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 »
 
 THE- 
 
 INFIDEL MOTHEH? 
 
 OR, 
 
 THREE WINTERS IN LONDON, 
 
 By CHARLES SEDLEY, Esq. 
 
 ADTHOR OF * THE MASK OF FASHION,' &C. &C. 
 
 Manners, -with fortunes — humors turn with cliraes: 
 Tenets with books; and principles with times. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 4 
 
 LONBOI^: 
 
 PRINTED BY D. N. SUURY, BERWICK STREET, SOUO, 
 
 FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE-STREET, 
 CAVENDISH-SQUARE. 
 
 I8O7.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/infidelmotherort01secH
 
 J^/ f DEDICATION 
 
 TO Mr. nobody. 
 
 Invisible Sir ! 
 I can well remember, in my boy-hood, to have 
 heard You represented as the author of all the 
 casualties — ordinary and extraordinary — that 
 .;^appened in our family. 
 
 hThis Mr. Nobody — methought — must be a 
 very naughty sort of Somebody. I, therefore, 
 -> shunned Him, and courted Everybody. 
 
 I was aflfluentj and Everyboby eagerly re, 
 
 ceived my adYances.— It was, however, a very 
 
 iceting distinction. Fortune turned jade, and 
 
 v^>threwme3 and there I lay, without Anybody 
 
 ^ to pick me up, when Nobody came, humanelif^ 
 
 V to my assistance. 
 
 V *' I will analyse this Gentleman's character,'* 
 *<\ quoth I. 
 
 J 
 
 Who gives patronage to genius ? 
 Nobody. 
 
 r::^ Who seeks modest merit, in the shade, for 
 2 the benevolent purpose of transplanting it in a 
 \Smore congenial soil ? 
 
 NgaoDY.
 
 DEDICATION, 
 
 Who unostentatiousli/ succours the indigent? 
 
 Nobody. 
 
 Who, in short, is the voluntary friend of 
 mankind ? 
 
 Nobody. 
 
 Condescend, then, philanthropic Sir ! to ac- 
 cept this Dedication, in testimony of my gratitude; 
 even, though it bear not the tinsel of ornamental 
 flattery. 
 
 Under your patronage, I may safely usher my 
 offspring to the world — a comfort unrealised by 
 former dedications — satisfied, that, if Eterybody 
 rejects the brat, as ill-favored. Nobody will fds- 
 ter it; and discover point — satire — truth — in^ 
 every smiling feature of my little bantling. 
 
 I have the honor to be, 
 
 Invisible Sir, 
 Your most obedient, 
 
 And most humble servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 JVhatever of the good — the bad — or the 
 indifferent — may characterise the folloxving 
 pages, originate in vanity ; for had net the 
 Public^ obligingly , stamped a vierit 071 my 
 MASK OF FASHION, / should not have 
 presumed upon this new essay. 
 
 Be it knowny however, to all classes and 
 descriptions cf novel readers — whether male or 
 female — that neither ghost, mystery, 7ior 
 UNNATURAL SURPRISES, dignifies these vo^ 
 lumes. They contain portraits of Men and 
 Manners; and those unskilled in paintings of 
 that description, will do well to return the set, 
 unopened, to their Circulating Library, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 London, March 1807.
 
 THE 
 
 INFIDEL MOTHER, 
 
 ^c. ^c, S(c: 
 
 " Quarter less Jive,^ — ^loudly sang the 
 seaman from the chains — the gale blew 
 steadily — and the boundingvessel neared 
 her destined port. « 
 
 Approaching boats soon hailed the 
 Tankerville packet from Jamaica ; and, 
 with a fluttering heart, our hero prepared 
 to set his foot on English ground. 
 
 ■ A long train of baggage bespoke the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 INFIDEL 
 
 affluence of the voyager ; who, having 
 hastily distributed ten guineas among 
 the ofEcers of the customs, eagerly pro- 
 ceeded on his way to town. 
 
 The stranger was the last prop of a 
 respectable family, whose genealogical 
 tree branched, proudly, from the con- 
 quest of Jamaica, by Columbus ; in 
 whose armament, his ancestor bore a 
 distinguished command. Large reve- 
 nues, patriotically spent in promoting the 
 honor and welfare of their countiy, 
 had, hitherto, dignified the descendants 
 of this ancient house. The family man- 
 sion had long been renowned as the 
 seat of hospitality ; and its successive 
 masters revered for their domestic vir- 
 tues.
 
 MOTHER. 3 
 
 Mr. John Torrid, late proprietor of 
 these rich domains, had been liberaDy 
 educated at Harrow school ; and added 
 the powers of a capacious mind to the 
 graces of a manjy person. 
 
 On the eve of his return to the West 
 Indies, he became enamoured with an 
 English lady, of decayed fortunes, whom 
 he married ; and she cheerfully became 
 the companion of his voyage. Nor did 
 he fear to meet a father's frown : 
 Henrietta had been the delight of the 
 small, but respectable, circle, in which 
 she moved; where her personal endow- 
 ments were considered her least attrac- 
 tion: delicacy of sentiment, and vivacity 
 of manners, embellished good sense; 
 w^hile the marked propriety of her 
 manners engaged an universal admira- 
 b2
 
 INFIDEL 
 
 tion. But, alas ! how transitory are all 
 the blessings of this life! the amiable 
 Henrietta lived not long to partake the 
 nappiness she was born to diffuse. — A 
 second parent's blessing had scarcely 
 warmed her heart, when a mother's 
 still more endearing affections seemed to 
 hail her the happiest of her kind. She 
 died in the month ; leaving her hus- 
 band wretched in the severest ex- 
 treme. 
 
 This shock was succeeded by the loss 
 of his father ; and the measure of his 
 woes brimm'd the full cup of sorrow. 
 
 Time, however, the grand restorator 
 of peace, and the peculiar boon of 
 Heaven, to moderate the sufferings of 
 humanity, mellowed, although it could
 
 MOTHER. 5 
 
 not wholly assuage, the rooted agonies 
 of his heart. The memory of his adored 
 wife, now, occupied the affections of 
 Mr. Torrid ; to which, and to the 
 dawning beauties of the cherub pledge 
 her love had left him, he, for a time, 
 exclusively, devoted himself: till, a- 
 roused by a sense of what he owed the 
 world, he taught his features to wear a 
 cheerful air ; and imperceptibly, the 
 hall of his forefathers became, again, the 
 seat of hospitahty. 
 
 The boy — ^%vhom he named Henry in 
 compliment to his wife — -with encreas- 
 ing years, won on the encreasing affec- 
 tions of his father : his person was tall 
 — ^his frame agile — ^his countenance live- 
 ly and open — his heart warm — his dis- 
 position vehement — and his generosity 
 B S
 
 INFIDtL 
 
 profuse. His father — whom no argu- 
 ment could induce to part' with this his 
 only remaining joy — procured a gentle- 
 man from Oxford, at a most liberal 
 stipend, to undertake his education. 
 
 Under the lenient, yet impressive, 
 doctrine of this gentleman, the youthful 
 Henry gave early prom,ise of a mind 
 con 2:enial with his father's fondest wishes. 
 It is true — Mr. Torrid saw, with some 
 degree of pain, an impatience, in tlie 
 nature of his son, v/hich boldly resisted 
 every thing in the shape of opposition ; 
 but this error, he trusted, future obser- 
 vation, and the inborn goodness of his 
 boy's heart, would gradually correct. 
 
 In the mean time, a dreadful insurrec- 
 tion broke out among the negroes of
 
 MOTHER. 7 
 
 the island. Whole families were, deli- 
 berately, butchered by the ferocious 
 leaders of this rebel band. In vain, the 
 agonised mother fell prostrate in defence 
 of her little infant brood : in vain, her 
 terriSed offspring lisped forth entreaties; 
 —or, with uplifted hands, sued for a 
 mother's safety. Suffering beauty melts 
 not the brutal energies of savage despo- 
 tism ; nor can trembling innocence avert 
 its bloodv fiat. 
 
 The murderous scene raged on» 
 
 Martial law being hastily proclaimed, 
 the Militia joined the regular forces on 
 the island, to quell this dreadful carnage ; 
 but the insurgents, — having claimed 
 protection from, and allied themselves 
 with, the native Maroons, — found safety 
 b4
 
 » INFIDEL 
 
 in the caverns, woods, and natural fast- 
 nesses of the mountains, scoffing the 
 impotency of our rage. 
 
 Many, and desperate, were the con- 
 flicts that ensued : at length, a peace 
 was concluded ; when, among many of 
 the brave, whose honest vengeance gave 
 them more than mortal powers in the 
 fight, our hero's father numbered : his 
 desperate courage, for awhile, pre- 
 vailed ; but one day, when reconnoi- 
 tring the enemy, an ambushed party 
 covered him wdth wounds — he fell— -and 
 murmuring the name of " Heiiry^' — ex- 
 pired in the hands of his brutal enemy ; 
 w^ho not only refused to ransom his 
 body, but forgetful of his humane cha- 
 racter, as a master, they bufletted, with 
 frantic exultation, his senseless corse ;
 
 MOTHER. y 
 
 then carved it into quarters ; and erected 
 them, on lofty poles, as bloody trophies 
 of their ruthless victory. 
 
 At this period, Henry had scarcely 
 attained his eleventh year. He loved 
 his father almost to idolatry ; and his 
 sensibility long wept over the remem- 
 brance of this calamitous event. 
 
 This was a moment to call forth all 
 the skilful consolations of his friend and 
 tutor ; nor was it neglected. Mr. 
 Reeves, urged by the naturLil benevo- 
 lence of his character, and still more so, 
 by a real affection for his pupil ; under- 
 took, by the most endearing attentions, 
 to dispel the trace of melancholy from 
 Henry's cheek, whose animated counte- 
 B 5
 
 10 
 
 INFIDEL 
 
 nance still gloomed with the conscious- 
 ness of his irreparable loss. 
 
 At length, his studies began, again, 
 to occupy a portion of his mind : and 
 Mr. Reeves felt, that, among all those 
 comforts with which Providence strews 
 the path of life, few are superior to 
 those experienced by a virtuous mind, 
 when contemplating the result of its 
 most assiduous labors, expanding into 
 tlie character it wished to form. 
 
 , At sixteen, Henry declared his wish 
 to embark for England; and Mr. Reeves, 
 who read the motive in his pupil's heart, 
 would readily have withdrawn him 
 from scenes that fostered painful recol- 
 lections, had he not trembled for the
 
 MOTHER. ir 
 
 dangers, that awaited him, in the new 
 world to which he would have flown. 
 He, therefore, urged the impropriety of 
 the step, as injurious to his pupil's future 
 interests ; and, at length, though with 
 some difEculty, he prevailed. Henry 
 consented to remain on his estate till he 
 was of age, and capable of understanding 
 the extent of his fortunes, as well as the 
 characters of those to whom he might, 
 in future, entrust their management. 
 
 A magnificent public entertainment 
 announced to the island, at large, the 
 arrival of this much desired period: and 
 Pvlr. Reeves being, on the following day, 
 invested with the sole control of a re- 
 venue of more than fifty thousand per 
 annum, our hero took an aiFectionate 
 B 6
 
 12 INFIDEL 
 
 leave of his friend, and embarked fur 
 Europe. 
 
 To a warm imagination, the charms 
 of novelty are impressive. Henry had 
 lived, hitherto, under the trammels, 
 however mild, of a master; whereas, 
 his heart bounded for the fulness of 
 independance. He had been accustomed 
 to witness nought but scenes of husban- 
 dry ; while he panted to behold the vast 
 metropolis of England ; which fancy had 
 decked, with every fairy allurement to 
 captivate the eye ; and, every luxury 
 to seduce the senses. 
 
 Of Henry's maternal family, it will 
 be necessary to take an ample sketch ; 
 as he is, now, about, to be engrafted, as 
 it were, upon a branch of that stock.
 
 MOTHER. IS 
 
 Mr. Melmoth, his maternal grand- 
 father, mherited a landed property of 
 about two thousand a year, in the 
 county of Hereford; and the family had, 
 successively, represented the borough, 
 for upward of two centuries in parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 A new ministry, angling for support, 
 had thrown out certain baits to tempt 
 the ufiqualijied approbation, of hitherto 
 independent m.embers ; but Mr. Mel- 
 moth, proud in the integrity of his 
 unsulHed parliamentaiy character, and 
 relying fully on the promised support of 
 every independant freeholder, resisted 
 the allurement. A dissolution, soon 
 after, took place, in obedience to custom, 
 and Mr. Melmoth was opposed by a 
 rich cornfactorj who, from originally
 
 14 INFIDEL 
 
 carrying sacks to a master's mill, be- 
 came a contractor ; and was, nextjto be 
 installed a member of parliament. 
 
 The day of election came, and great 
 was the contest, at the town hail, be- 
 tween the blue and the orange party. 
 
 Mr. Melmoth presented himself with 
 confidence at the hustings — he was 
 applauded, with the voices of all who 
 dared applaud ; and in the hearts of 
 others made dumb by circumstances : 
 yet he lost the day. The contractor 
 was, on the close of the poll, declared 
 duly elected, by a majority of seventeen 
 votes. Mr. Melmoth dem.anded a scru- 
 tiny — it was tedious and expensive ; 
 but restored him to his seat. The heavy- 
 draughts, however, made on his purse
 
 MOTHER. 15 
 
 by a fifteen days contested election, and 
 a fifteen months contested scrutiny, 
 proved his ultimate ruin. He was not 
 five and tv/enty when this event hap- 
 pened, and had not long been miarried,. 
 
 Two sons — and a daughter, after- 
 wards Mrs. Torrid — were the fruit of 
 this union ; and as nothing is more 
 uncertain, than the preponderating scale 
 of a political balance ; other changes, in 
 administration, brought into power 
 several of Mr. Melmoth's friends. 
 
 For himself, he would accept nothings 
 but he felt he had already destroyed the 
 birthrights of his children, and for his 
 sons' sake he must prove more yielding 
 in his nature.
 
 16 INFIDEL 
 
 His elder boy entered the navy at ten 
 years of age ; and attained the rank of 
 admiral with a red ribbon — his second 
 was received into the Secretary of State's 
 office for Foreign Affairs, at a proper 
 age, and ultimately became the confiden- 
 tial repository of the whole arcana of 
 state legerdemain. 
 
 For many years he continued to 
 possess the full confidence of ministers 
 — nor wiYL this appear strange, when 
 I represent, that his early induction 
 into office ; — strengthened, perhaps, by 
 recollections of the fatality w^hich fol- 
 lowed his father's persisting in unsullied 
 integrity ; — led the young votary of 
 ambition to model his principles by his 
 place. In tw^o words, he became a court 
 sycophant. Power w^as the sole object
 
 MOTHER/ 17 
 
 of his waking dreams, or nightly visions. 
 A coronet floated o'er his brow *, and 
 all principle, save that of party obedience, 
 fled before the illusion. He estimated 
 right and wrong — not by reason ; but 
 policy. All that was brilliant, splendid, 
 and sanctioned by public applause, was 
 right — all else was, systematically, 
 wrong. 
 
 The admiral died an honor to his 
 profession, leaving the whole of his 
 fortune, about four thousand a year, to 
 his nephew Charles Melmoth. 
 
 The courtier lives to wear his eagerly 
 acquired honors, which, if they do not, 
 fully, meet his expectation, are too con- 
 siderable to be slighted : and hope still
 
 18 INFIDEL 
 
 dwells on the darling expectation of the 
 coming coronet. 
 
 The Right Honorable Thomas Mel- 
 moth retired from ofHce, one of His 
 Majesty's most honorable Privy Council 
 —a representative in parliament for a 
 ministerial borough — and a pension of 
 two thousand a year ; which latter 
 douceur, with the addition of " candle 
 ends, and cbeese parings^' enabled him to 
 move, in all the higher circles of haut 
 ton, w^ith corresponding eclat. 
 
 Mrs. Melmoth was of high fashion ; 
 and distinguishable for the brilliancy of 
 her parties. 
 
 With a masculine mind she possessed
 
 MOTHER. 19 
 
 a feminine person : and the softness of 
 her manners corrected the boldness of 
 her opinions. — She was a free thinker ; 
 but not a free agent. Satisfied that 
 Nature had forced our passions upon us, 
 she, by no means, thought herself ac- 
 countable to a Supreme Power for her 
 conduct under them* She considered 
 rewards and punishments as limited to 
 this world j and that eternity was a 
 blank. Happily, vanity was a leading 
 trait in her character ; and, as vanity 
 cannot be gratified without public appro- 
 bation, she continued virtuous, from 
 fashion, — when she would have been 
 dissolute, from principle, — and courted 
 pleasure, in all its varied and fantastic 
 forms, under a conviction, that, as all 
 things terminated on this side of the
 
 20 INFIDEL 
 
 grave, it was a duty to make the most of 
 her existence. 
 
 With vanity for a leading foible^ — 
 although, in her, it was a 'virtue — she 
 forgot, amid the incense offered at that 
 favored shrine, the ages of her children. 
 She had imbibed all her husband's pre- 
 judices in favor of rank, and her fine 
 eyes glistened, with unaffected rapture, 
 when a coroneted carriage stood before 
 her door. 
 
 This polished couple were th^ happy 
 parents of three children. 
 
 Charles, the eldest, was near five and 
 twenty — a Lieutenant Colonel in the 
 Guards — gay, volatile, dashing ; of im-
 
 MOTHER. 21 
 
 mense ton at every place of public 
 amusement. 
 
 He was the best whip — the best pugi- 
 list — the best shot — of any blood in 
 town. His bravo gave celebrity to a 
 new singer ; and \i\sjiat damn'd a new 
 play : but^ with all these high bred quali- 
 fications, added to his fortune, he was, 
 at once, a vain, empty, trifling, cox- 
 comb. 
 
 « 
 Emma, the second, — now Marchioness 
 of Derry, — was the idol of her parents : 
 the splendid star that shed a glory round 
 the house of Melmoth. Her form was 
 gracefully elegant — her eyes brilliant 
 with vivacity — her features emblemati- 
 tical of candour — her manner irresist-
 
 22 INFIDEL 
 
 ibly playful. But, with all this outward 
 allurement, carefully moulded' by the 
 rigid inspection of mamma, under whose 
 immediate care she was, thus, gifted 
 with every power to please, Emma, in 
 her heart, cherished all the favorite 
 prejudices of her tutoress : — she did 
 more — she ridiculed, in idea, the sacred 
 reverence paid to all moral ties; and 
 equally smiled at the absurdity of every 
 rehgious duty— bug bears, as she would 
 call them, s^t up by the artifices of 
 priest-craft, to close the eyes of bigotry 
 against the plain, unerring, laws of rea- 
 son. She, therefore, considered marri- 
 age as a shackle upon the human mind, 
 designed, by nature, to be free. 
 
 With these prineipks, firmly rooted.
 
 MOTHER. 23 
 
 we may -easily anticipate what would 
 have been her career through life; if 
 mamma, who predicted at her birth, that 
 she was born to move, a brilliant planet, 
 in the hemisphere of fashion, had not 
 reared her an arch disciple in the school 
 of dissimulation. She, therefore, had 
 not, hitherto, avowed her cherished 
 principles ; although an event, at seven- 
 teen, had nearly overturned the whole 
 philosophy of her educaticnj and dis- 
 solved her parents' golden visions. 
 
 It was the loss of her heart, at a first 
 interview. The object, in her eyes, all 
 that was amiable — he wanted nothing 
 but fortune to claim the admiration of 
 the whole world. 
 
 " How grand, how noble, the effort !'*
 
 24 INFIDEL 
 
 — exclaimed Emma mentally — " to step 
 ^' over the narrow boundaries of worldly 
 " prejudice, and rescue, from oblivion's 
 " shade, this goodly plant to blossom in 
 " the sunshine of prosperity ! to his 
 " love will be added his gratitude : an 
 " Elysium will court our future steps : 
 '^ we shall give new lessons to pos- 
 " terity." 
 
 On the eve, however, of this philoso- 
 phical experiment, Miss Emma attracted 
 the particular notice of a lately widowed 
 Marquis, renowned for his gallantry, his 
 wealth, and his pride. 
 
 The heart of Emma now fluttered 
 with other emotions. A coronet, with 
 two balls ! and those, perhaps, shortly 
 to be exchanged for the more divine
 
 MOTHER. 25 
 
 attributes of fine curling leaves. — There 
 was extasy in, the thought. Vanity- 
 overcame love ; and Emma gave new 
 allurement, to her natural graces, by 
 the most studied, yet, apparently, 
 careless efforts to please. — In company 
 with the Marquis, she gave to her ac- 
 complishments a new, and irresistible, 
 variety. At one moment all whim ; at 
 another all gaiety : when pressed to 
 sing, she would execute, with critical 
 exactness, the most difficult bravura; 
 then playfully change to the simple 
 notes of a popular English ballad, or 
 gaily mock the wild melody of the 
 Nightingale. She extracted the science 
 of music from her harp ; or, with the 
 airy graces of a Sylph, gambolled to the 
 sounds of her merry tambourine. 
 VOL. I, c
 
 26 INFIDEL 
 
 The Marquis breathed only In her 
 presence. One single difficulty occurred 
 — Emma was not noble ; and it was 
 impossible for the Marquis to marry a 
 plebeian. 
 
 But every worldly evil has its cure. — 
 Letters patent were procured to remedy 
 this defect ; and Lady Emma Melmoth, 
 soon after, became Marchioness of 
 Derry. 
 
 The Captain, mean time, had been 
 kept in the back ground j but though 
 out of sight — not, wholly ^ out of mind. 
 
 Soon after Lady Emma's marriage he 
 became — God knows how — the protege 
 of the Marquis. From a marching regi-
 
 MOTHER. 27 
 
 ment he w^s exchanged to the Guards; 
 and, on all occasions, supported the arm 
 of the Marquis in his excursions, whether 
 of pleasure or of business. They were 
 the Py lades and Orestes of the fashion- 
 able world; and the Marquis was, every 
 where, applauded for so nobly patro- 
 nising merit in the shade. 
 
 Charlotte, the younger, had been the 
 fellow student of her accomplishedsister; 
 but with undissembled independance, 
 openly shook off, at the age of fourteen, 
 all parental authority. 
 
 The object of her affections — Mr. 
 Hamlyn — was also without fortune; but, 
 in her mirror — a divinity. A flirtation 
 had, for some time, taken place between 
 them ; his company being particularly 
 C2
 
 28 INFIDEL 
 
 sought by Mama — -who had eyes as well 
 as her daughter, and attributed his at- 
 tions, to Charlotte, to the natural eifer- 
 vescence of his obliging nature. — They 
 were sugar-plumbs, she thought, given 
 to amuse the child, while a more sub- 
 stantial entertainment was preparing for 
 the good Mama. 
 
 At length, Mr. Melmoth — hitherto 
 very civil — wished to cast off his con- 
 stant guest ; but he was too well bred 
 to do so point blank : he, therefore, 
 made some oblique efforts, by circulating 
 very ingenious little fabrications to the 
 injury of Mr. Hamlyn's character. 
 
 Charlotte fired ! — ^Hamlyn explained ! 
 — Mr. Melmoth retired chagrined !
 
 MOTHER. 29 
 
 Teized by this refinement of artifice, 
 Charlotte resolved to be free — and very 
 frankly told her father, the injuries Mr. 
 Hamlyn had so repeatedly sustained at 
 their hands, demanded reparation — in 
 short, she was ready to reward his 
 attachment with her person, as the only 
 suitable boon that could be offered. 
 
 Mr. Melmoth, — on whose lip, the 
 wily smile of outward complacency, 
 perpetually, played — approved the gene- 
 rosity of his daughter's sentiments, which 
 he called — ^^' nobility of soul" — but 
 prayed her to recollect her youth — 
 that patience was necessary to the ac- 
 complishment of all things ; and that, if 
 Mr. Hamlyn and herself, would v/ait a 
 Uttle — all should be well. He concluded 
 c 3
 
 30 INFIDEL 
 
 by offering his purse, and services, to 
 his future son-in-law. 
 
 " Your purse, sir," — replied Char- 
 lotte, — " he will have claims upon as 
 *' my husband ; and what it will, thcn^ 
 " be your duty to offer, is, now^ an" 
 " insult. I shall neither wait for time, 
 " nor circumstances. My law is my will ; 
 " I have no other monitor ; my heart 
 ** has decided in his favor, and he shall 
 ** be mine." 
 
 A momentary frenzy began to distort 
 the countenance of Pvlr. Melmoth ; but^ 
 reading, in his daughter's, the immuta- 
 bility of her purpose, his obedient fea- 
 tures resumed their wonted compla- 
 cency. He, therefore, drew a playful
 
 MOTHER. SI 
 
 sort of caricature of the ridicule, and 
 privations, to which so precipitate a 
 marriage would expose her : dwelt, 
 rather more seriously, on her real in- 
 conveniences of a contracted income — 
 the fashionable contempt of fashionable 
 friends— and the despicable subterfuges 
 to which the best of hearts often re- 
 sorted, in the hour of misery, to sup- 
 port appearances, 
 
 Charlotte shuddered ! — She was not 
 prepared to meet the open contempt of 
 the world. 
 
 Her father, eagerly seizing the 
 moment of doubt, took her hand, add- 
 ing tenderly, 
 
 ^* Love, my dear Charlotte, is a 
 C4
 
 32 INFIDEt 
 
 " dangerous pilot for a youthful heart. 
 " — Suiter my experience, for a short 
 ** time longer, to take the helm. I 
 " would not extinguish the impulse of 
 " gratitude in your bosom ; I would 
 " merely direct its operation : and save 
 " you from being the victim of your 
 •* own credulity — wait a lit tie, I repeat — 
 " a rich East Indian has akeady sought 
 " your hand — ^be prudent, though in 
 «< love — reflect — and you will, perhaps 
 *' find, that a wife, with two thousand 
 ** a year pinmoney, may be a better 
 ^^ friend to the object of lier esteem, 
 " than a giddy runaway; who, in giving 
 *' him an exclusive right to her person, 
 ^* mars all their future, mutual, pros- 
 *' pects. You have, besides, an elder 
 " sister, yet unmarried."
 
 MOTHER* S3 
 
 ^' Most humbly do: I thank you, 
 " reverend sir" — replied Charlotte with 
 a haughty inclination of the head. — 
 " Your plan is, certainly, liberal ; and 
 '' your friend, the little Nabob, has 
 " infinite obligations to you : but I do 
 " not please to barter my person for any 
 " settlement — however splendid. I have 
 " ever conceived matrimony to be a 
 " national evil. Montaigne has, w^isely, 
 " taught me, that a covenant, however 
 *' freely entered into, should not, even- 
 " tually^ be compulsatory or forced. 
 
 " Matrimony is composed of number- 
 " less intricacies, arising from difference 
 " in temper — in opinions — in education : 
 " these interrupt the smoothly flowing 
 ** current of a lively affection : and few 
 ** are found t*^ possess constancy suffi- 
 c 5
 
 B4f INFIDEL 
 
 ' cient to submit to this hard, though 
 ' self-imposed, burthen. Hence, the 
 ' frequency of adultery. Many, who 
 ' cannot unravel — break — the knot ; 
 ' and incalculable miseries ensue. Would 
 ' it not, therefore, be better, as well as 
 ' more politic, to establish by law, and 
 
 * sanction by custom, a free, voluntary, 
 
 * familiarity of intercourse ; when, not 
 ' only the soul might enjoy its most 
 ^ perfect fruition, but the person, also, 
 ' claim its natural share : whereas, this 
 ^ holy covenant^ — so ?noral in its ten- 
 ' dency — is often sealed with tliewanton 
 ' lips of premeditated perjury — ^because, 
 ' forsooth, the law of society has willed 
 ' it to be a necessary evil.'* 
 
 " You display, Charlotte" — retorted 
 her father angrily—" more strength of
 
 MOTHER. 35 
 
 understanding, than delicacy of senti- 
 
 " Women, sir, are always treated as 
 " subordinate creatures. Research — 
 " which dignifies the character of man, 
 " overwhelms a female with unfeeling 
 " censure. But I will not, by yielding 
 " to the god of your idolatry — almighty 
 " wealth ! — give any man the right, of 
 " purchase, to use me as his slave." 
 
 " You distort every thing by your 
 " sophistry, Charlotte. Marriage is a 
 " wise, and universal, covenant : it is 
 " the bond of society, acknowledged by 
 " all polished nations. It guarantees the 
 " inheritrnce of families, and preserves 
 " domestic peace and concord." 
 
 c 6
 
 BG IKFIDEL 
 
 " Admirable coRclusion*'— -replied 
 Charlotte — " preserves domestic peace 
 ** and concord !— ^Let us put your state- 
 " ment to the test. 
 
 " The humble mechanic takes, we will 
 " suppose, his wife from a family as 
 ^* humble as his own.— ^This is the fairest 
 *' prospect the case can assume. — He 
 " believes he has married a mild, thrifty, 
 " goodtempered,ceconomical housewife, 
 " because such was the character she 
 ** appeared in at her father's house.—* 
 " But mark the end, 
 
 ** With the closing honeymoon, the 
 •* bourgeoise asserts her independance — 
 " declares she will, no longer, mope at 
 " home all day: * what could the man
 
 MOTHER. 37 
 
 *' think she married for ? she would go 
 " out— that she would — when she 
 " pleased ; and where she pleased.' She 
 " makes morning parties with her neigh- 
 " hours. The ladies visit the west end 
 " —cram tartlets at a pastry cooks en 
 ^' passant — and, to do the thing ' wastly 
 " genteel' — they take an eighteen-penny 
 " fare returning. 
 
 *' At home, she is for ever making up 
 " new patterns of the fashions she has 
 " seen, instead of minding her domestic 
 " concerns. — The husband swears. — 
 " The wife snaps her finger and thumb 
 " — kimboes her arm — and defies him." 
 
 " The folly of the wife"— interrupted 
 Mr. Melmoth — "- does not, I presume, 
 ** argue against the husband ?"
 
 58 INFIDEL 
 
 « But it does" — said Charlotte with 
 quickness — " against the state — the holy 
 " state, as parsons call it. She knows 
 " her good man is bound to support her 
 " — will he, nil he ? — Has he not sworn 
 " to bear her humors and caprices ?" — 
 " to love her in sickness and in sorrow? 
 « — and, if her extravagance exceeds 
 " his means ; the Gazette wipes ofF old 
 ** scores, and they begin, anew, their 
 '' ' domestic peace and comforts* 
 
 " All this might be prevented, if 
 " inclination^ instead of ^c/72/>i^/j/ow, united 
 " them in a common interest. 
 
 " We will move to higher life. — 
 
 " The man of birth marries a beauty. 
 ** He is — as a noble lord once wrote^ to
 
 MOTHER. 39 
 
 " his friend, on his wedding day — ' the 
 " happiest dog alive'' — but finds in time 
 " — as this friend predicted — that ' every 
 " dog has his day J The married woman 
 " becomes more the fashion with the 
 " town, even, than the single miss. She 
 *^ is, for ever, assailed by flattery — every 
 '* art is used to convince her, such 
 " charms were never made for an in- 
 " dividual — every mirror, in the room, 
 " confirms the idea. If her husband 
 " watches her — he is ridiculed for being 
 '' jealous — if she falls, he is laughed at 
 •' as a good-natured fool. Still the 
 " pompous ceremony, that united them, 
 *' stamps this whimsical association with 
 " the sacred name of honor, '^ 
 
 " What if he had married a country 
 ** girl, well educated 5 his equal in for-
 
 40 INFIDEI, 
 
 " tune, and wholly unacquainted with 
 *' the levities, and frivolities, of the me- 
 " tropolis ?'* 
 
 « You shall see." 
 
 " The young bride comes up to town, 
 " all sweetness, modesty, and humility 
 « — her appearance is, at once, naive ^ 
 " ingenuous, and interesting. When 
 *' addressed by the familiarity of fashion, 
 " an amiable bhish mantles on her cheek 
 " — timidity gives it grace ; for it is 
 " noted to arise from modesty — not 
 " imbecility. She loves nothing but her 
 ** husband ; he is pronounced the hap- 
 " piest of men. 
 
 " The winter advances — she keeps 
 *^ the best company — wears the most
 
 MOTHER. 41 
 
 ** becoming robes — the most tasteful 
 " head-dresses. Modesty begins to as- 
 " sume the aspect of hauteur — timi- 
 " dity is replaced by high-bred assurance ; 
 " and my dear, and my love, and as 
 " you please, are thus translated, — ^the 
 " jealous wretch — the brutal creature— 
 " the stingy monster. 
 
 " To avoid all this, I marry — since I 
 " must marry — the object of my un- 
 " biassed choice. I know him to be 
 " strictly a man of honor. Gratitude 
 ** will fan the flame within his bosom — 
 *' he will love me from principle, as 
 " dearly, as from affection." 
 
 " And when you are deceived" — 
 exclaimed her father rising hastily — 
 *' when you find yourself neglected
 
 42 INFIDEL 
 
 ** where you looked for gratitude — de- 
 " spised where you have conferred obli- 
 " gation — pitied by the world — remem- 
 " ber you will have rushed, wilfully, on 
 " the ruin you experience \ and do not 
 " expect to find a friend in your father." 
 
 He, abruptly, left the room, just as 
 Mrs. Melmoth was entering. 
 
 Observing the very unusual preturba- 
 tion of her husband's features, and the 
 heroic air with which Charlotte's ex- 
 tended arm still waved a proud defiance 
 at the menace she had received — this 
 accomplished mother politely entreated 
 her daughter to explain, 
 
 " Oh, nothing, my dear mamma" — 
 Charlotte answered more composedly —
 
 MOTHER. 43 
 
 " papa is full of his politics ; and wants to 
 " sell me like a rotten borough — that's 
 " aU." 
 
 " Your father, my dear, will urge 
 you to nothing contrary to the honor 
 of our house/' 
 
 " Aye — the honor of * our house,' 
 that darling solecism occupies all his 
 thoughts : but this I am determined 
 on ; if he does not marry me in my own 
 "way — I will follow the example of Mrs. 
 Woolstonecroft. You remember the 
 lines of the modern Pindar, — - 
 
 " Eve had no parson, for no priest was Adam ; 
 *' And yet — not out of countenance was madam ! 
 
 " And why should he expect to find
 
 44 INFIDEL 
 
 me better than the children of paradise? 
 —-ridiculous T* 
 
 " I have always taught you, Charlotte, 
 to revere the opinion of the world, 
 beyond all things. Curiosity is never 
 too busy with those who are outwardly 
 correct ; and if some envious dame of 
 quality should suppose any thing mali- 
 cious, a well established reputation coun- 
 teracts it all. How else could the mystic 
 boudoir of youth and beauty be meta- 
 morphosed into the bower of Paphos, 
 while a churlish husband is pursuing the 
 extravagant caprices of an Opera girl — 
 or staking his last acre upon the turn of 
 a card?" 
 
 The arrival of visitors broke off this 
 moral lecture.
 
 MOTHER. 45 
 
 Shortly after, Charlotte married, and 
 was renounced. 
 
 On his arrival at Falmouth, Henry- 
 had written to his uncle, to say, he 
 should reach town on such a day, and 
 drive to Limmer's hotel. On being 
 shewn to an apartment, he was present- 
 ed with a card: " Lieutenant Colonel 
 Melmoth; Charles Street ^ Berkely Square;'' 
 and, shortly after, the Colonel, in propria 
 persona^ was ushered into his presence. 
 
 Approaching our hero with every 
 appearance of extreme cordiality, and 
 giving him a welcome shake by the 
 hand, the Colonel exclaimed, 
 
 " How do, my dear fellow ! — mon- 
 strous glad to see you — just arrived
 
 46 INFIDEL 
 
 from that outlandish place, I perceive — 
 yes ! — see it by the cut of your jib. 
 D— n it, my boy, only let me shew you, 
 for four and twenty hours, in Bond 
 Street ; engage to clear a thousand 
 guineas by you, damme." 
 
 " Shew me to advantage, Charles, as 
 much as you will" — replied our hero 
 laughing — " humanize me, and I am 
 your humble servant." 
 
 " That's right, my boy" — slapping his 
 shoulder — " see you'll do — send all my 
 people to you. But, apropos, old Don 
 longs very much to see you — would 
 have come, but he*s engaged at a Cabinet 
 Council — the Marchioness and her mam- 
 ma, both dying with curiosity, to get a 
 peep, — Pray what do you call that d — d
 
 MOTHER. 47 
 
 place you come from, where the crabs 
 so hospitably feast on almost every euro- 
 pean who enters then' coterie r" 
 
 " Nay, Charles !" — retorted Henry — 
 " this is too severe. Refine me a little 
 after the manners of this great town. — 
 You shall not find me an untoward 
 scholar.'* 
 
 . " Bravo, my little sunbeam — spoken 
 like one of us. Schweitzer shall make 
 your coat — White your leathers. Sug- 
 den shall cut your hair — Hoby make 
 your boots — Cator your hats. Told 
 you got plenty of the ready — d — d good 
 thing. Introduce you to my coach- 
 maker — take you to Tattersals. 
 
 " Here, my boy," — carelessly apply- 
 ing his eye glass, as he approached the
 
 48 INFIDEL 
 
 window — " what think vou of my set 
 out ? — There's four proper tits for you 
 — go ?evor,tccn miles in an hour — bet 
 you a cool five hundred, do it any day, 
 I'here they are — the smilers — all colors 
 —step within fiftieth part of an inch 
 with each other. Look at their tails — 
 damme, I brought up the crop tails — 
 how d'ye like it, eh 1 — Ran all over 
 town like wildfire," 
 
 Henry listened, with no small degree 
 of amazement, to his voluble cousin; 
 but ere he could reply, the Colond 
 continued, 
 
 ^* Can spar, eh ! — suppose not, though 
 — take you, with me, to Belcher — lost 
 one eye — ^best boxer in England, for 
 all that — see here— this his favorite
 
 MOTHER. 49 
 
 guard — puts in a straight forward blow 
 — so — no standing him, demme, — as- 
 tonished all the amateurs — but %yhat's 
 o'clock? — great sale at Tattersal's — must 
 be there at three — come back to dine 
 though — take compassion on you, posi- 
 tively." 
 
 " Many thanks, dear Charles, for this 
 kindness" — replied our hero — ^^ bring 
 whom you please, and remember. Bur- 
 gundy is the word." 
 
 " And this," said Kenry — looking at 
 his cousin, as he drove down Conduit 
 Street — " This, is a man of fashion ! — 
 dressed like a groom — squaring his el- 
 bows like a hackney coachman — and 
 setting at defiance every thing that has 
 the appearance of common sense. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 INFIDr.L 
 
 " But" — turning round on his lieel — 
 ** I am scarcely two hours old, in Lon- 
 don — I must see and be seen — surely, 
 among all the votaries of fashion, some 
 must be rational beings !*' 
 
 Our hero was still pursuing his soli- 
 loquy, when he was disturbed by the 
 arrival of his cousin's trades-people. His 
 orders were, that his clothes should be 
 fashionable; but he begged Mr. Schweit- 
 zer not to mistake him for a stable 
 boy. 
 
 At six o'clock, the Colonel made his 
 appearance attended by two friends j 
 and the par tie quarree, soon after, sat 
 down to an entertainment composed of 
 every delicacy in season. With the in- 
 vigorating beverage, our hero's spirits
 
 MOTHER. 51 
 
 rose ; and many pointed sallies mingled 
 with the vivacity of his conversation. 
 At a late hour the party broke up, all 
 declaring that Torrid would soon be 
 the fashion in town. 
 
 The Colonel promised to call at two, 
 next morning, to conduct him to Charles 
 Street. 
 
 It was early in the month of April— 
 the wheel of fashion w^as gaily whirling 
 round, and Henry had yet, before him, 
 enough of the London winter to run 
 the gauntlet of pleasure. 
 
 When the Colonel came to his ap- 
 pointment, he found our hero modestly 
 attired, in a fashionable morning dress ; 
 consisting of a single breasted mixture 
 D2 
 
 UBRARY 
 
 UNIYE??srTV OF lUiraif
 
 52 .INFIDEL 
 
 coat, a striped toilinet vest, leathers, 
 and boots. 
 
 After complimenting him on his me- 
 tamorphosis, they strolled, arm in arm,- 
 to Charles Street. 
 
 Mrs. Melmoth received her nephew 
 with a condescending smile — congratu- 
 lated him on his safe arrival — and as- 
 sured him of her devoted services to 
 make England agreeable. 
 
 The Marchioness — who attended her 
 mamma's ruelle that morning, for the 
 purpose of quizzing the newly arrived 
 savage— was surprised at the m.anly 
 elegance of his form, and the polished 
 ease of his manners.
 
 MOTHER. 5S 
 
 Extending her beautifully -white hand 
 ungloved — she took that of Henry with 
 a bewitching smile ; and requested he 
 would also receive her congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 " I expected to see my cousin a 
 Goth" — added she playfully — '' but he 
 has more the manners of a Parisian." 
 
 " With you, dear ladies" — answered 
 Henry- — " I shall be any thing— con- 
 descend to model me to your will, and 
 I shall bend obediently to the form you 
 impose." 
 
 " Nous verrons" — replied her lady- 
 ship — " I enlist you from this moment, 
 — You shall be my Cecisbeo for the re- 
 mainder of the season." 
 D 3
 
 54 INFIDEL 
 
 " What, if I find the service some- 
 what dangerous ?'* — retorted Henry. 
 
 *"' A flatterer too — prenez garde — 
 danger has more shafts than one — 
 and—/' 
 
 The conversation was interrupted, 
 abruptly, by the entree of Mr. Mel- 
 moth. 
 
 *^ My dear Henry '^ — embracing his 
 nephew — " this is one of the happiest 
 moments of my life. — Let me peruse 
 you. — How like my dear sainted sister ! 
 « — Henry, if you possess but half your 
 mother's virtues, you will be worthy a 
 diadem !'* 
 
 " Such an elegant fellow V — said his
 
 MOTHER. 55 
 
 aunt — " how infinitely are we all in- 
 debted to Mr. Reeves. — But why do we 
 not see him with you ? — I hope he is 
 well ?" 
 
 " Well, my dear aunt — and one of 
 the worthiest of men. He is so good 
 as to remain in Jamaica, the guardian 
 of my property. He has been, to me, 
 a second father." 
 
 The concluding sentence called up 
 painful recollections to our hero's 
 mind; and his eye glistened with a 
 filial tear. 
 
 " No painful retrospect, my dear 
 Henry ; we will teach you to be gay,'* 
 — was the obliging interruption of his 
 aunt. 
 
 D 4
 
 5G ■ INFIDEL 
 
 " He must to Court" — said his uncle 
 — " I am impatient to introduce him to 
 our beloved- Sovereign. I must also 
 make him acquainted with my dear 
 friend, the minister — he must purchase 
 a seat in parliament — he must be one 
 ef us." 
 
 " But pray, pappa, let him first be 
 one of wj" — replied the Marchioness. 
 " Henry- — mamma has a party to-night. 
 — You will be so delighted — only con- 
 ceive — forty card tables in the Egyptian 
 drawing rooms — all the rank, beauty, 
 and fashion of the town will be here, — 
 five hundred people all talking at once, 
 so that it is impossible to know a single 
 card you play, or understand a single 
 syllable tliat is uttered. Then the stair
 
 MOTHER. 57 
 
 cases will all be so crowded — not an 
 avenue unoccupied. — 
 
 " The street will be filled with car- 
 riages, all driving against each other 
 pell-mell — crash goes a highly varnished 
 pannel — snap goes a pole — shrieking 
 from one party — fainting in another — 
 oh ! it will be so divine, you can have 
 no idea 1 
 
 " Then, to-morrow, you wdll attend 
 me to the Opera — it is Parisot's bene- 
 fit, and the house will be a brimmer. 
 I shall have the pleasure to introduce 
 you to the town." 
 
 " With a little of my assistance," in- 
 terrupted the Colonel. " Henry must 
 order a new Vis against the Birth-day — 
 D 5
 
 53 INFIDEL 
 
 go with him directly to Leader's — call 
 upon my dealer, to look at his cattle — - 
 d — d honest fellow. Jack Aylmer — 
 sisters the finest women in town — are 
 they not, Marchioness ?'* 
 
 *■' You are always talking, Charles, 
 about your creatures, — I really hardly 
 know them, although they are to be 
 seen every where — ^I can tell them a 
 mile off — they smell so strong of the 
 stable," 
 
 *' Ha^— ha — ha! that^s a good one, 
 demme — who smells of the stable, pray? 
 does not my favourite filley. Miss Ka- 
 terfelto, smell of the stable ? and what 
 peeress, in the land, has better blood in 
 her veins ? — Is not her pedigree as care- 
 fully preserved as that of the first duchess
 
 MOTHER. 59 
 
 in the kingdom ? envy — Marchioness — 
 right env)^ — poz V 
 
 " Charles!" — exclaimed Mr.Melmoth, 
 advancing with a pompous air — " pray 
 recollect you are addressing yourself to 
 the most noble, the Marchioness of 
 Derry. — Her Ladyship is your sister ; 
 but not the less entitled to your re- 
 spect." 
 
 ^' Tell you how it is. Father lives 
 in one w^orld — Marchioness and I in 
 another — bet you a cool hundred the 
 Aylmers are the envy of every high bred 
 woman of quality in the kingdom. No 
 jockey ever scrutinized a four year old, 
 brought to the hammer at Tattersal's, 
 more critically, than the female haut ton 
 D 6
 
 60 INFIDEL 
 
 do the Aylmers.— Come, Marchioness, 
 -—be honest — what dress did Caroline 
 wear at the masquerade given by Mrs* 
 Rupee, in Portland Place ? — and how 
 many faults could you find in the shape, 
 make, and taste of her eme?jible T' 
 
 The Marchioness bit her lips, and 
 fiirted her fan. 
 
 *' I will have no more of this" — said 
 Mr. Melmoth — " it is astonishing, to 
 me, how such wretches are admitted." 
 
 " To you, it may be so'' — continued 
 Charles — " but it is well known, that 
 these wretches can get tickets to private 
 masks, that half the virtuous women in 
 town would give their eyes to peep at.
 
 MOTHER. 61 
 
 — This, my good sir, may not be the old 
 school; but it is the new school, demme 
 — is it not. Marchioness ?" 
 
 " Henry, you dine with us to-day" 
 — said Mr. Melmoth — ^' I must leave 
 you for the present, being under a par- 
 ticular engagement at the Treasury." 
 
 " Will you shop with me ?" — asked 
 the Marchioness, addressing herself to 
 Henry — " we are just in time to squeeze 
 into Bond Street." 
 
 " Shops with me, thank you, Marchio- 
 ness. — Come, Henr)^, we shall be late." 
 
 The Colonel's barouche stood at the 
 door, and away they drove.
 
 62 INFIDEL 
 
 Henry returned to his hotel at six, 
 having given orders for his equipage, 
 &c.; and, at seven, the Colonel called to 
 take him to dinner ; telling him, by the 
 bye, as they drove along, that it was a 
 monstrous hoax of the old Don's to ask 
 him to dinner where he was engaged 
 for the evening ; as the dinner party 
 never went up stairs ; but always spent 
 their evenings at half a dozen other 
 places. 
 
 Mr. Melmoth's table was crowded 
 with placemen, to all which great per- 
 sonages Henry was, formally, intro- 
 duced. In the evening, he had the 
 advantage of getting into the drawing 
 rooms, by retiring early from the dinner 
 table 5 but he could not reconcile to
 
 MOTHER. 63 
 
 himself the post allotted, by fashion, to 
 the mistress of a splendid house, when 
 she saw company. To stand, like a. bar- 
 maid, at the head of the stairs, to re- 
 ceive every one — monstrous ! — to pay 
 for cards — still more monstrous ! ! but 
 his reflections were soon interrupted 
 by the perpetual clatter around him. 
 
 The novice was easily recognized 
 ])y his want of easy assurance, — Who 
 is he? — any name?— is he rich? what 
 does he drive ? 
 
 When Henry's -pretensions to civ^ility 
 were known, he was instantly sur- 
 rounded ; and cards innumerable were 
 forced into his hands — " Mrs. A. at 
 home on Friday 2d June" — " Lady B.*s 
 Sunday concert, 28th May" — " Coun-
 
 64 INFIDEL 
 
 tess of C/s grand dinner, 15th May" — 
 " A pic-nic"— " A dance"—" A de- 
 jeune !" — " A cassino," — &c. &c. &c. 
 each making a thousand apologies for 
 so late 2Xi invitation. 
 
 " The novelty of the scene — the glare 
 of light — the splendor of the amuse- 
 ments — and, above all, the beauty of the 
 women — fairly turned our hero's brain. 
 About one, the Marchioness of Derry 
 contrived to reach the drawing room ; 
 and, after a thousand " how do's^'* and 
 " ver^ welU thank you'' — she gave her 
 hand to Henry, and led him through 
 four other parties ; all, rivalling each 
 other, in the magnificence of their 
 rooms, and the nimiher of their guests. 
 
 It was past four when the Marchioness
 
 MOTHER. Oo 
 
 set him down ; and he was not a little 
 surprised to fmd, in all the parties he 
 had been at, and those he was to go to, 
 no mention had been made of the master 
 of the house — " but that is the fashion, 
 I suppose" — said Henry mentally — as he 
 pressed his pillow.— 
 
 The fashion '—what is fashion ? — 
 
 A vapour, compounded of the light 
 particles of whim, caprice, and folly; 
 which, Hke a finger post, points always 
 to the same beaten track of notoriety. 
 A whimsical distinction, borrowed from 
 a mantua-maker,a taylor, a coach-maker, 
 or a jeweller. 
 
 And who, the arbiter of this all potent 
 word ? —
 
 66 INFIDEL 
 
 Any body — nobody — it consists in 
 being seen at all fashionable places — ^in 
 the certain shape of a robe, or the ad- 
 ventitious form of a trii.ket — in talking 
 nonsense, and in talking loud — in cer- 
 tain shrugs, and half sentences — in 
 agreeably lisping, and impudently star- 
 ing every body full in the face — in em- 
 ploying certain trades-people, and living 
 in certain streets — in making the beauty 
 of yesterday the deformity of to-day— 
 
 in any thing new or ridiculous 
 
 Such is fashion 1 
 
 A high bred London belle is — by 
 fashion— confident, volatile, flippant. 
 She just possesses understanding enough 
 to give semblance of ideas to a never 
 ending torrent of words. She frequents 
 every rout, concert, public breakfast, or
 
 MOTHER. 67 
 
 masked ball, given by ladies of rank 
 throughout the season. She is, at one 
 moment, to assume the rotundity of a 
 Burgomaster's wife — at another, the 
 sylph-like form that Phidias would have 
 chosen for a model. ?Ier face must be 
 masked — her limbs transparent. She 
 must incessantly study the outside of her 
 head, and neglect all within. Thus ac- 
 complished, she is qualified to seek the 
 matronly character of a wife and 
 mother 11! 
 
 The town beau has, likewise, his pre- 
 rogatives. He must drive well — ^box 
 well — quiz Vv'ell — ^live at an expense 
 much beyond his income — he must say 
 nothing with a certain air — ^he must fall 
 asleep, in the box of a Duchess, at the 
 Opera ; and be on the qui vive when 
 with a party of Cyprians, in the gallery :
 
 6s INFIDEL 
 
 —the eyes which gaze on vacancy, in 
 company with ladies of character, must 
 sparkle, with rapture, in company with 
 ladies of pleasure — in short, the idiot, 
 in polished society, must be an agree- 
 able, fascinating, charming fellow, in no 
 society at all. 
 
 This is the lesson our hero had to 
 learn j of which, he had just taken a 
 cursory reading. 
 
 Henry's first business, on the follow- 
 ing morning, was to order a hack, and 
 drive to the city on a visit to his mer- 
 chant. At his return, he found cards 
 from the Marquis of Derry— Mr. Mel- 
 moth — and the Colonel. The former 
 of which, he returned immediately j by 
 leaving his card at Derry House, Park
 
 MOTHER. 69 
 
 Lane : and being invited by the gay 
 appearance of the Park, he lounged 
 along the promenade for an hour, and 
 then returned to his hotel. 
 
 At nine, in the evening, the Mar- 
 chioness called to take him to the 
 Opera. She was attended by the 
 daughters, of the Marquis, by a former 
 marriage — the Ladies Lucy and Harriet 
 Milton — they were just blooming into 
 women ; and presented interesting em.- 
 blems of two sportive Hebes. Not 
 being of an age to admit their presenta- 
 tion, and little accustomed to appear in 
 public, their manners were marked by a 
 blushing timidity — an amiable reserve 
 —forming, so strikingly, a contrast to 
 the bold vacancy of countenance he had 
 witnessed in other R-ight Honorable
 
 70 INFIDEL 
 
 females, that he was, at once, pleased 
 and astonished. A graceful mien, po- 
 lished exterior, and modulated voice, 
 gave interest to every syllable they 
 uttered. — The Marchioness appeared de- 
 lighted with Henry's attention to them ; 
 and her Ladyship's character was not a 
 little raised in our hero's opinion, by the 
 unaffected harmony, evidently existing, 
 between these lovely girls and their 
 youthful mother-in-law. 
 
 It would be tedious to pursue the 
 sameness of the Opera house — our hero 
 was delighted beyond his most romantic 
 fancy. The soul thrilling execution of 
 Grassini — the graces of Parisot — the 
 magnificence of the coup d'ocil — the 
 attraction of his party—- combined to 
 produce an assemblage of sensations
 
 MOTHER. 71 
 
 scarcely to be defined ; and Henry re* 
 tired \;\ath every sense entranced by the 
 potent magic of the fairy scene. 
 
 In the Marquis, Henry found a polish- 
 ed gentleman ; perhaps, too much de- 
 voted to self; yet elegantly attentive 
 to his guests. His newly acquired star, 
 certainly, was one very material object 
 jof his adoration, and he was for ever 
 engaged in adjusting the buckle of his 
 garter. 
 
 We have described the character of 
 the Marchioness, in the days of court- 
 ship, and the impassioned attachment of 
 her lord. Two years possession had, how- 
 ever, quelled the raptures of the latter; 
 who, now sought variety even in the 
 caresses of a farmer's daughter. Her
 
 72 INFIDEL 
 
 Ladyship was not unmindfiil of this 
 change. She thought much, and said 
 little — she was still the same in her man- 
 ners 5 ever lovely — ever, varied : alter- 
 nately, the allegro- and the penseroso of 
 the divine Milton ; and so attached to 
 her daughters-in-law, that they had 
 always lived, in the mutual confideruce of 
 sisters, with each other. The Mar- 
 chioness was a model for her sex! — 
 Mrs. Melmoth, the happiest of women, 
 in having prepared her mind, by a 
 careful education, to give lustre to her 
 exalted rank. 
 
 The third year was, now, turning on 
 its revolutionary axis, since Charlotte 
 had bestowed her person on the man 
 of her heart. A charming little boy 
 gave new enjoyment to tlieir domestic
 
 MOTKES.. YS 
 
 domestic fire-side ; and all that the most 
 amiable — the most fond — the most de- 
 voted — of men could do, to augment 
 her happiness, appeared to be the only 
 study of the enraptured Hamlyn. 
 
 Unlike the unconstant Marquis, his 
 desires fed upon possession : the lover 
 still lived in the husband : she was — as 
 she told every body — the happiest of 
 women. 
 
 It IS true, a very slender income 
 from Mr. Melmoth, did not allow them 
 much splendor ; but the deficiency was 
 supplied by the never sleeping anxieties 
 of her amiable partner. Difficulties, how- 
 ever, ensued — and an appeal was made 
 to Mr. Melmoth, through the medium 
 of her mother. This was his reply. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 INFIDEL 
 
 " Tell the proud beggar that I never 
 will countenance the fellow whom she 
 married. Let her desert, him, and re- 
 turn to me. — In such case, she may- 
 command my fortune." 
 
 The heroic Charlotte spurned at the 
 unnatural offer. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this philosophic 
 calm, vanity would sometimes be at 
 variance with love, when her mother 
 described the splendor of her sister's 
 establishment — ^particularizing obj ects 
 of dress, or ornament, to excite her ad- 
 miration ; adding, with a sigh — " Such, 
 my Charlotte, might have been your 
 lot, had you married with common 
 prudence."
 
 • MOTHER. Ti 
 
 Then, on pretence of recreating her 
 mind, this sympathising mother would 
 drive with her daughter to Mrs. Daw- 
 
 " See"— Charlotte — « what a divine 
 robe ! — Suffer me to throw it over your 
 shoulders — how infinitely it becomes 
 you— In such a dress you would^ posi- 
 tively, move a grace. What pity it is, 
 my love, you are so poor, and cannot 
 command trifles you were born to 
 adorn. I must immediately tell the 
 Marchioness to order one for the Duchess 
 of Wentworth's bal paree. I wish, my 
 dear girl, you could afford to go to these 
 places ; but that, you know, is impos- 
 sible; although every body wishes to 
 send you cards." 
 
 E 2
 
 79 mriDEJL 
 
 Wormwood 1 — Wormwood [- — Worm- 
 wood ! 
 
 Henry had heard the story of the 
 cast-ofF-daughter from his aunt, and was 
 devising means of offering her pecuniary 
 relief — when lo ! 
 
 Mrs. Hamlyn, voluntarily, returned 
 home ; and Mr. Hamlyn stood accused 
 of tyrannic and oppressive conduct. 
 
 ^« Villain'* — exclaimed Henry, when 
 he beheld the angel form and imposing 
 manners of his injured cousin — " Thus 
 to abuse the hand that raised you. — 
 Good God 1 that it should be, in man, 
 to trample on the softened beauties of 
 defenceless woman 1— Woman, whose
 
 MOTHER. 77 
 
 milder graces were contrived to polish 
 the roughness of our nature — whose 
 bosom forms the rapturous pillow to 
 repose our cares — whose every smile 
 cheers us — ^whose virtues correct us !" 
 
 This event gave rise to various com- 
 ments — a divorce was sued for, and the 
 virtuous Hamlyn left, without a shilling, 
 to contend with power, interest, and 
 wealth. 
 
 Henry, with the coming day, met 
 the coming pleasure. He had been pre- 
 sented at court — ballotted in at the dub 
 houses in St. James's Street — and re- 
 ceived cards from every -body in town. 
 He found, however, that a man of fashion 
 is the least free of any being in the 
 world. He is not permitted to think, 
 e3
 
 78 INFIDEL 
 
 or act. for himself. — Ke owns no opinion 
 but that of the town : obeys no wish in 
 opposition to its decrees. Henry had, 
 indeed, been permitted to see two or 
 three plays ; but to indulge the hope of 
 visiting the theatres^ more frequently, 
 was altogether ante-deluvian. 
 
 He heard of the fascination of Jordan, 
 the versatility of Elliston, the playfulness 
 of Duncan, the humor of Bannister, the 
 excellence of Cooke, the sublimity of 
 Siddons, the classical correctness of Kem- 
 ble. The two latter he had seen in the 
 Stranger ; but he read, in the daily 
 papers, wixh unavailing vexation, that 
 Cardinal Woolsey and Queen Katharine 
 — Coriolanus and Volumnia — Hamilet 
 and Gertrude — were reanimated, in 
 ibem^ without the power of stealing, one
 
 MOTHER. 79 
 
 evening from his engagements, to gra- 
 tify his ardent taste. 
 
 Henry, now, knew every body. He 
 played with different success at the faro 
 table ; but always punted with liberality, 
 and persisted with vehemence ; a few 
 hundreds, however, as yet balanced his 
 account. 
 
 " It was the amusement of a gentle- 
 man, and the fashion. Every body 
 played." 
 
 Such were his arguments, when he 
 argued at all; but he either did not 
 know, or forgot, that, if it was the 
 amusement of a gentleman^ it was also the 
 scie'iice of a vagabond ; and that where he 
 encountered one gamester graced with a 
 E 4
 
 80 INflDEL 
 
 ribbon, he encountered twenty who 
 would disgrace a halter. 
 
 " But it is the fashion '* 
 
 That argument^ I confess to be un- 
 answerable. 
 
 The Marchioness kept her word— * 
 Henry was her shadow — it is true, he 
 told her it was a post of danger ; but 
 was he not her cousin ; — her father's 
 sister's son ? — and who should dare to 
 whisper ought against the fair name of 
 so amiable a v/oman — so attentive a 
 wife — so exemplary a step-mother ! 
 
 Henry, however, never dreamt of 
 putting her philosophy to the trial. 
 Lady Harriet Milton was the magnet of
 
 MOTHE'ft. 81 
 
 his attraction, had he permitted himself 
 to be, seriously, in love; but Lady Har- 
 riet was not yet fifteen — and he felt, 
 that the proud Marquis of Derry would 
 spurii a commoner for liis son-in-law, 
 however extensive his rent-roll, or re- 
 spectable his family. The idea, some- 
 times, like the remembrance of a de- 
 lightful dream, fiitted cross his fancy — 
 he thought her a very superior mortal 
 — smiled — and directed his attention to 
 a less deep subject. 
 
 Mrs. Hamxlyn now^ on the high road 
 to freedom, was caressed by her papa, 
 and the darling of her happy mamma. 
 Those j^retty things — which, like the 
 bunch cf fruit that mocked the appetite 
 of the wretched Tantalus — she was 
 permitted to see, but not to grasp, 
 E 5
 
 SQ INFIDEL 
 
 now courted her acceptance. Papa pre- 
 sented her with a suit of jewels, and the 
 infatuated Charlotte gave up the reality 
 of being Queen of Hearts, for the sem- 
 blance of being: Queen of Diamonds. 
 
 She one morning called very early on 
 the Marchioness, who admitted her to 
 a tete-a-tete in her dressing room. — 
 Having discussed ordinary topics, the 
 Marchioness asked, 
 
 " For God's sake, my dear, what 
 could have induced you, first, to run 
 away with a man — in defiance of reason y 
 and then to run away from him — in 
 defiance of propriety?" 
 
 " That motive, my dear Marchioness, 
 which ever has, and ever shall, rule my 
 conduct. It zvas my will — my sove-
 
 MOTHER. 83 
 
 reign will — to marry Hamlyn. It is my 
 will to divorce him." 
 
 " You are certainly aware, Charlotte, 
 that you must give up the world if you 
 do not succeed. On what do you 
 ground your complaints, and how do 
 you substantiate them ? Papa, of course, 
 has advised with you on the occasion.'' 
 
 " I want no advice, sister. Papa, 
 however, does sanction the step I have 
 taken. Ill usage, and adultery with my 
 x)wn maid, are my pretexts. Witnesses 
 ?nay be had any day." 
 
 " Indeed I — Oaths are sacred things." 
 
 " This from you, Emma? — what a 
 E 6
 
 84 INFIDEL 
 
 charming moralist! — May I ask how 
 long you have been so conscientious ?" - 
 
 " Ever since I have had understand- 
 ing enough to blifid the world with a 
 false shew of honor, and indulge my 
 humours a la sourdine. You see the 
 character I preserve in the world, by 
 my attachment to a man I despise^ while 
 my heart- - oh, is not Henry a divine 
 feUow ?" 
 
 " Henry ! — I thought Captain Newby 
 was the undisputed m.aster of your affec- 
 tions r" 
 
 " And so he was — but then I had 
 never seen Henry. Besides, Newby is 
 on the continent 5 and may be shot
 
 MOTHER. 85 
 
 through the head : flenry is daily pre- 
 sent, and points new arrows at my 
 heart." 
 
 " Take my advice, Emma^ and do not 
 trust that reputation you have so studi- 
 ously preserved, to the keeping of a boy 
 — a vain, giddy, boy; undistinguished 
 by a single intrigue with any woman of 
 spirit." 
 
 " Pray, sister, is not a certain Viscount 
 from a sister kingdom, a boy ? — and 
 do you not know a certain woman of 
 spirit, with v/hom he has been lery 
 'particukr. You need not blush, so 
 deeply, my love, I am no father con- 
 fessor — ^but between you and I, a little 
 more candour, miethinks, would not be
 
 86 INFIDEL 
 
 unbecoming. Is it not on his account 
 that you seek this divorce ?" 
 
 " Well then, to be really candid — 
 yes ! — I seek the divorce that we may 
 enjoy our meetings free from fear \ for 
 though, with 7ne^ Hamlyn was as gentle 
 and sportive as a pet lamb — if he sus- 
 pected any thing, he would spring like a 
 very tiger on my poor Viscount. — That, 
 I would avoid." 
 
 *' So then — without any reason to be 
 dissatisfied with Hamlyn, you are about 
 to sacrifice him to a new passion ; and 
 ruin him, Vvdthout remorse of consci- 
 
 ence." 
 
 Exactly — did I not ruin myself for
 
 MOTHER. 87 
 
 him. Turn and turn about, is fair play 
 you know, my dear." 
 
 " But if you don't succeed ? — tell me, 
 where is your little urchin ?" 
 
 " As to success — his poverty 7nust 
 ensure that, aided by the chain of evi- 
 dence I shall bring into court. — As to 
 the beggar's brat — let him sell matches, 
 while his father sings ballads — the man 
 has a pretty taste enough, and may, now, 
 turn it to advantage : We are all the 
 creatures of chance — some high ; some 
 low — chequering life, like the squares 
 upon a chess board." 
 
 The tete-a-tete broke off here. Henry 
 was to call at two, and the Marchioness 
 was impatient to dress.
 
 88 INFl-DEL 
 
 If any one should suppose Mr. Mel- 
 moth was exceeding the limits of pru- 
 dence, by the splendid presents he made 
 his newly recovered daughter — we beg 
 leave to whisper the reader, under the 
 strictest injunctions not to mention it 
 again to a living soulj that the old East 
 Indian lover — who had not grown 
 younger in four years — stood pledged 
 to reimburse his friend for the expen- 
 ces, not only of those rich baubles, but 
 also for those to be incurred by the 
 divorce ; and it was, finally, agreed 
 between these gentlemen, that Char- 
 lotte still should be Nabobess. 
 
 AVhat the lady may have to say, we 
 leave to time. 
 
 A w^himsical circumstance happened 
 about this time, one morning, in Cock-
 
 MOTHER. 89 
 
 spur-Street : and although my readers 
 may consider it too trifling to form a 
 paragraph in this important history ) yet 
 as it occupied the chit-chat of every 
 fashionable tea-table for the day ; and 
 as every thing fashionable claims our 
 most serious attention ; we hold our- 
 selves bound to enroll the momentous 
 record. 
 
 A lady of haut ton had driven to 
 JefFery's, on a very rainy day, when the 
 streets were particularly dirty ; and her 
 obliging coachman drew up his carriage, 
 in so very accommodating a situation for 
 the foot passengers, that no resource 
 was left them, except that of 'wading 
 through the mud. 
 
 Dissappointed in finding the causeway 
 thus stopped ; and hoping her ladyship
 
 go INFIDEL 
 
 was about to retire, as the footmen held 
 the carriage door ; a little mob, of a 
 dozen well dressed persons, had assem- 
 bled before the shop. 
 
 *' Hilloa, messmates ! — said an honest 
 tar, advancing to the center — which 
 way does the wind blow now ? — ^what, 
 weather bound in the chops of the 
 Channel! — d — m my eyes but I'll be 
 your commodore, and lead the van— 
 here's my broad pendant" — ^unfurling a 
 red silk handkerchief ! — " and mind, d'ye 
 see me, that you obey signals, my hear- 
 
 So saying, he sprang into the carriage ; 
 and opening the opposite door, walked, 
 unconcernedly, across the swept pave- 
 ment ; observing, nevertheless, that the 
 passage was more difficult than the
 
 MOTHER. 91 
 
 Straights of Gibraltar. Every body 
 followed, to tlie great annoyance of her 
 ladyship's Opera slippers, her pug's 
 cushion, and a highly finished rug. 
 
 Two powdered lacqueys — each six 
 feet high — stood staring, w^ith distended 
 eyes, upon this unexpected scene — ^not, 
 gentle reader, like the Prince of Den- 
 mark when he sees his father's ghost — 
 that flight would be too sublime — ^but 
 like the half-starved sentry, at the gates 
 of Calais, when Madame Grandsire's 
 cook, — " bending beneath the weight of 
 fam'd Sir Loin," — crossed him, on his 
 post. 
 
 Let those who do not like my way of 
 telling a story, turn over the double 
 leaf, and consign i,t to oblivion.
 
 92 INFIDEL 
 
 Among the various scenes of fashion- 
 able resort, our hero was invited to a 
 grand entertainment at the Royal Kent- 
 ish Bowman's Lodge. 
 
 This society, one of the most chosen 
 in the kingdom, flourishes under the 
 patronage of His Royal Highness the 
 Prince of Wales; who annually presents 
 them with a superbly chased bugle, to be 
 conferred on the ablest archer, as a per- 
 petual trophy of his prowess. 
 
 The Lodge is situated on Dartford 
 Heath ; and, like the fairy palace of the 
 Princess Paribanon, is impervious to the 
 common gaze of the itinerant. It con- 
 sists in a ground floor, comprehending a 
 saloon equal to the entertainment of two 
 hundred persons. The pannels, round
 
 MOTHER. ^5 
 
 the room, are divided into compart- 
 ments, each forming a bowman's cabi- 
 net; and ornamented with his arms, on 
 corresponding plates of silver. This 
 room leads to an equally spacious ball 
 room, ornamented at the top with a full 
 length portrait of the Prince, finely exe- 
 cuted, and presented, by himself, to the 
 society. 
 
 His Royal Highness is described in the 
 uniform — grass green lined with buff 
 casimere; vest and small-clothes to cor- 
 respond ; with a plumed round hat ; 
 the button gilt, with the letters R. K. B. 
 surmounted by the Prince's crest. His 
 Highness reclines on his bow. 
 
 The large mirrors of this apartment, 
 the girandoles, and other ornaments, are
 
 94; INFIDEL 
 
 all surmounted with the royal plume ^ 
 and beneath the royal portrait stands a 
 Chair of State on elevated carpetings. 
 
 A music room, and other retiring 
 rooms, conclude the building; which, 
 is fronted by abeautifullawn5Surrounded 
 on either side by a shrubbery, and open, 
 at the extremity, to an almost boundless 
 view of the surrounding country — with 
 the Thames, in all its variegated splen- 
 dor — and towers, as it were, independ- 
 ently of every neighbouring object, over 
 the town and environs of Dartford. 
 
 On the law^n, at regulated distances, 
 are fixed targets. 
 
 The wines and liquors are of tlie 
 choicest quality, from the cellars of the
 
 MOTHER. 95 
 
 society. A steward provides the eat- 
 ables, and servants, bearing the livery of 
 the lodge, attend the table. 
 
 On the ordinary days of meeting, 
 several of the finest singers of catches 
 and glees regularly attend; and the com- 
 pany pass- their evening in a perpetual 
 change of harmony: but, on their grand 
 days, when the ladies of the neighbour- 
 hood, and the nobility of the metropo- 
 lis, grace the scene ; the whole is en- 
 chantment. 
 
 During the winter, private theatricals 
 are sustained, and those most ably. The 
 best FalstafF, since the days of Henderson, 
 treads these boards: There are others, 
 among the members, eminently conspi- 
 cuous for their talent in the mimic art.
 
 96 INFIDEL 
 
 The birth-day now approached: Our 
 hero had three carriages corning out, 
 A dress vis-a-vis — a town chariot — a 
 barouche. The whole simply elegant. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Melmoth, the Marquis 
 and Marchioness, were of Henry's party. 
 Mrs. Hamlyn panted to display her 
 jewels; but the delicacy of her situation 
 forbade her public appearance; and she 
 consented to this sacrifice, as a prelimi- 
 nary to the fulfilment of her chaste 
 wishes. 
 
 Our hero's appearance at St. James's 
 bespoke, at once, the magnificence of hit 
 taste, and the splendor of his establish- 
 ment. The day of ceremony passed j 
 the following Sunday was devoted to 
 Kensington Garden^; when all the
 
 MOTHER. 97 
 
 fashionable world hurried from town, 
 with one accord, and desolated even 
 Bond Street, 
 
 Arrangements were made in the Mel- 
 moth family, and the following week 
 destined them for Brigliton. The Mar- 
 chioness, preparatory to the excursion, 
 thought it decent to give a few days to 
 the Marquis, and the Ladies Lucy and 
 Harriet, w^ho were to pass their summer 
 at tlie Marquis's country seat — a few 
 miles from town — called the Abbey. 
 
 While her heart, however, was danc- 
 ing with pleasure, at the dear contem- 
 plation of that retirement, which might 
 be, sometimes, stolen at Brighton, and 
 devoted to Henry and love; that 
 POWER, whose empire she disputed^ 
 
 VOL. I, F
 
 98 INFIDEL 
 
 frustrated her will on the eve of its 
 fondest accomplishment. 
 
 Driving to town, the day previous to 
 her intended excursion, in an open car- 
 riage with the Marquis; their horses 
 took fright: by which accident botli 
 were thrown out — her Ladyship was 
 very much bruized — and the Marqui? 
 still more seriously a sufferer. 
 
 Instead of the gay vision that wan- 
 toned in the fancy of this accomplished 
 Infidel — instead of the fulfilment of her 
 paramount decrees, Providence has con- 
 demned her to the retirement of a suf- 
 fering husband, whom she despised j 
 and whose temper, naturally morose, 
 was, now, insupportable.
 
 MOTHER. 99 
 
 But who shall, presumptuously, say — 
 This will I do to-morrow 1 
 
 Life is pregnant ^dth evil, and the 
 hour of disappointment awaits, alike, 
 the virtuous and the profligate: with 
 the one, a cheerful piety — a holy resig- 
 nation — gilds the immutable decree: 
 with the other, inclination rebels against 
 the check — and conscience, uncontroled 
 by reason, spurns at the chastisement. 
 
 ReUgion is the parent of hum.ility; it 
 teaches us to doubt the strength of our 
 own understanding — to cultivate the 
 early seeds of penitence: To eschew 
 evil— and to do good. How much, 
 then, does it behove the parent so to till 
 the early mind of her growing offspring, 
 F 2
 
 100 INFIDEL 
 
 that the fruit of morality may spring 
 up. 
 
 The morning of life, thus sweetly and 
 fervently disposed, dawns with a day 
 of cheerfulness, and closes with an even- 
 ing of ineffable composure. 
 
 But when the weeds of prejudice sully 
 the fair garden of youth, the task of re- 
 formation is difficult, indeed! Opposed 
 by fixed opinions, habits, inferences — 
 w^ho can, successfully, combat with the 
 perverted zeal thus firmly rooted? 
 
 From the infidel mother, springs the 
 infidel daughter; and the uncorrected 
 system extends its baneful sophistry to 
 after generations. Yet the time will
 
 MOTHER. 10 I 
 
 come— however averted for the mo- 
 ment — ^when the infidel, uncheered by 
 mental consolation — unassured by the 
 comforts of religion — \\ill thirst for the 
 corrections that lead to true enjoyment; 
 and look backward, with regret, on the 
 transitory pleasures of a mis-spent life! 
 
 Mrs. Melmoth, Mrs. Hamlyn, and 
 Henry, thus deprived of their fourth, 
 made a trio to Brighton; where they 
 arrived, a few days before the races. 
 The Prince was at his charming pavil- 
 lion ; his band, and two regimental bands, 
 occupied different posts on the Steyne> 
 to charm the lovely crowd, that every 
 evening gave it the appearance of au 
 Elysian field. 
 
 " Heavens!'' — exclaimed Henry, men- 
 f3
 
 102 INFIDEL 
 
 tally, the first evening he retired from 
 the fascinating scene — " surely England 
 monopolizes all the beauty of the world! 
 — Such forms!— such limbs! — ^Hail to 
 all potent fashion, that with transparent 
 muslins, can convert this spot to Eden, 
 and give to every female votary the 
 semblance of another Eve! 
 
 " The finely rounded arm, which is, 
 * when unadorned, adorned the most' — 
 the exquisitely moulded bosom, swelling 
 beneath the light pressure of a gauze that 
 still augments its beauties ;■— the whole 
 symmetry of person, speaking through 
 the drapery of an ornamental robe, and 
 luxuriously displaying every graceful 
 motion of the whole !'' 
 
 The Steyne is the abstract of Ken-
 
 MOTHER. 103 
 
 sington Gardens — the same groupes — 
 the same appearance — the same crowd! 
 but the crowd of crowds is the squeeze 
 after the opera! There the full-swoln 
 limbs of mingling sexes dove-tail with 
 each other — the dropt hand riots — and 
 that which is uplifted, tangles, at every 
 movement, with the tippet of some 
 neighbouring fair one. If collision had 
 the quality of polishing objects — the 
 days of Chesterfield would be semi-bar- 
 barous, compared with the existing 
 hour. 
 
 ^ But in these former scenes, Henry 
 had no soul for comment. Lady Har- 
 riet hung upon his arm ; and his wliole 
 world was epitomized in her. 
 
 Here he breathed more freely 5 and it 
 F 4
 
 104 INFIDEL 
 
 was soon observed by scandal-mongers, 
 that he chose early hours to walk up 
 the cliffs, accompanied by the lovely 
 Caroline Aylmer^ whose unusually 
 splendid equipage, and appearance on 
 the Course, had, previously, awakened 
 all the eagerness of inquiry. Now, it 
 was loudly whispered at all the libraries 
 — ^' that she was the protegee of a cer- 
 tain wealthy young Creole, with an esta- 
 blishment of two hundred guineas per 
 month." 
 
 The truth is — and, as we value our 
 reputation as faithful historians, we de- 
 clare — ^Henry was no Joseph; and he 
 sought, in this temporary amour, to re- 
 press the encroaching passion with which 
 he contemplated every recollection of 
 the amiable Harriet. And as he con-
 
 MOTHER. 105 
 
 sidered it a hopeless suit, he was too 
 much a man of honor to seek the en- 
 tanglement of her affections ; preferring, 
 desperately, thus to make himself un- 
 worthy her affections, if — as he, some- 
 times, dared to think — she listened to 
 him with preference. 
 
 Reader! — I have not told you that 
 Henry was a man of fashion ; I merely 
 represent him as a frequenter of fashion; 
 therefore, prithee, do not sneer contemp- 
 tuously on the foregoing passage. 
 
 Having described the sensual plea- 
 sures of this fashionable Hfe ; let us, for 
 a moment, inspect its intellectual refine- 
 ments. 
 
 The common topics, with the male 
 
 f5
 
 106 iNPlBEL 
 
 haut ton, are; hoaxing each other, and 
 quizzing the natives : proposals foi> new 
 bets, and the arrangement of old ones: 
 the speed of their horses, and the prow- 
 ess of their dogs: certain shrugs and 
 half sentences, vice, ideas— invalided: 
 and, a determination, ne?n: con- never ta 
 attend to a great man, when a still greater 
 man happens to be in the circle. 
 
 Among the females predominate, th^ 
 art of affecting singularity; skill in equi- 
 voque; unblushing effrontery; a com* 
 pound of heterogeneous questions with- 
 out meaning; and a deaf ear to every 
 thing in the shape of reply. 
 
 And who compose this brilliant 
 throng?
 
 MOTHER. 107 
 
 It is as various as the climate we 
 breathe. Groupes of real rank defying 
 scand^: groupes of 710 rank mistaking 
 it for celebrity. Women of quality ^ and 
 women of the town^ emulating each 
 other, in ton — dash — and profusion. 
 Right Honorable blacklegs, and blacklegs 
 without any honor: Lords imitating 
 Jockeys; Jockeys imitating Lords: 
 Knights of the Bath, and Knights of the 
 post'. Peers, and pickpockets ; mingling 
 in 2l fashionable mob. 
 
 As to the amusements — they are un- 
 varied beyond the business of the day. 
 Bathing — a lounge amongthe libraries — 
 donkey riding on the cliffs — rival cha- 
 rioteering along the road— dining — 
 crowding the Steyne — filling the raffle 
 f6
 
 108 INFIDEL 
 
 shops — and though last — not least — my 
 Lady Puntwell's faro-table. 
 
 This is the fashionable succedaneuin 
 for the spirit of hospitality which digni- 
 fied the characters of our forefathers; 
 who preferred the manor-house of their 
 ancestors to a cottage ornee; and the 
 honest cheerfulness of their tenants, 
 round the great oak table, every quarter 
 day, to the emigration of folly after this, 
 or that, obscure, fishing town — ^because 
 it is the fashion! 
 
 Our hero had the honor to drive his 
 aunt and cousin to the Course : four 
 beautiful blood greys obeyed his rein, 
 ^nd two outriders attended to his nod. 
 
 Wealth maybe compared to the eddy
 
 MOTHER. 10'^ 
 
 of a whirlpool, which draws surround- 
 ing objects within its vortex of attrac- 
 tion. Our hero was surrounded by 
 equestrians; the sport began — the odds 
 ran high — three to one, Gog and Magog 
 against the field: five to one — six to 
 one — ten to one — G02: and MaQ;o2: 
 against the field. When lo! just as this 
 favorite rounded the distance post, he, 
 suddenly, bolted out of the Course. 
 
 What a scene for the descriptive pen- 
 cil of the inimitable Hogarth! Helter 
 skelter, every one pressed forward to the 
 spot. They could not alter the fact — 
 the odds were beaten — and Henry re- 
 ceived five times one thousand pounds. 
 
 In these winnings, however, he went 
 halves with Sir George Airy, who occu-
 
 110 INFIDEL 
 
 pied the box, with him, on his ba-, 
 rouche. 
 
 The following morning, Henry called 
 on Sir George, at one o'clock, to invest 
 him with the opma spoUa of the pre- 
 ceding day. 
 
 Sir George, in his gown and slippers, 
 lounged, listlessly, on a superb Ottoman 
 • — his forehead bound with a cambric 
 handkerchief. 
 
 Half rising to receive his guest, — he 
 exclaimed in a sort of demi-semi-lisp : 
 
 " Dying, my dear fellow — absolutely, 
 dying — such a confounded head ache ! — 
 oh, my cursed frame !-^I am all nerve. 
 Will you take coffee ?— 'tis most excel-
 
 MOTHLR. Ill 
 
 lent — I procured the receipt from an 
 elegante at Paris — or will you taste this 
 liqueur? — Can't do \\dthout it — winds 
 me up — sets me going — I should be 
 still — still as the midnight hour without 
 it. Goutez en^mc'/i amie — 'tis the leritable 
 Martinique — Crime de Noyau^ and Crime 
 de Barbade:' 
 
 Henr}' did not drink drams in the 
 morning; and declined this courteous 
 offering. — Sir George continued : 
 
 " Up all night at hazard — ^lost a neat 
 fifteen hundred — called up little Stott 
 coming home, — You know the little 
 angel, Mr. Torrid?" 
 
 " I have seen her,''— replied Henr)',
 
 112 INFIDEL 
 
 ' — " her person is good ; and her man- 
 ners, I am told, seductive.'' 
 
 " Oh ! — she's an ansrel ! — received 
 me so obligingly, although she had 
 retired two hours before — apropos — 
 pressed on her acceptance a diamond 
 cross and ear-rings, which I caught her 
 f ancying^yesterday , at Barratt's — left her, 
 at nine, in raptures with her wit and badi- 
 nage. — She is really a belle esprit — and 
 then so disinterested — she never will 
 allow me to present her with a single 
 guinea. — Sometim.es I contrive to hide a 
 fifty pound note in her ridicule — and 
 then I am so happy. — She can't guess 
 where it comes from, you know, — and 
 so is obliged to keep it — is not that an 
 admirable finesse?"
 
 MOTHE R. 1 1 S 
 
 " Truly admirable" — replied Henry 
 — " and I am come, most opportunely ;, to 
 give a fillip to your generosity. Here 
 are your winnings — notes for two thou- 
 sand five hundred pounds.*' 
 
 " What shall we do ?-— where shall we 
 gc — my dear fellow^ I am up to any 
 thing?" — exclaimed Sir George, starting 
 from his couch, and throwing oS his 
 robe de chambre — I had half imagined 
 an Epigram, when you came in — but 
 n'irnporte — that will do another time." 
 
 Then, wholly forgetting that he was 
 quite dead — he dressed in an instant j 
 and took Henry's arm towards the 
 Steyne. 
 
 " Death and furies" — vociferated Sir
 
 114 INFIDEL 
 
 George, as they passed the Castle — 
 *' There's the old Baronet's carriage — 
 just come down, I see — impossible, now, 
 to get a peep at my little Stott. — Old 
 fellow, cursedly jealous, and surrounds 
 her in a magic circle, with his d — d 
 black rod*'* 
 
 In the evening, while Henry was 
 promonading with his aunt and cousin, 
 the Prince joined their party. 
 
 What an abord ! — what a bow !- — 
 what a smile ! — Henry couid have gazed 
 for ever, on this accomplished model of 
 a finished gentleman. Then his con- 
 versation — how unlike the flippant jar- 
 gon of a modern coxcomb !— his man- 
 ner appearing to receive honor, where 
 he so highly conferred it.
 
 MOTHER. 115 
 
 But how infinitely was Henry's ad- 
 miration increased, on the following day, 
 when he had the honor to dine at the 
 pavillion. Such urbanity of manners ! 
 — the awe of illustrious rank removed 
 by the most fascinating condescension. 
 Wit supplied the agency of puns ; and 
 the Champaign evaporated in the most 
 brilliant sallies. His Royal Highness sang. 
 — It was the feast of the soul ! — ^Henry 
 thought he had never lived till this 
 day. 
 
 The races concluded, without any 
 further event deserving* notice ; and an 
 interregnum of a fortnight preceded the 
 Lewes sports. 
 
 In tills interim, walking matches were 
 made — riding matches — and driving
 
 116 INFIDEL 
 
 matches. — One gentleman was to ride 
 from the turnpike at Hyde Park Corner, 
 within three months, to the Cathedral 
 at York in twelve hours — to use as 
 many different horses as he pleased. — 
 A lady was to walk against a gentleman, 
 on the Brighton sands — one mile for a 
 thousand guineas — ^play or pay — but the 
 most remarkable bet of the whole was 
 the following. 
 
 " There," says Tom Hazard — point- 
 ing to a thorough bred horse, his groom 
 was leading roundDonaldson's — "there's 
 blood and bone for you — bet any man, 
 there's not such a leaper in the united 
 kingdom — and I say done first." 
 
 " I'll bet five hundred, that I have 
 an old blind hunter at grass, that shall
 
 MOTHER. 117 
 
 leap over luhat your horse will not'' — 
 answered a bye-stander. 
 
 *' Done — and done — ^for fiv^. hun- 
 dred, this day fortnight." '*Jwo^ 
 
 *' No — the day before Lewes races !*' 
 " Agreed." 
 
 The exact words of the bet were noted 
 down. 
 
 An Brighton was filled with expecta- 
 tion — the eventful morning came — ^big 
 with the fate of jockies and of grooms 
 — and the leap was declared. 
 
 " There,'*-*— said the owner of the
 
 118 INFIDEL 
 
 blind hunter — " there's your leap*'— 
 laying a straw across the path. 
 
 jj^,x%'bite, by God,'' — roared out the 
 knowing ones. 
 
 " Read the bet" — ^said the gentle* 
 man. 
 
 It was read — and expressly said — 
 " What your horse will not" — he then 
 mounted his bUnd hunter j and just as 
 he approached the straw, he stuck in his 
 spurs, raised up his horse's head, and 
 with a—" hark over, my hoy'^ "^cleared 
 the straw in great style. 
 
 Blood and bone, however, would not 
 rise to the leap-^the bet was disputed—
 
 MOTHER. 119 
 
 and now remains to be settled by the 
 Jockey Club. 
 
 In the walking match — bets ran high 
 at starting against the Honorable Miss 
 Rantipole — ^but she brought up her 
 speed famously — and had just passed 
 her opponent, within twenty paces of 
 the goal, when the waistband of her 
 Turkish drawers, yielding to the powers 
 of friction, Miss Rantipole — like an old 
 woman running in a sack— bit the sands 
 in dolorous lamentation. 
 
 This was as bad as Gog and Magog J 
 —the whole place was in an uproar. 
 The bathing women, who had been 
 staunch in support of the ho7ior of their 
 sex^ began quarrelling — words produced 
 blows— a ring here— and a rmg there
 
 J 20 INFIDEL 
 
 — " fair play, by Juno"— cried a Right 
 Honorable amateur — " Come here, Moll 
 ril be your bottle holder, demme." 
 
 His lordship, as he had so gallantly 
 promised, encouraged the fair pugilist, 
 — supporting her loveliness^ after a knock 
 down blow, upon one knee, kneeling 
 on the other. His lordship was success- 
 ful — ^Moll gained the day — and was led 
 home in triumph — her " full-blown honors 
 blushing o^er her head*^ — attended by a 
 crowd as numerous as the Ovation of 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 While the higher classes were thus, 
 rationally, engaged, two dashing coach- 
 men — determined to emulate the genius 
 of their superiors — ^made a bet, of five 
 guineas, to drive four horses, in hand.
 
 MOTHER. 121 
 
 to Lewes and back again — the leaders 
 against the wheelers. 
 
 Having arranged the business ; each 
 of them took a . pair of horses from his 
 master's stable. The issue v/as, that 
 three, of the four, horses dieci — two on 
 the spot — they were of value. 
 
 This puts us in mind of a scene in the 
 School for Scandal, when Charles Sur- 
 face's uncle goes to visit him, incog. 
 
 ^' Toil 'vil shce mishter Sbarles i?2 all bis 
 ■glory, sher,'' said Moses — but the little 
 Nabob, little expected to find the foot- 
 ?nan of his dissipated nephew, eagerly 
 negociating a post-obit loan with Moses, 
 before he luould admit them to lend 
 money to his master. 
 
 VOL. J. O
 
 122 INFIDEL 
 
 Such is the noble effect of fashionable 
 example I 
 
 In the midst of all this busy scene — 
 by some called pleasurable — Mrs. Ham- 
 lyn received a long letter from the 
 Marchioness — full of tender lamenta- 
 tions; not for the protracted confine- 
 ment of the Marquis ; but for her own 
 privations. Her ladyship, however, was 
 not forgetful to inform the world, 
 through the convenient medium of the 
 Morning Post, that, 
 
 " The amiable Marchioness of Derry 
 was unfashionably playing the nurse, at 
 the couch of her suffering husband, 
 whom she unceasingly attended, admi- 
 nistering every draught with her own 
 fair hand.
 
 MOTHER. 123 
 
 Her ladyship, particularly, inquired if 
 the report was true, as to Henry's at- 
 tachment with the odious Caroline — re- 
 conciling to herself, however, a cer- 
 tainty ; that it was a mere en passant 
 engagement ; and would, in no wise, 
 steel his heart against her well-regulated 
 attacks. 
 
 These she had planned to have taken 
 place at Brighton ; but now deferred 
 them to the ensuing winter: merely send- 
 ing her baisejna'ms to her cousin , and 
 hoping he found amusement in his ex- 
 cursion. 
 
 This was Mrs. Hamlyn's reply : 
 
 *' My dear ISferchioness, Brigblon. 
 
 " I was strumming a vile instrument, 
 g2
 
 J 24 • INFIDEL 
 
 this morning, to one of Braham's airs ; 
 and squalling perfectly en unison, when 
 the young Viscount, whom I expected, 
 entered. I read in his line intelligent 
 eyes a pleasurable communication, and 
 whimsically striking the chords, I re- 
 peated : 
 
 Beau page — ah, mon beau page. 
 Miron ton, ton, ton, 
 Miron talne. 
 Beau page — ah, mon beau page, 
 Quelle nouvelle apportez ? 
 
 He gave me your letter ; and I gave him 
 
 The dear 
 
 fellow is always so delighted when he 
 can oblige me ; and had been waiting an 
 hour at the post-office, for the earliest 
 delivery, to have the pleasure of present- 
 ing me with my letters.
 
 MOTHEI?. 125 
 
 ^' ' Marry him then, Charlotte,'— you 
 will say — as soon as you are fixe. 
 
 " Not so fast, my good Marchioness: 
 I have no wish to spoil him ; his atten- 
 tions now are founded on the purest 
 affection — he fears to oflFend me — and a 
 mutual desire to please, makes us su- 
 premely happy in each other. Marry ; 
 and we should become as fashionably 
 indifferent as our neighbours. 
 
 " Brighton is delightfully crowded. 
 We pay fourteen guineas a week for 
 our house on the East Cliff; but I have 
 not met with any agreeable novelty, 
 except a ^u'wlejit intimacy I have formed 
 with a very dashing woman — a foreigner 
 — who is quite the rage here. Extremely 
 beautiful — extremely good natured — 
 
 G 3
 
 126 INflDKL 
 
 and extremely fashionable. Not very 
 young ; but irresistibly amiable in her 
 manners. It is whispered, that she is 
 separated from her husband, and is 
 rather gay ; but all the world notices 
 her, and these reports certainly originate 
 in envy. She admires mamma, pro- 
 digiously; and the compliment is re- 
 turned : so v/e are often together. 
 
 " This m.orning I devoted to retire- 
 ment and love. — Every body was gone 
 to Lewes — delicious remembrance ! 
 
 " ?^amma talks of moving to Rams- 
 gate in another fortnight, if this place, 
 as usual, begins to thin. I wish you 
 were in our party. Henry is well ; and 
 returns your Souvenir, Adieu — 'tis past
 
 MOTHER. 127 
 
 two in the morning, and I ^.m-^somebow, 
 rather fatigued. 
 
 " Yours very afTectionately, 
 
 " C. HamlyxX." 
 
 History informs us, that not many 
 reigns ago, privileged persons were 
 maintained at court, to amuse by their 
 wit, — their eccentricity, — or their follies. 
 This custom is, by no means, abohshed 
 in the present day : and although great 
 men do not entertain jesters for their 
 amusement; many jesters frolic, at every 
 pubhc place, and are received, on various 
 pretences — or, to answer various ends. 
 
 Among these modern buffoons, every 
 body must have noticed a litde skipping 
 sort of Champanzee — half an animal and 
 G 4
 
 128 INFIDEL 
 
 half a man— on the perpetual hop, step, 
 and jump, after every demirep of ton. 
 He pays for their fruity coffee, ^nd bon- 
 bons ^ and is, therefore, tolerated. 
 
 My gentleman, however, took it into 
 his head , — because Caroline always laugh - 
 ed, immoderately, at his absurdities, 
 — that she was charmed with his attrac- 
 tions : and being rich as another Croesus, 
 he mustered courage to send her a very 
 tender billet, enclosing a bank note /for 
 an hundred pounds j and soliciting ten 
 rnimites conversation. 
 
 The note was accepted ; and an 
 appointment made. His surprize, how- 
 ever, was very great — on entering the 
 room — to find Mr. Torrid with his 
 dulcinea.
 
 MOTHER. 129 
 
 She arose ; politely presenting the 
 gentlemen to each other : " Mr. Torrid" 
 — " I^<Ir. Tellessiere" — upon which she 
 placed her watch on the table. 
 
 " Bless me— Mr. Torrid! You are 
 the very man I wanted to see. — Pray, do 
 me the pleasure to dine at ?}iy house 
 to-morrow, and give me your opinion of 
 my cook, and ?uy cellar. — Heartily wel- 
 come, I assure you, my dear friend — 
 heartily welcome." 
 
 This short- speech was uttered with 
 so much confusion, and v/ith so many 
 trembling breaths ; that he had scarcely 
 finished it. before Caroline arose, and 
 shewing him the watch, told him- — his 
 ten minutes were expired. 
 
 G ^
 
 130 INFIDEL 
 
 The servant, immediately answering 
 the bell, was desired to shew Mr. Telles- 
 siere out. 
 
 " And, harkee, my friend" — said 
 Henry, following to the top of the stairs 
 — " If I catch you, again, poaching in 
 my manor — my servant shall make you 
 heartily welcome to my horse-whip.'* 
 
 The Lewes races had nothing in 
 them remarkable: it was a transfer of 
 company from one town to another : 
 and the money was won and lost 
 mechanically. Among the crowd, how- 
 ever, of nondescript buggies, and smart 
 taxed carts, the unicorn wheelbarrow of 
 a dashing blade, from Change AJley — 
 ** stopped the way,"
 
 MOTHER. 131 
 
 Bob Discount was the boy to astonish 
 the natives. A narrow driving box, 
 mounted on a lofty dog cart, moved on a 
 single wheel ; and was drawn, or rather 
 harnessed with, three sleek cropped don- 
 kies in nankeen night caps : but three 
 asses proved too much for one — and 
 having made a certain run with the 
 carriage, at starting, they came to a 
 sudden halt : tucked the little reninant 
 of their tails between their legs ; and, 
 finally, dropped on their knees, as de- 
 voutly as if they had been in a Metho- 
 dist chapel. 
 
 This was a terrible mortification to 
 Bob— the tables were turned — and the 
 town blood became the laughing stock 
 of the natives, whom he had travelled 
 upwards of fifty miles purposely to quiz* 
 G 6
 
 132 INFIDEL 
 
 A few mornings after was devoted to 
 a. cock-fight; and Henry not taking any 
 pleasure in that sort oi amusement^ left the 
 ladies to be chaperoned by the gay Vis- 
 count. 
 
 The Steyne was isolated; and Henry 
 had taken a turn or two, when he per- 
 ceived a gendeman, crossing from the 
 Pavillion, who was generally known by 
 the name of the Dumb Man, 
 
 A person rather bent — more perhaps 
 fi'om habit than age — ^features in whicli 
 Lavater vv^ould have read so many re- 
 ceipts for making epigrams — and an air 
 of formal superiority — characterised the 
 man. His appearance was of the last 
 century : A suit of snuff-coloured broad 
 cloth with round gold basket buttons —
 
 MOTHER. 133 
 
 small gold buckles to his shoes^--a rose 
 to his hair — and a diiijinutive cocked 
 hat. 
 
 He passed every forenoon at Donald- 
 son's; but no one had ever heard lurn 
 speak. Henry, therefore, was more than 
 surprised, when this singular Cynic apr 
 proached him, and with the polished 
 address of a gentleman of the veil coiir^ 
 requested his company for half an hour. 
 
 Henry readily acquiesced; and they 
 mounted the eastern Cliff. 
 
 After a little prefatory conversation, 
 the Dumb Man thus addressed our hero. 
 
 " You are doubtlessly surprised, 
 young gentleman, at the Uberty I have
 
 134 INFIDEL 
 
 just taken, with you, in opposition to 
 my usual habit: but your countenance 
 pleases me. I behold an ingenuous candor, 
 uncontaminated by courtly hypocrisy 
 —defined good breeding — that pleases 
 . me. I see you surrounded by dangerous 
 pleasures, with the warmth of youth 
 to gild the fascination, and a fortune 
 which enables you to wish and to com- 
 mand. I would be your Mentor.'^ 
 
 •* I do, indeed, confess myself sur- 
 prised" — answered Henry — " but most 
 agreeably so. Your manner is irresist- 
 ibly impressive; and I would, most wil- 
 lingly, become the pupil of your counsel 
 and experience." 
 
 " You confirm me" — replied the old 
 gentleman — " by the unaffected Ian-
 
 MOTHER. 135 
 
 guage of your address. With ninety- 
 nine out of a hundred, I should be 
 laughed at for my impertinence; and 
 compelled to leave the place, or run the 
 gauntlet every time I again appeared in 
 public. 
 
 *' It was not, always so, my young 
 friend. When I was a boy, a gentle- 
 man was as well known by his dress 
 and his address, as by his arms and 
 his liveries. Now — good lack a day !— 
 the one resembles the buffooneries of a 
 Scaramouch — the other, all thechequer'd 
 variety of a Harlequin. 
 
 " Then^ the gentleman was known by 
 his polished manners; and his embroi- 
 dered coat bespoke his rank. Now, the 
 easy graces of an Angelo are lost in the
 
 1S6 INFIDEL 
 
 knowinof swincr of a pugilist: and the 
 only ciifierence between the master and 
 the valet, is, that the latter sometmies 
 shews a semblance of modesty." 
 
 "' You are rather severe, my good 
 Sir" — retorted Henry — " the mariners 
 change vrith the age ; and if your grand- 
 father could start from his frame in your 
 picture gallery — he would find as much 
 to censure in your appearance, as you 
 find in mine." 
 
 *" Then^'^ continued the Cynic — -^^'ith- 
 put replying to Henry's remark — " our 
 daughters w^ere m^odest — our wives vir- 
 tuous. I do not, by this latter expres- 
 sion, mean to infer, that virtue is obso- 
 lete in the present day. No ! there are, 
 I am convinced, many women who prc«
 
 MOTHER. 137 
 
 serve the chastity of their persons, while 
 their minds are famihar with every spe- 
 cies of depravity. 
 
 " What is it to m©" — says my Lord 
 Townly — " whether my wife gives her 
 heart to a powdered coxcomb, or to a 
 black knave ?*' 
 
 " And yet" — said Henry — " much- 
 may be admired in the present system 
 of female education: The English la- 
 dies are more highly accomplished than 
 formerly — the arts, now, form part of 
 their studies 5 • and* ......" 
 
 " The arts" — interrupting him — 
 " yes, Sir, the art of painting — the art 
 of coquetry — the art of dissembling— 
 the art of gambling!
 
 1S8 INflDEJL 
 
 " These ^ are the favored pursuits of 
 our female philosophers. The study of 
 the toilette follows hard upon that of 
 the primmer : their French governesses 
 and French femmes de chambre, are no 
 better than so many b — ds: they pros- 
 titute the mind of the pupil, and never 
 suffer the face to appear, in public, out 
 of masquerade. 
 
 *' Ere the youthful votary enters her 
 teens, she has learnt the secret of her two 
 toilets — the toilette mysterituse^ and the 
 toilette ouverte : the one comprehends 
 an encyclopedia of artifices; the other 
 only the science of coquetry. There, 
 Miss — or my Lady Arabella — sits before 
 her glass — studies grimaces — practices 
 attitudes. She, playfully, discomposes 
 the meander in gs of a love-lock — ^the
 
 MOTHER. ISO 
 
 well-trained ringlet circles her beauti- 
 fully taper linger — she finds the badi- 
 nage infinitely nouvelle. 
 
 " With married women, it is carried 
 still farther. Fwjorites are adn^itted to 
 this little privacy fitted up with volup- 
 tuous taste. In the middle of winter, 
 art preserves the richest blooms of 
 spring,breathing odors around the room. 
 The lady carelessly lolls on a chaise 
 longue — her pug deranges her slipper, 
 and discovers a beautifully small foot, 
 or well turned ankle — She practises 
 whim for the day: and studies sallies of 
 imagination for the evening. The gifts 
 of Nature borrow new captivation from 
 this employment. The eye sparkles: 
 her countenance becomes touching: her 
 smile resistless.
 
 140 INFIDEJ- 
 
 " In the art of dissembling, they are 
 more than equal matches for Lucifer 
 himself. They change their characters 
 with their dress — suiting: both to the 
 occafBion. At one moment, they put on 
 the insensible — :then the languishing — 
 the capricious — ^but when they would 
 wholly subdue mankind, they wear the 
 charms of sensibility arrayed in all the 
 mimic attitudes of unassuming loveli- 
 ness, 
 
 " They will paint, patch, sigh, whine, 
 ogle, love, or commit any other fas bio?!- 
 able extravagance, to slip into a coach 
 and six, without even taking the pains 
 to look into the character, or merits, of 
 the coxcomb whom they entrap. 
 
 " As to gaming — when this baneful
 
 MOTHER, , 141 
 
 Mbit has once taken fiil' possession of 
 the soul—the ili-fat. 1 tntliabiast stops at 
 ncihiii^. 
 
 " The pasdon is, in itself, inordinate; 
 and no saoilices are considered too 
 great in the indulgence of its appetites. 
 The female gamester, first pledges her 
 honor; and next loses it. She does 
 more- — she turns common cheat, and 
 leagues with cotemporary profligates to 
 pigeon the unwary adventurer of his 
 fortune. 
 
 " You shudder, m^y young friend; 
 but I could point out instances, in the 
 first circles of our proudest Nobles, to 
 confirm my assertion. 
 
 *' And now, Sir, tell me'* — turning
 
 142 INFIDEL 
 
 to Henry; and appearing to search his 
 inmost mind, with the bold inquiry of 
 his penetrating glance — 
 
 " Are you prepared to resist this 
 combination of allurement and profli- 
 gacy ?• — ^Have you understanding to fa- 
 thom the depths of dissimulation? — 
 fortitude to resist the advances of beau- 
 ty ? — and discretion to guard your own 
 honor? 
 
 *' You are beset — ^farewell — ^remem- 
 ber me." 
 
 With these words, he abruptly re- 
 traced his steps; leaving our hero so 
 overcome by surprise, he knew not whe- 
 ther he should follow or not.
 
 MOTHER. 143 
 
 " But it matters little" — he added, 
 after a pause — " We shall meet again, 
 and I will fathom this extraordinary- 
 being.'* 
 
 At one moment, Henry was disposed 
 to think him an impostor ; but the idea 
 was transitory. He evidently wished to 
 befriend him, however singular his man- 
 ner. Then his declamation, notwith- 
 standing its virulence, was, certainly, 
 the effect of worldly observation. 
 
 In this way — musing — and perplexing 
 his brain with indefinable doubts and 
 conjectures — Henry, once more, found 
 himself on the Steyne; and was pre- 
 sently joined by Sir George, and others 
 of his friends, returned from the Cock- 
 pit.
 
 144' iN FIDEL 
 
 *' Quiz my nobility, but that's ele* 
 gantly singular" — exclaimed a Lordling, 
 pointing to . a gentleman just alighting 
 at the hand-railing near them — 
 
 This gentleman was an arbiter elegan- 
 tiarum in the fashionable world. His 
 appearance, on the present occasion, as 
 w-^eil as his understanding, justified this 
 preference. 
 
 His dress was a fawn-colored frock^ 
 with a black silk waistcoat, and white 
 corded smallclothes ; pink silk stock- 
 ings, and yellow shoes 5 a .brown hat 
 lined with green. 
 
 " How d'ye like my new purchase, 
 my lads^ of wax — there's shape— make 
 —and figure— Got by Highflyer, .out
 
 MOTHER. 145 
 
 of- -out of — demme, Jack" — slapping 
 his next neighbour on the shoulder — 
 ^' what mare is my colt out of?" 
 
 *^ A cart mare''- — was the laconic 
 reply. 
 
 « Hah! hah! hah !"— laughed the 
 little sprig of nobility — " Petrify me, 
 but the retort was excellent-^ Attic — vl> 
 lify my veracity- truly xlttic." 
 
 . This is the world we live in: where 
 senators, gravely, sit in council on the 
 pedigree of a race-horsey or scientiiic- 
 ally decide on the merits of a boxinor 
 match: Yet these guardians of the pub- 
 lic safety will doze, or affect inatten- 
 tion, during the discussion of a political 
 question ; comprehending, perhaps, the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 INFIDEL 
 
 future^ welfare and honor of the na- 
 tion! 
 
 The last witticism operated like a 
 signal for attack: every tongue, in the 
 circle, was called into action. Henry- 
 took advantage of the confusion to walk 
 away with Sir George from this modern 
 Babel ; when the Baronet, among other 
 anecdotes, related that of the Brighton 
 tailor. 
 
 *^ And a most profitable job, Snip 
 made of it" — continued Sir George — 
 " Nothing would do with the female 
 world but the Brighton tdilor. All the 
 women declared they never had been so 
 well fitted in their lives — Mr. Snip's ha- 
 bits were so delightful!
 
 MOTHER. 14T 
 
 " Now, whether the rage for his ha- 
 bits, or the consequent rage for riding 
 on horseback, braced the female system, 
 I do not pretend to say: but certain it 
 is — from whatever cause — Brighton was 
 remarkably proHfic that summer." 
 
 The month of September was nearly 
 at hand, and Henry engaged in a shoot- 
 ing party. It was a sport at which he 
 was tolerably expert. An honest Hiber- 
 nian in company, who, from a Volun- 
 teer, had risen, by his merit, to a Ma- 
 jority in a dragoon regiment — thus 
 complimented him on his skill: 
 
 *' By Jasus, my dear fellow, although 
 I love fighting as well as ever I loved 
 mother's milk, I would rather go home 
 with you, than go out with you.*' 
 
 H 2
 
 148 INFIDKL 
 
 " Your countrymen, Major'^ — re- 
 plied Henry — " are as much renowned 
 for bravery as hospitality. You give 
 laurels to your country, and pleasure to 
 your friends.'* 
 
 The Major had a soul to feel for the 
 honor of dear Ireland; but his reply was 
 confined to a hearty shake by the hand, 
 and an expressive glance that uttered 
 volumes. To bravery and hospitality, 
 Henry might have added, wit and hu- 
 mor, as highly characteristic of all classes 
 in that country. 
 
 When Lord Towns — d was Lord 
 
 Lieutenant, some years ago, he heard so 
 
 frequently of the humor of a shoe-black, 
 
 who took his seat on the BHnd Quay, 
 
 ikn, that he determined to judge.
 
 ^^aTHER. 149 
 
 Eim, in person. Accordingly he walked 
 out, early one morning, incog, and put 
 up his shoe to be cleaned. The cele- 
 brated wit, however, silently performed 
 his oiEce; when his Lordship, much dis- 
 appointed, presented him with a guinea, 
 desiring to have change. 
 
 " Is it change your Konor wants?" — 
 replied Pat — " Then, by my soul, your 
 Honor might as well ask a Highlander 
 for a knee-buckle, as me for change." 
 
 Dean Swift — then unacquainted with 
 Dr. Arbuthnot — having stepped into 
 a coffee-room, one morning, seated him- 
 self in a box where a gentleman was 
 busied writing. The Dean called for 
 coffee; and took up a paper — Meanwhile, 
 his opposite neighboui' had written to 
 H 3
 
 150 INFIDEL 
 
 the bottom of his page; and being anxi- 
 ous to pursue the train of his ideas — ^he, 
 hastily, inquired of the Dean, if he could 
 oblige him with a little sand. 
 
 " No faith"— replied Swift—" but I 
 have the gravel, most d — nably; and 
 
 will oblige you by on your letter 
 
 with all my heact.'* 
 
 From this repartee, a friendship com- 
 menced, which only ended with their 
 lives. 
 
 A day was appointed for Mrs. Mel- 
 moth's departure ; and it was proposed 
 to travel round the Coast. 
 
 Meanwhile — our hero had the mortifi- 
 cation to seek the cynic at his accus-
 
 MOTHER. 151 
 
 tomed haunt, in vain; till, perplexed 
 with the recollection of the scene that 
 had passed between them, and im- 
 pelled by a curiosity he could no longer 
 resist, he sought him at his lodging. 
 
 Here aH inquiries were fruitless; ex- 
 cept to ascertain, that the old gentleman 
 left Brighton on the evening of the day 
 they had conversed together: but as to 
 who he was — where he came from — 
 whither he was gone — all was a blank! 
 
 No circumstance had lately occurred 
 to rouse the native energies of Henry's 
 impatient temper, so decidedly, as the 
 present. 
 
 In v/hat way was he to construe the 
 admonition he had received — for admo- 
 H 4
 
 152 INFIDEL 
 
 nition it assuredly was intended to con- 
 vey, and that of tlie most alarming na- 
 ture ? 
 
 He entered into no expenses his for- 
 tune was unequal to support — his follies 
 were in compliance with the customs of 
 haut ton — his connection with Caroline, 
 a mere appendage, unfettered by any 
 attachment that might blind him^to his 
 own interest, or lay him open to the 
 wily artifices of a woman enlisted in that 
 corgs, whose charter it is, to fleece their 
 benefactors, and squander their ilj-gotten 
 treasure on a pampered favorite — What, 
 then, could it mean ? 
 
 As Henry vehemently proposed the 
 inquiry to himself, a sort of new light 
 burst, at once, upon his faculties .......
 
 MOTHER. 153 
 
 " Good Heaven!" — he exclaimed — 
 '* does the benevolent stranger mean 
 Madame de St. Amand?" 
 
 A burning flush crimsoned his cheek 
 at this unexpected discover)', 
 
 This lady— the bosom friend of Mrs* - 
 Hamlyn, as she describes her to the Lfar- 
 chioness — was a native of France, pos- 
 sessing all those tinsel accgmplishments 
 which catch the eye; but never, really^ 
 reach the heart, . 
 
 Her father was a nouveau riche, raised 
 almost from mendicity, by the Revolu- 
 tion, to affluence. In the midst of gran> 
 deur he still retained the oridnal mean- 
 
 o 
 
 nessofhis ideas, and was indebted to 
 H 5-
 
 154 INFIDEL 
 
 his several tradespeople for the tasteful 
 embellishments of his luxurious hotel. 
 
 At this sudden elevation, the subject 
 of our little memoir was just entering her 
 fifteenth year — d'une belle taille — des 
 yeux vifs — ^la mine charmante — et d'une 
 jeunesse la plus brillante. 
 
 Her father, without morals himself, 
 scarcely cule,lvated them in his daughter. 
 His ostentatious entertainments — calcu- 
 lated, alone, to gratify his vanity — ^were 
 given to men of dissolute character, who 
 eagerly flocked around the lovely Julia 
 to assure her of their adoration. 
 
 The voice of love stole, insidiously, 
 Imo her little heart — it fluttered again.
 
 MOTHER* 155 
 
 and again. She consulted Rousseau's 
 Heloise — his hypothesis was delightful; 
 but Julia was for experimental philoso- 
 phy: the opportunity soon offered — and 
 she set down Plato for a fool. 
 
 Her curiosity, once gratified, she re- 
 duced the indulgence to a system. Her 
 temperament offered no material objec- 
 tion to her plan: she changed her lovers, 
 as she changed her dress : she yielded to 
 sentiment, but was free from jealousy— 
 her gallantry was habitual, but mild: 
 no extravagant rapture in its progress: 
 no fretful inquietudes to give publicity 
 to her repeated infidelities. Her circle 
 of lovers crowded round her as friends: 
 every body admired the douceur of her 
 manners. — In short, she lived in the bo- 
 som of voluptuous dissipation, without 
 H 6
 
 156 INFIDEL 
 
 injuring her character; and was well 
 received in the best company. 
 
 it would not, however, have been 
 possible thus to guard her fair fame from 
 slander, without the protection of an 
 husband^s name. The father of Julia, 
 therefore, sought a suitable match for 
 his daughter, in the person of Mr. de 
 St. Amand ; a descendant from among 
 the ancient Barons of Normandy. Too 
 proud to folio v/ any profession, the poor 
 gentleman starved in an out-house of 
 his mouldering chateau, when the rich 
 banker proposed an alliance. 
 
 Ceremonials were easily adjusted; 
 and the bride arose from her contami- 
 nated couch to pledge her vows at the 
 altar: and^ thus sanctioned, returned
 
 MOTHER. 157 
 
 home to renew her licentious plea- 
 sures. 
 
 Monsieur retired, a ses terres, upon a 
 pension; was seldom permitted to come 
 to Paris; and, when he did, he was to 
 have neither eyes nor ears- — to occupy 
 a petite appartement, and know no more 
 of his wife than, that she did him the 
 honor to bear his name — to give him 
 children whom he never savr — -and to 
 make him contemptible. 
 
 We shall contrast this story with an- 
 other anecdote of a decayed gentleman, 
 from the same province, who came to 
 Paris on account of an old family law- 
 suit. 
 
 Presenting himself in the gardens of
 
 158 INFIDEL 
 
 the Thuilleries ; several petits maltres 
 made a stop to admire the cut of his 
 coat; which, in truth, had been the gala 
 dress of his grandfather. At length, one 
 of them, exclaimed with a sneer, 
 
 " These old Normans are as famous 
 for the length of their coats, as for the 
 length of their law-suits/' 
 
 The Baron instantly insisted on the 
 gentleman's retiring: they did so — and, 
 at the first lunge, the Baron ran his an- 
 tagonist through the body. Upon 
 which, he returned to the circle they 
 had just left; and, politely bowing to 
 the company, requested to know, if any 
 other gentleman would have the good- 
 ness to alter the cut of his coat.
 
 MOTHER, 159 
 
 Poverty may be called the touchstone 
 of a man's honor: those who have weak 
 minds sink into degeneracy— those who 
 are more powerfully fortified by nature^ 
 rise into superior dignity. 
 
 The preceding historiette was not, 
 however, known to Henry. He ad- 
 mired Madame de St. Amand, as a fine 
 woman — was pleased with the graceful 
 ease of her manners; and remarked, 
 that even the national frivolity of her 
 sex was mellowed into fascinating vi- 
 vacity. 
 
 Latterly, indeed, the lady had been 
 somewhat pointed in her attentions to 
 our hero; but he was not so much the 
 coxcomb as to suppose every woman, in 
 love with him, who was agreeably po-
 
 160 INFIDEL 
 
 lite ; and would never, most probaMy, 
 have bestowed a thought on the subject^ 
 but for the alarm given him by the 
 friendly Gynic* 
 
 Henry sought' the solitude of his 
 chamber, and devoted an hour to rumi- 
 nste on this oppressive subject, . 
 
 " lliat women"^ — -said he mentally — 
 " should thus pervert the gifts of Hea* 
 ven, and make hyaenas of themselves* 
 Kbw faithful is, I fear,the picture offered 
 to me of prevalent depravities ; and 
 how much have parents to answer for, 
 who rear up a tender ciispring, equally 
 susceptible of good and bad impressions^, 
 to their own eternal damnation! 
 
 " Who can doubt that the existing
 
 IviOTHER. 161 
 
 profligacy of female manners is the im- 
 mediate resuk of fashionable education E 
 When the mind imbibes virtuous opi- 
 nions, they ornament the whole person. 
 Internal beauty^ contributes to the per- 
 fection of external graces. 
 
 *' Instead of the elegant English Clas^ 
 sics, destructive Novels lay the original 
 foundation of opinions ;. which, after- 
 wards, cling to them through life. Sha 
 who has no taste for Pope, Addison, or 
 Milton, fills up her vacant hours with 
 Faublas, or the Monk ; and while the 
 sensible and virtuous mother makes her 
 own roof the safeguard of virgin inno- 
 cence, the dissipated parent neglects — 
 even if she does not contaminate — those 
 moral duties, toward her child, pre- 
 scribed to her by duty."
 
 162 INFIDEL 
 
 Henry, unconsciously, was inspired, 
 during this soliloquy, with the purest 
 sentiments of exalted love — The mild, 
 unobtrusive virtues of the amiable Lady 
 Harriet rose up in judgment against all 
 else he saw and heard — awakening, to 
 melancholy pleasure, the sensibilities of 
 his heart! 
 
 Love is the emperor of the Imagina- 
 tion — ^his throne is erected in the hall of 
 Fancy — whose peculiar attribute it is, to 
 color objects, not in obedience to their 
 absolute forms, but with the magic 
 touches of self-delusion: Thus influenced, 
 the object of our affections assumes a 
 more than mortal beauty. 
 
 Love engenders the most perfect de- 
 light that can affect the senses — Sensibi-
 
 MOTHER. 165 
 
 lity! — that precious source of every vir- 
 tue, when amiably directed: — it corrects 
 our follies — weakens our pride — softens 
 our nature. It creates a perpetual desire 
 to confer mutual pleasure, free from ob- 
 ligation; it is chaste as it is ardent. 
 
 There are, it is true, certain boasting 
 sentimentalists, who gloss with false and 
 subtile reasoning the emotions of the 
 soul, and prate about the beauties of the 
 mind; but theirs is the brilliancy of a 
 meteor — ^all false glare. 
 
 Soon after the party arrived at Rams- 
 gate, they were joined by Colonel Mel- 
 moth; and Henry saw, with no small 
 degree of anxiety, that Madame de St. 
 Amand had pursued them thither. At 
 least so it appeared to him ; and he pro-
 
 posed to the Coionel to make the toui^ 
 of Margate for a day or two. 
 
 " Ail my heart" — replied he — " d — d- 
 good sport among the old m.usty cits 
 from Dowgate Hili — Tooley Street — 
 and Blackwall — Like to hoax them — 
 wives, second-hand fine ladies — daugh- 
 ters, like flights of daws in peacocks' 
 feathers." 
 
 From the pier of Ram.sgate — gaily 
 decked with beauties from the Steyne— - 
 Henry was taken by his cousin, very 
 early in the morning, to visit the humors 
 of the pier of Margate. 
 
 Flere crowds of ;;fc;2^r^/ fashion mingle, 
 in a mob, to hail the arrival of an aunt, 
 a cousin, or a friend, when the approach-
 
 MOTHER. 165 
 
 ing lioy displays its well filled decks : 
 and here the aforesaid hoy disgorges, 
 from its capacious maw, a litter of half 
 starved nondescripts. And it is not a 
 little singular to see these Jonas's of the 
 morning, matamorphosed on the fort, 
 at evening, into beings " lightly tripping 
 on the fantastic toe,*' in all the _fi/iery 
 of Cranbourn Alley. 
 
 On their retiring to Mr. Garner^s 
 library, this self-important little Roscius 
 of the town approached the strangers, 
 to give them the nev/s of the day. 
 
 ^' A masquerade at the theatre— 'i 
 public breakfast at Dandelion — Mr. 
 Le Bas' benefit at the rooms — Mrs. Jor- 
 dan expected for three nights — and 
 lastly, that all the world would be at
 
 166 INFIDEL 
 
 church on the morrow — Sunday — as a 
 certain beautiful young duchess, and one 
 of her sisters, had declared their inten- 
 tion to collect, at the church door, for 
 the benefit of the Bathing Infirmary. 
 
 Henry had some difficulty to prevail 
 with the Colonel to accompany him to 
 church — the soldier declaring, he should 
 not know where to find the service — 
 but in consideration of the novelty of 
 the thing, he consented to look foolish — 
 as he said — for, once^ in his life time. 
 
 When they arrived at the churclu 
 however, they found it impossible to 
 gain admission — the aisle — the entry — 
 every nook — was filled. 
 
 ^^ They order this matter bettor In
 
 MOTHER. 167 
 
 France** — said Yorick, in reply to ob- 
 servations on a national custom. — I 
 borrow his sentiment, as he did the 
 drummer's letter to the corporal's wife, 
 — at the exigency of the moment. 
 
 They order this matter better in. 
 France, then, I fervently repeat ; and 
 this the portrait of their custom. 
 
 THE QUETEUSE 
 
 IS always in the prime of youth, ahd 
 bloom of beauty : her dress is simply 
 elegant; and a bouquet shades her, 
 otherwise exposed, bosom, without de- 
 stroying the illusion of fancy. The 
 lady is attended by a cavalier, and bears 
 a large silken purse. In the middle of
 
 168 mpiDS'L 
 
 the service, she advances up the aisle, 
 soliciting, vv^ith bev^itching condescen- 
 sion, the mite of every individual. 
 Should any one hesitate — she pauses-— 
 repeats her request in a softened voice, 
 accompanied by a gracious smile. The 
 inagic eloquence of white teeth— a 
 Piaked arm moulded by the loves — and 
 supplicating eyes — ^remove all difficulty. 
 
 Who could resist the appeal ? — By 
 heaven 'tis not in mortal man to be a 
 stoic on su^h occasions ! 
 
 The miser's hand, mechanically, finds 
 his purse — he makes his offering — the 
 Oucieuse rewards him with a graceful 
 curtesy ; and presenting herself to the 
 right and left pursues her pious office.
 
 Thii is an appeal from beauty, to th^ 
 ■heart, which all find irresistible. 
 
 Perhaps some little vanity attaches to 
 the act itself ; as there is much rivalry 
 among these beautiful Oueteuse : those, 
 most valuing themselves, who have pro- 
 cured the largest contributions^-the 
 end, Jiowever, is served ; and if it be a 
 "weakness^ it is certainly an amiable weak- 
 ness, 
 
 lieniy, with difficulty, approached 
 the church door, and placed a bank-note 
 on the plate. 
 
 Were I to declare the amount, the 
 man of the v%'orld misiht call it ostenta- 
 lion. I, therefore, leave tlie decision to 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 I TO IKFIDEL 
 
 tke man of benevolence— simply stating, 
 that every action of our hero marked 
 the munificence of his soul. 
 
 Margate is, almost exclusively, the re- 
 treat of cockneys, from the confinement 
 of their smokey homes. In days of 
 yore, a city apprentice wore his worsted 
 stockings; attended church; and scarce- 
 ly -knew his way beyond the stones-end. 
 — It is reported, that a young cub, so 
 habituated, was treated with a walk to a 
 short distance from town, by his father, 
 where they passed the night. 
 
 Early next morning, the young cit 
 was awakened by the crow'mg of the 
 cocks, and jumping up in a violent 
 hurry, he exclaimed — " Father — father 
 --' ilo you hear the cocks ?ieigb^*'
 
 In these days of refinement, boots and 
 leathers supersede the worsteds behind 
 the counter — arid a trip, on the water^ 
 with a gay miUiner's girl to Richmond, 
 quahiies these second-hand bucks to 
 mimick the monkey that had seen the 
 '^vorld. 
 
 But the frequenters of Margate are 
 made of more substantial stuff. Mrs. 
 Putty hears that Mrs. Dip is going to 
 the sea side— Mrs. Dip has been told 
 that Mrs. Cheshire is already gone ; and 
 the spirit of emulation sets every female 
 tongue of the family inniotion. 
 
 " Why can't I do like other people? 
 — I am sure we owes nobody nothing, 
 thoujyh some folks holds tlieir heads 
 
 o 
 
 higher than some folks.- — Then what is 
 12
 
 172 INFIDEL 
 
 the use of giving one's girls such genteel 
 iddications, if we dont give them no 
 opportunity to shew their talons. — Han't 
 they learnt a whole quarter at Mr. 
 Allen*s evening school for grown ladies 
 and gentlemen ; and who goes better 
 dressed to meeting, I wonder, than we 
 does—or who looks more respectabler ?'* 
 
 To avoid this constant din, the honest 
 shopkeeper relents — they embark on 
 board the hoy, with band box upon 
 band box, not forgetting a ham.per well 
 stored with eatables. If the cit is firm 
 — he allows a certain sum for the ex- 
 cursion, and no more, — and if he is 
 wise — he encourages them to spend it 
 as fast as possible, that they may return 
 to the shop as little prejudiced, as may
 
 MOTHER, 17-^ 
 
 be, by the folly and frivolity of a custom 
 " more honored in the breach than tlie 
 observance." 
 
 The Colonel led our hero to Saver's 
 bathing rooms, at the fashionable hour 
 —Miss Wilhelmina Suett, from Clare 
 Market, had just been prevailed upon by 
 her lovier^ Captain Puliett of the zuollun- 
 teers^ to favor the company wich an 
 Harriette : and Miss Wilhelmina was 
 bujffetting the piano with all \he forte of 
 an enthusiast, accompanied by the Italian 
 graces of Caroline in the Prize, just as 
 Gur party entered. 
 
 Miss Pattypan was dying with envy 
 
 at this public display of a rival's purdi- 
 
 gious accomplishments ; and Colonel 
 
 Jimiper, of the Saint Giles's Corps, was 
 
 I 3
 
 7 74 INFIDEL 
 
 presenting her with thieves vinegar;; 
 while IMiss Theodosia Allspice was- 
 endeavoring to evince her contempt, by 
 certain disdainful tossings of her head^. 
 and repeated bursts of vacant laughter. 
 
 " May I never smell powder/' ex- 
 claimed the Captain — " but Miss Vilhell- 
 niinny is han hangel — nothing like hit 
 at the Hopera — crucify me/' 
 
 " Believe not," retorted the Colonel — 
 *'^ monstrous like their hown marrybones: 
 and cleavers — monstrous like, indeed ! 
 —Smells hof the shop — he ! he 1 he !" - 
 
 <« What can that there feller mean" — 
 rejoined the Captain, swelling like one^ 
 of his turkey cocks, and advancing witK 
 a menacing air — '^ Fillet you know wha
 
 MX3THER. 17^ 
 
 I' ham, sir I — Vm a gemman — hand han 
 hoflicer — hand vears ha sword, sir ; — - 
 hand hall that." 
 
 What reply Colonel Juniper — who* 
 was a man of spirit-^would have made, 
 we are unable to ascertain, as a violent 
 fracas, at that moment, threw the whole 
 room into a confusion, 
 
 Mrs. Suett was a little rosy faced 
 woman, about four feet and an half high ; 
 dutch built; but erect as a h albert; her 
 embonpoint tapered to a six inch petti- 
 coat below — " small by degrees, and 
 beautifully less." She swept the carpet, 
 in triumph, with a train resembling that 
 of the great Queen Dolalolla ; Vv hen — 
 oh ! dire mishap — but such was the will 
 of fate ! 
 
 I 4
 
 1 76 iKFIDS-L 
 
 An immense Newfoundland dogv 
 gripping from the se?.^ entered the room, 
 and joined the elegant throng. The 
 ladies shrieked j and Mrs. Suett, trem- 
 bling for her Japan muslin petticoat, and 
 inspired beyond a woman's fears, bold- 
 ly made a desperate kick at the rough 
 intruder. 
 
 The effort v;as powerful; but the 
 Japan was weak : an envious rent aspired 
 above her knee, discovering the mottled 
 beauties of a greasy flannel dickey. 
 
 Mrs. Suett, at this disaster, uttered a 
 piteous oh ! — ^^and fell prostrate on the 
 carpet. 
 
 Tlus scene of confusion v/as still en-
 
 MOTHER. 177 
 
 creased by \dolent shriekings from the 
 other end of the room. 
 
 Master Jack)' Udder — all nerve — faint- 
 ed at the uproar : his two broad faced 
 sisters held his pretty little unclenched 
 hands ; vociferating, loudly, — '• that 
 nothinc: but burnt feathers would restore. 
 
 o 
 
 heir dear brother." 
 
 The feathers be2:an to smoke — =the 
 Amazon sisters pressed eagerly around 
 their jessaniy brother — the heir apparent 
 of Milch-hall ! Their Gipsey hats were • 
 removed to admit theu' more conve- 
 nient approach, and their three red 
 H£ADs grouped most terrifically. 
 
 Mrs. Suett, now opening her azure 
 eyes, cast a wild look around-^the 
 J 5
 
 378 INFIDEL 
 
 smell from the feathers, with the ap- 
 pearance of the smoke and iiery heads, 
 conveyed to her scarcely awakened mind 
 a certainty that the room was in flames. 
 
 Fire ! — fire ! — fire ! — roared lustily 
 the affrighted dame ; and taking to her 
 Keels — unmindful of her petticoat, whose 
 ext'jnsion, happily, accelerated her speed. 
 — she ran into the High Street. 
 
 Colonel Melmoth fv^llowed, giving^ 
 her the view halloo — ^the boys pursued 
 — and the day being fine, and the scent 
 strong upon the wind, the delighted 
 raggamuffins fairly hunted Mrs. Suett 
 into cover , where she gladly squatted ; 
 her form distilling sweets at every pore ; 
 as " the Arabian trees their aromatic 
 gums.'*
 
 MOTHER. 179 
 
 We have already stated, that Madam 
 de St. Amand was a proficient in the 
 art of pleasing : she eminently possessed 
 tiie happy talent of making others obey 
 the very letter of her ivill^ by appearing 
 to be solely guided by their wishes — that 
 fascinating power, by which superior 
 minds govern those inferior. 
 
 She could assume an enchantment of 
 countenance to conciliate esteem, confi- 
 dence, and affection. It was not the 
 gross incence of flattery — not the' servi- 
 lity of supplication — ^but an open, can- 
 did, ingenuous, semblance of affection, 
 extending to minutest objects, that en- 
 gendered pleasurable emotions ; made 
 others /f^/ she loved them ; and made 
 them eagerly return her love, 
 16
 
 1 80- INFIDEL 
 
 When such a woman, systeniaticaily, 
 attacks the heart of unsuspecting youth, 
 what chance has he to escape her toil ? 
 Henry was for warned — guarded — yet 
 fell. 
 
 With beauty to command — with as- 
 sumed modesty to conquer — she gave 
 new embellishments to luxury : gaie — 
 folatre — distinguished by " mille graces 
 picqu antes" — her society became, at 
 length, essential to Henry ; who eager- 
 ly obeyed her invitations — not as a 
 gar^on de bonne fortune ; but merely 
 i^ because he took pleasure in her com- 
 pany. 
 
 Towards the close of October the 
 party returned to town : Mrs. Hainlyn's
 
 MOTHER. 18-1 
 
 heart fluttered with expectation. The 
 long vacation had retarded her divorce; 
 but her proctors assured her the ap- 
 proaching term would give her liber ty* 
 Her little page, as usual, followed on 
 her steps ? but mamma, sa oblig'mgly^ 
 made it appear to the world, that he 
 vras a favorite of hers — a boy she was 
 forming to the offices of polished society 
 — that scandal had not, as yet, made 
 busy with the lovers. 
 
 The Marquis and Marchioness were 
 gone to Bath, whither the faculty liad 
 despatched them. Henry sighed — h^ 
 had taught himself to expect he should 
 see Lady Harriet at his return, and the 
 disappointment was excessive. He 
 w^ould not allow himself ta suppose he 
 loved her J much less to attempt a
 
 IS^ INFIDEL 
 
 clandestine interview. His passion waa 
 noble : devoid of any selfish wish : he 
 loved Lady Harriet for herself 1 
 
 Meanwhile, he called frequently, in 
 his rides, on Madame de St. Amand j 
 who resided, at a little recess^ on the 
 King's Road — a bijou — where every 
 voluptuous profusion was concentrated. 
 
 Every man may be a rake ; but a man 
 of pleasure is a superior being. He is 
 gallant ; not over scrupulous y but re- 
 fines his enjoyments by taste — by cer- 
 tain manners, that soften and polish 
 even the most sensual delirium : decency 
 accompanies his pursuits ; and he enjoys 
 the fulfilment of his wishes with dig- 
 nity.
 
 MOTHER'. lS3- 
 
 Such were- Henry's tenets ; and the 
 entertainment offered to him, by this 
 accomplished syren, was so exactly made 
 up by his own receipt, that he unguard- 
 edly sat down, a willing guest, at her 
 luxurious banquet. 
 
 We cannot better detail this events 
 than by presenting our reader with a 
 letter, written on the occasion, by the 
 lady to Iier former gallant.. 
 
 ** My dear Lord, 
 '^ Enjoyment is the reward of those, 
 only, who understand its value — all else 
 is sensual pleasure, unworthy the par- 
 ticipation of noble souls. Such you 
 know to be my creed : and, indeed, it 
 is the creed of my sex, at large, if they 
 had but honesty enough to confess iu
 
 I S4 INFIDEL 
 
 The most rigid moralist freely ackriGiV' 
 ledges the feelings of nature ; although 
 she permits the laws of custom to restrict 
 their vivacity. I, you know, am not 
 quite so conscientious ; and if it be a 
 crime to taste of happiness — condemn me 
 -^for I have been supremely happy.. 
 
 " Attend ! 
 
 " Last evening- — v.'hether hy fatality^ 
 or otherwise, God only knows — my 
 lovely Indian paid m.e an unexpected- 
 visit. I was alone — and it has been 
 said by some great writer — no matter 
 who — ^ that a woman's thoughts. are 
 most dangerous on such occasions.* 
 
 " Henry, certainly, felt this truth : 
 his fine intelligent features beamed with
 
 MOTHER. 1S5 
 
 moi*e than mortal love : he must have 
 read his conquest in my eyes ; and, 
 inspired by hope — wit the most poig- 
 nant — gaiety the most playful — embel- 
 lished our tete-a-tete. I was, as it 
 were, magnetised : the electric fluid 
 mingled with my veins ; and our con- 
 versation became deHcious., 
 
 " An opposite mirror, accidentally, 
 reflected my person. — x\h, my dear Lord, 
 NEVER, in our happiest moments, did 
 you behold me half so handsome. I 
 felt the conviction, powerfully, even if 
 Henry had not assured me of it, by his 
 passionate expressions and animated 
 gesture. 
 
 " I soon decided— and merely feigned
 
 186 INFIDEL 
 
 a coldness to his wishes to maketli^' 
 frenzied moment more ecstatic. 
 
 "But I could not long conceal the 
 strong emotions of my inmost soul. 
 The habit of feigning, or. the practice of 
 resistance, would be, eqixally, a novelty 
 with me. My features — my silence — 
 my embarrassment — all, betrayed me. 
 
 " I arose — my limbs, instinctively, led 
 towards the little cabinet of love, so oft 
 the witness of our m^u-tual endearments. 
 
 " In this sweet asylum — the chosen 
 retreat of every luxury ; where,, the 
 bright flame of love was never yetpro- 
 phaned by languid joys or unrequited 
 passion — I found my head grow giddy
 
 iM-OTHER. 187 
 
 with contending emotions. Happily, 
 Henry had, unperceived, pursued me 
 thither ; and caught me in his arms. 
 
 " The softened pressure of his warm 
 embrace completed the delirium : he 
 pressed, with a glowing hand, my palpi- 
 tating heart — reflection vanished — a 
 sweet charm surrounded us — our limbs 
 trembled — our strength failed — We fell, 
 in each other's grasp, at the feet of my 
 Medicean statue ! 
 
 " Adieu,my dear Lord, and remember 
 that you love me always — call, as usual, 
 to see me ; but respect my system — f 
 rspeat it — and no more scolding. 
 
 « Julie.'*-
 
 VSS INFIDEL 
 
 My Lord was too well experienced in 
 the school of gallantry to play the jealous 
 simpleton. He knew that there were 
 three degrees of passion, each of which, 
 must have its natural course. 
 
 The ardent, which sedulously avoids 
 even the shadow of an infidelity. 
 
 The lukewarm, which seizes the op- 
 portunity of wandering. 
 
 The exhausted, which watches every 
 woman's critical minute. 
 
 He, therefore, contented himself with 
 returning a billet doux, to this effect —
 
 MOTHER. 189 
 
 False though she be to me and lore. 
 
 I'll ne'er pursue rerengc : 
 For still the charmer I approve. 
 
 Tho' I deplore the change. 
 
 In hours of bliss we oft hare roeU 
 
 They conid not always last ; 
 But tho' the present I regret, 
 
 I'm grateful for the pa>i. 
 
 His Lordship, then, to avoid the con- 
 onratulations of his friends on his dis- 
 
 o 
 
 missal — put the letter in his pocket, 
 and driving to Boodle's, exposed it to 
 the circle of his friends. 
 
 Henry, now, had broken through the 
 preniices of gallantry ; and was qualified 
 — according to the opinion of Mrs. 
 Hamlyn — to tread the rosy path of all
 
 190 IK FIDEL 
 
 seductive pleasure, hand in hand, with 
 yielding beauty. 
 
 Meanwhile, a pressing invitation from 
 the Marquis determined Henry on a 
 trip to Bath. His Lordship spoke of his 
 health, as being considerably re-esta- 
 blished ; and hoped to be able to attend 
 the birth-day, when the Ladies Lucy and 
 Harriet were to be presented. 
 
 Behold our hero, now, entered on a 
 new scene of gaiety and fashion. 
 
 This point of elegant attraction always 
 fills at tliis season of the year: its 
 vicinity to Wales, and local position, 
 which excludes the use of equipages, 
 draws many respectable famihes from 
 Ireland, and other parts of the United
 
 Kingdom, to .winter, elegantly, at much 
 less expense than in London. Variety- 
 is, thereby, given to the beauty of each 
 female circle ; and the entertainments are 
 so various, and so well regulated, the 
 senses are perpetually feasting, without 
 being glutted. 
 
 Every body knows that the town of 
 Bath is wholly indebted to the exertions 
 of Beau Nash, for the consequence it 
 now enjoys. 
 
 The place w^s, originally, a resort 
 for cripples and diseased persons ; and 
 chance, which first discovered its mineral 
 baths, and their leading virtues, has 
 been, by tra.dition, thus handed down 
 .to posterity.
 
 192 I"NFIDEL 
 
 While Bladud, the only son of Lord 
 Hudibras, the eighth king of the Britons 
 from Bruto, was a young man ; he, by 
 some accident, became sorely afflicted 
 with a leprosy ; and lest the infection 
 should spread among the nobiUty and 
 gentry who frequented his father's 
 levees, the young prince, was, at their 
 request, banished the court. 
 
 i 
 
 On his departure^the queen hismother 
 presented him with a ring to identify 
 his person, hereafter, when it might 
 please God to restore him to health. 
 
 The young prince, thus exiled, en- 
 countered a shepherd as he travelled 
 over the downs, feeding his flocks- 
 With this poor man he exchanged gar-
 
 MOTHER. 193 
 
 ments ; and taking leave, he sought an 
 employment corresponding with his 
 humbled appearance. 
 
 Fortune favored the royal adventurer, 
 who soon after obtained from a swine- 
 herd, then living where Cainsham now 
 stands, the care of a drove of pigs; and 
 the better to conceal, from his master,the 
 misfortune under which he laboured, he 
 requested permission to drive his pigs 
 to the opposite side of the Avon, where 
 he could fatten them on acorns that 
 abounded on the neighbouring hills. 
 
 In the morning, he crossed the Avon 
 at a narrovv stream, which he called 
 Swineford — and now, the Sun, breaking 
 through the clouds with superior lustre, 
 beamed on the royal herdsman. 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 1 94f INFIDEL 
 
 Impressed with this awful sight, the 
 Prince knelt before the glorious lumi- 
 nary; and prayed, fervently, that the 
 wrath of Heaven, against him, might be 
 averted. 
 
 Suddenly, the whole drove of pigs — 
 as if seized with a frenzy — ran, madly, 
 up the valley; pursuing their course by 
 the river's banks, until they reached the 
 spot of ground where the hot springs of 
 Bath still boil over. 
 
 The scum emitted by the waters, na- 
 turally flowing among the leaves, and 
 weeds, scattered in its neighbourhood, 
 a sort of bog surrounded the spring. 
 
 The pigs, immediately immerged 
 themselves into the yielding morass —
 
 MOTHER. igS 
 
 and were so delighted with the warm 
 oozy bed they wallowed in, that Bladud 
 was unable to withdraw them from the 
 spot. 
 
 At length, hunger compelled them to 
 follow their herdsman to a more conve- 
 nient situation, where he fed them; and 
 having made certain arrangements for 
 their safety at night, and washed them, 
 he hoped to remove the infection from 
 the whole herd. 
 
 A few days after, Bladud lost one of 
 his best sows ; and his most diligent re- 
 searches were fruitless, for neai' a. week; 
 when, to his great amazement, he disco- 
 vered the strayed anim.al immersed in 
 the mire around the waters, and per- 
 fectly free from leprosy. 
 k2
 
 J9G INFIDEL 
 
 Convinced of the pov/erful efficacy of 
 the waters, the Prince immediately strip- 
 ped, rolling himself in the mire, just as 
 the sow had done; and, afterward, ad- 
 ministering the same remedy to his 
 v/hole charge, their white scales, gradu- 
 ally, dropped off; and they, as well as 
 himself, experienced a perfect cure. 
 
 Bladud, now returned with his herd 
 to his master; and discovered to him 
 his rank; promising, at same time, to 
 insure him the protection of the king 
 his father, as soon as he returned to 
 court. 
 
 The swineherd listened with great at- 
 tention ; and concluded, from the singu- 
 larity of the story, that his servant was 
 mad. The uniformity of Bladud's con-
 
 MOTHER. 197 
 
 duct, however, and the superiority of 
 his manners, soon won on the cottager, 
 who resolved to attend him to court, to 
 be satisfied as to the truth of what he 
 had uttered. 
 
 Not long after their arrival at the pa- 
 lace, Bladud found an opportunity, when 
 the King and Queen were dining in pub- 
 lic, to drop his ring into a glass of wine 
 about to be presented to the Queen. 
 
 Her Majesty, having drank, perceived 
 the ring; and instantly exclaimed — 
 « Where is Bladud my child?'* 
 
 At these words, an universal conster- 
 nation overspread the court ; when the 
 Prince, advancing into the circle, pros- 
 K 3
 
 198 INFIDEL 
 
 trated himself before his royal parents. 
 Their transport was Unbounded. 
 
 On the accession of Bladud to the 
 throne — he having preserved the secret 
 of his cure — he went to the hot springs, 
 where he had received his miraculous 
 cure; made cisterns about them; and 
 built himself a palace, with houses for 
 the chief of his subjects: the place, then, 
 taking the name of Caerbren, because it 
 was the seat of royalty. 
 
 These waters, according to Dr. John 
 Jones, in an epistle dedicatory to a book 
 bearing date 13 May, A. D. 1572, called, 
 " The Bathes of Bathes Ayde," have 
 been known for two thousand four hun- 
 dred and sixty-years, or thereabouts.
 
 MOTHER. 199 
 
 King Bladud gave a very handsome 
 estate to his old master, and his heirs for 
 ever : and having laid the foundation of 
 the city, and reigned a few years j he 
 died in a manner too tragical to be passed 
 over. 
 
 His Majesty having issued his com- 
 mands for the buildings to be erected, 
 devoted himself to study — insomuch, 
 that he initiated himself in the science 
 of magical operations, and taught necro- 
 mancy to his subjects. 
 
 At last he conceived himself to be 
 preternaturaliy gifted, and attempted to 
 mount the regions of the air, with wings 
 he had fabricated for the purpose. In 
 this he failed — and falling on a temple 
 K 5
 
 200 INFIDEL 
 
 in the city of Trinovantum, dedicated to 
 Apollo, he was dashed to pieces. 
 
 After his death, his body was depo- 
 sited at New Troy; and it appears by an 
 ancient record, that New Troy and Tri- 
 no van turn 5 were one and the same place, 
 and that, no. other than the present city 
 of Bath. 
 
 The ancient city has evidently been 
 destroyed several times, either by civil 
 commotions, or by fire; and it has been 
 ascertained by persons employed in dig- 
 ging about the city, that the ancient 
 ruins lay ten or twelve feet beneath the 
 existing edifices. 
 
 Under the direction of Mr. Nash, 
 Bath — then one of the poorest cities in
 
 MOTHER. 201 
 
 England; composed of rude inhabitants, 
 mean houses, and corresponding man- 
 ners — arose, gradually, into its present 
 celebrity. The Pump Room, the Old 
 Assembly Room, and all the seeds of 
 refinement, which have since so luxuri- 
 antly branched into perfection, were the 
 w^ork of his hand. And he had the 
 satisfaction to witness this growing im- 
 provement for upwards of fifty years, 
 that he reigned King of Bath, by the 
 imited and voluntary suffrages — not only 
 of the inhabitants, but the kingdom at 
 large.. 
 
 He was a man of infinite taste, elegant 
 manners, and, above all, goodness of 
 heart. He was distinguishable by a 
 white cocked hat, which he invariably 
 wore j and uever moved out of the city 
 K 5
 
 202 INFIDEL 
 
 — ^where chairs only are used — ^without 
 four horses to his chariot, and two out- 
 riders with French horns. He published 
 his edicts, daily, as circumstances re- 
 quired ; and insisted on an unequivocal 
 obedience to them. 
 
 Many anecdotes are related of his go- 
 vernment; placing him in different points 
 of view — but always to advantage. The 
 following will shew his unlimited power. 
 
 It was the fashion of those days to 
 wear, in a half dress, an elegant lace short 
 apron, with pockets in front; and one 
 evening several ladies appeared at the 
 rooms wearing these aprons. 
 
 Nash was extremely offended at this 
 mark of disrespect — his balls being al-
 
 MOTHER. 203 
 
 ways dress balls — and testified his disap- 
 probation, publicly; which he confirmed, 
 next morning, by a new edict, positively 
 forbidding their re-appearance. 
 
 The Princess Am a was then at 
 
 Bath, and a warm patroness of Nash*s. 
 Her Royal Highness had signified her 
 intention to visit the rooms on the fol- 
 lowing evening, and Nash waited at the 
 door to receive his royal visitor. 
 
 Perceiving the Princess to be habited 
 in a lace apron, the moment they entered 
 the room, he, respectfully, loosed the 
 knot, placed the apron beneath his arm, 
 and led her Royal Highness — who laugh- 
 ed with extreme good nature — to hef 
 seat. After this, his will was never dis- 
 puted. 
 
 K 6
 
 204 INFIDEL 
 
 The upper and lower rooms have 
 each a Master of the Ceremonies, which 
 situation is both honorable and lucrative. 
 They wear medals over the neck, richly 
 ornamented with brilliants, presented to 
 the oiEce by the public. 
 
 The Marquis received our hero with 
 much kindness ; and the Marchioness 
 with all that endearing afiability which 
 so eminently distinguished her — A cer- 
 tain mixture of tenderness and propri- 
 ety, qualified by gaiety, that spoke vo- 
 lumes; yet did not tell a tale. 
 
 Henry, on the other hand, had ahvays 
 viewed his cousin as a superior being — 
 he really loved her — ^but it was an affec- 
 tion proceeding from his adoration of
 
 MOTHER. 205 
 
 her virtues, unnerved by a single trait 
 of wanner sensibility. 
 
 He resumed his post; and the Mar- 
 quis being able, with the assistance of a 
 crutch, to take his own amusement, they 
 traversed the country, daily, in every 
 direction; visited the Hot Wells, CHf- 
 ton, and Fonthill the magnificent seat of 
 Mr. Beckford, where art, taste, and lux- 
 ury proudly rival each other. Badming- 
 ton, Farley Castle, and other neighbour- 
 ing seats, also claimed their attention. 
 The Marquis rented a house in the 
 Lower Crescent, whence the view of the 
 country, rising in front, and intersected 
 by the Avon, affords, on a fine day, the 
 most picturesque scene^ 
 
 In the midst of this easy familiarity,
 
 206 INFIDEL 
 
 the noble Lord's family was thrown into 
 a state of inconceivable consternation by 
 a packet from town ; and the next day's 
 paper detailing the whole event, all the 
 gossips in the city — male as well as fe- 
 male — eagerly crouded to the Pump- 
 room to ascertain the fact ; which was 
 siiftply this : • 
 
 Two days, previously, had been ap- 
 pointed to hear the Hamlyn cause. The 
 unfortunate husband — without money 
 — without friends — contemplated, with 
 unspeakable horror, the verdict which 
 he foresaw would be pronounced against 
 his honor. 
 
 As the day approached, agony suc- 
 ceeded agony; and mortality must have 
 yielded to the mighty pressure ; had not
 
 MOTHER. 207 
 
 Nature, in its kindliest mood, releved 
 his manly heart with woman's tears. 
 His little playfellow, who smiled with 
 cherub cheerfulness, while he partook 
 the garret of his father, in that father's 
 presence — terrified at a sight so new^ 
 eagerly climbed his parent's knee; and 
 mingling the unaffected tears of infantine 
 condolence, with the big drops that 
 chased adown poor Hamlyn's cheek — 
 sweetly conjured him " to cease crying, 
 if he would not break his little William's 
 heart.'' 
 
 While this scene passed, on one hand, 
 mark how the fair Infidel employed her 
 time. 
 
 Jane — her former maid — whom she 
 had continued to protect and support^
 
 208 INFIDEL 
 
 under the benevolent impression, that the 
 poor young creature was not to be lost 
 for one venial fault, attributable to the 
 subtleties of a wicked monster, rather 
 than to a failure in her own principles* 
 She, therefore, nobly gave her every as- 
 sistance: by which, she was enabled to 
 make a very gay appearance. The 
 neighbours,as she jaunted out in her new 
 f arr'd pelisse — not forgetting to say — 
 " Ah, you see how it is — that big belly 
 did not fall down from the moon— ^tis 
 a wonder how such husseys should 
 thrive, when honest, hard-working, 
 people can hardly earn enougii to main- 
 tain their families, and keep away the 
 wolf from the door." 
 
 The day was piercing cold— every 
 kennel was strongly frozen j and Mrs..
 
 MOTHER. 209 
 
 Hamlyn had, very kindly, prevailed on 
 Jane to take a glass of cherry brandy be- 
 ibre she went out in the cold ; and Jane 
 had prevailed on herself, to take a se- 
 cond while Mrs. Hamlyn stepp'd, for a 
 moment, in the next room : and thus 
 fortified, she prepared to return home- 
 ward, wishing her dear lady success, the 
 next day, against that vile man, who 
 could desert so much innocence and 
 beauty, to rob her of her precious var- 
 tue. 
 
 As she closed the sentence, Jane \^aped 
 her eye, and took leave — the house- 
 keeper, just then, tapping at the door. 
 
 But when the conscientious Jane reached 
 the street; she felt, gay, lively, alert; 
 and putting her best leg foremost, al-
 
 210 INFIDEL 
 
 most glided along the street : when, the 
 air associating with the cherry brandy. 
 Miss Jane!s head soon became as light as 
 her heels, and she tripp'd, with terrible 
 violence, on the icy pavement. 
 
 A gentleman passing, and observing 
 that she lay without motion, benevo- 
 lently offered his assistance to raise her 
 up; when it was discovered, that one of 
 her thighs was broken. Upon this, he 
 ordered a coach to convey her to Mid- 
 dlesex Hospital — the poor girl not being 
 able ,to declare her address — whither he, 
 humanely, attended in person. 
 
 The pain of uniting the broken limb, 
 brought the wretched sufferer to her 
 senses : a restorative was administered.
 
 MOTHER. 211 
 
 and she groaned, piteously, with exces- 
 sive pain. 
 
 At length the surgeon told her, that 
 the fracture was so complicated, he 
 feared it would be necessary to take off 
 the limb. On receiving this informa- 
 tion, she wrung her hands in agony, and 
 would have prayed; but she declared 
 she could not. — She fancied herself dy- 
 ing; yet could not ask for mercy. 
 
 " Oh, Sir!" — seizing on the arm of 
 the surgeon — " I have been a sad wicked 
 creature. Suffer me not to quit the 
 world loaded as I am with sin. For 
 God's sake, send instantly for a magis- 
 trate — and let me strive to save my poor 
 soul."
 
 212 INFIDEL 
 
 Her manner was so frenzied, the 
 young man feared an access of fever — 
 She appeared, also, near her time — he 
 thought not an instant should be lost in 
 complying with her request. 
 
 A gentleman instantly attended from 
 Berners Street; when* amid sighs, groans, 
 shrieks, and agonies, she incoherently 
 related to the following purport* 
 
 " That she was a poor girl, the daugh- 
 ter of an honest cottager, w^ho, having a 
 large family to maintain, pressed her to 
 seek a service as she advanced to woman- 
 hood. 
 
 " That she had, soon after, the good 
 fortune as she then supposed, to be taken
 
 MOTHER, 213 
 
 into the family of Mr. HamlvTi, as a maid 
 of all work. 
 
 " That she was much distinguished 
 by her mistress, who gave her presents 
 unbecoming her situation; but which 
 too effectually flattered her vanity. 
 
 " That her mistress perceiving the 
 effect produced on her weak mind, 
 augmented her attentions; and, at length, 
 plainly declared to her, she would make 
 her fortune; that she should be en- 
 abled to dress like a fine lady, all the 
 days of her life, if she would but con- 
 sent to do her a little service. 
 
 " That the result of this conversation 
 wasjproposals on the part of the mistress, 
 and a fatal acquiescence on hers, to
 
 214 INFIDEL 
 
 feign herself with child, and swear the 
 
 child to her master. 
 
 " That a divorce would in all proba- 
 bility, on such her testimony, have been 
 decreed the following day, had not the 
 Almighty, for his own wise purpose, so 
 counteracted their wicked plans. 
 
 " That Sarah MofFatt— whose ad- 
 dress she gave — had been bribed by Mrs, 
 Hamlyn to sell her the child of which 
 she was, then, nearly eight months gone 
 — and that such child was to pass for 
 the issue of Mr. Hamlyn and herself. 
 
 " That she had, consequently, feigned 
 pregnancy; and every body had been 
 deceived."
 
 MOTHER. 215 
 
 She then related the conversation 
 that had passed, that morning, between 
 Mrs. Hamlyn and herself; and pro- 
 a twenty-pound note in confirmation 
 of it.'* 
 
 The magistrate said he would imme- 
 diately issue a warrant for the appre- 
 hension of Sarah MofFatt; and then 
 enquired of the doctor, whether he 
 feared his patient to be in danger. 
 
 He replied, every thing was to be 
 apprehended from the irritable state of 
 the patient's mind 3 but that her youth 
 was much in her favor. 
 
 The magistrate having offered her a 
 consolatory admonition, and prayed her 
 to conceal nothinsc of this dreadful trans-
 
 216 INFIDEL 
 
 action, took his leave, promising to call 
 next morning. 
 
 With the earliest dawn, Mrs. Hamlyn 
 arose — but although she strove to feel 
 as light as she wished to be — the effort 
 was fruitless. An involuntary oppres- 
 sion chid her too great anxiety, and the 
 unqualified joy with which she had, 
 hitherto, expected the hour of trial, was, 
 repressed by an emotion of which she 
 knew not the name. 
 
 Behold her in the Court. Surrounded 
 by her family — encouraged by her 
 friends — a crouded gallery of well dress- 
 ed women intently gazing, with eyes of 
 compassion, on her untoward fate. 
 Some admiring her extreme beauty- 
 others delighted with the innocency of
 
 MOTHER. 217 
 
 her countenance, and the modesty of 
 her deportment. 
 
 The libel having been read ; and the 
 enormity of the case laid open to the 
 court by Mr. Attorney General ; he 
 prepared to substantiate the facts he had 
 stated, by evidence. 
 
 " Let Jane Harvey be called." 
 
 The cryer, thrice, announced the 
 name of Jane Harve)^ — and, thrice, he 
 proclaimed the forfeiture of her recog- 
 nisance. 
 
 A junior counsel now arose ; and 
 having briefly related to the court the 
 accident which had befallen the witness; 
 stated, that he was in possession of her 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 INFIDEL 
 
 deposition, which, he prayed, the court 
 might order to be publickly read. 
 
 The judge complied — ^but the clerk 
 had not read many lines, before Mrs. 
 Melmoth and Mrs. Hamlyn shrieked, 
 and fainted. Many ladies were seized 
 with hysterics in the gallery ; and the 
 court was impressed with an air of 
 solemn horror. 
 
 Here let us pause ! 
 
 The age of the fair delinquent^-the 
 peculiar atrocity of her crime— call for 
 our serious contemplation. 
 
 Modern infidelity, not only tends to 
 corrupt the moral taste ; but promotes 
 the growth of vices, hostile to social
 
 MOTHER. 219 
 
 liappiness, and degrading to humanity. 
 Religion changes with the fashion of 
 the day — the understanding changes 
 with it — and reason assists the illusion 
 by a brilliancy of sophistry, calculated 
 to mislead any mind without principles; 
 as well as to encourage the errors of 
 those, who vainly think themselves suiS- 
 ciently wise, to depart from the esta- 
 blish maxims of their country— its 
 TENETS — and their God! 
 
 It is much to be lamented that writers 
 — whose talents stamp celebrity on 
 their opinions — have too much en- 
 couraged this baneful practice. 
 
 We read, in Fontenelle, " That the 
 law of infidelity in marriage is a cruel 
 and barbarous law : that when man and 
 l2
 
 220 INFIDEL 
 
 wife cease to love ; they, progressively, 
 begin to hate : that the desires are 
 variable and ambulatory — made so by 
 Providence — and, that their indulgence 
 is conformable to the laws of human 
 nature — ^primary to all other laws ! 
 
 *^ Are divorces favorable to incon- 
 stancy ? — Certainly not. — They would, 
 the contrary, prevent crime : for when 
 the marriage of two persons is equally 
 irksome to both, they can only be com- 
 pared with two unfortunate people 
 chained, by the order of an implacable 
 tyrant, to the same oar — ^is it then 
 morally a sin, to seek a relief from such 
 a bondage ? 
 
 " A desire to be happy is the wish of 
 every one— -and the promotion of that
 
 MOTHER. '221 
 
 desire should be an object with the state. 
 Whereas, to be compelled to suffer a re- 
 ciprocity of torment, is a punishment 
 not decreed by Heaven — nor can Omni- 
 potent Mercy ordain it as an expiation 
 of our transitory errors in this Hfe." 
 
 Helvetius tells us, " That, in some 
 countries, men have a plurality of wives, 
 as well as concubines : in others, they 
 do not marry till after three or four 
 years probation : and, that there are still 
 other countries, where women are in 
 common ; or, where the union of the 
 man and wife is of no longer duration 
 than their love. 
 
 " Whence comes it, then,'' — he adds 
 — " that this important problem, so 
 L 3
 
 222 INFIDEL 
 
 essential to the public good, has never 
 yet been, properly, resolved ? 
 
 *^ Because nations, being obstinately 
 attached to their ancient customs, will 
 not change them, unless compelled by 
 absolute necessity. Meanwhile^ societies 
 subsist ; though less happily ; and the 
 supine legislature is content." 
 
 The frailty of human nature readily 
 coincides with every dictate of illusive 
 sympathy. It, therefore, behoves the 
 moral few, to hold up this existing evil, 
 like a mirror, to the woild at large — 
 and not only to point out the dreadful 
 mischiefs to accrue — by precept, but to 
 make the contrast more striking — by 
 
 EXAMPLJg.
 
 jaOTHER. 223 
 
 In this hope— we do, most fervently, 
 
 j.oinl 
 
 The Marchioness ordered her doors 
 to be shut against the friendly condole- 
 ments of her fashionable intimates. The 
 Marquis was like a madman j and Henry 
 palsied with astonishment. 
 
 In this seclusion. Lady Derry, thus, 
 addressed her sister. 
 
 " Loiver Crescent, 
 ** Thoughtless, inconsiderate, weak, 
 young woman ! what is now become 
 of your daring philosophy? — what aid 
 can you employ to stem the tide of 
 contumely, rushing in torrents to over- 
 whelm you ? 
 
 l4
 
 224 INFIDEL 
 
 " Prudence, like the girdle of Venus, 
 gives grace, beauty, and allurement to 
 the wearer : had you possessed common 
 caution^ with a man, so dotingly blind as 
 Harolyn was to all your foibles, you 
 might have been as happy as you are, 
 comparatively, wretched. 
 
 " I agree with you, that every ra- 
 tional being seeks enjoyment from the 
 expansion of the riiind. We feel the 
 comprehensive powers of the intellec- 
 tual gift, and thirst to employ them in 
 a general and comprehensive view of 
 things. We contemplate the variety 
 which observation presents us with — 
 v/e compare — separate — or combine. 
 But believe me, Charlotte — hovv^ever I 
 may, formerly, have argued — superficial
 
 MOTHER. 225 
 
 views are all that ever were intended 
 for the study of our sex. The softer 
 powers to please are feminine preroga- 
 tives, and we should be contented with 
 them. Philosophy finds votaries enough 
 among mankind. 
 
 " Have you never analized the differ- 
 ent emotions with which you have 
 viewed a gallery of paintings ? 
 
 " The majesty that reigns in the dra- 
 peries of Paul Veronese excites our 
 warmest admiration : we wonder — but 
 our feelings are more agreeably touched 
 with the simpUcity of Raphael, and the 
 graces that flow from the pencil of 
 Cprregio — they, are impressive. 
 
 " In like manner, the bold opinions 
 L 5
 
 *226 INFIDEi. 
 
 of a female Casuist m^ij provoke surprise^^ 
 but they never can command a warmer 
 approbation ; — she is, at best, half a 
 woman, and half a philosopher, without 
 the perfections of either. 
 
 " Farewell^ — I pity you from my soul 
 — but the Marquis forbids more — we 
 cannot meet again \ my system shudder- 
 ing at open disobedience, alike to the 
 laws of society, and the reasonable wishes 
 of my husband* 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Emma."- 
 
 On the following morning, however, 
 the Marchioness^ at the express entreaty 
 of her Lord, appeared, as usual, on 
 Henry's arm in tlie pump room \ and
 
 MOTHER. 227 
 
 in the evening at the theatre ; determin- 
 ed to brave it out. 
 
 Nobody, of course, ventured to speak 
 openly to her Ladyship on the deriliction 
 of her sister : the eyes, gestures, and 
 pointed whispers of all around her, be- 
 spoke, however, the subject of their 
 thoughts. But the Marchioness, on 
 this occasion, was even more than her 
 amiable self: the smile of bewitching 
 affability sported on her lovely cheek : 
 she flattered every one with such becom- 
 ing grace — such delicacy of allusion— 
 the charm was irresistible. Even scan- 
 dal, for the moment, was suffered to 
 retreat, and every female bosom acknow- 
 ledged the superior influence of flat- 
 tery. 
 
 L 6
 
 228 INFIDEL 
 
 Flattery is a kind of civil idolatry ; 
 it worships images of its own creation ; 
 and then, like the bold Promotheus, 
 animates them — ^not with the fire of the 
 sun — but with the brilliant sparks that 
 emanate from collision with self-love. 
 
 A poor Derveish travelling o'er the 
 scorching plains of Hindustan, had the 
 good fortune to find a small magic 
 mirror, whose property it was, to re- 
 flect beauty on every object, however 
 deformed, who gazed upon it. The 
 border was of pure gold, impressed with 
 certain talismanic characters. 
 
 " Alia, be praised !" — exclaimed the 
 Derveish — and pursued his route to the 
 city of Delhi.
 
 MOTHER. 229 
 
 Every morning the poor Derveish 
 stationed himself before the principal 
 porch of the grand Mosque ; and as 
 the female votaries of religion approach- 
 ed to prostrate themselves before the 
 prophet J he presented, to them, his 
 magic mirror, and was always repaid 
 with more than common alms. 
 
 For a length of time, the Derveish 
 pursued his successful avocation : till 
 being taken ill, he deputed his son to 
 attend the Mosque. 
 
 Towards evening the youth returned^ 
 but brousfht no alms with him. 
 
 o 
 
 " How, my son 1" — exclaimed the 
 -astonished Derveish—" how is this ? —
 
 250 INFIDEL 
 
 did you present the mirror, as I in- 
 structed you, to all who passed ?" 
 
 " Father !" — returned the abashed 
 youth — " I was so delighted in contem- 
 plating my own figure, that I forgot to 
 obey your orders." 
 
 " Oh, thou simpleton!" — answered 
 the Derveish — those, who flatter others, 
 afe WISE — those, who flatter themselves, 
 
 POOLS." 
 
 And this was the magic mirror held 
 up, by the Marchioness, to all her friends 
 •—the talismanic characters were her 
 own personal graces, whose illusive 
 powers new mxodelled the circle that 
 surrounded her.
 
 MOTHER. 2Sl 
 
 Bath may be called the nursery of 
 the London theatres, and always abounds 
 with promising young pupils. Henry 
 enjoyed a mental feast. 
 
 The follo\^^ng evening was passed at 
 the rooms ; and it is, merely, justice t,o 
 declare, that no place in England — dur- 
 ing a full season — affords so brilHant ?. 
 circle of polite company. 
 
 The young, the old, the grave, the 
 gay, the infirm and the healthy, all, re- 
 sort to this seducing vortex of amuse- 
 ment. Ceremony, beyond the essential 
 rules of politeness, is totally exploded* 
 Every one mixes upon an equality ; and 
 the rooms offer rational amusements for 
 every evening in the week — the w-hich, 
 however, regularly cease— -even in the
 
 232 INFIDEL 
 
 middle of a dance — the moment the 
 clock strikes twelve. 
 
 But this privation is amply compen- 
 sated^ by the midnight orgies of the faro 
 table — rouge et noir — and lotto \ which 
 elegant amusement reigns, in all its 
 pride, at the house of a lady of fashion, 
 in the upper town. 
 
 This obliging lady is a widow ; blessed 
 with two daughters highly favored 
 by the graces ; and these accomplished 
 creatures are so hospitable^ that while 
 they feast the senses of the men, they 
 have the talent, likev/ise, to feast their 
 own pockets. On which little pickings 
 they live genteely, and contrive, out of 
 three hundred per annum, to spend 
 three thousand j and yet keep clear of
 
 MOTHER. 233 
 
 debt. You feel it an honor to salute 
 them — they feel it a glory to fleece 
 you. 
 
 Some evenings after, was distin- 
 guished by a private masquerade given, 
 by the Marchioness of Derry, to a select 
 party of about four hundred persons. 
 
 The lovely hostess appeared in the 
 character of Night ; habited in black 
 crape bespangled with diamonds : the 
 effect was singularly elegant. 
 
 Henry personated a negro in his holi- 
 day cloaths; strumming a Banj a — which 
 is a sort of guitar, with three strings, 
 on which negroes are very expert per- 
 formers.
 
 234 INFIDEI. 
 
 Three fancy figures representing, ^<?/^,. 
 Didelot^ and Parisot^ appeared with gar- 
 lands of artificial roses, and performed 
 the celebrated pas de trois, with incon- 
 ceivable expression and grace. 
 
 Tiddy Doll — ^the gingerbread man- 
 very profuse in the distribution of his 
 nuts^ which, being purposely prepared 
 with honey and kyan, set every one 
 dancing who partook of them, as if they 
 had been bitten by a Tarantula. 
 
 " Shave you^ directly^ sir^' — a most 
 excellent Dicky Gossip — his lather was 
 mixed with lamp black; and applied, 
 without much ceremony, to every pass- 
 ing chin. 
 
 J. Bacchante — not in the least ashamed
 
 MOTHER. 235 
 
 of a well shaped leg and ancle. This 
 lady was remarkable for harmony of 
 spirits — elegance of movement — and 
 brilliancy of repartee. 
 
 A Jille de Chamhre — she might have 
 fallen off her centre to eternity, without 
 putting the virtue of a sentimentalist to 
 the proof. 
 
 La Fleur^ in his scarlet coat, from the 
 Rue Friperie — blue satin waistcoat 
 twice scoured — silk stockings, bag, 
 and bouquet. — " And above all, nature 
 had given him a handsome person." 
 This mask, admirably well supported. 
 Many of the female dominos appeared 
 disposed to qualify themselves to want 
 pardons from Rome.
 
 23b INFIDEL 
 
 A Chimney Sweeper^ in the fineries oi 
 May day. — The little sooty devil was 
 here, there, and every where — extreme- 
 ly well supported. 
 
 There were many other characters — 
 without spirit, humor, vivacity, or badi- 
 nage. 
 
 Henry, about one in the morning, was 
 just retreating from a circle, whom he 
 had been amusing by dancing — in cha- 
 racter—a Negro dance ; when he felt 
 himself gently pulled by the sleeve. 
 
 An elegant female domino, as he 
 turned round, presented herself to his 
 notice. She v/as very closely masked, 
 and dressed in light blue silk : her finger
 
 MOTHER. 237 
 
 pressed on her mask, over the lip ; and 
 perceiving herself observed, she, hastily, 
 retreated lo an inner room, almost va- 
 cated. 
 
 Throwing herself on a sociable, that 
 filled a distant recess — Henry who had 
 closely pursued her, occupied the vacant 
 sdat. 
 
 The lady, then, raising her left hand, 
 extended the fingers ; and running over 
 the vowels with the middle finger of 
 her right hand — ^looked steadfasdy at 
 her companion. 
 
 " Proceed" — replied Henry with the 
 help of his fingers. 
 
 " Can you be secret ?"
 
 233 INFIDEL 
 
 « As the grave." 
 
 « And as duU ?" 
 
 " Try me.'" 
 
 " At the fruit shop in the Abbey 
 you will hear more — one, to-morrow— 
 away !" 
 
 So saying — with the airy graces of a 
 fairy, the mask tripped forwards, leaving 
 our hero lost in astonishment, 
 
 " The gauntlet is at my feet, by 
 Heaven I'' — thought Henry — " and it 
 shall be my fault if I do not take it up*" 
 
 On his return to the room, he was 
 accosted by a mask dressed in a tarnished 
 lace frock. Good humor smiled, on his
 
 MOTHER. 2^9 
 
 countenance ; and when he opened Kls 
 lips, they instantly announced his coun- 
 try. 
 
 " Arrah, now — my good fellow — 
 would you just be after informing a 
 foreigner — who is your countryman — 
 will he get some supper soon ? for in- 
 deed, and upon my honor, eating and 
 drinking is so unconscionably dear in 
 this same little City of Bath, I thought 
 I might as well dine and sup together ; 
 — 'tis saving trouble you know, honey." 
 
 *^ (Economical and thoughtful'* — ^said 
 Henry. 
 
 *' Och ! success to old Ireland — there 
 you may buy a whole salmon for six-
 
 240 INFIDEL 
 
 pence — skipping alive, you rogue you — 
 and twelve mackerel for two-pence.'* 
 
 " Why then — my good sir — did you 
 leave so cheap a country, when you 
 fear expence ?" 
 
 " Why did I leave it? — arrah, my 
 jewel ! and where would I get the six- 
 pences, and the two-pences — ^you know !" 
 
 A magnificent supper, and some ex- 
 cellent songs ; particularly a duet by 
 Dermot and Judy — highly in character 
 —concluded the festivities ) and, by five 
 in the morning, the rooms were com- 
 pletely cleared. 
 
 At noon, Henry arose ; and feeling
 
 MOTHER. 241 
 
 it would not be national to neglect his 
 appointment, he was true to the hour. 
 
 An old woman — leading him into 
 a small back shop — told him he was a 
 happy man : that she had the honor to 
 s€r*ue all the nobility and gentry that 
 came to Bath^ and could promise him 
 it was the hidys first slip, 
 
 " Who is she ? — where Is she ? — when 
 can I see her ? — where can 1 see her ? — 
 speak ! — speak 1 — or for ever hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 This rhapsody was qualified by a 
 ten pound note. 
 
 " Softly — your honor — ^sofdy ! — 
 Warm and generous : Heaven bless you 
 
 VOL. I, M
 
 242 INFIDEJL. 
 
 —•you shall never want any thing in 
 7ny ivay — ^but as I was a saying — ^well, 
 then, your honor, first promise me that 
 you will not utter a single syllable if I 
 lead you to an appointment.'* 
 
 " Rather a hard imposition, my 
 bonnv dame.'* 
 
 " Promise, sir, or I proceed no farther.'* 
 
 " Well I do — that — any thing — ^)^ou 
 keep me on the rack." 
 
 *' But you must observe what you 
 promise — faithfully, and as a man of 
 honor — may I trust you ?'* 
 
 ^^ By Heaven you may,"
 
 MOTHER. 243 
 
 " Swear, that you will not press the 
 lady by any sign, token, or action, to 
 prolong her stay, one minute, beyond 
 her will" 
 
 " Never fear me.*— I swear I will 
 not.'* 
 
 " As to that — your honor — she will 
 not be in any violent hurry to run away 
 — she'll stay as long as it is prudent, I 
 warrant me. Well then, be here at 
 nine this evening — nine exactly/' 
 
 At dinner the Marchioness expressed 
 a wish to go to the play, 
 
 " You will attend me, Henry— we 
 shall be alone— I will muffle up in a 
 pellisse.'^ 
 
 M 2
 
 244 INFIDEL 
 
 " Your Ladyship will excuse me, I 
 am sure" — said Henry 5 reddening as he 
 spoke — " when I assure you 1 have a 
 particular engagement that I cannot put 
 ofF. 
 
 5' But, indeed, my Ladyship will not 
 excuse you, Henry — are you not my 
 avowed Cecisbeo ?— do I ever stir out 
 without you ? — and will you oppose my 
 command." 
 
 " Your Ladyship is certainly too des- 
 potic" — said the Marquis—" Young 
 men must have their engagements, and 
 it is not fair to probe your cousin too 
 deeply.*' 
 
 " Well then, I consent—but remem-
 
 MOTHER. 245 
 
 ber, Henry, this is an infringement on 
 your allegiance. I expect that you ask 
 my permission, ere you dispose of your- 
 self for the evening.'' 
 
 At eight our hero took leave ; and 
 the Marquis said he would go to the club. 
 Her Ladyship — thus deserted — ordered 
 her chair ; observing, slightly, that she 
 might as well pass an hour some where. 
 The gentlemen promised to return to 
 supper at twelve. 
 
 The Abbey clock struck one — two 
 
 Henry, who had been waiting, rushed 
 into the old woman's shop. 
 
 " True to your word, I see" — said 
 
 M 3
 
 '246 INFIDEL 
 
 this convenient dame — " I am ready, 
 and you may follow me." 
 
 They came to a court. 
 
 " Now you must let me blindfold 
 you, your honor/' 
 
 He gave her his handkerchief, and 
 she bound his eyes. Presently, the old 
 woman stopped j and with a key from 
 her own pocket, she opened the door. 
 
 " Mind your steps^-now you are at 
 the bottom of the stairs — -turn to the 
 left.'^ 
 
 He reached the landing place; and 
 his conductor, having blown out the 
 candle she carried, pushed him through
 
 MOTHER. 247 
 
 through an opened door : he found him- 
 self in a room, with just sufficient light, 
 from part of an unclosed shutter, to dis- 
 tinguish a bed. 
 
 This intelligence was suiKciently ex- 
 planatory, and he profited by his good 
 fortune. 
 
 At about half past eleven, the old wo- 
 man knocked at the door, and told 
 Henry he must immediately depart. 
 
 He remembered his promise, and com- 
 plied. The same caution was observed 
 at his retreat; and when they reached 
 the corner of the court, he was released 
 from the bandage, and desired to call, at 
 the same hour, on the Sunday morning 
 following. 
 
 M. 4-
 
 248 INFIDEL 
 
 He did so ; and received an embossed, 
 perfumed note, with these words, writ- 
 ten in remarkably small, but equally 
 distinct, characters. 
 
 Bell' Idolo d'amore, 
 Che m-impiagaste il core. 
 Dinanzi a te veng'io— 
 A chiederti pieta. 
 
 To this gallant billet — Henry returned 
 the following reply. 
 
 Disguised — one night — I rush'd from home. 
 To seek communion with my soul ; 
 
 By silent steps I reach'd the dome, 
 And to Love's chamber softli/ stole. 
 
 On a voluptuous couch reclin'd, 
 
 In sweet repose, T found the maid ; 
 
 My breath — like aspens on the wind — 
 To Love's alarum softli/ play'd.
 
 MOTHER. 249 
 
 Two fingers — then^-to half expanse, 
 
 I trembling op'd — with fear oppress' d— 
 
 Then gently pull'd her veil askance, 
 And, sofflj/^ d^e^v her to my breast. 
 
 Trembling with love — with hope — with fear — 
 At length her ruby lips I press'd: 
 
 Sweet kisses, oft — mellifluous — dear — 
 Softly I snatch'd — was, softly^ blest. 
 
 Now, by her side, with bliss I glow'd ; 
 
 Swift flew the hours in am'rous play ; 
 At length, the envious herald crow'd, 
 
 When, softly^ thence I bent my way. 
 
 Evening came — the same ceremony — 
 the same repast. 
 
 Meanwhile Henry had received fre- 
 quent letters from Madame de Sl 
 Amand; and others from Caroline, com- 
 plaining, tenderly^ of his absence ; and 
 u5
 
 250 INFIDEL 
 
 praying him — // he loved her — to return 
 soon. 
 
 Again, and again, he was admitted to 
 his mysterious beauty — for imagination 
 had clothed her in all the charms of 
 youth and loveliness — and still had pre- 
 served his oath. He — breathing forth 
 the fond impatience of his love: She — 
 gently murmuring all the transports of 
 her soul. The birth- day approached: 
 On the morrov/ the Marquis and Mar- 
 chioness set off for town; Henry had 
 his own travelling chaise, and promised 
 to follow in a day or two. 
 
 He thought — so powerful is consci- 
 ence — that the Marchioness looked at 
 him with a sort of inquiring glance, as 
 he hesitated in naming the positive day
 
 MOTHER. 251 
 
 of his departure — But how was it pos- 
 sible to leave his charming incognita? 
 He resolved to be more than pressing, 
 with her, at the next interview; to learn 
 her future destination j and f^an future 
 meetings. 
 
 " Well, my good friend," said he, en- 
 tering the fruit shop — " when shall I 
 
 " The lady — ^your honor — has lefr 
 Bath." 
 
 " Left Bath*' — Henry repeated, re- 
 coiling at the sound — " impossible." 
 
 " I wish it was — your honor — such*, 
 a sweet-tempered, obliging, kind, good,, 
 charitable young lady — I am sure I could-
 
 262 INFIDEL 
 
 cry my eyes out: but what good would 
 that do, your honor?" 
 
 Finding it to be really so — Henry 
 bribed, entreated, threatened, swore, 
 prayed — but all to no purpose: She 
 either did not, or would not, tell who 
 his enamorata was, or where she was 
 gone. 
 
 In this state of uncertainty, he pet- 
 tishly flung out of the room; muttering, 
 something, very like a curse on the poor 
 old woman — ^who, no longer " Cupid's 
 Messenger" appeared in all her native 
 want of agremens. 
 
 At dinner, Henry sat pensively — hi^ 
 usual flow of spirits had forsaken him — 
 He would give the world to know more
 
 . MOTHER. 2SS 
 
 of his incognita. He frequently caught 
 the Marchioness's eyes gazing intently 
 on him; but he continued silent: the 
 more he strove to rally — the more he 
 found the effort unsuccessful. 
 
 In the morning they parted: Henry 
 saying he would follow them, in course 
 of the day. 
 
 As she leaned upon his arm to her car- 
 riage, the Marchioness playfully said, 
 
 " Be sure you bring your heart away, 
 with you, Henry — You will find em- 
 ployment for it, this next winter, in 
 town." 
 
 Kissing her hand, the carriage drove 
 from the door.
 
 254 INFIBEIL 
 
 Henry paid another visit to the fruit 
 shop. He laid his purse upon the table : 
 desired her to name her price: he would 
 make her fortune, if she would relieve 
 his torments. 
 
 But all to no purpose. He went 
 home, extremely discomposed; and or- 
 dered his carriage to be ready at two. 
 
 In the mean time, he visited the court, 
 where he found about ten or twelve 
 small houses, on either side; but nothing, 
 that, in any wise, could guide him to 
 the scene of all his former raptures. He 
 found himself violently in love with a 
 woman he had never seen. 
 
 Such is the perverseness of human na- 
 ture, we covet the shadow that is beyond
 
 MOTHER. 255 
 
 ©ur reach; and despise the substance that 
 courts our acceptance. On Madame de 
 St. Amand he scarcely ever bestowed a 
 thought — She, who, by art, could dis- 
 tend the passions to a very agony of 
 bliss — she, who woo'd him, with endless 
 raptures, to her arms — he could, wil- 
 Hngly, give up; but the mysterious 
 beauty — she, whom he never had seen ; 
 and, most probably, never should see — 
 oh, he loved her more than life. Even 
 Lady Harriet, during this paroxysm, 
 was forgotten. 
 
 About eight in the evening, he dined 
 at Reading; and having recruited his 
 spirits with the best wine he could get 
 — ^" hot with the Tuscan grape" — he re- 
 solved to drive straight to Caroline's — 
 " he should-— 'jc? ^^r^^^^/y— surprise her!
 
 256 ' INFIDEL 
 
 and no remedy was so good to drive one 
 woman out of a man's head, as — another 
 
 woman.'* 
 
 By the bye — I never knew any good 
 arise out oi\\\Q%Q surprises', they are very 
 sentimental, no doubt ; but a man often 
 sees, more than he wishes; and if he is 
 wise, he will not draw the veil that hides 
 his own miseries from him — This in the 
 way of digression. 
 
 There was a strange sort of bustle and 
 confusion when the carriage stopped in 
 Manchester Street; but then it was two 
 in the morning; and every body shews 
 awkwardness and stupidity at being sud- 
 denly called out of bed from a sound 
 §leep^
 
 iMOTH£R. 257 
 
 '* How is your mistress, Betty r*' 
 
 " Pure well, I thank you, Sir! — Mis- 
 tress will be so happy to see you. She 
 is for ever talking about you, Sir." 
 
 " Your mistress is a dear, sweet, 
 creature — Come, light me up stairs/' 
 
 " My dear Henry T* 
 
 Miss Caroline had thrown a wrapper 
 over her shoulders; and pressing her 
 lover to her heart, saluted him as above, 
 with every symptom of unaffected plea- 
 sure and endearment. 
 
 " Had you but stolen up quietly — 
 Henry — you would have caught my 
 sister Soph in bed with me; and you
 
 t5S INFIDEL 
 
 know what a little prude she is — We 
 should have had such fun with her." 
 
 The lady retired to bed, while her 
 dear Henry was undressing; who^ hav- 
 ing made ratber a singular disco very, 
 replied to her last sentence, 
 
 " And pray, my dear, does your sis- 
 ter Soph wear pink silk braces?" 
 
 << Braces, Henry!" 
 
 " See here' * — ^holding up a very hand- 
 some pair of gentleman's braces. 
 
 '' Perhaps" — added he — " your sister 
 Soph can tell me something about them 
 — I will inquire'* — taking a candle.
 
 MOTHER. 259 
 
 " This is my house — Mr. Torrid — 
 and I insist on maintaining my own pri- 
 vileges. If you are mean spirited enough 
 tobe jealous, I. don't desire your com- 
 pany. The door by which you entered> 
 Sir, will give you free egress.'* 
 
 Possibly this last speech was played off 
 as a finesse. Be that as it may — Henry, 
 calmly, put on his coat again, wished 
 her pleasant dreams, and departed; 
 taking with him the braces, which he 
 declared should be exposed on a poll, in 
 Bond Street, to be claimed by the right- 
 ful owner, 
 
 ^ Next day he wrote to Caroline as 
 follows.
 
 260 INFIDEL 
 
 " Dear Caroline, " Limmer's. 
 
 " I do not like any one to meddle 
 Math my amours : nor do I think it fair 
 to interfere with those of others. 
 
 " Adieu. We shall meet at some 
 public place — till then believe me 
 ** Yours sincerely, 
 
 " H. Torrid/* 
 
 *« Pray accept the enclosed bills.'* 
 
 His valet returned with an answer. 
 
 " Manchester Street. 
 " Dear Henry, 
 " I admitted you on my establishment 
 with pleasure; and dismiss you without 
 pain. 
 
 " Ainsi va le monde.
 
 MOTHER. 261 
 
 " Your bills are most acceptable ; and 
 as I hate to be outdone in generosity, 
 enclose you a few of mine; which will, 
 I hope, prove as acceptable to you. 
 
 *' I shall die till I have the happiness to 
 see you — En attendant — 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " Caroline.'* 
 
 Henry enclosed the lady bank bills for 
 five hundred pounds; and the lady re- 
 turned him tradesmen's bills for up- 
 wards of two thousand. 
 
 " She's a girl of spirit, at any rate'' — 
 — said Henry — " and every man de- 
 serves to be thus cajoled who wastes his 
 fortune upon an unthankful harlot. The 
 money this extravagant jade has cost me.
 
 262 INFIDEL 
 
 in one summer, would support twenty 
 poor deserving families all the days of 
 their lives." 
 
 Our hero was never less in temper 
 with himself. Such incalculable profu- 
 sion! " Should he pay it?— certainly — 
 or her person would." 
 
 A smile beamed on his countenance. 
 
 " Good Heaven ! shall I suflfer that 
 lovely form which I have fondly pressed 
 within my arms, to writhe under the 
 poisonous touch of a villainous bailiff's 
 fangs? 
 
 " Never!" • '^ 
 
 And he ordered the whole to be dis- 
 chargede
 
 MOTHER. 26S 
 
 *' Psha!" — cries the snarling critic — 
 *' your hero is not generous — he is licen^ 
 tious." 
 
 To which I reply 5 the happy medium 
 of knowing when to give, and how to 
 give, is a secret known to few. Man* 
 kind is usually liberal beyond prudence j 
 or parsimonious beyond meanness. 
 
 We have established one fact — let us 
 attempt the other. 
 
 When the present Duke of N — — * 
 then Earl of P — — , conomanded a 
 marching regiment, at Limerick in Ire- 
 land ; he — after many rubs, and repeated 
 hrgad hints from the newspapers— ^con- 
 sented to give the officers a public din«« 
 B«ar> which hfe ordered at a taverns, in
 
 264" INFIDEL 
 
 the town, at one shilling and sixpence a- 
 head. 
 
 The officers hearing this, were re- 
 solved to shew the generosity of their 
 souls, and the littleness of his. For this 
 purpose, they went to the tavern keeper, 
 and desired him to prepare the dinner 
 at one guinea per head, and they would 
 pay him the difference. 
 
 When the company assembled at ta* 
 ble, they found a first course comprising 
 every delicacy in season : the second was 
 still more costly: the desert magnificent. 
 
 The noble Earl was astonished — and 
 his astonishment increased, when bur- 
 gundy, champagne, and other costly 
 wines, appeared upon the board—but 
 he was silent.
 
 MOTHER. ^265 
 
 The company drank his health with 
 three times three — admired the splendor 
 of his entertainment, which they de- 
 dared to be worthy the house of P 
 
 and indeed, so well did his guests er^oy 
 their entertainment, they sat till eight 
 in the morning, breaking and spilling, 
 when they could drink no longer, pur- 
 posely to swell the bill. 
 
 In the morning, the Noble Earl sent 
 for Mr. Boniface, and, asked him the 
 meaning of the dinner he had served 
 up, and whether he supposed huTi so 
 simple as to pay for it. 
 
 " Please you, my lord,'* — answered 
 Boniface — " I claim only eighteen pence 
 a-head from your Lordship." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 ^66 INFIDEL 
 
 " How SO?*' — demanded his Lord- 
 ship. 
 
 Mr. Boniface explained — and the No- 
 ble Lord felt so much ashamed of his 
 penury, that he paid the whole amount 
 without another comment. 
 
 These are the extreme^ which form 
 the Scylla and Charybdis in the sea of 
 life : and happy is the man, whose skill 
 and experience teach him so to trim his 
 vessel, that he avoids the fatality of 
 either rock. 
 
 The profusion of the one, however, 
 enriches many — ^the parsimony of the 
 other gladdens not— -even his own 
 heart!
 
 MOTHER. 267 
 
 Henry repaired to his Uncle's in 
 Charles Street: his aunt, only, was at 
 home. She told her tale, varnished with 
 a hypocritical tear; and concluded, with 
 lamenting, that Mr. Melmoth had driven 
 her poor child from his house; and 
 would not suffer her name to be pro- 
 nounced in his hearing. 
 
 The evening he passed in Park Street 
 — ^but who can express his feeHngs at his 
 sudden meeting with Lady Harriet! — 
 To her the surprise was excessive — an 
 increasing glow, upon her cheek, added 
 to her native beauty; and an amiable 
 confusion gave new graces to her inborn 
 modesty. 
 
 This salute was, mutually, awkward 
 
 N2
 
 268 INFIDEL 
 
 — but apparently unnoticed. They 
 talked of the birth-day. 
 
 Lady Harriet scarcely ventured aft 
 opinion — but Lady Lucy was Gaiety, 
 mounted on the very tip-toe of expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 When the young ladies retired for the 
 evening, and had dismissed their wo- 
 man — Lady Lucy, with an arch smile, 
 said, 
 
 " I know what I know, Harriet.'* 
 
 *' Well, my love, and what do you 
 know? That you shall make number- 
 less conquests at St. James's?'' 
 
 " No — but I know how somebody
 
 MOTHER. 269 
 
 blushed, to-night, when somebody came: 
 and I, nozv^ know too why somebody- 
 has been so pensive all the summer — 
 seeking the most private recesses of the 
 Abbey for her contemplations, and re- 
 fusing to play the fool with poor little I/' 
 
 " Are you mad — Lucy?— What can 
 you mean by this nonsense :" — her neck 
 perfectly carnationed. 
 
 " Oh" — continued Lady Lucy, inu 
 rnock heroics — 
 
 " How sweet a torment 'tis to love, 
 
 '' And, ah ! how pleasant is the pain : 
 
 '' I would not, if I could, remoTe, 
 " Or disenchant the magic chain. 
 
 *' Tho' Henry's eyes do give me laws ; 
 
 " And me of liberty beguile ; 
 *' I, like a martyr, love my cause, 
 
 " And on my dear tormentor smile.
 
 270 INFIDEL 
 
 " There, Harriet — there's an impromp- 
 tu for you — a jeu d'esprit — You may- 
 perceive I am too lively to be in love. 
 I can laugh, and sing, and dance, and 
 sleep sound at night — What would you 
 give, Harriet, to say as much?'* 
 
 " Your Ladyship really gives your 
 sister a pretty character. If, indeed, I 
 were in love with a person, who never 
 addressed any language to me, beyond 
 die forms of politeness and good breed- 
 ing, I should betray a forwardness of 
 disposition, which I rather hope is fo- 
 reign from my character.'* 
 
 " True, Harriet, but don't you know 
 words — sovietmes — making nothing in 
 themselves, swell into importance with 
 the help of certain accents — certain pa-
 
 MOTHER. 271 
 
 thos— certain glances — or certain ges- 
 tures. And I am very much mistaken, 
 indeed; if, when you looked so simple, 
 this evening, Henry did not look as 
 foolish to the full" 
 
 " You, certainly, are more than com- 
 monly ridiculous to-night, Lucy; but 
 you madcaps will indulge your joke, 
 even though you lose your friend.'* 
 
 " Well then — seriously — my dear 
 Harriet ; Tou are in love ; and Henry is 
 in love: He is a dear amiable fellow, 
 and you a mistress for a monarch; but 
 you are both so bashful^ I quaere if he 
 will ever have the courage to tell his 
 love; or you the courage to refuse him, 
 when he has made the discovery, not- 
 withstanding your inclination so to do.'*
 
 272 INFIDEL 
 
 " Do you call this being serious — 
 Prithee, Lucy, let us r&tire, and leave 
 this foolery till morning." 
 
 " Let me explain my data, and I will. 
 Now listen to the following fragment. 
 
 TIMID LOVE, 
 u 
 
 And Zulima having 
 
 arrived on the borders of a lake, whose 
 pure, transparent, bosom, scarcely un- 
 dulated j the beauteous maiden paused. 
 to seek repose, 
 
 " Coral and sea-weed grew beneath 
 her footsteps ; the sand was impregnated 
 with sparks of golden ore, that glittered
 
 MOTHER. 273 
 
 in the sun. At a little distance she be. 
 held a citron grove, whose deeply-laden 
 boughs offered to the weary traveller a 
 rich repast. The myrtle — the hyacinth 
 — and the rose — mingled their sweets, 
 filling the air with a delicious perfume. 
 The feathered choir nestled in the aro- 
 matic shrubs; warbling their native me- 
 lody on the enraptured ear.| 
 
 " But soon the eyes of Zullma yielded 
 to superior attraction. A little winged 
 seraph, borne on the surface of the 
 stream, upon a shell of pearl, occupied 
 her sole attention : Two variegated tor- 
 toise were lightly harnessed to his car : 
 and the lovely charioteer, with mingled 
 hope and fear, timidly receded in his 
 slow approach.
 
 274 IWFIDEL 
 
 " The mind of Zulima was pure as i^ 
 the mountain snow that tops the lofty 
 Gefron : Modesty and Innocence were 
 the twin inmates of her heart; and a 
 peaceful serenity reigned within her 
 tranquil bosom. 
 
 " She welcomed the blooming strang- 
 er to the shore; and repaired, with him, 
 to the adjoining bower: her arms of 
 alabaster folded his infantine form; and 
 her ruby lips pressed welcome on his 
 blushing cheek. 
 
 " Delicious poison! Behold the 
 
 youthful Zulima, now, pensively reclin- 
 ed, in yonder deep recess impervious to 
 the cheerful rays of day: the slow and 
 languid motion of her eyes bespeaks a
 
 MOTHER. 275 
 
 mind perturbed: a painful pleasure re- 
 vels in her breast: the lily supersedes 
 the damask rose that blossomed on her 
 cheek: She pines in thought!" 
 
 IND OF VOL. L 
 
 D. N. SHURY; PRINTER, BERWICE STREET, SOHO.
 
 J