It is strange that he did not perceive 
 what a very dangerous arrangement this must 
 be for all parties ; but I imagine that selfish 
 people see nothing beyond the gratification 
 of their own immediate convenience, and are 
 blind, and, therefore, indifferent, to what 
 may be the eventual consequence. For Mr. 
 Blount, it is very possible that he might see 
 the danger, but he turned his eyes from it,
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 177 
 
 as men are always apt to do from any disa- 
 greeable truth. The fact, if it must be spo- 
 ken, was that, by this time, he had begun to 
 feel his former (ay, more than his former) 
 interest and delight in Mrs. Lumley's soci- 
 ety ; and, alas ! how difficult it is to deny 
 ourselves these things when they are thus 
 offered to the taste. 
 
 But I will let him speak for himself: all 
 description of feeling is 5 and must be, cold 
 and imperfect, in comparison with that in 
 the mouth of him whose feelings are de- 
 scribed : — 
 
 u Our intimacy, by degrees, became per- 
 fectly renewed. She was still, in her best 
 moments, very much what she had ever been. 
 It is true that her spirits were, at the first, 
 nearly always forced ; but then, as all who 
 have been under the necessity of forcing their 
 spirits well know, this leads, in a short time, 
 
 vol. i. N
 
 178 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 to a real flow, if not of true gaiety of heart, 
 at least of real cheerfulness of manner : as 
 those who excite themselves by wine, raise 
 their vivacity by an artificial stimulant ; but 
 the vivacity so raised, is, for the time, real. 
 But her dark hours were now more frequent 
 and continued ; the oppression of leaden and 
 gnawing unhappiness weighed upon her, 
 worse, far worse, than the most violent ago- 
 ny of spirit — for that must be short-lived in 
 proportion to its violence. The one is like 
 the bitterness of an inflicted death ; the 
 other is like the ' merciless mercy"* of chang- 
 ing that death into perpetual imprisonment. 
 " Thus did her soul seem sinking in the 
 thraldom of enduring sorrow. The almost 
 inexhaustible buoyancy of her nature, aided 
 by the youth she still possessed, made her 
 struggles to throw off this moral incubus 
 frequent, and for the time effectual. It was.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DF.LVYN. 179 
 
 during such moments especially that she re- 
 minded me of her former self. One token of 
 the uncontaminated goodness and amiability 
 of her heart was, that, after all she had 
 undergone, the turn and quality of her wit 
 were in no degree made more acrid. This 
 is, indeed, most rare ; for scarcely ever do 
 we find a person possessing strong powers 
 of wit, who has undergone suffering, — still 
 more, suffering which includes disgrace, — 
 who is not soured and virulent, as it were, 
 in revenge. But it was in no degree so 
 with her. Her vivacity was at times even 
 playful, though that playfulness would be 
 immediately clouded and saddened by a 
 shade passing over the brightness of her 
 eyes, — by a sigh being checked just as it 
 had become perceptible. 
 
 " As, however, we grew more familiar 
 and unreserved, her endeavours to assume 
 N 2
 
 180 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 gaiety very visibly relaxed. She gradually 
 made less and less exertion to conceal the 
 real state of her mind ; and, though she 
 never actually spoke of her sorrows, yet the 
 tone of her conversation, and the complex- 
 ion of her topics, became sadly assimilated 
 to her situation. I thought too, as I closely 
 watched her in Lumley's presence, that her 
 fear of him, which was at all times appa- 
 rent, was sometimes mingled with an expres- 
 sion as much of angry and even indignant 
 reproachfulness > as it was with love. It is 
 very certain that, with a proud woman, such 
 conduct as I every day more and more 
 plainly perceived his to be, will at last de- 
 stroy even the warmest and fondest affec- 
 tion. Such constant wounds to the just 
 self-appreciation of such a woman, will, in 
 the end, dispel that illusion of love, which 
 prevents these things being viewed in their
 
 8T0RY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 181 
 
 true light. There is no woman who can 
 bear slight"; still less is it to be borne by 
 one of high qualities and gifts, who has 
 incurred guilt and degradation for the sake 
 of him who slights her. 
 
 "One day, after I had been about a 
 month at Spa, I was out with her on one 
 of the rambles I have described. Lumley 
 had been more than usually cold and careless 
 in the excuse which he made for not accom- 
 panying us ; and, as we parted from him, 
 I saw a flash of mingled indignation and de- 
 spair gleam for a moment in her dark bright 
 eyes. When she set off, however, she seem- 
 ed, by a sudden effort, to shake away the 
 feelings which had been excited ; and her 
 conversation became more animated, rapid, 
 and even eloquent, than I had almost ever 
 before heard it. But it was also more evi- 
 dently unreal. Her cheek became flushed
 
 18£ mr. blount's mss. 
 
 with what may be termed a lurid, rather 
 than a brilliant, red ; and her eye was 
 lighted up with an almost unnatural fire. 
 Both her appearance and manner betokened 
 that false and feverish state of mind, which 
 seeks refuge from pain by a forced, forcible, 
 and unremitting direction of its powers to 
 indifferent and extraneous subjects. By 
 6 unremitting' I mean that hurried and un- 
 natural passing from topic to topic, which 
 you must have often witnessed in such cir- 
 cumstances, and which seems to be occasion- 
 ed by a dread that the slightest, even a mo- 
 ment's, pause would at once throw back the 
 mind under the control of that one feeling 
 from which it is using such violent efforts 
 to escape. But not the conversation only, 
 but the whole bearing and demeanour of 
 persons thus influenced, are abrupt, start- 
 ling, and (I must repeat the word) unreal.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 183 
 
 Thus, after we had gone some way, whilst 
 she was in the midst of a most animated 
 conversation, — quite on a sudden, and with- 
 out the slightest notice to me, — she struck 
 off nearly at full speed, and continued, in 
 despite of the difficulties of the ground, to 
 ride at that pace till a very precipitous de- 
 clivity obliged us at last to pull up. 
 
 " As we went down the hill, her saddle 
 became loose, fastened, as it was, with the 
 miserable tackle of the country ; so, when 
 we got to the bottom, I lifted her off her 
 horse, that I might re-adjust it. The valley 
 into which we had descended was one of the 
 most beautiful of those spots of enclosed 
 solitude of which I have endeavoured to give 
 you some idea. # While, therefore, I was 
 
 * It will be seen that the earlier portion of this chap- 
 ter, though given in the third person, was taken di- 
 rectly from Mr. Blount's Correspondence. Ed.
 
 184 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 busied with her horse, she sat down on the 
 green bank of the stream, which formed al- 
 most a natural throne ; and, when all was 
 ready for her again to mount, she said she 
 was tired, and would rest there before she 
 went on. I tied the horses to a tree, and sat 
 down beside her. 
 
 " I never saw her look so beautiful as 
 she did at that moment. The excitation of 
 her false spirits had passed away ; but the 
 flush of the cheek remained, as if to give 
 brightness to a picture that would otherwise 
 have been too gloomy and uncoloured. The 
 eye, indeed, spoke the re-action which had 
 taken place within; and an air of mingled 
 pain and listlessness pervaded the whole of 
 that speaking countenance. Her riding-hat 
 was partially thrown back, and her dark hair 
 (to which the exercise had given that half- 
 curled flowingness, which is so much more
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DfcLVYN. 185 
 
 graceful than its appearance when accurate- 
 ly dressed) floated over the warm cheek, 
 brought out in strong relief by that tint of 
 crimson beauty. As I seated myself by her 
 
 side, I was, I own, sufficiently moved by 
 these appearances. The locale also was 
 well suited to give additional effect to such 
 sensations. The sun had begun to decline, 
 so that the whole of the narrow valley was 
 in shade. The day had been intensely hot ; 
 and the contrast of the coolness and repose 
 of this lovely and lonely spot sank deliri- 
 ously upon the senses, and through them 
 upon the heart. It seemed, indeed, like a 
 green palace of refreshment and of rest, shut 
 out by the wooded hills from the hot and 
 garish world without. 
 
 " We sat for some time in silence — I was 
 gazing on her, and she was gazing on the 
 water, as it bubbled past her feet. But she
 
 186 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 was conscious of my gaze. On a sudden, she 
 said, — ' Do you remember that evening 
 when we stood together by the brook, in the 
 
 grounds at M ? — But we were not alone 
 
 then — Julia was with us." — She fixed her 
 eyes upon me as she spoke, and I believe 
 that, long as I have given up blushing, I 
 coloured a little ; inasmuch as this was by no 
 means the exact recollection which I wished 
 to raise in her ; but I answered that I re- 
 membered it perfectly. — ' And do you re- 
 member our conversation also T 
 
 " ' Yes ; I recollect likening you to the 
 stream — springing and glancing in the bright 
 sun, and giving life and freshness to the 
 whole scene through which it passed.' 
 
 " ' Ah,' she added, * and I completed the 
 parallel. I said it was like me, because the 
 rocks which struck and bruised its bosom 
 were the very causes of its motion and glitter-
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 187 
 
 ing ; — I said it was like me, because, after 
 being tended and adorned, and having every 
 aid and adjunct bestowed upon it while it 
 was of service or embellishment to the rich 
 man's domain, — it was allowed to glide away 
 amid thorns and difficulty, and darkness, the 
 moment his end was answered. Alas .'—little 
 did I think at that moment how awfully my 
 prophecy would be fulfilled ! — I knew that a 
 dark fate awaited me, but I could not expect 
 this — I expected unhappiness, but not guilt — 
 I awaited sacrifice, but not shame — and 
 
 now ! ' She stooped her head upon her 
 
 hands, and the gushing tears sprang through 
 the interstices of her fingers, the veins of 
 which seemed darkened and swollen almost 
 to bursting. 
 
 " I paused during the first burst of agony ; 
 and then took her hand, and spoke to her 
 in the voice of consolation. c Oh ! Mr.
 
 188 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 Blount P she exclaimed, 6 how I have loved 
 that man it were vain to speak ; my actions, 
 my actions have shewn it. I gave up for him 
 my friends — I abandoned for him my home — 
 I incurred for him guilt — I became for him 
 
 ' her voice grew deeper and almost hollow 
 
 as she spoke, ' the object of scorn and burn- 
 ing shame — and how am I requited P 1 She 
 paused for a moment, and then continued — 
 6 You cannot know, it is impossible for you 
 to conceive, what I have suffered, what I 
 suffer: fretfulness, and coldness, and in- 
 difference, and neglect. He seems, too, as if 
 it were he who had made the sacrifice, not I — 
 as if it were to him that it had cost every 
 thing that can give life a value ; — and once," 
 
 here again her voice sank, and her frame 
 
 shook, ' and once, he almost upbraided me 
 
 with being what I have become for him V 
 
 " My heart bled within me to see this lovely
 
 STOUT OF BLANCH DELVYN. 189 
 
 creature in her agony ; it warmed towards 
 her more than ever it had before done ; it 
 hurried me, by the circumstance of the mo- 
 ment, into more than my natural and real 
 feeling. ' And what,' she continued, ' what 
 have I to look to? — a life like this is too, 
 too dreadful ; and I am not fit to die I 1 
 
 " It is very easy, my dear Frewin, for mo- 
 ralists, seated quietly in their closets, to 
 expatiate upon the guilt incurred by passion. 
 In the coolness of their blood — in a position 
 free from all tempting, — it may seem an easy 
 thing to them to keep on the even tenour 
 of their way — to walk without dread or chance 
 of falling. But an occasion like that which 
 I have been describing, when it happens in 
 real life, is, I believe, almost more than the 
 most stoical can come through blamelessly. 
 I will confess that the temptation was too 
 strong for me, — and — I forget the words in
 
 190 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 which I spoke — but I know that I had not 
 spoken for two minutes before I found myself 
 urging her to trust her happiness in my 
 hands — to seek an asylum in my heart and 
 home. I spoke, as I fancy most men do in such 
 circumstances, rapidly, and with warmth ; — 
 she listened without answering a word. At 
 last, when I had ceased, she said, — ( No ; 
 that can never be now. Time was when we 
 might have loved each other — but that, in 
 despite of what you say, is passed for ever in 
 both of us.' I was going to interrupt her, 
 but she went on, — e Yes, in both of us ; the 
 bloom of her heart is gone — it is the force of 
 circumstance which now misleads you — we 
 never can love each other as both deserve to 
 be loved — it can never be !' I felt the truth 
 of this to my very heart, and I remained 
 silent. c I am unhappy,' she continued, 
 6 I am most wretched — but I have chosen
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DF.LVYN. 191 
 
 my lot, and I must endure it as best I may. — 
 Come," said she, rising up, and collecting 
 at once, as it were, both mental and physical 
 strength, — ' come — we have been here long 
 enough, too long, perhaps — let us be going. 1 
 I helped her upon her horse, and we pro- 
 ceeded homeward. We spoke but little, and 
 that little was on quite indifferent matters. 
 
 " The next morning I received from her 
 a nace, which you will find enclosed : the 
 consequence was that, the day after, I af- 
 fected sudden business to call me away, and 
 I left Spa.* I had, I will confess to you, 
 a very considerable struggle with myself 
 before I could resolve on this step. If I had 
 remained, there can be small doubt, after 
 what had passed, that, in the end, I should 
 have prevailed. But, alas ! to what purpose 
 would it have been ? There is but one thing, 
 • This letter is dated from Lausanne. Ed.
 
 192 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 which can in the very least palliate miscon- 
 duct of this kind — it is the most entire and 
 uncontrollable affection; and this, as she 
 most truly said, we never should have felt 
 for each other. On my part, it was pity, 
 and old remembrance, and the craving of a 
 heart use, (I will not say usage,) which led 
 it morbidly to such occupation and excite- 
 ment ; — on hers, it was old remembrance 
 also, and present despair, and the rebut- 
 ment arising from ill-requital ; — but on nei- 
 ther side was it, nor would it have become, 
 enthralling and unmingled love. If the mat- 
 ter had been to be decided on the moment, 
 and in her presence, I am far from thinking 
 that I should have reasoned thus coolly and 
 well — but she wrote instead of speaking to 
 me — and I had time to pause and think. 
 When once I had made my resolve, I acted. 
 I wrote to her immediately — the tenour of
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 193 
 
 my answer you can conceive. I anticipate, 
 my dear F., what you will say to me 
 about my folly and imprudence; but, be- 
 lieve me, no one can be more thoroughly 
 aware of them than I am. No one can re- 
 joice more truly at my escape, both from 
 very great unhappiness on my own score, and 
 from drawing additional misery (for so it 
 certainly would have been) on the head of 
 one already so miserable. 
 
 " When I went to take leave of them, and 
 to tell Lumley of my purposed departure, 
 his wife was in her own room, and remained 
 there till she knew my visit must be drawing 
 towards a close. She then came down ; 
 and when L. said to her, — ' Only think, 
 our friend Blount is going to leave Spa; 
 do persuade him to stay,' she gave me a 
 look of affectionate gratitude, which was 
 more sweet to my heart than any triumph 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 194 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 could have been, had she been the compa- 
 nion of my journey. She played surprise very 
 ill — which gratified me ; for it confirmed me 
 in my belief that, whatever her faults might 
 be, no circumstance could ever have made 
 her a hypocrite. She looked very pale, and 
 was wholly without rouge ; her hair was fast- 
 ened straight back from the face without 
 curl, which added to her abbattue appear- 
 ance. She spoke very little, but she looked 
 in a manner which again almost shook my 
 resolution; for she seemed to be thinking 
 that, when I was gone, she should have none 
 left in the world who loved her. I wonder 
 L. suspected nothing — for there was a con- 
 sciousness in the manner of both of us, which 
 could scarcely fail to be apparent. But he 
 did not — or, if he did, he concealed his sus- 
 picion perfectly. 
 
 " When I rose to go, I took her by the
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 195 
 
 hand, and said a few sentences of as much 
 kindness as the presence of Lumley would 
 permit. She answered me in the same way ; 
 but she pronounced the word friend in atone 
 which went to my soul. L. and I parted 
 cordially enough, in appearance ; but my 
 heart smote me for my hypocrisy, in thus 
 speaking fairly to a man against whom my 
 
 indignation was so great ; — but ainsi va-' 
 
 " As I left the house, I looked up to her 
 windows. She was there — she smiled to me 
 as she kissed her hand ; but tears swam in 
 her eyes, and belied the expression. I turned 
 the corner which shut her from my sight- 
 When shall we meet next ? 
 
 THE ENCLOSURE. 
 
 " I have determined to write to you, be- 
 cause I am sure you will not misconstrue my 
 o 2
 
 196 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 so doing. After what has passed, it is bet- 
 ter, far better, for all parties, that we should 
 cease to meet. There is only one way to 
 insure this ; which is, that you should leave 
 this place. It is to entreat this kindness of 
 you that I write to you now. In what you 
 said to me this morning, you were led away 
 by the circumstances of the moment to say 
 far more than you feel, or can feel. Indeed, 
 you could not but become conscious of this, 
 on a moment's reflection. No ! I repeat now 
 what I said to you at the time — we never 
 can love each other as alone we would con- 
 sent to be loved. You see the confidence I 
 have in your honour and good feeling by 
 writing thus; but, having that confidence, 
 it would be a paltry affectation, from which, 
 at least, I always have been free, not to 
 speak^with perfect frankness, and explicitly, 
 as I speak at all. No ! — I never can love
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 197 
 
 ■you as alone you would be willing to be 
 loved. My heart is spent, exhausted — it has 
 lavished all its feelings upon one object ; and 
 though that love has been ill-requited in the 
 same degree as it should have been the re- 
 verse, still the gift has been made — it lias 
 left me with no more to give. When I 
 placed my whole happiness, and hopes of 
 happiness, in his hands, I well knew the step 
 was irrevocable. I knew it was taken once 
 and for ever; and, although I little looked 
 to its proving what it has proved, I feel as 
 strongly as at first, that it was, is, and must 
 be ' once and for ever' still. Neither could 
 you love wze, as alone I would be loved. You 
 have loved too often — vou have used your 
 best affections too much and too frequently, 
 ever again to feel a passion, such as at one 
 time (you see I am indeed frank) might have 
 existed between us. Recollect that, to-day.
 
 198 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 / remembered Julia, though you had for- 
 gotten her. You deceived yourself for a 
 moment — by this time, I am sure, you feel 
 it was only for a moment. 
 
 " But friendship — strong, real, delicate 
 friendship — I am confident you do feel for 
 me ; and I am confident, also, that you will 
 acknowledge that it can best be shewn by 
 acting as I now request you. If I had a 
 lower opinion of you than I have, I should 
 not write thus, lest you should construe the 
 request that you should go, into a disguised 
 wish that you should stay. But I know your 
 nature ; and I know that it is above either 
 feeling or imputing a littleness. I feel that 
 I can speak to you frankly and from the 
 heart, without the shackles of those conven- 
 tional half-falsities which usually clog and 
 degrade the communication between your sex 
 and mine. Let me hear from you one line,
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 199 
 
 to communicate your determination ; I have 
 no fear as to what it will be. 
 
 " And now, God bless you ! — it has given 
 me more pain than probably I ought to confess 
 to you, to determine as I have done ; for I 
 feel that I am sending from me one who, de- 
 solate as I now am, has feelings of truer 
 kindness towards me than any I have known 
 for a long time. We shall probably never 
 meet again ; but, believe me, I shall always 
 remember that I have had in you a friend, 
 who has ever, in good report and ill report, 
 done me more than justice ; and has now 
 felt with the tenderness of a feeling heart, 
 and the warmth of a friendly one, for the 
 unhappiness of the lost, wronged, heart- 
 broken creature, who now bids him farewell 
 for ever. — Once more, God bless you ! 
 
 ** Tuesday Evening."
 
 5200 MR. BI.OUNTS MS*. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " The faltering speech — the look estranged — 
 Voice, step, and life, and beauty changed." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 'Whether or not Mr. Blount was correct 
 in his belief that, ' if he had remained, he 
 should have finally prevailed 1 — I leave it to 
 my readers individually to judge. It is cer- 
 tain that, by making the request that he 
 should go, Mrs. Lumley betrayed a con- 
 scious fear of his power if he stayed ; or, as 
 a friend of mine, who saw the original letters, 
 observed, " By saying she never can love 
 again, she proves she half can. ,, But my pur- 
 pose in giving at length this portion of the
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 201 
 
 correspondence, was to shew the effect of 
 the first blunting the delicacy of the moral 
 feeling in the female mind. It is evident that 
 Blanch was here in danger of a second fall ; 
 a crime so repugnant to our ideas of moral 
 interest, that scarcely any fictitious writer has 
 ever ventured upon its delineation ;* and 
 from even this distant approach to which I 
 should have forborne, if I had been compos- 
 ing an imaginary story. It is true that, by 
 her own strength of mind, and by the good 
 feeling of the other party, she did not draw 
 very near to the precipice ; but neither was 
 her escape so triumphant as to place her 
 above the reproach of having been in danger. 
 Truly, indeed, did she describe herself to be 
 desolate and heart-broken ! Her first mar- 
 
 * I must except 31. Benjamin Constant's novel of 
 Adolphe, a work in which a singularly intimate know- 
 ledge of the female heart is embodied with great power 
 of language and of illustration.
 
 202 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 riage was unhappy from its being forced, un- 
 congenial, and ill-sorted : her second was un- 
 happier still, from the sense of guilt being 
 added to that of misery. In this instance, 
 she had chosen for herself; she had broken 
 through every tie, and sacrificed every advan- 
 tage, to obtain the object of that choice : here 
 she had no one to reproach but herself, save 
 only him, to condemn whom was to her the 
 severest of condemnations. 
 
 It is not my purpose to dwell upon Mr. 
 Lumley's conduct towards her. It is too 
 revolting to contemplate ingratitude and ill- 
 requital to such degree, and of such a na- 
 ture. Still this is, I believe, far from a sin- 
 gular case. There are, if rumour on these 
 subjects may be believed, existing instances 
 of ill-requital as severe, where the sacrifices 
 have been even greater. There is no need 
 to confine ourselves to the parties before us
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN- 203 
 
 for a strong and appalling confirmation of the 
 truth, that ' the crime carries the punish- 
 ment along with it." 
 
 For about a year after Mr. Blount left 
 Spa, in the manner I have shewn, the Lum- 
 leys continued to travel on the Continent — 
 their dissensions becoming daily more painful. 
 His moroseness and harshness increased, and 
 her health sank in proportion. It is not to 
 be supposed, indeed, that a creature so sen- 
 sitive as she was, could long endure so con- 
 tinued a conflict of the feelings, without very 
 materially and visibly suffering in bodily 
 health. And did not this touch his heart ? 
 Did not the decay of that lovely being, who 
 had sacrificed all for his love, strike him with 
 remorse for his unkindness, and change his 
 demeanour towards her ? Alas ! I am com- 
 pelled to answer, No. As the low spirits, 
 and perhaps the irritability, of illness became
 
 204 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 stronger in Blanch, he who had been the sole 
 cause of all — illness, and depression, and que- 
 rulous temper, — he shrank from enduring the 
 effects of his own actions ; — the effects in her 
 aggravated and reproduced their own causes 
 in him. And, as her beauty waned, that 
 beauty which had first attracted him, and of 
 which he had afterwards been so proud, he 
 seemed almost to consider its decrease as a 
 subject of blame to her, — as if it were the 
 effect of her own will, exerted to give him 
 displeasure. And such is man ! or, to speak 
 more justly — there are some men such ! 
 
 I proceed with real reluctance and pain to 
 state the result. Blanch was, at length, di- 
 rected by her physicians to pass the winter 
 at Nice, — her health, in fact, being too pre- 
 carious to pass it elsewhere. Will it be be- 
 lieved that, two days after their arrival there, 
 Mr. Lumley left her to come to London, on
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 205 
 
 a plea of urgent business ? Business !— what 
 business could be so urgent a duty, — what 
 business could be so sacred, — what business 
 ought to have been so readily undertaken, — 
 as that of tending, cherishing, and succour- 
 ing the sickness of her whose whole life, now 
 whose life itself, had been sacrificed to him ? 
 Mr. Lumley's adieux were made slightly 
 and hastily. If he had any touch of feeling 
 at this moment, it shewed itself only in his 
 avoiding its being too strongly called into 
 play. With her, the case was far different. 
 She leaned from the window as he got into 
 his carriage and drove rapidly away ; and, 
 when she had seen him turn from her sight, 
 she threw herself back upon a couch, and 
 wept unrestrainedly. She felt that she was 
 now alone in the world* That sensation of 
 isolation, which, even when slight and tem- 
 porary, is the most painful and depressing
 
 206 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 thing in the world, now struck upon her 
 heart in all its weight and coldness. Her 
 late treatment sank, for the time, from be- 
 fore her view ; and she thought only of the 
 man who alone had possessed her love — who 
 had called into action, in their fullest ex- 
 tent, those strong capabilities of loving, which 
 had been hidden and made dormant by her 
 former marriage. She had lavished on him 
 all the affections of a warm heart — all the 
 energies and admiration of a lofty and power- 
 ful mind. Her attachment to him had been 
 the destiny of her life ; — he was gone from 
 her, she felt, for ever. She was alone in the 
 world ! 
 
 Pride, womanly pride, that strong support 
 under similar circumstances, and which had 
 once existed to so great a degree in Blanch, 
 had now no power. It was chilled and weak- 
 ened by illness and long-suffering, — it sank
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 207 
 
 beneath the feeling of loneliness, as well as 
 of desertion, so icy, so paralyzing. Her heart 
 had no longer strength to be proud ; — it had 
 wasted with her bodily health, and was as 
 worn out as that. 
 
 Her health was indeed fast sinking. The 
 face was fallen, the eye was hollow, the form 
 shrunken. The slow fever of grief had preyed 
 upon her frame, and reduced it to its former 
 shadow. Who now would have known the 
 bright, animated creature, who answered to 
 the name of Blanch Delvyn ? Who would 
 have recognized in the pale, wasted, pre- 
 maturely-aged woman, the brilliant Lady 
 Montore ; who, in the whirl of society, had 
 endeavoured to lose sight of her repulsive 
 home — who was the \ observed of all ob- 
 servers," — the Queen, for a time, of the tran- 
 sitory kingdom of London Fashion ? Who, 
 even, could have traced, in what she was
 
 208 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 now, the mature and lovely woman, who, 
 made still more beautiful by accomplish- 
 ed love, had appeared on the Continent 
 with Lumley, as his newly wedded bride? 
 Alas ! she was totally changed from all these. 
 Their beauty had faded under the finger of 
 disease, — the brilliant and animated wit of 
 the two first, as well as the fine overflowing 
 fondness of the other, had become withered 
 under care and anxious suffering — they ex- 
 isted no more. Left by all, even by him for 
 whom she had left all, she was now tottering 
 to the grave without a companion to cheer 
 her— without a friend to listen to her suffer- 
 ings, to smooth for her the pillow of death. 
 
 The shock which she had sustained by 
 Lumley's departure, though it had been an- 
 ticipated, and though she had prepared her- 
 self for it, affected her severely. And, thus 
 additionally weakened, she had to undergo
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 209 
 
 another— not, indeed, equally trying to the 
 feelings, and of a totally different kind ; but 
 still which, situated as she was, was distress- 
 ing to her to a strong degree. 
 
 She was 0112 day walking on one of those 
 terraces looking to the South, which form 
 the distinctive character of the place, open- 
 ing its bosom, sheltered on all the colder 
 sides, to the soft Mediterranean, and its 
 warm sun and gentle breezes. The blue 
 sea contrasts agreeably with the white houses 
 and olivetrees of dusky green which stud its 
 shore; and the whole scene is lighted up by 
 that gladsome and genial southern sun, which 
 revivifies the sinking invalid, and retains the 
 vital warmth (almost beyond its time) in the 
 frame, chilled by the icy grasp of diseas e 
 and death. One day, after Mr. Lumley had 
 been gone some little time, Blanch was seat- 
 ed upon a bench of one of these walks, 
 
 vol. 1. p
 
 £10 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 gazing upon the fair scene before her, and 
 taking, as it were, her last last looks at 
 Nature, when a gentleman and a lady came 
 and seated themselves upon the same bench, 
 leaving but small space between them and her. 
 For a little time, the two parties did not 
 take any notice of each other. Blanch con- 
 tinued gazing upon the sea, and had scarcely 
 remarked the coming of her companions. 
 They had merely given a cursory glance to 
 her as they sat down, and for a time they 
 chanced to continue silent. At length the 
 gentleman made some observation to his 
 companion. The voice thrilled through 
 Blanch's frame, to her very marrow. She 
 smarted and turned round — it was Lord 
 Montore who was seated by her side ! 
 Wrapped in cloaks, and shawls, and veils, 
 she had not been recognized by him, to say 
 nothing of her changed appearance ; and of
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 211 
 
 him she had taken no notice, till his well- 
 known voice had roused her. She rose in- 
 stantly, and strove to walk onward, but the 
 revulsion had been too strong — a half-scream, 
 half-groan, struggled for a moment in her 
 throat, she sank backwards, and would have 
 fallen to the ground if Lord Montore (who 
 still did not recognize her, but had been at- 
 tracted by her exclamation) had not caught 
 her in his arms ! He lifted her veil to give 
 her air — and then, pale and changed, and 
 furrowed with grief and suffering, he beheld, 
 for the first time since she had left him, the 
 once-beautiful features of his wife. 
 
 I will not attempt to depict what his feel- 
 ings might be at that moment ; I have, in- 
 deed, no accurate means of judging; but 
 any one with a human heart in his bosom 
 must have been moved at seeing one whom 
 he had once loved, thus. Lord M. had mar- 
 p 2
 
 212 MR. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 ried a second time, and his present wife was 
 the lady now with him. She did not at all 
 know how to account for her lord's very evi- 
 dent, and very unusual agitation; but be- 
 fore she had time to satisfy her curiosity, 
 or he to recover from his surprise, Blanch, 
 who had fainted from weakness only, began 
 to come to herself, and she found herself in 
 Lord Montore's arms. 
 
 The situation was equally embarrassing 
 for both of them ; common humanity would 
 not allow him to leave her thus, and he 
 scarcely knew how to address her. Fortu- 
 nately, at that moment, Blanch's servant 
 approached with her carriage. She had only 
 got out to walk for a short time, and it now 
 drew near. With a few expressions, there- 
 fore, of thanks on one side, and of hopes of 
 speedy restoration on the other, they parted. 
 Neither said any thing to shew that the other
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 213 
 
 was recognized ; but both knew that they 
 both were so. 
 
 This incident made upon Blanch a strong- 
 er effect than the temporary indisposition 
 which it occasioned. Lord Montore, she 
 was conscious, must have seen her changed 
 state ; did he, could he, attribute it to its 
 real cause ?— This was the thought which 
 haunted her and preyed upon her. Some~ 
 times she thought that he would ascribe 
 her altered appearance to illness alone ; but, 
 then, he would know that Mr. Lumley was 
 with her no longer; and that would lead 
 him to the just conclusion. She felt like 
 the brave Douglas in the ballad, who ia* 
 ments, not for death, but that his succumb- 
 ing should have been witnessed by his ene- 
 my — " Earl Percy sees my fall f" was the 
 feeling which was uppermost and last in 
 his mind. " He will see that I am left in
 
 214 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 my turn," thought Blanch, " and that I 
 suffer from it more than he did. If he 
 knew all, he would see, that he is indeed 
 awfully avenged P ? 
 
 Blanch's health continued to decline. Her 
 health preyed upon her spirits, and her spi- 
 rits upon her health again. She heard from 
 Lumley briefly, coldly, and at long inter- 
 vals: and he never spoke of return. She 
 became weaker and weaker ; and at length 
 could not leave the house. What does it 
 avail to pause upon my story, and to shrink 
 from coming to its end ? Her strength 
 wasted by regular and rapid degrees. With 
 the exception of her servants, she had no 
 one to tend her illness ; with the exception 
 of her servants, she had no one to witness 
 and to soothe her death !
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 215 
 
 " By foreign hands her dying eyes were closed, 
 By foreign hands her decent limbs composed !" 
 
 Such was the end of Blanch Delvvn ! 
 
 j 
 
 But part of the lesson remains to be read ; 
 -—I shall add her last letter to Mr. Lumley, 
 and I shall add no more. Such things need 
 no comment. 
 
 " Before this reaches you, I shall 
 
 have ceased to be. My physicians, and my 
 own sensations alike tell me that I have not 
 many days to live. A crowd of things rush 
 upon my mind that I would wish to say to 
 you at this moment ; and yet I cannot 
 say them ; perhaps for their very number. 
 The feelings of the last years of my life 
 throng upon me together, and are mixed in 
 an undistinguishable and most oppressive 
 mass. Oh ! that you were here, that I might
 
 216 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 speak ; for I am too weak to arrange my 
 ideas consecutively, or even to put them 
 upon paper when I have done so. 
 
 " I will not upbraid you. You- must have 
 feelings of self-reproach which I would strive 
 rather to lighten than to add to. My life 
 was doomed to be unhappy — I was wretched 
 when first I knew you ; must I say that I 
 am more wretched, now ? Oh, Lumley, you 
 have cost me many a pang that I have pent 
 up within my heart — many that you must 
 have seen, and ought to have pitied ! — But I 
 have said that I would not reproach you, 
 and I will not. 
 
 " And yet, it is dreadful to die in this 
 way ! no friend near to comfort or console 
 me ; no counsellor to guide me, and I need 
 guidance so much !— I pray, and for the 
 time it calms me — but I would willingly not 
 have had to pray alone.
 
 STORY OF BLANCH DELVYN. 217 
 
 " Seek out Margaret for me ; and see her 
 once ; tell her how I longed for her to have 
 been with me at this time ; tell her that her 
 friendship has been the chief blessing of my 
 life ; and that I cling to it now at the last. 
 Give her one of my rings, the emerald one. 
 She gave it me, when we were both children, 
 and I have worn it ever since. Let her wear 
 it now. 
 
 " And now, Lumley, I am to bid you fare- 
 well ; I have written till I can scarce see the 
 paper before me ; / cannot, I cannot, say 
 farewell for ever ! Believe me, believe me ! 
 that, spite of all, my last word is, my last 
 thought will be — God Almighty bless you !" 
 
 END OF THE STORY OF BIANCH DELVYN.
 
 EXTRACT VII. 
 
 < The Rhine! the Rhine! be blessings on the Rhine! 
 
 [I now recommence my extracts from Mr. 
 Blount's AlSS.— Ed.] 
 
 Mayence, September, 1790.* 
 This Rhine is a magnificent thing cer- 
 tainly! Notwithstanding all I had heard 
 concerning it lately, it has, out and out, 
 surpassed my expectations. I certainly was 
 never so much struck and moved by mere 
 scenery ; but then I never before saw such 
 
 * Mr. Blount was, at this time, on his journey from 
 Spa into Switzerland, after the occurrences detailed in 
 his letters inserted in the Story of Blanch Delvyn. As 
 the reader has already been made acquainted with her 
 fortunes, I have purposely omitted any passages in this 
 portion of Mr. B.'s correspondence, &c. which may re- 
 late to her — Ed.
 
 2£0 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 scenery. Some mountain scenery may be 
 grander, some river views more rich and 
 rians ; but where else shall we find united 
 the busy throng of cities and commerce, the 
 highest state of fertility, wildness amounting 
 to desolation, and grandeur soaring to subli- 
 mity ? 
 
 The ' Valley of the Rhine,' through which 
 I have just passed, stretches from Bonn to 
 Bingen, a distance of about eighty miles. 
 The majestic and incomparable river accom- 
 panies you the whole way, while its banks 
 present every possible variety of interest and 
 beauty. In some places, the valley is nar- 
 row, with the hills rising like cliffs, from the 
 water's edge, rocky and bare ; but still with 
 the vine cultivated in every cleft and crevice 
 which has earth sufficient to give it root. In 
 others, the banks are more decidedly wooded, 
 and, here and there, they retreat some little 

 
 MR. BLOUNT S MSS. 
 
 221 
 
 way into a fertile and highly cultivated 
 valley. Villages and towns innumerable are 
 dotted along the shore ; and every now and 
 then the ruins of a fine old castle, perched on 
 some almost inaccessible rock, crowns the 
 whole. 
 
 I went over the ruins of one of these 
 strong-holds, which form a crown to the 
 round mount of Gbdesberg. They command 
 an extensive and most striking view, espe- 
 cially to the Northward; and the remains of 
 the castle are, in themselves, curious and ex- 
 traordinary. I ascended to the top by a 
 narrow stair, formed in the thickness of the 
 wall, which five men could, in case of need, 
 have made good against a hundred. In- 
 deed, the whole way along the Rhine, I have 
 been struck with the strong and almost inac- 
 cessible positions of these old " burghs." It 
 is very picturesque certainly, and romantic
 
 222 MR. B LOU NT's MSS. 
 
 also, to see a strong-hold placed on the top 
 of a peak, where almost " the birds would 
 fear to build ;" but it gives a lamentable idea 
 of the state of society, when such precautions 
 were necessary. One cannot but feel no 
 slight degree of pity for the unfortunate 
 peasant, who was obliged to submit to the 
 tyranny of one of the barons, Chatelains of 
 these castles, to save himself from having 
 his throat cut by another. 
 
 Nearlv opposite Godesberg is the Dra- 
 chenfels, the most remarkable of " the Seven 
 Mountains." It rises at once and abruptly 
 from the Rhine, clothed beneath with vines, 
 and towering, at the top, in bare and per- 
 pendicular crags. The ruins of a tower 
 crown the whole; and so grandly do they 
 soar into the sky, that I distinguished, at 
 above two leagues on the other side, Cologne. 
 Nothing can be more noble and beautiful
 
 MR. blount's mss. 228 
 
 than the view from hence. Downwards, the 
 eye traces the windings of the river as far 
 even as Cologne; and, to the South, ' the 
 valley of the Rhine" begins to spread with 
 all its beauties. Close beneath, in the mid- 
 dle of the stream, lies Rolandswerder ; with 
 Rolandseck hanging above it, on the left 
 bank of the river. 
 
 This is one of the numberless spots along 
 the Rhine to which belongs an old and ro- 
 mantic legend. On the Rolandswerder (Ro- 
 land's Isle) is a nunnery, in which the ladye- 
 love of Roland took the veil, in consequence 
 of a false report of his death ; and the Ro- 
 landseck is a hermitage, now quite in ruins, 
 said to have been built by him on his return, 
 that he might overlook the convent of his 
 lost love, and endeavour to single her out 
 from among her fellows, and to distinguish 
 her voice in the chaunting of the service-
 
 224 Mli. blount's mss. 
 
 The story ends with her death from a broken 
 heart, and his in consequence. 
 
 Nearly all the names of places along the 
 Rhine have, as well as these, some meaning, 
 descriptive or traditional. The sonorous 
 and expressive German combines two or 
 three words into a beautiful name, in a way 
 which, in our language, would be uncouth 
 and ridiculous. Almost every one of these 
 castles and crags have some traditionary le- 
 gend. In this mineral district, " the swart 
 spirit of the Mine" is a frequent and very 
 diverting agent. He seems to be of that 
 class of spirits to which Robin Goodfellow 
 belongs, plaving all manner of knavish 
 pranks, but without real malice, or serious 
 evil ; and, now and then, doing a good turn, 
 in his own fanciful and wayward manner. 
 
 I was most particularly struck, however, 
 with the legend attached to the rock called
 
 MR. blount's mss. 225 
 
 1 the Lurley'* — perhaps, from the peculiar 
 beauty of the spot ; as also from the faculty 
 of echo which the rock is said still to possess. 
 It is a little above St. Goar, where the river 
 becomes still more rapid, and its banks more 
 wild and magnificent than usual. There 
 Mere no horses at the post-house when I ar- 
 rived there, so I walked forward along the 
 river side. Just above the town, is one of 
 the most striking points in its whole course. 
 Between two abrupt turns, the Rhine as- 
 sumes the appearance of a mountain lake, 
 with the exception of its rapid and violent 
 stream, which dashes against the rocks at the 
 lower extremity of the reach. The cliff 
 which forms the southern point is the rock 
 of the Lurley, which is said to echo fifteen- 
 fold. I conclude, if this be true at all, it 
 must be from the middle of the stream ; for, 
 to my great disappointment, I could make it 
 vol.t o
 
 226 mk. blount's mss. 
 
 answer me no more than once, from the bank. 
 This once, however, was clear, distinct, and 
 beautifully toned. I was not the less dis- 
 appointed from having composed, as I walk- 
 ed along, the first of the following stanzas, 
 in anticipation of the effect of the echo. It 
 was somewhat ludicrous to be thus baulked ; 
 but, instead of altering or abandoning my 
 stanza, I sat down and scribbled two more 
 to the tail of it. The boatmen say that the 
 rock is the abode of an Onduie, who, like the 
 syrens of old, with her beauty and her song, 
 lures the unwary to destruction: — 
 
 WRITTEN OPPOSITE THE LURLEY. 
 I. 
 
 How strange and wild these sounds are ! oh, 'tis 
 sweet 
 
 To breathe the name of one beloved, and hear 
 This countless Echo's magic voice repeat, 
 
 Bounding from rock to rock, a note so dear !
 
 MR. blount's mss. 227 
 
 Alone to hear it, too— lest it should meet, 
 So loved and sacred, an indiff'rent ear ! 
 One would not have this cherish'd, heart-nurs'd 
 
 tone 
 Received by any ear, except one's own ! 
 
 ii. 
 How soothing 'tis to sit upon the brink 
 
 Of this majestic river, and, among 
 These mighty crags, deliciously to drink 
 
 These our own echoes, as they fioat along 
 The answ'ring rock ! — well might the fisher think 
 
 Such sounds to be the water-spirit's song, 
 And fable a fair creature to give breath 
 To tones so sweet they even lured to Death ! 
 
 in. 
 Oh ! I could linger long hours in this place 
 
 Of manifold enchantments !— the soft light, 
 Form'd by the meeting cliffs — around their base 
 The splendid stream — the tow'r which to the 
 sight
 
 228 MR. BLOUNT ll MSS. 
 
 Seems hung upon the mountain's beetling face — 
 —Oh ! who can view such scene without de- 
 light ? 
 'Tis one which rivets the retreating eye, 
 And which the full heart parts from with a sigh ! 
 
 I was just scratching down the last couplet, 
 in all the agonies of an uncut pencil, when 
 the carriage overtook me, and I was quickly 
 whirled from this truly beautiful and interest- 
 ing spot. The legend, however, relating to 
 the Ondine* appeared to me so wild and ro- 
 mantic, and so peculiarly fitted to the scene 
 in which it is laid, where the stream is dan- 
 gerously rapid, and the overhanging cliffs are 
 thus, as it were, almost vocal, that I have 
 since been making enquiries of every body, 
 
 * The same superstition has, in our days, furnished 
 the groundwork of the very beautiful and popular Fairy 
 Tale of the Baron de la Motte Fouque, published under 
 the title of ' Ondine.' — Ed.
 
 mr. Blount's mss. 229 
 
 gentle and simple, concerning its details. I 
 have picked up one bit from one, and one 
 from another, which I have blended together 
 in the legend of 
 
 THE NYMPH OF THE LURLEY. 
 
 In days of yore, there was occasionally to 
 be seen, upon the Lurley, at sunset, in the 
 twilight, and by moonlight, a maiden singing. 
 Her beauty was of the most graceful and vo- 
 luptuous kind, and her voice was the sweet- 
 est sound which had ever floated over the wa- 
 ters of the Rhine. Perhaps, both the scene 
 and the hour entered for something into the 
 extreme effects produced by her song. The 
 Lurley is situated in the most beautiful part 
 of the most beautiful of rivers. The rocks 
 close in upon the stream, and overhang it on 
 each side, and hence render it more rapid and 
 tumultuous. The hour when she appeared
 
 230 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 was always in the calm of the summer even- 
 ing, or the still deeper calm of the summer 
 night, when the moon sheds her radiance of 
 beauty and of peace upon the gliding river, 
 and makes its waves appear as though they 
 were formed of living light. At such times 
 as these, the maid would be seen upon the 
 rock, her long golden hair floating upon the 
 evening breeze, or fantastically braided and 
 twined with river-flowers. And, then, she 
 would breathe forth sounds of such exqui- 
 site melody — of such unmatched sweetness, 
 and softness, and strength, — that the boatmen 
 who were descending the Rhine, would be- 
 come so enthralled in delight as totally to 
 forget their boat — themselves — every thing 
 but the music, which thus engrossed and 
 charmed them. Hence would their boats, 
 floating with the stream, no longer guided 
 by their oar, become entangled among the
 
 mr. blount's mss. 231 
 
 currents and eddies which abound about this 
 spot, and be dashed to pieces against the 
 rocks. 
 
 At length, so many lives were lost, through 
 the irresistible fascinations of this syren's 
 song, that the people in the country round 
 began, in the simple creed of those early 
 times, to think that she was endued with 
 magical power ; and that she exerted it to the 
 destruction of the human race. From time 
 to time, however, she was known to do kind- 
 nesses to the boatmen on the Rhine. She 
 would sometimes direct the young fishermen 
 who frequented the spot, where to cast their 
 nets ; and when they followed her directions, 
 they were certain to make an immense 
 draught. These fishers, who were the only 
 persons who had ever seen the nymph closely, 
 talked in raptures of her beauty, of her sweet 
 voice, of her kind manner, of the real bene-
 
 232 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 fits which she conferred upon them. Thus 
 it happened that, what with blame, and what 
 with praise, the Nymph of the Lurley be- 
 came the chief subject of which all persons 
 spoke for many leagues around. 
 
 At length her fame reached the court of 
 the Count Palatine, and shortly was the 
 sole topic of discussion throughout its pre- 
 cincts. In bower and in hall, by knight 
 and by lady, by baron and by squire, the 
 Nymph of the Lurley was equally the sub- 
 ject of discourse. It was observed, however, 
 that the matter was more favourite with 
 the male than with the female courtiers. 
 One young knight repeated what had been 
 told to him concerning her beauty ; another 
 related the magical effects of her voice. The 
 ladies, on the other hand, affected to dis- 
 believe the more prominent points of these 
 stories, and threw on them all, as much as
 
 MR. BLOUXT S S MSS. 23S 
 
 they could, the coldness of doubt, and 
 sneers, and utter disbelief. 
 
 At last, however, the son of the Count 
 took up the cause of the Nymph of the Lur- 
 ley, — and it is astonishing how rapidly a 
 change was operated in the opinions of the 
 ladies of the court concerning her. It is 
 even said that some of the foremost among 
 them introduced the fashion of dressing their 
 hair with water-lilies, brought from the 
 Rhine ; which was reported to be a favour- 
 ite costume with the beautiful nymph. But 
 of this there is, I think, not sufficient evi- 
 dence. 
 
 It was not long before the young Count 
 expressed his determination to make a jour- 
 ney to the Lurley, for the purpose of see- 
 ing its charming occupant. Many person-, 
 however, adopted the darker theory concern- 
 ing this mysterious being, and tried to dis-
 
 234 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 suade the young Count from so perilous an 
 adventure — representing her as a witch, who 
 put on a beautiful semblance, and breathed 
 sweet music, only to lure to their destruc- 
 tion all who came within the influence of 
 her charms. But the Count was in the full 
 flush of youth; — and when was youth ever 
 restrained by prudence, when beauty was in 
 the case ? 
 
 He set off, therefore, on his journey, ac- 
 companied by a brilliant suite of youthful 
 knights, who burned to go upon so ro- 
 mantic an expedition. The Count made 
 no secret of his intention of bringing the 
 nymph away from the place which had been 
 the scene of so many fatal mischiefs, and 
 then judge impartially of the various stories 
 in circulation respecting her. He embarked, 
 therefore, upc n the Rhine, in a splendidly 
 ornamented bark, — shining with gold, and
 
 mr. Blount's mss. 235 
 
 streaming with his own banner, and the gay 
 pennons of his various followers. 
 
 The sun had just set when they came 
 within sight of the Lurley. A fine tint of 
 deep rose-colour still glowed in the western 
 sky ; while in the east, the cold, clear, blue 
 of night gave distinctly to view the bright 
 stars which shone amongst it. The boats 
 glided rapidly with the stream, — the current 
 of which was already become quicker in pro- 
 portion as they approached the Lake of St. 
 Goar. On the rock of the Lurley the nymph 
 was seated, singing ; — her long hair was 
 streaming upon the wind, and she held in 
 her hands a girdle of river-coral. As they 
 drew near, they began to distinguish the 
 words of her song : — 
 
 Come, oh ! come 
 To my wat'ry home — 
 The white shroud of ljjies waits for thee !
 
 MR. BLOUiNTS MSS. 
 
 The glistening wave 
 
 Is the mortal's grave — 
 But oh ! 'tis a sweet, sweet home to me ! 
 
 I float in the cool 
 
 And deep, dark pool ; 
 They sink to the sand of the river bed — 
 
 And their dying wail 
 
 Is lost in the gale, 
 Which ripples the river above their head ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 The King of the Waters 
 
 Hath many daughters, 
 Some for the lake, and some for the sea ; — 
 
 But, oh ! it is mine 
 
 To watch o'er the Rhine — 
 The Rhine, in itself, is an ocean to me ! 
 
 Its waves are as bright, 
 When in clear moonlight 
 They break, while the current onward rushes ; 
 
 And the vines hang o'er 
 
 The craggy shore, 
 And adorn its face with their brilliant blushes !
 
 mr. blount's mss. 237 
 
 in. 
 
 Oh ! Father ! hear me ! 
 
 The barks draw near me 
 To take me off to the dry, dry shore ! 
 
 Where the waters flow not — 
 
 And the lilies glow not — 
 And the bubbling spring is heard no more! 
 
 Let thy car arise — 
 
 Let these mortals' eyes 
 See and shrink from thy matchless power — 
 
 Rhine, rise around me ! 
 
 Let thy waters bound me 
 From these vain sons of a mortal hour ! 
 
 It may be supposed that such a song as 
 this would not be particularly prepossessing 
 to the ears for which it was intended ; but if 
 any one formed such a supposition, he would 
 be exceedingly mistaken. As in some more 
 modern instances, the sound was so exquisite 
 that the sense was wholly unheeded. The 
 Count and his companions were entranced ;
 
 ME. BLOUNT'S MSS. 
 
 they scarcely breathed, lest the slightest par- 
 ticle of sound should be lost to them. The 
 rowers, even, though composed of old boat- 
 men, who regarded the nymph as an evil- 
 doing witch, paused upon their stroke, and 
 remained with uplifted oars, wholly enthrall- 
 ed by such sweet music. Nay, it is said 
 that one of the oldest of them, who had been 
 deaf for years, regained his hearing on this 
 occasion : — but this needs confirmation. 
 
 The boats floated towards the rock, drift- 
 ing with the current. The boatmen utterly 
 neglected to attend to their charge. At 
 length, of a sudden, when the nymph began 
 the last of the above stanzas, and invoked 
 the King of the Waters to shew his might, 
 the persons on board the boats were, in some 
 degree, roused from their torpor, by the 
 violent heaving and swelling of the river, 
 which began to rise on all sides, as though 
 under the impulse of a vast but invisible
 
 mr. blount's mss. 239 
 
 convulsion. There was no wind. The ban- 
 ners drooped along their staves, and the calm 
 sky was unobscured by a single cloud. But 
 the Rhine shewed every mark of a violent 
 storm, which reigned in the waters, though 
 it in no degree extended to the air. The 
 waves rose in tumultuous agitation — rushing 
 and foaming as though the winds of Equinox 
 swept over them. " It is the work of that 
 hell-born witch P exclaimed one of the at- 
 tendants; and he levelled his cross-bow at 
 her as he spoke. The Count called to him 
 to stay his hand, but he was too late. The 
 man let fly his bolt ; but a huge wave reared 
 its crest before it, and the arrow fell harmless 
 into the water. The river rose more and more 
 rapidly, — and at last, three enormous waves, 
 which reached the part of the Lurley where 
 the nymph was sitting, assumed the appear- 
 ance of a glittering car, drawn by two foam- 
 ing horses; though some of the spectators
 
 240 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 thought that this appearance was only the 
 addition of fancy to a casual formation. Be 
 this as it may, into the largest of the three 
 waves the nymph threw herself, and as she 
 disappeared from the astonished sight of the 
 Count and his party, they heard her exquisite 
 voice breathing the following words : — 
 
 IV. 
 
 I go, I go 
 
 To my home below — 
 'Tis sweet and fair with the river-flowers : 
 
 Coral and amber 
 
 Bedeck my chamber, 
 And gems shine bright in my liquid bowers. 
 
 Go, Prince, in peace, 
 
 The storm shall cease ; 
 A kind heart beats within thy breast ; 
 
 But yon churlish groom 
 
 Shall meet his doom ; 
 In the wave, to-night, shall he take his rest !
 
 241 
 
 v. 
 
 The river shall glide, 
 
 To the distant tide, 
 And shine as it hath always shone ; 
 
 But I no more 
 
 Shall behold this shore, 
 I go, and am for ever gone ! 
 
 But a spot so dear 
 
 Still will keep me near — 
 My spirit will float in this river-lake ; 
 
 And strangers will come 
 
 To my Lurley-home 
 Ages hence, for that spirit's sake ! 
 
 There was now no longer doubt of the na- 
 ture of this fascinating being. She was an 
 Ofiditie, or Water-spirit. Over these the 
 human race have no power. 
 
 Her parting prophecy was fulfilled in 
 every particular. The only person who 
 suffered from this expedition, was the man 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 who levelled his cross-bow at her. His foot 
 slipped as he was stepping on shore, and 
 the wave, having once closed over him, did 
 not loose its hold again. 
 
 The Ondine has never since been seen on 
 the Lurley ; nor has her song been heard 
 there. But the fishermen say, that she still 
 amuses herself by imitating and repeating 
 their voices; and, to hear these remarkable 
 sounds, strangers still flock to the abode of 
 c the Nymph of the Lurley.' 
 
 And now my romantic and poetical vein 
 are both exhausted ; for my fire has burned 
 low, and my bottle of Hockheimer is out, 
 and I can do nothing without these ' crea- 
 ture-comforts,' My fingers, too, are tired, and 
 my eyes are heavy ; so, to cure both ailments, 
 I shall lay down my pen and go to bed.
 
 mr. blount's mss. 243 
 
 EXTRACT VIII. 
 
 Beautiful ! 
 
 How beautiful is all this visible world ! 
 
 1 Hark ! the note, 
 
 The uatural music of the mountain reed — 
 
 For here the patriarchal days are not 
 
 A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, 
 
 JMix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd ; 
 
 My soul would drink those echoes." 
 
 Maxfred. 
 
 [From the Diary.] 
 
 Vevay, July, 1791. 
 I am no admirer of Rousseau ; but this is 
 not all — I am a sad heretic even about his 
 works. For the man himself, he has taken 
 great pains to render himself odious to every 
 person of delicacy or good feeling. He has 
 painted himself as every thing that is mean, 
 R 2
 
 &44 MR. blount's mss. 
 
 heartless, and disgusting ; and we are bound 
 to believe his own representation. But, leav- 
 ing him, as Jean Jacques, entirely out of 
 die question, I cannot be brought to consider 
 Julie and St. Preux, as the model and per- 
 fection of lovers. I cannot regard the letters 
 given to them, at all as such letters as would 
 be written under the circumstances descri- 
 bed; they appear to me to be overwrought 
 and overstrained, and they consequently lose 
 that penetrating touch of real nature which 
 strikes home at once to the heart. I have 
 attempted to read the Heloise again — here 
 on its own ground — with the rocks of Meil- 
 lerie rising before my eyes opposite, and the 
 name of every village and hill around re- 
 calling some of its localities: but, I confess, 
 I have not been able to finish it, even here. 
 I believe there must be some peculiar defect 
 in my mental vision with reference to this 

 
 mr. blount's mss. 2^5 
 
 book ; for that which stirs so much the 
 hearts of others, appears to me to be out of 
 nature, and consequently falls blunted upon 
 mine. Hence, the Heloise is to me iceari* 
 some. When I come to a letter purporting 
 to be written by the tenderest and most 
 ardent of lovers, at the very crisis of his for- 
 tunes with his mistress, discussing to her the 
 comparative merits of French and Italian 
 music, what can I do but put down the book 
 in despair and in disgust ? 1 have had deeper 
 and stronger emotions called into life by one 
 day's ramble among these stupendous Alps, 
 than by all the romantic associations of this 
 " petite ville " at their feet. In the one case 
 Nature spoke ; in the other, a profligate and 
 corrupted man. 
 
 During the months I have passed in Swit- 
 zerland, I have walked over nearly every 
 part of it. The grandeur and solitude of
 
 246 
 
 mountain scenery have so much effect upon 
 me, that, of late years, I have not always 
 cared to meet and analyze the sensations 
 which they excite. They were too solemn, 
 too stirring — too painful, in short. If there 
 be any thing which can impress the heart of 
 an unreflecting or a worldly man with awe, it 
 is witnessing the sublime and awful strength 
 and solitude of Nature. If there be any time 
 at which he will look into his own heart, 
 and probe and search it, it is when he stands 
 alone amidst such scenes. Nature appears 
 herself before him, and points silently to her 
 God and his ! 
 
 How weak, how poor, do the evil passions 
 by which he has been swayed appear to him 
 then ! He wonders that motives, which now 
 seem so slight, so unworthy, could ever have 
 had the power of impelling him to action. 
 And how differently does he view the conse-
 
 mr. blount's mss. 247 
 
 quences of such actions ; now, alone amidst 
 mountains, and the concomitants of moun- 
 tains — pine woods and awful precipices, and 
 eternal snow — from what he did in the bustle 
 of the world, and among the influences of 
 worldly society ! Those things on which he 
 shut his eyes, now rise before him with re- 
 proachful intensity ; those palliations which 
 he dwelt upon, and viewed with microscopic 
 exaggeration, are now dwindled to their real 
 minuteness ; the " small, still voice" within, 
 which is drowned in the din of the world, is 
 heard clearly and awfully in the midst of the 
 mountain silence. 
 
 I have felt all this much, during the last 
 months. Do as he will, a man cannot always 
 run away from himself; his conscience will 
 catch him at last, — and the longer it has been 
 forcibly silenced, the louder and the more 
 severely will it then speak. I have thought
 
 248 mr. Blount's mss. 
 
 more, in tne way of retrospect and self-exa- 
 mination, during the last half-year, than in all 
 the rest of my life put together. And am I 
 satisfied with the result ? Alas ! alas ! what a 
 fearful question is that ? What answer must 
 I make to it ? Must I say, that it presents me 
 with time lost, powers wasted, heart made 
 cold ; — with those qualities which were given 
 to cause happiness, having worked misery, 
 -r— with the stream of life having been turned 
 into the waters of bitterness ? — If I speak the 
 truth, I fear I must. As I have stood amidst 
 the mountains of Savoy or of Berne, and 
 gazed upon the delicate, and, perhaps, sadden- 
 ing beauties of the close . of day, thus has 
 my heart communed with itself — and the 
 sighs which spring from the very soul have 
 been groaned from my lips; and the pas- 
 sionate bursts of hysteric tears, which bespeak 
 the spirit in its agony, have flowed from my
 
 mr. blount's mss. 249 
 
 eyes. The visions of my youth have risen 
 before me ; — those whom I have loved have 
 recurred to my mind with a feeling of deep 
 and solemn tenderness, how different, and 
 oh ! how superior, to the throes of more 
 tumultuous passion which they excited long 
 ago ! 
 
 I have thought at such moments that, 
 but for fortuitous events, I never should 
 have chosen the course which I have followed 
 through life. I have felt as though my soul 
 were formed to cherish the domestic affections, 
 and to place its, whole hope of happiness 
 on their cultivation and enjoyment — affec- 
 tions which, in the full tide of the world 
 and of youth, I have been accustomed to 
 think so cold, and treat so lightly. This, 
 at least, I shall not do again. Xo ! I feel 
 that there is something deeper, tenderer, and 
 finer, than the ebullitions of passion, and
 
 £50 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 the indulgence of their fierce impulses. The 
 evening of life needs repose, and the store 
 for it should be made at noon. What store 
 have I laid up ? Shall I, at the end, be 
 like the grasshopper in the Greek fable, 
 who chirps and dances through the summer 
 sun, and dies for want in winter ? 
 
 Yes ! I have lavished my youth too ra- 
 pidly ; — young as I still am, I feel as if 
 the appearance of my person belied the age 
 of my heart. I have been like a spendthrift, 
 who anticipates his estate, and spends it 
 before it comes into his own possession. I 
 might have been happy — I feel that I might. 
 I could have given up my whole affections 
 to domestic life, and received deep happi- 
 ness in exchange for them. Why, then, did 
 I not ? Alas ! because I did not think, a few 
 years back, as I think now ! I have sought 
 in the world for enjoyments in its place ;
 
 251 
 
 and I have found them few and transient, 
 and productive only of remorse. 
 
 How has this knowledge flashed upon me 
 now ? During my wanderings among the 
 Alps, the day-dreams which have floated 
 across my* mind have, nearly always, in 
 some part of their progress, presented one 
 figure to my view. In other persons and 
 circumstances they varied, but in this thev 
 were almost all alike. Nay here, as I sit, 
 in the late evenings, by the side of the lake, 
 and see the water ripple at my feet, — and 
 look upon the verdure and. beauty around 
 me, — and listen to those delicious sounds of 
 evening which, breaking across the stillness 
 of the hour, render that stillness more ap- 
 parent and more grateful, — and imbibe those 
 scents of freshness and of fragrance which 
 the evening dew calls forth — I have, in my 
 reveries, almost lost the consciousness of
 
 252 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 time, and have turned to address the com- 
 panion who used to sit by my side, over the 
 Loire — but the place is vacant now ! Yes ! 
 the remembrance of that moonlight scene is 
 graven on my heart in deeper characters 
 than I had thought — it is ineffaceable ! 
 There was something so peculiar in the na- 
 ture of our intercourse, that it never was, nor 
 is it now, measured by its real duration as 
 to time. The feelings of years may, by the 
 force of circumstances, be crowded into the 
 space of a few weeks ; and they gain greater 
 power from their very condensation. In all 
 my more tender and thoughtful mood-;, when 
 the best feelings of my nature are in activity, 
 and the evil ones are. at rest, Antonia rises 
 before my mind, and my thoughts dwell 
 upon her dear remembrance. The tumults 
 of worldly pursuits obscure, for a time, this 
 image. But they are only like vapour upon
 
 mr. blount's mss. 253 
 
 a mirror — they are speedily dissipated, and 
 the true object appears again. 
 
 But it is vain to think thus now, still 
 more vain to express such thoughts. I have 
 forfeited the happiness which I might both 
 have given and enjoyed — and I have lost it 
 for ever ! 
 
 And yet, if I cannot keep this recollection 
 from my mind now, what shall I do when 
 the Alps are no longer between' us, and when 
 I tread the soil of that country which she 
 loved and praised so much ? I remember, 
 some years ago, I used to doubt what, when 
 I visited Italv, would be the preponderating 
 train of my thoughts — whether classic, or of 
 the middle ages ? I used to fear that in the 
 multitude of associations arising from these 
 various kinds of glory, I should not know 
 where to chuse : — but both these objects are 
 now thrown into shade by a third. It is not
 
 254 mr. blount's mss. 
 
 as the country of the Caesars or the Medici, 
 of Virgil or of Tasso, of the Capitol or 
 of St. Peter's, that Italy will now find in- 
 terest in my eyes. It is the native land of 
 the woman I have loved ; and one spark of 
 passion eclipses, at once, all which the light 
 of imagination or. of learning can supply. I 
 shall be in the same country, perhaps in the 
 same city, with her ; I shall be beneath that 
 sky of which her remembrances used to be 
 so keen, and her praises so fervent : — and yet 
 I shall not see her. If the grave had closed 
 between us, our separation could not be more 
 complete ! 
 
 At last, then, I am about to enter Italy ! 
 — What a crowd of feelings of all kinds rises 
 upon me with that word ! I have always 
 looked thither with such interest and high 
 curiosity; and, of late years, my personal 
 feelings with respect to it have been so
 
 mk. blount's mss. %55 
 
 strong, that it will be with no common sen- 
 sations that I shall descend the Alps into its 
 bosom. It is a land which might occupy a 
 life-time duly to explore : but I am a swallow- 
 like traveller ; like it, I skim over the surfaces 
 of things, and I migrate almost as often. But 
 Italy will demand a double degree both of 
 time and observation. To such a country I 
 shall not grudge it. And yet, though I have 
 been drawing towards it for nearly the last 
 two years, I feel almost surprised at being 
 now about to cross its threshold. So true 
 is it, that a hope is always agitating on the 
 eve of its fulfilment ! 
 
 end o*f VOL. i.
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEV, DOKSET STRLF.T. 
 
 /