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6 files changed, 10 insertions, 8834 deletions

diff --git a/41256.txt b/41256-0.txt
index 089ccdf..295085f 100644
--- a/41256.txt
+++ b/41256-0.txt
@@ -1,36 +1,4 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Emma Courtney, by Mary Hays
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Memoirs of Emma Courtney
-
-Author: Mary Hays
-
-Release Date: November 1, 2012 [EBook #41256]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF EMMA COURTNEY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-
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-
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41256 ***
 
   MEMOIRS OF
   EMMA COURTNEY
@@ -163,7 +131,7 @@ as rank weeks take strong root in a fertile soil, vigorous powers not
 unfrequently produce fatal mistakes and pernicious exertions; that
 character is the produce of a lively and constant affection--may,
 possibly, discover in these Memoirs traces of reflection, and of
-some attention to the phaenomena of the human mind.
+some attention to the phænomena of the human mind.
 
 Whether the incidents, or the characters, are copied from life, is of
 little importance--The only question is, if the _circumstances_, and
@@ -1310,7 +1278,7 @@ It is too true, thought I, and I sighed.
 temper to despond.'
 
 The return of the family terminated this singular conversation.
-The young ladies rallied me, on being found _tete-a-tete_ with the
+The young ladies rallied me, on being found _tête-à-tête_ with the
 philosopher; Mr Montague, I thought looked displeased. I stole out;
 while the party were dressing for dinner, and rambled into the gardens,
 which were extensive, and laid out with taste.
@@ -2559,7 +2527,7 @@ As my patient began to acquire strength, I demanded of him his name
 and family, that I might inform his friends of his situation. On his
 answering 'Harley,' I enquired, smiling--
 
-If he remembered hearing his mother speak of a little _Protege_, Emma
+If he remembered hearing his mother speak of a little _Protegé_, Emma
 Courtney, whom she favoured with her partial friendship?
 
 'Oh, yes!'--and his curiosity had been strongly awakened to procure a
@@ -5713,7 +5681,7 @@ TO THE SAME.
       nature, the human heart--you, who admire, as a proof of
       power, the destructive courage of an Alexander, even the
       fanatic fury of a Ravaillac--you, who honour the pernicious
-      ambition of an Augustus Caesar, as bespeaking the potent,
+      ambition of an Augustus Cæsar, as bespeaking the potent,
       energetic, mind!--why should _you_ affect to be intolerant
       to a passion, though differing in nature, generated on the
       same principles, and by a parallel process. The capacity of
@@ -6812,7 +6780,7 @@ trembled, nor shed a tear--I banished the _woman_ from my heart--I
 acquitted myself with a firmness that would not have disgraced the most
 experienced, and veteran surgeon. My services were materially useful,
 my solicitude vanquished every shrinking sensibility, _affection had
-converted me into a heroine_! The haemorrhage continued, at intervals,
+converted me into a heroine_! The hæmorrhage continued, at intervals,
 all the next day: I passed once or twice from the chamber to the
 nursery, and immediately returned. We called in a consultation, but
 little hope was afforded.
@@ -7667,360 +7635,4 @@ follows original):
 
 End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Emma Courtney, by Mary Hays
 
-*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF EMMA COURTNEY ***
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+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41256 ***
diff --git a/41256-8.txt b/41256-8.txt
deleted file mode 100644
index 41aedb9..0000000
--- a/41256-8.txt
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,8026 +0,0 @@
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Emma Courtney, by Mary Hays
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
-almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
-re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
-with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
-
-
-Title: Memoirs of Emma Courtney
-
-Author: Mary Hays
-
-Release Date: November 1, 2012 [EBook #41256]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF EMMA COURTNEY ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-  MEMOIRS OF
-  EMMA COURTNEY
-
-
-  MARY HAYS
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-
-  Preface xvii
-
-  Volume I           1
-
-  Chapter I          6
-  Chapter II         8
-  Chapter III       11
-  Chapter IV        14
-  Chapter V         16
-  Chapter VI        18
-  Chapter VII       20
-  Chapter VIII      24
-  Chapter IX        26
-  Chapter X         28
-  Chapter XI        31
-  Chapter XII       33
-  Chapter XIII      37
-  Chapter XIV       41
-  Chapter XV        46
-  Chapter XVI       52
-  Chapter XVII      55
-  Chapter XVIII     59
-  Chapter XIX       62
-  Chapter XX        65
-  Chapter XXI       68
-  Chapter XXII      71
-  Chapter XXIII     73
-  Chapter XXIV      76
-  Chapter XXV       79
-  Chapter XXVI      84
-  Chapter XXVII     88
-  Chapter XXVIII    92
-
-
-  Volume II         95
-
-  Chapter I         98
-  Chapter II       102
-  Chapter III      105
-  Chapter IV       109
-  Chapter V        112
-  Chapter VI       118
-  Chapter VII      121
-  Chapter VIII     129
-  Chapter IX       133
-  Chapter X        137
-  Chapter XI       141
-  Chapter XII      144
-  Chapter XIII     151
-  Chapter XIV      154
-  Chapter XV       157
-  Chapter XVI      162
-  Chapter XVII     164
-  Chapter XVIII    167
-  Chapter XIX      171
-  Chapter XX       173
-  Chapter XXI      176
-  Chapter XXII     181
-  Chapter XXIII    184
-  Chapter XXIV     187
-  Chapter XXV      190
-  Chapter XXVI     192
-  Chapter XXVII    196
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE
-
-
-The most interesting, and the most useful, fictions, are, perhaps, such,
-as delineating the progress, and tracing the consequences, of one
-strong, indulged, passion, or prejudice, afford materials, by which the
-philosopher may calculate the powers of the human mind, and learn the
-springs which set it in motion--'Understanding, and talents,' says
-Helvetius, 'being nothing more, in men, than the produce of their
-desires, and particular situations.' Of the passion of terror Mrs
-Radcliffe has made admirable use in her ingenious romances.--In the
-novel of Caleb Williams, curiosity in the hero, and the love of
-reputation in the soul-moving character of Falkland, fostered into
-ruling passions, are drawn with a masterly hand.
-
-For the subject of these Memoirs, a more universal sentiment is chosen--a
-sentiment hackneyed in this species of composition, consequently more
-difficult to treat with any degree of originality;--yet, to accomplish
-this, has been the aim of the author; with what success, the public
-will, probably, determine.
-
-Every writer who advances principles, whether true or false, that have a
-tendency to set the mind in motion, does good. Innumerable mistakes have
-been made, both moral and philosophical:--while covered with a sacred and
-mysterious veil, how are they to be detected? From various combinations
-and multiplied experiments, truth, only, can result. Free thinking, and
-free speaking, are the virtue and the characteristics of a rational
-being:--there can be no argument which mitigates against them in
-one instance, but what equally mitigates against them in all; every
-principle must be doubted, before it will be examined and proved.
-
-It has commonly been the business of fiction to pourtray characters, not
-as they really exist, but, as, we are told, they ought to be--a sort of
-_ideal perfection_, in which nature and passion are melted away, and
-jarring attributes wonderfully combined.
-
-In delineating the character of Emma Courtney, I had not in view these
-fantastic models: I meant to represent her, as a human being, loving
-virtue while enslaved by passion, liable to the mistakes and weaknesses
-of our fragile nature.--Let those readers, who feel inclined to judge
-with severity the extravagance and eccentricity of her conduct, look
-into their own hearts; and should they there find no record, traced by
-an accusing spirit, to soften the asperity of their censures--yet, let
-them bear in mind, that the errors of my heroine were the offspring
-of sensibility; and that the result of her hazardous experiment is
-calculated to operate as a _warning_, rather than as an example.--The
-philosopher--who is not ignorant, that light and shade are more
-powerfully contrasted in minds rising above the common level; that,
-as rank weeks take strong root in a fertile soil, vigorous powers not
-unfrequently produce fatal mistakes and pernicious exertions; that
-character is the produce of a lively and constant affection--may,
-possibly, discover in these Memoirs traces of reflection, and of
-some attention to the phænomena of the human mind.
-
-Whether the incidents, or the characters, are copied from life, is of
-little importance--The only question is, if the _circumstances_, and
-situations, are altogether improbable? If not--whether the consequences
-_might_ not have followed from the circumstances?--This is a grand
-question, applicable to all the purposes of education, morals, and
-legislation--_and on this I rest my moral_--'Do men gather figs of
-thorns, or grapes of thistles?' asked a moralist and a reformer.
-
-Every _possible_ incident, in works of this nature, might, perhaps, be
-rendered _probable_, were a sufficient regard paid to the more minute,
-delicate, and connecting links of the chain. Under this impression, I
-chose, as the least arduous, a simple story--and, even in that, the
-fear of repetition, of prolixity, added, it may be, to a portion of
-indolence, made me, in some parts, neglectful of this rule:--yet, in
-tracing the character of my heroine from her birth, I had it in view.
-For the conduct of my hero, I consider myself less responsible--it was
-not _his_ memoirs that I professed to write.
-
-I am not sanguine respecting the success of this little publication. It
-is truly observed, by the writer of a late popular novel[1]--'That an
-author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an animal whom every
-body is privileged to attack; for, though all are not able to write
-books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. A bad composition
-carries with it its own punishment--contempt and ridicule:--a good one
-excites envy, and (frequently) entails upon its author a thousand
-mortifications.'
-
-      [Footnote 21: The Monk.]
-
-To the feeling and the thinking few, this production of an active
-mind, in a season of impression, rather than of leisure, is presented.
-
-
-
-
-_Memoirs of Emma Courtney_
-
-
-VOLUME 1
-
-
-
-
-TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY
-
-
-Rash young man!--why do you tear from my heart the affecting narrative,
-which I had hoped no cruel necessity would ever have forced me to
-review?--Why do you oblige me to recall the bitterness of my past life,
-and to renew images, the remembrance of which, even at this distant
-period, harrows up my soul with inconceivable misery?--But your happiness
-is at stake, and every selfish consideration vanishes.--Dear and sacred
-deposit of an adored and lost friend!--for whose sake I have consented
-to hold down, with struggling, suffocating reluctance, the loathed
-and bitter portion of existence;--shall I expose your ardent mind to
-the incessant conflict between truth and error--shall I practise the
-disingenuousness, by which my peace has been blasted--shall I suffer
-you to run the wild career of passion--shall I keep back the recital,
-written upon my own mind in characters of blood, which may preserve the
-child of my affections from destruction?
-
-Ah! why have you deceived me?--Has a six months' absence obliterated from
-your remembrance the precept I so earnestly and incessantly laboured to
-inculcate--the value and importance of unequivocal sincerity? A precept,
-which I now take shame to myself for not having more implicitly observed!
-Had I supposed your affection for Joanna more than a boyish partiality;
-had I not believed that a few months' absence would entirely erase it
-from your remembrance; had I not been assured that her heart was devoted
-to another object, a circumstance of which she had herself frankly
-informed you; I should not now have distrusted your fortitude, when
-obliged to wound your feelings with the intelligence--that the woman,
-whom you have so wildly persecuted, was, yesterday, united to another.
-
-
-
-
-TO THE SAME
-
-I resume my pen. Your letter, which Joanna a few days since put into my
-hands, has cost me--Ah! my Augustus, my friend, my son--what has it not
-cost me, and what impressions has it not renewed? I perceive the vigour
-of your mind with terror and exultation. But you are mistaken! Were it
-not for the insuperable barrier that separates you, for ever, from your
-hopes, perseverance itself, however active, however incessant, may fail
-in attaining its object. Your ardent reasoning, my interesting and
-philosophic young friend, though not unconsequential, is a finely
-proportioned structure, resting on an airy foundation. The science of
-morals is not incapable of demonstration, but we want a more extensive
-knowledge of particular facts, on which, in any given circumstance,
-firmly to establish our data.--Yet, be not discouraged; exercise your
-understanding, think freely, investigate every opinion, disdain the rust
-of antiquity, raise systems, invent hypotheses, and, by the absurdities
-they involve, seize on the clue of truth. Rouse the nobler energies of
-your mind; be not the slave of your passions, neither dream of eradicating
-them. Sensation generates interest, interest passion, passion forces
-attention, attention supplies the powers, and affords the means of
-attaining its end: in proportion to the degree of interest, will be that
-of attention and power. Thus are talents produced. Every man is born
-with sensation, with the aptitude of receiving impressions; the force of
-those impressions depends on a thousand circumstances, over which he
-has little power; these circumstances form the mind, and determine the
-future character. We are all the creatures of education; but in that
-education, what we call chance, or accident, has so great a share, that
-the wisest preceptor, after all his cares, has reason to tremble: one
-strong affection, one ardent incitement, will turn, in an instant, the
-whole current of our thoughts, and introduce a new train of ideas and
-associations.
-
-You may perceive that I admit the general truths of your reasoning;
-but I would warn you to be careful in their particular application; a
-long train of patient and laborious experiments must precede our
-deductions and conclusions. The science of mind is not less demonstrative,
-and far more important, than the science of Newton; but we must proceed
-on similar principles. The term _metaphysics_ has been, perhaps, justly
-defined--the first _principles of arts and sciences_.[2] Every discovery
-of genius, resulting from a fortunate combination of circumstances, may
-be resolved into simple facts; but in this investigation we must be
-patient, attentive, indefatigable; we must be content to arrive at truth
-through many painful mistakes and consequent sufferings.--Such appears
-to be the constitution of man!
-
-      [Footnote 2: Helvetius.]
-
-To shorten and meliorate your way, I have determined to sacrifice every
-inferior consideration. I have studied your character: I perceive, with
-joy, that its errors are the ardent excesses of a generous mind. I loved
-your father with a fatal and unutterable tenderness: time has softened
-the remembrance of his faults.--Our noblest qualities, without incessant
-watchfulness, are liable insensibly to shade into vices--but his virtues
-and _misfortunes_, in which my own were so intimately blended, are
-indelibly engraven on my heart.
-
-A mystery has hitherto hung over your birth. The victim of my own ardent
-passions, and the errors of one whose memory will ever be dear to me, I
-prepare to withdraw the veil--a veil, spread by an importunate, but, I
-fear, a mistaken tenderness. Learn, then, from the incidents of my life,
-entangled with those of his to whom you owe your existence, a more
-striking and affecting lesson than abstract philosophy can ever afford.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-The events of my life have been few, and have in them nothing very
-uncommon, but the effects which they have produced on my mind; yet, that
-mind they have helped to form, and this in the eye of philosophy, or
-affection, may render them not wholly uninteresting. While I trace them,
-they convince me of the irresistible power of circumstances, modifying
-and controuling our characters, and introducing, mechanically, those
-associations and habits which make us what we are; for without outward
-impressions we should be nothing.
-
-I know not how far to go back, nor where to begin; for in many cases,
-it may be in all, a foundation is laid for the operations of our minds,
-years--nay, ages--previous to our birth. I wish to be brief, yet to omit
-no one connecting link in the chain of causes, however minute, that I
-conceive had any important consequences in the formation of my mind, or
-that may, probably, be useful to your's.
-
-My father was a man of some talents, and of a superior rank in life, but
-dissipated, extravagant, and profligate. My mother, the daughter of a
-rich trader, and the sole heiress of his fortunes, allured by the
-specious address and fashionable manners of my father, sacrificed to
-empty shew the prospect of rational and dignified happiness. My father
-courted her hand to make himself master of her ample possessions:
-dazzled by vanity, and misled by self-love, she married him;--found,
-when too late, her error; bitterly repented, and died in child bed the
-twelfth month of her marriage, after having given birth to a daughter,
-and commended it, with her dying breath, to the care of a sister (the
-daughter of her mother by a former marriage), an amiable, sensible, and
-worthy woman, who had, a few days before, lost a lovely and promising
-infant at the breast, and received the little Emma as a gift from
-heaven, to supply its place.
-
-My father, plunged in expence and debauchery, was little moved by these
-domestic distresses. He held the infant a moment in his arms, kissed it,
-and willingly consigned it to the guardianship of its maternal aunt.
-
-It will here be necessary to give a sketch of the character, situation,
-and family, of this excellent woman; each of which had an important
-share in forming the mind of her charge to those dispositions, and
-feelings, which irresistibly led to the subsequent events.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-Mr and Mrs Melmoth, my uncle and aunt, married young, purely from
-motives of affection. Mr Melmoth had an active, ardent mind, great
-benevolence of heart, a sweet and chearful temper, and a liberal manner
-of thinking, though with few advantages of education: he possessed,
-also, a sanguine disposition, a warm heart, a generous spirit, and an
-integrity which was never called in question. Mrs Melmoth's frame
-was delicate and fragile; she had great sensibility, quickness of
-perception, some anxiety of temper, and a refined and romantic manner
-of thinking, acquired from the perusal of the old romances, a large
-quantity of which, belonging to a relation, had, in the early periods of
-her youth, been accidentally deposited in a spare room in her father's
-house. These qualities were mingled with a devotional spirit, a little
-bordering on fanatacism. My uncle did not exactly resemble an Orlando,
-or an Oroondates, but he was fond of reading; and having the command of
-a ship in the West India trade, had, during his voyages in fine weather,
-time to indulge in this propensity; by which means he was a tolerable
-proficient in the belles lettres, and could, on occasion, quote
-Shakespeare, scribble poetry, and even philosophize with Pope and
-Bolingbroke.
-
-Mr Melmoth was one-and-twenty, his bride nineteen, when they were
-united. They possessed little property; but the one was enterprizing and
-industrious, the other careful and oeconomical; and both, with hearts
-glowing with affection for each other, saw cheering hope and fairy
-prospects dancing before their eyes. Every thing succeeded beyond their
-most sanguine expectations. My uncle's cheerful and social temper, with
-the fairness and liberality of his dealings, conciliated the favour of
-the merchants. His understanding was superior, and his manners more
-courteous, than the generality of persons in his line of life: his
-company was eagerly courted, and no vessel stood a chance of being
-freighted till his had its full cargo.
-
-His voyages were not long, and frequent absences and meetings kept alive
-between him and my aunt, the hopes, the fears, the anxieties, and the
-transports of love. Their family soon increased, but this was a new
-source of joy to Mr Melmoth's affectionate heart. A walk or a ride in
-the country, with his wife and little ones, he accounted his highest
-relaxation:--on these occasions he gave himself up to a sweet and lively
-pleasure; would clasp them alternately to his breast, and with eyes
-overflowing with tears of delight, repeat Thomson's charming description
-of the joys of virtuous love--
-
-  'Where nothing strikes the eye but sights of bliss,
-   All various nature pressing on the heart!'
-
-This was the first picture that struck my young imagination, for I was,
-in all respects, considered as the adopted child of the family.
-
-This prosperity received little other interruption than from my uncle's
-frequent absences, and the pains and cares of my aunt in bringing into
-the world, and nursing, a family of children. Mr Melmoth's successful
-voyages, at rather earlier than forty years of age, enabled him to leave
-the sea, and to carry on an extensive mercantile employment in the
-metropolis.--At this period his health began to be injured by the
-progress of a threatening internal disorder; but it had little effect
-either on his spirits or activity. His business every day became wider,
-and his attention to it was unremitted, methodical, and indefatigable.
-His hours of relaxation were devoted to his family and social enjoyment;
-at these times he never suffered the cares of the counting-house to
-intrude;--he was the life of every company, and the soul of every
-pleasure.
-
-He at length assumed a more expensive style of living; took a house in
-the country (for the charms of which he had ever a peculiar taste) as
-a summer residence; set up an equipage, increased the number of his
-servants, and kept an open and hospitable, though not a luxurious,
-table.
-
-The hours fled on downy pinions; his wife rested on him, his children
-caught sunshine from his smiles; his domestics adored him, and his
-acquaintance vied with each other in paying him respect. His life,
-he frequently repeated, had been a series of unbroken success. His
-religion, for he laid no stress on forms, was a sentiment of grateful
-and fervent love.--'_God is love_,' he would say, 'and the affectionate,
-benevolent heart is his temple.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-It will now be necessary, for the development of my own particular
-character, again to revert to earlier periods.--A few days before my
-birth, my aunt had lost (as already related) a lovely female infant,
-about four months old, and she received me, from the hands of my dying
-mother, as a substitute.--From these tender and affecting circumstances
-I was nursed and attended with peculiar care. My uncle's ship (it being
-war time) was then waiting for a convoy at Portsmouth, where he was
-joined by his wife: she carried me with her, and, tenderly watchful over
-my safety, took me on all their little excursions, whether by sea or
-land: I hung at her breast, or rested in her arms, and her husband, or
-attendant, alternately relieved her.--Plump, smiling, placid, happy, I
-never disturbed her rest, and the little Emma was the darling of her
-kind guardians, and the plaything of the company.
-
-At the age at which it was thought necessary to wean me, I was sent
-from my tender nurse for that purpose, and consigned to the care of a
-stranger, with whom I quickly pined myself into a jaundice and bilious
-fever. My aunt dare not visit me during this short separation, she was
-unable to bear my piercing cries of anguish at her departure. If a
-momentary sensation, at that infantine period, deserve the appellation,
-I might call this my first affectionate sorrow. I have frequently
-thought that the tenderness of this worthy woman generated in my infant
-disposition that susceptibility, that lively propensity to attachment,
-to which I have through life been a martyr. On my return to my friends,
-I quickly regained my health and spirits; was active, blythsome, ran,
-bounded, sported, romped; always light, gay, alert, and full of glee.
-At church, (whither on Sunday I was accustomed to accompany the family)
-I offended all the pious ladies in our vicinity by my gamesome tricks,
-and avoided the reprimands of my indulgent guardians by the drollery and
-good humour which accompanied them.
-
-When myself and my little cousins had wearied ourselves with play, their
-mother, to keep us quiet in an evening, while her husband wrote letters in
-an adjoining apartment, was accustomed to relate (for our entertainment)
-stories from the Arabian Nights, Turkish Tales, and other works of
-like marvellous import. She recited them circumstantially, and these I
-listened to with ever new delight: the more they excited vivid emotions,
-the more wonderful they were, the greater was my transport: they became
-my favourite amusement, and produced, in my young mind, a strong desire
-of learning to read the books which contained such enchanting stores of
-entertainment.
-
-Thus stimulated, I learned to read quickly, and with facility. My uncle
-took pleasure in assisting me; and, with parental partiality, thought
-he discovered, in the ardour and promptitude with which I received his
-instructions, the dawn of future talents. At six years old I read aloud
-before company, with great applause, my uncle's favourite authors, Pope's
-Homer, and Thomson's Seasons, little comprehending either. Emulation was
-roused, and vanity fostered: I learned to recite verses, to modulate my
-tones of voice, and began to think myself a wonderful scholar.
-
-Thus, in peace and gaiety, glided the days of my childhood. Caressed
-by my aunt, flattered by her husband, I grew vain and self-willed; my
-desires were impetuous, and brooked no delay; my affections were warm,
-and my temper irascible; but it was the glow of a moment, instantly
-subsiding on conviction, and when conscious of having committed
-injustice, I was ever eager to repair it, by a profusion of caresses and
-acknowledgements. Opposition would always make me vehement, and coercion
-irritated me to violence; but a kind look, a gentle word, a cool
-expostulation--softened, melted, arrested, me, in the full career of
-passion. Never, but once, do I recollect having received a blow; but the
-boiling rage, the cruel tempest, the deadly vengeance it excited, in my
-mind, I now remember with shuddering.
-
-Every day I became more attached to my books; yet, not less fond of
-active play; stories were still my passion, and I sighed for a romance
-that would never end. In my sports with my companions, I acted over what
-I had read: I was alternately the valiant knight--the gentle damsel--the
-adventurous mariner--the daring robber--the courteous lover--and the
-airy coquet. Ever inventive, my young friends took their tone from me.
-I hated the needle:--my aunt was indulgent, and not an hour passed
-unamused:--my resources were various, fantastic, and endless. Thus, for
-the first twelve years of my life, fleeted my days in joy and innocence.
-I ran like the hind, frisked like the kid, sang like the lark, was full
-of vivacity, health, and animation; and, excepting some momentary bursts
-of passion and impatience, awoke every day to new enjoyment, and retired
-to rest fatigued with pleasure.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-At this period, by the command of my father, I was sent to boarding
-school.--Ah! never shall I forget the contrast I experienced. I was an
-alien and a stranger;--no one loved, caressed, nor cared for me;--my
-actions were all constrained;--I was obliged to sit poring over needle
-work, and forbidden to prate;--my body was tortured into forms, my mind
-coerced, and talks imposed upon me, grammar and French, mere words, that
-conveyed to me no ideas. I loved my guardians with passion--my tastes
-were all passions--they tore themselves from my embraces with difficulty.
-I sat down, after their departure, and wept--bitter tears--sobbed
-convulsively--my griefs were unheeded, and my sensibility ridiculed--I
-neither gave nor received pleasure. After the rude stare of curiosity,
-ever wounding to my feelings, was gratified, I was left to sob alone.
-
-At length, one young lady, with a fair face and a gentle demeanour,
-came and seated herself beside me. She spoke, in a soft voice, words of
-sympathy--my desolate heart fluttered at the sound. I looked at her--her
-features were mild and sweet; I dried my tears, and determined that she
-should be my friend.--My spirits became calmer, and for a short time I
-indulged in this relief; but, on enquiry, I found my fair companion had
-already a selected favourite, and that their amity was the admiration
-of the school.--Proud, jealous, romantic--I could not submit to be the
-second in her esteem--I shunned her, and returned her caresses with
-coldness.
-
-The only mitigation I now felt to the anguish that had seized my
-spirits, was in the hours of business. I was soon distinguished for
-attention and capacity; but my governness being with-held, by an infirm
-constitution, from the duties of her office, I was consigned, with my
-companions, to ignorant, splenetic, teachers, who encouraged not my
-emulation, and who sported with the acuteness of my sensations. In the
-intervals from school hours I fought and procured books.--These were
-often wantonly taken from me, as a punishment for the most trivial
-offence; and, when my indignant spirit broke out into murmurs and
-remonstrance, I was constrained to learn, by way of penance, chapters in
-the Proverbs of Solomon, or verses from the French testament. To revenge
-myself, I satirized my tyrants in doggrel rhymes: my writing master also
-came in for a share of this little malice; and my productions, wretched
-enough, were handed round the school with infinite applause. Sunk in
-sullen melancholy, in the hours of play I crept into corners, and
-disdained to be amused;--home appeared to me to be the Eden from which
-I was driven, and there my heart and thoughts incessantly recurred.
-
-My uncle from time to time addressed to me--with little presents--kind,
-pleasant, affectionate notes--and these I treasured up as sacred relics.
-A visit of my guardians was a yet more tumultuous pleasure; but it
-always left me in increased anguish. Some robberies had been committed
-on the road to town.--After parting with my friends, I have laid awake
-the whole night, conjuring up in my imagination all the tragic accidents
-I had ever heard or read of, and persuading myself some of them must
-have happened to these darling objects of my affection.
-
-Thus passed the first twelvemonth of my exile from all I loved; during
-which time it was reported, by my school-fellows, that I had never been
-seen to smile. After the vacations, I was carried back to my prison with
-agonizing reluctance, to which in the second year I became, however,
-from habit, better reconciled. I learned music, was praised and encouraged
-by my master, and grew fond of it; I contracted friendships, and
-regained my vivacity; from a forlorn, unsocial, being, I became, once
-more, lively, active, enterprising,--the soul of all amusement, and the
-leader of every innocently mischievous frolic. At the close of another
-year I left school. I kept up a correspondence for some time with a few
-of my young friends, and my effusions were improved and polished by my
-paternal uncle.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-This period, which I had anticipated with rapture, was soon clouded by
-the gradual decay, and premature death, of my revered and excellent
-guardian. He sustained a painful and tedious sickness with unshaken
-fortitude;--with more, with chearfulness. I knelt by his bedside on the
-day of his decease; and, while I bathed his hand with my tears, caught
-hope from the sweet, the placid, serenity of his countenance, and could
-not believe the terrors of dissolution near.
-
-'The last sentiment of my heart,' said he, 'is gratitude to the Being
-who has given me so large a portion of good; and I resign my family into
-his hands with confidence.'
-
-He awoke from a short slumber, a few minutes before his death.--'Emma,'
-said he, in a faint voice, (as I grasped his cold hand between both
-mine) turning upon me a mild, yet dying, eye, 'I have had a pleasant
-sleep--Be a good girl, and comfort your aunt!'--
-
-He expired without a groan, or a struggle--'His death was the serene
-evening of a beautiful day!' I gazed on his lifeless remains, the day
-before their interment, and the features still wore the same placid,
-smiling benignity. I was then about fourteen years of age,--this first
-emotion of real sorrow rent my heart asunder!
-
-The sensations of Mrs Melmoth were those of agonizing, suffocating
-anguish:--the fair prospect of domestic felicity was veiled for ever!
-This was the second strong impression which struck my opening mind.
-Many losses occurred, in consequence of foreign connections, in the
-settlement of Mr Melmoth's affairs.--The family found their fortunes
-scanty, and their expectations limited:--their numerous fair-professing
-acquaintance gradually deserted them, and they sunk into oeconomical
-retirement; but they continued to be respectable, because they knew how
-to contract their wants, and to preserve their independence.
-
-My aunt, oppressed with sorrow, could be roused only by settling the
-necessary plans for the future provision of her family. Occupied with
-these concerns, or absorbed in grief, we were left for some time to run
-wild. Months revolved ere the tender sorrows of Mrs Melmoth admitted of
-any mitigation: they at length yielded only to tender melancholy. My
-wonted amusements were no more; a deep gloom was spread over our
-once cheerful residence; my avidity for books daily increased; I
-subscribed to a circulating library, and frequently read, or rather
-devoured--little careful in the selection--from ten to fourteen novels
-in a week.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-My father satisfied himself, after the death of my beloved uncle,
-with making a short and formal visit of condolence to the family, and
-proposing either my return to school, or to pay an annual stipend (which
-Mr and Mrs Melmoth had hitherto invariably refused) for defraying the
-expences of my continuance and board with the amiable family by which I
-had been so kindly nurtured. I shrunk from the cold and careless air
-of a man whom I had never been able to teach my heart either to love
-or honour; and throwing my arms round the neck of my maternal aunt,
-murmured a supplication, mingled with convulsive sobs, that she would
-not desert me. She returned my caresses affectionately, and entreated
-my father to permit me to remain with her; adding, that it was her
-determination to endeavour to rouse and strengthen her mind, for the
-performance of those pressing duties--the education of her beloved
-children, among whom she had ever accounted her Emma--which now devolved
-wholly upon her.
-
-My father made no objection to this request; but observed, that
-notwithstanding he had a very favourable opinion of her heart and
-understanding, and considered himself indebted to her, and to her
-deceased husband, for their goodness to Emma, he was nevertheless
-apprehensive that the girl had been weakened and spoiled by their
-indulgence;--that his own health was at present considerably
-injured;--that it was probable he might not survive many years;--in
-which case, he frankly confessed, he had enjoyed life too freely to be
-able to make much provision for his daughter. It would therefore, he
-conceived, be more judicious to prepare and strengthen my mind to
-encounter, with fortitude, some hardships and rude shocks, to which
-I might be exposed, than to foster a sensibility, which he already
-perceived, with regret, was but too acute. For which purpose, he desired
-I might spend one day in every week at his house in Berkley-square, when
-he should put such books into my hands [he had been informed I had a
-tolerable capacity] as he judged would be useful to me; and, in the
-intervals of his various occupations and amusements, assist me himself
-with occasional remarks and reflections. Any little accomplishments
-which Mrs Melmoth might judge necessary for, and suitable to, a young
-woman with a small fortune, and which required the assistance of a
-master, he would be obliged to her if she would procure for me, and call
-upon him to defray the additional expence.
-
-He then, looking on his watch, and declaring he had already missed an
-appointment, took his leave, after naming Monday as the day on which he
-should constantly expect my attendance in Berkley-square.
-
-Till he left the room I had not courage to raise my eyes from the
-ground--my feelings were harrowed up--the tone of his voice was
-discordant to my ears. The only idea that alleviated the horror of my
-weekly punishment (for so I considered the visits to Berkley-square)
-was the hope of reading new books, and of being suffered to range
-uncountroled through an extensive and valuable library, for such I
-had been assured was Mr Courtney's. I still retained my passion for
-adventurous tales, which, even while at school, I was enabled to gratify
-by means of one of the day-boarders, who procured for me romances from a
-neighbouring library, which at every interval of leisure I perused with
-inconceivable avidity.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-The following Monday I prepared to attend Mr Courtney. On arriving at
-his house, and announcing my name, a servant conducted me into his
-master's dressing-room. I appeared before him with trembling steps,
-downcast eyes, and an averted face.
-
-'Look up, child!' said my father, in an imperious tone. 'If you are
-conscious of no crime, why all this ridiculous confusion?'
-
-I struggled with my feelings: the tone and manner in which I was
-addressed gave me an indignant sensation:--a deeper suffusion than that
-of modesty, the glow of wounded pride, burnt in my cheeks:--I turned
-quick, gazed in the face of Mr Courtney with a steady eye, and spoke a
-few words, in a firm voice, importing--that I attended by his desire,
-and waited his direction.
-
-He regarded me with somewhat less _hauteur_, and, while he finished
-dressing, interrogated me respecting the books I had read, and the
-impression they had left on my mind. I replied with simplicity, and
-without evasion. He soon discovered that my imagination had been left
-to wander unrestrained in the fairy fields of fiction; but that, of
-historical facts, and the science of the world, I was entirely ignorant.
-
-'It is as I apprehended,' said he:--'your fancy requires a _rein_ rather
-than a _spur_. Your studies, for the future, must be of a soberer
-nature, or I shall have you mistake my valet for a prince in disguise,
-my house for a haunted castle, and my rational care for your future
-welfare for barbarous tyranny.'
-
-I felt a poignant and suffocating sensation, too complicated to bear
-analyzing, and followed Mr Courtney in silence to the library. My heart
-bounded when, on entering a spacious room, I perceived on either side
-a large and elegant assortment of books, regularly arranged in glass
-cases, and I longed to be left alone, to expatiate freely in these
-treasures of entertainment. But I soon discovered, to my inexpressible
-mortification, that the cases were locked, and that in this intellectual
-feast I was not to be my own purveyor. My father, after putting into
-my hands the lives of Plutarch, left me to my meditations; informing
-me, that he should probably dine at home with a few friends, at five
-o'clock, when he should expect my attendance at the table.
-
-I opened my book languidly, after having examined through the glass
-doors the titles of those which were with-held from me. I felt a kind
-of disgust to what I considered as a task imposed, and read a few
-pages carelessly, gazing at intervals through the windows into the
-square.--But my attention, as I proceeded, was soon forcibly arrested,
-my curiosity excited, and my enthusiasm awakened. The hours passed
-rapidly--I perceived not their flight--and at five o'clock, when
-summoned to dinner, I went down into the dining-room, my mind pervaded
-with republican ardour, my sentiments elevated by a high-toned
-philosophy, and my bosom glowing with the virtues of patriotism.
-
-I found with Mr Courtney company of both sexes, to whom he presented me
-on my entrance. Their easy compliments disconcerted me, and I shrunk,
-abashed, from the bold and curious eyes of the gentlemen. During the
-repast I ate little, but listened in silence to every thing that passed.
-
-The theatres were the first topic of conversation, Venice Preserved had
-been acted the preceding evening, and from discussing the play, the
-conversation took a political turn. A gentleman that happened to be
-seated next me, who spoke fluently, looking around him every moment for
-approbation, with apparent self-applause, gave the discourse a tone of
-gallantry, declaring--'Pierre to be a noble fellow, and that the loss
-of a mistress was a sufficient excuse for treason and conspiracy,
-even though the country had been deluged in blood and involved in
-conflagration.'
-
-'And the mistresses of all his fellow citizens destroyed of course;'--said
-a gentleman coolly, on the opposite side of the table.
-
-Oh! that was not a consideration, every thing must give place when put
-in competition with certain feelings. 'What, young lady,' (suddenly
-turning to me) 'do you think a lover would not risque, who was in fear
-of losing you?'
-
-Good God! what a question to an admirer of the grecian heroes! I
-started, and absolutely shuddered. I would have replied, but my words
-died away upon my lips in inarticulate murmurs. My father observed and
-enjoyed my distress.
-
-'The worthies of whom you have been reading, Emma, lived in ancient
-times. Aristides the just, would have made but a poor figure among our
-modern men of fashion!'
-
-'This lady reads, then,'--said our accomplished coxcomb--'Heavens,
-Mr Courtney! you will spoil all her feminine graces; knowledge and
-learning, are unsufferably masculine in a woman--born only for the soft
-solace of man! The mind of a young lady should be clear and unsullied,
-like a sheet of white paper, or her own fairer face: lines of thinking
-destroy the dimples of beauty; aping the reason of man, they lose
-the exquisite, _fascinating_ charm, in which consists their true
-empire;--Then strongest, when most weak--
-
-                  "Loveliest in their fears--
-  And by this silent adulation, soft,
-  To their protection more engaging man."
-
-'Pshaw!' replied Mr Courtney, a little peevishly--'you will persuade
-Emma, that the age of chivalry is not yet over; and that giants and
-ravishers are as common now, as in the time of Charlemagne: a young
-woman of sense and spirit needs no other protection; do not flatter the
-girl into affectation and imbecility. If blank paper be your passion,
-you can be at no loss; the town will supply quires and reams.'
-
-'There I differ from you,' said the gentleman on the opposite side of
-the table; 'to preserve the mind a blank, we must be both deaf and
-blind, for, while any inlet to perception remains, your paper will
-infallibly contract characters of some kind, or be blotted and
-scrawled!'
-
-'For God's sake! do not let us begin to philosophise,' retorted his
-antagonist, who was not to be easily silenced.
-
-'I agree with you,'--rejoined the other--'_thinking_ is undoubtedly
-very laborious, and _principle_ equally troublesome and impertinent.'
-
-I looked at him as he finished speaking, and caught his eye for a
-moment; its expression methought was doubtful. The man of fashion
-continued to expatiate in rhetorical periods--He informed us, that he
-had fine feelings, but they never extended beyond selfish gratification.
-For his part, he had as much humanity as any man, for which reason he
-carefully avoided the scene or the tale of distress. He, likewise, had
-his opinions, but their pliability rendered them convenient to himself,
-and accommodating to his friends. He had courage to sustain fatigue and
-hardship, when, not his country, but vanity demanded the exertion. It
-was glorious to boast of having travelled two hundred miles in eight and
-forty hours, and sat up three nights, to be present, on two succeeding
-evenings, at a ball in distant counties.
-
-'This man,' I said to myself, while I regarded him with a look of
-ineffable scorn--'takes a great deal of pains to render himself
-ridiculous, he surely must have a vile heart, or a contemptible opinion
-of mankind: if he be really the character he describes, he is a compound
-of atrocity and folly, and a pest to the world; if he slanders himself,
-what must be that state of society, the applause of which he persuades
-himself is to be thus acquired?' I sighed deeply;--in either case the
-reflection was melancholy;--my eyes enquired--'Am I to hate or to
-despise you?' I know not whether he understood their language, but he
-troubled me no more with his attentions.
-
-I reflected a little too seriously:--I have since seen many a prating,
-superficial coxcomb, who talks to display his oratory--_mere words_
---repeated by rote, to which few ideas are affixed, and which are
-uttered and received with equal apathy.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-During three years, I continued my weekly visits to Berkley square; I
-was not always allowed to join the parties who assembled there, neither
-indeed would it have been proper, for they were a motley groupe; when
-permitted so to do, I collected materials for reflection. I had been
-educated by my aunt, in strict principles of religion; many of Mr
-Courtney's friends were men of wit and talents, who, occasionally,
-discussed important subjects with freedom and ability: I never ventured
-to mingle in the conversations, but I overcame my timidity sufficiently
-to behave with propriety and composure; I listened attentively to all
-that was said, and my curiosity was awakened to philosophic enquiries.
-
-Mr Courtney now entrusted me with the keys of the bookcases, through
-which I ranged with ever new delight. I went through, by my father's
-direction, a course of historical reading, but I could never acquire a
-taste for this species of composition. Accounts of the early periods of
-states and empires, of the Grecian and Roman republics, I pursued with
-pleasure and enthusiasm: but when they became more complicated, grew
-corrupt, luxurious, licentious, perfidious, mercenary, I turned from
-them fatigued, and disgusted, and sought to recreate my spirits in the
-fairer regions of poetry and fiction.
-
-My early associations rendered theology an interesting subject to me; I
-read ecclesiastical history, a detail of errors and crimes, and entered
-deeply into polemic divinity: my mind began to be emancipated, doubts
-had been suggested to it, I reasoned freely, endeavoured to arrange and
-methodize my opinions, and to trace them fearlessly through all their
-consequences: while from exercising my thoughts with freedom, I seemed
-to acquire new strength and dignity of character. I met with some of the
-writings of Descartes, and was seized with a passion for metaphysical
-enquiries. I began to think about the nature of the soul--whether it
-was a composition of the elements, the result of organized matter, or
-a subtle and etherial fire.
-
-In the course of my researches, the Heloise of Rousseau fell into my
-hands.--Ah! with what transport, with what enthusiasm, did I peruse this
-dangerous, enchanting, work!--How shall I paint the sensations that were
-excited in my mind!--the pleasure I experienced approaches the limits of
-pain--it was tumult--all the ardour of my character was excited.--Mr
-Courtney, one day, surprised me weeping over the sorrows of the tender
-St Preux. He hastily snatched the book from my hand, and, carefully
-collecting the remaining volumes, carried them in silence to his chamber:
-but the impression made on my mind was never to be effaced--it was even
-productive of a long chain of consequences, that will continue to
-operate till the day of my death.
-
-My time at this period passed rapidly and pleasantly. My father never
-treated me with affection; but the austerity of his manner gradually
-subsided. He gave me, occasionally, useful hints and instructions.
-Without feeling for him any tenderness, he inspired me with a degree of
-respect. The library was a source of lively and inexhaustible pleasure
-to my mind; and, when admitted to the table of Mr Courtney, some new
-character or sentiment frequently sharpened my attention, and afforded
-me subjects for future enquiry and meditation. I delighted to expatiate,
-when returning to the kind and hospitable mansion of my beloved aunt,
-(which I still considered as my home) on the various topics which I had
-collected in my little emigrations. I was listened to by my cousins with
-a pleasure that flattered my vanity, and looked up to as a kind of
-superior being;--a homage particularly gratifying to a young mind.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-The excellent woman, who had been my more than mother, took infinite
-pains to cure the foibles, which, like pernicious weeds, entangled
-themselves with, and sometimes threatened to choak, the embryo blossoms
-of my expanding mind. Ah! with what pleasure do I recall her beloved
-idea to my memory! Fostered by her maternal love, and guided by her mild
-reason, how placid, and how sweet, were my early days!--Why, my first,
-my tenderest friend, did I lose you at that critical period of life,
-when the harmless sports and occupations of childhood gave place to the
-pursuits, the passions and the errors of youth?--With the eloquence of
-affection, with gentle, yet impressive persuasion, thou mightest have
-checked the wild career of energetic feeling, which thou hast so often
-remarked with hope and terror.
-
-As I entered my eighteenth year, I lost, by a premature death, this
-tender monitor. Never shall I forget her last emphatic, affectionate,
-caution.
-
-'Beware, my dear Emma,' said this revered friend, 'beware of
-strengthening, by indulgence, those ardent and impetuous sensations,
-which, while they promise vigour of mind, fill me with apprehension
-for the virtue, for the happiness of my child. I wish not that the
-canker-worm, Distrust, should blast the fair fruit of your ripening
-virtues. The world contains many benevolent, many disinterested,
-spirits; but civilization is yet distempered and imperfect; the
-inequalities of society, by fostering artificial wants, and provoking
-jealous competitions, have generated selfish and hostile passions.
-Nature has been vainly provident for her offspring, while man, with
-mistaken avidity, grasping more than he has powers to enjoy, preys on
-his fellow man:--departing from simple virtues, and simple pleasures,
-in their stead, by common consent, has a wretched semblance been
-substituted. Endeavour to contract your wants, and aspire only to
-a rational independence; by exercising your faculties, still the
-importunate suggestions of your sensibility; preserve your sincerity,
-cherish the ingenuous warmth of unsophisticated feeling, but let
-discernment precede confidence. I tremble even for the excess of those
-virtues which I have laboured to cultivate in your lively and docile
-mind. If I could form a wish for longer life, it is only for my children,
-and that I might be to my Emma instead of reason, till her own stronger
-mind matures. I dread, lest the illusions of imagination should
-render those powers, which would give force to truth and virtue, the
-auxiliaries of passion. Learn to distinguish, with accuracy, the good
-and ill qualities of those with whom you may mingle: while you abhor the
-latter, separate the being from his errors; and while you revere the
-former, the moment that your reverence becomes personal, that moment,
-suspect that your judgment is in danger of becoming the dupe of your
-affections.'
-
-Would to God that I had impressed upon my mind--that I had recalled to
-my remembrance more frequently--a lesson so important to a disposition
-like mine!--a continual victim to the enthusiasm of my feelings;
-incapable of approving, or disapproving, with moderation--the most
-poignant sufferings, even the study of mankind, have been insufficient
-to dissolve the powerful enchantment, to disentangle the close-twisted
-associations!--But I check this train of overwhelming reflection, that
-is every moment on the point of breaking the thread of my narration, and
-obtruding itself to my pen.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-Mr Courtney did not long survive the guardian of my infancy:--his
-constitution had for some years been gradually impaired; and his death
-was hastened by a continuance of habitual dissipation, which he had not
-the resolution to relinquish, and to which his strength was no longer
-equal. It was an event I had long anticipated, and which I contemplated
-with a sensation of solemnity, rather than of grief. The ties of blood
-are weak, if not the mere chimeras of prejudice, unless sanctioned by
-reason, or cemented by habits of familiar and affectionate intercourse.
-Mr Courtney refusing the title of father, from a conviction that his
-conduct gave him no claim to this endearing appellation, had accustomed
-me to feel for him only the respect due to some talents and good
-qualities, which threw a veil over his faults. Courage and truth were
-the principles with which he endeavoured to inspire me;--precepts, which
-I gratefully acknowledge, and which forbid me to adopt the language of
-affection, when no responsive sympathies exist in the heart.
-
-My eyes were yet moist with the tears that I had shed for the loss of my
-maternal friend, when I received a hasty summons to Berkley-square. A
-servant informed me, that his master was, at length, given over by his
-physicians, and wished to speak to Miss Courtney, before his strength
-and spirits were too much exhausted.
-
-I neither felt, nor affected, surprize at this intelligence, but threw
-myself, without reply, into the carriage which had been dispatched for
-my conveyance.
-
-On entering the house, a gloomy silence seemed to reign throughout the
-late festive apartments; but, as I had seldom been a partaker of the
-festivity, the contrast struck me less forcibly than it might otherwise
-have done. My name was announced, and I was conducted, by the housekeeper,
-to the chamber of her dying master, who, supported on pillows, breathed
-with difficulty, but appeared to be free from pain, and tolerably
-composed. I met the physician in the ante-chamber; who, on my requesting
-earnestly to know the situation of his patient, informed me--That an
-internal mortification had taken place, and that he could not survive
-many hours.
-
-Approaching the bed, considerably shocked at the intelligence I had
-received, Mr Courtney, in a low and faint voice, desired me to draw a
-chair near him. I obeyed in silence.
-
-'Emma,' said he, 'I am about to quit a world, in which I have
-experienced little sincere enjoyment; yet, I leave it reluctantly. Had I
-been more temperate in my pleasures, perhaps, they might have been less
-destructive, and more protracted. I begin to suspect, that I have made
-some great mistakes; but it is now too late for retraction, and I will
-not, in my last moments, contradict, by my example, the lesson of
-fortitude, with which it has been a part of my plan to inspire you.
-You have now, unprotected, the world to encounter; for, I will frankly
-confess, that my affection for you has not been strong enough to induce
-me to forego my own more immediate gratification: but I have never
-deceived you. Your mother, when she married, reserved for her private
-expences a thousand pounds, which, on her deathbed, she desired might
-be invested in the funds on your account. This request I religiously
-complied with, and there it has remained untouched; and, being purchased
-in your name, you may claim it whenever you please. I have appointed
-you no guardians; for, already in your nineteenth year and possessing
-an understanding superior to your sex and age, I chose to leave you
-unfettered, and at your own discretion. I spared from my pleasures what
-money was requisite to complete your education; for having no fortune to
-give you, and my health being precarious, I thought it just to afford
-you every advantage for the improvement of those talents which you
-evidently possess, and which must now enable you to make your way in the
-world; for the scanty pittance, that the interest of your fortune will
-produce, is, I doubt, insufficient for your support. Had I lived, it was
-my intention to have established you by marriage; but that is a scheme,
-to which, at present, I would not advise you to trust. Marriage,
-generally speaking, in the existing state of things, must of necessity
-be an affair of _finance_. My interest and introduction might have
-availed you something; but mere merit, wit, or beauty, stand in need of
-more powerful auxiliaries. My brother, Mr Morton[3], called on me this
-morning:--he has agreed, for the present, to receive you into his
-family, where you must endeavour to make yourself useful and agreeable,
-till you can fix on a better and more independent plan. Finding me in so
-low a state, your uncle would have waited a few days in town, to have
-seen the result, and in case of the worst, to have taken you down with
-him, but pressing business urged his departure. I would advise you,
-immediately after my decease, to set out for Morton Park. Proper persons
-are appointed to settle my affairs:--when every thing is turned into
-money, there will, I trust, be sufficient to discharge my just debts;
-but do not flatter yourself with the expectation of a surplus. Your
-presence here, when I am no more, will be equally unnecessary and
-improper.'
-
-      [Footnote 3: Mr Courtney's brother had taken the name of
-      Morton, to qualify himself for the inheritance of an estate,
-      bequeathed to him by a distant relation.]
-
-This was said at intervals, and with difficulty; when, seeming quite
-exhausted, he waved his hand for me to leave the room, and sunk into a
-sort of dose, or rather stupor, which continued till within some minutes
-of his decease.
-
-Mr Courtney had been, what is called, a man of pleasure:--he had passed
-thro' life without ever loving any one but himself--intent, merely,
-on gratifying the humour of the moment. A superior education, and
-an attentive observance, not of rational, but, of social man, in an
-extensive commerce with the world, had sharpened his sagacity; but he
-was inaccessible to those kindlings of the affections--those glowings of
-admiration--inspired by real, or fancied, excellence, which never fail
-to expand and advance the minds of such as are capable of sketching,
-with a daring hand, the dangerous picture:--or of those philosophic and
-comprehensive views, which teach us to seek a reflected happiness in
-benevolent exertions for the welfare of others. My mother, I suspected,
-had been the victim of her husband's unkindness and neglect: wonder not,
-then, that my heart revolted when I would have given him the tender
-appellation of father! If he coldly acknowledged any little merits which
-I possessed, he regarded them rather with jealousy than approbation; for
-he felt that they tacitly reproached him.
-
-I will make no comment on the closing scene of his life. Among the
-various emotions which had rapidly succeeded each other in my mind,
-during his last address, surprize had no place; I had not then his
-character to learn.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-The small pittance bequeathed to me was insufficient to preserve me
-from dependence.--_Dependence!_--I repeated to myself, and I felt my
-heart die within me. I revolved in my mind various plans for my future
-establishment.--I might, perhaps, be allowed to officiate, as an
-assistant, in the school where I had been placed in my childhood, with
-the mistress of which I still kept up an occasional correspondence; but
-this was a species of servitude, and my mind panted for freedom, for
-social intercourse, for scenes in motion, where the active curiosity of
-my temper might find a scope wherein to range and speculate. What could
-the interest of my little fortune afford? It would neither enable me
-to live alone, nor even to board in a family of any respectability. My
-beloved aunt was no more; her children were about to be dispersed, and
-to form various connections.
-
-Cruel prejudices!--I exclaimed--hapless woman! Why was I not educated
-for commerce, for a profession, for labour? Why have I been rendered
-feeble and delicate by bodily constraint, and fastidious by artificial
-refinement? Why are we bound, by the habits of society, as with an
-adamantine chain? Why do we suffer ourselves to be confined within a
-magic circle, without daring, by a magnanimous effort, to dissolve the
-barbarous spell?
-
-A child in the drama of the world, I knew not which way to turn, nor on
-what to determine. I wrote to Mr Morton, to enquire on what terms I was
-to be received by his family. If merely as a visitor for a few weeks,
-till I had time to digest my plans, I should meet, with pleasure, a
-gentleman whose character I had been taught to respect; but I should not
-consider myself as subject to controul. I ought, perhaps, to have been
-satisfied with Mr Morton's answer to my interrogatories.
-
-He wished to embrace the daughter of his brother, his family would be
-happy to render Morton Park agreeable to her, as long as she should
-think proper to favour them by making it her residence. The young
-ladies expected both pleasure and improvement from the society of
-their accomplished kinswoman, &c.
-
-I believe I was unreasonable, the style of this letter was civil, nay
-kind, and yet it appeared, to me, to want the vivifying principle--what
-shall I say?--dictated merely by the head, it reached not the heart.
-
-The trials of my mind, I foreboded, were about to commence, I shrunk
-from the world I had been so willing to enter, for the rude storms of
-which I had been little fitted by the fostering tenderness of my early
-guardians. Those ardent feelings and lively expectations, with all the
-glowing landscapes which my mind had sketched of the varied pleasures
-of society, while in a measure secluded from its enjoyments, gradually
-melted into one deep, undistinguished shade. That sanguine ardour of
-temper, which had hitherto appeared the predominant feature of my
-character, now gave place to despondency. I wept, I suffered my tears
-to flow unrestrained: the solemnity of the late events had seized my
-spirits, and the approaching change filled me with solicitude. I
-wandered over the scenes of my past pleasures, and recalled to my
-remembrance, with a sad and tender luxury, a thousand little incidents,
-that derived all their importance from the impossibility of their
-renewal. I gazed on every object, _for the last time_--What is there in
-these words that awakens our fanaticisms? I could have done homage to
-these inanimate, and, till now, uninteresting objects; merely because I
-should _see them no more_.
-
-How fantastic and how capricious are these sentiments! Ought I, or
-ought I not, to blush while I acknowledge them? My young friends, also,
-from whom I was about to separate myself!--how various might be our
-destinies, and how unconscious were we of the future! Happy ignorance,
-that by bringing the evils of life in succession, gradually inures us to
-their endurance.
-
-  'Had I beheld the sum of ills, which one
-   By one, I have endured--my heart had broke.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-The hour at length came, when, harrassed in body and in mind, I set out
-for Morton Park. I travelled alone, and reached the end of my journey at
-close of day. I entreated Mr Morton, who hastened to hand me from the
-carriage, and welcome my arrival, that I might be permitted to retire
-to my apartment, pleading fatigue, and wishing to wave the ceremony of
-an introduction to the family till the next morning. My request was
-obligingly granted, and a servant ordered to attend me to my chamber.
-
-Many years had elapsed since I had seen this family, and my judgment
-was then so immature, that our meeting at the breakfast table had with
-each of us, I believe, the force of a first impression. You know my
-_fanaticism_ on these occasions. I will attempt an imperfect sketch of
-the groupe, assembled in the saloon, to whom I was severally presented
-on my entrance, by the lord of the domain. Mr Morton, himself, to whom
-precedence is due, seemed to be about fifty years of age, was of the
-middle stature, his features regular, and his countenance placid: he
-spoke but little, but that little was always mild and often judicious.
-He appeared not to be void of benevolent affections, and had the
-character of a humane landlord, but his virtues were, in a great
-measure, sunk in an habitual indolence of temper; he would sometimes
-sacrifice his principles to his repose, though never to his interest.
-His lady--no, I will not describe her; her character will, it may be,
-unfold itself to you in future--Suffice it to say, that her person
-was gross, her voice loud and discordant, and her features rugged:
-she affected an air of openness and pleasantry; It may be prejudiced,
-perhaps she did not _affect it_. Sarah Morton, the eldest of the
-daughters, was about my age, she was under the middle height, fair,
-plump, loquacious; there was a childish levity in her accent and
-manners, which impressed strangers with an unfavourable opinion of her
-understanding, but it was an acquired manner, for she was shrewd and
-sensible. Ann, the second daughter was a little lively brunette, with
-sharp features and sparkling black eyes; volatile, giddy, vain and
-thoughtless, but good humoured and pretty. The other children were much
-younger.
-
-Two gentlemen joined us at our repast, visitors at Morton park. Mr
-Francis, the elder, was in his fortieth year, his figure slender and
-delicate, his eye piercing, and his manner impressive. It occurred to
-me, that I had somewhere seen him before, and, after a few minutes
-recollection, I recognized in him a gentleman who had occasionally
-visited at my father's, and whom I have already mentioned as the
-antagonist of the man of fashion, whose sentiments and volubility
-excited my youthful astonishment and indignation. Mr Montague the
-younger, the son of a medical gentleman residing in a neighbouring
-county, seemed about one and twenty, tall, elegantly formed, full of
-fire and vivacity, with imperious manners, an impetuous temper, and
-stubborn prejudices.
-
-The introduction of a stranger generally throws some kind of restraint
-over a company; a break is made in their usual topics and associations,
-till the disposition and habits of the intruder have, in some degree,
-unfolded themselves. Mrs Morton took upon herself to entertain; she
-exhibited her talents on various subjects, with apparent self-approbation,
-till a few keen remarks from Mr Francis arrested the torrent of her
-eloquence. The young ladies scrutinized me with attention; even the
-lively Ann, while she minutely observed me, ceased to court play from
-Mr Montague, who attended to me with the air, and addressed me in the
-language of gallantry. I sometimes caught the penetrating eye of Mr
-Francis, and his glance seemed to search the soul.
-
-After breakfast, Mr Morton having retired to his dressing-room, and the
-younger part of the company strolling into the pleasure grounds, whither
-I declined accompanying them, I took an opportunity, being ever desirous
-of active and useful employment, of offering my assistance to Mrs Morton,
-in the education of her younger children; proposing to instruct them
-in the rudiments either of music, drawing, French, or any other
-accomplishment, for which my own education had capacitated me. Mr
-Francis remained standing in a window, his back towards us, with a book
-in his hand, on which he seemed intent.
-
-'If,' replied Mrs Morton, 'it is your wish, Miss Courtney, to procure
-the situation of governess in any gentleman's family, and it is
-certainly a very laudable desire in a young woman of your _small
-fortune_, Mr Morton will, I have no doubt, have it in his power
-to recommend you: but in the education of my family, I desire no
-interference; it is an important task, and I have my peculiar notions
-on the subject: their expectations are not great, and your _elegant_
-accomplishments might unfit them for their future, probable, stations.'
-
-The manner in which this speech was uttered spoke yet more forcibly than
-the words.--I felt my cheeks glow.
-
-'I was not asking favours, Madam, I was only desirous of being useful.'
-
-'It is a pity, then, that your discernment had not corrected your
-vanity.'
-
-The housekeeper entering, to consult her mistress on some domestic
-occasion, Mrs Morton quitted the room. Mr Francis closed his book,
-turned round, and gazed earnestly in my face: before sufficiently
-mortified, his observation, which I felt at this moment oppressive, did
-not relieve me. I attempted to escape, but, seizing my hand, he detained
-me by a kind of gentle violence.
-
-'And why this confusion, my dear Miss Courtney; do you blush for having
-acted with propriety and spirit?' I burst into tears--I could not help
-it--'How weak is this, how unworthy of the good sense you have just
-manifested.'
-
-'I confess it, but I feel myself, at this moment, a poor, a friendless,
-an unprotected being.'
-
-'What prejudices! poverty is neither criminal, nor disgraceful; you
-will not want friends, while you continue to deserve them; and as for
-protection,' (and he smiled) 'I had not expected from Emma Courtney's
-spirited letter to Mr Morton, and equally proper retort to his lady's
-impertinence, so plaintive, so feminine a complaint.--You have talents,
-cultivate them, and learn to rest on your own powers.'
-
-'I thank you for your reproof, and solicit your future lessons.'
-
-'Can you bear the truth?'
-
-'Try me.'
-
-'Have you not cherished a false pride?'
-
-It is too true, thought I, and I sighed.
-
-'How shall I cure this foible?'
-
-'By self-examination, by resolution, and perseverance.'
-
-'Be to me instead of a conscience.'
-
-'What, then, is become of your own?'
-
-'Prejudice, I doubt, has blinded and warped it.'
-
-'I suspect so; but you have energy and candor, and are not, I hope, of a
-temper to despond.'
-
-The return of the family terminated this singular conversation.
-The young ladies rallied me, on being found _tête-à-tête_ with the
-philosopher; Mr Montague, I thought looked displeased. I stole out;
-while the party were dressing for dinner, and rambled into the gardens,
-which were extensive, and laid out with taste.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-I judged my visit here would not be very long. I scarcely knew whether I
-was most inclined to like or to fear Mr Francis, but I determined, if
-possible, to cultivate his friendship. I interrogated myself again and
-again--From whence this restlessness, this languor, this disgust, with
-all I hear and see?--Why do I feel wayward, querulous, fastidious? Mr
-Morton's family had no hearts; they appeared to want a _sense_, that
-preyed incessantly on mine; I could not love them, and my heart panted
-to expand its sensations.
-
-Sarah and Ann became jealous of me, and of each other; the haughty, yet
-susceptible, Montague addressed each in turn, with a homage equally
-fervent for the moment, and equally transient. This young man was bold,
-ardent, romantic, and enterprizing, but blown about by every gust of
-passion, he appeared each succeeding moment a different character: with
-a glowing and rapid imagination, he had never given himself time to
-reason, to compare, to acquire principles: following the bent of a
-raised, yet capricious fancy, he was ever in pursuit of meteors, that
-led him into mischief, or phantoms, that dissolved at his approach.
-
-Had my mind been more assured and at ease, I could have amused myself
-with the whimsical flights of this eccentric being--One hour, attracted
-by the sportive graces of Ann, he played with and caressed her, while
-the minutes flew rapidly on the light wing of amusement, and, till
-reminded by the grave countenance of Mr Morton, seemed to forget
-that any other person was present. The next minute, disgusted by her
-frivolity, all his attention was absorbed by the less fascinating, but
-more artful and ingenious, Sarah. Then, quitting them both, he would
-pursue my steps, break in upon my meditations, and haunt my retreats,
-from whence, when not disposed to be entertained by his caprice, I
-found it not difficult to drive him, by attacking some of his various
-prejudices:--accustomed to feel, and not to reason, his tastes and
-opinions were vehement and uncontroulable.
-
-From this society, so uncongenial to my reflecting, reasoning, mind,
-I found some resource in the conversation of Mr Francis. The pride of
-Montague was evidently piqued by the decided preference which I gave to
-the company of his friend; but his homage, or his resentment, were alike
-indifferent to me: accustomed to speak and act from my convictions,
-I was but little solicitous respecting the opinion of others. My
-understanding was exercised by attending to the observations of Mr
-Francis, and by discussing the questions to which they led; yet it
-was exercised without being gratified: he opposed and bewildered me,
-convicted me of error, and harrassed me with doubt.
-
-Mr Francis soon after prepared to return to town. I was affected at the
-idea of his departure; and felt, that in losing his society, I should be
-deprived of my only rational recreation, and should again be exposed to
-Mrs Morton's illiberal attacks, who appeared to have marked me out for
-her victim, though at present restrained by the presence of a man, who
-had found means to inspire, even her, with some degree of respect.
-
-Mr Francis, on the evening preceding the day on which he purposed
-leaving Morton Park, passing under the open window of my chamber, in
-which I was sitting with a book to enjoy the refreshing breeze, invited
-me to come down, and accompany him in a ramble. I immediately complied
-with his request, and joined him in a few minutes, with a countenance
-clouded with regret at the idea of his quitting us.
-
-'You are going,' said I, as I gave him my hand (which he passed under
-his arm), 'and I lose my friend and counsellor.'
-
-'Your concern is obliging; but you are capable of standing alone, and
-your mind, by so doing, will acquire strength.'
-
-'I feel as if this would not be the case: the world appears to me a
-thorny and pathless wilderness; I step with caution, and look around me
-with dread.--That I require protection and assistance is, I confess, a
-proof of weakness, but it is nevertheless true.'
-
-'Mr Montague,' replied he, with some degree of archness in his tone and
-manner, 'is a gallant knight, a pattern of chivalry, and appears to be
-particularly calculated for the defender of distressed damsels!'
-
-'I have no inclination to trust myself to the guidance of one, who seems
-himself entangled in an inextricable maze of error, and whose versatile
-character affords little basis for confidence.'
-
-'Tell me what it is you fear;--are your apprehensions founded in
-reason?'
-
-'Recollect my youth, my sex, and my precarious situation.'
-
-'I thought you contemned the plea of _sex_, as a sanction for weakness!'
-
-'Though I disallow it as a natural, I admit it as an artificial, plea.'
-
-'Explain yourself.'
-
-'The character, you tell me, is modified by circumstances: the customs
-of society, then, have enslaved, enervated, and degraded woman.'
-
-'I understand you: there is truth in your remark, though you have given
-it undue force.'
-
-I hesitated--my heart was full--I felt as if there were many things
-which I wished to say; but, however paradoxical, the manners of Mr
-Francis repressed, while they invited, confidence. I respected his
-reason, but I doubted whether I could inspire him with sympathy, or
-make him fully comprehend my feelings. I conceived I could express
-myself with more freedom on paper; but I had not courage to request a
-correspondence, when he was silent on the subject. That it would be a
-source of improvement to me, I could not doubt, but prejudice with-held
-me from making the proposal. He looked at me, and perceived my mind
-struggling with a suggestion, to which it dared not give utterance: he
-suspected the truth, but was unwilling to disturb the operations of my
-understanding. We walked for some time in silence:--my companion struck
-into a path that led towards the house--listened to the village clock as
-it struck nine--and observed, the hour grew late. He had distinguished
-me, and I was flattered by that distinction; he had supported me against
-the arrogance of Mrs Morton, retorted the sly sarcasms of Sarah, and
-even helped to keep the impetuous Montague in awe, and obliged him to
-rein in his offensive spirit, every moment on the brink of outrage. My
-heart, formed for grateful attachment, taking, in one instant, a hasty
-retrospect of the past, and a rapid glance into futurity, experienced at
-that moment so desolating a pang, that I endeavoured in vain to repress
-its sensations, and burst into a flood of tears. Mr Francis suddenly
-stopped, appeared moved, and, with a benevolent aspect and soothing
-accents, enquired into the cause of an emotion so sudden and unexpected.
-I wept a few minutes in silence, and my spirits seemed, in some measure,
-relieved.
-
-'I weep,' (said I), 'because I am _friendless_; to be esteemed and
-cherished is necessary to my existence; I am an alien in the family
-where I at present reside, I cannot remain here much longer, and to
-whom, and whither, shall I go?'
-
-He took my hand--'I will not, at present, say all that it might be
-proper to say, because I perceive your mind is in a feeble state;--My
-affairs call me to London;--yet, there is a method of conversing at a
-distance.'
-
-I eagerly availed myself of this suggestion, which I had wished, without
-having the courage to propose.
-
-'Will you, then, allow me, through the medium of pen and paper, to
-address, to consult you, as I may see occasion?'
-
-'Will I? yes, most cheerfully! Propose your doubts and state your
-difficulties, and we shall see,' (smiling) 'whether they admit of a
-solution.'
-
-Thanking him, I engaged to avail myself of this permission, and we
-proceeded slowly to the house, and joined the party in the supper room.
-I never once thought of my red and swoln eyes, till Sarah, glancing a
-look half curious, half sarcastic, towards me, exclaimed from
-Shakespear, in an affected tone,
-
-  'Parting is such sweet sorrow!'
-
-Mr Francis looked at her sternly, she blushed and was silent; Mr
-Montague was captious; Ann mortified, that she could not by her little
-tricks gain his attention. Mrs Morton sat wrapped in mock dignity; while
-Mr Morton, and his philosophic friend, canvassed the principles upon
-which an horizontal mill was about to be constructed on the estate of
-the former. After a short and scanty meal, I retired to my apartment,
-determined to rise early the next morning, and make breakfast for my
-friend before his departure.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-Mr Francis had ordered his horse to be ready at five o'clock. I left
-my chamber at four, to have the pleasure of preparing for him the last
-friendly repast, and of saying _farewel_. He was serene and chearful as
-usual, I somewhat more pensive; we parted with great cordiality, he
-gave me his address in town, and engaged me to write to him shortly.
-I accompanied him through the Park to the porter's lodge, where the
-servant and horses waited his coming. My eyes glistened as I bade him
-adieu, and reiterated my wishes for his safety and prosperity, while his
-features softened into a more than usual benignity, as he returned my
-salutation.
-
-I wandered thoughtfully back towards the house, but the rich purple
-that began to illumine the east, the harbinger of the rising sun, the
-freshness of the morning air, the soft dews which already glittered on
-every fragrant plant and flower, the solemn stillness, so grateful to
-the reflecting mind, that pervaded the scene, induced me to prolong my
-walk. Every object appeared in unison with my feelings, my heart swelled
-with devotional affections, it aspired to the Author of nature. After
-having bewildered ourselves amid systems and theories, religion, in such
-situations, returns to the susceptible mind as a _sentiment_ rather than
-as a principle. A passing cloud let fall a gentle, drizzling shower;
-sheltered beneath the leafy umbrage of a spreading oak, I rather heard
-than felt it; yet, the coolness it diffused seemed to quench those
-ardent emotions, which are but too congenial with my disposition, while
-the tumult of the passions subsided into a delicious tranquillity.
-
-How mutable are human beings!--A very few hours converted this sublime
-complacency into perturbation and tumult. Having extended my walk beyond
-its accustomed limits, on my return, I retired, somewhat fatigued to my
-apartment, and devoted the morning to my studies. At the dinner hour
-I joined the family, each individual of which seemed wrapped up in
-reserve, scarcely deigning to practise the common ceremonies of the
-occasion. I was not sufficiently interested in the cause of these
-appearances to make any enquiries, and willingly resigned myself, in
-the intervals of the entertainment, to meditation.
-
-When the table was cleared, and the servants had withdrawn, perceiving
-the party not sociably inclined, I was about to retire--when Mrs Morton
-observed, with features full of a meaning which I did not comprehend,
-that--
-
-'Their guest, Mr Francis, had, no doubt, left Morton Park gratefully
-impressed by the _kindness_ of Miss Courtney.'
-
-Montague reddened--bit his lips--got up--and sat down again. The young
-ladies wore an air not perfectly good-humoured, and a little triumphant.
-Mr Morton looked very solemn.
-
-'I hope so, Madam,' I replied, somewhat carelessly. 'I felt myself
-indebted to Mr Francis for his civilities, and was solicitous to make
-him all the return in my power--I wish that power had been enlarged.'
-
-She held up her hands and eyes with an affected, and ridiculous,
-gesture.
-
-'Mr Francis,' said Montague, abruptly, 'is very happy in having inspired
-you with sentiments _so partial_.'
-
-'I am not partial--I am merely just. Mr Francis appeared to me a
-rational man, and my understanding was exercised and gratified by his
-conversation.'
-
-I was about to proceed, but my uncle (who seemed to have been tutored
-for the occasion) interrupted me with much gravity.
-
-'You are but little acquainted, Emma, with the customs of society; there
-is great indecorum in a young lady's making these distinctions.'
-
-'What distinctions, my dear Sir!--in prefering a reasonable man to fools
-and coxcombs.'
-
-'Forgive me, my dear--you have a quick wit, but you want experience. I
-am informed, that you breakfasted with Mr Francis this morning, and
-attended him through the Park:--this, with your late walk yesterday
-evening, and evident emotion on your return, let me tell you, child,
-wears an indecorous appearance:--the world is justly attentive to the
-conduct of young women, and too apt to be censorious.'
-
-I looked round me with unaffected surprize--'Good God!--did I suppose,
-in this family, it was necessary to be upon my guard against malicious
-constructions?'
-
-'Pray,'--interrupted Sarah, pertly--'would you not have expressed some
-surprize, had I shewed Mr Montague similar attentions?'
-
-I looked at her, I believe, a little too contemptuously.--'Whatever
-sentiments might have been excited in my mind by the attentions of Miss
-Morton to Mr Montague, _surprize_, assuredly, would not have been among
-them.'
-
-She coloured, and Montague's passions began to rise. I stopped him at
-the beginning of an impertinent harangue, by observing--
-
-'That I did not think myself accountable to him for my conduct;--before
-I should be solicitous respecting his opinions, he must give me better
-reasons, than he had hitherto done, to respect his judgment.'
-
-Ann wept, and prattled something, to which nobody thought it worth while
-to attend.
-
-'Well, Sir,' continued I, turning to Mr Morton, 'be pleased to give me,
-in detail, what you have to alledge, that I may be enabled to justify
-myself.'
-
-'Will you allow me to ask you a question?'
-
-'Most certainly.'
-
-'Has Mr Francis engaged you to correspond with him?'
-
-I was silent a few moments.
-
-'You hesitate!'
-
-'Only, Sir, _how_ to answer your question.--I certainly intend myself
-the pleasure of addressing Mr Francis on paper; but I cannot strictly
-say _he engaged_ me so to do, as it was a proposal he was led to make,
-by conjecturing my wishes on the subject.'
-
-Again, Mrs Morton, with uplifted hands and eyes--'What effrontery!'
-
-I seemed not to hear her.--'Have you any thing more to say, my dear
-uncle?'
-
-'You are a strange girl. It would not, perhaps, be proper before this
-company to enquire'--and he stopped.
-
-'Any thing is proper, Sir, to enquire of me, and in any company--I have
-no reserves, no secrets.'
-
-'Well, then, I think it necessary to inform you, that, though a
-sensible, well educated, liberal-minded, man, Mr Francis has neither
-estate nor fortune, nor does he practise any lucrative profession.'
-
-'I am sorry for it, on his own account; and for those whom his
-generosity might benefit. But, what is it to me?'
-
-'You affect to misunderstand me.'
-
-'I _affect_ nothing.'
-
-'I will speak more plainly:--Has he made you any proposals?'
-
-The purport of this solemn, but ludicrous, preparation, at once flashed
-upon my mind, the first time the thought had ever occurred. I laughed--I
-could not help it.
-
-'I considered Mr Francis as a _philosopher_, and not as a _lover_. Does
-this satisfy you, Sir?'
-
-My uncle's features, in spite of himself, relaxed into a half-smile.
-
-'Very platonic--sweet simplicity!'--drauled out Mrs Morton, in ironical
-accents.
-
-'I will not be insulted, Mr Morton!' quitting my seat, and rising in
-temper.--'I consider myself, merely, as your visitant, and not as
-responsible to any one for my actions. Conscious of purity of intention,
-and superior to all disguise or evasion, I was not aware of these
-feminine, indelicate, unfriendly suggestions. If this behaviour be a
-specimen of what I am to expect in the world--the world may do its
-will--but I will never be its slave: while I have strength of mind
-to form principles, and courage to act upon them, I am determined to
-preserve my freedom, and trust to the general candour and good sense
-of mankind to appreciate me justly. As the brother of my late father,
-and as entitled to respect from your own kind intentions, I am
-willing to enter into any explanations, which _you_, _Sir_, may think
-necessary:--neither my motives, nor my actions, have ever yet shrunk
-from investigation. Will you permit me to attend you in your library? It
-is not my intention to intrude longer on your hospitality, and I could
-wish to avail myself of your experience and counsels respecting my
-future destination.'
-
-Mr Morton, at my request, withdrew with me into the library, where I
-quickly removed from his mind those injurious suspicions with which Mrs
-Morton had laboured to inspire him. He would not hear of my removal from
-the Park--apologized for what had passed--assured me of his friendship
-and protection--and entreated me to consider his house as my home. There
-was an honest warmth and sincerity in his manner, that sensibly affected
-me; I could have wept; and I engaged, at his repeated request, not to
-think, at present, of withdrawing myself from his protection. Thus we
-separated.
-
-How were the virtues of this really good man tarnished by an unsuitable
-connection! In the giddy hours of youth, we thoughtlessly rush into
-engagements, that fetter our minds, and affect our future characters,
-without reflecting on the important consequences of our conduct. This is
-a subject on which I have had occasion to reflect deeply; yet, alas! my
-own boasted reason has been, but too often, the dupe of my imagination.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-Nothing, here, occupied my heart--a heart to which it was necessary to
-love and admire. I had suffered myself to be irritated--the tumult of my
-spirits did not easily subside--I was mortified at the reflection--I had
-believed myself armed with patience and fortitude, but my philosophy was
-swept before the impetuous emotions of my passions like chaff before the
-whirlwind. I took up my pen to calm my spirits, and addressed myself to
-the man who had been, unconsciously, the occasion of these vexations.--My
-swelling heart needed the relief of communication.
-
-
-      TO MR FRANCIS
-
-      'I Sought earnestly for the privilege of addressing you on
-      paper. My mind seemed to overflow with a thousand
-      sentiments, that I had not the courage to express in words;
-      but now, when the period is arrived, that I can take up my
-      pen, unawed by your penetrating glance, unchecked by your
-      poignant reply, and pour out my spirit before you, I feel
-      as if its emotions were too wayward, too visionary, too
-      contradictory, to merit your attention.
-
-      'Every thing I see and hear is a disappointment to
-      me:--brought up in retirement--conversing only with
-      books--dwelling with ardour on the great characters, and
-      heroic actions, of antiquity, all my ideas of honour and
-      distinction were associated with those of virtue and
-      talents. I conceived, that the pursuit of truth, and the
-      advancement of reason, were the grand objects of universal
-      attention, and I panted to do homage to those superior
-      minds, who, teaching mankind to be wise, would at length
-      lead them to happiness. Accustomed to think, to feel, to
-      kindle into action, I am at a loss to understand the
-      distinction between theory and practice, which every one
-      seems eager to inculcate, as if the degrading and melancholy
-      intelligence, which fills my soul with despondency, and
-      pervades my understanding with gloom, was to them a subject
-      of exultation.
-
-      'Is virtue, then, a chimera--does it exist only in the
-      regions of romance?--Have we any interest in finding our
-      fellow creatures weak and miserable?--Is the Being who
-      formed them unjust, capricious, impotent, or tyrannical?
-
-      'Answer these questions, that press heavily on my mind, that
-      dart across it, in its brightest moments, clouding its
-      sun-shine with a thick and impenetrable darkness. Must the
-      benevolent emotions, which I have hitherto delighted to
-      cherish, turn into misanthropy--must the fervent and social
-      affections of my heart give place to inanity, to
-      apathy--must the activity of a curious and vigorous mind
-      sink into torpor and abhorred vacuity?
-
-      'While they teach me to distrust the existence of virtue,
-      they endeavour to impose on me, in its stead, a fictitious
-      semblance; and to substitute, for the pure gold of truth, a
-      paltry tinsel. It is in vain I ask--what have those to do
-      with "_seeming_," who still retain "that which _passeth
-      shew_?" However my actions may be corrupted by the
-      contagious example of the world, may I still hold fast my
-      integrity, and disdain to wear the _appearance_ of virtue,
-      when the substance shall no longer exist.
-
-      'To admire, to esteem, to love, are congenial to my
-      nature--I am unhappy, because these affections are not
-      called into exercise. To venerate abstract perfection,
-      requires too vigorous an exertion of the mental powers--I
-      would see virtue exemplified, I would love it in my fellow
-      creatures--I would catch the glorious enthusiasm, and rise
-      from created to uncreated excellence.
-
-      'I am perplexed with doubts; relieve the wanderings of my
-      mind, solve the difficulties by which it is agitated,
-      prepare me for the world which is before me. The prospect,
-      no longer beaming with light, no longer glowing with a
-      thousand vivid hues, is overspread with mists, which the
-      mind's eye vainly attempts to penetrate. I would feel,
-      again, the value of existence, the worth of rectitude, the
-      certainty of truth, the blessing of hope! Ah! tell me
-      not--that the gay expectations of youth have been the
-      meteors of fancy, the visions of a romantic and distempered
-      imagination! If I must not live to realize them, I would not
-      live at all.
-
-      'My harrassed mind turns to you! You will not ridicule its
-      scruples--you will, at least, deign to reason with me, and,
-      in the exercise of my understanding, I shall experience a
-      temporary relief from the sensations which devour me, the
-      suspicions that distress me, and which spread over futurity
-      a fearful veil.
-
-                                                          'EMMA.'
-
-
-I walked to the next market town, and left my letter at the post-house,--I
-waited impatiently for a reply; my mind wanted _impression_, and sunk
-into languor. The answer, which arrived in a few days, was kind, because
-it was prompt, my sickly mind required a speedy remedy.
-
-
-      TO EMMA COURTNEY.
-
-      'Why will you thus take things in masses, and continually
-      dwell in extremes? You deceive yourself; instead of
-      cultivating your reason, you are fostering an excessive
-      sensibility, a fastidious delicacy. It is the business of
-      reason to compare, to separate, to discriminate. Is there no
-      medium--extraordinary exertions are only called forth by
-      extraordinary contingences;--because every human being is
-      not a hero, are we then to distrust the existence of virtue?
-
-      'The mind is modified by the circumstances in which it
-      is placed, by the accidents of birth and education; the
-      constitutions of society are all, as yet, imperfect; they
-      have generated, and perpetuated, many mistakes--the
-      consequences of those mistakes will, eventually, carry with
-      them their antidote, the seeds of reproduction are, even,
-      visible in their decay. The growth of reason is slow,
-      but not the less sure; the increase of knowledge must
-      necessarily prepare the way for the increase of virtue and
-      happiness.
-
-      'Look back upon the early periods of society, and, taking
-      a retrospective view of what has been done, amidst the
-      interruptions of barbarous inroads, falling empires, and
-      palsying despotism, calculate what yet may be achieved:
-      while the causes, which have hitherto impeded the progress
-      of civilization, must continue to decrease, in an
-      accelerated ration, with the wide, and still wider,
-      diffusion of truth.
-
-      'We may trace most of the faults, and the miseries of
-      mankind, to the vices and errors of political institutions,
-      their permanency having been their radical defect. Like
-      children, we have dreamt, that what gratifies our desires,
-      or contributes to our convenience, to-day, will prove
-      equally useful and satisfactory to-morrow, without
-      reflecting on the growth of the body, the change of humours,
-      the new objects, and the new situations, which every
-      succeeding hour brings in its train. That immutability,
-      which constitutes the perfection of what we (from the
-      poverty of language) term the _divine mind_, would
-      inevitably be the bane of creatures liable to error; it is
-      of the constancy, rather than of the fickleness, of human
-      beings, that we have reason to complain.
-
-      'Every improvement must be the result of successive
-      experiments, this has been found true in natural science,
-      and it must be universally applied to be universally
-      beneficial. Bigotry, whether religious, political, moral, or
-      commercial, is the canker-worm at the root of the tree of
-      knowledge and of virtue. The wildest speculations are less
-      mischievous than the torpid state of error: he, who tamely
-      resigns his understanding to the guidance of another,
-      sinks at once, from the dignity of a rational being, to a
-      mechanical puppet, moved at pleasure on the wires of the
-      artful operator.--_Imposition_ is the principle and support
-      of every varied description of tyranny, whether civil or
-      ecclesiastical, moral or mental; its baneful consequence is
-      to degrade both him who is imposed on, and him who imposes.
-      _Obedience_, is a word, which ought never to have had
-      existence: as we recede from conviction, and languidly
-      resign ourselves to any foreign authority, we quench the
-      principle of action, of virtue, of reason;--we bear about
-      the semblance of humanity, but the spirit is fled.
-
-      'These are truths, which will slowly, but ultimately,
-      prevail; in the splendour of which, the whole fabric of
-      superstition will gradually fade and melt away. The world,
-      like every individual, has its progress from infancy to
-      maturity--How many follies do we commit in childhood? how
-      many errors are we precipitated into by the fervour and
-      inexperience of youth! Is not every stable principle
-      acquired through innumerable mistakes--can you wonder, that
-      in society, amidst the aggregate of jarring interests and
-      passions, reformation is so tardy? Though civilization has
-      been impeded by innumerable obstacles, even these help to
-      carry on the great work: empires may be overturned, and the
-      arts scattered, but not lost. The hordes of barbarians,
-      which overwhelmed ancient Rome, adopted at length the
-      religion, the laws, and the improvements of the vanquished,
-      as Rome had before done those of Greece. As the stone,
-      which, thrown into the water, spreads circles still more
-      and more extended;--or (to adopt the gospel similitude) as
-      the grain of mustard seed, growing up into a large tree,
-      shelters the fowls of heaven in its branches--so will
-      knowledge, at length, diffuse itself, till it covers the
-      whole earth.
-
-      'When the minds of men are changed, the system of things
-      will also change; but these changes, though active and
-      incessant, must be gradual. Reason will fall softly,
-      and almost imperceptibly, like a gentle shower of dews,
-      fructifying the soil, and preparing it for future harvests.
-      Let us not resemble the ambitious shepherd, who, calling for
-      the accumulated waters of the Nile upon his lands, was, with
-      his flock, swept away in the impetuous torrent.
-
-      'You ask, whether--because human beings are still
-      imperfect--you are to resign your benevolence, and to
-      cherish misanthropy? What a question! Would you hate the
-      inhabitants of an hospital for being infected with a
-      pestilential disorder? Let us remember, that vice originates
-      in mistakes of the understanding, and that, he who seeks
-      happiness by means contradictory and destructive, _is
-      emphatically the sinner_. Our duties, then, are obvious--If
-      selfish and violent passions have been generated by the
-      inequalities of society, we must labour to counteract them,
-      by endeavouring to combat prejudice, to expand the mind,
-      to give comprehensive views, to teach mankind their true
-      interest, and to lead them to habits of goodness and
-      greatness. Every prejudice conquered, every mistake
-      rectified, every individual improved, is an advance upon the
-      great scale of virtue and happiness.
-
-      'Let it, then, be your noblest ambition to co-operate with,
-      to join your efforts, to those of philosophers and sages,
-      the benefactors of mankind. To waste our time in useless
-      repinings is equally weak and vain; every one in his sphere
-      may do something; each has a little circle where his
-      influence will be availing. Correct your own errors, which
-      are various--weeds in a luxuriant soil--and you will have
-      done something towards the general reformation. But you are
-      able to do more;--be vigilant, be active, beware of the
-      illusions of fancy! I suspect, that you will have much to
-      suffer--may you, at length, reap the fruits of a wholesome,
-      though it should be a bitter, experience.
-
-                                                  '---- FRANCIS.'
-
-
-I perused the letter, I had received, again and again; it awakened a
-train of interesting reflections, and my spirits became tranquillized.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-Early one fine morning, Ann tapped gently at the door of my chamber; I
-had already risen, and invited her to enter.
-
-'Would I accompany her to breakfast, with a widow lady, who resided in a
-village about two miles from Morton Park, an occasional visitant in the
-family, a lady with whom, she was certain, I should be charmed.'
-
-I smiled at her ardour, thanked her for her kindness, and readily agreed
-to her proposal. We strolled together through an adjacent wood, which,
-by a shady and winding path, conducted us towards the residence of this
-vaunted favourite of my little companion.
-
-On our way, she entertained me with a slight sketch of the history of
-Mrs Harley and her family. She was the widow of a merchant, who was
-supposed to possess great property; but, practising occasionally as an
-underwriter, a considerable capture by the enemy (during war time) of
-some rich ships, reduced his fortune; and, by the consequent anxiety,
-completely destroyed a before debilitated constitution. He died in a few
-weeks after the confirmation of his loss, and, having neglected to make
-a will, a freehold estate of some value, which was all that remained of
-his effects, devolved of course to his eldest son; his two younger sons
-and three daughters being left wholly unprovided for. Augustus Harley,
-the heir, immediately sold the estate, and divided the produce, in equal
-shares, between each individual of the family. His brothers had been
-educated for commerce, and were enabled, through the generous kindness
-of Augustus, to carry on, with advantage and reputation, their
-respective occupations; the sisters were, soon after, eligibly married.
-Augustus, who had been educated for the law, disgusted with its
-chicanery, relinquished the profession, content to restrain his expences
-within the limits of a narrow income. This income had since received an
-increase, by the bequest of a distant relation, a man of a whimsical
-character, who had married, early in life, a beautiful woman, for love;
-but his wife having eloped from him with an officer, and, in the course
-of the intrigue, practised a variety of deceptions, he had retired
-disgusted from society, cherishing a misanthropical spirit: and, on his
-decease, bequeathed an annual sum of four hundred pounds to Augustus
-Harley (to whom in his childhood he had been particularly attached) on
-condition of his remaining unmarried. On his marriage, or death, this
-legacy passed into another branch of the family. On this acquisition
-Augustus determined on making the tour of Europe; and, after travelling
-on the continent for three years, on his return to his native country,
-alternately resided, either in the village of----, with his mother, or
-in the metropolis, where he divided his time, between liberal studies,
-and rational recreation. His visits to the country had, of late,
-been shorter and less frequent: he was the idol of his mother, and
-universally respected by his acquaintance, for his noble and generous
-conduct.--'Ah!' (added the lively narrator) 'could you but see Augustus
-Harley, you would, infallibly, lose your heart--so frank, so pleasant,
-so ingenuous are his manners, so intrepid, and yet so humane! Montague
-is a fine gentleman, but Augustus Harley is more--_he is a man!_'
-
-She began to grow eloquent on this, apparently, exhaustless theme, nor
-did she cease her panegyric till we came in view of Mrs Harley's
-mansion.
-
-'You will love the mother as well as the son,' continued this agreeable
-prattler, 'when you come to know her; she is very good and very
-sensible.'
-
-Drawing near the house, she tripped from me, to enquire if its mistress
-had yet risen.
-
-A small white tenement, half obscured in shrubbery, on a verdant lawn,
-of dimensions equally modest, situated on the side of a hill, and
-commanding an extensive and variegated prospect, was too interesting
-and picturesque an object, not to engage for some moments my attention.
-The image of Augustus, also, which my lively companion had pourtrayed
-with more than her usual vivacity, played in my fancy--my heart paid
-involuntary homage to virtue, and I entered the mansion of Mrs Harley
-with a swelling emotion, made up of complicated feelings--half
-respectful, half tender--sentiments, too mingled to be distinctly
-traced. I was introduced into a room that overlooked a pleasant garden,
-and which the servant called a library. It was hung with green paper,
-the carpet the same colour, green venetian blinds to the windows, a
-sopha and chairs covered with white dimity; some drawings and engravings
-hung on the walls, arranged with exact symmetry; on one side of the room
-stood a grand piano-forte, opposite to which, was a handsome book-case,
-filled with books, elegantly bound; in the middle of the apartment was
-placed a table, covered with a green cloth, on which was a reading desk,
-some books and pamphlets, with implements for writing and drawing.
-Nothing seemed costly, yet neatness, order, and taste, appeared through
-the whole apartment, bespeaking the elegant and cultivated mind of the
-owner.
-
-After amusing myself for a short time, in this charming retirement, I
-was summoned by Ann to the breakfast room, where Mrs Harley awaited
-me. I was interested, at the first glance, in favour of this amiable
-woman--she appeared to be near fifty, her person agreeable, her
-countenance animated, her address engaging, and her manners polished.
-Mutually pleased with each other, the hours passed rapidly; and, till
-reminded by a significant look from my little friend, I was unconscious,
-that I had made my visit of an unreasonable length.
-
-Mrs Harley spoke much of her son, he was the darling and the pride of
-her heart; she lamented the distance that separated them, and wished,
-that her health, and his tenderness, would allow of her residence with
-him in London. When conversing on this favourite topic, a glow enlivened
-her countenance, and her eyes sparkled with a humid brightness. I
-was affected by her maternal love--tender remembrances, and painful
-comparisons, crouded into my mind--a tear fell, that would not be
-twinkled away--she observed it, and seemed to feel its meaning; she held
-out her hand to me, I took it and pressed it to my lips. At parting,
-she entreated me speedily to renew my visit, to come often without
-ceremony--I should cheer her solitude--my sympathy, for she perceived I
-had a feeling heart, would help to console her in the absence of her
-Augustus.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-On our way home, Ann was in high spirits, congratulating herself upon
-her sagacity.
-
-'Mrs Harley,' (said she, archly leering in my face) 'will console you
-for the departure of Mr Francis.'
-
-I smiled without replying. At dinner our visit of the morning was
-canvassed (Ann had wished me to conceal it, but this I positively
-refused). Mr Morton spoke of Mrs Harley and her son with great respect,
-Mrs Morton with a sarcastic sneer, accompanied with a reprimand to her
-daughter, for the improper liberty she had taken.
-
-I quitted the table, immediately after the desert, to stifle my disgust,
-and, taking a book, wandered into the pleasure grounds, but incapable of
-fixing my attention, I presently shut my book, and, sauntering slowly
-on, indulged in a reverie. My melancholy reflections again returned--How
-could I remain in a house, where I was every day marked out for insult
-by its mistress--and where was I to dispose of myself? My fortune was
-insufficient to allow of my boarding in a respectable family. Mrs Harley
-came across my mind--Amiable woman!--Would she, indeed, accept of my
-society, and allow me to soften her solitude!--But her income was little
-less limited than my own--it must not be thought of. I reflected on the
-inequalities of society, the source of every misery and of every vice,
-and on the peculiar disadvantages of my sex. I sighed bitterly; and,
-clasping my hands together, exclaimed, unconsciously--
-
-'Whither can I go--and where shall I find an asylum?'
-
-'Allow me to propose one,' said a voice, in a soft accent, suddenly,
-behind me.
-
-I started, turned, and beheld Mr Montague. After some expressions of
-sympathy for the distress which he had witnessed, apologies for his
-intrusion, and incoherent expressions of respect and regard, he somewhat
-abruptly offered his hand and heart to my acceptance, with the impetuosity
-which accompanied all his sentiments and actions; yet, he expressed
-himself with the air of a man who believes he is conferring an obligation.
-I thanked him for his generous proposal--
-
-But, as my heart spake not in his favour--'I must be allowed to decline
-it.'
-
-'That heart,' said he, rudely, 'is already bestowed upon another.'
-
-'Certainly not, Mr Montague; if it were, I would frankly tell you.'
-
-He pronounced the name of Mr Francis--
-
-'Mr Francis is a man for whom I feel a sincere respect and veneration--a
-man whom I should be proud to call my friend; but a thought beyond that,
-I dare venture to say, has never occurred to either of us.'
-
-He knew not how to conceive--that a woman in my situation, unprepossessed,
-could reject so advantageous an establishment!
-
-This, I told him, was indelicate, both to me and to himself. Were my
-situation yet more desolate, I would not marry any man, merely for an
-_establishment_, for whom I did not feel an affection.
-
-Would I please to describe to him the model of perfection which I should
-require in a husband?
-
-It was unnecessary; as I saw no probability of the portrait bearing any
-resemblance to himself.
-
-He reddened, and turned pale, alternately; bit his lips, and muttered to
-himself.--'Damned romantic affectation!'
-
-I assumed a firmer tone--methought he insulted me.--'I beg you will
-leave me, Sir--I chuse to be alone--By what right do you intrude upon my
-retirements?'
-
-My determined accent abashed him:--he tried, but with an ill grace, to
-be humble; and entreated me to take time for consideration.
-
-'There is no need of it. It is a principle with me, not to inflict a
-moment's suspence on any human being, when my own mind is decided.'
-
-'Then you absolutely refuse me, and prefer the being exposed to the mean
-and envious insults of the vulgar mistress of this mansion!'
-
-'Of the two evils, I consider it as the least, because it involves no
-permanent obligation.'
-
-His countenance was convulsed with passion. His love, he told me, was
-converted into vengeance by my scorn: he was not to be contemned with
-impunity; and he warned me to beware.
-
-I smiled, I believe, a little too contemptuously. 'You love me not, Sir;
-I am glad, for your own sake, that you never loved me.'
-
-'My hatred may be more terrible!'
-
-'You cannot intimidate me--I am little accustomed to fear.'
-
-I turned from him somewhat disdainfully: but, instantly recollecting
-myself, I stepped back, and apologized for the harsh manner into which I
-had been betrayed by his abrupt address, vehement expostulation, and the
-previous irritated state of my mind.
-
-'I acknowledge,' said I, 'the disinterestedness of your proposal, and
-the _distinction_ which it implies. Will you allow my own wounded
-feelings to be an excuse for the too little consideration with which I
-have treated _your's_? Can you forgive me?' added I, in a conciliating
-tone, holding out my hand.
-
-The strong emotions, which rapidly succeeded each other in his mind,
-were painted in his countenance. After a moment's hesitation, he
-snatched the hand I offered him, pressed it to his lips, and, murmuring
-a few incoherent words, burst into tears. My spirits were already
-depressed--affected by these marks of his sensibility, and still more
-distressed by the recollection of the pain I had occasioned him by my
-inconsiderate behaviour, I wept with him for some minutes in silence.
-
-'Let us no more,' resumed I, making an effort to recover myself, 'renew
-these impressions. I thank you sincerely for the sympathy you have
-manifested for my situation. I am sensible that I have yielded to weak
-and wayward feelings.--I have youth, health, and activity--I ought
-not--neither do I despair.--The mortifications I have experienced, since
-my residence here, will afford me a useful lesson for the future--they
-have already taught me, what I before merely conjectured, _the value of
-independence_!'
-
-'Why, then,' interrupted he with quickness, 'do you reject an opportunity
-of placing yourself out of the reach of insult?'
-
-'Stop, my good friend,' replied I, smilingly looking in his face; 'there
-is a possibility of exchanging evils. You are yet too young, and too
-unstable, maturely to have weighed the importance of the scheme you
-propose. Remember, likewise, that you are, yourself, in a great measure,
-dependent on the will of your father; and that much reflection is
-requisite before we fetter ourselves with engagements, that, once
-entered into, are not easily dissolved.'
-
-'You allow me, then, to hope!'
-
-'Indeed I meant not to imply any such thing. I wish to soften what I
-have already expressed--but, there are a variety of reasons which oblige
-me to assure you, that I see no probability of changing my sentiments on
-the subject.'
-
-'Why, then, this cruel ostentation? I would either love or hate, bless
-or curse you.'
-
-'You shall do neither, if I can prevent it. If my esteem is of any value
-to you, you must learn to respect both me and yourself.'
-
-'Esteem!--Is that to be my frigid reward!'
-
-'If _mine_ be worthless, propose to yourself _your own_ as a
-recompense.'
-
-'I have already forfeited it, by seeking to move a heart, that triumphs
-in its cold inflexibility.'
-
-'Is this just--is it kind? Is it, indeed, _my welfare_ you seek, while
-you can thus add to the vexations and embarrassment, which were before
-sufficiently oppressive? I would preserve you from an act of precipitation
-and imprudence;--in return, you load me with unmerited reproaches. But
-it is time to put an end to a conversation, that can answer little other
-purpose than vain recrimination.'
-
-He was about to speak--'Say no more--I feel myself, again, in danger
-of losing my temper--my spirits are agitated--I would not give you
-pain--Allow me to retire, and be assured of my best wishes.'
-
-Some of the family appearing in sight, as if advancing towards us,
-favoured my retreat. I quitted the place with precipitation, and retired
-to my chamber, where I sought, by employing myself, to calm the
-perturbation of my heart.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-In a few days I renewed my visit to Mrs Harley:--a strong sympathy
-united us, and we became almost inseparable. Every day I discovered in
-this admirable woman a new and indissoluble tie, that bound me to
-her. Her cultivated understanding afforded an inexhaustible fund of
-instruction and entertainment; and her affectionate heart spread a charm
-over her most indifferent actions. We read, we walked, we conversed
-together; but, with whatever subjects these conversations commenced,
-some associated idea always led them to terminate in an eulogium on the
-virtues and talents, or an expression of regret, for the absence of
-Augustus. There was a portrait of him (drawn by a celebrated artist,
-which he had lately sent from town as a present to his mother) hung up
-in the library. I accustomed myself to gaze on this resemblance of a
-man, in whose character I felt so lively an interest, till, I fancied,
-I read in the features all the qualities imputed to the original by a
-tender and partial parent.
-
-Cut off from the society of mankind, and unable to expound my
-sensations, all the strong affections of my soul seemed concentrated to
-a single point. Without being conscious of it, my grateful love for Mrs
-Harley had, already, by a transition easy to be traced by a philosophic
-mind, transferred itself to her son. He was the St Preux, the Emilius of
-my sleeping and waking reveries. I now spent almost my whole time in the
-cottage of my friend, returning to Morton Park late in the evening, and
-quitting it early in the morning, and sometimes being wholly absent for
-weeks together.
-
-Six months thus passed away in tranquillity, with but little variation.
-Mr Montague, during this period, had several times left Mr Morton's, and
-returned again abruptly: his manners became sullen, and even, at times,
-ferocious. I carefully avoided encountering him, fearful of exasperating
-a spirit, that appeared every moment on the verge of excess.
-
-Hastening one evening to my friend, after a longer separation than
-common, (having been prevailed on by Mr Morton and his daughters to
-accompany them on a distant visit, where business of Mr Morton's
-detained us for some days) I ran into the library, as usual, and threw
-myself into the arms of Mrs Harley, that opened spontaneously to receive
-me.
-
-'Ah! you little truant,' said she, in a voice of kindness, 'where have
-you been so long? My son has visited me in your absence; he passed
-through this part of the country, in his way to the seat of a friend.
-He staid with me two days, during which I sent half a dozen messages to
-Morton Park, but you were flown away, it seems, nor could I learn any
-tidings of you. Augustus,' continued she, without observing the emotions
-she excited, 'had scarcely quitted the house an hour when you arrived.'
-
-I made no reply; an unaccountable sensation seized, and oppressed, my
-heart--sinking on the sopha, I burst into a convulsive flood of tears.
-
-My friend was struck: all the indiscretion of her conduct (as she
-has since told me) flashed suddenly into her mind; she felt that, in
-indulging her own maternal sensations, she had, perhaps, done me an
-irreparable injury, and she shuddered at the probable consequences. It
-was some moments before either of us recovered;--our conversation was
-that evening, for the first time, constrained, reserved, and painful;
-and we retired at an early hour to our respective apartments.
-
-I spent the night in self-examination. I was compelled to acknowledge,
-to myself, that solitude, the absence of other impressions, the previous
-circumstances that had operated on my character, my friendship for Mrs
-Harley, and her eloquent, affectionate, reiterated, praises of her son,
-had combined to awaken all the exquisite, though dormant, sensibilities
-of my nature; and, however romantic it might appear to others, and did
-appear even to myself, I felt, that I loved an ideal object (for such
-was Augustus Harley to me) with a tender and fervent excess; an excess,
-perhaps, involving all my future usefulness and welfare. 'People, in
-general,' says Rousseau, 'do not sufficiently consider the influence
-which the first attachments, between man and woman, have over the
-remainder of their lives; they do not perceive, that an impression so
-strong, and so lively, as that of love, is productive of a long chain of
-effects, which pass unobserved in a course of years, yet, nevertheless,
-continue to operate till the day of their deaths.' It was in vain I
-attempted to combat this illusion; my reason was but an auxiliary to
-my passion, it persuaded me, that I was only doing justice to high
-and uncommon worth; imagination lent her aid, and an importunate
-sensibility, panting after good unalloyed, completed the seduction.
-
-From this period Mrs Harley was more guarded in her conduct; she
-carefully avoided the mention of her son.--Under pretence of having an
-alteration made in the frame, she removed his picture from the library;
-but the constraint she put upon herself was too evident and painful;
-we no longer sought, with equal ardour, an interchange of sentiment,
-reserve took place of the tender confidence of friendship; a thousand
-times, while I gazed upon her dear averted countenance, I yearned to
-throw myself upon her bosom, to weep, to unfold to her the inmost
-recesses of my mind--that ingenuous mind, which languished for
-communication, and preyed upon itself! Dear and cruel friend, why did
-you transfix my heart with the barbed and envenomed arrow, and then
-refuse to administer the only healing balsam?
-
-My visits to Mrs Harley became less frequent; I shut myself up whole
-days in my apartment, at Morton Park, or wandered through its now
-leafless groves, absorbed in meditation--fostering the sickly
-sensibility of my soul, and nursing wild, improbable, chimerical,
-visions of felicity, that, touched by the sober wand of truth, would
-have 'melted into thin air.' 'The more desires I have' (observes an
-acute, and profound French Philosopher[4]) 'the less ardent they are.
-The torrents that divide themselves into many branches are the least
-dangerous in their course. A strong passion is a solitary passion, that
-concentrates all our desires within one point.'
-
-      [Footnote 4: Helvetius.]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-
-I had not seen my friend for many days, when, on a dark and stormy
-night, in the month of January, between nine and ten o'clock, the family
-at Morton Park were alarmed, by a loud and violent knocking at the hall
-door.
-
-On opening it, a servant appeared--and a chaise, the porter having
-unbolted the great gates, drew up to the door. The man delivered a note
-addressed to Miss Courtney. I was unacquainted with the handwriting, and
-unfolded it with trepidation. It contained but a few lines, written in a
-female character, and signed with the name of a lady, who resided about
-twelve miles from Morton Park, at whose house Mrs Harley sometimes made
-a visit of a few days. It stated--
-
-'That my friend was seized at the mansion of this lady with an
-apoplectic fit, from which she had been restored, after some hours
-of insensibility: that the physicians were apprehensive of a relapse,
-and that Mrs Harley had expressed a desire of seeing Miss Courtney--A
-carriage and servants were sent for her conveyance.'
-
-Mr Morton was from home, his lady made no offer of any of her own
-domestics to accompany me. Montague, who had been at the Park for some
-days past, solicited permission to be my escort. I hesitated a moment,
-and would willingly have declined this proposal, but he repeated and
-enforced it with a vehemence, that, in the present hurried state of
-my mind, I had not spirits to oppose. Shocked, alarmed, distressed, I
-wrapped a shawl round me, and sprang into the chaise. Montague stepped
-in after me, and seated himself by my side; the horses galloped, or
-rather flew down the avenue, that led to the high road.
-
-We travelled with great swiftness, and in uninterrupted silence for
-some miles: the darkness was so thick and profound, that I could not
-discover the road we took, and I began to feel very impatient to arrive
-at the place of our destination. I questioned my companion respecting
-his knowledge of our situation, and expressed an apprehension, that we
-might possibly have missed the way. He made no reply to my interrogation,
-but, starting as if from a reverie, seized my hand, while his own
-trembled with a visible agitation, and began once more to urge a suit,
-which I had hoped the steadiness and consistency of my conduct had
-induced him entirely to relinquish.
-
-'Is this a time, Mr Montague, for an address of this nature--do
-you believe, that my favour is to be gained by these proofs of
-inconsideration? Have some respect for the claims of humanity and
-friendship, and, in seeking my affection, do not forfeit my esteem.'
-
-He was about to reply, and I could perceive by the few words which he
-uttered, and by the tone of his voice, that he struggled, in vain, to
-rein in his quick and irascible spirit; when, in turning a sharp angle
-of the road, the horses took fright at some object, indistinctly seen,
-and ran precipitately down a steep hill, with a velocity that threatened
-immediate destruction.
-
-My companion, forcing open the door, seemed inclined to leap from the
-carriage, but hesitated, as if unwilling to desert me in so imminent a
-danger; I exhorted him to think only of providing for his own safety,
-and, letting down the glasses on the side on which I sat, I resigned
-myself to my fate. In springing from the chaise, by some means, Montague
-entangled his coat in the step--he fell, without clearing it, and I
-felt, with a horror that congealed my blood, the wheel go over him. In
-a few minutes, I perceived a traveller, at the risque of his own life,
-endeavouring to stop the horses--the pole of the chaise striking him
-with great force, he was obliged to relinquish his humane efforts--but
-this impediment occasioning the restive animals to turn out of the road,
-they ran furiously up a bank, and overset the carriage. I felt it going,
-and sitting, with my arms folded, close in the lower corner, fell with
-it, without attempting to struggle, by which means I escaped unhurt.
-
-The stranger, once more, came to our assistance, and, the mettle of the
-horses being now pretty well exhausted, my deliverer was enabled to cut
-the traces, and then hastened to extricate me from my perilous situation.
-It was some time before I recovered myself sufficiently to thank him for
-his humanity, and to assure him, that I had received no other injury
-than from my fears. I then mentioned to him, my apprehensions for the
-fate of my fellow traveller, entreating that he would return with me in
-search of him. With this request he immediately complied, leaving the
-horses in the care of the servants, neither of which had received any
-material hurt.
-
-We soon discovered the unfortunate Montague, lying in the road, in a
-melancholy situation: the wheel had gone over one of his legs, the bone
-of which was broken and splintered in a terrible manner, and, having
-fainted from the pain, we were at first apprehensive that he was already
-dead. Turning from this shocking spectacle, a faint sickness overspread
-my heart, the stranger supported me in his arms, while a violent burst
-of tears preserved me from swooning. My companion examining the body,
-perceived signs of life, and, by our united efforts, sense and
-recollection were soon restored.
-
-I remained with Montague while the stranger returned to the carriage, to
-enquire what damages it had received, and whether it was in a condition
-to proceed to the next village, which, the postilion informed him, was
-near two miles from the spot where the accident had happened, and we were,
-yet, five miles from the place whither we were going. The axle-tree and
-one of the hind wheels, upon examination, were found broken, the traces
-had been cut in pieces, and the horses, had the chaise been in a better
-condition, were so unmanageable, in consequence of their late fright,
-that it would have been dangerous to have attempted putting them again
-into harness.
-
-With this intelligence, our kind friend came back to us--We held a short
-consultation, on the means most proper to be adopted, and, at length it
-was determined, that, after placing Montague in the carriage, where he
-should be sheltered from the inclemency of the elements, and leaving him
-in the charge of the servants, the traveller and myself should walk
-onward to the village, and send a chaise, or litter, for the conveyance
-of our unfortunate companion.
-
-To this proposal Montague assented, at the same time, declaring it to be
-his intention, to proceed directly across the country, to the house of
-his father, which could not, he conjectured, be at any great distance,
-and where he should be assured of meeting with greater attention, and
-more skilful assistance, than at a petty inn, in a paltry village.
-Having thus adjusted our plan, and, with the help of the servants,
-carefully placed Montague in the chaise, we proceeded towards the
-village.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-
-The night was tempestuous, and, though the moon was now rising, her
-light was every moment obscured by dark clouds, discharging frequent
-and heavy showers of rain, accompanied by furious gusts of wind. After
-walking near a mile we entered upon a wide heath, which afforded no
-shelter from the weather. I perceived my companion's steps began to grow
-feeble, and his voice faint. The moon suddenly emerging from a thick
-cloud, I observed his countenance, and methought his features seemed
-familiar to me; but they were overspread by a pallid and death-like hue.
-He stopped suddenly--
-
-'I am very ill,' said he, in a tone of voice that penetrated into my
-soul, 'and can proceed no further.'
-
-He sunk upon the turf. Seating myself beside him, while his head fell
-on my shoulder, I threw around him my supporting arms. His temples were
-bedewed with a cold sweat, and he appeared to be in expiring agonies. A
-violent sickness succeeded, followed by an hemorrhage.
-
-'Gracious God!' I exclaimed, 'you have broken a blood vessel!'
-
-'I fear so,' he replied. 'I have felt strangely disordered since the
-blow I received from the pole of the carriage; but, till this moment, I
-have not been at leisure to attend to my sensations.'
-
-'Do not talk,' cried I, wildly; 'do not exhaust yourself.'
-
-Again the clouds gathered; an impetuous gust of wind swept over the
-heath, and the rain fell in torrents. Unconscious of what I did, I
-clasped the stranger to my throbbing bosom,--the coldness of death
-seemed upon him--I wrapped my shawl around him, vainly attempting
-to screen him from the piercing blast. He spake not; my terrified
-imagination already represented him as a lifeless corpse; I sat
-motionless for some minutes, in the torpor of despair.
-
-From this horrible situation, I was, at length, roused, by the sound
-of a distant team: breathless, I listened for a few moments; I again
-distinctly heard it wafted upon the wind; when, gently reclining my
-charge on the grass, I started from the ground, and ran swiftly towards
-the highway. The sound approached, and the clouds once more breaking,
-and discovering a watery moon-light gleam, I perceived, with joy, a
-waggon loaded with hay. I bounded over a part of the turf that still
-separated me from the road, and accosting the driver, explained to
-him, in a few words, as much of my situation as was necessary; and,
-entreating his assistance, allured him by the hope of a reward.
-
-We returned to my patient; he raised his head on my approach, and
-attempted to speak; but, enjoining him silence, he took my hand, and, by
-a gentle pressure, expressed his sense of my cares more eloquently than
-by words. I assisted the countryman in supporting him to the road. We
-prepared for him, in the waggon, a soft bed of hay, upon which we placed
-him; and, resting his head on my lap, we proceeded gently to the nearest
-village. On our arrival at an indifferent inn, I ordered a bed to be
-immediately prepared for him, and sent a man and horse express, to the
-next town, for medical assistance: at the same time, relating in brief
-the accidents of the night, I dispatched a carriage for the relief of
-Montague, who was conveyed, according to his wishes, to the house of his
-father.
-
-Notwithstanding all my precautions, the moving brought on a relapse of
-the alarming symptoms; the discharge of blood returned with aggravated
-violence, and, when the physician arrived, there appeared in the
-unfortunate sufferer but little signs of life; but by the application of
-styptics and cordials he once more began to revive; and, about five in
-the morning, I was prevailed on, by the joint efforts of the landlady
-and the humane Dr----, to resign my seat at the bed's head to a careful
-servant, and to recruit my exhausted strength by a few hours' repose.
-
-The vivid impressions, which had so rapidly succeeded each other in my
-mind, for some time kept me waking, in a state of feverish agitation;
-but my harrassed spirits were at length relieved by wearied nature's
-kind restorer, and I slept for four hours profoundly.
-
-On waking, my first enquiry was after my companion, in whose state I
-felt an unusual degree of interest; and I heard, with pleasure, that
-the hemorrhage had not returned; that he had rested with apparent
-tranquillity, and appeared revived. I dressed myself hastily, and
-passed into his apartment: he faintly smiled on perceiving my approach,
-and gave me his hand.--The physician had ordered him to be kept quiet,
-and I would not suffer him to speak; but, contemplating more attentively
-his countenance, which had the night before struck me with a confused
-recollection--what were my emotions, on tracing the beloved features of
-Augustus Harley! His resemblance, not only to the portrait, but to his
-mother, could not, as I thought, be mistaken. A universal trembling
-seized me--I hastened out of the apartment with tottering steps, and
-shutting myself into my chamber, a tide of melancholy emotions gushed
-upon my heart. I wept, without knowing wherefore, tears half delicious,
-half agonizing! Quickly coming to myself, I returned to the chamber of
-my patient, (now more tenderly endeared) which, officiating as a nurse
-for five days, I never quitted, except to take necessary rest and
-refreshment.
-
-I had written to Mr Morton a minute account of all that happened, merely
-suppressing the name of my deliverer: to this letter I received no reply;
-but had the pleasure of hearing, on the return of my messenger (who was
-commissioned to make enquiries), that Mrs Harley had suffered no return
-of her disorder, and was daily acquiring health and strength--I feared,
-yet, to acquaint her with the situation of her son; not only on the
-account of her own late critical situation, but, also, lest any sudden
-agitation of spirits from the arrival of his mother, might, in his
-present weak state, be fatal to Augustus.
-
-I now redoubled for him my cares and attentions: he grew hourly better;
-and, when permitted to converse, expressed in lively terms his grateful
-sense of my kindness. Ah! why did I misconstrue these emotions, so
-natural in such circumstances--why did I flatter my heart with the
-belief of a sympathy which did not, could not, exist!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-
-As my patient began to acquire strength, I demanded of him his name
-and family, that I might inform his friends of his situation. On his
-answering 'Harley,' I enquired, smiling--
-
-If he remembered hearing his mother speak of a little _Protegé_, Emma
-Courtney, whom she favoured with her partial friendship?
-
-'Oh, yes!'--and his curiosity had been strongly awakened to procure a
-sight of this lady.
-
-'Behold her, then, in your nurse!'
-
-'Is it possible!' he exclaimed, taking my hand, and pressing it with his
-lips--'My sister!--my friend!--how shall I ever pay the debt I owe you?'
-
-'We will settle that matter another time; but it is now become proper
-that I should inform your excellent mother of what has happened, which I
-have hitherto delayed, lest surprise should be prejudicial to you, and
-retard your recovery.'
-
-I then recounted to him the particulars of the late occurrences, of
-which he had before but a confused notion; adding my surprise, that I
-had neither seen, nor heard, any thing from Mr Morton.
-
-He informed me, in his turn, that, having received an express, informing
-him of his mother's alarming situation, he immediately quitted the seat
-of his friend, where he was on a visit, to hasten to her; that, for this
-purpose, riding late, he by some means bewildered himself through the
-darkness of the evening, by which mistake he encountered our chaise, and
-he hoped was, in some measure, notwithstanding the accidents which ensued,
-accessary to my preservation.
-
-I quitted him to write to my friend, whom I, at length, judged it
-necessary to acquaint with his situation. On the receipt of my letter,
-she flew to us on the wings of maternal tenderness--folded her beloved
-Augustus, and myself, alternately to her affectionate bosom, calling us
-'her children--her darling children!--I was her guardian angel--_the
-preserver of her son!_--and _he_ only could repay my goodness!' I
-ventured to raise my eyes to him--they met his--mine were humid with
-tears of tenderness: a cloud passed over his brow--he entreated his
-mother to restrain her transports--he was yet too enfeebled to bear
-these emotions. She recollected herself in an instant; and, after again
-embracing him, leaning on my arm, walked out into the air, to relieve
-the tumultuous sensations that pressed upon her heart.
-
-Once more she made me recite, minutely, the late events--strained me in
-her arms, repeatedly calling me--
-
-'Her beloved daughter--the meritorious child of her affections--the
-preserver of her Augustus!'
-
-Every word she uttered sunk deep into my soul, that greedily absorbed
-the delicious poison, prepared for me by the cruel hand of more than
-maternal fondness.
-
-I mentioned to her my having written to Mr Morton, and my astonishment
-at his silence.
-
-He had not yet returned, she informed me, to Morton Park; and intimated,
-that some malicious stories, respecting my sudden disappearance, had
-been circulated by Mrs Morton through the neighbourhood. She had herself
-been under extreme solicitude on my account. It was generally believed,
-from the turn Mrs Morton's malice had given to the affair, that I had
-eloped with Mr Montague:--the accident which had befallen him had been
-rumoured; but the circumstances, and the occasion of it, had been
-variously related. Confiding in my principles, she had waited with
-anxiety for the elucidation of these mysterious accounts; lamenting
-herself as the innocent occasion of them, yet assured they would,
-eventually, prove to my honour. She commended the magnanimity, which her
-partial friendship imputed to my behaviour, with all the enthusiasm of
-affection, and execrated the baseness of Mrs Morton, who, having
-received my letter, must have been acquainted with the real truth.
-
-Her narration gave me many complicated, and painful, sensations; but the
-good opinion of the world, however desirable it may be, as connected
-with our utility, has ever been with me but a secondary consideration.
-Confiding in the rectitude of my own conduct, I composed my spirits;
-depending on that rectitude, and time, for removing the malignant
-aspersions which at present clouded my fame. The tale of slander, the
-basis of which is falsehood, will quietly wear away; and should it
-not--how unfounded, frequently, are the censures of the world--how
-confused its judgments! I entreated my friend to say nothing, at
-present, to her son on this subject; it was yet of importance that his
-mind should be kept still and tranquil.
-
-We rejoined Augustus at the dinner hour, and spent the day together in
-harmony and friendship. The physician calling in the evening, Mrs Harley
-consulted him, whether it would be safe to remove her son, as she was
-impatient to have him under her own roof. To this the doctor made no
-objection, provided he was conveyed in an easy carriage, and by short
-stages. On Mrs Harley's thanking him for his polite and humane attention
-to his patient, smilingly pointing to me, he replied--'Her thanks were
-misplaced.' His look was arch and significant; it called a glow into
-my cheeks. I ventured, once more, to steal a glance at Augustus: his
-features were again overspread with a more than usual seriousness, while
-his eyes seemed designedly averted. Mrs Harley sighed, and, abruptly
-changing the subject, asked the physician an indifferent question, who
-soon after took his leave.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-
-In a few days we returned to the peaceful mansion of my maternal friend.
-Augustus seemed revived by the little journey, while every hour brought
-with it an increase of health and spirits. Mrs Harley would not suffer
-me to speak of going to Morton Park in the absence of its master;
-neither could Augustus spare his kind nurse:--'I must stay,' he added,
-and methought his accents were softened, 'and complete my charitable
-purpose.' My appearance again in the village, the respectability, and
-the testimony, of my friends, cleared my fame; and it was only at Morton
-Park, that any injurious suspicions were affected to be entertained.
-
-The hours flew on downy pinions:--my new _brother_, for so he would
-call himself, endeavoured to testify his gratitude, by encouraging and
-assisting me in the pursuit of learning and science: he gave us lectures
-on astronomy and philosophy--
-
-      'While truths divine came mended from his tongue.'
-
-I applied myself to the languages, and aided by my preceptor, attained
-a general knowledge of the principles, and philosophy, of criticism and
-grammar, and of the rules of composition. Every day brought with it
-the acquisition of some new truth; and our intervals from study were
-employed in music, in drawing, in conversation, in reading the _belles
-lettres_--in--
-
-      'The feast of reason, and the flow of souls.'
-
-The spring was advancing:--we now made little excursions, either on
-horseback, in a chaise, or in a boat on the river, through the adjacent
-country. The fraternal relation, which Augustus had assumed, banished
-restraint, and assisted me in deceiving myself. I drank in large and
-intoxicating draughts of a delicious poison, that had circulated through
-every vein to my heart, before I was aware of its progress. At length,
-part of a conversation, which I accidentally overheard between Mrs Harley
-and her son, recalled me to a temporary recollection.
-
-I was seeking them in the garden, towards the dusk of the evening, and a
-filbert hedge separated us. I heard the voice of my friend, as speaking
-earnestly, and I unconsciously stopped.
-
-'It would be a comfort to my declining years to see you the husband of
-a woman of virtue and sensibility: domestic affections meliorate the
-heart; no one ought to live wholly to himself.'
-
-'Certainly not, neither does any one; but, in the present state of
-society, there are many difficulties and anxieties attending these
-connections: they are a lottery, and the prizes are few. I think,
-perhaps, nearly with you, but my situation is, _in many respects,
-a peculiar one_,'--and he sighed deeply:--Need I enumerate these
-peculiarities to you? Neither do I pretend to have lived so long in
-the world without imbibing many of its prejudices, and catching the
-contagion of its habits.'
-
-'They are unworthy of you.'
-
-'Perhaps so--but we will, if you please, change the subject; this to me
-is not a pleasant one. What is become of my pupil? It is likely to be a
-clear night; let us go in, and prepare for some astronomical
-observations.'
-
-My heart reproved me for listening, I crept back to my chamber--shed
-one tear--heaved a convulsive, struggling, sigh--breathed on my
-handkerchief, applied it to my eyes, and joined my friends in the
-library.
-
-Four months had rapidly passed--'the spot of azure in the cloudy
-sky'--of my destiny. Mr Morton, I was informed, had returned to the
-Park, and Augustus, whose health was now thoroughly restored, talked of
-quitting the country. I advised with my friends, who agreed with me,
-that it was now become proper for me to visit my uncle, and, explaining
-to him the late events, justify my conduct. Mrs Harley and her son
-offered to accompany me; but this, for many reasons, I declined; taking
-my leave of them with a heavy heart, and promising, if I were not kindly
-received, an immediate return.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-
-On my arrival at Mr Morton's, the porter informed me, he was ordered
-by his lady, to deny my entrance. My swelling heart!--a sentiment of
-indignation distended it almost to suffocation.--At this moment, Anne
-tripped lightly through the court-yard, and, seeing me, ran to embrace
-me. I returned her caresses with warmth.
-
-'Ah!' said she, 'you are not, you cannot be, guilty. I have been longing
-to see you, and to hear all that has happened, but it was not permitted
-me.' She added, in a whisper, 'I cannot love my mother, for she torments
-and restrains me--my desire of liberty is stronger than my duty--but I
-shall one day be able to outwit her.'
-
-'Will not your father, my love, allow me to speak with him? I have a
-right to be heard, and I demand his attention.'
-
-'He is in his dressing-room,' said Ann, 'I will slide softly, to him,
-and tell him you are here.'
-
-Away she flew, and one of the footmen presently returned, to conduct me
-to his master. I found him alone, he received me with a grave and severe
-aspect. I related to him, circumstantially, the occurrences which had
-taken place during his absence. My words, my voice, my manner, were
-emphatic--animated with the energy of truth--they extorted, they
-commanded, they, irresistibly, compelled assent. His features softened,
-his eyes glistened, he held out his hand, he was about to speak--he
-hesitated a moment, and sighed. At this instant, Mrs Morton burst into
-the room, with the aspect of a fury--her bloated countenance yet more
-swelled and hideous--I shrunk back involuntarily--she poured forth a
-torrent of abuse and invective. A momentary recollection reassured
-me--waiting till she had exhausted her breath, I turned from her, and
-to her husband, with calm dignity--
-
-'I thank you, Sir, for all the kindness I have received from you--I am
-convinced you do me justice--_for this I do not thank you_, it was a
-duty to which I had a claim, and which you owed, not only to me, but,
-to yourself. My longer continuance in this house, I feel, would be
-improper. For the present, I return to Mrs Harley's, where I shall
-respectfully receive, and maturely weigh, any counsels with which you
-may in future think proper to favour me.'
-
-Mr Morton bowed his head; poor man! his mild spirit was overborne, he
-dared not assert the dictates of his own reason. I hurried out of
-the apartment, and hastily embracing Ann, who awaited me in the hall,
-charging myself with a hundred kisses for Mrs Harley, I took the way to
-the hospitable mansion of my friend.
-
-I had proceeded about half a mile, when I beheld Augustus, advancing
-towards me; he observed my tremulous emotions, and pallid countenance;
-he took my hand, holding it with a gentle pressure, and, throwing
-his other arm round me, supported my faultering steps. His voice
-was the voice of kindness--his words spake assurance, and breathed
-hope--_fallacious hope!_--My heart melted within me--my tremor
-encreased--I dissolved into tears.
-
-'A deserted outcast from society--a desolate orphan--what was to become
-of me--to whom could I fly?'
-
-'Unjust girl! have I then forfeited all your confidence--have you not a
-mother and a friend, who love you--' he stopped--paused--and added 'with
-maternal, with _fraternal_, tenderness? to whom would you go?--remain
-with us, your society will cheer my mother's declining years'--again
-he hesitated,--'I am about to return to town, assure me, that you will
-continue with Mrs Harley--it will soften the pain of separation.'
-
-I struggled for more fortitude--hinted at the narrowness of my fortune--at
-my wish to exert my talents in some way, that should procure me a less
-dependent situation--spoke of my active spirit--of my abhorrence of a
-life of indolence and vacuity.
-
-He insisted on my waving these subjects for the present. 'There would
-be time enough, in future, for their consideration. In the mean while,
-I might go on improving myself, and whether present or absent, might
-depend upon him, for every assistance in his power.'
-
-His soothing kindness, aided by the affectionate attentions of my
-friend, gradually, lulled my mind into tranquillity. My bosom was
-agitated, only, by a slight and sweet emotion--like the gentle
-undulations of the ocean, when the winds, that swept over its ruffled
-surface, are hushed into repose.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIV
-
-
-Another month passed away--every hour, I imbibed, in large draughts, the
-deceitful poison of hope. A few days before that appointed for the
-departure of Augustus, I received a visit from Mr Montague, of whose
-situation, during his confinement, I had made many enquiries, and it
-was with unaffected pleasure that I beheld him perfectly restored to
-health. I introduced him to my friends, who congratulated him upon his
-recovery, and treated him with that polite and cordial hospitality which
-characterized them. He was on his way to Morton Park, and was particular
-in his enquiries respecting the late conduct of the lady of the mansion,
-of which he had heard some confused reports. I could not conceal from
-him our final separation, but, aware of his inflammable temper, I
-endeavoured to soften my recital as far as was consistent with truth and
-justice. It was with difficulty, that our united persuasions induced him
-to restrain his fiery spirit, which broke out into menaces and
-execrations. I represented to him--
-
-'That every thing had been already explained; that the affair had now
-subsided; that a reconciliation was neither probable nor desirable; that
-any interference, on his part, would only tend to mutual exasperation,
-from which I must eventually be the sufferer.'
-
-I extorted from him a promise--that, as he was necessitated to meet Mr
-Morton on business, he would make no allusions to the past--I should be
-mortified, (I added) by having it supposed, that I stood in need of a
-_champion_.--Mr Morton had no doubts of the rectitude of my conduct, and
-it would be barbarous to involve him in a perpetual domestic warfare.
-
-Mr Montague, at the request of Augustus, spent that day, and the next,
-with us. I thought, I perceived, that he regarded Mr Harley with a
-scrutinizing eye, and observed my respect for, and attention to, him,
-with jealous apprehension. Before his departure, he requested half an
-hour's conversation with me alone, with which request I immediately
-complied, and withdrew with him into an adjoining compartment. He
-informed me--
-
-'That he was going to London to pursue his medical studies--that, on his
-return, his father had proposed to establish him in his profession--that
-his prospects were very favourable, and that he should esteem himself
-completely happy if he might, yet, hope to soften my heart in his
-favour, and to place me in a more assured and tranquil position.'
-
-I breathed a heavy sigh, and sunk into a melancholy reverie.
-
-'Speak to me, Emma,' said he, with impatience, 'and relieve the anxiety
-I suffer.'
-
-'Alas! What can I say?'
-
-'Say, that you will try to love me, that you will reward my faith and
-perseverance.'
-
-'Would to God, I could'--I hesitated--my eyes filled with tears--'Go to
-London,' resumed I; 'a thousand new objects will there quickly obliterate
-from your remembrance a romantic and ill-fated attachment, to which
-retirement, and the want of other impression, has given birth, and which
-owes its strength merely to opposition.'
-
-'As that opposition,' retorted he, 'is the offspring of pride and
-insensibility--'
-
-I looked at him with a mournful air--'Do not reproach me, Montague, my
-situation is far more pitiable than yours. _I am, indeed, unhappy_,'
---added I, after a pause; 'I, like you, am the victim of a raised, of, I
-fear, a distempered imagination.'
-
-He eagerly entreated me to explain myself.
-
-'I will not attempt to deceive you--I should accuse myself, were I to
-preserve any sentiment, however delicate its nature, that might tend
-to remove your present illusion. It is, I confess, with extreme
-reluctance--with real pain'--I trembled--my voice faultered, and I felt
-my colour vary--'that I constrain myself to acknowledge a hopeless, an
-extravagant'--I stopped, unable to proceed.
-
-Fire flashed from his eyes, he started from his seat, and took two or
-three hasty strides across the room.
-
-'I understand you, but too well--Augustus Harley shall dispute with me a
-prize'--
-
-'Stop, Sir, be not unjust--make not an ungenerous return to the
-confidence I have reposed in you. Respect the violence which, on your
-account, I have done to my own feelings. I own, that I have not been
-able to defend my heart against the accomplishments and high qualities
-of Mr Harley--I respected his virtues and attainments, and, by a too
-easy transition--at length--_loved his person_. But my tenderness is a
-secret to all the world but yourself--It has not met with'--a burning
-blush suffused my cheek--'It has little hope of meeting, a return. To
-your _honor_ I have confided this cherished _secret_--dare you betray my
-confidence? I know, you dare not!'
-
-He seemed affected--his mind appeared torn by a variety of conflicting
-emotions, that struggled for victory--he walked towards me, and again to
-the door, several times. I approached him--I gave him my hand--
-
-'Adieu, Montague,' said I, in a softened accent--'Be assured of my
-sympathy--of my esteem--of my best wishes! When you can meet me with
-calmness, I shall rejoice to see you--_as a friend_. Amidst some excesses,
-I perceive the seeds of real worth in your character, cultivate them,
-they may yield a noble harvest. I shall not be forgetful of the
-distinction you have shewn me, _when almost a deserted orphan_--Once
-again--farewel, my friend, and--may God bless you!'
-
-I precipitately withdrew my hand from his, and rushed out of the room. I
-retired to my chamber, and it was some hours before my spirits became
-sufficiently composed to allow me to rejoin my friends. On meeting
-them, Mrs Harley mentioned, with some surprize, the abrupt departure of
-Montague, who had quitted the house, without taking leave of its owners,
-by whom he had been so politely received.
-
-'He is a fine young man,' added she, 'but appears to be very eccentric.'
-
-Augustus was silent, but fixed his penetrating eyes on my face, with an
-expression that covered me with confusion.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXV
-
-
-The day fixed for the departure of Mr Harley, for London, now drew
-near--I had anticipated this period with the most cruel inquietude. I
-was going to lose, perhaps for ever, my preceptor, my friend! He, from
-whom my mind had acquired knowledge, and in whose presence my heart had
-rested satisfied. I had hitherto scarcely formed a wish beyond that of
-daily beholding, and listening to him--I was now to gaze on that beloved
-countenance, to listen to those soothing accents, no longer. He was
-about to mix in the gay world--to lose in the hurry of business, or of
-pleasure, the remembrance of those tender, rational, tranquil, moments,
-sacred to virtue and friendship, that had left an indelible impression
-on my heart. Could I, indeed, flatter myself, that the idea of the timid,
-affectionate, Emma, would ever recur to his mind in the tumultuous
-scenes of the crouded metropolis, it would doubtless quickly be effaced,
-and lost in the multiplicity of engagements and avocations. How should
-I, buried in solitude and silence, recall it to his recollection, how
-contrive to mingle it with his thoughts, and entangle it with his
-associations? Ah! did he but know my tenderness--_the desire of being
-beloved_, of inspiring sympathy, is congenial to the human heart--why
-should I hesitate to inform him of my affection--why do I blush and
-tremble at the mere idea? It is a false shame! It is a pernicious system
-of morals, which teaches us that hypocrisy can be virtue! He is well
-acquainted with the purity, and with the sincerity, of my heart--he will
-at least regard me with esteem and tender pity--and how often has 'pity
-melted the soul to love!' The experiment is, surely, innocent, and
-little hazardous. What I have to apprehend? Can I distrust, for a
-moment, those principles of rectitude, of honour, of goodness, which
-gave birth to my affection? Have I not witnessed his humanity, have I
-not experienced his delicacy, in a thousand instances? Though he should
-be obliged to wound, he is incapable of insulting, the heart that loves
-him; and that, loving him, believed, alas! for a long time, _that it
-loved only virtue_!
-
-The morning of our separation, at last, arrived. My friend, too much
-indisposed to attend the breakfast table, took leave of her son in her
-own apartment. I awaited him, in the library, with a beating heart, and,
-on his departure, put into his hands a paper.--
-
-'Read it not,' said I, in a low and almost inarticulate tone of voice,
-'till arrived at the end of your journey; or, at least, till you are ten
-miles from hence.'
-
-He received it in silence; but it was a silence more expressive than
-words.
-
-
-      'Suffer me,' it said, 'for a few moments, to solicit your
-      candour and attention. You are the only man in the world, to
-      whom I could venture to confide sentiments, that to many
-      would be inconceivable; and by those, who are unacquainted
-      with the human mind, and the variety of circumstances by
-      which characters are variously impressed and formed--who are
-      accustomed to consider mankind in masses--who have been used
-      to bend implicitly, to custom and prescription--the deviation
-      of a solitary individual from _rules_ sanctioned by usage, by
-      prejudice, by expediency, would be regarded as romantic. I
-      frankly avow, while my cheeks glow with the blushes of
-      _modesty_, not of shame, that your virtues and accomplishments
-      have excited in my bosom an affection, as pure as the motives
-      which gave it birth, and as animated as it is pure.--This
-      ingenuous avowal may perhaps affect, but will scarcely (I
-      suspect) surprise, you; for, incapable of dissimulation,
-      the emotions of my mind are ever but too apparent in my
-      expressions, and in my conduct, to deceive a less penetrating
-      eye than yours--neither have I been solicitous to disguise
-      them.
-
-      'It has been observed, that,' "the strength of an affection
-      is generally in the same proportion, as the character of the
-      species, in the object beloved, is lost in that of the
-      individual,"[5] and, that individuality of character is the
-      only fastener of the affections. It is certain, however
-      singular it may appear, that many months before we became
-      personally acquainted, the report of your worth and high
-      qualities had generated in my mind, an esteem and reverence,
-      which has gradually ripened into a tenderness, that has, at
-      length, mixed itself with all my associations, and is become
-      interwoven with every fibre of my heart.
-
-         [Footnote 5: Wolstonecraft's Rights of Woman.]
-
-      'I have reflected, again and again, on the imprudence of
-      cherishing an attachment, which a variety of circumstances
-      combine to render so unpromising, and--What shall I say?--So
-      peculiar is the constitution of my mind, that those very
-      circumstances have had a tendency directly opposite to what
-      might reasonably have been expected; and have only served to
-      render the sentiment, I have delighted to foster, more
-      affecting and interesting.--Yes! I am aware of the tenure
-      upon which you retain your fortunes--of the cruel and
-      unnatural conditions imposed on you by the capricious
-      testator: neither can I require a sacrifice which I am unable
-      to recompence. But while these melancholy convictions
-      deprive me of hope, they encourage me, by proving the
-      disinterestedness of my attachment, to relieve my heart by
-      communication.--Mine is a whimsical pride, which dreads
-      nothing so much as the imputation of sordid, or sinister
-      motives. Remember, then--should we never meet again--if in
-      future periods you should find, that the friendship of the
-      world is--"a shade that follows wealth and fame;"--if,
-      where you have conferred obligations, you are repaid
-      with ingratitude--where you have placed confidence, with
-      treachery--and where you have a claim to zeal, with coldness!
-      Remember, _that you have once been beloved, for yourself
-      alone_, by one, who, in contributing to the comfort of your
-      life, would have found the happiness of her own.
-
-      'Is it possible that a mind like yours, neither hardened by
-      prosperity, nor debased by fashionable levity--which vice has
-      not corrupted, nor ignorance brutalized--can be wholly
-      insensible to the balmy sweetness, which natural,
-      unsophisticated, affections, shed through the human heart?
-
-       "Shall those by heaven's own influence join'd,
-        By feeling, sympathy, and mind,
-        The sacred voice of truth deny,
-        And mock the mandate of the sky?"
-
-'But I check my pen:--I am no longer--
-
-        "The hope-flush'd enterer on the stage of life."
-
-      'The dreams of youth, chaced by premature reflection, have
-      given place to soberer, to sadder, conclusions; and while I
-      acknowledge, that it would be inexpressibly soothing to me
-      to believe, that in happier circumstances, my artless
-      affection might have awakened in your mind a sympathetic
-      tenderness:--this is the extent of my hopes!--I recollect you
-      once told me "It was our duty to make our reason conquer the
-      sensibility of our heart." Yet, why? Is, then, apathy the
-      perfection of our nature--and is not that nature refined and
-      harmonized by the gentle and social affections? The Being who
-      gave to the mind its reason, gave also to the heart its
-      sensibility.
-
-      'I make no apologies for, because I feel no consciousness of,
-      weakness. An attachment sanctioned by nature, reason, and
-      virtue, ennoble the mind capable of conceiving and cherishing
-      it: of such an attachment a corrupt heart is utterly
-      incapable.
-
-      'You may tell me, perhaps, "that the portrait on which my
-      fancy has dwelt enamoured, owes all its graces, its glowing
-      colouring--like the ideal beauty of the ancient artists--to
-      the imagination capable of sketching the dangerous
-      picture."--Allowing this, for a moment, _the sentiments it
-      inspires are not the less genuine_; and without some degree
-      of illusion, and enthusiasm, all that refines, exalts,
-      softens, embellishes, life--genius, virtue, love itself,
-      languishes. But, on this subject, my opinions have not been
-      lightly formed:--it is not to the personal graces, though
-      "the body charms, because the mind is seen," but to the
-      virtues and talents of the individual (for without intellect,
-      virtue is an empty name), that my heart does homage; and,
-      were I never again to behold you--were you even the husband
-      of another--my tenderness (a tenderness as innocent as it is
-      lively) would never cease!
-
-      'But, methinks, I hear you say,--"Whither does all this tend,
-      and what end does it propose?" Alas! this is a question I
-      scarcely dare to ask myself!--Yet, allow me to request, that
-      you will make me one promise, and resolve me one
-      question:--ah! do not evade this enquiry; for much it imports
-      me to have an explicit reply, lest, in indulging my own
-      feelings, I should, unconsciously, plant a thorn in the bosom
-      of another:--_Is your heart, at present, free?_ Or should
-      you, in future, form a tender engagement, tell me, that I
-      shall receive the first intimation of it from yourself; and,
-      in the assurance of your happiness, I will learn to forget my
-      own.
-
-      'I aspire to no higher title than that of the most faithful
-      of your friends, and the wish of becoming worthy of your
-      esteem and confidence shall afford me a motive for
-      improvement. I will learn of you moderation, equanimity, and
-      self-command, and you will, perhaps, continue to afford me
-      direction, and assistance, in the pursuit of knowledge and
-      truth.
-
-      'I have laid down my pen, again and again, and still taken it
-      up to add something more, from an anxiety, lest even you, of
-      whose delicacy I have experienced repeated proofs, should
-      misconstrue me.--"Oh! what a world is this!--into what false
-      habits has it fallen! Can hypocrisy be virtue? Can a desire
-      to call forth all the best affections of the heart, be
-      misconstrued into something too degrading for expression?"[6]
-      But I will banish these apprehensions; I am convinced they
-      are injurious.
-
-      'Yes!--I repeat it--I relinquish my pen with reluctance. A
-      melancholy satisfaction, from what source I can scarcely
-      define, diffuses itself through my heart while I unfold to
-      you its emotions.--Write to me; be _ingenuous_; I desire, I
-      call for, truth!
-
-                                                        'EMMA.'
-
-
-         [Footnote 6: Holcroft's Anna St Ives.]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVI
-
-
-I had not courage to make my friend a confident of the step I had taken;
-so wild, and so romantic, did it appear, even to myself--a false pride,
-a false shame, with-held me. I brooded in silence over the sentiment,
-that preyed on the bosom which cherished it. Every morning dawned with
-expectation, and every evening closed in disappointment. I walked
-daily to the post-office, with precipitate steps and a throbbing heart,
-to enquire for letters, but in vain; and returned slow, dejected,
-spiritless. _Hope_, one hour, animated my bosom and flushed my cheek;
-the next, pale despair shed its torpid influence through my languid
-frame. Inquietude, at length, gradually gave place to despondency, and
-I sunk into lassitude.
-
-My studies no longer afforded me any pleasure. I turned over my books,
-incapable of fixing my attention; took out my drawings, threw them
-aside; moved, restless and dissatisfied, from seat to seat; sought, with
-unconscious steps, the library, and, throwing myself on the sopha, with
-folded arms, fixed my eyes on the picture of Augustus, which had lately
-been replaced, and sunk into waking dreams of ideal perfection and
-visionary bliss. I gazed on the lifeless features, engraven on my heart
-in colours yet more true and vivid--but where was the benignant smile,
-the intelligent glance, the varying expression? Where the pleasant
-voice, whose accents had been melody in my ear; that had cheered me in
-sadness, dispelled the vapours of distrust and melancholy, and awakened
-my emulation for science and improvement? Starting from a train of
-poignant and distressing emotions, I fled from an apartment once so
-dear, presenting now but the ghosts of departed pleasures--fled into the
-woods, and buried myself in their deepest recesses; or, shutting myself
-in my chamber, avoided the sight of my friend, whose dejected
-countenance but the more forcibly reminded me--
-
-  'That such things were, and were most dear.'
-
-In this state of mind, looking one day over my papers, without any known
-end in view, I accidentally opened a letter from Mr Francis (with whom I
-still continued, occasionally, to correspond), which I had recently
-received. I eagerly seized, and re-perused, it. My spirits were weakened;
-the kindness which it expressed affected me--it touched my heart--it
-excited my tears. I determined instantly to reply to it, and to
-acknowledge my sense of his goodness.
-
-My mind was overwhelmed with the pressure of its own thoughts; a gleam
-of joy darted through the thick mists that pervaded it; communication
-would relieve the burthen. I took up my pen; and, though I dared not
-betray the fatal secret concealed, as a sacred treasure, in the bottom
-of my heart, I yet gave a loose to, I endeavoured to paint, its
-sensations.
-
-After briefly sketching the events that had driven me from Morton Park
-(of which I had not hitherto judged it necessary to inform him), without
-hinting the name of my deliverer, or suffering myself to dwell on the
-services he had rendered me, I mentioned my present temporary residence
-at the house of a friend, and expressed an impatience at my solitary,
-inactive, situation.
-
-I went on--
-
-
-      'To what purpose should I trouble you with a thousand
-      wayward, contradictory, ideas and emotions, that I am,
-      myself, unable to disentangle--which have, perhaps, floated
-      in every mind, that has had leisure for reflection--which
-      are distinguished by no originality, and which I may express
-      (though not feel) without force? I sought to cultivate my
-      understanding, and exercise my reason, that, by adding
-      variety to my resources, I might increase the number of my
-      enjoyments: for _happiness_ is, surely, the only desirable
-      _end_ of existence! But when I ask myself, Whether I am
-      yet nearer to the end proposed?--I dare not deceive
-      myself--sincerity obliges me to answer in the negative. I
-      daily perceive the gay and the frivolous, among my sex,
-      amused with every passing trifle; gratified by the insipid
-      _routine_ of heartless, mindless, intercourse; fully
-      occupied, alternately, by domestic employment, or the
-      childish vanity of varying external ornaments, and "hanging
-      drapery on a smooth block." I do not affect to despise, and
-      I regularly practise, the necessary avocations of my sex;
-      neither am I superior to their vanities. The habits acquired
-      by early precept and example adhere tenaciously; and are
-      never, perhaps, entirely eradicated. But all these are
-      insufficient to engross, to satisfy, the active, aspiring,
-      mind. Hemmed in on every side by the constitutions of
-      society, and not less so, it may be, by my own prejudices--I
-      perceive, indignantly perceive, the magic circle, without
-      knowing how to dissolve the powerful spell. While men pursue
-      interest, honor, pleasure, as accords with their several
-      dispositions, women, who have too much delicacy, sense,
-      and spirit, to degrade themselves by the vilest of all
-      interchanges, remain insulated beings, and must be content
-      tamely to look on, without taking any part in the great,
-      though often absurd and tragical, drama of life. Hence the
-      eccentricities of conduct, with which women of superior
-      minds have been accused--the struggles, the despairing
-      though generous struggles, of an ardent spirit, denied a
-      scope for its exertions! The strong feelings, and strong
-      energies, which properly directed, in a field sufficiently
-      wide, might--ah! what might they not have aided? forced
-      back, and pent up, ravage and destroy the mind which gave
-      them birth!
-
-      'Yes, I confess, _I am unhappy_, unhappy in proportion as I
-      believe myself (it may be, erringly) improved. Philosophy,
-      it is said, should regulate the feelings, but it has added
-      fervor to mine! What are passions, but another name for
-      powers? The mind capable of receiving the most forcible
-      impressions is the sublimely improveable mind! Yet, into
-      whatever trains such minds are accidentally directed, they
-      are prone to enthusiasm, while the vulgar stupidly wonder at
-      the effects of powers, to them wholly inconceivable: the
-      weak and the timid, easily discouraged, are induced, by the
-      first failure, to relinquish their pursuits. "They make the
-      impossibility they fear!" But the bold and the persevering,
-      from repeated disappointment, derive only new ardor and
-      activity. "They conquer difficulties, by daring to attempt
-      them."
-
-      'I feel, that I am writing in a desultory manner, that I am
-      unable to crowd my ideas into the compass of a letter, and,
-      that could I do so, I should perhaps only weary you. There
-      are but few persons to whom I would venture to complain, few
-      would understand, and still fewer sympathise with me. You
-      are in health, they would say, in the spring of life, have
-      every thing supplied you without labour (so much the worse)
-      nature, reason, open to you their treasures! All this is,
-      partly, true--but, with inexpressible yearnings, my soul
-      pants for something more, something higher! The morning
-      rises upon me with sadness, and the evening closes with
-      disgust--Imperfection, uncertainty, is impressed on every
-      object, on every pursuit! I am either restless or torpid, I
-      seek to-day, what to-morrow, wearies and offends me.
-
-      'I entered life, flushed with hope--I have proceeded but a
-      few steps, and the parterre of roses, viewed in distant
-      prospect, nearer seen, proves a brake of thorns. The few
-      worthy persons I have known appear, to me, to be struggling
-      with the same half suppressed emotions.--Whence is all this?
-      Why is intellect and virtue so far from conferring happiness?
-      Why is the active mind a prey to the incessant conflict
-      between truth and error? Shall I look beyond the disorders
-      which, _here_, appear to me so inexplicable?--shall I
-      expect, shall I demand, from the inscrutable Being to whom I
-      owe my existence, in future unconceived periods, the _end_
-      of which I believe myself capable, and which capacity, like
-      a tormenting _ignis fatuus_, has hitherto served only to
-      torture and betray? The animal rises up to satisfy the
-      cravings of nature, and lies down to repose, undisturbed by
-      care--has man superior powers, only to make him pre-eminently
-      wretched?--wretched, it seems to me, in proportion as he
-      rises? Assist me, in disentangling my bewildered ideas--write
-      to me--reprove me--spare me not!
-
-                                                         'EMMA.'
-
-
-To this letter I quickly received a kind and consolatory reply, though
-not unmingled with the reproof I called for. It afforded me but a
-temporary relief, and I once more sunk into inanity; my faculties rusted
-for want of exercise, my reason grew feeble, and my imagination morbid.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVII
-
-
-A pacquet of letters, at length, arrived from London--Mrs Harley, with
-a look that seemed to search the soul, put one into my hands--The
-superscription bore the well known characters--yes, it was from
-Augustus, and addressed to Emma--I ran, with it, into my chamber, locked
-myself in, tore it almost asunder with a tremulous hand, perused its
-contents with avidity--scarce daring to respire--I reperused it again
-and again.
-
-
-      'I had trusted my confessions' (it said) 'to one who had
-      made the human heart his study, who could not be affected
-      by them improperly. It spoke of the illusions of the
-      passions--of the false and flattering medium through which
-      they presented objects to our view. He had answered my
-      letter earlier, had it not involved him in too many thoughts
-      to do it with ease. There was a great part of it to which he
-      knew not how to reply--perhaps, on some subjects, it was not
-      necessary to be explicit. And now, it may be, he had better
-      be silent--he was dissatisfied with what he had written,
-      but, were he to write again, he doubted if he should please
-      himself any better.--He was highly flattered by the
-      favourable opinion I entertained of him, it was a grateful
-      proof, not of his merit, but of the warmth of my friendship,
-      &c. &c.'
-
-
-This letter appeared to me vague, obscure, enigmatical. Unsatisfied,
-disappointed, I felt, I had little to hope--and, yet, had no _distinct_
-ground of fear. I brooded over it, I tortured its meaning into a hundred
-forms--I spake of it to my friend, but in general terms, in which she
-seemed to acquiesce: she appeared to have made a determination, not to
-enquire after what I was unwilling to disclose; she wholly confided
-both in my principles, and in those of her son: I was wounded by what,
-entangled in prejudice, I conceived to be a necessity for this reserve.
-
-Again I addressed the man, whose image, in the absence of all other
-impressions, I had suffered to gain in my mind this dangerous
-ascendency.
-
-
-      TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY.
-
-      'I, once more, take up my pen with a mind so full of
-      thought, that I foresee I am about to trespass on your time
-      and patience--yet, perhaps, to one who makes "the human
-      heart his study," it may not be wholly uninteresting to
-      trace a faithful delineation of the emotions and sentiments
-      of an ingenuous, uncorrupted, mind--a mind formed by
-      solitude, and habits of reflection, to some strength of
-      character.
-
-      'If to have been more guarded and reserved would have been
-      more discreet, I have already forfeited all claim to this
-      discretion--to affect it now, would be vain, and, by
-      pursuing a middle course, I should resign the only advantage
-      I may ever derive from my sincerity, the advantage of
-      expressing my thoughts and feelings with freedom.
-
-      'The conduct, which I have been led to adopt, has been the
-      result of a combination of peculiar circumstances, _and is
-      not what I would recommend to general imitation_--To say
-      nothing of the hazards it might involve, I am aware,
-      generally speaking, arguments might be adduced, to prove,
-      that certain customs, of which I, yet, think there is reason
-      to complain, may not have been unfounded in nature--I am led
-      to speak thus, because I am not willing to spare myself, but
-      would alledge all which you might have felt inclined to
-      hint, had you not been with-held by motives of delicate
-      consideration.
-
-      'Of what then, you may ask, do I complain?--Not of the laws
-      of nature! But when mind has given dignity to natural
-      affections; when reason, culture, taste, and delicacy, have
-      combined to chasten, to refine, to exalt (shall I say) to
-      sanctity them--Is there, then, no cause to complain of rigor
-      and severity, that such minds must either passively submit
-      to a vile traffic, or be content to relinquish all the
-      endearing sympathies of life? Nature has formed woman
-      peculiarly susceptible of the tender affections. "The voice
-      of nature is too strong to be silenced by artificial
-      precepts." To feel these affections in a supreme degree,
-      a mind enriched by literature and expanded by fancy
-      and reflection, is necessary--for it is intellect and
-      imagination only, that can give energy and interest to--
-
-        "The thousand soft sensations--
-         Which vulgar souls want faculties to taste,
-         Who take their good and evil in the gross."
-
-      'I wish we were in the vehicular state, and that you
-      understood the sentient language;[7] you might then
-      comprehend the whole of what I mean to express, but find too
-      delicate for _words_. But I do you injustice.
-
-         [Footnote 7: See Light of Nature pursued. An entertaining
-         philosophical work.]
-
-      'If the affections are, indeed, generated by sympathy, where
-      the principles, pursuits, and habits, are congenial--where
-      the _end_, sought to be attained, is--
-
-        "Something, than beauty dearer,"
-
-      'You may, perhaps, agree with me, that it is almost
-      indifferent on which side the sentiment originates. Yet, I
-      confess, my frankness has involved me in many after thoughts
-      and inquietudes; inquietudes, which all my reasoning is, at
-      times, insufficient to allay. The shame of being singular,
-      it has been justly observed,[8] requires strong principles,
-      and much native firmness of temper, to surmount.--Those who
-      deviate from the beaten track must expect to be entangled in
-      the thicket, and wounded by many a thorn--my wandering feet
-      have already been deeply pierced.
-
-         [Footnote 8: Aikin's Letters.]
-
-      'I should vainly attempt to describe the struggles, the
-      solicitudes, the doubts, the apprehensions, that alternately
-      rend my heart! I feel, that I have "put to sea upon a
-      shattered plank, and placed my trust in miracles for
-      safety." I dread, one moment, lest, in attempting to awaken
-      your tenderness, I may have forfeited your respect; the
-      next, that I have mistaken a delusive meteor for the sober
-      light of reason. In retirement, numberless contradictory
-      emotions revolve in my disturbed mind:--in company, I start
-      and shudder from accidental allusions, in which no one but
-      myself could trace any application. The end of doubt is the
-      beginning of repose. Say, then, to me, that it is a
-      principle in human nature, however ungenerous, to esteem
-      lightly what may be attained without difficulty.--Tell me to
-      make distinctions between love and friendship, of which I
-      have, hitherto, been able to form no idea.--Say, that the
-      former is the caprice of fancy, founded on external graces,
-      to which I have little pretension, and that it is vain to
-      pretend, that--
-
-        "Truth and good are one,
-         And beauty dwells with them."
-
-      'Tell me, that I have indulged too long the wild and
-      extravagant chimeras of a romantic imagination. Let us walk
-      together into the palace of Truth, where (it is fancifully
-      related by an ingenious writer,[9] that) every one was
-      compelled by an irresistible, controuling, power, to reveal
-      his inmost sentiments! All this I will bear, and will still
-      respect your integrity, and confide in your principles; but
-      I can no longer sustain a suspense that preys upon my
-      spirits. It is not the Book of Fate--it is your mind, only,
-      I desire to read. A sickly apprehension overspreads my
-      heart--I pause here, unable to proceed.'
-
-                                                         'EMMA.'
-
-
-         [Footnote 9: Madame de Genlis's Tales of the Castle.]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVIII
-
-
-Week after week, month after month, passed away in the anguish of
-vain expectation: my letter was not answered, and I again sunk into
-despondency.--Winter drew near. I shuddered at the approach of this
-dreary and desolate season, when I was roused by the receipt of a letter
-from one of the daughters of the maternal aunt, under whose care I had
-spent the happy, thoughtless, days of childhood. My cousin informed me--
-
-
-      'That she had married an officer in the East India service;
-      that soon after their union he was ordered abroad, and
-      stationed in Bengal for three years, during which period she
-      was to remain in a commodious and pleasant house, situated
-      in the vicinity of the metropolis. She had been informed of
-      my removal from Morton Park, and had no doubt but I should
-      be able to give a satisfactory account of the occasion of
-      that removal. She purposed, during the absence of her husband,
-      to let out a part of her house; and should I not be fixed
-      in my present residence, would be happy to accommodate me
-      with an apartment, on terms that should be rather dictated
-      by friendship than interest. She also hinted, that a
-      neighbouring lady, of respectable character, would be glad to
-      avail herself of the occasional assistance of an accomplished
-      woman in the education of her daughters; that she had
-      mentioned me to her in advantageous terms, conceiving that I
-      should have no objection, by such a means, to exercise my
-      talents, to render myself useful, and to augment my small
-      income.'
-
-
-This intelligence filled me with delight: the idea of change, of
-exertion, of new scenes--shall I add, _of breathing the same air with
-Augustus_, rushed tumultuously through my imagination. Flying eagerly to
-my friend, to impart these tidings, I was not aware of the ungrateful
-and inconsiderate appearance which these exultations must give me in her
-eyes, till I perceived the starting tear.--It touched, it electrified,
-my heart; and, throwing myself into her arms, I caught the soft
-contagion, and wept aloud.
-
-'Go, Emma--my daughter,' said this excellent woman; 'I banish the
-selfish regret that would prompt me to detain you. I perceive this
-solitude is destructive to thy ardent mind. Go, vary your impressions,
-and expand your sensations; gladden me only from time to time with an
-account of your progress and welfare.'
-
-I had but little preparation to make. I canvassed over, with my friend,
-a thousand plans, and formed as many expectations and conjectures; but
-they all secretly tended to one point, and concentrated in one object. I
-gave my cousin notice that I should be with her in a few days--settled
-a future correspondence with my friend--embraced her, at parting, with
-unfeigned, and tender, sorrow--and, placing myself in a stage-coach,
-that passed daily through the village, took the road, once more, with
-a fluttering heart, to London. We travelled all night--it was cold and
-dreary--but my fancy was busied with various images, and my bosom
-throbbing with lively, though indistinct sensations.
-
-The next day, at noon, I arrived, without accident, at the residence of
-my relation, Mrs Denbeigh. She received me with unaffected cordiality:
-our former amity was renewed; we spent the evening together, recalling
-past scenes; and, on retiring, I was shewn into a neat chamber, which
-had been prepared for me, with a light closet adjoining. The next day,
-I was introduced to the lady, mentioned to me by my kind hostess, and
-agreed to devote three mornings in the week to the instruction of the
-young ladies (her daughters), in various branches of education.
-
-
-
-
-_Memoirs of Emma Courtney_
-
-
-
-
-VOLUME II
-
-
-
-
-TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY
-
-
-      'My friend, my son, it is for your benefit, that I have
-      determined on reviewing the sentiments, and the incidents,
-      of my past life. Cold declamation can avail but little
-      towards the reformation of our errors. It is by tracing, by
-      developing, the passions in the minds of others; tracing
-      them, from the seeds by which they have been generated,
-      through all their extended consequences, that we learn, the
-      more effectually, to regulate and to subdue our own.
-
-      'I repeat, it will cost me some pain to be ingenuous in the
-      recital which I have pledged myself to give you; even in the
-      moment when I resume my pen, prejudice continues to struggle
-      with principle, and I feel an inclination to retract. While
-      unfolding a series of error and mortification, I tremble,
-      lest, in warning you to shun the rocks and quicksands amidst
-      which my little bark has foundered, I should forfeit your
-      respect and esteem, the pride, and the comfort, of my
-      declining years. But you are deeply interested in my
-      narrative, you tell me, and you entreat me to proceed.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-
-Change of scene, regular employment, attention to my pupils, and the
-conscious pride of independence, afforded a temporary relief to my
-spirits. My first care, on my arrival in town, was to gladden the mind
-of my dear benefactress, by a minute detail of the present comforts and
-occupations.
-
-She had charged me with affectionate remembrance and letters to her son.
-I enclosed these letters; and, after informing him (in the cover) of
-the change of my situation, and the incident which had occasioned it,
-complained of the silence he had observed towards my last letter.
-
-
-      --'If,' said I, 'from having observed the social and
-      sympathetic nature of our feelings and affections, I
-      suffered myself to yield, involuntarily, to the soothing
-      idea, that the ingenuous avowal of an attachment so tender,
-      so sincere, so artless, as mine, could not have been
-      unaffecting to a mind with which my own proudly claimed
-      kindred:--if I fondly believed, that simplicity, modesty,
-      truth--the eye beaming with sensibility, the cheek mantling
-      with the glow of affection, the features softened, the
-      accents modulated, by ineffable tenderness, might, in the
-      eyes of a virtuous man, have supplied the place of more
-      dazzling accomplishments, and more seductive charms: if I
-      over-rated my own merit, and my own powers--surely my
-      mistakes were sufficiently humiliating! You should not,
-      indeed you should not, have obliged me to arrive at the
-      conviction through a series of deductions so full of
-      mortification and anguish. You are too well acquainted with
-      the human heart not to be sensible, that no certainty can
-      equal the misery of conjecture, in a mind of ardour--the
-      agonizing images which _suspense_ forces upon the tender
-      and sensible heart! You should have written, in pity to the
-      situation of my mind. I would have thanked you for being
-      ingenuous, even though, like Hamlet, you had _spoke
-      daggers_. I expected it, from your character, and I had a
-      claim to your sincerity.
-
-      'But it is past!--the vision is dissolved! The barbed arrow
-      is not extracted with more pain, than the enchantments of
-      hope from the ardent and sanguine spirit! But why am I to
-      lose your friendship? My heart tells me, I have not deserved
-      this! Do not suspect, that I have so little justice, or so
-      little magnanimity, as to refuse you the privilege, the
-      enviable privilege, of being master of your own affections.
-      I am unhappy, I confess; the principal charm of my life is
-      fled, and the hopes that should enliven future prospects are
-      faint: melancholy too often obscures reason, and a heart,
-      perhaps too tender, preys on itself.
-
-      'I suspect I had formed some vain and extravagant
-      expectations. I could have loved you, had you permitted it,
-      with no mean, nor common attachment.--My words, my looks, my
-      actions, betrayed me, ere I suffered my feelings to dictate
-      to my pen. Would to God, I had buried this fatal secret in
-      the bottom of my soul! But repentance is, now, too late. Yet
-      the sensible heart yearns to disclose itself--and to whom
-      can it confide its sentiments, with equal propriety, as to
-      him who will know how to pity the errors, of which he feels
-      himself, however involuntarily, the cause? The world might
-      think my choice in a confident singular; it has been my
-      misfortune seldom to think with the world, and I ought,
-      perhaps, patiently to submit to the inconveniences to which
-      this singularity has exposed me.
-
-      'I know not how, without doing myself a painful violence, to
-      relinquish your society; and why, let me again ask, should
-      I? I now desire only that repose which is the end of doubt,
-      and this, I think, I should regain by one hour's frank
-      conversation with you; I would compose myself, listen to
-      you, and yield to the sovereignty of reason. After such an
-      interview, my mind--no longer harrassed by vague suspicion,
-      by a thousand nameless apprehensions and inquietudes--should
-      struggle to subdue itself--at least, I would not permit it
-      to dictate to my pen, not to bewilder my conduct. I am
-      exhausted by perturbation. I ask only certainty and rest.
-
-                                                           'EMMA.'
-
-
-A few days after I had written the preceding letter, Mr Harley called on
-me. Mrs Denbeigh was with me on his entrance; I would have given worlds
-to have received him alone, but had not courage to hint this to my
-relation. Overwhelmed by a variety of emotions, I was unable for some
-time to make any reply to his friendly enquiries after my health, and
-congratulations on my amended prospects. My confusion and embarrassment
-were but too apparent; perceiving my distress, he kindly contrived to
-engage my hostess in discourse, that I might have time to rally my
-spirits. By degrees, I commanded myself sufficiently to join in the
-conversation--I spoke to him of his mother, expressed the lively sense
-I felt of her goodness, and my unaffected regret at parting with her.
-Animated by my subject, and encouraged by the delicacy of Augustus, I
-became more assured: we retraced the amusements and studies of H----shire,
-and two hours passed delightfully and insensibly away, when Mrs Denbeigh
-was called out of the room to speak to a person who brought her letters
-and intelligence from the India House. Mr Harley, rising at the same
-time from his seat, seemed about to depart, but hesitating, stood a few
-moments as if irresolute.
-
-'You leave me,' said I, in a low and tremulous tone, 'and you leave me
-still in suspense?'
-
-'Could you,' replied he, visibly affected, 'but have seen me on the
-receipt of your last letter, you would have perceived that my feelings
-were not enviable--Your affecting expostulation, added to other
-circumstances of a vexatious nature, oppressed my spirits with a burthen
-more than they were able to sustain.'
-
-He resumed his seat, spoke of his situation, of the tenure on which
-he held his fortune,--'I am neither a stoic nor a philosopher,' added
-he,--'I knew not how--_I could not answer your letter_. What shall
-I say?--I am with-held from explaining myself further, by reasons
---_obligations_--Who can look back on every action of his past life
-with approbation? Mine has not been free from error! I am distressed,
-perplexed--_Insuperable obstacles_ forbid what otherwise'--
-
-'I feel,' said I, interrupting him, 'that I am the victim of my own
-weakness and vanity--I feel, that I have been rushing headlong into
-the misery which you kindly sought to spare me--I am sensible of your
-delicacy--of your humanity!--And is it with the full impression of
-your virtues on my heart that I must teach that heart to renounce
-you--renounce, for ever, the man with whose pure and elevated mind my
-own panted to mingle? My reason has been blinded by the illusions of my
-self-love--and, while I severely suffer, I own my sufferings just--yet,
-the sentiments you inspired were worthy of you! I understand little
-of--I have violated common forms--seeking your tenderness, I have
-perhaps forfeited your esteem!'
-
-'Far, _very far_, from it--I would, but cannot, say more.'
-
-'Must we, then, separate for ever--will you no longer assist me in the
-pursuit of knowledge and truth--will you no more point out to me the
-books I should read, and aid me in forming a just judgment of the
-principles they contain--Must all your lessons be at an end--all my
-studies be resigned? How, without your counsel and example, shall I
-regain my strength of mind--to what _end_ shall I seek to improve
-myself, when I dare no longer hope to be worthy of him--'
-
-A flood of tears checked my utterance; hiding my face with my hands,
-I gave way to the kindly relief, but for which my heart had broken.
-I heard footsteps in the passage, and the voice of Mrs Denbeigh as
-speaking to her servant--covered with shame and grief, I dared not in
-this situation appear before her, but, rushing out at an opposite door,
-hid myself in my chamber. A train of confused recollections tortured
-my mind, I concluded, that Augustus had another, a prior attachment.
-I felt, with this conviction, that I had not the fortitude, and that
-perhaps I ought not, to see him again. I wrote to him under this
-impression; I poured out my soul in anguish, in sympathy, in fervent
-aspirations for his happiness. These painful and protracted conflicts
-affected my health, a deep and habitual depression preyed upon my
-spirits, and, surveying every object through the medium of a distempered
-imagination, I grew disgusted with life.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-
-I began, at length, to think, that I had been too precipitate, and
-too severe to myself.--Why was I to sacrifice a friend, from whose
-conversation I had derived improvement and pleasure? I repeated this
-question to myself, again and again; and I blushed and repented. But
-I deceived myself. I had too frequently acted with precipitation, I
-determined, now, to be more prudent--I waited three months, fortified
-my mind with many reflections, and resumed my pen--
-
-
-      TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY.
-
-      'Near three months have elapsed, since I last addressed you.
-      I remind you of this, not merely to suppress, as it arises,
-      any apprehension which you may entertain of further
-      embarrassment or importunity: for I can no longer afflict
-      myself with the idea, that my peace, or welfare, are
-      indifferent to you, but will rather adopt the sentiment of
-      Plato--who on being informed, that one of his disciples,
-      whom he had more particularly distinguished, had spoken ill
-      of him, replied, to the slanderer--"I do not believe you,
-      for it is impossible that I should not be esteemed by one
-      whom I so sincerely regard."
-
-      'My motive, for calling to your remembrance the date of my
-      last, is, that you should consider what I am now about to
-      say, as the result of calmer reflection, the decision of
-      judgment after having allowed the passions leisure to
-      subside. It is, perhaps, unnecessary to premise, that I am
-      not urged on by pride, from an obscure consciousness of
-      having been betrayed into indiscretion, to endeavour to
-      explain away, or to extenuate, any part of my former
-      expressions or conduct. To a mind like yours, such an
-      attempt would be impertinent; from one like mine, I hope,
-      superfluous. I am not ashamed of being a human being, nor
-      blush to own myself liable to "the shakes and agues of his
-      fragile nature." I have ever spoken, and acted, from the
-      genuine dictates of a mind swayed, at the time, by its own
-      views and propensities, nor have I hesitated, as those
-      views and propensities have changed, to avow my further
-      convictions--"Let not the coldly wise exult, that their
-      heads were never led astray by their hearts." I have all
-      along used, and shall continue to use, the unequivocal
-      language of sincerity.
-
-      'However _romantic_ (a vague term applied to every thing we
-      do not understand, or are unwilling to intimate) my views
-      and sentiments might appear to many, I dread not, from you,
-      this frigid censure. "The ideas, the associations, the
-      circumstances of each man are properly his own, and it is a
-      pernicious system, that would lead us to require all men,
-      however different their circumstances, to act in many of the
-      common affairs of life, by a precise, general rule."[10]
-      The genuine effusions of the heart and mind are easily
-      distinguished, by the penetrating eye, from the vain
-      ostentation of sentiment, lip deep, which, causing no
-      emotion, communicates none--Oh! how unlike the energetic
-      sympathies of truth and feeling--darting from mind to mind,
-      enlightening, warming, with electrical rapidity!
-
-         [Footnote 10: Godwin's Political Justice.]
-
-      'My ideas have undergone, in the last three months, many
-      fluctuations. My _affection_ for you (why should I seek
-      for vague, inexpressive phrases?) has not ceased, has not
-      diminished, but it has, in some measure, changed its nature.
-      It was originally generated by the report, and cemented by
-      the knowledge, of your virtues and talents; and to virtue
-      and talents my mind had ever paid unfeigned, enthusiastic,
-      homage! It is somewhere said by Rousseau--"That there may
-      exist such a suitability of moral, mental, and personal,
-      qualifications, as should point out the propriety of an
-      union between a prince and the daughter of an executioner."
-      Vain girl that I was! I flattered myself that between us
-      this sympathy really existed. I dwelt on the union between
-      mind and mind--sentiments of nature gently insinuated
-      themselves--my sensibility grew more tender, more
-      affecting--and my imagination, ever lively, traced the
-      glowing picture, and dipped the pencil in rainbow tints!
-      Possessing one of those determined spirits, that is not
-      easily induced to relinquish its purposes--while I conceived
-      that I had only your pride, or your insensibility, to
-      combat, I wildly determined to persevere.--A further
-      recapitulation would, perhaps, be unnecessary:--my
-      situation, alas! is now changed.
-
-      'Having then examined my heart, attentively and
-      deliberately, I suspect that I have been unjust to
-      myself, in supposing it incapable of a disinterested
-      attachment.--Why am I to deprive you of a faithful friend,
-      and myself of all the benefits I may yet derive from your
-      conversation and kind offices? I ask, why? And I should,
-      indeed, have cause to blush, if, after having had time for
-      reflection, I could really think this necessary. Shall I,
-      then, sign the unjust decree, that women are incapable of
-      energy and fortitude? Have I exercised my understanding,
-      without ever intending to apply my principles to practice?
-      Do I mean always to deplore the prejudices which have,
-      systematically, weakened the female character, without
-      making any effort to rise above them? Is the example
-      you have given me, of a steady adherence to honour and
-      principle, to be merely respected, without exciting in my
-      bosom any emulation? Dare I to answer these questions in the
-      affirmative, and still ask your esteem--the esteem of the
-      wise and good?--I dare not! No longer weakened by alternate
-      hopes and fears, like the reed yielding to every breeze, I
-      believe myself capable of acting upon firmer principles;
-      and I request, with confidence, the restoration of your
-      friendship! Should I afterwards find, that I have over-rated
-      my own strength, I will frankly tell you so, and expect
-      from your humanity those allowances, which are but a poor
-      substitute for respect.
-
-      'Believe, then, my views and motives to be simply such as I
-      state them; at least, such, after severely scrutinizing my
-      heart, they appear to myself; and reply to me with similar
-      ingenuousness. My expectations are very moderate: answer me
-      with simplicity--my very soul sickens at evasion! You have
-      undoubtedly, a right to judge and to determine for yourself;
-      but it will be but just to state to me the reasons for, and
-      the result of, that judgment; in which case, if I cannot
-      obviate those reasons, I shall be bound, however reluctantly,
-      to acquiesce in them. Be assured, I will never complain of
-      any consequences which may ensue, even, from the utterance
-      of all truth.
-
-                                                          'EMMA.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-
-This letter was succeeded by a renewal of our intercourse and studies.
-Mrs Denbeigh, my kind hostess, was usually of our parties. We read
-together, or conversed only on general topics, or upon subjects of
-literature. I was introduced by Mr Harley to several respectable
-families, friends of his own and of his mother's. I made many indirect
-enquiries of our common acquaintance, with a view to discover the
-supposed object of my friend's attachment, but without success. All that
-he had, himself, said, respecting such an engagement, had been so vague,
-that I began to doubt of the reality of its existence.--When, in any
-subsequent letters (for we continued occasionally to correspond) I
-ventured to allude to the subject, I was warned 'not to confound my own
-conceptions with real existences.' When he spoke of a susceptibility
-to the tender affections, it was always in the past time,--'I _have_
-felt,'--'I _have_ been--'Once he wrote--'His situation had been rendered
-difficult, by a combination of _peculiar circumstances_; circumstances,
-with which but few persons were acquainted.' Sometimes he would affect
-to reflect upon his past conduct, and warn me against appreciating him
-too highly. In fine, he was a perfect enigma, and every thing which he
-said or wrote tended to increase the mystery.
-
-A restless, an insatiable, curiosity, devoured me, heightened by
-feelings that every hour became more imperious, more uncontroulable.
-I proposed to myself, in the gratification of this curiosity, a
-satisfaction that should compensate for all the injuries I might suffer
-in the career. This inquietude prevented my mind from resting; and, by
-leaving room for conjecture, left room for the illusions of fancy, and
-of hope. Had I never expressed this, he might have affected ignorance of
-my sensations; he might have pleaded guiltless, when, in the agony of
-my soul, I accused him of having sacrificed my peace to his
-disingenuousness--but vain were all my expostulations!
-
-'If,' said I, 'I have sought, too earnestly, to learn the state of your
-affections, it has been with a view to the more effectually disciplining
-of my own--of stifling every _ignis fatuus_ of false hope, that making,
-even, impossibilities possible, will still, at times, continue to mislead
-me. Objects seen through obscurity, imperfectly discerned, allow to the
-fancy but too free a scope; the mind grows debilitated, by brooding over
-its apprehensions; and those apprehensions, whether real or imaginary,
-are carried with accumulated pain to the heart. I have said, on this
-subject, you have a right to be free; but I am, now, doubtful of this
-right: the health of my mind being involved in the question, has
-rendered it a question of _utility_--and on what other basis can morals
-rest?'
-
-I frequently reiterated these reasonings, always with encreased fervor
-and earnestness: represented--'that every step I took in advance would
-be miles in return--every minute that the blow was suspended, prepared
-it to descend with accumulated force.' I required no particulars, but
-merely requested to be assured of _a present, existing, engagement_. I
-continued, from time to time, to urge this subject.
-
-
-      'Much,' said I, 'as I esteem you, and deeply as a thousand
-      associations have fixed your idea in my heart--in true
-      candour of soul, I, yet, feel myself your superior.--I
-      recollect a sentiment of Richardson's Clarissa that always
-      pleased me, and that may afford a test, by which each of us
-      may judge of the integrity of our own minds--"I should be
-      glad that you, and all the world, knew my heart; let my
-      enemies sit in judgment upon my actions; fairly scanned,
-      I fear not the result. Let them ask me my most secret
-      thoughts; and, whether they make for me, or against me, I
-      will reveal them."
-
-      'This is the principle, my friend, upon which I have acted
-      towards you. I have said many things, I doubt not, which
-      make against me; but I trusted them to one, who told me,
-      that he had made the human heart his study: and it is only
-      in compliance with the prejudices of others, if I have taken
-      any pains to conceal all I have thought and felt on this,
-      or on any other, subject, from the rest of the world. Had I
-      not, in the wild career of fervent feeling, had sufficient
-      strength of mind to stop short, and to reason calmly, how
-      often, in the bitterness of my spirit, should I have accused
-      you of sporting with my feelings, by involving me in a
-      hopeless maze of conjecture--by leaving me a prey to the
-      constant, oppressive, apprehension of hearing something,
-      which I should not have had the fortitude to support with
-      dignity; which, in proportion as it is delayed, still
-      contributes to harrass, to weaken, to incapacitate, my mind
-      from bearing its disclosure.
-
-      'I know you might reply--and more than nine-tenths of the
-      world would justify you in this reply--"That you had already
-      said, what ought to have been sufficient, and would have
-      been so to any other human being;--that you had not sought
-      the confidence I boast of having reposed in you;--and
-      that so far from affording you any satisfaction, it has
-      occasioned you only perplexity. If my own destiny was not
-      equivocal, of what importance could it be to me, and what
-      right had I to enquire after circumstances, in which,
-      however affecting, I could have no real concern."
-
-      'You may think all this, perhaps--I will not spare
-      myself--and it may be reasonable. _But could you say
-      it_--and have you, indeed, studied the human heart--_have
-      you, indeed, ever felt the affections?_--Whatever may be the
-      event--and it is in the mind of powers only that passions
-      are likely to become fatal--and however irreproachable every
-      other part of your conduct may have been, I shall, _here_,
-      always say, you were culpable!'
-
-
-I changed my style.
-
-
-      'I know not,' said I, 'the nature of those stern duties,
-      which oblige you to with-hold from me your tenderness;
-      neither do I any longer enquire. I dread, only, lest I
-      should acquire this knowledge when I am the least able to
-      support it. Ignorant, then, of any reasons which should
-      prevent me from giving up my heart to an attachment, now
-      become interwoven with my existence, I yield myself up to
-      these sweet and affecting emotions, so necessary to my
-      disposition--to which apathy is abhorrent. "The affections
-      (truly says Sterne) must be exercised on something; for, not
-      to love, is to be miserable. Were I in a desart, I would
-      find out wherewith in it to call forth my affections. If I
-      could do no better, I would fasten them upon some sweet
-      myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself
-      to--I would court their shade, and greet them kindly for
-      their protection. I would cut my name upon them, and swear
-      they were the loveliest trees throughout the desart. If
-      their leaves withered, I would teach myself to mourn; and,
-      when they rejoiced, I would rejoice with them."
-
-      'An attachment, founded upon a full conviction of worth,
-      must be both safe and salutary. My mind has not sufficient
-      strength to form an abstract idea of perfection. I have ever
-      found it stimulated, improved, advanced, by its affections.
-      I will, then, continue to love you with fervor and purity; I
-      will see you with joy, part from you with regret, grieve in
-      your griefs, enter with zeal into your concerns, interest
-      myself in your honour and welfare, and endeavour, with
-      all my little power, to contribute to your comfort and
-      satisfaction.--Is your heart so differently constituted from
-      every other human heart, that an affection, thus ardent and
-      sincere, excites in it no grateful, and soothing, emotions?
-      Why, then, withdraw yourself from me, and by that means
-      afflict, and sink into despondency, a mind that entrusts its
-      peace to your keeping.
-
-                                                           'EMMA.'
-
-
-We met the next day at the house of a common friend. My accents,
-involuntarily, were softened, my attentions pointed.--Manifestly
-agitated, embarrassed, even distressed, Augustus quitted the company
-at an early hour.
-
-It would be endless to enumerate all the little incidents that occurred;
-which, however trifling they might appear in the recital, continued to
-operate in one direction. Many letters passed to the same purport. My
-curiosity was a consuming passion; but this inflexible, impenetrable,
-man, was still silent, or alternately evaded, and resented, my
-enquiries. We continued, occasionally, to meet, but generally in
-company.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-
-During the ensuing summer, Mr Harley proposed making a visit to his
-mother, and, calling to take his leave of me, on the evening preceding
-his journey, accidentally found me alone.--We entered into conversation
-on various subjects: twilight stole upon us unperceived. The obscure
-light inspired me with courage: I ventured to resume a subject, so often
-discussed; I complained, gently, of his reserve.
-
-'Could I suppose,' he asked, 'that he had been without _his share_ of
-suffering?'
-
-I replied something, I scarce know what, adverting to his stronger mind.
-
-'Strength!' said he, turning from me with emotion, 'rather say,
-weakness!'
-
-I reiterated the important, the so often proposed, enquiry--'Had he, or
-had he not, a _present, existing, engagement_?'
-
-He endeavoured to evade my question--I repeated it--He answered, with
-a degree of impatience, '_I cannot tell you_; if I could, do you think
-I would have been silent so long?'--as once, before, he spoke of the
-circumstances of his past life, as being of '_a singular, a peculiar,
-nature_.'
-
-At our separation, I asked, if he would write to me during his absence.
-'Certainly, he would.' The next morning, having some little commissions
-to execute for Mrs Harley, I sent them, accompanied by a few lines, to
-her son.
-
-'Why is it,' said I, 'that our sagacity, and penetration, frequently
-desert us on the most interesting occasions? I can read any mind with
-greater facility than I can read your's; and, yet, what other have I
-so attentively studied? This is a problem I know not how to solve. One
-conclusion will force itself upon me--if a mistaken one, whom have you
-to blame?--That an _honourable_, suitable, engagement, could have given
-no occasion for mystery.' I added, 'I should depend on hearing from him,
-according to his promise.'
-
-Week after week, month after month, wore away, and no letter arrived.
-Perturbation was succeeded by anxiety and apprehension; but hearing,
-through my maternal friend, Mrs Harley, of the welfare of this object
-of our too tender cares, my solicitude subsided into despondency. The
-pressure of one corroding train of ideas preyed, like a canker-worm,
-upon my heart, and destroyed all its tranquillity.
-
-In the beginning of the winter, this mysterious, inexplicable, being,
-again returned to town. I had undertaken a little business, to serve
-him, during his absence--I transmitted to him an account of my
-proceedings; subjoining a gentle reproach for his unkind silence.
-
-'You promised you would write to me,' said I, 'during your residence
-in ----shire. I therefore depended upon hearing from you; and, yet, I
-was disappointed. You should not, indeed you should not, make these
-experiments upon my mind. My sensibility, originally acute, from having
-been too much exercised, has become nearly morbid, and has almost
-unfitted me for an inhabitant of this world. I am willing to believe,
-that your conduct towards me has originated in good motives, nevertheless,
-you have made some sad mistakes--you have _deeply_, though undesignedly,
-wounded me: I have been harrassed, distressed, mortified. You know not,
-neither will I attempt to describe, all I have suffered! language would
-be inadequate to paint the struggles of a delicate, susceptible, mind,
-in some peculiar and interesting situations.
-
-'You may suspect me of wanting resolution, but strong, persevering
-affections, are no mark of a weak mind. To have been the wife of a man
-of virtue and talents was my dearest ambition, and would have been my
-glory: I judged myself worthy of the confidence and affection of such a
-man--I felt, that I could have united in his pursuits, and shared his
-principles--aided the virtuous energies of his mind, and assured his
-domestic comforts. I earnestly sought to inspire you with tenderness,
-from the conviction, that I could contribute to your happiness, and to
-the worth of your character. And if, from innumerable associations, I
-at length loved your person, it was the magnanimity of your conduct, it
-was your virtues, that first excited my admiration and esteem. But you
-have rejected an attachment originating in the highest, the purest,
-principles--you have thrown from you a heart of exquisite sensibility,
-and you leave me in doubt, whether you have not sacrificed that heart
-to prejudice. Yet, contemned affection has excited in my mind no
-resentment; true tenderness is made up of gentle and amiable emotions;
-nothing hostile, nothing severe, can mix with it: it may gradually
-subside, but it will continue to soften the mind it has once subdued.
-
-'I see much to respect in your conduct, and though, it is probable, some
-parts of it may have originated in mistaken principles, I trust, that
-their source was pure! I, also, have made many mistakes--have been
-guilty of many extravagances. Yet, distrust the morality, that sternly
-commands you to pierce the bosom that most reveres you, and then to call
-it virtue--_Yes! distrust and suspect its origin!_' I concluded with
-expressing a wish to see him--'_merely as a friend_'--requesting a line
-in reply.
-
-He wrote not, but came, unexpectedly came, the next evening. I expressed,
-in lively terms, the pleasure I felt in seeing him. We conversed on
-various subjects, he spoke affectionately of his mother, and of the
-tender interest she had expressed for my welfare. He enquired after my
-pursuits and acquirements during his absence, commending the progress I
-had made. Just before he quitted me, he adverted to the reproach I had
-made him, for not having written to me, according to his engagement.
-
-'Recollect,' said he, 'in the last letter I received from you, before I
-left London, you hinted some suspicions--' I looked at him, 'and what,'
-added he, 'could I reply?'
-
-I was disconcerted, I changed colour, and had no power to pursue the
-subject.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-
-From this period, he continued to visit me (I confess at my solicitation)
-more frequently. We occasionally resumed our scientific pursuits, read
-together, or entered into discussion on various topics. At length he
-grew captious, disputatious, gloomy, and imperious--the more I studied
-to please him, the less I succeeded. He disapproved my conduct, my
-opinions, my sentiments; my frankness offended him. This change
-considerably affected me. In company, his manners were studiously cold
-and distant; in private capricious, yet reserved and guarded. He seemed
-to overlook all my efforts to please, and, with a severe and penetrating
-eye, to search only for my errors--errors, into which I was but too
-easily betrayed, by the painful, and delicate, situation, in which I had
-placed myself.
-
-We, one day, accompanied Mrs Denbeigh on a visit of congratulation to
-her brother (eldest son of my deceased uncle Mr Melmoth), who had, when
-a youth, been placed by his father in a commercial house in the West
-Indies, and who had just returned to his native country with an ample
-fortune. His sister and myself anticipated the pleasure of renewing our
-early, fraternal, affection and intimacy, while I felt a secret pride in
-introducing to his acquaintance a man so accomplished and respectable as
-Mr Harley. We were little aware of the changes which time and different
-situations produce on the character, and, with hearts and minds full of
-the frank, lively, affectionate, youth, from whom we had parted, seven
-years since, with mutual tears and embraces, shrunk spontaneously,
-on our arrival at Mr Melmoth's elegant house in Bedford square, from
-the cold salutation, of the haughty, opulent, purse-proud, Planter,
-surrounded by ostentatious luxuries, and evidently valuing himself upon
-the consequence which he imagined they must give him in our eyes.
-
-Mr Harley received the formal compliments of this favourite of fortune
-with the easy politeness which distinguishes the gentleman and the man
-of letters, and the dignified composure which the consciousness of worth
-and talents seldom fails to inspire. Mr Melmoth, by his awkward and
-embarrassed manner, tacitly acknowledged the impotence of wealth and
-the real superiority of his guest. We were introduced by our stately
-relation to his wife, the lady of the mansion, a young woman whom he had
-accidentally met with in a party of pleasure at Jamaica, whither she had
-attended a family in the humble office of companion or chief attendant
-to the lady. Fascinated by her beauty and lively manner, our trader had
-overlooked an empty mind, a low education, and a doubtful character,
-and, after a very few interviews, tendered to her acceptance his hand
-and fortune; which, though not without some affectation of doubt and
-delay, were in a short time joyfully accepted.
-
-A gentleman joined our party in the dining-room, whom the servant
-announced by the name of Pemberton, in whom I presently recognized,
-notwithstanding some years had elapsed since our former meeting, the man
-of fashon and gallantry who had been the antagonist of Mr Francis, at
-the table of my father. He had lately (we were informed by our host)
-been to Jamaica, to take possession of an estate bequeathed to him, and
-had returned to England in the same vessel with Mr and Mrs Melmoth.
-After an elegant dinner of several courses had been served up and
-removed for the desert, a desultory conversation took place.
-
-Mr Pemberton, it appeared, held a commission in the militia, and
-earnestly solicited Mrs Melmoth, on whom he lavished a profusion of
-compliments, to grace their encampment, which was to be stationed in the
-ensuing season near one of the fashionable watering places, with her
-presence.
-
-This request the lady readily promised to comply with, expressing, in
-tones of affected softness, her admiration of military men, and of the
-
-  'Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!'
-
-'Do you not think, Miss Courtney,' said she, turning to me, 'that
-soldiers are the most agreeable and charming men in the world?'
-
-'Indeed I do not, Madam; their trade is _murder_, and their trappings,
-in my eyes, appear but as the gaudy pomp of sacrifice.'
-
-'_Murder_, indeed! What a harsh word--I declare you are a shocking
-creature--There have always been wars in the world, and there always
-must be: but surely you would not confound the brave fellows, who
-fight to protect their King and Country, and _the ladies_, with common
-ruffians and housebreakers!'
-
-'All the difference between them is, that the one, rendered desperate
-by passion, poverty, or injustice, endeavours by _wrong_ means to do
-himself _right_, and through this terrible and pitiable mistake destroys
-the life or the property of a fellow being--The others, wantonly and in
-cold blood, cut down millions of their species, ravage whole towns and
-cities, and carry devastation through a country.'
-
-'What _odd notions_! Dear, Mr Pemberton, did you ever hear a lady talk
-so strangely?'
-
-Thus called upon, Mr Pemberton thought it incumbent upon him to
-interfere--'_Courtney_, I think, Madam, your name is! The daughter of an
-old friend of mine, if I am not mistaken, and who, I remember, was, when
-a very young lady, a great admirer of _Roman virtues_.'
-
-'Not of _Roman virtues_, I believe, Sir; they had in them too much of
-the destructive spirit which Mrs Melmoth thinks so admirable.'
-
-'Indeed, I said nothing about _Roman virtues_, nor do I trouble myself
-with such subjects--I merely admired the soldiers because they are so
-brave and so polite; besides, the military dress is so elegant and
-becoming--Dear, Mr Pemberton, how charmingly you must look in your
-regimentals!'
-
-Mr Pemberton, bowing in return to the compliment, made an animated
-eulogium on the taste and beauty of the speaker.
-
-'Pray, Sir,' resumed she, addressing herself to Mr Harley, whose
-inattention seemed to pique her, and whose notice she was determined to
-attract, 'are you of Miss Courtney's opinion--do you think it right to
-call soldiers _murderers_?'
-
-'Upon my word, Madam,' with an air of irony, 'you must excuse me from
-entering into such _nice distinctions_--when _ladies_ differ, who shall
-presume to decide?'
-
-Mr Melmoth interposed, by wishing, 'that they had some thousands
-more of these _murderers_ in the West Indies, to keep the slaves in
-subordination, who, since absurd notions of liberty had been put into
-their heads, were grown very troublesome and refractory, and, in a short
-time, he supposed, would become as insolent as the English servants.'
-
-'Would you believe it, Mrs Denbeigh,' said the Planter's lady,
-addressing the sister of her husband, 'Mr Melmoth and I have been in
-England but a month, and have been obliged three times to change our
-whole suit of servants?'
-
-'This is a land of freedom, my dear sister; servants, here, will not
-submit to be treated like the slaves of Jamaica.'
-
-'Well, I am sure it is very provoking to have one's will disputed by
-such low, ignorant, creatures. How should they know what is right? It
-is enough for them to obey the orders of their superiors.'
-
-'But suppose,' replied Mrs Denbeigh, 'they should happen to think their
-superiors unreasonable!'
-
-'_Think!_ sister,' said the lordly Mr Melmoth, with an exulting laugh,
-'what have _servants_, or _women_, to do with _thinking_?'
-
-'Nay, now,' interrupted Mr Pemberton, 'you are too severe upon the
-ladies--how would the elegant and tasteful arrangement of Mrs Melmoth's
-ornaments have been produced without thinking?'
-
-'Oh, you flatterer!' said the lady. 'Let them think only about their
-dress, and I have no objection, but don't let them plague us with
-_sermonizing_.'
-
-'Mrs Melmoth,' said I, coolly, 'does not often, I dare say, offend
-_in this way_. That some of the gentlemen, present, should object to a
-woman's exercising her discriminating powers, is not wonderful, since
-it might operate greatly to their disadvantage.'
-
-'A blow on the right cheek, from so fair a hand,' replied Mr Pemberton,
-affectedly bending his body, 'would almost induce one to adopt the
-christian maxim, and turn the left, also. What say you, Mr Harley?'
-
-'Mr Harley, I believe, Sir, does not feel himself included in the
-reflection.'
-
-'He is a happy man then.'
-
-'No, Sir, merely a _rational one_!'
-
-'You are pleased to be severe; of all things I dread a female wit.'
-
-'It is an instinctive feeling of self-preservation--nature provides weak
-animals with timidity as a guard.'
-
-Mr Pemberton reddened, and, affecting a careless air, hummed a tune. Mr
-Melmoth again reverted to the subject of English servants, which gave
-rise to a discussion on the Slave Trade. Mr Harley pleaded the cause of
-freedom and humanity with a bold and manly eloquence, expatiating warmly
-on the iniquity as well as impolicy of so accursed a traffic. Melmoth
-was awed into silence. Mr Pemberton advanced some trite arguments in
-opposition, respecting the temporary mischiefs which might ensue, in case
-of an abolition, to the planters, landholders, traders, &c. Augustus
-explained, by contending only for the gradual emancipation, after their
-minds had been previously prepared, of the oppressed Africans. The
-conversation grew interesting. Pemberton was not devoid of talents when
-he laid aside his affectation; the subject was examined both in a moral
-and a political point of view. I listened with delight, while Augustus
-exposed and confuted the specious reasoning and sophistry of his
-antagonist: exulting in the triumph of truth and justice, I secretly
-gloried--'with more than selfish vanity'--in the virtues and abilities
-of my friend. Though driven from all his resources, Mr Pemberton was too
-much the courtier to be easily disconcerted, but complimenting his
-adversary on his eloquence, declared he should be happy to hear of his
-having a seat in Parliament.
-
-Mrs Melmoth, who had yawned and betrayed various symptoms of weariness
-during the discussion, now proposed the adjournment of the ladies into
-the drawing-room, whither I was compelled, by a barbarous and odious
-custom, reluctantly to follow, and to submit to be entertained with a
-torrent of folly and impertinence.
-
-'I was ill-natured,' she told me.--'How could I be so severe upon the
-_charming_ and _elegant_ Mr Pemberton?'
-
-It was in vain I laboured to convince her, that to be treated like
-ideots was no real compliment, and that the men who condescend to
-flatter our foibles, despised the weak beings they helped to form.
-
-My remonstrances were as fatiguing, and as little to be comprehended
-by this _fine lady_, as the arguments respecting the Slave Trade:--she
-sought refuge from them in interrogating Mrs Denbeigh respecting the
-last new fashions, and in consulting her taste on the important
-question--whether blue or violet colour was the most becoming to a
-brunette complexion? The gentlemen joined us, to our great relief, at
-the tea-table:--other company dropped in, and the evening was beguiled
-with cards and the chess-board;--at the latter Mr Melmoth and Mr Harley
-were antagonists;--the former was no match for Augustus. I amused myself
-by observing their moves, and overlooking the game.
-
-During our return from this visit, some conversation occurred between Mr
-Harley, my cousin, and myself, respecting the company we had quitted. I
-expressed my disappointment, disgust, and contempt, in terms, it may be,
-a little too strong.
-
-'I was _fastidious_,' Augustus told me, 'I wanted a world made on
-purpose for me, and beings formed after one model. It was both amusing,
-and instructive, to contemplate varieties of character. I was a romantic
-enthusiast--and should endeavour to become more like an inhabitant of
-the world.'
-
-Piqued at these remarks, and at the tone and manner in which they were
-uttered, I felt my temper rising, and replied with warmth; but it was
-the glow of a moment; for, to say truth, vexation and disappointment,
-rather than reason, had broken and subdued my spirit. Mrs Denbeigh,
-perceiving I was pained, kindly endeavoured to give a turn to the
-conversation; yet she could not help expressing her regret, on observing
-the folly, levity, and extravagance, of the woman whom her brother had
-chosen for a wife.
-
-'No doubt,' said Augustus, a little peevishly, 'he is fond of her--she
-is a fine woman--there is no accounting for the _caprices_ of the
-affections.'
-
-I sighed, and my eyes filled with tears--'Is, then, affection so
-_capricious_ a sentiment--is it possible to love what we despise?'
-
-'I cannot tell,' retorted Mr Harley, with quickness. 'Triflers can give
-no _serious_ occasion for uneasiness:--the humours of superior women are
-sometimes still less tolerable.'
-
-'Ah! how unjust. If gentleness be not _the perfection of reason_, it is
-a quality which I have never, yet, properly understood.'
-
-He made no reply, but sunk into silence, reserve, and reverie. On our
-arrival at my apartments, I ventured (my cousin having left us) to
-expostulate with him on his unkind behaviour; but was answered with
-severity. Some retrospection ensued, which gradually led to the subject
-ever present to my thoughts.--Again I expressed a solicitude to be
-informed of the real state of his heart, of the nature of those
-mysterious obstacles, to which, when clearly ascertained, I was ready
-to submit.--'Had he, or had he not, an attachment, that looked to, as
-its _end_, a serious and legal engagement?' He appeared ruffled and
-discomposed.--'I ought not to be so urgent--he had already sufficiently
-explained himself.' He then repeated to me some particulars, apparently
-adverse to such a supposition--asking me, in his turn, 'If these
-circumstances bespoke his having any such event in view?'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-
-For some time after this he absented himself from me; and, when he
-returned, his manners were still more unequal; even his sentiments, and
-principles, at times, appeared to me equivocal, and his character seemed
-wholly changed. I tried, in vain, to accommodate myself to a disposition
-so various. My affection, my sensibility, my fear of offending--a
-thousand conflicting, torturing, emotions, threw a constraint over my
-behaviour.--My situation became absolutely intolerable--time was murdered,
-activity vain, virtue inefficient: yet, a secret hope inspired me, that
-_indifference_ could not have produced the irritations, the inequalities,
-that thus harrassed me. I thought, I observed a conflict in his mind;
-his fits of absence, and reflection, were unusual, deep, and frequent:
-I watched them with anxiety, with terror, with breathless expectation.
-My health became affected, and my mind disordered. I perceived that it
-was impossible to proceed, in the manner we had hitherto done, much
-longer--I felt that it would, inevitably, destroy me.
-
-I reflected, meditated, reasoned, with myself--'That one channel, into
-which my thoughts were incessantly impelled, was destructive of all
-order, of all connection.' New projects occurred to me, which I had
-never before ventured to encourage--I revolved them in my mind, examined
-them in every point of view, weighed their advantages and disadvantages,
-in a moral, in a prudential, scale.--Threatening evils appeared on all
-sides--I endeavoured, at once, to free my mind from prejudice, and from
-passion; and, in the critical and _singular_ circumstances in which I
-had placed myself, coolly to survey the several arguments of the case,
-and nicely to calculate their force and importance.
-
-'If, as we are taught to believe, the benevolent Author of nature be,
-indeed, benevolent,' said I, to myself, 'he surely must have intended
-the _happiness_ of his creatures. Our morality cannot extend to him, but
-must consist in the knowledge, and practice, of those duties which we
-owe to ourselves and to each other.--Individual happiness constitutes
-the general good:--_happiness_ is the only true _end_ of existence;
---all notions of morals, founded on any other principle, involve in
-themselves a contradiction, and must be erroneous. Man does right,
-when pursuing interest and pleasure--it argues no depravity--this is
-the fable of superstition: he ought to only be careful, that, in seeking
-his own good, he does not render it incompatible with the good of
-others--that he does not consider himself as standing alone in the
-universe. The infraction of established _rules_ may, it is possible, in
-some cases, be productive of mischief; yet, it is difficult to state any
-_rule_ so precise and determinate, as to be alike applicable to every
-situation: what, in one instance, might be a _vice_, in another may
-possibly become a _virtue_:--a thousand imperceptible, evanescent,
-shadings, modify every thought, every motive, every action, of our
-lives--no one can estimate the sensations of, can form an exact
-judgment for, another.
-
-'I have sometimes suspected, that all mankind are pursuing phantoms,
-however dignified by different appellations.--The healing operations of
-time, had I patience to wait the experiment, might, perhaps, recover my
-mind from its present distempered state; but, in the meanwhile, the bloom
-of youth is fading, and the vigour of life running to waste.--Should I,
-at length, awake from a delusive vision, it would be only to find myself
-a comfortless, solitary, shivering, wanderer, in the dreary wilderness
-of human society. I feel in myself the capacities for increasing the
-happiness, and the improvement, of a few individuals--and this circle,
-spreading wider and wider, would operate towards the grand end of
-life--_general utility_.'
-
-Again I repeated to myself--'Ascetic virtues are equally barbarous as
-vain:--the only just morals, are those which have a tendency to increase
-the bulk of enjoyment. My plan tends to this. The good which I seek
-does not appear to me to involve injury to any one--it is of a nature,
-adapted to the disposition of my mind, for which every event of my life,
-the education both of design and accident, have fitted me. If I am now
-put out, I may, perhaps, do mischief:--the placid stream, forced from
-its channel, lays waste the meadow. I seem to stand as upon a wide
-plain, bounded on all sides by the horizon:--among the objects which I
-perceive within these limits, some are so lofty, my eyes ache to look
-up to them; others so low, I disdain to stoop for them. _One_, only,
-seems fitted to my powers, and to my wishes--_one, alone_, engages my
-attention! Is not its possession worthy an arduous effort: _Perseverance_
-can turn the course of rivers, and level mountains! Shall I, then,
-relinquish my efforts, when, perhaps, on the very verge of success?
-
-'The mind must have an object:--should I desist from my present pursuit,
-after all it has cost me, for what can I change it? I feel, that I am
-neither a philosopher, nor a heroine--but a _woman, to whom education
-has given a sexual character_. It is true, I have risen superior to the
-generality of my _oppressed sex_; yet, I have neither the talents for a
-legislator, nor for a reformer, of the world. I have still many female
-foibles, and shrinking delicacies, that unfit me for rising to arduous
-heights. Ambition cannot stimulate me, and to accumulate wealth, I am
-still less fitted. Should I, then, do violence to my heart, and compel
-it to resign its hopes and expectations, what can preserve me from
-sinking into, the most abhorred of all states, _languor and inanity_?
---Alas! that tender and faithful heart refuses to change its object--it
-can never love another. Like Rousseau's Julia, my strong individual
-attachment has annihilated every man in the creation:--him I love
-appears, in my eyes, something more--every other, something less.
-
-'I have laboured to improve myself, that I might be worthy of the
-situation I have chosen. I would unite myself to a man of worth--I would
-have our mingled virtues and talents perpetuated in our offspring--I
-would experience those sweet sensations, of which nature has formed my
-heart so exquisitely susceptible. My ardent sensibilities incite me to
-love--to seek to inspire sympathy--to be beloved! My heart obstinately
-refuses to renounce the man, to whose mind my own seems akin! From the
-centre of private affections, it will at length embrace--like spreading
-circles on the peaceful bosom of the smooth and expanded lake--the whole
-sensitive and rational creation. Is it virtue, then, to combat, or to
-yield to, my passions?'
-
-I considered, and reconsidered, these reasonings, so specious, so
-flattering, to which passion lent its force. One moment, my mind seemed
-firmly made up on the part I had to act;--I persuaded myself, that I had
-gone too far to recede, and that there remained for me no alternative:--the
-next instant, I shrunk, gasping, from my own resolves, and shuddered at
-the important consequences which they involved. Amidst a variety of
-perturbations, of conflicting emotions, I, at length, once more, took up
-my pen.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-
-      TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY.
-
-      'I blush, when I reflect what a weak, wavering, inconsistent
-      being, I must lately have appeared to you. I write to you on
-      important subjects--I forbid you to answer me on paper; and,
-      when you seem inclined to put that period to the present,
-      painful, high-wrought, and trying, state of my feelings,
-      which is now become so necessary, I appear neither to hear,
-      nor to comprehend you. I fly from the subject, and thicken
-      the cloud of mystery, of which I have so often, and, I still
-      think, so justly complained.--These are some of the effects
-      of the contradictory systems, that have so long bewildered
-      our principles and conduct. A combination of causes, added
-      to the conflict between a thousand delicate and nameless
-      emotions, have lately conspired to confuse, to weaken,
-      my spirits. You can conceive, that these acute, mental,
-      sensations, must have had a temporary effect on the state
-      of my health. To say truth (and, had I not said it, my
-      countenance would have betrayed me), I have not, for some
-      time past, been so thoroughly disordered.
-
-      'Once more, I have determined to rally my strength; for I
-      feel, that a much longer continuance in the situation,
-      in which my mind has been lately involved, would be
-      insupportable:--and I call upon you, _now_, with a
-      resolution to summon all my fortitude to bear the result,
-      for the _written_ state of your mind, on the topic become so
-      important to my future welfare and usefulness.
-
-      'You may suppose, that a mind like mine must have,
-      repeatedly, set itself to examine, on every side, all that
-      could possibly have a relation to a subject affecting it so
-      materially. You have hinted at _mysterious_ obstacles to the
-      wish, in which every faculty of my soul has been so long
-      absorbed--the wish of forming with you, a connection,
-      nearer, _and more tender_, than that of friendship. This
-      mystery, by leaving room for conjecture (and how frequently
-      have I warned you of this!), left room for the illusions of
-      imagination, and of hope--left room for the suspicion, that
-      you might, possibly, be sacrificing _your own feelings_ as
-      well as mine, to a mistaken principle. Is it possible that
-      you were not aware of this--you, who are not unacquainted
-      with the nature of the mind! Still less were you ignorant
-      of the nature of my mind--which I had so explicitly, so
-      unreservedly, laid open! I had a double claim upon your
-      confidence--a confidence, that I was utterly incapable of
-      abusing, or betraying--a confidence, which must have stopped
-      my mind in its career--which would have saved me the bitter,
-      agonizing, pangs I have sustained. Mine were not common
-      feelings--it is _obscurity_ and _mystery_ which has wrought
-      them up to frenzy--_truth_ and _certainty_ would, long ere
-      this, have caused them temporarily to subside into their
-      accustomed channels. You understand little of the human
-      heart, if you cannot conceive this--"Where the imagination
-      is vivid, the feelings strong, the views and desires not
-      bounded by common rules;--in such minds, passions, if not
-      subdued, become ungovernable and fatal: where there is much
-      warmth, much enthusiasm, there is much danger.--My mind is
-      no less ardent than yours, though education and habit may
-      have given it a different turn--it glows with equal zeal to
-      attain its end."[11] Yes, I must continue to repeat, there
-      has been in your conduct _one grand mistake_; and the train
-      of consequences which may, yet, ensue, are uncertain, and
-      threatening.--But, I mean no reproach--we are all liable to
-      errors; and my own, I feel, are many, and various. But to
-      return--
-
-         [Footnote 11: Holcraft's Anna St Ives.]
-
-      'You may suppose I have revolved, in my thoughts, every
-      possible difficulty on the subject alluded to; balancing
-      their degrees of probability and force:--and, I will frankly
-      confess, such is the sanguine ardour of my temper, that I
-      can conceive but one obstacle, that would be _absolutely
-      invincible_; which is, supposing that you have already
-      contracted a _legal, irrecoverable_, engagement. Yet, this I
-      do not suppose. I will arrange, under five heads, (on all
-      occasions, I love to class and methodize) every other
-      possible species of objection, and subjoin all the
-      reasonings which have occurred to me on the subjects.
-
-      'And, first, I will imagine, as the most serious and
-      threatening difficulty, that you love another. I would,
-      then, ask--Is she capable of estimating your worth--does she
-      love you--has she the magnanimity to tell you so--would she
-      sacrifice to that affection every meaner consideration--has
-      she the merit to secure, as well as accomplishments to
-      attract, your regard?--You are too well acquainted with the
-      human heart, not to be aware, that what is commonly called
-      love is of a fleeting nature, kept alive only by hopes and
-      fears, if the qualities upon which it is founded afford no
-      basis for its subsiding into tender confidence, and rational
-      esteem. Beauty may inspire a transient desire, vivacity
-      amuse, for a time, by its sportive graces; but the first
-      will quickly fade and grow familiar--the last degenerate
-      into impertinence and insipidity. Interrogate your own
-      heart--Would you not, when the ardour of the passions, and
-      the fervor of the imagination, subsided, wish to find the
-      sensible, intelligent, friend, take place of the engaging
-      mistress?--Would you not expect the economical manager of
-      your affairs, the rational and judicious mother to your
-      offspring, the faithful sharer of your cares, the firm
-      friend to your interest, the tender consoler of your
-      sorrows, the companion in whom you could wholly confide, the
-      discerning participator of your nobler pursuits, the friend
-      of your virtues, your talents, your reputation--who could
-      understand you, who was formed to pass the ordeal of honour,
-      virtue, friendship?--Ask yourself these questions--ask them
-      closely, without sophistry, and without evasion. You are
-      not, now, an infatuated boy! Supposing, then, that you are,
-      at present, entangled in an engagement which answers not
-      this description--Is it virtue to fulfil, or to renounce,
-      it? Contrast it with my affection, with its probable
-      consequences, and weigh our different claims! _Would you
-      have been the selected choice, of this woman, from all
-      mankind_--would no other be capable of making her equally
-      happy--would nothing compensate to her for your loss--are
-      you the only object that she beholds in creation--might not
-      another engagement suit her equally well, or better--is her
-      whole soul absorbed but by one sentiment, that of fervent
-      love for you--is her future usefulness, as well as peace, at
-      stake--does she understand your high qualities better than
-      myself--will she emulate them more?--Does the engagement
-      promise a favourable issue, or does it threaten to wear
-      away the best period of life in protracted and uncertain
-      feeling--_the most pernicious, and destructive, of all state
-      of mind?_ Remember, also, that the summer of life will
-      quickly fade; and that he who has reached the summit of the
-      hill, has no time to lose--if he seize not the present
-      moment, age is approaching, and life melting fast away.--I
-      quit this, to state my second hypothesis--
-
-      'That you esteem and respect me, but that your heart has
-      hitherto refused the sympathies I have sought to awaken
-      in it. If this be the case, it remains to search for the
-      reason; and, I own, I am at a loss to find it, either in
-      moral, or physical, causes. Our principles are in unison,
-      our tastes and habits not dissimilar, our knowledge of, and
-      confidence in, each other's virtues is reciprocal, tried,
-      and established--our ages, personal accomplishments, and
-      mental acquirements do not materially differ. From such an
-      union, I conceive, mutual advantages would result. I have
-      found myself distinguished, esteemed, beloved by, others,
-      where I have not sought for this distinction. How, then, can
-      I believe it compatible with the nature of mind, that so
-      many strong efforts, and reiterated impressions, can have
-      produced no effect upon yours? Is your heart constituted
-      differently from every other human heart?--I have lately
-      observed an inequality in your behaviour, that has whispered
-      something flattering to my heart. Examine yourself--Have you
-      felt no peculiar interest in what concerns me--would the
-      idea of our separation affect you with no more than a slight
-      and common emotion?--One more question propose to yourself,
-      as a test--Could you see me form a new, and more fortunate,
-      attachment, with indifference? If you cannot, without
-      hesitation, answer these questions, I have still a powerful
-      pleader in your bosom, though unconscious of it yourself,
-      that will, ultimately, prevail. If I have, yet, failed of
-      producing an unequivocal effect, it must arise from having
-      mistaken the _means_ proper to produce the desired _end_.
-      My own sensibility, and my imperfect knowledge of your
-      character may, here, have combined to mislead me. The first,
-      by its suffocating and depressing powers, clouding my
-      vivacity, incapacitating me from appearing to you with
-      my natural advantages--these effects would diminish as
-      assurance took the place of doubt. The last, every day would
-      contribute to correct. Permit me, then, _to hope for_, as
-      well as to seek your affections, and if I do not, at length,
-      gain and secure them, it will be a phenomenon in the history
-      of mind!
-
-      'But to proceed to my third supposition--The peculiar,
-      pecuniary, embarrassments of your situation--Good God!
-      did this barbarous, insidious, relation, allow himself
-      to consider the pernicious consequences of his absurd
-      bequest?--threatening to undermine every manly principle, to
-      blast every social virtue? Oh! that I had the eloquence to
-      rouse you from this tame and unworthy acquiescence--to
-      stimulate you to exercise your talents, to trust to the
-      independent energies of your mind, to exert yourself to
-      procure the honest rewards of virtuous industry. In
-      proportion as we lean for support on foreign aid, we lose
-      the dignity of our nature, and palsey those powers which
-      constitute that nature's worth. Yet, I will allow, from my
-      knowledge of your habits and associations, this obstacle its
-      full force. But there remains one method of obviating, even
-      this! I will frankly confess, that could I hope to gain
-      the interest in your heart, which I have so long and
-      so earnestly sought--my confidence in your honour and
-      integrity, my tenderness for you, added to the wish of
-      contributing to your happiness, would effect, what no lesser
-      considerations could have effected--would triumph, not over
-      my principles, (_for the individuality of an affection
-      constitutes its chastity_) but over my prudence. I repeat, I
-      am willing to sacrifice every inferior consideration--retain
-      your legacy, so capriciously bequeathed--retain your present
-      situation, and I will retain mine. This proposition, though
-      not a violation of modesty, certainly involves in it very
-      serious hazards--_It is, wholly, the triumph of affection!_
-      You cannot suppose, that a transient engagement would
-      satisfy a mind like mine; I should require a reciprocal
-      faith plighted and returned--an after separation, otherwise
-      than by mutual consent, would be my destruction--I should
-      not survive your desertion. My existence, then, would be in
-      your hands. Yet, having once confided, your affection should
-      be my recompence--my sacrifice should be a cheerful and a
-      voluntary one; I would determine not to harrass you with
-      doubts nor jealousies, I would neither reflect upon the
-      past, nor distrust the future: I would rest upon you, I
-      would confide in you fearlessly and entirely! but, though I
-      would not enquire after the past, my delicacy would require
-      the assurance of your present, undivided, affection.
-
-      'The fourth idea that has occurred to me, is the probability
-      of your having formed a plan of seeking some agreeable woman
-      of fortune, who should be willing to reward a man of merit
-      for the injustice of society. Whether you may already have
-      experienced some disappointments of this nature, I will not
-      pretend to determine. I can conceive, that, by many women,
-      a coxcomb might be preferred to you--however this may be,
-      the plan is not unattended with risque, nor with some
-      possible degrading circumstances--and you may succeed, and
-      yet be miserable: happiness depends not upon the abundance
-      of our possessions.
-
-      'The last case which I shall state, and on which I shall
-      lay little comparative stress, is the possibility of an
-      engagement of a very inferior nature--a mere affair of the
-      senses. The arguments which might here be adduced are too
-      obvious to be repeated. Besides, I think highly of your
-      refinement and delicacy--Having therefore just hinted, I
-      leave it with you.
-
-      'And now to conclude--After considering all I have urged,
-      you may, perhaps, reply--That the subject is too nice and
-      too subtle for reasoning, and that the heart is not to
-      be compelled. These, I think, are mistakes. There is no
-      subject, in fact, that may not be subjected to the laws
-      of investigation and reasoning. What is it that we
-      desire--_pleasure_--_happiness_? I allow, pleasure is the
-      supreme good: but it may be analyzed--it must have a stable
-      foundation--to this analysis I now call you! This is
-      the critical moment, upon which hangs a long chain of
-      events--This moment may decide your future destiny and
-      mine--it may, even, affect that of unborn myriads! My spirit
-      is pervaded with these important ideas--my heart flutters--I
-      breathe with difficulty--_My friend_--_I would give myself
-      to you_--the gift is not worthless. Pause a moment, ere you
-      rudely throw from you an affection so tried, so respectable,
-      so worthy of you! The heart may be compelled--compelled
-      by the touching sympathies which bind, with sacred,
-      indissoluble ties, mind to mind! Do not prepare for yourself
-      future remorse--when lost, you may recollect my worth, and
-      my affection, and remember them with regret--Yet mistake me
-      not, I have no intention to intimidate--I think it my duty
-      to live, while I may possibly be useful to others, however
-      bitter and oppressive may be that existence. I will live
-      _for duty_, though peace and enjoyment should be for ever
-      fled. You may rob me of my happiness, you may rob me of my
-      strength, but, even, you cannot destroy my principles. And,
-      if no other motive with-held me from rash determinations, my
-      tenderness for you (it is not a selfish tenderness), would
-      prevent me from adding, to the anxieties I have already
-      given you, the cruel pang, of feeling yourself the occasion,
-      however unintentionally, of the destruction of a fellow
-      creature.
-
-      'While I await your answer, I summon to my heart all its
-      remaining strength and spirits. Say to me, in clear and
-      decisive terms, that the obstacles which oppose my affection
-      _are absolutely, and altogether, insuperable_--Or that
-      there is a possibility of their removal, but that time and
-      patience are, yet, necessary to determine their force. In
-      this case, I will not disturb the future operations of your
-      mind, assuring myself, that you will continue my suspence no
-      longer than is proper and requisite--or frankly accept, and
-      return, the faith of her to whom you are infinitely dearer
-      than life itself!
-
-      'Early to-morrow morning, a messenger shall call for the
-      paper, which is to decide the colour of my future destiny.
-      Every moment, that the blow has been suspended, it has
-      acquired additional force--since it must, at length,
-      descend, it would be weakness still to desire its
-      protraction--We have, already, refined too much--_I promise
-      to live--more, alas! I cannot promise_.
-
-      '_Farewel!_ dearest and most beloved of men--whatever may be
-      my fate--_be happiness yours!_ Once more, my lingering,
-      foreboding heart, repeats _farewel!_
-
-                                                         'EMMA.'
-
-
-It would be unnecessary to paint my feelings during the interval in
-which I waited a reply to this letter--I struggled to repress hope, and
-to prepare my mind for the dissolution of a thousand air-built fabrics.
-The day wore tediously away in strong emotion, and strong exertion. On
-the subsequent morning, I sat, waiting the return of my messenger,
-in a state of mind, difficult even to be conceived--I heard him
-enter--breathless, I flew to meet him--I held out my hand--I could not
-speak.
-
-'Mr Harley desired me to tell you, _he had not had time to write_.'
-
-Gracious God! I shudder, even now, to recall the convulsive sensation! I
-sunk into a chair--I sat for some time motionless, every faculty seemed
-suspended. At length, returning to recollection, I wrote a short
-incoherent note, entreating--
-
-'To be spared another day, another night, like the preceding--I asked
-only _one single line_! In the morning I had made up my mind to
-fortitude--it was now sinking--another day, I could not answer for the
-consequences.'
-
-Again an interval of suspense--again my messenger returned with
-a verbal reply--'_He would write to-morrow._' Unconsciously, I
-exclaimed--'_Barbarous, unfeeling, unpitying, man!_' A burst of tears
-relieved--no--_it did not relieve me_. The day passed--I know not
-how--I dare not recollect.
-
-The next morning, I arose, somewhat refreshed; my exhausted strength and
-spirits had procured me a few hours of profound slumber. A degree of
-resentment gave a temporary firmness to my nerves. 'What happiness (I
-repeated to myself) could I have expected with a man, thus regardless of
-my feelings?' I composed my spirits--_hope was at an end_--into a sort
-of sullen resignation to my fate--a half stupor!
-
-At noon the letter arrived, coldly, confusedly written; methought there
-appeared even a degree of irritation in it.
-
-'_Another, a prior attachment_--His behaviour had been such, as
-necessarily resulted from such an engagement--unavoidable circumstances
-had prevented an earlier reply.' My swollen heart--but it is enough--'He
-blamed my impatience--he would, in future, perhaps, when my mind had
-attained more composure, make some remarks on my letter.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-
-To write had always afforded a temporary relief to my spirits--The next
-day I resumed my pen.
-
-
-      TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY.
-
-      'If, after reflecting upon, and comparing, many parts of
-      your past conduct, you can acquit yourself, at the sacred
-      bar of humanity--it is well! How often have I called
-      for--urged, with all the energy of truth and feeling--but in
-      vain--such a letter as you have at length written--and,
-      _even now_, though somewhat late, I thank you for it. Yet,
-      what could have been easier, than to repeat so plain and so
-      simple a tale? The vague hints, you had before given, I had
-      repeatedly declared to be insufficient. Remember, all my
-      earnestness, and all my simplicity, and _learn the value of
-      sincerity_! "Oh! with what difficulty is an active mind,
-      once forced into any particular train, persuaded to desert
-      it as hopeless!"[12]
-
-         [Footnote 12: Godwin's Caleb Williams.]
-
-      'This recital, then, was not to be confirmed, till the whole
-      moral conformation of my mind was affected--till the barbed
-      arrow had fixed, and rankled in, and poisoned, with its
-      envenomed point, every vein, every fibre, of my heart. This,
-      I confess, is now the case--Reason and self-respect sustain
-      me--but the wound you have inflicted _is indelible_--it will
-      continue to be the corroding canker at the root of my peace.
-      My youth has been worn in anguish--and the summer of life
-      will probably be overshadowed by a still thicker and darker
-      cloud. But I mean not to reproach you--it is not given me to
-      contribute to your happiness--the dearest and most ardent
-      wish of my soul--I would not then inflict unnecessary
-      pain--yet, I would fix upon your mind, the value of
-      _unequivocal sincerity_.
-
-      'Had the happiness of any human being, the meanest, the
-      vilest, depended as much upon me, as mine has done on you, I
-      would have sacrificed, for their relief, the dearest secret
-      of my heart--the secret, even upon which my very existence
-      had depended. It is true, you did not directly deceive
-      me--but is that enough for the delicacy of humanity? May the
-      past be an affecting lesson to us both--it is written upon
-      my mind in characters of blood. I feel, and acknowledge, my
-      own errors, in yielding to the illusion of vague, visionary,
-      expectation; but my faults have originated in a generous
-      source--they have been the wild, ardent, fervent, excesses,
-      of a vigorous and an exalted mind!
-
-      'I checked my tears, as they flowed, and they are already
-      dried--uncalled, unwished, for--why do they, thus, struggle
-      to force their way? my mind has, I hope, too much energy,
-      utterly to sink--I know what it is to suffer, and to combat
-      with, if not to subdue, my feelings--and _certainty_,
-      itself, is some relief. I am, also, supported by the
-      retrospect of my conduct; with all its mistakes, and all its
-      extravagances, it has been that of a virtuous, ingenuous,
-      uncorrupted, mind. You have contemned a heart of no common
-      value, you have sported with its exquisite sensibilities--but
-      it will, still, know how to separate your virtues from
-      your errors.
-
-      'You reprove, perhaps justly, my impatience--I can only say,
-      that circumstanced as you were, I should have stolen an hour
-      from rest, from company, from business, however, important,
-      to have relieved and soothed a fellow-creature in a
-      situation, so full of pain and peril. Every thought, during
-      a day scarcely to be recollected without agony, _was a
-      two-edged sword_--but some hours of profound and refreshing
-      slumber recruited my exhausted spirits, and enabled me,
-      yesterday, to receive my fate, with a fortitude but little
-      hoped for.
-
-      'You would oblige me exceedingly by the remarks you allow me
-      to hope for, on my letter of the ----th. You know, I will
-      not shrink from reproof--that letter afforded you the last
-      proof of my affection, and I repent not of it. I loved you,
-      first, for what, I conceived, high qualities of mind--from
-      nature and association, my tenderness became personal--till
-      at length, I loved you, not only rationally and
-      tenderly--_but passionately_--it became a pervading and a
-      devouring fire! And, yet, I do not blush--my affection
-      was modest, if intemperate, _for it was individual_--it
-      annihilated in my eyes every other man in the creation. I
-      regret these natural sensations and affections, their
-      forcible suppression injures the mind--it converts the mild
-      current of gentle, and genial sympathies, into a destructive
-      torrent. This, I have the courage to avow it, has been one
-      of the miserable mistakes in morals, and, like all other
-      partial remedies, has increased the evil, it was intended
-      to correct. From monastic institutions and principles have
-      flowed, as from a polluted source, streams, that have
-      at once spread through society a mingled contagion of
-      dissoluteness and hypocrisy.
-
-      'You have suddenly arrested my affections in their full
-      career--in all their glowing effervescence--you have taken
-
-                                      "The rose
-        From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
-        And placed a blister there."
-
-      'And, yet, I survive the shock, and determine to live, not
-      for future enjoyment--that is now, for ever, past--_but for
-      future usefulness_--Is not this virtue?
-
-      'I am sorry your attachment has been and I fear is likely
-      to be, protracted--I know, too well, the misery of
-      these situations, and I should, now, feel a melancholy
-      satisfaction in hearing of its completion--In that
-      completion, may you experience no disappointment! I do not
-      wish you to be beloved, as I have loved you; this, perhaps,
-      is unnecessary; such an affection, infallibly, enslaves the
-      heart that cherishes it; and slavery is the tomb of virtue
-      and of peace.
-
-      'I believe it would not be proper for us to meet again--at
-      least at present--should I hear of sickness, or calamity,
-      befalling you, I shall, I suspect, be impelled, by an
-      irresistible impulse to seek you--but I will no more
-      interrupt your repose--Though you have contemned my
-      affection, my friendship will still follow you.
-
-      'If you really _love_, I think you ought to make some
-      sacrifices, and not render yourself, and the happy
-      object of your tenderness, the victims of factitious
-      notions.--Remember--youth and life will quickly
-      fade. Relinquish, call upon her to relinquish, her
-      prejudices--should she refuse, she is unworthy of you, and
-      you will regret, too late, the tender, faithful, ingenuous
-      heart, that you have pierced through and through--_that
-      you have almost broken_! Should she make you happy, I will
-      esteem, though I may never have an opportunity of thanking,
-      her--Were she informed of my conduct, she might rejoice in
-      the trial of your affection--though I should not.
-
-      'The spirits, that had crouded round my heart, are already
-      subsiding--a flood of softness, a tide of overwhelming
-      affection, gushes upon it--and I feel sinking into helpless,
-      infantine, distress! Hasten to me your promised remarks--they
-      will rouse, they will strengthen, me--_Truth_ I will never
-      call indelicate or inhuman--it is only the virtuous mind
-      can dare to practise, to challenge, it:--simplicity is true
-      refinement.
-
-      'Let us reap from the past all the good we can--a close, and
-      searching, knowledge of the secret springs and foldings of
-      our hearts. Methinks, I could wish you justified, _even at
-      my own expence_.--I ask, unshrinkingly, a frank return.
-
-      'A heart-rending sigh accompanies my _farewel_--the last
-      struggles of expiring nature will be far less painful--but
-      my philosophy, now, _sternly_ calls upon me to put its
-      precepts in practice--trembling--shuddering--I obey!
-
-                                '_Farewel!_
-                                                         'EMMA.'
-
-
-Perhaps it cost me some effort to make the preceding letter so
-moderate--yet, every victory gained over ourselves is attended with
-advantages. But this apparent calm was the lethargy of despair--it was
-succeeded by severer conflicts, by keener anguish. A week passed, and
-near a second--I received no answer.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX
-
-
-A letter from the country made it necessary for me, again, to address Mr
-Harley, to make some enquiries which respected business of his mother's.
-It may be, that I felt a mixture of other motives;--it is certain, that
-when I wrote, I spoke of more than business.
-
-
-      'I had hoped,' I told him, 'ere this, to have received the
-      promised letter--Yet, I do not take up my pen,' said I,
-      'either to complain of, or to importune, you. If I have
-      already expressed myself with bitterness, let the harrassed
-      state of my mind be my excuse. My own conduct has been too
-      erroneous, too eccentric, to enable me to judge impartially
-      of your's. Forgive me, if by placing you in an embarrassing
-      situation, I have exposed you to consequent mistake or
-      uneasiness. I feel, that whatever errors we may either of
-      us have committed, _originated only with myself_, and I am
-      content to suffer all the consequences. It is true, had you
-      reposed in me an early, generous, confidence, much misery
-      would have been avoided--I had not been wounded
-
-         "There, where the human heart most exquisitely
-           feels!"
-
-      'You had been still my friend, and I had been comparatively
-      happy. Every passion is, in a great measure, the growth of
-      indulgence: all our desires are, in their commencement,
-      easily suppressed, when there appears no probability of
-      attaining their object; but when strengthened, by time and
-      reflection, into habit, in endeavouring to eradicate them,
-      we tear away part of the mind. In my attachments there is a
-      kind of savage tenacity--they are of an elastic nature,
-      and, being forced back, return with additional violence.
-
-      'My affection for you has not been, altogether, irrational
-      or selfish. While I felt that I loved you, as no other
-      woman, I was convinced, would love you--I conceived, could I
-      once engage your heart, I could satisfy, and even, purify
-      it. While I loved your virtues, I thought I saw, and I
-      lamented, the foibles which sullied them. I suspected you,
-      perhaps erroneously, of pride, ambition, the love of
-      distinction; yet your ambition could not, I thought, be of
-      an ignoble nature--I feared that the gratifications you
-      sought, if, indeed, attainable, were factitious--I even
-      fancied I perceived you, against your better judgment,
-      labouring to seduce yourself!' "He is under a delusion,"
-      said I, to myself;--"reason may be stunned, or blinded, for
-      awhile; but it will revive in the heart, and do its office,
-      when sophistry will be of no avail." I saw you struggling
-      with vexations, that I was assured might be meliorated by
-      tender confidence--I longed to pour its balms into your
-      bosom. My sensibility disquieted you, and myself, only
-      _because it was constrained_. I thought I perceived a
-      conflict in your mind--I watched its progress with attention
-      and solicitude. A thousand times has my fluttering heart
-      yearned to break the cruel chains that fettered it, and to
-      chase the cloud, which stole over your brow, by the tender,
-      yet chaste, caresses and endearments of ineffable affection!
-      My feelings became too highly wrought, and altogether
-      insupportable. Sympathy for your situation, zeal for your
-      virtues, love for your mind, tenderness for your person--a
-      complication of generous, affecting, exquisite, emotions,
-      impelled me to make one great effort.--"[13] The world might
-      call my plans absurd, my views romantic, my pretensions
-      extravagant--Was I, or was I not, guilty of any crime, when,
-      in the very acme of the passions, I so totally disregarded
-      the customs of the world?" Ah! what were my sensations--what
-      did I not suffer, in the interval?--and you prolonged that
-      cruel interval--and still you suffer me to doubt, whether,
-      at the moment in my life when I was actuated by the highest,
-      the most fervent, the most magnanimous, principles--whether,
-      at that moment, when I most deserved your respect, I did not
-      for ever forfeit it.
-
-         [Footnote 13: Holcroft's Anna St Ives.]
-
-      'I seek not to extenuate any part of my conduct--I confess
-      that it has been wild, extravagant, romantic--I confess,
-      that, even for your errors, I am justly blameable--and yet
-      I am unable to bear, because I feel they would be unjust,
-      your hatred and contempt. I cherish no resentment--my spirit
-      is subdued and broken--your unkindness sinks into my soul.
-
-                                                           'EMMA.'
-
-
-Another fortnight wore away in fruitless expectation--the morning
-rose, the evening closed, upon me, in sadness. I could not, yet, think
-the mystery developed: on a concentrated view of the circumstances,
-they appeared to me contradictory, and irreconcileable. A solitary
-enthusiast, a child in the drama of the world, I had yet to learn, that
-those who have courage to act upon advanced principles, must be content
-to suffer moral martyrdom.[14] In subduing our own prejudices, we have
-done little, while assailed on every side by the prejudices of others.
-My own heart acquitted me; but I dreaded that distortion of mind, that
-should wrest guilt out of the most sublime of its emanations.
-
-      [Footnote 14: This sentiment may be just in some particular
-      cases, but it is by no means of general application, and
-      must be understood with great limitations.]
-
-I ruminated in gloomy silence, on my forlorn, and hopeless, situation.
-'If there be not a future state of being,' said I to myself, 'what is
-this!--Tortured in every stage of it, "Man cometh forth like a flower,
-and is cut down--he fleeth, as a shadow, and continueth not!"--I looked
-backward on my past life, and my heart sickened--its confidence in
-humanity was shaken--I looked forward, and all was cheerless. I had
-certainly committed many errors!--Who has not--who, with a fancy as
-lively, feelings as acute, and a character as sanguine, as mine? "What,
-in fact," says a philosophic writer,[15] "is character?--the production
-of a lively and constant affection, and consequently, of a strong
-passion:"--eradicate that passion, that ferment, that leaven, that
-exuberance, which raises and makes the mind what it is, and what
-remains? Yet, let us beware how we wantonly expend this divine, this
-invigorating, power. Every grand error, in a mind of energy, in its
-operations and consequences, carries us years forward--_precious years,
-never to be recalled_!' I could find no substitute for the sentiments
-I regretted--for that sentiment formed my character; and, but for the
-obstacles which gave it force, though I might have suffered less
-misery, I should, I suspect, have gained less improvement; still
-adversity _is a real evil_; and I foreboded that this improvement had
-been purchased too dear.
-
-      [Footnote 15: Helvetius.]
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X
-
-
-Weeks elapsed ere the promised letter arrived--a letter still colder,
-and more severe, than the former. I wept over it, bitter tears!
-It accused me 'of adding to the vexations of a situation, before
-sufficiency oppressive.'--Alas! had I known the nature of those
-vexations, could I have merited such a reproof? The Augustus, I had so
-long and so tenderly loved, no longer seemed to exist. Some one had,
-surely, usurped his signature, and imitated those characters, I had been
-accustomed to trace with delight. He tore himself from me, _nor would
-he deign to soften the pang of separation_. Anguish overwhelmed me--my
-heart was pierced. Reclining my head on my folded arms, I yielded myself
-up to silent grief. Alone, sad, desolate, no one heeded my sorrows--no
-eye pitied me--no friendly voice cheered my wounded spirit! The social
-propensities of a mind forbidden to expand itself, forced back, preyed
-incessantly upon that mind, secretly consuming its powers.
-
-I was one day roused from these melancholy reflections by the entrance
-of my cousin, Mrs Denbeigh. She held in her hand a letter, from my only
-remaining friend, Mrs Harley. I snatched it hastily; my heart, lacerated
-by the seeming unkindness of him in whom it had confided, yearned to
-imbibe the consolation, which the gentle tenderness of this dear,
-maternal, friend, had never failed to administer. The first paragraph
-informed me--
-
-
-      'That she had, a few days since, received a letter from the
-      person to whom the legacy of her son devolved, should he
-      fail in observing the prescribed conditions of the testator:
-      that this letter gave her notice, that those conditions had
-      already been infringed, Mr Harley having contracted a
-      marriage, three years before, with a foreigner, with whom
-      he had become acquainted during his travels; that this
-      marriage had been kept a secret, and, but very lately, by an
-      accidental concurrence of circumstances, revealed to the
-      person most concerned in the detection. Undoubted proofs of
-      the truth of this information could be produced; it would
-      therefore be most prudent in her son to resign his claims,
-      without putting himself, and the legal heir, to unnecessary
-      expence and litigation. Ignorant of the residence of Mr
-      Harley, the writer troubled his mother to convey to him
-      these particulars.'
-
-
-The paper dropped from my hand, the colour forsook my lips and
-cheeks;--yet I neither wept, nor fainted. Mrs Denbeigh took my
-hands--they were frozen--the blood seemed congealed in my veins--and I
-sat motionless--my faculties suspended, stunned, locked up! My friend
-spake to me--embraced, shed tears over, me--but she could not excite
-mine;--my mind was pervaded by a sense of confused misery. I remained
-many days in this situation--it was a state, of which I have but a
-feeble remembrance; and I, at length, awoke from it, as from a
-troublesome dream.
-
-With returning reason, the tide of recollection also returned. Oh!
-how complicated appeared to me the guilt of Augustus! Ignorant of his
-situation, I had been unconsciously, and perseveringly, exerting myself
-to seduce the affections of a _husband_ from his _wife_. He had made
-me almost criminal in my own eyes--he had risqued, at once, by a
-disingenuous and cruel reserve, the virtue and the happiness of three
-beings. What is virtue, but a calculation of _the consequences of our
-actions_? Did we allow ourselves to reason on this principle, to reflect
-on its truth and importance, we should be compelled to shudder at many
-parts of our conduct, which, _taken unconnectedly_, we have habituated
-ourselves to consider as almost indifferent. Virtue can exist only in a
-mind capable of taking comprehensive views. How criminal, then, is
-ignorance!
-
-During this sickness of the soul, Mr Francis, who had occasionally
-visited me since my residence in town, called, repeatedly, to enquire
-after my welfare; expressing a friendly concern for my indisposition. I
-saw him not--I was incapable of seeing any one--but, informed by my kind
-hostess of his humane attentions, soothed by the idea of having yet
-a friend who seemed to interest himself in my concerns, I once more
-had recourse to my pen (Mrs Denbeigh having officiously placed the
-implements of writing in my way), and addressed him in the wild and
-incoherent language of despair.
-
-
-      TO MR FRANCIS.
-
-      'You once told me, that I was incapable of heroism; and you
-      were right--yet, I am called to great exertions! a blow that
-      has been suspended over my head, days, weeks, months, years,
-      has at length fallen--still I live! My tears flow--I
-      struggle, in vain, to suppress them, but they are not tears
-      of blood!--My heart, though pierced through and through, is
-      not broken!
-
-      'My friend, come and teach me how to acquire fortitude--I
-      am wearied with misery--All nature is to me a blank--an
-      envenomed shaft rankles in my bosom--philosophy will not
-      heal the festering wound--_I am exquisitely wretched!_
-
-      'Do not chide me till I get more strength--I speak to you of
-      my sorrows, for your kindness, while I was yet a stranger to
-      you, inspired me with confidence, and my desolate heart
-      looks round for support.
-
-      'I am indebted to you--how shall I repay your goodness? Do
-      you, indeed, interest yourself in my fate? Call upon me,
-      then, for the few incidents of my life--I will relate them
-      simply, and without disguise. There is nothing uncommon in
-      them, but the effect which they have produced upon my
-      mind--yet, that mind they formed.
-
-      'After all, my friend, what a wretched farce is life! Why
-      cannot I sleep, and, close my eyes upon it for ever? But
-      something whispers, "_this would be wrong_."--How shall
-      I tear from my heart all its darling, close twisted,
-      associations?--And must I live--_live for what?_ God only
-      knows! Yet, how am I sure that there is a God--is he
-      wise--is he powerful--is he benevolent? If he be, can
-      he sport himself in the miseries of poor, feeble,
-      impotent, beings, forced into existence, without their
-      choice--impelled, by the iron hand of necessity, through
-      mistake, into calamity?--Ah! my friend, who will condemn the
-      poor solitary wanderer, whose feet are pierced with many a
-      thorn, should he turn suddenly out of the rugged path, seek
-      an obscure shade to shrowd his wounds, his sorrows, and
-      his indignation, from the scorn of a pitiless world, and
-      accelerate the hour of repose.[16] Who would be born if they
-      could help it? You would perhaps--_you may do good_--But on
-      me, the sun shines only to mock my woes--Oh! that I had
-      never seen the light.
-
-      [Footnote 16: This is the reasoning of a mind distorted by
-      passion. Even in the moment of disappointment, our heroine
-      judged better. See page 38.]
-
-      'Torn by conflicting passions--wasted in anguish--life is
-      melting fast away--A burthen to myself, a grief to those
-      who love me, and worthless to every one. Weakened by long
-      suspence--preyed upon, by a combination of imperious
-      feelings--I fear, I greatly fear, the _irrecoverable blow
-      is struck_! But I blame no one--I have been entangled in
-      error--_who is faultless?_
-
-      'While pouring itself out on paper, my tortured mind has
-      experienced a momentary relief: If your heart be inaccessible
-      to tender sympathies, I have only been adding one more to my
-      numberless mistakes!
-                                                           'EMMA.'
-
-
-Mr Francis visited me, and evinced for my situation the most humane and
-delicate consideration. He reminded me of the offer I had made him, and
-requested the performance of my engagement. In compliance with this
-request, and to beguile my melancholy thoughts, I drew up a sketch of
-the events of my past life, and unfolded a history of the sentiments of
-my mind (from which I have extracted the preceding materials) reserving
-only any circumstance which might lead to a detection of the name and
-family of the man with whom they were so intimately blended.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI
-
-
-After having perused my manuscript, Mr Francis returned it, at my
-desire, accompanied by the following letter.
-
-
-      TO EMMA COURTNEY.
-
-      'Your narrative leaves me full of admiration for your
-      qualities, and compassion for your insanity.
-
-      'I entreat however your attention to the following passage,
-      extracted from your papers. "After considering all I have
-      urged, you may perhaps reply, that the subject is too nice,
-      and too subtle, for reasoning, and that the heart is not
-      to be compelled. This, I think, is a mistake. There is no
-      topic, in fact, that may not be subjected to the laws of
-      investigation and reasoning. What is it we desire? pleasure,
-      happiness. What! the pleasure of an instant, only; or that
-      which is more solid and permanent? I allow, pleasure is the
-      supreme good! but it may be analysed. To this analysis I now
-      call you."
-
-      'Could I, if I had studied for years, invent a comment on
-      your story, more salutary to your sorrows, more immoveable
-      in its foundation, more clearly expressed, or more
-      irresistibly convincing to every rational mind?
-
-      'How few real, substantial, misfortunes there are in the
-      world! how few calamities, the sting of which does not
-      depend upon our cherishing the viper in our bosom, and
-      applying the aspic to our veins! The general pursuit of all
-      men, we are frequently told, is happiness. I have often been
-      tempted to think, on the contrary, that the general pursuit
-      is misery. It is true, men do not recognize it by its
-      genuine appellation; they content themselves with the
-      pitiful expedient of assigning it a new denomination. But,
-      if their professed purpose were misery, could they be more
-      skilful and ingenious in the pursuit?
-
-      'Look through your whole life. To speak from your own
-      description, was there ever a life, in its present period,
-      less chequered with substantial _bona fide_ misfortune? The
-      whole force of every thing which looks like a misfortune
-      was assiduously, unintermittedly, provided by yourself. You
-      nursed in yourself a passion, which, taken in the degree
-      in which you experienced it, is the unnatural and odious
-      invention of a distempered civilization, and which in
-      almost all instances generates an immense overbalance of
-      excruciating misery. Your conduct will scarcely admit of any
-      other denomination than moon-struck madness, hunting after
-      torture. You addressed a man impenetrable as a rock, and
-      the smallest glimpse of sober reflection, and common sense,
-      would have taught you instantly to have given up the
-      pursuit.
-
-      'I know you will tell me, and you will tell yourself, a
-      great deal about constitution, early association, and the
-      indissoluble chain of habits and sentiments. But I answer
-      with small fear of being erroneous, "It is a mistake to
-      suppose, that the heart is not to be compelled. There is no
-      topic, in fact, that may not be subjected to the laws of
-      investigation and reasoning. Pleasure, happiness, is the
-      supreme good; and happiness is susceptible of being
-      analysed." I grant, that the state of a human mind cannot be
-      changed at once; but, had you worshipped at the altar of
-      reason but half as assiduously as you have sacrificed at
-      the shrine of illusion, your present happiness would have
-      been as enviable, as your present distress is worthy of
-      compassion. If men would but take the trouble to ask
-      themselves, once every day, Why should I be miserable? how
-      many, to whom life is a burthen, would become chearful and
-      contented.
-
-      'Make a catalogue of all the real evils of human life;
-      bodily pain, compulsory solitude, severe corporal labour,
-      in a word, all those causes which deprive us of health, or
-      the means of spending our time in animated, various, and
-      rational pursuits. Aye, these are real evils! But I should
-      be ashamed of putting disappointed love into my enumeration.
-      Evils of this sort are the brood of folly begotten upon
-      fastidious indolence. They shrink into non-entity, when
-      touched by the wand of truth.
-
-      'The first lesson of enlightened reason, the great fountain
-      of heroism and virtue, the principle by which alone man can
-      become what man is capable of being, is _independence_. May
-      every power that is favourable to integrity, to honour,
-      defend me from leaning upon another for support! I will use
-      the word, I will use my fellow men, but I will not abuse
-      these invaluable benefits of the system of nature. I will
-      not be weak and criminal enough, to make my peace depend
-      upon the precarious thread of another's life or another's
-      pleasure. I will judge for myself; I will draw my support
-      from myself--the support of my existence and the support
-      of my happiness. The system of nature has perhaps made me
-      dependent for the means of existence and happiness upon my
-      fellow men taken collectively; but nothing but my own
-      folly can make me dependent upon individuals. Will these
-      principles prevent me from admiring, esteeming, and loving
-      such as are worthy to excite these emotions? Can I not have
-      a mind to understand, and a heart to feel excellence,
-      without first parting with the fairest attribute of my
-      nature?
-
-      'You boast of your sincerity and frankness. You have
-      doubtless some reason for your boast--Yet all your
-      misfortunes seem to have arisen from concealment. You
-      brooded over your emotions, and considered them as a sacred
-      deposit--You have written to me, I have seen you frequently,
-      during the whole of this transaction, without ever having
-      received the slightest hint of it, yet, if I be a fit
-      counsellor now, I was a fit counsellor then; your folly was
-      so gross, that, if it had been exposed to the light of day,
-      it could not have subsisted for a moment. Even now you
-      suppress the name of your hero: yet, unless I know how much
-      of a hero and a model of excellence he would appear in my
-      eyes, I can be but a very imperfect judge of the affair.
-
-                                                  '---- FRANCIS.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XII
-
-
-To the remonstrance of my friend, which roused me from the languor into
-which I was sinking, I immediately replied--
-
-
-      TO MR FRANCIS.
-
-      'You retort upon me my own arguments, and you have cause. I
-      felt a ray of conviction dart upon my mind, even, while I
-      wrote them. But what then?--"I seemed to be in a state, in
-      which reason had no power; I felt as if I could coolly
-      survey the several arguments of the case--perceive, that
-      they had prudence, truth, and common sense on their
-      side--And then answer--I am under the guidance of a director
-      more energetic than you!"[17] I am affected by your
-      kindness--I am affected by your letter. I could weep over
-      it, bitter tears of conviction and remorse. But argue with
-      the wretch infected with the plague--will it stop the tide
-      of blood, that is rapidly carrying its contagion to the
-      heart? I blush! I shed burning tears! But I am still
-      desolate and wretched! And how am I to stop it? The force
-      which you impute to my reasoning was the powerful frenzy of
-      a high delirium.
-
-         [Footnote 17: Godwin's Caleb Williams.]
-
-      'What does it signify whether, abstractedly considered, a
-      misfortune be worthy of the names real and substantial, if
-      the consequences produced are the same? That which embitters
-      all my life, that which stops the genial current of health
-      and peace is, whatever be its nature, a real calamity to me.
-      There is no end to this reasoning--what individual can limit
-      the desires of another? The necessaries of the civilized man
-      are whimsical superfluities in the eye of the savage. Are
-      we, or are we not (as you have taught me) the creatures of
-      sensation and circumstance?
-
-      'I agree with you--and the more I look into society, the
-      deeper I feel the soul-sickening conviction--"The general
-      pursuit is misery"--necessarily--excruciating misery, from
-      the source to which you justly ascribe it--"_The unnatural
-      and odious inventions of a distempered civilization._" I am
-      content, you may perceive, to recognize things by their
-      genuine appellation. I am, at least, a reasoning maniac:
-      perhaps the most dangerous species of insanity. But while
-      the source continues troubled, why expect the streams to run
-      pure?
-
-      'You know I will tell you--"about the indissoluble chains of
-      association and habit:" and you attack me again with my own
-      weapons! Alas! while I confess their impotence, with what
-      consistency do I accuse the flinty, impenetrable, heart, I
-      so earnestly sought, in vain, to move? What materials does
-      this stubborn mechanism of the mind offer to the wise and
-      benevolent legislator!
-
-      'Had I, you tell me, "worshipped at the altar of reason, but
-      half as assiduously as I have sacrificed at the shrine of
-      illusion, my happiness might have been enviable." But do
-      you not perceive, that my reason was the auxiliary of my
-      passion, or rather my passion the generative principle of my
-      reason? Had not these contradictions, these oppositions,
-      roused the energy of my mind, I might have domesticated,
-      tamely, in the lap of indolence and apathy.
-
-      'I do ask myself, every day--"Why should I be  miserable?"--and
-      I answer, "Because the strong, predominant, sentiment of my
-      soul, close twisted with all its cherished associations, has
-      been rudely torn away, and the blood flows from the lacerated
-      wound. You would be ashamed of placing disappointed love in
-      your enumeration of evils! Gray was not ashamed of this--
-
-        'And pining love shall waste their youth,
-         And jealousy, with rankling tooth,
-         That inly gnaws the secret heart!'
-
-         *       *       *       *       *
-
-        'These shall the stings of falsehood try,
-         And hard unkindness' alter'd eye,
-         That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow.'"
-
-      'Is it possible that you can be insensible of all the mighty
-      mischiefs which have been caused by this passion--of the
-      great events and changes of society, to which it has
-      operated as a powerful, though secret, spring? That Jupiter
-      shrouded his glories beneath a mortal form; that he
-      descended yet lower, and crawled as a reptile--that Hercules
-      took the distaff, and Sampson was shorn of his strength, are
-      in their spirit, no fables. Yet, these were the legends of
-      ages less degenerate than this, and states of society less
-      corrupt. Ask your own heart--whether some of its most
-      exquisite sensations have not arisen from sources, which, to
-      nine-tenths of the world, would be equally inconceivable:
-      Mine, I believe, is a _solitary madness in the eighteenth
-      century: it is not on the altars of love, but of gold, that
-      men, now, come to pay their offerings_.
-
-      'Why call woman, miserable, oppressed, and impotent,
-      woman--_crushed, and then insulted_--why call her to
-      _independence_--which not nature, but the barbarous and
-      accursed laws of society, have denied her? _This is
-      mockery!_ Even you, wise and benevolent as you are, can mock
-      the child of slavery and sorrow! "Excluded, as it were, by
-      the pride, luxury, and caprice, of the world, from expanding
-      my sensations, and wedding my soul to society, I was
-      constrained to bestow the strong affections, that glowed
-      consciously within me, upon a few."[18] Love, in minds of
-      any elevation, cannot be generated but upon a real, or
-      fancied, foundation of excellence. But what would be a
-      miracle in architecture, is true in morals--the fabric can
-      exist when the foundation has mouldered away. _Habit_ daily
-      produces this wonderful effect upon every feeling, and every
-      principle. Is not this the theory which you have taught me?
-
-         [Footnote 18: Godwin's Caleb Williams.]
-
-      'Am I not sufficiently ingenuous?--I will give you a
-      new proof of my frankness (though not the proof you
-      require).--From the miserable consequences of wretched moral
-      distinctions, from chastity having been considered as a
-      sexual virtue, all these calamities have flowed. Men are
-      thus rendered sordid and dissolute in their pleasures; their
-      affections vitiated, and their feelings petrified; the
-      simplicity of modest tenderness loses its charm; they become
-      incapable of satisfying the heart of a woman of sensibility
-      and virtue.--Half the sex, then, are the wretched, degraded,
-      victims of brutal instinct: the remainder, if they sink not
-      into mere frivolity and insipidity, are sublimed into a
-      sort of--[what shall I call them?]--refined, romantic,
-      factitious, unfortunate, beings; who, for the sake of the
-      present moment, dare not expose themselves to complicated,
-      inevitable, evils; evils, that will infallibly overwhelm
-      them with misery and regret! Woe be, more especially, to
-      those who, possessing the dangerous gifts of fancy and
-      feeling, find it as difficult to discover a substitute for
-      the object as for the sentiment! You, who are a philosopher,
-      will you still controvert the principles founded in truth
-      and nature? "Gross as is my folly," (and I do not deny it)
-      "you may perceive I was not wholly wandering in darkness.
-      But while the wintry sun of hope illumined the fairy
-      frost-work with a single, slanting ray--dazzled by the
-      transient brightness, I dreaded the meridian fervors
-      that should dissolve the glittering charm." Yes! it was
-      madness--but it was the pleasurable madness which none but
-      madmen know.
-
-      'I cannot answer your question--Pain me not by its
-      repetition; neither seek to ensnare me to the disclosure.
-      Unkindly, severely, as I have been treated, I will not
-      risque, even, the possibility of injuring the man, whom I
-      have so tenderly loved, in the esteem of any one. Were I to
-      name him, you know him not; you could not judge of his
-      qualities. He is not "a model of excellence." I perceive it,
-      with pain--and if obliged to retract my judgment on some
-      parts of his character--I retract it with agonizing
-      reluctance! But I could trace the sources of his errors, and
-      candour and self-abasement imperiously compel me to a mild
-      judgment, to stifle the petulant suggestions of a wounded
-      spirit.
-
-      'Ought not our principles, my friend, to soften the asperity
-      of our censures?--Could I have won him to my arms, I thought
-      I could soften, and even elevate, his mind--a mind, in which
-      I still perceive a great proportion of good. I weep for him,
-      as well as for myself. He will, one day, know my value,
-      and feel my loss. Still, I am sensible, that, by my
-      extravagance, I have given a great deal of vexation
-      (possibly some degradation), to a being, whom I had no right
-      to persecute, or to compel to chuse happiness through a
-      medium of my creation. I cannot exactly tell the extent of
-      the injury I may have done him. A long train of consequences
-      succeed, even, our most indifferent actions.--Strong
-      energies, though they answer not the end proposed, must yet
-      produce correspondent effects. Morals and mechanics are here
-      analogous. No longer, then, distress me by the repetition of
-      a question I ought not to answer. I am content to be the
-      victim--Oh! may I be the only victim--of my folly!
-
-      'One more observation allow me to make, before I conclude.
-      That we can "admire, esteem, and love," an individual--(for
-      love in the abstract, loving mankind collectively, conveys
-      to me no idea)--which must be, in fact, depending upon that
-      individual for a large share of our felicity, and not lament
-      his loss, in proportion to our apprehension of his worth,
-      appears to me a proposition, involving in itself an
-      absurdity; therefore demonstrably false.
-
-      'Let me, my friend, see you ere long--your remonstrance has
-      affected me--save me from myself!'
-
-
-TO THE SAME.
-
-[In continuation.]
-
-
-      'My letter having been delayed a few days, through a
-      mistake--I resume my pen; for, running my eye over what I
-      had written, I perceive (confounded by the force of your
-      expressions) I have granted you too much. My conduct was
-      not, altogether, so insane as I have been willing to allow.
-      It is certain, that could I have attained the end proposed,
-      my happiness had been encreased. "It is necessary for me to
-      love and admire, or I sink into sadness." The behaviour
-      of the man, whom I sought to move, appeared to me too
-      inconsistent to be the result of _indifference_. To be
-      roused and stimulated by obstacles--obstacles admitting
-      hope, because obscurely seen--is no mark of weakness.
-      Could I have subdued, what I, _then_, conceived to be the
-      _prejudices_ of a worthy man, I could have increased
-      both his happiness and my own. I deeply reasoned, and
-      philosophized, upon the subject. Perseverance, with little
-      ability, has effected wonders;--with perseverance, I felt,
-      that, I had the power of uniting ability--confiding in that
-      power, I was the dupe of my own reason. No other man,
-      perhaps, could have acted the part which this man has
-      acted:--how, then, was I to take such a part into my
-      calculations?
-
-      'Do not misconceive me--it is no miracle that I did not
-      inspire affection. On this subject, the mortification I have
-      suffered has humbled me, it may be, even, unduly in my own
-      eyes--but to the emotions of my pride, I would disdain to
-      give words. Whatever may have been my feelings, I am too
-      proud to express the rage of slighted love!--Yet, I am
-      sensible to all the powers of those charming lines of
-      Pope--
-
-        "Unequal talk, a passion to resign,
-         For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost, as mine!
-         Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
-         How often must it love, how often hate;
-         How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
-         Conceal, disdain, _do all things but forget_!"
-
-      'But to return. I pursued, comparatively, (as I thought) a
-      certain good; and when, at times, discouraged, I have
-      repeated to myself--What! after all these pains, shall I
-      relinquish my efforts, when, perhaps, on the very verge of
-      success?--To say nothing of the difficulty of forcing an
-      active mind out of its trains--if I desisted, what was to be
-      the result? The sensations I now feel--apathy, stagnation,
-      abhorred vacuity!
-
-      'You cannot resist the force of my reasoning--you, who are
-      acquainted with, who know how to paint, in colours true to
-      nature, the human heart--you, who admire, as a proof of
-      power, the destructive courage of an Alexander, even the
-      fanatic fury of a Ravaillac--you, who honour the pernicious
-      ambition of an Augustus Cæsar, as bespeaking the potent,
-      energetic, mind!--why should _you_ affect to be intolerant
-      to a passion, though differing in nature, generated on the
-      same principles, and by a parallel process. The capacity of
-      perception, or of receiving sensation, is (or generates) the
-      power; into what channel that power shall be directed,
-      depends not on ourselves. Are we not the creatures of
-      outward impressions? Without such impressions, should we be
-      any thing? Are not passions and powers synonimous--or can
-      the latter be produced without the lively interest that
-      constitutes the former? Do you dream of annihilating the
-      one--and will not the other be extinguished? With the
-      apostle, Paul, permit me to say--"I am not mad, but speak
-      the words of truth and soberness."
-
-      'To what purpose did you read my confessions, but to trace
-      in them a character formed, like every other human
-      character, by the result of unavoidable impressions, and the
-      chain of necessary events. I feel, that my arguments are
-      incontrovertible:--I suspect that, by affecting to deny
-      their force, you will endeavour to deceive either me or
-      yourself.--I have acquired the power of reasoning on this
-      subject at a dear rate--at the expence of inconceivable
-      suffering. Attempt not to deny me the miserable, expensive,
-      victory. I am ready to say--(ungrateful that I am)--Why did
-      you put me upon calling forth my strong reason?
-
-      'I perceive there is no cure for me--(apathy is, not the
-      restoration to health, but, the morbid lethargy of the soul)
-      but by a new train of impressions, of whatever nature,
-      equally forcible with the past.--You will tell me, It
-      remains with myself whether I will predetermine to resist
-      such impressions. Is this true? Is it philosophical? Ask
-      yourself. What!--can _even you_ shrink from the consequences
-      of your own principles?
-
-      'One word more--You accuse me of brooding in silence over my
-      sensations--of considering them as a "sacred deposit."
-      Concealment is particularly repugnant to my disposition--yet
-      a thousand delicacies--a thousand nameless solicitudes, and
-      apprehensions, sealed my lips!--He who inspired them was,
-      alone, the depositary of my most secret thoughts!--my heart
-      was unreservedly open before him--I covered my paper with
-      its emotions, and transmitted it to him--like him who
-      whispered his secret into the earth, to relieve the burden
-      of uncommunicated thought. My secret was equally safe, and
-      received in equal silence! Alas! he was not then ignorant of
-      the effects it was likely to produce!
-
-                                                            'EMMA.'
-
-
-Mr Francis continued his humane and friendly attentions; and, while he
-opposed my sentiments, as conceiving them destructive of my tranquillity,
-mingled with his opposition a gentle and delicate consideration for my
-feelings, that sensibly affected me, and excited my grateful attachment.
-He judged right, that, by stimulating my mind into action, the sensations,
-which so heavily oppressed it, might be, in some measure, mitigated--by
-diverting the course of my ideas into different channels, and by that
-means abating their force. His kindness soothed and flattered me, and
-communications relieved my thoughts.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIII
-
-
-The period which succeeded these events, though tedious in wearing away,
-marked by no vicissitude, has left little impression behind. The tenor
-of my days resembled the still surface of a stagnant lake, embosomed
-in a deep cavern, over which the refreshing breezes never sweep. Sad,
-vacant, inactive--the faculties both of mind and body seemed almost
-suspended. I became weak, languid, enervated--my disorder was a lethargy
-of soul. This was gradually succeeded by disease of body:--an inactivity,
-so contrary to all the habits of my past life, generated morbid humours,
-and brought on a slow, remitting, fever. I recovered, by degrees,
-from this attack, but remained for some time in a debilitated, though
-convalescent, state. A few weeks after my disorder returned, lasted
-longer, and left me still more weakened and depressed. A third time it
-assailed me, at a shorter interval; and, though less violent, was more
-protracted, and more exhausting.
-
-Mrs Denbeigh, alarmed by my situation, wrote to Mrs Harley, expressing
-the apprehensions which she entertained. From this dear friend, who was
-herself in a declining state of health, I received a pressing invitation
-to visit, once more, the village of F----; and to seek, from change of
-air, change of scene, and the cordial endearments of friendship, a
-restoration for my debilitated frame, and a balm for my wounded mind.
-
-My relation, at this period, had letters from her husband, informing
-her, that the term of his residence in India was prolonged; pressing her
-to join him there, and to come over in the next ship. To this request
-she joyfully acceded; and, hearing that a packet was about to sail for
-Bengal, secured her passage, and began immediately to make preparations
-for her departure. I no longer hesitated to comply with the entreaties
-of my friend; besides the tie of strong affection, which drew me to her,
-I had, at present, little other resource.
-
-After affectionately embracing Mrs Denbeigh, wishing a happy issue to
-her voyage, thanking her for all her kindness, and leaving a letter of
-grateful acknowledgement for Mr Francis, I quitted the metropolis, with
-an aching heart, and a wasted frame. My cousin accompanied me to the
-inn, from whence the vehicle set out that was to convey me to Mrs
-Harley. We parted in silence--a crowd of retrospective ideas of the
-past, and solicitudes respecting the future, occupied our thoughts--our
-sensations were too affecting for words.
-
-The carriage quitted London at the close of the evening, and travelled
-all night:--it was towards the end of the year. At midnight we passed
-over Hounslow and Bagshot heaths. 'The moon,' to adopt the language of
-Ossian, 'looked through broken clouds, and brightened their dark-brown
-sides.' A loud November blast howled over the heath, and whistled
-through the fern.--There was a melancholy desolation in the scene, that
-was in unison with my feelings, and which overwhelmed my spirits with a
-tide of tender recollections. I recalled to my imagination a thousand
-interesting images--I indulged in all the wild enthusiasm of my character.
-My fellow-travellers slept tranquilly, while my soul was awake to
-agonizing sorrow. I adopted the language of the tender Eloisa--'Why,'
-said I, 'am I indebted for life to his care, whose cruelty has rendered
-it insupportable? Inhuman, as he is, let him fly from me for ever,
-and deny himself the savage pleasure of being an eye-witness to my
-sorrows!--But why do I rave thus?--He is not to be blamed--_I, alone,
-am guilty_--I, alone, am the author of my own misfortunes, and should,
-therefore, be the only object of anger and resentment.'[19]
-
-      [Footnote 19: Rousseau.]
-
-Weakened by my late indisposition, fatigued by the rough motion of the
-carriage, and exhausted by strong emotion, when arrived at the end of my
-journey, I was obliged to be lifted from the coach, and carried into the
-cottage of my friend. The servant led the way to the library--the door
-opened--Mrs Harley advanced, to receive me, with tottering steps. The
-ravages of grief, and the traces of sickness, were visible in her dear,
-affectionate, countenance. I clasped my hands, and, lifting up my
-eyes, beheld the portrait of Augustus--beheld again the resemblance
-of those features so deeply engraven on my heart! My imagination was
-raised--methought the lively colours of the complexion had faded, the
-benignant smile had vanished, and an expression of perplexity and
-sternness usurped its place. I uttered a faint shriek, and fell lifeless
-into the arms of my friend. It was some time before I returned to sense
-and recollection, when I found myself on the bed, in the little chamber
-which had formerly been appropriated to my use. My friend sat beside me,
-holding my hand in her's, which she bathed with her tears. 'Thank God!'
-she exclaimed, in a rapturous accent, (as, with a deep sigh, I raised my
-languid eyes, and turned them mournfully towards her)--'she lives!--My
-Emma!--child of my affections!'--sobs suppressed her utterance. I drew
-the hand, which held mine, towards me--I pressed it to my bosom--'_My
-mother!_'--I would have said; but the tender appellation died away upon
-my lips, in inarticulate murmurs.
-
-These severe struggles were followed by a return of my disorder. Mrs
-Harley would scarcely be persuaded to quit my chamber for a moment--her
-tenderness seemed to afford her new strength;--but these exertions
-accelerated the progress of an internal malady, which had for some time
-past been gaining ground, and gradually undermining her health.
-
-Youth, and a good constitution, aided by the kind solicitudes of
-friendship, restored me, in a few weeks, to a state of convalescence.
-I observed the declining strength of my friend with terror--I accused
-myself of having, though involuntarily, added to these alarming symptoms,
-by the new fatigues and anxieties which I had occasioned her. Affection
-inspired me with those energies, that reason had vainly dictated. I
-struggled to subdue myself--I stifled the impetuous suggestions of my
-feelings, in exerting myself to fulfil the duties of humanity. My mind
-assumed a firmer tone--I became, once more, the cheerful companion, the
-tender consoler, the attentive nurse, of this excellent woman, to whose
-kindness I was so much indebted--and, if I stole a few moments in the
-day, while my friend reposed, to gaze on the resemblance of Augustus,
-to weep over the testimonies of his former respect and friendship,
-I quickly chased from my bosom, and my countenance, every trace of
-sadness, when summoned to attend my friend.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIV
-
-
-The winter came on severe and cold. Mrs Harley was forbidden to expose
-herself to the frosty air, which seemed to invigorate my languid frame.
-I was constituted her almoner, to distribute to the neighbouring poor
-the scanty portion, which she was enabled, by a rigid oeconomy, to spare
-from her little income: yet the value of this distribution had been
-more than redoubled, by the gentler charities of kind accents, tender
-sympathy, and wholesome counsels. To these indigent, but industrious,
-cottagers, I studied to be the worthy representative of their amiable
-benefactress, and found my reward in their grateful attachment, and the
-approving smiles of my friend.
-
-By degrees, she ventured to converse with me on the subject nearest her
-heart--the situation of her son. He had been obliged to yield to the
-proofs produced of his marriage, which he had, at first, seemed desirous
-of evading. He had written, with reserve, upon the subject to his
-mother; but, from the enquiries of a common friend, she had reason to
-apprehend, that his engagement had been of an imprudent nature. Two
-children, were, already the fruits of it: the mother, with a feminine
-helplessness of character, had a feeble constitution. The small fortune,
-which Augustus had originally shared with his family, was greatly
-reduced. His education and habits had unfitted him for those exertions
-which the support of an encreasing family necessarily required:--his
-spirits (her friend had informed her) seemed broken, and his temper
-soured. Some efforts had been made to serve him, which his lofty spirit
-had repelled with disdain.
-
-This narration deeply affected my heart--I had resigned myself to his
-loss--but the idea of his suffering, I felt, was an evil infinitely
-severer. It was this conviction that preyed incessantly on the peace
-and health of his mother. My fortitude failed, when I would have tried
-to sustain her; and I could only afford the melancholy satisfaction of
-mingling my sorrows with her's.
-
-The disorder of my friend rapidly increased--her mind became weakened,
-and her feelings wayward and irritable. I watched her incessantly--I
-strove, by every alleviating care, to soften her pains. Towards the
-approach of spring the symptoms grew more threatening; and it was judged,
-by her physician, necessary to apprize her family of her immediate
-danger. What a trial for my exhausted heart! I traced, with a trembling
-hand, a line to this melancholy purpose--addressed it to Mr Harley, and
-through him to his younger brothers and sisters.
-
-In a few days they arrived in the village--sending from the inn a
-servant, to prepare their mother for their approach. I gently intimated
-to her the visitants we might expect. The previous evening, a change had
-taken place, which indicated approaching dissolution; and her mind (not
-uncommon in similar cases) seemed, almost instantaneously, to have
-recovered a portion of its original strength. She sighed deeply, while
-her eyes, which were fixed wistfully on my face, were lighted with a
-bright, but transient, lustre.
-
-'My dear Emma,' said she, 'this is a trying moment for us both. I shall
-soon close my eyes, for ever, upon all worldly cares.--Still cherish, in
-your pure and ingenuous mind, a friendship for my Augustus--the darling
-of my soul! He may, in future, stand in need of consolation. I had
-formed hopes--vain hopes!--in which you and he were equally concerned.
-In the happiness of this partially-favoured child--this idol of my
-affections--all mine was concentrated. He has disappointed me, and I
-have lost the desire of living--Yet, he has noble qualities!--Who, alas!
-is perfect? Summon your fortitude, collect your powers, my child, for
-this interview!'
-
-She sunk on her pillow--I answered her only with my tears. A servant
-entered--but spoke not--her look announced her tidings--It caught the
-eye of Mrs Harley--
-
-'Let them enter,' said she; and she raised herself, to receive them, and
-assumed an aspect of composure.
-
-I covered my face with my handkerchief--I heard the sound of footsteps
-approaching the bed--I heard the murmurs of filial sorrow--The voice
-of Augustus, in low and interrupted accents, struck upon my ear--it
-thrilled through my nerves--I shuddered, involuntarily--What a moment!
-My friend spoke a few words, in a faint tone.
-
-'My children,' she added, 'repay to this dear girl,' laying her hand
-upon mine, 'the debt of kindness I owe her--she has smoothed the pillow
-of death--she is an orphan--she is tender and unfortunate.'
-
-I ventured to remove for a moment the handkerchief from my eyes--they
-met those of Augustus--he was kneeling by the bed-side--his countenance
-was wan, and every feature sunk in dejection; a shivering crept through
-my veins, and chilled my heart with a sensation of icy coldness--he
-removed his eyes, fixing them on his dying mother.
-
-'My son,' she resumed, in still fainter accents, 'behold in Emma,
-your sister--_your friend!_--confide in her--she is worthy of your
-confidence!'--'Will you not love him, my child,'--(gazing upon
-me,)--'with a sisterly affection?'
-
-I hid my face upon the pillow of my friend--I threw my arms around
-her--'Your request is superfluous, my friend, my more than parent, _ah,
-how superfluous_!'
-
-'Forgive me, I know the tenderness of your nature--yielding, in these
-parting moments, to the predominant affection of my heart--I fear, I
-have wounded that tender nature.' 'Farewell, my children! Love and
-assist each other--Augustus, where is your hand?--my sight fails me--God
-bless you and your little ones--_God bless you all_!--My last sigh--my
-last prayer--is yours.'
-
-Exhausted by these efforts, she fainted--Augustus uttered a deep groan,
-and raised her in his arms--but life was fled.
-
-At the remembrance of these scenes, even at this period, my heart is
-melted within me.
-
-What is there of mournful magic in the emotions of virtuous sorrow, that
-in retracing, in dwelling upon them, mingles with our tears a sad and
-sublime rapture? Nature, that has infused so much misery into the cup of
-human life, has kindly mixed this strange and mysterious ingredient to
-qualify the bitter draught.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XV
-
-
-After the performance of the last melancholy duties, this afflicted
-family prepared to separate. I received from them, individually,
-friendly offers of service, and expressions of acknowledgment, for my
-tender attentions to their deceased parent. I declined, for the present,
-their invitations, and profferred kindness, though uncertain how to
-dispose of myself, or which way to direct my course. Augustus behaved
-towards me with distant, cold, respect. I observed in his features,
-under a constrained appearance of composure, marks of deep and strong
-emotion. I recalled to my mind the injunctions of my deceased friend--I
-yearned to pour into his bosom the balm of sympathy, but, with an aspect
-bordering on severity, he repressed the expression of those ingenuous
-feelings which formed my character, and shunned the confidence I so
-earnestly sought. Unfortunate love had, in my subdued and softened mind,
-laid the foundation of a fervent and durable friendship--But my love, my
-friendship, were equally contemned! I relinquished my efforts--I shut
-myself in my chamber--and, in secret, indulged my sorrows.
-
-The house of my deceased friend was sold, and the effects disposed of.
-On the day previous to their removal, and the departure of the family
-for London, I stole into the library, at the close of the evening, to
-view, for _the last time_, the scene of so many delightful, so many
-afflicting emotions. A mysterious and sacred enchantment is spread over
-every circumstance, even every inanimate object, connected with the
-affections. To those who are strangers to these delicate, yet powerful
-sympathies, this may appear ridiculous--but the sensations are not the
-less genuine, nor the less in nature. I will not attempt to analyse
-them, it is a subject upon which the language of philosophy would
-appear frigid, and on which I feel myself every moment on the verge of
-fanaticism. Yet, affections like these are not so much weakness, as
-strength perhaps badly exerted. Rousseau was, right, when he asserted,
-that, 'Common men know nothing of violent sorrows, nor do great passions
-ever break out in weak minds. Energy of sentiment is the characteristic
-of a noble soul.'
-
-I gazed from the windows on the shrubbery, where I had so often wandered
-with my friends--where I had fondly cherished so many flattering, so
-many visionary, prospects. Every spot, every tree, was associated with
-some past pleasure, some tender recollection. The last rays of the
-setting sun, struggling from beneath a louring cloud, streamed through
-its dark bosom, illumined its edges, played on the window in which I was
-standing, and gilding the opposite side of the wainscot, against which
-the picture of Augustus still hung, shed a soft and mellow lustre over
-the features. I turned almost unconsciously, and contemplated it with a
-long and deep regard. It seemed to smile benignly--it wore no traces of
-the cold austerity, the gloomy and inflexible reserve, which now clouded
-the aspect of the original. I called to my remembrance a thousand
-interesting conversations--when
-
-      'Tuned to happy unison of soul, a fairer world of which the
-       vulgar never had a glimpse, displayed, its charms.'
-
-Absorbed in thought, the crimson reflection from the western clouds
-gradually faded, while the deep shades of the evening, thickened by the
-appearance of a gathering tempest, involved in obscurity the object on
-which, without distinctly perceiving it, I still continued to gaze.
-
-I was roused from this reverie by the sudden opening of the door. Some
-person, whom the uncertain light prevented me from distinguishing,
-walked across the room, with a slow and solemn pace, and, after taking
-several turns backwards and forwards, reclined on the sopha, remaining
-for some time perfectly still. A tremor shook my nerves--unable either
-to speak, or to move, I continued silent and trembling--my heart felt
-oppressed, almost to suffocation--at length, a deep, convulsive sigh,
-forced its way.
-
-'My God!' exclaimed the person, whose meditations I had interrupted,
-'what is that?'
-
-It was the voice of Mr Harley, he spoke in a stern tone, though with
-some degree of trepidation, and advanced hastily towards the window
-against which I leaned.
-
-The clouds had for some hours been gathering dark and gloomy. Just as
-Augustus had reached the place where I stood, a flash of lightning,
-pale, yet vivid, glanced suddenly across my startled sight, and
-discovered to him the object which had alarmed him.
-
-'Emma,' said he, in a softened accent, taking my trembling and almost
-lifeless hand, 'how came you here, which way did you enter?'
-
-I answered not--Another flash of lightning, still brighter, blue and
-sulphurous, illuminated the room, succeeded by a loud and long peal of
-thunder. Again the heavens seemed to rend asunder and discover a sheet
-of livid flame--a crash of thunder, sudden, loud, short, immediately
-followed, bespeaking the tempest near. I started with a kind of
-convulsive terror. Augustus led me from the window, and endeavoured, in
-vain, to find the door of the library--the temporary flashes, and total
-darkness by which they were succeeded, dazzled and confounded the sight.
-I stumbled over some furniture, which stood in the middle of the room,
-and unable to recover my feet, which refused any longer to sustain me,
-sunk into the arms of Augustus, suffering him to lift me to the sopha.
-He seated himself beside me, the storm continued; the clouds, every
-moment parting with a horrible noise, discovered an abyss of fire, while
-the rain descended in a deluge. We silently contemplated this sublime
-and terrible scene. Augustus supported me with one arm, while my
-trembling hand remained in his. The tempest soon exhausted itself by its
-violence--the lightning became less fierce, gleaming at intervals--the
-thunder rolled off to a distance--its protracted sound, lengthened by
-the echoes, faintly died away; while the rain continued to fall in a
-still, though copious, shower.
-
-My spirits grew calmer, I gently withdrew my hand from that of Mr
-Harley. He once more enquired, but in a tone of greater reserve, how I
-had entered the room without his knowledge? I explained, briefly and
-frankly, my situation, and the tender motives by which I had been
-influenced.
-
-'It was not possible,' added I, 'to take leave of this house _for ever_,
-without recalling a variety of affecting and melancholy ideas--I feel,
-that I have lost _my only friend_.'
-
-'This world,' said he, 'may not unaptly be compared to the rapids on the
-American rivers--We are hurried, in a frail bark, down the stream--It is
-in vain to resist its course--happy are those whose voyage is ended!'
-
-'My friend,' replied I in a faultering voice, 'I could teach my heart
-to bear your loss--though, God knows, the lesson has been sufficiently
-severe--but I know not how, with fortitude, to see you suffer.'
-
-'Suffering is the common lot of humanity--but, pardon me, when I say,
-your conduct has not tended to lessen my vexations!'
-
-'My errors have been the errors of _affection_--Do they deserve this
-rigor?'
-
-'Their source is not important, their consequences have been the
-same--you make not the allowances you claim.'
-
-'Dear, and severe, friend!--Be not unjust--the confidence which I
-sought, and merited, would have been obviated'--
-
-'I know what you would alledge--that confidence, you had reason to
-judge, was of a painful nature--it ought not to have been extorted.'
-
-'If I have been wrong, my faults have been severely expiated--if
-the error has been _only mine_, surely my sufferings have been in
-proportion; seduced by the fervor of my feelings; ignorant of your
-situation, if I wildly sought to oblige you to chuse happiness through a
-medium of my creation--yet, to have assured _yours_, was I not willing
-to risque all my own? I perceive my extravagance, my views were equally
-false and romantic--dare I to say--they were the ardent excesses of a
-generous mind? Yes! my wildest mistakes had in them a dignified mixture
-of virtue. While the institutions of society war against nature and
-happiness, the mind of energy, struggling to emancipate itself, will
-entangle itself in error'--
-
-'Permit me to ask you,' interrupted Augustus, 'whether, absorbed in your
-own sensations, you allowed yourself to remember, and to respect, the
-feelings of others?'
-
-I could no longer restrain my tears, I wept for some moments in
-silence--Augustus breathed a half-suppressed sigh, and turned from me
-his face.
-
-'The pangs which have rent my heart,' resumed I, in low and broken
-accents, 'have, I confess, been but too poignant! That lacerated
-heart still bleeds--we have neither of us been guiltless--_Alas!
-who is?_ Yet in my bosom, severe feelings are not more painful than
-transient--already have I lost sight of your unkindness, (God knows how
-little I merited it!) in stronger sympathy for your sorrows--whatever
-be their nature! We have both erred--why should we not exchange mutual
-forgiveness? Why should we afflict each other? Friendship, like charity,
-should suffer all things and be kind!'
-
-'My mind,' replied he coldly, 'is differently constituted.'
-
-'_Unpitying man!_ It would be hard for us, if we were all to be judged
-at so severe a tribunal--you have been a _lover_,' added I, in a softer
-tone, 'and can you not forgive the faults of _love_?'
-
-He arose, visibly agitated--I also stood up--my bosom deeply wounded,
-and, unknowing what I did, took his hand, and pressed it to my lips.
-
-'You have rudely thrown from you a heart of exquisite sensibility--you
-have contemned my love, and you disdain my friendship--is it brave, is
-it manly,' added I wildly--almost unconscious of what I said--forgetting
-at the moment his situation and my own--'thus to triumph over a spirit,
-subdued by its affections into unresisting meekness?'
-
-He broke from me, and precipitately quitted the room.
-
-I threw myself upon the floor, and, resting my head on the seat which
-Augustus had so lately occupied, passed the night in cruel conflict--a
-tempest more terrible than that which had recently spent its force,
-shook my soul! The morning dawned, ere I had power to remove myself
-from the fatal spot, where the measure of my afflictions seemed filled
-up.--Virtue may conquer weakness, but who can bear to be despised
-by those they love. The sun darted its beams full upon me, but its
-splendour appeared mockery--hope and joy were for ever excluded from my
-benighted spirit. The contempt of the world, the scoffs of ignorance,
-the contumely of the proud, I could have borne without shrinking--but to
-find myself rejected, contemned, scorned, by him with whom, of all
-mankind, my heart claimed kindred; by him for whom my youth, my health,
-my powers, were consuming in silent anguish--who, instead of pouring
-balm into the wound he had inflicted, administered only corrosives!--_It
-was too painful!_ I felt, that I had been a lavish prodigal--that I had
-become a wretched bankrupt; that there was but _one way_ to make me
-happy and _a thousand_ to make me miserable! Enfeebled and exhausted, I
-crawled to my apartment, and, throwing myself on the bed, gave a loose
-to the agony of my soul.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVI
-
-
-Under pretence of indisposition, I refused to meet the family. I heard
-them depart. Too proud to accept of obligation, I had not confided to
-them my plans, if plans they could be called, where no distinct end was
-in view.
-
-A few hours after their departure, I once more seated myself in a stage
-coach, in which I had previously secured a place, and took the road to
-London. I perceived, on entering the carriage, only one passenger, who
-had placed himself in the opposite corner, and in whom, to my great
-surprize, I immediately recognized Mr Montague. We had not met since the
-visit he had paid me at Mrs Harley's, the result of which I have already
-related: since that period, it had been reported in the village, that he
-addressed Sarah Morton, and that they were about to be united. Montague
-manifested equal surprize at our meeting: the intelligence of my
-friend's death (at which he expressed real concern) had not reached him,
-neither was he acquainted with my being in that part of the country. He
-had not lately been at Mr Morton's, he informed me, but had just left
-his father's, and was going to London to complete his medical studies.
-
-After these explanations, absorbed in painful contemplation, I for some
-time made little other return to his repeated civilities, than by cold
-monosyllables: till at length, his cordial sympathy, his gentle accents,
-and humane attentions, awakened me from my reverie. Ever accessible
-to the soothings of kindness, I endeavoured to exert myself, to prove
-the sense I felt of his humanity. Gratified by having succeeded in
-attracting my attention, he redoubled his efforts to cheer and amuse
-me. My dejected and languid appearance had touched his feelings, and,
-towards the end of our journey, his unaffected zeal to alleviate the
-anxiety under which I evidently appeared to labour, soothed my mind and
-inspired me with confidence.
-
-He respectfully requested to know in what part of the town I resided,
-and hoped to be permitted to pay his respects to me, and to enquire
-after my welfare? This question awakened in my bosom so many complicated
-and painful sensations, that, after remaining silent for a few minutes,
-I burst into a flood of tears.
-
-'I have no home;' said I, in a voice choaked with sobs--'I am an alien
-in the world--and alone in the universe.'
-
-His eyes glistened, his countenance expressed the most lively, and
-tender, commiseration, while, in a timid and respectful voice, he made
-me offers of service, and entreated me to permit him to be useful to me.
-
-'I then mentioned, in brief, my present unprotected situation, and
-hinted, that as my fortune was small, I could wish to procure a humble,
-but decent, apartment in a reputable family, till I had consulted one
-friend, who, I yet flattered myself, was interested in my concerns, or
-till I could fix on a more eligible method of providing for myself.'
-
-He informed me--'That he had a distant relation in town, a decent,
-careful, woman, who kept a boarding house, and whose terms were very
-reasonable. He was assured, would I permit him to introduce me to her,
-she would be happy, should her accommodation suit me, to pay me every
-attention in her power.'
-
-In my forlorn situation, I confided, without hesitation, in his
-recommendation, and gratefully acceded to the proposal.
-
-Mr Montague introduced me to this lady in the most flattering terms, she
-received me with civility, but, I fancied, not without a slight mixture
-of distrust. I agreed with her for a neat chamber, with a sitting room
-adjoining, on the second floor, and settled for the terms of my board,
-more than the whole amount of the interest of my little fortune.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVII
-
-
-I took an early opportunity of addressing a few lines to Mr Francis,
-informing him of my situation, and entreating his counsel. I waited a
-week, impatiently, for his reply, but in vain: well acquainted with his
-punctuality, and alarmed by this silence, I mentioned the step I had
-taken, and my apprehensions, to Montague, who immediately repaired,
-himself, to the house of Mr Francis; and, finding it shut up, was
-informed by the neighbours, that Mr Francis had quitted England, a
-short time before, in company with a friend, intending to make a
-continental tour.
-
-This intelligence was a new shock to me. I called on some of my former
-acquaintance, mentioning to them my wish of procuring pupils, or of
-engaging in any other occupation fitted to my talents. I was received by
-some with civility, by others with coldness, but every one appeared too
-much engrossed by his own affairs to give himself the trouble of making
-any great exertion for others.
-
-I returned dispirited--I walked through the crowded city, and observed
-the anxious and busy faces of all around me. In the midst of my fellow
-beings, occupied in various pursuits, I seemed, as if in an immense
-desart, a solitary outcast from society. Active, industrious, willing
-to employ my faculties in any way, by which I might procure an honest
-independence, I beheld no path open to me, but that to which my spirit
-could not submit--the degradation of servitude. Hapless woman!--crushed
-by the iron hand of barbarous despotism, pampered into weakness, and
-trained the slave of meretricious folly!--what wonder, that, shrinking
-from the chill blasts of penury (which the pernicious habits of thy
-education have little fitted thy tender frame to encounter) thou
-listenest to the honied accents of the spoiler; and, to escape the
-galling chain of servile dependence, rushest into the career of infamy,
-from whence the false and cruel morality of the world forbids thy
-return, and perpetuates thy disgrace and misery! When will mankind
-be aware of the uniformity, of the importance, of truth? When will
-they cease to confound, by sexual, by political, by theological,
-distinctions, those immutable principles, which form the true basis of
-virtue and happiness? The paltry expedients of combating error with
-error, and prejudice with prejudice, in one invariable and melancholy
-circle, have already been sufficiently tried, have already been
-demonstrated futile:--they have armed man against man, and filled the
-world with crimes, and with blood.--How has the benign and gentle nature
-of Reform been mistated! 'One false idea,' justly says an acute and
-philosophic writer,[20] 'united with others, produces such as are
-necessarily false; which, combining again with all those the memory
-retains, give to all a tinge of falsehood. One error, alone, is
-sufficient to infect the whole mass of the mind, and produce an infinity
-of capricious, monstrous, notions.--Every vice is the error of the
-understanding; crimes and prejudices are brothers; truth and virtue
-sisters. These things, known to the wise, are hid from fools!'
-
-      [Footnote 20: Helvetius.]
-
-Without a sufficiently interesting pursuit, a fatal torpor stole over my
-spirits--my blood circulated languidly through my veins. Montague, in
-the intervals from business and amusement, continued to visit me. He
-brought me books, read to me, chatted with me, pressed me to accompany
-him to places of public entertainment, which (determined to incur no
-pecuniary obligation) I invariably refused.
-
-I received his civilities with the less scruple, from the information
-I had received of his engagement with Miss Morton; which, with his
-knowledge of my unhappy attachment, I thought, precluded every idea
-of a renewal of those sentiments he had formerly professed for me.
-
-In return for his friendship, I tried to smile, and exerted my spirits,
-to prove my grateful sensibility of his kindness: but, while he appeared
-to take a lively interest in my sorrows, he carefully avoided a
-repetition of the language in which he had once addressed me; yet, at
-times, his tender concern seemed sliding into a sentiment still softer,
-which obliged me to practise more reserve: he was not insensible of
-this, and was frequently betrayed into transient bursts of passion and
-resentment, which, on my repelling with firmness, he would struggle to
-repress, and afterwards absent himself for a time.
-
-Unable to devise any method of increasing my income, and experiencing
-the pressure of some daily wants and inconveniencies, I determined, at
-length, on selling the sum invested, in my name, in the funds, and
-purchasing a life annuity.
-
-Recollecting the name of a banker, with whom my uncle, the friend of my
-infancy, had formerly kept cash, I learned his residence, and, waiting
-upon him, made myself known as the niece of an old and worthy friend;
-at the same time acquainting him with my intentions.--He offered to
-transact the affair for me immediately, the funds being, then, in a
-very favourable position; and to preserve the money in his hands till
-an opportunity should offer of laying it out to advantage. I gave him
-proper credentials for the accomplishing of this business, and returned
-to my apartment with a heart somewhat lightened. This scheme had
-never before occurred to me. The banker, who was a man of commercial
-reputation, had assured me, that my fortune might now be sold out with
-little loss; and that, by purchasing an annuity, on proper security, at
-seven or eight per cent, I might, with oeconomy, be enabled to support
-myself decently, with comfort and independence.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XVIII
-
-
-Some weeks elapsed, and I heard no more from my banker. A slight
-indisposition confined me to the house. One evening, Mr Montague, coming
-to my apartment to enquire after my health, brought with him a newspaper
-(as was his frequent custom), and, finding me unwell, and dispirited,
-began to read some parts from it aloud, in the hope of amusing me. Among
-the articles of home intelligence, a paragraph stated--'The failure of
-a considerable mercantile house, which had created an alarm upon the
-Exchange, as, it was apprehended, some important consequences would
-follow in the commercial world. A great banking-house, it was hinted,
-not many miles from ----, was likely to be affected, by some rumours, in
-connection with this business, which had occasioned a considerable run
-upon it for the last two or three days.'
-
-My attention was roused--I eagerly held out my hand for the paper, and
-perused this alarming paragraph again and again, without observing the
-surprize expressed in the countenance of Montague, who was at a loss to
-conceive why this intelligence should be affecting to me.--I sat, for some
-minutes, involved in thought, till a question from my companion, several
-times repeated, occasioned me to start. I immediately recollected myself,
-and tried to reason away my fears, as vague and groundless. I was about
-to explain the nature of them to my friend--secretly accusing myself for
-not having done so sooner, and availed myself of his advice, when a
-servant, entering, put a letter into his hand.
-
-Looking upon the seal and superscription, he changed colour, and opened
-it hastily. Strong emotion was painted in his features while he perused
-it. I regarded him with anxiety. He rose from his seat, walked up and
-down the room with a disordered pace--opened the door, as if with an
-intention of going out--shut it--returned back again--threw himself
-into a chair--covered his face with his handkerchief--appeared in great
-agitation--and burst into tears. I arose, went to him, and took his
-hand--'_My friend!_' said I--I would have added something more--but,
-unable to proceed, I sunk into a seat beside him, and wept in sympathy.
-He pressed my hand to his lips--folded me wildly in his arms, and
-attempted to speak--but his voice was lost in convulsive sobs. I gently
-withdrew myself, and waited, in silence, till the violence of his
-emotions should subside. He held out to me the letter he had received. I
-perused it. It contained an account of the sudden death of his father,
-and a summons for his immediate return to the country, to settle the
-affairs, and to take upon him his father's professional employment.
-
-'You leave me, then!' said I--'I lose my only remaining friend!'
-
-'_Never!_'--he replied, emphatically.
-
-I blushed for having uttered so improper, so selfish, a remark;
-and endeavoured to atone for it by forgetting the perils of my own
-situation, in attention to that of this ardent, but affectionate, young
-man.--His sufferings were acute and violent for some days, during which
-he quitted me only at the hours of repose--I devoted myself to sooth and
-console him. I felt, that I had been greatly indebted to his friendship
-and kindness, and I endeavoured to repay the obligation. He appeared
-fully sensible of my cares, and, mingled with his acknowledgments
-expressions of a tenderness, so lively, and unequivocal, as obliged me,
-once more, to be more guarded in my behaviour.
-
-In consideration for the situation of Mr Montague--I had forgotten
-the paragraph in the paper, till an accidental intelligence of the
-bankruptcy of the house, in which my little fortune was entrusted,
-confirmed to me the certainty of this terrible blow. Montague was
-sitting with me when I received the unwelcome news.
-
-'Gracious God!' I exclaimed, clasping my hands, and raising my eyes to
-heaven--'What is to become of me now?--The measure of my sorrows is
-filled up!'
-
-It was some time before I had power to explain the circumstances to my
-companion.
-
-'Do not distress yourself, my lovely Emma,' said he; 'I will be your
-friend--your guardian--' (and he added, in a low, yet fervent, accent)
---'_your husband_!'
-
-'No--no--no!' answered I, shaking my head, 'that must not, cannot, be!
-I would perish, rather than take advantage of a generosity like yours. I
-will go to service--I will work for my bread--and, if I cannot procure
-a wretched sustenance--_I can but die_! Life, to me, has long been
-worthless!'
-
-My countenance, my voice, my manner, but too forcibly expressed the
-keen anguish of my soul. I seemed to be marked out for the victim of a
-merciless destiny--_for the child of sorrow_! The susceptible temper of
-Montague, softened by his own affliction, was moved by my distress. He
-repeated, and enforced, his proposal, with all the ardour of a youthful,
-a warm, an uncorrupted, mind.
-
-'You add to my distress,' replied I. 'I have not a heart to bestow--I
-lavished mine upon one, who scorned and contemned it. Its sensibility is
-now exhausted. Shall I reward a faithful and generous tenderness, like
-yours, with a cold, a worthless, an alienated, mind? No, no!--Seek an
-object more worthy of you, and leave me to my fate.'
-
-At that moment, I had forgotten the report of his engagement with
-Miss Morton; but, on his persisting, vehemently, to urge his suit, I
-recollected, and immediately mentioned, it, to him. He confessed--
-
-'That, stung by my rejection, and preference of Mr Harley, he had, at
-one period, entertained a thought of that nature; but that he had fallen
-out with the family, in adjusting the settlements. Mrs Morton had
-persuaded her husband to make, what he conceived to be, ungenerous
-requisitions. Miss Morton had discovered much artifice, but little
-sensibility, on the occasion. Disgusted with the apathy of the father,
-the insolence of the mother and the low cunning of the daughter, he had
-abruptly quitted them, and broken off all intercourse with the family.'
-
-It is not necessary to enlarge on this part of my narrative. Suffice it
-to say, that, after a long contest, my desolate situation, added to the
-persevering affection of this enthusiastic young man, prevailed over my
-objections. His happiness, he told me, entirely depended on my decision.
-I would not deceive him:--I related to him, with simplicity and truth,
-all the circumstances of my past conduct towards Mr Harley. He listened
-to me with evident emotion--interrupted me, at times, with execrations;
-and, once or twice, vowing vengeance on Augustus, appeared on the verge
-of outrage. But I at length reasoned him into greater moderation, and
-obliged him to do justice to the merit and honour of Mr Harley. He
-acquiesced reluctantly, and with an ill grace, yet, with a lover-like
-partiality, attributed his conduct to causes, of which I had discerned
-no traces. He assured himself that the affections of a heart, tender as
-mine, would be secured by kindness and assiduity--and I at last yielded
-to his importunity. We were united in a short time, and I accompanied my
-husband to the town of ----, in the county of ----, the residence of his
-late father.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XIX
-
-
-Mr Montague presented me to his relations and friends, by whom I was
-received with a flattering distinction. My wearied spirits began now
-to find repose. My husband was much occupied in the duties of his
-profession. We had a respectable circle of acquaintance: In the
-intervals of social engagement, and domestic employment, ever thirsting
-after knowledge, I occasionally applied myself to the study of physic,
-anatomy, and surgery, with the various branches of science connected
-with them; by which means I frequently rendered myself essentially
-serviceable to my friend; and, by exercising my understanding and
-humanity, strengthened my mind, and stilled the importunate suggestions
-of a heart too exquisitely sensible.
-
-The manners of Mr Montague were kind and affectionate, though subject,
-at times, to inequalities and starts of passion; he confided in me,
-as his best and truest friend--and I deserved his confidence:--yet, I
-frequently observed the restlessness and impetuosity of his disposition
-with apprehension.
-
-I felt for my husband a rational esteem, and a grateful affection:--but
-those romantic, high-wrought, frenzied, emotions, that had rent my heart
-during its first attachment--that enthusiasm, that fanaticism, to which
-opposition had given force, the bare recollection of which still shook
-my soul with anguish, no longer existed. Montague was but too sensible
-of this difference, which naturally resulted from the change of
-circumstances, and was unreasonable enough to complain of what secured
-our tranquillity. If a cloud, sometimes, hung over my brow--if I
-relapsed, for a short period, into a too habitual melancholy, he would
-grow captious, and complain.
-
-'You esteem me, Emma: I confide in your principles, and I glory in your
-friendship--but, you have never _loved_ me!'
-
-'Why will you be so unjust, both to me, and to yourself?'
-
-'Tell me, then, sincerely--I know you will not deceive me--Have you ever
-felt for me those sentiments with which Augustus Harley inspired you?'
-
-'Certainly not--I do not pretend to it--neither ought you to wish it.
-My first attachment was the morbid excess of a distempered imagination.
-Liberty, reason, virtue, usefulness, were the offerings I carried to
-its shrine. It preyed incessantly upon my heart, I drank up its vital
-spirit, it became a vice from its excess--it was a pernicious, though a
-sublime, enthusiasm--its ravages are scarcely to be remembered without
-shuddering--all the strength, the dignity, the powers, of my mind, melted
-before it! Do you wish again to see me the slave of my passions--do you
-regret, that I am restored to reason? To you I owe every thing--life,
-and its comforts, rational enjoyments, and the opportunity of usefulness.
-I feel for you all the affection that a reasonable and a virtuous mind
-ought to feel--that affection which is compatible with the fulfilling
-of other duties. We are guilty of vice and selfishness when we yield
-ourselves up to unbounded desires, and suffer our hearts to be wholly
-absorbed by one object, however meritorious that object may be.'
-
-'Ah! how calmly you reason,--while I listen to you I cannot help loving
-and admiring you, but I must ever hate that accursed Harley--No! _I am
-not satisfied_--and I sometimes regret that I ever beheld you.'
-
-Many months glided away with but little interruptions to our
-tranquillity.--A remembrance of the past would at times obtrude itself,
-like the broken recollections of a feverish vision. To banish these
-painful retrospections, I hastened to employ myself; every hour was
-devoted to active usefulness, or to social and rational recreation.
-
-I became a mother; in performing the duties of a nurse, my affections
-were awakened to new and sweet emotions.--The father of my child
-appeared more respectable in my eyes, became more dear to me: the
-engaging smiles of my little Emma repayed me for every pain and every
-anxiety. While I beheld my husband caress his infant, I tasted a pure, a
-chaste, an ineffable pleasure.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XX
-
-
-About six weeks after my recovery from childbed, some affairs of
-importance called Mr Montague to London. Three days after he had quitted
-me, as, bending over the cradle of my babe, I contemplated in silence
-its tranquil slumbers, I was alarmed by an uncommon confusion in the
-lower part of the house. Hastening down stairs, to enquire into the
-cause, I was informed--that a gentleman, in passing through the town,
-had been thrown from his horse, that he was taken up senseless, and, as
-was customary in cases of accident, had been brought into our house,
-that he might receive assistance.
-
-Mr Montague was from home, a young gentleman who resided with us, and
-assisted my husband in his profession, was also absent, visiting a
-patient. Having myself acquired some knowledge of surgery, I went
-immediately into the hall to give the necessary directions on the
-occasion. The gentleman was lying on the floor, without any signs of
-life. I desired the people to withdraw, who, crowding round with
-sincere, but useless sympathy, obstructed the circulation of air.
-Approaching the unfortunate man, I instantly recognised the well-known
-features, though much altered, wan and sunk, of _Augustus Harley_.
-Staggering a few paces backward--a death-like sickness overspread my
-heart--a crowd of confused and terrible emotions rushed through my
-mind.--But a momentary reflection recalled my scattered thoughts. Once
-before, I had saved from death an object so fatal to my repose. I
-exerted all my powers, his hair was clotted, and his face disfigured
-with blood; I ordered the servants to raise and carry him to an
-adjoining apartment, wherein was a large, low sopha, on which they laid
-him. Carefully washing the blood from the wound, I found he had received
-a dangerous contusion in his head, but that the scull, as I had at first
-apprehended, was not fractured. I cut the hair from the wounded part,
-and applied a proper bandage. I did more--no other assistance being at
-hand, I ventured to open a vein: the blood presently flowed freely, and
-he began to revive. I bathed his temples, and sprinkled the room with
-vinegar, opened the windows to let the air pass freely through, raised
-his head with the pillows of the sopha, and sprinkled his face and
-breast with cold water. I held his hand in mine--I felt the languid and
-wavering pulse quicken--I fixed my eyes upon his face--at that moment
-every thing else was forgotten, and my nerves seemed firmly braced by my
-exertions.
-
-He at length opened his eyes, gazed upon me with a vacant look, and
-vainly attempted, for some time, to speak. At last, he uttered a few
-incoherent words, but I perceived his senses were wandering, and I
-conjectured, too truly, that his brain had received a concussion. He
-made an effort to rise, but sunk down again.
-
-'Where am I,' said he, 'every object appears to me double.'
-
-He shut his eyes, and remained silent. I mixed for him a cordial and
-composing medicine, and entreating him to take it, he once more raised
-himself, and looked up.--Our eyes met, his were wild and unsettled.
-
-'That voice,'--said he, in a low tone, 'that countenance--Oh God! where
-am I?'
-
-A strong, but transient, emotion passed over his features. With a
-trembling hand he seized and swallowed the medicine I had offered, and
-again relapsed into a kind of lethargic stupor. I then gave orders for a
-bed to be prepared, into which I had him conveyed. I darkened the room,
-and desired, that he might be kept perfectly quiet.
-
-I retired to my apartment, my confinement was yet but recent, and I had
-not perfectly recovered my strength. Exhausted by the strong efforts I
-had made, and the stronger agitation of my mind, I sunk into a fainting
-fit, (to which I was by no means subject) and remained for some time
-in a state of perfect insensibility. On my recovery, I learnt that Mr
-Lucas, the assistant of my husband, had returned, and was in the chamber
-of the stranger; I sent for him on his quitting the apartment, and
-eagerly interrogated him respecting the state of the patient. He shook
-his head--I related to him the methods I had taken, and enquired whether
-I had erred? He smiled--
-
-'You are an excellent surgeon,' said he, 'you acted very properly, but,'
-observing my pallid looks, 'I wish your little nursery may not suffer
-from your humanity'--
-
-'I lay no claim,' replied I with emotion--'to extraordinary humanity--I
-would have done the same for the poorest of my fellow creatures--but
-this gentleman is an old acquaintance, _a friend_, whom, in the early
-periods of my life, I greatly respected.'
-
-'I am sorry for it, for I dare not conceal from you, that I think him in
-a dangerous condition.'
-
-I changed countenance--'There is no fracture, no bones are broken.'--
-
-'No, but the brain has received an alarming concussion--he is also,
-otherwise, much bruised, and, I fear, has suffered some internal
-injury.'
-
-'You distress and terrify me,' said I, gasping for breath--'What is to
-be done--shall we call in further advice?'
-
-'I think so; in the mean time, if you are acquainted with his friends,
-you would do well to apprize them of what has happened.'
-
-'I know little of them, I know not where to address them--Oh! save him,'
-continued I, clasping my hands with encreased emotion, unconscious of
-what I did, 'for God's sake save him, if you would preserve me from
-dis--'
-
-A look penetrating and curious from Lucas, recalled me to reason.
-Commending his patient to my care, he quitted me, and rode to the next
-town to procure the aid of a skilful and experienced Physician. I walked
-up and down the room for some time in a state of distraction.
-
-'He will die'--exclaimed I--'die in my house--fatal accident! Oh,
-Augustus! _too tenderly beloved_, thou wert fated to be the ruin of my
-peace! But, whatever may be the consequences, I will perform, for thee,
-the last tender offices.--I will not desert my duty!'
-
-The nurse brought to me my infant, it smiled in my face--I pressed it to
-my bosom--I wept over it.--How could I, from that agitated bosom, give
-it a pernicious sustenance?
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXI
-
-
-In the evening, I repaired to the chamber of Mr Harley, I sat by his
-bed-side, I gazed mournfully on his flushed, but vacant countenance--I
-took his hand--it was dry and burning--the pulse beat rapidly, but
-irregularly, beneath my trembling fingers. His lips moved, he seemed to
-speak, though inarticulately--but sometimes raising his voice, I could
-distinguish a few incoherent sentences. In casting my eyes round the
-room, I observed the scattered articles of his dress, his cloaths were
-black, and in his hat, which lay on the ground, I discovered a crape
-hatband. I continued to hold his burning hand in mine.
-
-'She died,'--said he--'and my unkindness killed her--unhappy Emma--thy
-heart was too tender!'--I shuddered--'No, no,'--continued he, after a
-few minutes pause, 'she is not married--she dared not give her hand
-without her heart, _and that heart was only mine_!' he added something
-more, in a lower tone, which I was unable to distinguish.
-
-Overcome by a variety of sensations, I sunk into a chair, and, throwing
-my handkerchief over my face, indulged my tears.
-
-Sometimes he mentioned his wife, sometimes his mother.--At length,
-speaking rapidly, in a raised voice--'My son,'--said he, 'thou hast no
-mother--but Emma will be a mother to thee--she will love thee--_she
-loved thy father_--her heart was the residence of gentle
-affections--yet, I pierced that heart!'
-
-I suspected, that a confused recollection of having seen me on
-recovering from the state of insensibility, in which he had been
-brought, after the accident, into our house, had probably recalled the
-associations formerly connected with this idea. The scene became too
-affecting: I rushed from the apartment. All the past impressions seemed
-to revive in my mind--my thoughts, with fatal mechanism, ran back into
-their old and accustomed channels.--For a moment, conjugal, maternal,
-duties, every consideration _but for one object_ faded from before me!
-
-In a few hours, Mr Lucas returned with the physician;--I attended
-them to the chamber, heedfully watching their looks. The fever still
-continued very high, accompanied with a labouring, unsteady pulse, a
-difficult respiration, and strong palpitations of the heart. The doctor
-said little, but I discovered his apprehensions in his countenance. The
-patient appeared particularly restless and uneasy, and the delirium
-still continued. On quitting the apartment, I earnestly conjured the
-gentlemen to tell me their opinion of the case. They both expressed an
-apprehension of internal injury.
-
-'But a short time,' they added, 'would determine it; in the mean while
-he must be kept perfectly still.'
-
-I turned from them, and walked to the window--I raised my eyes to
-heaven--I breathed an involuntary ejaculation--I felt that the crisis
-of my fate was approaching, and I endeavoured to steel my nerves--to
-prepare my mind for the arduous duties which awaited me.
-
-Mr Lucas approached me, the physician having quitted the room. '_Mrs
-Montague_,' said he, in an emphatic tone--'in your sympathy for a
-_stranger_, do not forget other relations.'
-
-'I do not need, sir, to be reminded by you of my duties; were not the
-sufferings of a fellow being a sufficient claim upon our humanity, this
-gentleman has _more affecting claims_--I am neither a stranger to him,
-nor to his virtues.'
-
-'So I perceive, madam,' said he, with an air a little sarcastic, 'I
-wish, Mr Montague were here to participate your cares.'
-
-'I wish he were, sir, his generous nature would not disallow them.' I
-spoke haughtily, and abruptly left him.
-
-I took a turn in the garden, endeavouring to compose my spirits, and,
-after visiting the nursery, returned to the chamber of Mr Harley. I
-there found Mr Lucas, and in a steady tone, declared my intention of
-watching his patient through the night.
-
-'As you please, madam,' said he coldly.
-
-I seated myself in an easy chair, reclining my head on my hand. The bed
-curtains were undrawn on the side next me. Augustus frequently started,
-as from broken slumbers; his respiration grew, every moment, more
-difficult and laborious, and, sometimes, he groaned heavily, as if in
-great pain. Once he suddenly raised himself in the bed, and, gazing
-wildly round the room, exclaimed in a distinct, but hurried tone--
-
-'Why dost thou persecute me with thy ill-fated tenderness? A fathomless
-gulf separates us!--Emma!' added he, in a plaintive voice, '_dost thou,
-indeed, still love me?_' and, heaving a convulsive sigh, sunk again on
-his pillow.
-
-Mr Lucas, who stood at the feet of the bed, turned his eye on me. I
-met his glance with the steady aspect of conscious rectitude. About
-midnight, our patient grew worse, and, after strong agonies, was seized
-with a vomiting of blood. The fears of the physician were but too well
-verified, he had again ruptured the blood-vessel, once before broken.
-
-Mr Lucas had but just retired, I ordered him to be instantly recalled,
-and, stifling every feeling, that might incapacitate me for active
-exertion, I rendered him all the assistance in my power--I neither
-trembled, nor shed a tear--I banished the _woman_ from my heart--I
-acquitted myself with a firmness that would not have disgraced the most
-experienced, and veteran surgeon. My services were materially useful,
-my solicitude vanquished every shrinking sensibility, _affection had
-converted me into a heroine_! The hæmorrhage continued, at intervals,
-all the next day: I passed once or twice from the chamber to the
-nursery, and immediately returned. We called in a consultation, but
-little hope was afforded.
-
-The next night, Mr Lucas and myself continued to watch--towards morning
-our exhausted patient sunk into an apparently tranquil slumber. Mr Lucas
-intreated me to retire, and take some repose, on my refusal, he availed
-himself of the opportunity, and went to his apartment, desiring to be
-called if any change should take place. The nurse slept soundly in her
-chair, I alone remained watching--I felt neither fatigue nor languor--my
-strength seemed preserved as by a miracle, so omnipotent is the
-operation of moral causes!
-
-Silence reigned throughout the house; I hung over the object of my
-tender cares--his features were serene--but his cheeks and lips were
-pale and bloodless. From time to time I took his lifeless hand--a low,
-fluttering, pulse, sometimes seeming to stop, and then to vibrate with a
-tremulous motion, but too plainly justified my fears--his breath, though
-less laborious, was quick and short--a cold dew hung upon his temples--I
-gently wiped them with my handkerchief, and pressed my lips to his
-forehead. Yet, at that moment, that solemn moment--while I beheld the
-object of my virgin affections--whom I had loved with a tenderness,
-'passing the love of woman'--expiring before my eyes--I forgot not that
-I was a wife and a mother.--The purity of my feelings sanctified their
-enthusiasm!
-
-The day had far advanced, though the house still remained quiet, when
-Augustus, after a deep drawn sigh, opened his eyes. The loss of blood
-had calmed the delirium, and though he regarded me attentively, and with
-evident surprize, the wildness of his eyes and countenance had given
-place to their accustomed steady expression. He spoke in a faint voice.
-
-'Where am I, how came I here?'
-
-I drew nearer to him--'An unfortunate accident has thrown you into the
-care of kind friends--you have been very ill--it is not proper that you
-should exert yourself--rely on those to whom your safety is precious.'
-
-He looked at me as I spoke--his eyes glistened--he breathed a half
-smothered sigh, but attempted not to reply. He continued to doze at
-intervals throughout the day, but evidently grew weaker every hour--I
-quitted him not for a moment, even my nursery was forgotten. I sat, or
-knelt, at the bed's head, and, between his short and broken slumbers,
-administered cordial medicines. He seemed to take them with pleasure
-from my hand, and a mournful tenderness at times beamed in his eyes. I
-neither spake nor wept--my strength appeared equal to every trial.
-
-In the evening, starting from a troubled sleep, he fell into
-convulsions--I kept my station--our efforts were successful--he again
-revived. I supported the pillows on which his head reclined, sprinkled
-the bed cloaths, and bathed his temples, with hungary water, while I
-wiped from them the damps of death. A few tears at length forced their
-way, they fell upon his hand, which rested on the pillow--he kissed them
-off, and raised to mine his languid eyes, in which death was already
-painted.
-
-The blood forsaking the extremities, rushed wildly to my heart, a strong
-palpitation seized it, my fortitude had well nigh forsaken me. But I
-had been habituated to subdue my feelings, and should I suffer them
-to disturb the last moments of him, _who had taught me this painful
-lesson_? He made a sign for a cordial, an attendant offering one--he
-waved his hand and turned from her his face--I took it--held it to
-his lips, and he instantly drank it. Another strong emotion shook my
-nerves--once more I struggled and gained the victory. He spoke in feeble
-and interrupted periods--kneeling down, scarce daring to breathe, I
-listened.
-
-'I have a son,' said he,--'I am dying--he will have no longer a
-parent--transfer to him a portion of--'
-
-'I comprehend you--say no more--_he is mine_--I adopt him--where shall I
-find--?'
-
-He pointed to his cloaths;--'a pocket book'--said he, in accents still
-fainter.
-
-'Enough!--I swear, in this awful moment, never to forsake him.'
-
-He raised my hand to his lips--a tender smile illumined his countenance
---'Surely,' said he, 'I have sufficiently fulfilled the dictates of
-a rigid honour!--In these last moments--when every earthly tie is
-dissolving--when human institutions fade before my sight--I may,
-without a crime, tell you--_that I have loved you_.--Your tenderness
-early penetrated my heart--aware of its weakness--I sought to shun
-you--I imposed on myself those severe laws of which you causelessly
-complained.--Had my conduct been less rigid, I had been lost--I had been
-unjust to the bonds which I had voluntarily contracted; and which,
-therefore, had on me indispensible claims. I acted from good motives,
-but no doubt, was guilty of some errors--yet, my conflicts were,
-even, more cruel than yours--I had not only to contend against my own
-sensibility, but against yours also.--The fire which is pent up burns
-the fiercest!'--
-
-He ceased to speak--a transient glow, which had lighted up his
-countenance, faded--exhausted, by the strong effort he had made, he sunk
-back--his eyes grew dim--they closed--_their last light beamed on
-me_!--I caught him in my arms--and--_he awoke no more_. The spirits,
-that had hitherto supported me, suddenly subsided. I uttered a piercing
-shriek, and sunk upon the body.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXII
-
-
-Many weeks passed of which I have no remembrance, they were a blank in
-my life--a long life of sorrow! When restored to recollection, I found
-myself in my own chamber, my husband attending me. It was a long time
-before I could clearly retrace the images of the past. I learned--
-
-'That I had been seized with a nervous fever, in consequence of having
-exerted myself beyond my strength; that my head had been disordered;
-that Mr Montague on his return, finding me in this situation, of which
-Mr Lucas had explained the causes, had been absorbed in deep affliction;
-that, inattentive to every other concern, he had scarcely quitted my
-apartment; that my child had been sent out to nurse; and that my
-recovery had been despaired of.'
-
-My constitution was impaired by these repeated shocks. I continued
-several months in a low and debilitated state.--With returning reason,
-I recalled to my remembrance the charge which Augustus had consigned to
-me in his last moments. I enquired earnestly for the pocket-book he had
-mentioned, and was informed, that, after his decease, it had been found,
-and its contents examined, which were a bank note of fifty pounds, some
-letters, and memorandums. Among the letters was one from his brother,
-by which means they had learned his address, and had been enabled to
-transmit to him an account of the melancholy catastrophe, and to request
-his orders respecting the disposal of the body. On the receipt of this
-intelligence, the younger Mr Harley had come immediately into ----shire,
-had received his brother's effects, and had his remains decently and
-respectfully interred in the town where the fatal accident had taken
-place, through which he was passing in his way to visit a friend.
-
-As soon as I had strength to hold a pen, I wrote to this gentleman,
-mentioning the tender office which had been consigned to me; and
-requesting that the child, or children, of Mr Augustus Harley, might be
-consigned to my care. To this letter I received an answer, in a few
-days, hinting--
-
-'That the marriage of my deceased friend had not been more imprudent
-than unfortunate; that he had struggled with great difficulties and many
-sorrows; that his wife had been dead near a twelve-month; that he had
-lost two of his children, about the same period, with the small-pox, one
-only surviving, the younger, a son, a year and a half old; that it was,
-at present, at nurse, under his (his brother's) protection; that his
-respect for me, and knowledge of my friendship for their family, added
-to his wish of complying with every request of his deceased brother,
-prevented him from hesitating a moment respecting the propriety of
-yielding the child to my care; that it should be delivered to any person
-whom I should commission for the purpose; and that I might draw upon him
-for the necessary charges towards the support and education of his
-nephew.'
-
-I mentioned to Mr Montague these particulars, with a desire of availing
-myself of his counsel and assistance on the occasion.
-
-'You are free, madam,' he replied, with a cold and distant air, 'to act
-as you shall think proper; but you must excuse me from making myself
-responsible in this affair.'
-
-I sighed deeply. I perceived, but too plainly, that _a mortal blow was
-given to my tranquillity_; but I determined to persevere in what I
-considered to be my duty. On the retrospect of my conduct, my heart
-acquitted me; and I endeavoured to submit, without repining, to my fate.
-
-I was, at this period, informed by a faithful servant, who attended me
-during my illness, of what I had before but too truly conjectured--That
-in my delirium I had incessantly called upon the name of Augustus Harley,
-and repeated, at intervals, in broken language, the circumstances of our
-last tender and fatal interview: this, with some particulars related
-by Mr Lucas to Mr Montague on his return, had, it seems, at the time,
-inflamed the irascible passions of my husband, almost to madness. His
-transports had subsided, by degrees, into gloomy reserve: he had watched
-me, till my recovery, with unremitting attention; since which his
-confidence and affection became, every day, more visibly alienated.
-Self-respect suppressed my complaints--conscious of deserving, even more
-than ever, his esteem, I bore his caprice with patience, trusting that
-time, and my conduct, would restore him to reason, and awaken in his
-heart a sense of justice.
-
-I sent for my babe from the house of the nurse, to whose care it had
-been confided during my illness, and placed the little Augustus in its
-stead. 'It is unnecessary, my friend, to say, that you were that lovely
-and interesting child.--Oh! with what emotion did I receive, and press,
-you to my care-worn bosom; retracing in your smiling countenance the
-features of your unfortunate father! Adopting you for my own, I divided
-my affection between you and my Emma. Scarce a day passed that I did
-not visit the cottage of your nurse. I taught you to call me by the
-endearing name of _mother_! I delighted to see you caress my infant with
-fraternal tenderness--I endeavoured to cherish this growing affection,
-and found a sweet relief from my sorrows in these tender, maternal,
-cares.'
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIII
-
-
-My health being considerably injured, I had taken a young woman into my
-house, to assist me in the nursery, and in other domestic offices. She
-was in her eighteenth year--simple, modest, and innocent. This girl had
-resided with me for some months. I had been kind to her, and she
-seemed attached to me. One morning, going suddenly into Mr Montague's
-dressing-room, I surprised Rachel sitting on a sopha with her master:--he
-held her hand in his, while his arm was thrown round her waist; and they
-appeared to be engaged in earnest conversation. They both started, on my
-entrance:--Unwilling to encrease their confusion, I quitted the room.
-
-Montague, on our meeting at dinner, affected an air of unconcern; but
-there was an apparent constraint in his behaviour. I preserved towards
-him my accustomed manner, till the servants had withdrawn. I then mildly
-expostulated with him on the impropriety of his behaviour. His replies
-were not more unkind than ungenerous--they pierced my heart.
-
-'It is well, sir, I am inured to suffering; but it is not of _myself_
-that I would speak. I have not deserved to lose your confidence--this
-is my consolation;--yet, I submit to it:--but I cannot see you act in a
-manner, that will probably involve you in vexation, and intail upon you
-remorse, without warning you of your danger. Should you corrupt the
-innocence of this girl, she is emphatically _ruined_. It is the strong
-mind only, that, firmly resting on its own powers, can sustain and
-recover itself amidst the world's scorn and injustice. The morality of
-an uncultivated understanding, is that of _custom_, not of reason: break
-down the feeble barrier, and there is nothing to supply its place--you
-open the flood-gates of infamy and wretchedness. Who can say where the
-evil may stop?'
-
-'You are at liberty to discharge your servant, when you please, madam.'
-
-'I think it my duty to do so, Mr Montague--not on my own, but on _her_,
-account. If I have no claim upon your affection and principles, I would
-disdain to watch your conduct. But I feel myself attached to this young
-woman, and would wish to preserve her from destruction!'
-
-'You are very generous, but as you thought fit to bestow on me your
-_hand_, when your _heart_ was devoted to another--'
-
-'It is enough, sir!--To your justice, only, in your cooler moments,
-would I appeal!'
-
-I procured for Rachel a reputable place, in a distant part of the
-county.--Before she quitted me, I seriously, and affectionately,
-remonstrated with her on the consequences of her behaviour. She answered
-me only with tears and blushes.
-
-In vain I tried to rectify the principles, and subdue the cruel
-prejudices, of my husband. I endeavoured to shew him every mark of
-affection and confidence. I frequently expostulated with him, upon
-his conduct, with tears--urged him to respect himself and me--strove
-to convince him of the false principles upon which he acted--of the
-senseless and barbarous manner in which he was sacrificing my peace, and
-his own, to a romantic chimera. Sometimes he would appear, for a moment,
-melted with my tender and fervent entreaties.
-
-'Would to God!' he would say, with emotion, 'the last six months of my
-life could be obliterated for ever from my remembrance!'
-
-He was no longer active, and chearful: he would sit, for hours, involved
-in deep and gloomy silence. When I brought the little Emma, to soften,
-by her engaging caresses, the anxieties by which his spirits appeared
-to be overwhelmed, he would gaze wildly upon her--snatch her to his
-breast--and then, suddenly throwing her from him, rush out of the house;
-and, inattentive to the duties of his profession, absent himself for
-days and nights together:--his temper grew, every hour, more furious and
-unequal.
-
-He by accident, one evening, met the little Augustus, as his nurse was
-carrying him from my apartment; and, breaking rudely into the room,
-overwhelmed me with a torrent of abuse and reproaches. I submitted
-to his injustice with silent grief--my spirits were utterly broken.
-At times, he would seem to be sensible of the impropriety of his
-conduct--would execrate himself and entreat my forgiveness;--but
-quickly relapsed into his accustomed paroxysms, which, from having
-been indulged, were now become habitual, and uncontroulable. These
-agitations seemed daily to encrease--all my efforts to regain his
-confidence--my patient, unremitted, attentions--were fruitless. He
-shunned me--he appeared, even, to regard me with horror. I wept in
-silence. The hours which I passed with my children afforded me my only
-consolation--they became painfully dear to me. Attending to their little
-sports, and innocent gambols, I forgot, for a moment, my griefs.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXIV
-
-
-Some months thus passed away, with little variation in my situation.
-Returning home one morning, early, from the nurse's, where I had left my
-Emma with Augustus (whom I never, now, permitted to be brought to my own
-house) as I entered, Mr Montague shot suddenly by me, and rushed up
-stairs towards his apartment. I saw him but transiently, as he passed;
-but his haggard countenance, and furious gestures, filled me with
-dismay. He had been from home the preceding night; but to these absences
-I had lately been too much accustomed to regard them as any thing
-extraordinary. I hesitated a few moments, whether I should follow him.
-I feared, lest I might exasperate him by so doing; yet, the unusual
-disorder of his appearance gave me a thousand terrible and nameless
-apprehensions. I crept toward the door of his apartment--listened
-attentively, and heard him walking up and down the room, with hasty
-steps--sometimes he appeared to stop, and groaned heavily:--once I
-heard him throw up the sash, and shut it again with violence.
-
-I attempted to open the door, but, finding it locked, my terror
-increased.--I knocked gently, but could not attract his attention. At
-length I recollected another door, that led to this apartment, through
-my own chamber, which was fastened on the outside, and seldom opened.
-With trembling steps I hurried round, and, on entering the room,
-beheld him sitting at a table, a pen in his hand, and paper before
-him. On the table lay his pistols--his hair was dishevelled--his
-dress disordered--his features distorted with emotion--while in his
-countenance was painted the extreme of horror and despair.
-
-I uttered a faint shriek, and sunk into a chair. He started from his
-seat, and, advancing towards me with hurried and tremulous steps,
-sternly demanded, Why I intruded on his retirement? I threw myself
-at his feet,--I folded my arms round him--I wept--I deprecated his
-anger--I entreated to be heard--I said all that humanity, all that the
-most tender and lively sympathy could suggest, to inspire him with
-confidence--to induce him to relieve, by communication, the burthen
-which oppressed his heart.--He struggled to free himself from me--my
-apprehensions gave me strength--I held him with a strenuous grasp--he
-raved--he stamped--he tore his hair--his passion became frenzy! At
-length, forcibly bursting from him, I fell on the floor, and the blood
-gushed from my nose and lips. He shuddered convulsively--stood a few
-moments, as if irresolute--and, then, throwing himself beside me, raised
-me from the ground; and, clasping me to his heart, which throbbed
-tumultuously, burst into a flood of tears.
-
-'I will not be thy _murderer_, Emma!' said he, in a voice of agony,
-interrupted by heart-rending sobs--'I have had enough of blood!'
-
-I tried to sooth him--I assured him I was not hurt--I besought him to
-confide his sorrows to the faithful bosom of his wife! He appeared
-softened--his tears flowed without controul.
-
-'Unhappy woman!--you know not what you ask! To be ingenuous, belongs
-to purity like yours!--Guilt, black as hell!--conscious, aggravated,
-damnable, guilt!--_Your fatal attachment_--my accursed jealousy!--Ah!
-Emma! I have injured you--but you are, indeed, revenged!'
-
-Every feature seemed to work--seemed pregnant with dreadful meaning--he
-was relapsing into frenzy.
-
-'Be calm, my friend--be not unjust to yourself--you can have committed
-no injury that I shall not willingly forgive--you are incapable of
-persisting in guilt. The ingenuous mind, that avows, has already made
-half the reparation. Suffer me to learn the source of your inquietude! I
-may find much to extenuate--I may be able to convince you, that you are
-too severe to yourself.'
-
-'Never, never, never!--nothing can extenuate--_the expiation must be
-made_!--Excellent, admirable, woman!--Remember, without hating, the
-wretch who has been unworthy of you--who could not conceive, who knew
-not how to estimate, your virtues!--Oh!--do not--do not'--straining me
-to his bosom--'curse my memory!'
-
-He started from the ground, and, in a moment, was out of sight.
-
-I raised myself with difficulty--faint, tottering, gasping for breath, I
-attempted to descend the stairs. I had scarcely reached the landing-place,
-when a violent knocking at the door shook my whole frame. I stood still,
-clinging to the balustrade, unable to proceed. I heard a chaise draw
-up--a servant opening the door--a plain-looking countryman alighted, and
-desired instantly to speak to the lady of the house--his business was,
-he said, of life and death! I advanced towards him, pale and trembling!
-
-'What is the matter, my friend--whence came you?'
-
-'I cannot stop, lady, to explain myself--you must come with me--I will
-tell you more as we go along.'
-
-'Do you come,' enquired I, in a voice scarcely articulate, 'from my
-husband?'
-
-'No--no--I come from a person who is dying, who has somewhat of
-consequence to impart to you--Hasten, lady--there is no time to lose!'
-
-'Lead, then, I follow you.'
-
-He helped me into the chaise, and we drove off with the rapidity of
-lightning.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXV
-
-
-I asked no more questions on the road, but attempted to fortify my mind
-for the scenes which, I foreboded, were approaching. After about an
-hour's ride, we stopped at a small, neat, cottage, embosomed in trees,
-standing alone, at a considerable distance from the high-road. A
-decent-looking, elderly, woman, came to the door, at the sound of the
-carriage, and assisted me to alight. In her countenance were evident
-marks of perturbation and horror. I asked for a glass of water; and,
-having drank it, followed the woman, at her request, up stairs. She
-seemed inclined to talk, but I gave her no encouragement--I knew not
-what awaited me, nor what exertions might be requisite--I determined not
-to exhaust my spirits unnecessarily.
-
-On entering a small chamber, I observed a bed, with the curtains closely
-drawn. I advanced towards it, and, unfolding them, beheld the unhappy
-Rachel lying in a state of apparent insensibility.
-
-'She is dying,' whispered the woman, 'she has been in strong
-convulsions; but she could not die in peace without seeing Madam
-Montague, and obtaining her forgiveness.'
-
-I approached the unfortunate girl, and took her lifeless hand.--A
-feeble pulse still trembled--I gazed upon her, for some moments, in
-silence.--She heaved a deep sigh--her lips moved, inarticulately. She,
-at length, opened her eyes, and, fixing them upon me, the blood seemed
-to rush through her languid frame--reanimating it. She sprung up in the
-bed, and, clasping her hands together, uttered a few incoherent words.
-
-'Be pacified, my dear--I am not angry with you--I feel only pity.'
-
-She looked wildly. 'Ah! my dear lady, I am a wicked girl--but not--Oh,
-no!--_not a murderer!_ I did not--indeed, I did not--murder my child!'
-
-A cold tremor seized me--I turned heart-sick--a sensation of horror
-thrilled through my veins!
-
-'My dear, my kind mistress,' resumed the wretched girl, 'can you forgive
-me?--Oh! that cruel, barbarous, man!--It was _he_ who did it--indeed, it
-was _he_ who did it!' Distraction glared in her eyes.
-
-'I do forgive you,' said I, in broken accents. 'I will take care of
-you--but you must be calm.'
-
-'I will--I will'--replied she, in a rapid tone of voice--'but do not
-send me to prison--_I did not murder it!_--Oh! my child, my child!'
-continued she, in a screaming tone of frantic violence, and was again
-seized with strong convulsions.
-
-We administered all the assistance in our power. I endeavoured, with
-success, to stifle my emotions in the active duties of humanity. Rachel
-once more revived. After earnestly commending her to the care of the
-good woman of the house, and promising to send medicines and nourishment
-proper for her situation, and to reward their attentions--desiring
-that she might be kept perfectly still, and not be suffered to talk on
-subjects that agitated her--I quitted the place, presaging but too much,
-and not having, at that time, the courage to make further enquiries.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVI
-
-
-On entering my own house my heart misgave me. I enquired, with
-trepidation, for my husband, and was informed--'That he had returned
-soon after my departure, and had shut himself in his apartment; that, on
-being followed by Mr Lucas, he had turned fiercely upon him, commanding
-him, in an imperious tone, instantly to leave him; adding, he had affairs
-of importance to transact; and should any one dare to intrude on him,
-it would be at the peril of their lives.' All the family appeared in
-consternation, but no one had presumed to disobey the orders of their
-master.--They expressed their satisfaction at my return--Alas! I was
-impotent to relieve the apprehensions which, I too plainly perceived,
-had taken possession of their minds.
-
-I retired to my chamber, and, with a trembling hand, traced, and
-addressed to my husband, a few incoherent lines--briefly hinting my
-suspicions respecting the late transactions--exhorting him to provide
-for his safety, and offering to be the companion of his flight. I
-added--'Let us reap wisdom from these tragical consequences of _indulged
-passion_! It is not to atone for the past error, by cutting off the
-prospect of future usefulness--Repentance for what can never be
-recalled, is absurd and vain, but as it affords a lesson for the time
-to come--do not let us wilfully forfeit the fruits of our dear-bought
-experience! I will never reproach you! Virtuous resolution, and time,
-may yet heal these aggravated wounds. Dear Montague, be no longer
-the slave of error; inflict not on my tortured mind new, and more
-insupportable, terrors! I await your directions--let us fly--let us
-summon our fortitude--let us, at length, bravely stem the tide of
-passion--let us beware of the criminal pusillanimity of despair!'
-
-With faultering steps, I sought the apartment of my husband. I listened
-a moment at the door--and hearing him in motion, while profound sighs
-burst every instant from his bosom, I slid my paper under the door,
-unfolded, that it might be the more likely to attract his attention.
-Presently, I had the satisfaction of hearing him take it up. After some
-minutes, a slip of paper was returned, by the same method which I had
-adopted, in which was written, in characters blotted, and scarcely
-legible, the following words--
-
-'Leave me, one half hour, to my reflections: at the end of that period,
-be assured, I will see, or write, to you.'
-
-I knew him to be incapable of falsehood--my heart palpitated with hope.
-I went to my chamber, and passed the interval in a thousand cruel
-reflections, and vague plans for our sudden departure. Near an hour
-had elapsed, when the bell rang. I started, breathless, from my seat.
-A servant passed my door, to take his master's orders. He returned
-instantly, and, meeting me in the passage, delivered to me a letter.
-I heard Montague again lock the door.--Disappointed, I re-entered my
-chamber. In my haste to get at the contents of the paper, I almost tore
-it in pieces--the words swam before my sight. I held it for some moments
-in my hand, incapable of decyphering the fatal characters. I breathed
-with difficulty--all the powers of life seemed suspended--when the
-report of a pistol roused me to a sense of confused horror.--Rushing
-forward, I burst, with preternatural strength, into the apartment of my
-husband--What a spectacle!--Assistance was vain!--Montague--the impetuous,
-ill-fated, Montague--_was no more--was a mangled corpse_!--Rash,
-unfortunate, young, man!
-
-But, why should I harrow up your susceptible mind, by dwelling on
-these cruel scenes? _Ah! suffer me to spread a veil over this fearful
-catastrophe!_ Some time elapsed ere I had fortitude to examine the paper
-addressed to me by my unfortunate husband. Its contents, which were as
-follows, affected me with deep and mingled emotions.
-
-
-      TO MRS MONTAGUE.
-
-      'Amidst the reflections which press, by turns, upon my
-      burning brain, an obscure consciousness of the prejudices
-      upon which my character has been formed, is not the least
-      torturing--because I feel the _inveterate force of habit_--I
-      feel, that my convictions come too late!
-
-      'I have destroyed myself, and you, dearest, most generous,
-      and most unfortunate, of women! I am a monster!--I have
-      seduced innocence, and embrued my hands in blood!--Oh,
-      God!--Oh, God!--_'Tis there distraction lies!_--I would,
-      circumstantially, retrace my errors; but my disordered mind,
-      and quivering hand, refuse the cruel task--yet, it is
-      necessary that I should attempt a brief sketch.
-
-      'After the cruel accident, which destroyed our tranquillity,
-      I nourished my senseless jealousies (the sources of
-      which I need not, now, recapitulate), till I persuaded
-      myself--injurious wretch that I was!--that I had been
-      perfidiously and ungenerously treated. Stung by false pride,
-      I tried to harden my heart, and foolishly thirsted for
-      revenge. Your meekness, and magnanimity, disappointed me.--I
-      would willingly have seen you, not only suffer the PANGS,
-      but express the _rage_, of a slighted wife. The simple
-      victim of my baseness, by the artless affection she
-      expressed for me, gained an ascendency over my mind; and,
-      when you removed her from your house, we still contrived, at
-      times, to meet. The consequences of our intercourse could
-      not long be concealed. It was, then, that I first began
-      to open my eyes on my conduct, and to be seized with
-      remorse!--Rachel, now, wept incessantly. Her father, she
-      told me, was a stern and severe man; and should he hear of
-      her misconduct, would, she was certain, be her destruction.
-      I procured for her an obscure retreat, to which I removed
-      the unhappy girl [Oh, how degrading is vice!], under false
-      pretences. I exhorted her to conceal her situation--to
-      pretend, that her health was in a declining state--and I
-      visited her, from time to time, as in my profession.
-
-      'This poor young creature continued to bewail the disgrace
-      she anticipated--her lamentations pierced my soul! I
-      recalled to my remembrance your emphatic caution. I foresaw
-      that, with the loss of her character, this simple girl's
-      misfortune and degradation would be irretrievable; and I
-      could, now, plainly distinguish the morality of _rule_ from
-      that of _principle_. Pursuing this train of reasoning, I
-      entangled myself, for my views were not yet sufficiently
-      clear and comprehensible! Bewildered, amidst contending
-      principles--distracted by a variety of emotions--in seeking
-      a remedy for one vice, I plunged (as is but too common),
-      into others of a more scarlet dye. With shame and horror, I
-      confess, I repeatedly tried, by medical drugs, to procure
-      an abortive birth: the strength and vigour of Rachel's
-      constitution defeated this diabolical purpose. Foiled in
-      these attempts, I became hardened, desperate, and
-      barbarous!
-
-      'Six weeks before the allotted period, the infant saw the
-      light--for a moment--to close its eyes on it for ever!
-      I, only, was with the unhappy mother. I had formed no
-      deliberate purpose--I had not yet arrived at the acme of
-      guilt--but, perceiving, from the babe's premature birth, and
-      the consequences of the pernicious potions which had been
-      administered to the mother, that the vital flame played
-      but feebly--that life was but as a quivering, uncertain,
-      spark--a sudden and terrible thought darted through my mind.
-      I know not whether my emotion betrayed me to the ear of
-      Rachel--but, suddenly throwing back the curtain of the bed,
-      she beheld me grasp--with savage ferocity--_with murderous
-      hands_!--Springing from the bed, and throwing herself upon
-      me--her piercing shrieks--
-
-      '_I can no more_--of the rest you seem, from whatever means,
-      but too well informed!
-
-      I need not say--protect, if she survive, the miserable
-      mother!--To you, whose heavenly goodness I have so ill
-      requited, it would be injurious as unnecessary! I read, too
-      late, the heart I have insulted!
-
-      'I have settled the disposal of my effects--I have commanded
-      my feelings to give you this last, sad, proof of my
-      confidence.--_Kneeling_, I entreat your forgiveness for the
-      sufferings I have caused you! I found your heart wounded--and
-      into those festering wounds I infused a deadly venom--curse
-      not my memory--_We meet no more_.
-
-      'Farewel! first, and last, and only, beloved of women!--a
-      long--a long farewel!
-                                                        'MONTAGUE.'
-
-
-These are the consequences of confused systems of morals--and thus it
-is, that minds of the highest hope, and fairest prospect, are blasted!
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XXVII
-
-
-The unhappy Rachel recovered her health by slow degrees. I had
-determined, when my affairs were settled, to leave a spot, that had been
-the scene of so many tragical events. I proposed to the poor girl to
-take her again into my family, to which she acceded with rapture. She
-has never since quitted me, and her faithful services, and humble,
-grateful attachment, have repaid my protection an hundred fold.
-
-Mr Montague left ten thousand pounds, the half of which was settled on
-his daughter, the remainder left to my disposal. This determined me to
-adopt you wholly for my son. I wrote to your uncle to that purport,
-taking upon myself the entire charge of your education, and entreating,
-that you might never know, unless informed by myself, to whom you
-owed your birth. That you should continue to think me _your mother_,
-flattered my tenderness, nor was my Emma, herself, more dear to me.
-
-I retired in a few months to my present residence, sharing my heart and
-my attentions between my children, who grew up under my fostering care,
-lovely and beloved.
-
-  'While every day, soft as it roll'd along,
-   Shew'd some new charm.'
-
-I observed your affection for each other with a flattering presage.
-With the features of your father, you inherited his intrepidity, and
-manly virtues--even, at times, I thought I perceived the seeds of his
-inflexible spirit; but the caresses of my Emma, more fortunate than her
-mother--yet, with all her mother's sensibility--could, in an instant,
-soften you to tenderness, and melt you into infantine sweetness.
-
-I endeavoured to form your young minds to every active virtue, to every
-generous sentiment.--You received, from the same masters, the same
-lessons, till you attained your twelfth year; and my Emma emulated, and
-sometimes outstripped your progress. I observed, with a mixture of hope
-and solicitude, her lively capacity--her enthusiastic affections; while
-I laboured to moderate and regulate them.
-
-It now became necessary that your educations should take a somewhat
-different direction; I wished to fit you for a commercial line of life;
-but the ardor you discovered for science and literature occasioned me
-some perplexity, as I feared it might unfit you for application to
-trade, in the pursuit of which so many talents are swallowed up, and
-powers wasted. Yet, as to the professions my objections were still more
-serious.--The study of law, is the study of chicanery.--The church, the
-school of hypocrisy and usurpation! You could only enter the universities
-by a moral degradation, that must check the freedom, and contaminate the
-purity, of the mind, and, entangling it in an inexplicable maze of error
-and contradiction, _poison virtue at its source_, and lay the foundation
-for a duplicity of character and a perversion of reason, destructive
-of every manly principle of integrity. For the science of physic you
-expressed a disinclination. A neighbouring gentleman, a surveyor, a man
-high in his profession, and of liberal manners, to whose friendship
-I was indebted, offered to take you. You were delighted with this
-proposal, (to which I had no particular objection) as you had a taste
-for drawing and architecture.
-
-Our separation, though you were to reside in the same town, cost us many
-tears--I loved you with more than a mother's fondness--and my Emma clung
-round the neck of her beloved brother, her Augustus, her playfellow, and
-sobbed on his bosom. It was with difficulty that you could disentangle
-yourself from our embraces. Every moment of leisure you flew to us--my
-Emma learned from you to draw plans, and to study the laws of proportion.
-Every little exuberance in your disposition, which, generated by a noble
-pride, sometimes wore the features of asperity, was soothed into peace
-by her gentleness and affection: while she delighted to emulate your
-fortitude, and to rise superior to the feebleness fostered in her sex,
-under the specious name of delicacy. Your mutual attachment encreased
-with your years, I renewed my existence in my children, and anticipated
-their more perfect union.
-
-Ah! my son, need I proceed? Must I continually blot the page with the
-tale of sorrow? Can I tear open again, can I cause to bleed afresh, in
-your heart and my own, wounds scarcely closed? In her fourteenth year,
-in the spring of life, your Emma and mine, lovely and fragile blossom,
-was blighted by a killing frost--After a few days illness, she drooped,
-faded, languished, and died!
-
-It was now that I felt--'That no agonies were like the agonies of a
-mother.' My broken spirits, from these repeated sorrows, sunk into
-habitual, hopeless, dejection. Prospects, that I had meditated with
-ineffable delight, were for ever veiled in darkness. Every earthly tie
-was broken, except that which bound you to my desolated heart with a
-still stronger cord of affection. You wept, in my arms, the loss of her
-whom you, yet, fondly believed your sister.--I cherished the illusion
-lest, by dissolving it, I should weaken your confidence in my maternal
-love, weaken that tenderness which was now my only consolation.
-
-
-      TO AUGUSTUS HARLEY.
-
-      My Augustus, _my more than son_, around whom my spirit,
-      longing for dissolution, still continues to flutter! I have
-      unfolded the errors of my past life--I have traced them to
-      their source--I have laid bare my mind before you, that the
-      experiments which have been made upon it may be beneficial
-      to yours! It has been a painful, and a humiliating
-      recital--the retrospection has been marked with anguish. As
-      the enthusiasm--as the passions of my youth--have passed in
-      review before me, long forgotten emotions have been revived
-      in my lacerated heart--it has been again torn with _the
-      pangs of contemned love_--the disappointment of rational
-      plans of usefulness--the dissolution of the darling hopes of
-      maternal pride and fondness. The frost of a premature age
-      sheds its snows upon my temples, the ravages of a sickly
-      mind shake my tottering frame. The morning dawns, the
-      evening closes upon me, the seasons revolve, without hope;
-      the sun shines, the spring returns, but, to me, it is
-      mockery.
-
-      And is this all of human life--this, that passes like a tale
-      that is told? Alas! it is a tragical tale! Friendship was
-      the star, whose cheering influence I courted to beam upon my
-      benighted course. The social affections were necessary to my
-      existence, but they have been only inlets to sorrow--_yet,
-      still, I bind them to my heart_!
-
-      Hitherto there seems to have been something strangely wrong
-      in the constitutions of society--a lurking poison that
-      spreads its contagion far and wide--a canker at the root
-      of private virtue and private happiness--a principle of
-      deception, that sanctifies error--a Circean cup that lulls
-      into a fatal intoxication. But men begin to think and
-      reason; reformation dawns, though the advance is tardy.
-      Moral martyrdom may possibly be the fate of those who
-      press forward, yet, their generous efforts will not be
-      lost.--Posterity will plant the olive and the laurel, and
-      consecrate their mingled branches to the memory of such,
-      who, daring to trace, to their springs, errors the most
-      hoary, and prejudices the most venerated, emancipate the
-      human mind from the trammels of superstition, and teach it,
-      _that its true dignity and virtue, consist in being free_.
-
-      Ere I sink into the grave, let me behold the _son of my
-      affections_, the living image of him, whose destiny involved
-      mine, who gave an early, but a mortal blow, to all my
-      worldly expectations--let me behold my Augustus, escaped
-      from the tyranny of the passions, restored to reason, to
-      the vigor of his mind, to self controul, to the dignity of
-      active, intrepid virtue!
-
-      The dawn of my life glowed with the promise of a fair and
-      bright day; before its noon, thick clouds gathered; its
-      mid-day was gloomy and tempestuous.--It remains with thee,
-      my friend, to gild with a mild radiance the closing evening;
-      before the scene shuts, and veils the prospect in
-      impenetrable darkness.
-
-
-
-
-TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
-
-
-Punctuation, hyphenation and period spellings have been retained even
-where not consistent. The latter includes the name Anne, which also
-occurs without the final e.
-
-The changes listed below have been made to the text (corrected version
-follows original):
-
-
-     but in this investigatation we must be patient
-     but in this investigation we must be patient
-
-     Arisides the just,
-     Aristides the just
-
-     knowledge and learning, are unsufferably masculine in a women
-     knowledge and learning, are unsufferably masculine in a woman
-
-     Why do we suffer ourselve to be confined
-     Why do we suffer ourselves to be confined
-
-     gratified by his covnersation
-     gratified by his conversation
-
-     at his repeated requst
-     at his repeated request
-
-     the degrading and melancholy intelligence, with fills my soul
-     the degrading and melancholy intelligence, which fills my soul
-
-     the acitivity of a curious and vigorous mind
-     the activity of a curious and vigorous mind
-
-     a temporary reflief
-     a temporary relief
-
-     Would she, inded, accept of my society,
-     Would she, indeed, accept of my society,
-
-     qutting it early in the morning
-     quitting it early in the morning
-
-     any suddent agitation of spirits
-     any sudden agitation of spirits
-
-     the distinction yo have shewn me
-     the distinction you have shewn me
-
-     so sincere, so artless, as mind
-     so sincere, so artless, as mine
-
-     such an attempt would be impertiment;
-     such an attempt would be impertinent;
-
-     their heads were never led astray by thir hearts.
-     their heads were never led astray by their hearts.
-
-     though peace and enjoymment should be for ever fled
-     though peace and enjoyment should be for ever fled
-
-     attended wtih advantages
-     attended with advantages
-
-     Persevervance, with little ability, has effected wonders;
-     Perseverance, with little ability, has effected wonders;
-
-     wtih the various branches of science
-     with the various branches of science
-
-     you have been very will
-     you have been very ill
-
-     the fruits of our dear-bought exerience
-     the fruits of our dear-bought experience
-
-     I would willing have seen you
-     I would willingly have seen you
-
-
-
-
-
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-</pre>
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