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diff --git a/9321.txt b/9321.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4a3bc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/9321.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20300 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Tales And Novels, Volume 8 (of 10), by Maria Edgeworth + +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: Tales And Novels, Volume 8 (of 10) + Patronage, concluded; Comic Dramas; Leonora; and Letters + +Author: Maria Edgeworth + + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9321] +This file was first posted on September 21, 2003 +Last Updated: June 10, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 8 (OF 10) *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, William Flis, and Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + +TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME VIII (of X) + +PATRONAGE, concluded; COMIC DRAMAS; LEONORA; AND LETTERS + +By Maria Edgeworth + +In Ten Volumes. With Engravings on Steel + + + + + +PATRONAGE + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +No less an event than Alfred's marriage, no event calling less +imperatively upon her feelings, could have recovered Lady Jane's +sympathy for Caroline. But Alfred Percy, who had been the restorer of +her fortune, her friend in adversity, what pain it would give him +to find her, at the moment when he might expect her congratulations, +quarrelling with his sister--that sister, too, who had left her home, +where she was so happy, and Hungerford Castle, where she was adored, on +purpose to tend Lady Jane in sickness and obscurity! + +Without being put exactly into these words, or, perhaps, into any +words, thoughts such as these, with feelings of gratitude and affection, +revived for Caroline in Lady Jane's mind the moment she heard of +Alfred's intended marriage. + +"Good young man!--Excellent friend!--Well, tell me all about it, _my +dear_." + +It was the first time that her ladyship had said _my dear_ to Caroline +since the day of the fatal refusal. + +Caroline was touched by this word of reconciliation--and the tears it +brought into her eyes completely overcame Lady Jane, who hastily wiped +her own. + +"So, my dear Caroline--where were we? Tell me about your brother's +marriage--when is it to be?--How has it been brought about?--The last +I heard of the Leicesters was the good dean's death--I remember pitying +them very much--Were they not left in straitened circumstances, too? +Will Alfred have any fortune with Miss Leicester?--Tell me every +thing--read me his letters." + +To go back to Dr. Leicester's death. For some months his preferments +were kept in abeyance. Many were named, or thought of, as likely to +succeed him. The deanery was in the gift of the crown, and as it was +imagined that the vicarage was also at the disposal of government, +applications had poured in, on all sides, for friends, and friends' +friends, to the remotest link of the supporters of ministry--But--to use +their own elegant, phrase--the hands of government were tied. + +It seems that in consequence of some parliamentary interest, formerly +given opportunely, and in consideration of certain arrangements in +his diocese, to serve persons whom ministers were obliged to oblige, a +promise had long ago been given to Bishop Clay that his recommendation +to the deanery should be accepted on the next vacancy. The bishop, who +had promised the living to his sister's husband, now presented it to +Mr. Buckhurst Falconer, with the important addition of Dr. Leicester's +deanery. + +To become a dean was once the height of Buckhurst's ambition, that for +which in a moment of elation he prayed, scarcely hoping that his wishes +would ever be fulfilled: yet now that his wish was accomplished, and +that he had attained this height of his ambition, was he happy? No!--far +from it; farther than ever. How could he be happy--dissatisfied with his +conduct, and detesting his wife? In the very act of selling himself to +this beldam, he abhorred his own meanness; but he did not know how much +reason he should have to repent, till the deed was done. It was done in +a hurry, with all the precipitation of a man who hates himself for +what he feels forced to do. Unused to bargain and sale in any way, in +marriage never having thought of it before, Buckhurst did not take all +precautions necessary to make his sacrifice answer his own purpose. He +could not conceive the avaricious temper and habits of his lady, till he +was hers past redemption. Whatever accession of income he obtained +from his marriage, he lived up to; immediately, his establishment, his +expenses, surpassed his revenue. His wife would not pay or advance a +shilling beyond her stipulated quota to their domestic expenses. He +could not hear the parsimonious manner in which she would have had him +live, or the shabby style in which she received his friends. He was more +profuse in proportion as she was more niggardly; and whilst she scolded +and grudged every penny she paid, he ran in debt magnanimously for +hundreds. When the living and deanery came into his possession, the +second year's fruits had been eaten beforehand. Money he must have, and +money his wife would not give--but a litigious agent suggested to him a +plan for raising it, by demanding a considerable sum from the executors +of the late Dr. Leicester, for what is called _dilapidation_. The +parsonage-house seemed to be in good repair; but to make out charges of +dilapidation was not difficult to those who understood the business--and +fifteen hundred pounds was the charge presently made out against the +executors of the late incumbent. It was invidious, it was odious for the +new vicar, in the face of his parishioners, of all those who loved and +respected his predecessor, to begin by making such a demand--especially +as it was well known that the late dean had not saved any of the income +of his preferment, but had disposed of it amongst his parishioners as +a steward for the poor. He had left his family in narrow circumstances. +They were proud of his virtues, and not ashamed of the consequences. +With dignity and ease they retrenched their expenses; and after having +lived as became the family of a dignitary of the church, on quitting the +parsonage, the widow and her niece retired to a small habitation, suited +to their altered circumstances, and lived with respectable and respected +economy. The charge brought against them by the new dean was an +unexpected blow. It was an extortion, to which Mrs. Leicester would not +submit--could not without injury to her niece, from whose fortune the +sum claimed, if yielded, must be deducted. + +Alfred Percy, from the first moment of their distress, from the time of +good Dr. Leicester's death, had been assiduous in his attentions to Mrs. +Leicester; and by the most affectionate letters, and, whenever he could +get away from London, by his visits to her and to his Sophia, had +proved the warmth and constancy of his attachment. Some months had now +passed--he urged his suit, and besought Sophia no longer to delay his +happiness. Mrs. Leicester wished that her niece should now give herself +a protector and friend, who might console her for the uncle she had +lost. It was at this period the _dilapidation charge_ was made. Mrs. +Leicester laid the whole statement before Alfred, declaring that for +his sake, as well as for her niece's, she was resolute to defend herself +against injustice. Alfred could scarcely bring himself to believe that +Buckhurst Falconer had acted in the manner represented, with a rapacity, +harshness, and cruelty, so opposite to his natural disposition. Faults, +Alfred well knew that Buckhurst had; but they were all, he thought, of +quite a different sort from those of which he now stood accused. What +was to be done? Alfred was extremely averse from going to law with a man +who was his relation, for whom he had early felt, and still retained, +a considerable regard: yet he could not stand by, and see the woman he +loved, defrauded of nearly half the small fortune she possessed. On the +other hand, he was employed as a professional man, and called upon +to act. He determined, however, before he should, as a last resource, +expose the truth and maintain the right in a court of justice, +previously to try every means of conciliation in his power. To all +his letters the new dean answered evasively and unsatisfactorily, by +referring him to his attorney, into whose hands he said he had put the +business, and he knew and wished to hear nothing more about it. The +attorney, Solicitor Sharpe, was impracticable--Alfred resolved to +see the dean himself; and this, after much difficulty, he at length +effected. He found the dean and his lady tete-a-tete. Their raised +voices suddenly stopped short as he entered. The dean gave an angry look +at his servant as Alfred came into the room. + +"Your servants," said Alfred, "told me that you were not at home, but I +told them that I knew the dean would be at home to an old friend." + +"You are very good,--(said Buckhurst)--you do me a great deal of +honour," said the dean. + +Two different manners appeared in the same person: one +natural--belonging to his former, the other assumed, proper, as he +thought, for his present self, or rather for his present situation. + +"Won't you be seated? I hope all our friends--" Mrs. Buckhurst, or, as +she was called, Mrs. Dean Falconer, made divers motions, with a +very ugly chin, and stood as if she thought there ought to be an +introduction. The dean knew it, but being ashamed to introduce her, +determined against it. Alfred stood in suspension, waiting their mutual +pleasure. + +"Won't you sit down, sir?" repeated the dean. + +Down plumped Mrs. Falconer directly, and taking out her spectacles, as +if to shame her husband, by heightening the contrast of youth and age, +deliberately put them on; then drawing her table nearer, settled herself +to her work. + +Alfred, who saw it to be necessary, determined to use his best address +to conciliate the lady. + +"Mr. Dean, you have never yet done me the honour to introduce me to Mrs. +Falconer." + +"I thought--I thought we had met before--since--Mrs. Falconer, Mr. +Alfred Percy." + +The lady took off her spectacles, smiled, and adjusted herself, +evidently with an intention to be more agreeable. Alfred sat down by her +work-table, directed his conversation to her, and soon talked, or rather +induced her to talk herself into fine humour. Presently she retired +to dress for dinner, and "hoped Mr. Alfred Percy had no intention of +running away--_she_ had a well-aired bed to offer him." + +The dean, though he cordially hated his lady, was glad, for his own +sake, to be relieved from her fits of crossness; and was pleased by +Alfred's paying attention to her, as this was a sort of respect to +himself, and what he seldom met with from those young men who had been +his companions before his marriage--they usually treated his lady with a +neglect or ridicule which reflected certainly upon her husband. + +Alfred never yet had touched upon his business, and Buckhurst began to +think this was merely a friendly visit. Upon Alfred's observing some +alteration which had been lately made in the room in which they were +sitting, the dean took him to see other improvements in the house; in +pointing out these, and all the conveniences and elegancies about the +parsonage, Buckhurst totally forgot the _dilapidation suit_; and every +thing he showed and said tended unawares to prove that the house was in +the most perfect repair and best condition possible. Gradually, whatever +solemnity and beneficed pomp there had at first appeared in the dean's +manner, wore off, or was laid aside; and, except his being somewhat +more corpulent and rubicund than in early years, he appeared like the +original Buckhurst. His gaiety of heart, indeed, was gone, but some +sparkles of his former spirits remained. + +"Here," said he, showing Alfred into his study, "here, as our good +friend Mr. _Blank_ said, when he showed us his study, '_Here_ is _where_ +I read all day long--quite snug--and nobody's a bit the wiser for it.'" + +The dean seated himself in his comfortable arm-chair. "Try that chair, +Alfred, excellent for sleeping in at one's ease." + + "To rest the cushion and soft dean invite." + +"Ah!" said Alfred, "often have I sat in this room with my excellent +friend, Dr. Leicester!" + +The new dean's countenance suddenly changed: but endeavouring to pass +it off with a jest, he said, "Ay, poor good old Leicester, he sleeps for +ever,--that's one comfort--to me--if not to you." But perceiving that +Alfred continued to look serious, the dean added some more proper +reflections in a tone of ecclesiastical sentiment, and with a sigh +of decorum--then rose, for he smelt that the _dilapidation suit_ was +coming. + +"Would not you like, Mr. Percy, to wash your hands before dinner?" + +"I thank you, Mr. Dean, I must detain you a moment to speak to you on +business." + +Black as Erebus grew the face of the dean--he had no resource but to +listen, for he knew it would come after dinner, if it did not come now; +and it was as well to have it alone in the study, where nobody might be +a bit the wiser. + +When Alfred had stated the whole of what he had to say, which he did +in as few and strong words as possible, appealing to the justice and +feelings of Buckhurst--to the fears which the dean must have of +being exposed, and ultimately defeated, in a court of justice--"Mrs. +Leicester," concluded he, "is determined to maintain the suit, and has +employed me to carry it on for her." + +"I should very little have expected," said the dean, "that Mr. Alfred +Percy would have been employed in such a way against me." + +"Still less should I have expected that I could be called upon in such +a way against you," replied Alfred. "No one can feel it more than I do. +The object of my present visit is to try whether some accommodation may +not be made, which will relieve us both from the necessity of going to +law, and may prevent me from being driven to the performance of this +most painful professional duty." + +"Duty! professional duty!" repeated Buckhurst: "as if I did not +understand all those _cloak-words_, and know how easy it is to put them +on and off at pleasure!" + +"To some it may be, but not to me," said Alfred, calmly. + +Anger started into Buckhurst's countenance: but conscious how +inefficacious it would be, and how completely he had laid himself open, +the dean answered, "You are the best judge, sir. But I trust--though +I don't pretend to understand the honour of lawyers--I trust, as a +gentleman, you will not take advantage against me in this suit, of any +thing my openness has shown you about the parsonage." + +"You trust rightly, Mr. Dean," replied Alfred, in his turn, with a look +not of anger, but of proud indignation; "you trust rightly, Mr. Dean, +and as I should have expected that one who has had opportunities of +knowing me so well ought to trust." + +"That's a clear answer," said Buckhurst. "But how could I tell?--so much +_jockeying_ goes on in every profession--how could I tell that a lawyer +would be more conscientious than another man? But now you assure me of +it--I take it upon your word, and believe it in your case. About the +accommodation--_accommodation_ means money, does not it?--frankly, I +have not a shilling. But Mrs. Falconer is all _accommodation_. Try what +you can do with her--and by the way you began, I should hope you would +do a great deal," added he, laughing. + +Alfred would not undertake to speak to his lady, unless the dean would, +in the first instance, make some sacrifice. He represented that he was +not asking for money, but for a relinquishment of a claim, which he +apprehended not to be justly due: "And the only use I shall ever make of +what you have shown me here, is to press upon your feelings, as I do at +this moment, the conviction of the injustice of that claim, which I am +persuaded your lawyers only instigated, and that you will abandon." + +Buckhurst begged him not to be persuaded of any such thing. The +instigation of an attorney, he laughing said, was not in law counted the +instigation of the devil--at law no man talked of feelings. In matters +of property judges did not understand them, whatever figure they might +make with a jury in criminal cases--with an eloquent advocate's hand on +his breast. + +Alfred let Buckhurst go on with his vain wit and gay rhetoric till he +had nothing more to say, knowing that he was hiding consciousness of +unhandsome conduct. Sticking firmly to his point, Alfred showed that his +client, though gentle, was resolved, and that, unless Buckhurst yielded, +law must take its course--that though he should never give any hint, the +premises must be inspected, and disgrace and defeat must follow. + +Forced to be serious, fretted and hurried, for the half-hour bell before +dinner had now rung, and the dean's stomach began to know canonical +hours, he exclaimed, "The upshot of the whole business is, that Mr. +Alfred Percy is in love, I understand, with Miss Sophia Leicester, and +this fifteen hundred pounds, which he pushes me to the bare wall to +relinquish, is eventually, as part of her fortune, to become his. Would +it not have been as fair to have stated this at once?" + +"No--because it would not have been the truth." + +"No!--You won't deny that you are in love with Miss Leicester?" + +"I am as much in love as man can be with Miss Leicester; but her fortune +is nothing to me, for I shall never touch it." + +"Never touch it! Does the aunt--the widow--the cunning widow, refuse +consent?" + +"Far from it: the aunt is all the aunt of Miss Leicester should be--all +the widow of Dr. Leicester ought to be. But her circumstances are not +what they ought to be; and by the liberality of a friend, who lends me +a house, rent free, and by the resources of my profession, I am better +able than Mrs. Leicester is to spare fifteen hundred pounds: therefore, +in the recovery of this money I have no personal interest at present. I +shall never receive it from her." + +"Noble! Noble!--just what I could have done myself--once! What a +contrast!" + +Buckhurst laid his head down upon his arms flat on the table, and +remained for some moments silent--then, starting upright, "I'll never +claim a penny from her--I'll give it all up to you! I will, if I sell my +band for it, by Jove!" + +"Oh! what has your father to answer for, who forced you into the +church!" thought Alfred. + +"My dear Buckhurst," said he, "my dear dean--" + +"Call me Buckhurst, if you love me." + +"I do love you, it is impossible to help it, in spite of--" + +"All my faults--say it out--say it out--in spite of your conscience," +added Buckhurst, trying to laugh. + +"Not in spite of my conscience, but in favour of yours," said Alfred, +"against whose better dictates you have been compelled all your life to +act." + +"I have so, but that's over. What remains to be done at present? I am in +real distress for five hundred pounds. Apropos to your being engaged in +this dilapidation suit, you can speak to Mrs. Falconer about it. Tell +her I have given up the thing; and see what she will do." + +Alfred promised he would speak to Mrs. Falconer. "And, Alfred, when you +see your sister Caroline, tell her that I am not in one sense such a +wretch--quite, as she thinks me. But tell her that I am yet a greater +wretch--infinitely more miserable than she, I hope, can conceive--beyond +redemption--beyond endurance miserable." He turned away hastily in an +agony of mind. Alfred shut the door and escaped, scarcely able to bear +his own emotion. + +When they met at dinner, Mrs. Dean Falconer was an altered person--her +unseemly morning costume and well-worn shawl being cast aside, she +appeared in bloom-coloured gossamer gauze, and primrose ribbons, a +would-be young lady. Nothing of that curmudgeon look, or old fairy cast +of face and figure, to which he had that morning been introduced, but in +their place smiles, and all the false brilliancy which rouge can give to +the eyes, proclaimed a determination to be charming. + +The dean was silent, and scarcely ate any thing, though the dinner was +excellent, for his lady was skilled in the culinary department, and in +favour of Alfred had made a more hospitable display than she usually +condescended to make for her husband's friends. There were no other +guests, except a young lady, companion to Mrs. Falconer. Alfred was +as agreeable and entertaining as circumstances permitted; and Mrs. +Buckhurst Falconer, as soon as she got out of the dining-room, even +before she reached the drawing-room, pronounced him to be a most polite +and accomplished young man, very different indeed from the _common run_, +or the usual style, of Mr. Dean Falconer's dashing bachelor beaux, who +in her opinion were little better than brute bears. + +At coffee, when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing-room, +as Alfred was standing beside Mrs. Falconer, meditating how and when to +speak of the object of his visit, she cleared the ground by choosing the +topic of conversation, which, at last fairly drove her husband out of +the room. She judiciously, maliciously, or accidentally, began to talk +of the proposal which she had heard a near relation of hers had not +long since made to a near relation of Mr. Alfred Percy's--Mr. Clay, +of Clay-hall, her nephew, had proposed for Mr. Alfred's sister, Miss +Caroline Percy. She was really sorry the match was not to take place, +for she had heard a very high character of the young lady in every way, +and her nephew was rich enough to do without fortune--not but what that +would be very acceptable to all men--especially young men, who are now +mostly all for money instead of all for love--except in the case of very +first rate extraordinary beauty, which therefore making a woman a prey, +just as much one as the other, might be deemed a misfortune as great, +though hardly _quite_, Mrs. Buckhurst said, as she had found a great +fortune in her own particular case. The involution of meaning in these +sentences rendering it not easy to be comprehended, the dean stood it +pretty well, only stirring his coffee, and observing that it was cold; +but when his lady went on to a string of interrogatories about Miss +Caroline Percy--on the colour of her eyes and hair--size of her mouth +and nose--requiring in short a complete full-length portrait of the +young lady, poor Buckhurst set down his cup, and pleading business in +his study, left the field open to Alfred. + +"Near-sighted glasses! Do you never use them, Mr. Percy?" said Mrs. Dean +Falconer, as she thought Alfred's eyes fixed upon her spectacles, which +lay on the table. + +No--he never used them, he thanked her: he was rather far-sighted than +short-sighted. She internally commended his politeness in not taking +them up to verify her assertion, and put them into her pocket to avoid +all future danger. + +He saw it was a favourable moment, and entered at once into his +business--beginning by observing that the dean was much out of spirits. +The moment money was touched upon, the curmudgeon look returned upon the +lady; and for some time Alfred had great difficulty in making himself +heard: she poured forth such complaints against the extravagance of the +dean, with lists of the debts she had paid, the sums she had given, and +the vow she had made, never to go beyond the weekly allowance she had, +at the last settlement, agreed to give her husband. + +Alfred pleaded strongly the expense of law, and the certainty, in his +opinion, of ultimate defeat, with the being obliged to pay all the +costs, which would fall upon the dean. The dean was willing to withdraw +his claim--he had promised to do so, in the most handsome manner; and +therefore, Alfred said, he felt particularly anxious that he should +not be distressed for five hundred pounds, a sum for which he knew +Mr. Falconer was immediately pressed. He appealed to Mrs. Falconer's +generosity. He had been desired by the dean to speak to her on the +subject, otherwise he should not have presumed--and it was as a +professional man, and a near relation, that he now took the liberty: +this was the first transaction he had ever had with her, and he hoped he +should leave the vicarage impressed with a sense of her generosity, and +enabled to do her justice in the opinion of those who did not know her. + +That was very little to her, she bluntly said--she acted only up to her +own notions--she lived only for herself. + +"And for her husband." Love, Alfred Percy said, he was assured, was +superior to money in her opinion. "And after all, my dear madam, you +set me the example of frankness, and permit me to speak to you without +reserve. What can you, who have no reason, you say, to be pleased with +either of your nephews, do better with your money, than spend it while +you live and for yourself, in securing happiness in the gratitude +and affection of a husband, who, generous himself, will be peculiarly +touched and attached by generosity?" + +The words, _love, generosity, generous_, sounded upon the lady's ear, +and she was unwilling to lose that high opinion which she imagined +Alfred entertained of her sentiments and character. Besides, she was +conscious that he was in fact nearer the truth than all the world +would have believed. Avaricious in trifles, and parsimonious in those +every-day habits which brand the reputation immediately with the fault +of avarice, this woman was one of those misers who can be generous by +fits and starts, and who have been known to _give_ hundreds of pounds, +but never without reluctance would part with a shilling. + +She presented the dean, her husband, with an order on her banker for +the money he wanted, and Alfred had the pleasure of leaving his unhappy +friend better, at least, than he found him. He rejoiced in having +compromised this business so successfully, and in thus having prevented +the litigation, ill-will, and disgraceful circumstances, which, without +his interference, must have ensued. + +The gratitude of Mrs. Leicester and her niece was delightful. The aunt +urged him to accept what he had been the means of saving, as part of +her niece's fortune; but this he absolutely refused, and satisfied Mrs. +Leicester's delicacy, by explaining, that he could not, if he would, now +yield to her entreaties, as he had actually obtained the money from poor +Buckhurst's generous repentance, upon the express faith that he had no +private interest in the accommodation. + +"You would not," said Alfred, "bring me under the act against raising +money upon false pretences?" + +What Alfred lost in money he gained in love. His Sophia's eyes beamed +upon him with delight. The day was fixed for their marriage, and at +Alfred's suggestion, Mrs. Leicester consented, painful as it was, in +some respects, to her feelings, that they should be married by the dean +in the parish church. + +Alfred brought his bride to town, and as soon as they were established +in their own house, or rather in that house which Mr. Gresham insisted +upon their calling their own, Lady Jane Granville was the first person +to offer her congratulations.--Alfred begged his sister Caroline from +Lady Jane, as he had already obtained his father's and mother's consent. +Lady Jane was really fond of Caroline's company, and had forgiven her, +as well as she could; yet her ladyship had no longer a hope of being _of +use_ to her, and felt that even if any other offer were to occur--and +none such as had been made could ever more be expected--it would lead +only to fresh disappointment and altercation; therefore she, with the +less reluctance, relinquished Caroline altogether. + +Caroline's new sister had been, from the time they were first +acquainted, her friend, and she rejoiced in seeing all her hopes for her +brother's happiness accomplished by this marriage. His Sophia had those +habits of independent occupation which are essential to the wife of a +professional man, and which enable her to spend cheerfully many hours +alone, or at least without the company of her husband. On his return +home every evening, he was sure to find a smiling wife, a sympathizing +friend, a cheerful fireside.--She had musical talents--her husband was +fond of music; and she did not lay aside the accomplishments which +had charmed the lover, but made use of them to please him whom she had +chosen as her companion for life. Her voice, her harp, her utmost skill, +were ready at any moment, and she found far more delight in devoting +her talents to him than she had ever felt in exhibiting them to admiring +auditors. This was the domestic use of accomplishments to which +Caroline had always been accustomed; so that joining in her new sister's +occupations and endeavours to make Alfred's evenings pass pleasantly, +she felt at once as much _at home_ as if she had been in the country; +for the mind is its own place, and domestic happiness may be naturalized +in a capital city. + +At her brother's house, Caroline had an opportunity of seeing a society +that was new to her, that of the professional men of the first eminence +both in law and medicine, the men of science and of literature, with +whom Alfred and Erasmus had been for years assiduously cultivating +acquaintance. They were now happy to meet at Alfred's house, for they +liked and esteemed him, and they found his wife and sister sensible, +well-informed women, to whom their conversation was of real amusement +and instruction; and who, in return, knew how to enliven their leisure +hours by female sprightliness and elegance. Caroline now saw the +literary and scientific world to the best advantage: not the amateurs, +or the mere _show_ people, but those who, really excelling and feeling +their own superiority, had too much pride and too little time to +waste upon idle flattery, or what to them were stupid, uninteresting +_parties_. Those who refused to go to Lady Spilsbury's, or to Lady +Angelica Headingham's, or who were seen there, perhaps, once or twice in +a season as a great favour and honour, would call three or four evenings +every week at Alfred's. + +The first news, the first hints of discoveries, inventions, and literary +projects, she heard from time to time discussed. Those men of talent, +whom she had heard were to be seen at _conversaziones_, or of whom she +had had a glimpse in fine society, now appeared in a new point of view, +and to the best advantage; without those pretensions and rivalships with +which they sometimes are afflicted in public, or those affectations +and singularities, which they often are supposed to assume, to obtain +notoriety among persons inferior to them in intellect and superior in +fashion. Instead of playing, as they sometimes did, a false game to +amuse the multitude, they were obliged now to exert their real skill, +and play fair with one another. + +Sir James Harrington tells us, that in his days the courtiers who played +at divers games in public, had a way of exciting the admiration and +amazement of the commoner sort of spectators, by producing heaps of +golden counters, and seeming to stake immense sums, when all the time +they had previously agreed among one another, that each guinea should +stand for a shilling, or each hundred guineas for one: so that in fact +two modes of calculation were used for the initiated and uninitiated; +and this exoteric practice goes on continually to this hour, among +literary performers in the intellectual, as well as among courtiers in +the fashionable world. + +Besides the pleasure of studying celebrated characters, and persons +of eminent merit, at their ease and at her own, Caroline had now +opportunities of seeing most of those objects of rational curiosity, +which with Lady Jane Granville had been prohibited as _mauvais ton_. +With men of sense she found it was not _mauvais ton_ to use her eyes for +the purposes of instruction or entertainment. + +With Mrs. Alfred Percy she saw every thing in the best manner; in the +company of well-informed guides, who were able to point out what was +essential to be observed; ready to explain and to illustrate; to procure +for them all those privileges and advantages as spectators, which common +gazers are denied, but which liberal and enlightened men are ever not +only ready to allow, but eager to procure for intelligent, unassuming +females. + +Among the gentlemen of learning, talents, and eminence in Alfred's own +profession, whom Caroline had the honour of seeing at her brother's, +were Mr. Friend, the _friend_ of his early years at the bar; and that +great luminary, who in a higher orbit had cheered and guided him in his +ascent. The chief justice was in a station, and of an age, where praise +can be conferred without impropriety, and without hurting the feelings +of delicacy or pride. He knew how to praise--a difficult art, but he +excelled in it. As Caroline once, in speaking of him, said, "Common +compliments compared to praise from him, are as common coin compared to +a medal struck and appropriated for the occasion." + +About this time Mr. Temple came to tell Alfred, that a ship had been +actually ordered to be in readiness to carry him on his intended +embassy; that Mr. Shaw had recovered; that Cunningham Falconer had +no more excuses or pretences for delay; despatches, the last Lord +Oldborough said he should ever receive from him as envoy, had now +arrived, and Temple was to have set out immediately; but that the whole +embassy had been delayed, because Lord Oldborough had received a letter +from Count Altenberg, giving an account of alarming revolutionary +symptoms, which had appeared in the capital, and in the provinces, in +the dominions of his sovereign, Lord Oldborough had shown Mr. Temple +what related to public affairs, but had not put the whole letter into +his hands. All that he could judge from what he read was, that the +Count's mind was most seriously occupied with the dangerous state +of public affairs in his country. "I should have thought," added +Mr. Temple, "that the whole of this communication was entirely of a +political nature, but that in the last page which Lord Oldborough put +into my hand, the catch-words at the bottom were _Countess Christina_." + +Alfred observed, "that, without the aid of Rosamond's imagination to +supply something more, nothing could be made of this. However, it was a +satisfaction to have had direct news of Count Altenberg." + +The next day Mr. Temple came for Alfred. Lord Oldborough desired to see +him. + +"Whatever his business may be, I am sure it is important and +interesting," said Mr. Temple; "by this time I ought to be well +acquainted with Lord Oldborough--I know the signs of his suppressed +emotion, and I have seldom seen him put such force upon himself to +appear calm, and to do the business of the day, before he should yield +his mind to what pressed on his secret thoughts." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +When Alfred arrived, Lord Oldborough was engaged with some gentlemen +from the city about a loan. By the length of time which the negotiators +stayed, they tried Alfred's patience; but the minister sat with +immoveable composure, till they knew their own minds, and till they +departed. Then, the loan at once dismissed from his thoughts, he was +ready for Alfred. + +"You have married, I think, Mr. Alfred Percy, since I saw you last--I +congratulate you." + +His lordship was not in the habit of noticing such common events; Alfred +was surprised and obliged by the interest in his private affairs which +this congratulation denoted. + +"I congratulate you, sir, because I understand you have married a woman +of sense. To marry a fool--to form or to have any connexion with a +fool," continued his lordship, his countenance changing remarkably as he +spoke, "I conceive to be the greatest evil, the greatest curse, that can +be inflicted on a man of sense." + +He walked across the room with long, firm, indignant strides--then +stopping short, he exclaimed, "_Lettres de cachet_!--Dangerous +instruments in bad hands!--As what are not?--But one good purpose they +answered--they put it in the power of the head of every noble house to +disown, and to deprive of the liberty to disgrace his family, any member +who should manifest the will to commit desperate crime or desperate +folly." + +Alfred was by no means disposed to join in praise even of this use of a +_lettre de cachet_, but he did not think it a proper time to argue the +point, as he saw Lord Oldborough was under the influence of some strong +passion. He waited in silence till his lordship should explain himself +farther. + +His lordship unlocked a desk, and produced a letter. + +"Pray, Mr. Percy--Mr. Alfred Percy--have you heard any thing lately of +the Marchioness of Twickenham?" + +"No, my lord." + +Alfred, at this instant, recollected the whisper which he had once heard +at chapel, and he added, "Not of late, my lord." + +"There," said Lord Oldborough, putting a letter into Alfred's +hands--"there is the sum of what I have heard." + +The letter was from the Duke of Greenwich, informing Lord Oldborough +that an unfortunate discovery had been made of _an affair_ between the +Marchioness of Twickenham and a certain Captain Bellamy, which rendered +an immediate separation necessary. + +"So!" thought Alfred, "my brother Godfrey had a fine escape of this fair +lady!" + +"I have seen her once since I received that letter, and I never will see +her again," said Lord Oldborough: "that's past--all that concerns her +is past and irremediable. Now as to the future, and to what concerns +myself. I have been informed--how truly, I cannot say--that some time +ago a rumour, a suspicion of this intrigue was whispered in what they +call the fashionable world." + +"I believe that your lordship has been truly informed," said Alfred; and +he then mentioned the whisper he had heard at the chapel. + +"Ha!--Farther, it has been asserted to me, that a hint was given to the +Marquis of Twickenham of the danger of suffering that--what is the +man's name?--Bellamy, to be so near his wife; and that the hint was +disregarded." + +"The marquis did very weakly or very wickedly," said Alfred. + +"All wickedness is weakness, sir, you know: but to our point. I have +been assured that the actual discovery of the intrigue was made to the +marquis some months previously to the birth of his child--and that he +forbore to take any notice of this, lest it might affect the legitimacy +of that child. After the birth of the infant--a boy--subsequent +indiscretions on the part of the marchioness, the marquis would make +it appear, gave rise to his first suspicions. Now, sir, these are the +points, of which, as my friend, and as a professional man, I desire you +to ascertain the truth. If the facts are as I have thus heard, I presume +no divorce can be legally obtained." + +"Certainly not, my lord." + +"Then I will direct you instantly to the proper channels for +information." + +Whilst Lord Oldborough wrote directions, Alfred assured him he would +fulfil his commission with all the discretion and celerity in his power. + +"The next step," continued Lord Oldborough--"for, on such a subject, I +wish to say all that is necessary at once, that it may be banished from +my mind--your next step, supposing the facts to be ascertained, is to go +with this letter--my answer to the Duke of Greenwich. See him--and see +the marquis. In matters of consequence have nothing to do with secondary +people--deal with the principals. Show in the first place, as a lawyer, +that their divorce is unattainable--next, show the marquis that he +destroys his son and heir by attempting it. The duke, I believe, would +be glad of a pretext for dissolving the political connexion between me +and the Greenwich family. He fears me, and he fears the world: he dares +not abandon me without a pretence for the dissolution of friendship. He +is a weak man, and never dares to act without a pretext; but show him +that a divorce is not necessary for his purpose--a separation will do +as well--Or without it, I am ready to break with him at council, in +the House of Lords, on a hundred political points; and let him shield +himself as he may from the reproach of desertion, by leaving the blame +of quarrel on my impracticability, or on what he will, I care not--so +that my family be saved from the ignominy of divorce." + +As he sealed his letter, Lord Oldborough went on in abrupt sentences. + +"I never counted on a weak man's friendship--I can do without his +grace--Woman! Woman! The same--ever since the beginning of the world!" + +Then turning to Alfred to deliver the letter into his hand, "Your +brother, Major Percy, sir--I think I recollect--He was better in the +West Indies." + +"I was just thinking so, my lord," said Alfred. + +"Yes--better encounter the plague than a fool." + +Lord Oldborough had never before distinctly adverted to his knowledge of +his niece's partiality for Godfrey, but his lordship now added, "Major +Percy's honourable conduct is not unknown: I trust honourable conduct +never was, and never will be, lost upon me.--This to the Duke of +Greenwich--and this to the marquis.--Since it was to be, I rejoice +that this Captain Bellamy is the gallant.--Had it been your brother, +sir--could there have been any love in the case--not, observe, that I +believe in love, much less am I subject to the weakness of remorse--but +a twinge might have seized my mind--I might possibly have been told that +the marchioness was married against her inclination.--But I am at ease +on that point--my judgment of her was right.--You will let me know, +in one word, the result of your negotiation without entering into +particulars--divorce, or no divorce, is all I wish to hear." + +Alfred did not know all the circumstances of the Marchioness of +Twickenham's marriage, nor the peremptory manner in which it had been +insisted upon by her uncle, otherwise he would have felt still greater +surprise than that which he now felt, at the stern, unbending character +of the man. Possessed as Lord Oldborough was by the opinion, that he +had at the time judged and acted in the best manner possible, no +after-events could make him doubt the justice of his own decision, or +could at all shake him in his own estimation. + +Alfred soon brought his report. "In one word--no divorce, my lord." + +"That's well--I thank you, sir." + +His lordship made no farther inquiries--not even whether there was to be +a _separation_. + +Alfred was commissioned by the Duke of Greenwich to deliver a message, +which, like the messages of the gods in Homer, he delivered verbatim, +and without comment: "His grace of Greenwich trusts Lord Oldborough +will believe, that, notwithstanding the unfortunate circumstances, +which dissolved in some degree the family connexion, it was the +farthest possible from his grace's wish or thoughts to break with Lord +Oldborough, as long as private feelings, and public principles, could be +rendered by any means compatible." + +Lord Oldborough smiled in scorn--and Alfred could scarcely command his +countenance. + +Lord Oldborough prepared to give his grace the opportunity, which +he knew he desired, of differing with him on principle: his lordship +thought his favour and power were now sufficiently established to be +able to do without the Duke of Greenwich, and his pride prompted him to +show this to his grace and to the world. He carried it with a high hand +for a short time; but even whilst he felt most secure, and when +all seemed to bend and bow before his genius and his sway, many +circumstances and many persons were combining to work the downfall of +his power. + +One of the first slight circumstances which shook his favour, was a +speech he had made to some gentleman, about the presentation of the +deanery to Buckhurst Falconer. It had been supposed by many, who knew +the court which Commissioner Falconer paid to Lord Oldborough, that it +was through his lordship's interest, that this preferment was given to +the son; but when some person, taking this for granted, spoke of it to +his lordship, he indignantly disclaimed all part in the transaction, and +it is said that he added, "Sir, I know what is due to private regard +as a man--and as a minister what must be yielded to parliamentary +influence; but I never could have advised the bestowing ecclesiastical +benefice and dignity upon any one whose conduct was not his first +recommendation." + +This speech, made in a moment of proud and perhaps unguarded +indignation, was repeated with additions, suppressions, variations, and +comments. Any thing will at court serve the purpose of those who wish to +injure, and it is inconceivable what mischief was done to the minister +by this slight circumstance. In the first place, the nobleman high +in office, and the family connexions of the nobleman who had made the +exchange of livings, and given the promise of the deanery to Bishop +Clay, were offended beyond redemption--because they were in the wrong. +Then, all who had done, or wished to do wrong, in similar instances, +were displeased by reflection or by anticipation. But Lord Oldborough +chiefly was injured by misrepresentation in the quarter where it was of +most consequence to him to preserve his influence. It was construed +by the highest authority into disrespect, and an imperious desire to +encroach on favour, to control prerogative, and to subdue the mind of +his sovereign. Insidious arts had long been secretly employed to infuse +these ideas; and when once the jealousy of power was excited, every +trifle confirmed the suspicion which Lord Oldborough's uncourtier-like +character was little calculated to dispel. His popularity now +gave umbrage, and it was hinted that he wished to make himself the +_independent_ minister of the people. + +The affairs of the country prospered, however, under his administration; +there was trouble, there was hazard in change. It was argued, that it +was best to wait at least for some reverse of fortune in war, or some +symptom of domestic discontent, before an attempt should be made to +displace this minister, formidable by his talents, and by the awe his +commanding character inspired. + +The habit of confidence and deference for his genius and integrity +remained, and to him no difference for some time appeared, in +consequence of the secret decay of favour. + +Commissioner Falconer, timid, anxious, restless, was disposed by +circumstances and by nature, or by second nature, to the vigilance of a +dependent's life; accustomed to watch and consult daily the barometer +of court favour, he soon felt the coming storm; and the moment he saw +prognostics of the change, he trembled, and considered how he should +best provide for his own safety before the hour of danger arrived. +Numerous libels against the minister appeared, which Lord Oldborough +never read, but the commissioner, with his best spectacles, read them +all; for he well knew and believed what the sage Selden saith, that +"though some make slight of libels, yet you may see by them how the wind +sets." + +After determining by the throwing up of these straws which way the wind +set, the commissioner began with all possible skill and dexterity to +trim his boat. But dexterous trimmer though he was, and "prescient of +change," he did yet not foresee from what quarter the storm would come. + +Count Altenberg's letters had unveiled completely the envoy Cunningham +Falconer's treachery, as far as it related to his intrigues abroad, and +other friends detected some of his manoeuvres with politicians at home, +to whom he had endeavoured to pay court, by betraying confidence reposed +in him respecting the Tourville papers. Much of the mischief Cunningham +had done this great minister still operated, unknown to his unsuspicious +mind: but sufficient was revealed to determine Lord Oldborough to +dismiss him from all future hopes of his favour. + +"Mr. Commissioner Falconer," he began one morning, the moment the +commissioner entered his cabinet, "Mr. Commissioner Falconer," in a tone +which instantly dispelled the smile at entrance from the commissioner's +countenance, and in the same moment changed his whole configurature. +"My confidence is withdrawn from your son, Mr. Cunningham Falconer--for +ever--and not without good reason--as you may--if you are not aware of +it already--see, by those papers." + +Lord Oldborough turned away, and asked his secretaries for his red box, +as he was going to council. + +Just as he left his cabinet, he looked back, and said, "Mr. Falconer, +you should know, if you be not already apprised of it, that your son +Cunningham is on his road to Denmark. You should be aware that the +journey is not made by my desire, or by his majesty's order, or by +any official authority; consequently he is travelling to the court of +Denmark at his own expense or yours--unless he can prevail upon his +Grace of Greenwich to defray his ambassadorial travelling charges, or +can afford to wait for them till a total change of administration--of +which, sir, if I see any symptoms to-day in council," added his +lordship, in the tone of bitter irony; "I will give you fair notice--for +fair dealing is what I practise." + +This said, the minister left the commissioner to digest his speech as he +might, and repaired to council, where he found every thing apparently +as smooth as usual, and where he was received by all, especially by the +highest, with perfect consideration. + +Meantime Commissioner Falconer was wretched beyond expression--wretched +in the certainty that his son, that he himself, had probably lost, +irrecoverably, one excellent patron, before they had secured, even +in case of change, another. This premature discovery of Cunningham's +intrigues totally disconcerted and overwhelmed him; and, in the +bitterness of his heart, he cursed the duplicity which he had taught +and encouraged, still more by example, than by precept. But Cunningham's +duplicity had more and closer folds than his own. Cunningham, conceited +of his diplomatic genius, and fearful of the cautious timidity of his +father, did not trust that father with the knowledge of all he did, +or half of what he intended; so that the commissioner, who had thought +himself at the bottom of every thing, now found that he, too, had been +cheated by his son with false confidences; and was involved by him in +the consequences of a scheme, of which he had never been the adviser. +Commissioner Falconer knew too well, by the experience of Cumberland +and others, the fate of those who suffer themselves to be lured on +by second-hand promises; and who venture, without being publicly +acknowledged by their employers, to undertake any diplomatic mission. +Nor would Cunningham, whose natural disposition to distrust was greater +than his father's, have sold himself to any political tempter, without +first signing and sealing the compact, had he been in possession of +his cool judgment, and had he been in any other than the desperate +circumstances in which he was placed. His secret conscience whispered +that his recall was in consequence of the detection of some of his +intrigues, and he dreaded to appear before the haughty, irritated +minister. Deceived also by news from England that Lord Oldborough's +dismission or resignation could not be distant, Cunningham had ventured +upon this bold stroke for an embassy. + +On Lord Oldborough's return from council, the commissioner, finding, +from his secret informants, that every thing had gone on smoothly, and +being over-awed by the confident security of the minister, began to +doubt his former belief; and, in spite of all the symptoms of change, +was now inclined to think that none would take place. The sorrow and +contrition with which he next appeared before Lord Oldborough were, +therefore, truly sincere; and when he found himself alone once more with +his lordship, earnest was the vehemence with which he disclaimed his +unworthy son, and disavowed all knowledge of the transaction. + +"If I had seen cause to believe that you had any part in this +transaction, sir, you would not be here at this moment: therefore +your protestations are superfluous--none would be accepted if any were +necessary." + +The very circumstance of the son's not having trusted the father +completely, saved the commissioner, for this time, from utter ruin: he +took breath; and presently--oh, weak man! doomed never to know how to +deal with a strong character--fancying that his intercession might avail +for his son, and that the pride of Lord Oldborough might be appeased, +and might be suddenly wrought to forgiveness, by that tone and posture +of submission and supplication used only by the subject to offended +majesty, he actually threw himself at the feet of the minister. + +"My gracious lord--a pardon for my son!" + +"I beseech you, sir!" cried Lord Oldborough, endeavouring to stop him +from kneeling--the commissioner sunk instantly on his knee. + +"Never will the unhappy father rise till his son be restored to your +favour, my lord." + +"Sir," said Lord Oldborough, "I have no favour for those who have no +sense of honour: rise, Mr. Falconer, and let not the father degrade +himself for the son--_unavailingly_." + +The accent and look were decisive--the commissioner rose. Instead of +being gratified, his patron seemed shocked, if not disgusted: far from +being propitiated by this sacrifice of dignity, it rendered him still +more averse; and no consolatory omen appearing, the commissioner +withdrew in silence, repenting that he had abased himself. After +this, some days and nights passed with him in all the horrors of +indecision--Could the minister weather the storm or not?--should Mr. +Falconer endeavour to reinstate himself with Lord Oldborough, or secure +in time favour with the Duke of Greenwich?--Mrs. Falconer, to whom +her husband's groans in the middle of the night at last betrayed the +sufferings of his mind, drew from him the secret of his fears and +meditations. She advised strongly the going over, decidedly, and in +time, but secretly, to the Greenwich faction. + +The commissioner knew that this could not be done secretly. The +attention of the minister was now awake to all his motions, and the +smallest movement towards his grace of Greenwich must be observed and +understood. On the other hand, to abide by a falling minister was folly, +especially when he had positively withdrawn his favour from Cunningham, +who had the most to expect from his patronage. Between these opposite +difficulties, notwithstanding the urgent excitations of Mrs. Falconer, +the poor commissioner could not bring himself to decide, till the time +for action was past. + +Another blow came upon him for which he was wholly unprepared--there +arrived from abroad accounts of the failure of a secret expedition; and +the general in his despatches named Colonel John Falconer as the officer +to whose neglect of orders he principally attributed the disappointment. +It appeared that orders had been sent to have his regiment at a certain +place at a given hour. At the moment these orders came, Colonel John +Falconer was out on a shooting party without leave. The troops, of +course, on which the general had relied, did not arrive in time, and +all his other combinations failed from this neglect of discipline and +disobedience of orders. Colonel Falconer was sent home to be tried by a +court-martial. + +"I pity you, sir," said Lord Oldborough, as Commissioner Falconer, white +as ashes, read in his presence these despatches--"I pity you, sir, from +my soul: here is no fault of yours--the fault is mine." + +It was one of the few faults of this nature which Lord Oldborough had +ever committed. Except in the instance of the Falconer family, none +could name any whom his lordship had placed in situations, for which +they were inadequate or unfit. Of this single error he had not foreseen +the consequences; they were more important, more injurious to him and to +the public, than he could have calculated or conceived. It appeared now +as if the Falconer family were doomed to be his ruin. That the public +knew, in general, that John Falconer had been promoted by ministerial +favour, Lord Oldborough was aware; but he imagined that the peculiar +circumstances of that affair were known only to himself and to +Commissioner Falconer's family. To his astonishment he found, at this +critical moment, that the whole transaction had reached the ear of +majesty, and that it was soon publicly known. The commissioner, with +protestations and oaths, declared that the secret had never, by his +means, transpired--it had been divulged by the baseness of his son +Cunningham, who betrayed it to the Greenwich faction. They, skilled in +all the arts of undermining a rival, employed the means that were thus +put into their power with great diligence and effect. + +It was observed at the levee, that the sovereign looked coldly upon +the minister. Every courtier whispered that Lord Oldborough had been +certainly much to blame. Disdainful of their opinions, Lord Oldborough +was sensibly affected by the altered eye of his sovereign. + +"What! After all my services!--At the first change of fortune!" + +This sentiment swelled in his breast; but his countenance was rigidly +calm, his demeanour towards the courtiers and towards his colleagues +more than usually firm, if not haughty. + +After the levee, he demanded a private audience. + +Alone with the king, the habitual influence of this great minister's +superior genius operated. The cold manner was changed, or rather, it was +changed involuntarily. From one "not used to the language of apology," +the frank avowal of a fault has a striking effect. Lord Oldborough +took upon himself the whole blame of the disaster that had ensued, in +consequence of his error, an error frequent in other ministers, in him, +almost unprecedented. + +He was answered with a smile of royal raillery, that the peculiar family +circumstances which had determined his lordship so rapidly to promote +that officer, must, to all fathers of families and heads of houses, if +not to statesmen and generals, be a sufficient and home apology. + +Considering the peculiar talent which his sovereign possessed, and in +which he gloried, that of knowing the connexions and domestic affairs, +not only of the nobility near his person, but of private individuals +remote from his court, Lord Oldborough had little cause to be surprised +that this secret transaction should be known to his majesty. Something +of this his lordship, with all due respect, hinted in reply. At the +termination of this audience, he was soothed by the condescending +assurance, that whilst the circumstances of the late unfortunate reverse +naturally created regret and mortification, no dissatisfaction with his +ministerial conduct mixed with these feelings; on the contrary, he was +assured that fear of the effect a disappointment might have on the mind +of the public, in diminishing confidence in his lordship's efforts for +the good of the country, was the sentiment which had lowered the spirits +and clouded the brow of majesty. + +His lordship returned thanks for the gracious demonstration of these +sentiments--and, bowing respectfully, withdrew. In the faces and +behaviour of the courtiers, as in a glass, he saw reflected the truth. +They all pretended to be in the utmost consternation; and he heard +of nothing but "apprehensions for the effect on the public mind," and +"fears for his lordship's popularity." His secretary, Mr. Temple, heard, +indeed, more of this than could reach his lordship's ear directly; for, +even now, when they thought they foresaw his fall, few had sufficient +courage to hazard the tone of condolence with Lord Oldborough, or to +expose the face of hypocrisy to the severity of his penetrating eye. +In secret, every means had been taken to propagate in the city, the +knowledge of all the circumstances that were unfavourable to the +minister, and to increase the dissatisfaction which any check in the +success of our armies naturally produces. The tide of popularity, which +had hitherto supported the minister, suddenly ebbed; and he fell, +in public opinion, with astonishing rapidity. For the moment all was +forgotten, but that he was the person who had promoted John Falconer to +be a colonel, against whom the cry of the populace was raised with all +the clamour of national indignation. The Greenwich faction knew how to +take advantage of this disposition. It happened to be some festival, +some holiday, when the common people, having nothing to do, are more +disposed than at any other time to intoxication and disorder. The +emissaries of designing partisans mixed with the populace, and a mob +gathered round the minister's carriage, as he was returning home late +one day--the same carriage, and the same man, whom, but a few short +weeks before, this populace had drawn with loud huzzas, and almost with +tears of affection. Unmoved of mind, as he had been when he heard their +huzzas, Lord Oldborough now listened to their execrations, till from +abuse they began to proceed to outrage. Stones were thrown at his +carriage. One of his servants narrowly escaped being struck. Lord +Oldborough was alone--he threw open his carriage-door, and sprang out on +the step. + +"Whose life is it you seek?" cried he, in a voice which obtained instant +silence. "Lord Oldborough's? Lord Oldborough stands before you. Take his +life who dares--a life spent in your service. Strike! but strike openly. +You are Englishmen, not assassins." + +Then, turning to his servants, he added, in a calm voice, "Home--slowly. +Not a man here will touch you. Keep your master in sight. If I fall, +mark by what hand." + +Then stepping down into the midst of the people, he crossed the street +to the flagged pathway, the crowd opening to make way for him. He walked +on with a deliberate firm step; the mob moving along with him, sometimes +huzzaing, sometimes uttering horrid execrations in horrid tones. Lord +Oldborough, preserving absolute silence, still walked on, never turned +his head, or quickened his pace, till he reached his own house. Then, +facing the mob, as he stood waiting till the door should be opened, the +people, struck with his intrepidity, with one accord joined in a shout +of applause. + +The next instant, and before the door was opened, they cried, "Hat +off!--Hat off!" + +Lord Oldborough's hat never stirred. A man took up a stone. + +"Mark that man!" cried Lord Oldborough. + +The door opened. "Return to your homes, my countrymen, and bless God +that you have not any of you to answer this night for murder!" + +Then entering his house, he took off his hat, and gave it to one of +his attendants. His secretary, Temple, had run down stairs to meet him, +inquiring what was the cause of the disturbance. + +"Only," said Lord Oldborough, "that I have served the people, but never +bent to them." + +"Curse them! they are not worth serving. Oh! I thought they'd have taken +my lord's life that minute," cried his faithful servant Rodney. "The +sight left my eyes. I thought he was gone for ever. Thank God! he's +safe. Take off my lord's coat--I can't--for the soul of me. Curse those +ungrateful people!" + +"Do not curse them, my good Rodney," said Lord Oldborough, smiling. +"Poor people, they are not ungrateful, only mistaken. Those who mislead +them are to blame. The English are a fine people. Even an English mob, +you see, is generous, and just, as far as it knows." + +Lord Oldborough was sound asleep this night, before any other individual +in the house had finished talking of the dangers he had escaped. + +The civil and military courage shown by the minister in the sudden +attack upon his character and person were such as to raise him again at +once to his former height in public esteem. His enemies were obliged +to affect admiration. The Greenwich party, foiled in this attempt, +now disavowed it. News of a victory effaced the memory of the late +disappointment. Stocks rose--addresses for a change of ministry +were quashed--addresses of thanks and congratulation poured in--Lord +Oldborough gave them to Mr. Temple to answer, and kept the strength of +his attention fixed upon the great objects which were essential to the +nation and the sovereign he served. + +Mr. Falconer saw that the storm had blown over, the darkness was +past--Lord Oldborough, firm and superior, stood bright in power, and +before him the commissioner bent more obsequious, more anxious than +ever. Anxious he might well be--unhappy father! the life, perhaps, +of one of his sons, his honour, certainly, at stake--the fortune of +another--his existence ruined! And what hopes of propitiating him, +who had so suffered by the favour he had already shown, who had +been betrayed by one of the family and disgraced by another. The +commissioner's only hope was in the recollection of the words, "I pity +you from my soul, sir," which burst from Lord Oldborough even at the +moment when he had most reason to be enraged against Colonel Falconer. +Following up this idea, and working on the generous compassion, of +which, but for this indication, he should not have supposed the stern +Lord Oldborough to be susceptible, the commissioner appeared before +him every day the image of a broken-hearted father. In silence Lord +Oldborough from time to time looked at him; and by these looks, more +than by all the promises of all the great men who had ever spoken to +him, Mr. Falconer was reassured; and, as he told Mrs. Falconer, who at +this time was in dreadful anxiety, he felt certain that Lord Oldborough +would not punish him for the faults of his sons--he was satisfied that +his place and his pension would not be taken from him--and that, at +least in fortune, they should not be utterly ruined. In this security +the commissioner showed rather more than his customary degree of +strength of mind, and more knowledge of Lord Oldborough's character than +he had upon most other occasions evinced. + +Things were in this state, when, one morning, after the minister had +given orders that no one should be admitted, as he was dictating some +public papers of consequence to Mr. Temple, the Duke of Greenwich was +announced. His grace sent in a note to signify that he waited upon Lord +Oldborough by order of his majesty; and that, if this hour were not +convenient, he begged to have the hour named at which his grace could be +admitted. His grace was admitted instantly. Mr. Temple retired--for it +was evident this was to be a secret conference. His grace of Greenwich +entered with the most important solemnity--infinitely more ceremonious +than usual; he was at last seated, and, after heavy and audible sighs, +still hesitated to open his business. Through the affected gloom and +dejection of his countenance Lord Oldborough saw a malicious pleasure +lurking, whilst, in a studied exordium, he spoke of the infinite +reluctance with which he had been compelled, by his majesty's express +orders, to wait upon his lordship on a business the most painful to his +feelings. As being a public colleague--as a near and dear connexion--as +a friend in long habits of intimacy with his lordship, he had prayed his +majesty to be excused; but it was his majesty's pleasure: he had only +now to beg his lordship to believe that it was with infinite concern, +&c. Lord Oldborough, though suffering under this circumlocution, never +condescended to show any symptom of impatience; but allowing his grace +to run the changes on the words and forms of apology, when these were +exhausted, his lordship simply said, that "his majesty's pleasure of +course precluded all necessity for apology." + +His grace was vexed to find Lord Oldborough still unmoved--he was sure +this tranquillity could not long endure: he continued, "A sad business, +my lord--a terrible discovery--I really can hardly bring myself to +speak--" + +Lord Oldborough gave his grace no assistance. + +"My private regard," he repeated. + +A smile of contempt on Lord Oldborough's countenance. + +"Your lordship's hitherto invulnerable public integrity--" + +A glance of indignation from Lord Oldborough. + +"_Hitherto_ invulnerable!--your grace will explain." + +"Let these--these fatal notes--letters--unfortunately got into the hands +of a leading, impracticable member of opposition, and by him laid--Would +that I had been apprised, or could have conceived it possible, time +enough to prevent that step; but it was done before I had the slightest +intimation--laid before his majesty--" + +Lord Oldborough calmly received the letters from his grace. + +"My own handwriting, and private seal, I perceive." + +The duke sighed--and whilst Lord Oldborough drew out, opened, and read +the first letter in the parcel, his grace went on--"This affair has +thrown us all into the greatest consternation. It is to be brought +before parliament immediately--unless a resignation should take +place--which we should all deplore. The impudence, the inveteracy of +that fellow, is astonishing--no silencing him. We might hush up the +affair if his majesty had not been apprised; but where the interest of +the service is concerned, his majesty is warm." + +"His majesty!" cried Lord Oldborough: "His majesty could not, I trust, +for a moment imagine these letters to be I mine?" + +"But for the hand and seal which I understood your lordship to +acknowledge, I am persuaded his majesty could not have believed it." + +"Believed! My king! did he believe it?" cried Lord Oldborough. His +agitation was for a moment excessive, uncontrollable. "No! that I +will never credit, till I have it from his own lips." Then commanding +himself, "Your grace will have the goodness to leave these letters with +me till to-morrow." + +His grace, with infinite politeness and regret, was under the necessity +of refusing this request. His orders were only to show the letters to +his lordship, and then to restore them to the hands of the member of +opposition who had laid them before his majesty. + +Lord Oldborough took off the cover of one of the letters, on which was +merely the address and seal. The address was written also at the bottom +of the letter enclosed, therefore the cover could not be of the least +importance. The duke could not, Lord Oldborough said, refuse to leave +this with him. + +To this his grace agreed--protesting that he was far from wishing to +make difficulties. If there were any thing else he could do--any thing +his lordship would wish to have privately insinuated or publicly said-- + +His lordship, with proud thanks, assured the duke he did not wish to +have any thing privately insinuated; and whatever it was necessary to +say or do publicly, he should do himself, or give orders to have done. +His lordship entered into no farther explanation. The duke at last +was obliged to take his leave, earnestly hoping and trusting that this +business would terminate to his lordship's entire satisfaction. + +No sooner was the duke gone than Lord Oldborough rang for his carriage. + +"Immediately--and Mr. Temple, instantly." + +Whilst his carriage was coming to the door, in the shortest manner +possible Lord Oldborough stated the facts to his secretary, that letters +had been forged in his lordship's name, promising to certain persons +promotion in the army--and navy--gratification--and pensions. Some were +addressed to persons who had actually obtained promotion, shortly after +the time of these letters; others contained reproaches for having been +ill-used. Even from the rapid glance Lord Oldborough had taken of these +papers, he had retained the names of several of the persons to whom +they were addressed--and the nature of the promotion obtained. They +were persons who could have had no claim upon an honest minister. His +lordship left a list of them with Mr. Temple--also the cover of the +letter, on which was a specimen of the forged writing and the private +seal. + +"I am going to the king. In my absence, Mr. Temple, think for me--I know +you feel for me. The object is to discover the authors of this forgery." + +"My lord, may I consult with Mr. Alfred Percy?" + +"Yes--with no other person." + +It was not Lord Oldborough's day for doing business with the king. +He was late--the king was going out to ride. His majesty received +the minister as usual; but notwithstanding the condescension of +his majesty's words and manner, it was evident to Lord Oldborough's +penetration, that there was a coldness and formality in the king's +countenance. + +"I beg I may not detain your majesty--I see I am late," said Lord +Oldborough. + +"Is the business urgent, my lord?" + +"No, sir; for it concerns principally myself: it can, therefore, wait +your majesty's leisure at any hour your majesty may appoint." + +The king dismounted instantly. + +"This moment, my lord, I am at leisure for any business that concerns +your lordship." + +The king returned to the palace--Lord Oldborough followed, and all the +spectators on foot and horseback were left full of curiosity. + +Notwithstanding the condescension of his majesty's words and manner, +and the polite promptitude to attend to any business that concerned his +lordship, it was evident to Lord Oldborough's penetration that there +was an unusual coldness and formality in the king's countenance and +deportment, unlike the graciousness of his reception when satisfied and +pleased. As soon as the business of the day had been gone through, Lord +Oldborough said he must now beg his majesty's attention on a subject +which principally concerned himself. The king looked as one prepared to +hear, but determined to say as little as possible. + +Lord Oldborough placed himself so as to give the king the advantage of +the light, which he did not fear to have full on his own countenance. + +"Sir, certain letters, signed with my name, and sealed with my seal, +have, I am informed, been laid before your majesty." + +"Your lordship has been rightly informed." + +"I trust--I hope that your majesty--" + +At the firm assertion, in the tone with which Lord Oldborough +pronounced, I _trust_--his majesty's eye changed--and moved away from +Lord Oldborough's, when he, with respectful interrogation of tone, +added, "I _hope_ your majesty could not believe those letters to be +mine." + +"Frankly, my lord," said the king, "the assertions, the insinuations of +no man, or set of men, of any rank or weight in my dominions, could by +any imaginable means have induced me to conceive it possible that such +letters had been written by your lordship. Not for one moment could +my belief have been compelled by any evidence less strong than your +lordship's handwriting and seal. I own, I thought I knew your lordship's +seal and writing; but I now see that I have been deceived, and I rejoice +to see it." + +"I thank your majesty. I cannot feel surprise that a forgery and a +counterfeit which, at first view, compelled my own belief of their being +genuine, should, for a moment, have deceived you, sir; but, I own, I +had flattered myself that my sovereign knew my heart and character, yet +better than my seal and signature." + +"Undoubtedly, my lord." + +"And I should have hoped that, if your majesty had perused those +letters, no assertions could have been necessary, on my part, to +convince you, sir, that they could not be mine. I have now only to +rejoice that your majesty is undeceived; and that I have not intruded +unnecessarily with this explanation. I am fully sensible, sir, of your +goodness, in having thus permitted me to make, as early as possible, +this assertion of my innocence. For the proofs of it, and for the +detection of the guilty, I am preparing; and I hope to make these as +clear to you, sir, as your majesty's assurance of the pleasure you feel +in being undeceived is satisfactory--consolatory to me," concluded Lord +Oldborough, with a bow of profound yet proud respect. + +"My lord," said the king, "I have no doubt that this affair will redound +to your honour, and _terminate to your lordship's entire satisfaction_." + +The very phrase used by the Duke of Greenwich. + +"As to myself, your lordship can have no farther anxiety; but I wish +your lordship's endeavours to detect and bring proofs home to the guilty +may be promptly successful--for the gratification of your own feelings, +and the satisfaction of the public mind, before the matter should be +brought forward in parliament." + +His majesty bowed, and as Lord Oldborough retired, he added some +gracious phrases, expressive of the high esteem he felt for the +minister, and the interest he had always, and should always take, +in whatever could contribute to his public and +private--_satisfaction_--(again). + +To an eye and ear less practised in courts than this minister's, +all that had been said would have been really satisfactory: but Lord +Oldborough discerned a secret embarrassment in the smile, a constraint +in the manner, a care, an effort to be gracious in the language, a +caution, a rounding of the periods, a recurrence to technical phrases of +compliment and amity, a want of the free fluent language of the heart; +language which, as it flows, whether from sovereign or subject, leaves +a trace that the art of courtier or of monarch cannot imitate. In all +attempts at such imitation, there is a want, of which vanity and even +interest is not always sensible, but which feeling perceives instantly. +Lord Oldborough felt it--and twice, during this audience, he was on the +point of offering his resignation, and twice, exerting strong power over +himself, he refrained. + +He saw plainly that he was not where he had been in the king's +confidence; that his enemies had been at work, and, in some measure, had +succeeded; that suspicions had been infused into the king's mind. That +his king had doubted him, his majesty had confessed--and Lord Oldborough +discerned that there was no genuine joy at the moment his majesty +was undeceived, no real anxiety for his honour, only the ostensible +manifestation suitable to the occasion--repeatable--or recordable. + +Still there was nothing of which he could complain; every expression, +if written down or repeated, must have appeared proper and gracious from +the sovereign to his minister; and for that minister to resign at such +a moment, from pride or pique, would have been fatal to the dignity, +perhaps to the integrity, of his character. + +Lord Oldborough reasoned thus as he stood in the presence of the king, +and compelled himself, during the whole audience, and to the last +parting moment, to preserve an air and tone of calm, respectful +self-possession. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +During Lord Oldborough's absence, his faithful secretary had been active +in his service. Mr. Temple went immediately to his friend Alfred Percy. +Alfred had just returned fatigued from the courts, and was resting +himself, in conversation with his wife and Caroline. + +"I am sorry to disturb you, Alfred," said Mr. Temple, "but I must take +you away from these ladies to consult you on particular business." + +"Oh! let the particular business wait till he has rested himself," said +Mrs. Percy, "unless it be a matter of life and death." + +"Life and death!" cried Lady Frances Arlington, running in at the open +door--"Yes, it is a matter of life and death!--Stay, Mr. Temple! Mr. +Percy! going the moment I come into the room--Impossible!" + +"Impossible it would be," said Mr. Temple, "in any other case; but--" + + "'When a lady's in the case, + You know all other things give place,'" + +cried Lady Frances. "So, positively, gentlemen, I stop the way. But, +Mr. Temple, to comfort you--for I never saw a man, gallant or ungallant, +look so impatient--I shall not be able to stay above a moment--Thank +you, Mrs. Percy, I can't sit down--Mrs. Crabstock, the crossest of +Crabstocks and stiffest of pattern-women, is in the carriage waiting for +me. Give me joy--I have accomplished my purpose, and without Lady Jane +Granville's assistance--obtained a permit to go with Lady Trant, +and made her take me to Lady Angelica's last night. Grand +conversazione!--Saw the German baron! Caught both the profiles--have 'em +here--defy you not to smile. Look," cried her ladyship, drawing out of +her _reticule_ a caricature, which she put into Caroline's hand; and, +whilst she was looking at it, Lady Frances went on speaking rapidly. +"Only a sketch, a scrawl in pencil, while they thought I was copying +a Sonnet to Wisdom--on the worst bit of paper, too, in the world--old +cover of a letter I stole from Lady Trant's _reticule_ while she was +at cards. Mr. Temple, you shall see my _chef-d'oeuvre_ by and by; don't +look at the reverse of the medal, pray. Did not I tell you, you were the +most impatient man in the world?" + +It was true that Mr. Temple was at this instant most impatient to get +possession of the paper, for on the back of that cover of the letter, +on which the caricature was drawn, the hand-writing of the direction +appeared to him--He dared scarcely believe his eyes--his hopes. + +"Mrs. Crabstock, my lady," said the footman, "is waiting." + +"I know, sir," said Lady Frances: "so, Caroline, you won't see the +likeness. Very well; if I can't get a compliment, I must be off. When +you draw a caricature, I won't praise it. Here! Mr. Temple, one look, +since you are dying for it." + +"One look will not satisfy me," cried Mr. Temple, seizing the paper: +"your ladyship must leave the drawing with us till to-morrow." + +"_Us--must_. Given at our court of St. James's. Lord Oldborough's own +imperative style." + +"Imperative! no; humbly I beseech your ladyship, thus humbly," cried Mr. +Temple, kneeling in jest, but keeping in earnest fast hold of the paper. + +"But why--why? Are you acquainted with Lady Angelica? I did not know you +knew her." + +"It is excellent!--It is admirable!--I cannot let it go. This hand that +seized it long shall hold the prize." + +"The man's mad! But don't think I'll give it to you--I would not give +it to my mother: but I'll lend it to you, if you'll tell me honestly why +you want it." + +"Honestly--I want to show it to a particular friend, who will be +delighted with it." + +"Tell me who, this minute, or you shall not have it." + +"Mrs. Crabstock, my lady, bids me say, the duchess--" + +"The duchess--the deuce!--if she's come to the duchess, I must go. +I hope your man, Mrs. Percy, won't tell Mrs. Crabstock he saw this +gentleman kneeling." + +"Mrs. Crabstock's getting out, my lady," said the footman, returning. + +"Mr. Temple, for mercy's sake, get up." + +"Never, till your ladyship gives the drawing." + +"There! there! let me go--audacious!" + +"Good morning to you, Mrs. Percy--Good bye, Caroline--Be at Lady Jane's +to-night, for I'm to be there." + +Her ladyship ran off, and met Mrs. Crabstock on the stairs, with whom we +leave her to make her peace as she pleases. + +"My dear Temple, I believe you are out of your senses," said Alfred: +"I never saw any man so importunate about a drawing that is not worth +a straw--trembling with eagerness, and kneeling!--Caroline, what do you +think Rosamond would have thought of all this?" + +"If she knew the whole, she would have thought I acted admirably," said +Mr. Temple. "But come, I have business." + +Alfred took him into his study, and there the whole affair was +explained. Mr. Temple had brought with him the specimen of the forgery +to show to Alfred, and, upon comparing it with the handwriting on the +cover of the letter on which the caricature was drawn, the similarity +appeared to be strikingly exact. The cover, which had been stolen, as +Lady Frances Arlington said, from Lady Trant's _reticule_, was directed +to Captain Nuttall. He was one of the persons to whom forged letters +had been written, as appeared by the list which Lord Oldborough had left +with Mr. Temple. The secretary was almost certain that his lordship +had never written with his own hand to any Captain Nuttall; but this he +could ask the moment he should see Lord Oldborough again. It seemed as +if this paper had never been actually used as the cover of a letter, +for it had no post-mark, seal, or wafer. Upon farther inspection, it was +perceived that a _t_ had been left out in the name of _Nuttall_; and it +appeared probable that the cover had been thrown aside, and a new one +written, in consequence of this omission. But Alfred did not think it +possible that Lady Trant could be the forger of these letters, because +he had seen some of her ladyship's notes of invitation to Caroline, and +they were written in a wretched cramped hand. + +"But that cramped hand might be feigned to conceal the powers of +penmanship," said Mr. Temple. + +"Well! granting her ladyship's talents were equal to the mere +execution," Alfred persisted in thinking she had not abilities +sufficient to invent or combine all the parts of such a scheme. "She +might be an accomplice, but she must have had a principal--and who could +that principal be?" + +The same suspicion, the same person, came at the same moment into the +heads of both gentlemen, as they sat looking at each other. + +"There is an intimacy between them," said Alfred. "Recollect all the +pains Lady Trant took for Mrs. Falconer about English Clay--they--" + +"Mrs. Falconer! But how could she possibly get at Lord Oldborough's +private seal--a seal that is always locked up--a seal never used to any +common letter, never to any but those written by his own hand to some +private friend, and on some very particular occasion? Since I have been +with him I have not seen him use that seal three times." + +"When and to whom, can you recollect?" said Alfred. + +"I recollect!--I have it all!" exclaimed Mr. Temple, striking the +table--"I have it! But, Lady Frances Arlington--I am sorry she is gone." + +"Why! what of her?--Lady Frances can have nothing more to do with the +business." + +"She has a great deal more, I can assure you--but without knowing it." + +"Of that I am certain, or all the world would have known it long ago: +but tell me how." + +"I recollect, at the time when I was dangling after Lady +Frances--there's good in every thing--just before we went down to +Falconer-court, her ladyship, who, you know, has always some reigning +fancy, was distracted about what she called _bread-seals_. She took off +the impression of seals with bread--no matter how, but she did--and used +to torment me--no, I thought it a great pleasure at the time--to procure +for her all the pretty seals I could." + +"But, surely, you did not give her Lord Oldborough's?" + +"I!--not I!--how could you imagine such a thing?" + +"You were in love, and might have forgotten consequences." + +"A man in love may forget every thing, I grant--except his fidelity. No, +I never gave the seal; but I perfectly recollect Lady Frances showing it +to me in her collection, and my asking her how she came by it." + +"And how did she?" + +"From the cover of a note which the duke, her uncle, had received from +Lord Oldborough; and I, at the time, remembered his lordship's having +written it to the Duke of Greenwich on the birth of his grandson. Lord +Oldborough had, upon a former occasion, affronted his grace by sending +him a note sealed with a wafer--this time his lordship took special +care, and sealed it with his private _seal of honour_." + +"Well! But how does this bring the matter home to Mrs. Falconer?" said +Alfred. + +"Stay--I am bringing it as near home to her as possible. We all went +down to Falconer-court together; and there I remember Lady Frances had +her collection of bread-seals, and was daubing and colouring them with +vermilion--and Mrs. Falconer was so anxious about them--and Lady Frances +gave her several--I must see Lady Frances again directly, to inquire +whether she gave her, among the rest, Lord Oldborough's--I'll go to Lady +Jane Granville's this evening on purpose. But had I not better go this +moment to Lady Trant?" + +Alfred advised, that having traced the matter thus far, they should not +hazard giving any alarm to Lady Trant or to Mrs. Falconer, but should +report to Lord Oldborough what progress had been made. + +Mr. Temple accordingly went home, to be in readiness for his lordship's +return. In the mean time the first exaltation of indignant pride having +subsided, and his cool judgment reflecting upon what had passed, Lord +Oldborough considered that, however satisfactory to his own mind might +be the feeling of his innocence, the proofs of it were necessary to +satisfy the public; he saw that his character would be left doubtful, +and at the mercy of his enemies, if he were in pique and resentment +hastily to resign, before he had vindicated his integrity. "_If_ your +proofs be produced, my lord!"--these words recurred to him, and his +anxiety to obtain these proofs rose high; and high was his satisfaction +the moment he saw his secretary, for by the first glance at Mr. Temple's +countenance he perceived that some discovery had been made. + +Alfred, that night, received through Mr. Temple his lordship's request, +that he would obtain what farther information he could relative to the +private seal, in whatever way he thought most prudent. His lordship +trusted entirely to his discretion--Mr. Temple was engaged with other +business. + +Alfred went with Caroline to Lady Jane Granville's, to meet Lady Frances +Arlington; he entered into conversation, and by degrees brought her to +his point, playing all the time with her curiosity, and humouring her +childishness, while he carried on his cross-examination. + +At first she could not recollect any thing about making the seals he +talked of. "It was a fancy that had passed--and a past fancy," she said, +"was like a past love, or a past beauty, good for nothing but to be +forgotten." However, by proper leading of the witness, and suggesting +time, place, and circumstance, he did bring to the fair lady's mind all +that he wanted her to remember. She could not conceive what interest Mr. +Percy could take in the matter--it was some jest about Mr. Temple, she +was sure. Yes, she did recollect a seal with a Cupid riding a lion, that +Mr. Temple gave her just before they went to Falconer-court--was that +what he meant? + +"No--but a curious seal--" (Alfred described the device.) + +"Lord Oldborough's! Yes, there was some such odd seal." But it was not +given to her by Mr. Temple--she took that from a note to her uncle, the +Duke of Greenwich. + +Yes--that, Alfred said, he knew; but what did her ladyship do with it? + +"You know how I got it! Bless me! you seem to know every thing I do +and say. You know my affairs vastly well--you act the conjuror +admirably--pray, can you tell me whom I am to marry?" + +"That I will--when your ladyship has told me to whom you gave that +seal." + +"That I would, and welcome, if I could recollect--but I really can't. If +you think I gave it to Mr. Temple, I assure you, you are mistaken--you +may ask him." + +"I know your ladyship did not give it to Mr. Temple--but to whom did you +give it?" + +"I remember now--not to any gentleman, after all--you are positively +out. I gave it to Mrs. Falconer." + +"You are certain of that, Lady Frances Arlington?" + +"I am certain, Mr. Alfred Percy." + +"And how can you prove it to me, Lady Frances?" + +"The easiest way in the world--by asking Mrs. Falconer. Only I don't go +there now much, since Georgiana and I have quarrelled--but what can make +you so curious about it?" + +"That's a secret."--At the word _secret_, her attention was fixed.--"May +I ask if your ladyship would know the seal again if you saw it?--Is +this any thing like the impression?" (showing her the seal on the forged +cover.) + +"The very same that I gave Mrs. Falconer, I'll swear to it--I'll tell +you how I know it particularly. There's a little outer rim here, with +points to it, which there is not to the other. I fastened my bread-seal +into an old setting of my own, from which I had lost the stone. Mrs. +Falconer took a fancy to it, among a number of others, so I let her have +it. Now I have answered all your questions--answer mine--Whom am I to +marry?" + +"Your ladyship will marry whomsoever--your ladyship _pleases_." + +"That was an ambiguous answer," she observed; "for that she _pleased_ +every body." Her ladyship was going to run on with some further +questions, but Alfred pretending that the oracle was not permitted to +answer more explicitly, left her completely in the dark as to what his +meaning had been in this whole conversation. + +He reported progress to Lord Oldborough--and his lordship slept as +soundly this night as he did the night after he had been attacked by the +mob. + +The next morning the first person he desired to see was Mr. +Falconer--his lordship sent for him into his cabinet. + +"Mr. Commissioner Falconer, I promised to give you notice, whenever I +should see any probability of my going out of power." + +"Good Heaven! my lord," exclaimed the commissioner, starting back. The +surprise, the consternation were real--Lord Oldborough had his eye upon +him to determine that point. + +"Impossible, surely!--I hope--" + +His hope flitted at the moment to the Duke of Greenwich--but returned +instantly: he had made no terms--had missed his time. If Lord Oldborough +should go out of office--his place, his pension, gone--utter ruin. + +Lord Oldborough marked the vacillation and confusion of his countenance, +and saw that he was quite unprepared. + +"I hope--Merciful Powers! I trust--I thought your lordship had triumphed +over all your enemies, and was firmer in favour and power than ever. +What can have occurred?" + +Without making any answer, Lord Oldborough beckoned to the commissioner +to approach nearer the window where his lordship was standing, and then +suddenly put into his hand the cover with the forged handwriting and +seal. + +"What am I to understand by this, my lord?" said the bewildered +commissioner, turning it backwards and forwards. "Captain Nuttall!--I +never saw the man in my life. May I ask, my lord, what I am to +comprehend from this?" + +"I see, sir, that you know nothing of the business." + +The whole was explained by Lord Oldborough succinctly. The astonishment +and horror in the poor commissioner's countenance and gestures, and +still more, the eagerness with which he begged to be permitted to try to +discover the authors of this forgery, were sufficient proofs that he had +not the slightest suspicion that the guilt could be traced to any of his +own family. + +Lord Oldborough's look, fixed on the commissioner, expressed what it had +once before expressed--"Sir, from my soul, I pity you!" + +The commissioner saw this look, and wondered why Lord Oldborough should +pity _him_ at a time when all his lordship's feelings should naturally +be for himself. + +"My lord, I would engage we shall discover--we shall trace it." + +"I believe that I have discovered--that I have traced it," said Lord +Oldborough; and he sighed. + +Now that sigh was more incomprehensible to the commissioner than all +the rest, and he stood with his lips open for a moment before he could +utter, "Why then resign, my lord?" + +"That is my affair," said Lord Oldborough. "Let us, if you please, sir, +think of yours; for, probably, this is the only time I shall ever more +have it in my power to be of the least service to you." + +"Oh! my lord--my lord, don't say so!" said the commissioner quite +forgetting all his artificial manner, and speaking naturally: "the last +time you shall have it in your power!--Oh! my dear lord, don't say so!" + +"My dear sir, I must--it gives me pain--you see it does." + +"At such a time as this to think of me instead of yourself! My lord, I +never knew you till this moment--so well." + +"Nor I you, sir," said Lord Oldborough. "It is the more unfortunate for +us both, that our connexion and intercourse must now for ever cease." + +"Never, never, my lord, if you were to go out of power to-morrow--which +Heaven, in its mercy and justice, forbid! I could never forget the +goodness--I would never desert--in spite of all interest--I should +continue--I hope your lordship would permit me to pay my duty--all +intercourse could never cease." + +Lord Oldborough saw, and almost smiled at the struggle between the +courtier and the man--the confusion in the commissioner's mind between +his feelings and his interest. Partly his lordship relieved, and partly +he pained Mr. Falconer, by saying, in his firm tone, "I thank you, Mr. +Falconer; but all intercourse must cease. After this hour, we meet +no more. I beg you, sir, to collect your spirits, and to listen to +me calmly. Before this day is at an end, you will understand why all +farther intercourse between us would be useless to your interest, and +incompatible with my honour. Before many hours are past, a blow will be +struck which will go to your heart--for I see you have one--and deprive +you of the power of thought. It is my wish to make that blow fall as +lightly upon you as possible." + +"Oh! my lord, your resignation would indeed be a blow I could never +recover. The bare apprehension deprives me at this moment of all power +of thought; but still I hope--" + +"Hear me, sir, I beg, without interruption: it is my business to think +for you. Go immediately to the Duke of Greenwich, make what terms with +him you can--make what advantage you can of the secret of my approaching +resignation--a secret I now put in your power to communicate to his +grace, and which no one yet suspects--I having told it to no one living +but to yourself. Go quickly to the duke--time presses--I wish you +success--and a better patron than I have been, than my principles would +permit me to be. Farewell, Mr. Falconer." + +The commissioner moved towards the door when Lord Oldborough said "_Time +presses_;" but the commissioner stopped--turned back--could not go: the +tears--real tears--rolled down his cheeks--Lord Oldborough went forward, +and held out his hand to him--the commissioner kissed it, with the +reverence with which he would have kissed his sovereign's hand; and +bowing, he involuntarily backed to the door, as if quitting the presence +of majesty. + +"It is a pity that man was bred a mere courtier, and that he is cursed +with a family on none of whom there is any dependence," thought Lord +Oldborough, as the door closed upon the commissioner for ever. + +Lord Oldborough delayed an hour purposely, to give Mr. Falconer +advantage of the day with the Duke of Greenwich: then ordered his +carriage, and drove to--Mrs. Falconer's. + +Great was her surprise at the minister's entrance.--"Concerned the +commissioner was not at home." + +"My business is with Mrs. Falconer." + +"My lord--your lordship--the honour and the pleasure of a +visit--Georgiana, my dear." + +Mrs. Falconer nodded to her daughter, who most unwillingly, and as if +dying with curiosity, retired. + +The smile died away upon Mrs. Falconer's lips as she observed the stern +gravity of Lord Oldborough's countenance. She moved a chair towards his +lordship--he stood, and leaning on the back of the chair, paused, as he +looked at her. + +"What is to come?--Cunningham, perhaps," thought Mrs. Falconer; "or +perhaps something about John. When will he speak?--I can't--I must--I am +happy to see your lordship looking so well." + +"Is Mrs. Falconer acquainted with Lady Trant?" + +"Lady Trant--yes, my lord." + +"Mercy! Is it possible?--No, for her own sake she would not betray me," +thought Mrs. Falconer. + +"Intimately?" said Lord Oldborough. + +"Intimately--that is, as one's intimate with every body of a certain +sort--one visits--but no farther--I can't say I have the honour--" + +Mrs. Falconer was so distracted by seeing Lord Oldborough searching in +his pocket-book for a letter, that in spite of all her presence of mind, +she knew not what she said; and all her presence of countenance failed, +when Lord Oldborough placed before her eyes the cover directed to +Captain Nuttall. + +Can you guess how this came into Lady Trant's possession, madam?" + +"I protest, my lord," her voice trembling, in spite of her utmost +efforts to command it, "I don't know--nor can I conceive--" + +"Nor can you conceive by whom it was written, madam?" + +"It appears--it bears a resemblance--some likeness--as far as I +recollect--but it is so long since I have seen your lordship's own +hand--and hands are so like--sometimes--and I am so bad a judge--every +hand, all fashionable hands, are so like." + +"And every seal like every seal?" said Lord Oldborough, placing the +counterfeit seal before Mrs. Falconer. "I recommend it to you, madam, to +waste no farther time in evasion; but to deliver to me the counterpart +of this seal, the impression of my private seal, which you had from Lady +Frances Arlington." + +"A mere bread-seal! Her ladyship surely has not said--I really have lost +it--if I ever had it--I declare your lordship terrifies me so, by this +strange mode--" + +"I recommend it to you once more, madam, and for the last time I +earnestly recommend it to you, to deliver up to me that seal, for I +have sworn to my belief that it is in your possession; a warrant will in +consequence be issued, to seize and search your papers. The purport of +my present visit, of which I should gladly have been spared the pain, +is to save you, madam, from the public disgrace of having a warrant +executed. Do not faint, madam, if you can avoid it, nor go into +hysterics; for if you do, I must retire, and the warrant must be +executed. Your best course is to open that desk, to give me up the seal, +to make to me at this instant a full confession of all you know of this +transaction. If you do thus, for your husband's sake, madam, I will, +as far as I can consistently with what is due to myself, spare you the +shame of an arrest." + +Mrs. Falconer, with trembling hands, unlocked the desk, and delivered +the seal. + +"And a letter which I see in the same hand-writing, madam, if you +please." + +She gave it; and then, unable to support herself longer, sunk upon +a sofa: but she neither fainted nor screamed--she was aware of the +consequences. Lord Oldborough opened the window to give her air. She was +relieved by a burst of tears, and was silent--and nothing was heard +but her sobs, which she endeavoured to suppress in vain. She was more +relieved on looking up by one glance at Lord Oldborough's countenance, +where she saw compassion working strongly. + +But before she could take any advantage of it, the expression +was changed, the feeling was controlled: he was conscious of its +weakness--he recollected what public justice, and justice to his own +character, required--he recollected all the treachery, the criminality, +of which she had been guilty. + +"Madam, you are not now in a condition, I see, to explain yourself +farther--I will relieve you from my presence: my reproaches you will +never hear; but I shall expect from you, before one hour, such an +avowal in writing of this whole transaction, as may, with the written +confession of Lady Trant, afford the proofs which are due to my +sovereign, and to the public, of my integrity." + +Mrs. Falconer bowed her head, covered her face, clasped her hands in +agony: as Lord Oldborough retired, she sprang up, followed to throw +herself at his feet, yet without knowing what she could say. + +"The commissioner is innocent!--If you forsake him, he is undone--all, +all of us, utterly ruined! Oh! Georgiana! Georgiana! where are you? +speak for me!" + +Georgiana was in an inner apartment, trying on a new robe _a la +Georgienne_. + +"Whatever you may wish farther to say to me, madam," said Lord +Oldborough, disengaging himself from her, and passing decidedly on, +before Georgiana appeared, "you will put in writing, and let me have +within this hour--or never." + +Within that hour, Commissioner Falconer brought, for Lord Oldborough, +the paper his wife had drawn up, but which he was obliged to deliver +to Mr. Temple; for Lord Oldborough had so ordered, and his lordship +persevered in refusing to see him more. Mrs. Falconer's paper was worded +with all the art and address of which she was mistress, and all the +pathos she could command--Lord Oldborough looked only for facts--these +he marked with his pencil, and observed where they corroborated and +where they differed from Lady Trant's confession, which Mr. Temple had +been charged to obtain during his lordship's visit to Mrs. Falconer. +The greater part of the night Lord Oldborough and Mr. Alfred Percy +were employed arranging these documents, so as to put the proofs in the +clearest and shortest form, to be laid before his majesty the succeeding +day. + +It appeared that Mrs. Falconer had been first tempted to these practices +by the distress for money into which extravagant entertainments, or, as +she stated, the expenses incident to her situation--expenses which far +exceeded her income--had led her. It was supposed, from her having kept +open house at times for the minister, that she and the commissioner had +great influence; she had been applied to--presents had been offered, and +she had long withstood. But at length, Lady Trant acting in concert with +her, they had been supplied with information by a clerk in one of the +offices, a relation of Lady Trant, who was a vain, incautious youth, +and, it seems, did not know the use made of his indiscretion: he told +what promotions he heard spoken of--what commissions were making out. +The ladies prophesied, and their prophecies being accomplished, they +gained credit. For some time they kept themselves behind the scenes--and +many, applying to A.B., and dealing with they did not know whom, paid +for promotions which would have come unpaid for; others paid, and were +never promoted, and wrote letters of reproach--Captain Nuttall was among +these, and he it was, who, finding himself duped, first stirred in the +business; and by means of an active member of opposition, to whom he +made known his secret grievance, brought the whole to light. + +The proofs arranged (and Lord Oldborough never slept till they were +perfected), he reposed tranquilly. The next day, asking an audience of +his majesty, he simply laid the papers on his majesty's table, observing +that he had been so fortunate as to succeed in tracing the forgery, and +that he trusted these papers contained all the necessary proofs. + +His lordship bowed and retired instantly, leaving his majesty to examine +the papers alone. + +The resolution to resign his ministerial station had long been forming +in Lord Oldborough's mind. It was not a resolution taken suddenly in +pride or pique, but after reflection, and upon strong reasons. It was a +measure which he had long been revolving in his secret thoughts. During +the enthusiasm of political life, the proverbial warnings against +the vanity of ambition, and the danger of dependence on the favour of +princes, had passed on his ear but as a schoolboy's lesson: a phrase +"to point a moral, or adorn a tale." He was not a reading man, and the +maxims of books he disregarded or disbelieved; but in the observations +he made for himself he trusted: the lessons he drew from life were never +lost upon him, and he acted in consequence of that which he believed, +with a decision, vigour, and invariability, seldom found even among +philosophers. Of late years he had, in real life, seen striking +instances of the treachery of courtiers, and had felt some symptoms +of insecurity in the smile of princes. Fortune had been favourable to +him--she was fickle--he determined to quit her before she should change. +Ambition, it is true, had tempted him--he had risen to her highest +pinnacle: he would not be hurled from high--he would descend +voluntarily, and with dignity. Lord Oldborough's habits of thought were +as different as possible from those of a metaphysician: he had reflected +less upon the course of his own mind than upon almost any other subject; +but he knew human nature practically; disquisitions on habit, passion, +or the sovereign good, were unread by him, nor, in the course of his +life, had he ever formed a system, moral or prudential; but the same +penetration, the same _longanimity_, which enabled him to govern the +affairs of a great nation, gave him, when his attention turned towards +himself, a foresight for his own happiness. In the meridian of life, he +had cherished ambition, as the only passion that could supply him with +motive strong enough to call great powers into great action. But of late +years he had felt something, not only of the waywardness of fortune, but +of the approaches of age--not in his mind, but in his health, which had +suffered by his exertions. The attacks of hereditary gout had become +more violent and more frequent. If he lived, these would, probably, at +seasons, often incapacitate him from his arduous ministerial duties: +much, that he did well, must be ill done by deputy. He had ever +reprobated the practice of leaving the business of the nation to be done +by clerks and underlings in office. Yet to this the minister, however +able, however honest, must come at last, if he persist in engrossing +business and power beyond what an individual can wield. Love for his +country, a sense of his own honour, integrity, and consistency, here +combined to determine this great minister to retire while it was yet +time--to secure, at once, the dignity and happiness of the evening +of life. The day had been devoted to good and high purposes--that was +enough--he could now, self-satisfied and full of honour, bid adieu to +ambition. This resolution, once formed, was fixed. In vain even his +sovereign endeavoured to dissuade him from carrying it into execution. + +When the king had examined the papers which Lord Oldborough had laid +before him, his majesty sent for his lordship again, and the moment +the minister entered the cabinet, his majesty expressed his perfect +satisfaction in seeing that his lordship had, with so little trouble, +and with his usual ability, got to the bottom of this affair. + +What was to be done next? The Duke of Greenwich was to be summoned. His +grace was in astonishment when he saw the papers which contained Lord +Oldborough's complete vindication, and the crimination of Mrs. Falconer. +Through the whole, as he read on, his grace had but one idea, viz. +"Commissioner Falconer has deceived me with false intelligence of the +intended resignation." Not one word was said by Lord Oldborough to give +his grace hope of that event--till the member of opposition by whom the +forged letters had been produced--till all those who knew or had heard +any thing of the transaction were clearly and fully apprised of the +truth. After this was established, and that all saw Lord Oldborough +clear and bright in honour, and, at least apparently, as firm in power +as he had ever been, to the astonishment of his sovereign his lordship +begged permission to resign. + +Whatever might have been the effect of misrepresentation, to lower Lord +Oldborough's favour, at the moment when he spoke of retiring, his king +recollected all his past services--all that must, in future, be hazarded +and lost in parting with such a minister--so eminent in abilities, of +such tried integrity, of such fidelity, such attachment to his person, +such a zealous supporter of royalty, such a favourite with his people, +so successful as well as so able a minister! Never was he so much valued +as at this moment. All his sovereign's early attachment returned in full +strength and warmth. + +"No, my lord, you must not--you will not leave me." + +These simple words, spoken with the warmth of the heart, touched Lord +Oldborough more than can be told. It was difficult to resist them, +especially when he saw tears in the eyes of the monarch whom he loved. + +But his resolution was taken. He thanked his majesty, not with the +common-place thanks of courtiers, but with his whole heart and soul he +thanked his majesty for this gracious condescension--this testimony +of approbation--these proofs of sensibility to his attachment, which +paid--overpaid him, in a moment, for the labours of a life. The +recollection of them would be the glory, the solace of his age--could +never leave his memory while life lasted--would, he thought, be present +to him, if he should retain his senses, in his dying moment. But he was, +in the midst of this strong feeling, firm to the resolution his reason +had taken. He humbly represented, that he had waited for a favourable +time when the affairs of the country were in a prosperous train, when +there were few difficulties to embarrass those whom his majesty might +name to succeed to his place at the head of administration: there were +many who were ambitious of that station--zeal, talents, and the activity +of youth were at his majesty's command. For himself, he found it +necessary for his health and happiness to retire from public business; +and to resign the arduous trust with which he had been honoured. + +"My lord, if I must accept of your resignation, I must--but I do it with +regret. Is there any thing your lordship wishes--any thing you will name +for yourself or your friends, that I can do, to show my sense of your +services and merit?" + +"For myself, your majesty's bounty has left me nothing to wish." + +"For your friends, then, my lord?--Let me have the satisfaction of +obliging you through them." + +Nothing could be more gracious or more gratifying than the whole of this +parting audience. It was Lord Oldborough's last audience. + +The news of his resignation, quickly whispered at court, was not that +day publicly known or announced. The next morning his lordship's door +was crowded beyond example in the memory of ministers. Mr. Temple, +by his lordship's order, announced as soon as possible the minister's +having resigned. All were in astonishment--many in sorrow: some few--a +very few of the most insignificant of the crowd, persons incapable +of generous sympathy, who thought they could follow their own paltry +interests unnoticed--left the room, without paying their farewell +respects to this great minister--minister now no more. + +The moment he appeared, there was sudden silence. All eyes were fixed +upon him, every one pressing to get into the circle. + +"Gentlemen, thank you for these marks of attention--of regard. Mr. +Temple has told you--you know, my friends, that I am a man without +power." + +"We know," answered a distinguished gentleman, "that you are Lord +Oldborough. With or without power, the same in the eyes of your friends, +and of the British nation." + +Lord Oldborough bowed low, and looked gratified. His lordship then went +round the circle with an air more cheerful, more free from reserve, than +usual; with something in his manner more of sensibility, but nothing +less of dignity. All who merited distinction he distinguished by some +few appropriate words, which each remembered afterwards, and repeated to +their families and friends. He spoke or listened to each individual with +the attention of one who is courting, not quitting, popularity. Free +from that restraint and responsibility which his public and ministerial +duties had imposed upon him, he now entered into the private concerns +of all, and gave his parting assistance or counsel. He noted all +grievances--registered all promises that ought to be recommended to +the care of his successor in office. The wishes of many, to whom he had +forborne to give any encouragement, he now unexpectedly fulfilled and +surpassed. When all were satisfied, and had nothing more to ask or to +hope from him, they yet delayed, and parted from Lord Oldborough with +difficulty and regret. + +A proof that justice commands more than any other quality the respect +and gratitude of mankind. Take time and numbers into the calculation, +and all discover, in their turn, the advantage of this virtue. This +minister, a few regretted instances excepted, had shown no favour, but +strict justice, in his patronage. + +All Lord Oldborough's requests for his friends were granted--all his +recommendations attended to: it was grateful to him to feel that +his influence lasted after his power had ceased. Though the sun had +apparently set, its parting rays continued to brighten and cheer the +prospect. + +Under a new minister, Mr. Temple declined accepting of the embassy which +had been offered to him. Remuneration suitable to his services, and to +the high terms in which Lord Oldborough had spoken of his merit, was +promised; and without waiting to see in what form, or manner, this +promise would be accomplished, the secretary asked and obtained +permission to accompany his revered master to his retirement. Alfred +Percy, zealous and ardent in Lord Oldborough's service, the more +this great man's character had risen upon his admiration, had already +hastened to the country to prepare every thing at Clermont-park for his +reception. By his orders, that establishment had been retrenched; by +Alfred Percy's activity it was restored. Services, which the richest +nobleman in the land could not have purchased, or the highest have +commanded, Alfred was proud to pay as a voluntary tribute to a noble +character. + +Lord Oldborough set out for the country at a very early hour in the +morning, and no one previously knew his intentions, except Mr. Temple. +He was desirous to avoid what it had been whispered was the design +of the people, to attend him in crowds through the streets of the +metropolis. + +As they drove out of town, Lord Oldborough recollected that in some +account, either of the Duke of Marlborough, or the Duke of Ormond's +leaving London, after his dismission from court, it is said, that of all +those whom the duke had served, all those who had courted and flattered +him in the time of his prosperity and power, none showed any gratitude +or attachment, excepting one page, who appeared at the coach-door as his +master was departing, and gave some signs of genuine sorrow and respect. + +"I am fortunate," said Lord Oldborough, "in having few complaints to +make of ingratitude. I make none. The few I might make," continued his +lordship, who now rewarded Mr. Temple's approved fidelity, by speaking +to him with the openness and confidence of friendship, "the few I might +make have been chiefly caused by errors of my own in the choice of the +persons I have obliged. I thank Heaven, however, that upon the whole +I leave public life not only with a good conscience, but with a good +opinion of human nature. I speak not of courtiers--there is nothing of +nature about them--they are what circumstances make them. Were I to live +my life over again, the hours spent with courtiers are those which I +should most wish to be spared; but by a statesman, or a minister, these +cannot be avoided. For myself, in resigning my ministerial office, +I might say, as Charles the Fifth, when he abdicated, said to his +successor, 'I leave you a heavy burthen; for since my shoulders have +borne it, I have not passed one day exempt from anxiety.' + +"But from the first moment I started in the course of ambition, I was +aware that tranquillity must be sacrificed; and to the last moment I +abided by the sacrifice. The good I had in view, I have reached--the +prize at which I aimed, I have won. The glory of England was my +object--her approbation my reward. Generous people!--If ever I bore toil +or peril in your cause, I am rewarded, and never shall you hear me +say that 'the unfruitful glories please no more.' The esteem of my +sovereign!--I possess it. It is indefeasibly mine. His favour, his +smiles, are his to give, or take away. Never shall he hear from me the +_wailings_ of disappointed ambition." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +Caroline took advantage of the opportunity of returning home with her +brother Alfred, when he went to the country, to prepare Clermont-park +for the reception of Lord Oldborough. And now she saw her home again +with more than wonted delight. Every thing animate and inanimate seemed +to smile upon her, every heart rejoiced at her return; and she enjoyed +equally the pleasure of loving, and of being beloved by, such friends. +She had been amused and admired during her residence in London; but a +life of dissipation she had always thought, and now she was convinced +from experience, could never suit her taste or character. She would +immediately have resumed her former occupations, if Rosamond would have +permitted; but Rosamond took entire possession of her at every moment +when her father or mother had not claimed their prior right to hear and +to be heard. + +"Caroline, my dear, don't natter yourself that you shall be left in +peace--See!--she is sitting down to write a letter, as if she had +not been away from us these six months--You must write to Lady Jane +Granville!--Well, finish your gratitude quickly--and no more writing, +reading, or drawing, this day; you must think of nothing but talking, or +listening to me." + +Much as she loved talking in general, Rosamond now so far preferred +the pleasure of hearing, that, with her eyes fixed on Caroline, her +countenance varying with every variety of Caroline's expression, she +sat perfectly silent all the time her sister spoke. And scarcely was her +voice heard, even in exclamation. But, during the pauses of narrative, +when the pause lasted more than a minute, she would say, "Go on, my dear +Caroline, go on. Tell us something more." + +The conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Mr. +Temple--and Rosamond did not immediately find her fluency of speech +increase. Mr. Temple had seized the first moment that duty and gratitude +to his master and friend permitted to hasten to the Hills, nor had Lord +Oldborough been unmindful of his feelings. Little as his lordship was +disposed to think of love affairs, it seems he recollected those of his +secretary; for, the morning after their arrival at Clermont-park, when +he proffered his services, Lord Oldborough said, that he had only +to trouble Mr. Temple to pay a visit for him, if it would not be +disagreeable, to his old friend Mr. Percy. + +"Tell him that I know his first wish will be to come to show me that it +is the man, not the minister, for whom he had a regard: tell him this +proof of his esteem is unnecessary. He will wish to see me for another +reason: he is a philosopher--and will have a philosophical curiosity to +discover how I exist without ambition. But of that he cannot yet form a +judgment--nor can I: therefore, if he pleases, let his visit be delayed +till next week. I have some papers to arrange, which I should wish +to show him, and I cannot have them sooner in readiness. If you, Mr. +Temple, can contrive to pass this week at Mr. Percy's, let me not detain +you. There is no fear," added he, smiling, that "in solitude I should +be troubled by the spectre which haunted the minister in Gil Blas in his +retirement." + +Never was man happier than Mr. Temple, when he found himself in the +midst of the family circle at the Hills, and seated beside Rosamond, +free from all cares, all business, all intrigues of courtiers, and +restraints of office; no longer in the horrors of, attendance and +dependence, but with the promise of a competent provision for life--with +the consciousness of its having been, honourably obtained; and to +brighten all, the hope, the delightful hope, of soon prevailing on the +woman he loved, to become his for ever. + +Alfred Percy had been obliged to return directly to London, and for once +in his life Mr. Temple benefited by the absence of his friend. In the +small house at the Hills, Alfred's was the only room that could have +been spared for him; and in this room, scarcely fourteen feet square, +the ex-secretary found himself lodged more entirely to his satisfaction +than he had ever been in the sumptuous apartments of the great. The +happy are not fastidious as to their accommodations; they never miss the +painted ceiling, or the long arcade, and their slumbers require no bed +of down. The lover's only fear was, that this happy week would pass too +swiftly; and, indeed, time flew unperceived by him, and by Rosamond. +One fine day, after dinner, Mrs. Percy proposed, that instead of sitting +longer in the house, they should have their dessert of strawberries in +some pleasant place in the lawn or wood. Rosamond eagerly seconded this +proposal, and whispered, "Caroline's bower." + +Thither they went. This bower of Caroline, this favourite spot, +Rosamond, during her sister's absence, had taken delight in ornamenting, +and it did credit as much to her taste as to her kindness. She had +opened a view on one side to a waterfall among the rocks; on the other, +to a winding path descending through the glen. Honey-suckle, rose, and +eglantine, near the bower, were in rich and wild profusion; all these, +the song of birds, and even the smell of the new-mown grass, seemed +peculiarly delightful to Mr. Temple. Of late years he had been doomed to +close confinement in a capital city; but all his tastes were rural, +and, as he said, he feared he should expose himself to the ridicule Dr. +Johnson throws on those "who talk of sheep and goats, and who babble of +green fields." + +Mr. Percy thought Dr. Johnson was rather too intolerant of rural +description, and of the praises of a country life, but acknowledged that +he quite agreed with him in disliking, pastorals--excepting always that +beautiful drama, "The Gentle Shepherd." Mr. Percy said, that, in his +opinion, a life purely pastoral must, if it could be realized, prove +as insufferably tiresome in reality, as it usually is found to be in +fiction. He hated Delias and shepherdesses, and declared that he should +soon grow tired of any companion with whom he had no other occupation +in common but "_tending a few sheep_." There was a vast difference, he +thought, between pastoral and domestic life. His idea of domestic life +comprised all the varieties of literature, exercise, and amusement for +the faculties, with the delights of cultivated society. + +The conversation turned from pastoral life and pastorals to Scotch and +English ballads and songs. Their various merits of simplicity, pathos, +or elegance, were compared and discussed. After the Reliques of Ancient +Poetry had been sufficiently admired, Rosamond and Caroline mentioned +two modern compositions, both by the same author, each exquisite in its +different style of poetry--one beautiful, the other sublime. Rosamond's +favourite was the Exile of Erin; Caroline's, the Mariners of England. +To justify their tastes, they repeated the poems. Caroline fixed the +attention of the company on the flag, which has + + "Braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze," + +when suddenly her own attention seemed to be distracted by some object +in the glen below. She endeavoured to go on, but her voice faltered--her +colour changed. Rosamond, whose quick eye followed her sister's, +instantly caught a glimpse of a gentleman coming up the path from the +glen. Rosamond started from her seat, and clasping her hands, exclaimed, +"It is! It _is_ he!--It is Count Altenberg!" + +They had not recovered from their astonishment when Count Altenberg +stood before them. To Mr. Percy, to Mrs. Percy, to Rosamond, to each he +spoke, before he said one word to Caroline. But one look had said all, +had spoken, and had been understood. + +That he was not married she was certain--for that look said he loved +her--and her confidence in his honour was secure: Whatever had delayed +his return, or had been mysterious in his conduct, she felt convinced +that he had never been to blame. + +And on his part did he read as distinctly the truth in her +countenance?--Was the high colour, the radiant pleasure in that +countenance unmarked? The joy was so veiled by feminine modesty, that he +doubted, trembled, and if at last the rapid feelings ended in hope, +it was respectful hope. With deference the most marked, mingled with +dignity, tenderness, and passion, he approached Caroline. He was too +delicate, too well-bred, to distress her by distinguishing her more +particularly; but as he took the seat, which she left for him beside her +mother, the open and serene expression of her eye, with the soft sound +of her voice, in the few words she answered to what he said, were enough +to set his heart at ease. The sight of Mr. Temple had at first alarmed +the Count, but the alarm was only momentary. One glance at Rosamond +re-assured him. + +Ideas, which it requires many words to tell, passed instantaneously with +the rapidity of light. After they were seated, some minutes were spent +in common-place questions and answers, such as those which Benjamin +Franklin would wisely put all together, into one formula, to satisfy +curiosity. Count Altenberg landed the preceding day--had not stopped +to see any one in England--had not even heard of Lord Oldborough's +resignation--had proceeded directly to the Hills--had left his equipage +at a town a few miles distant--thought he had been fully master of the +well-known road, but the approach having been lately changed, he had +missed his way. + +This settled, to make room for a more interesting explanation, Mr. +Temple had the politeness to withdraw. Rosamond had the humanity, and +Caroline the discretion, to accompany him in his walk. + +Count Altenberg then said, addressing himself to Mr. Percy, on whose +regard he seemed to have reliance, and to Mrs. Percy, whom he appeared +most anxious to interest in his favour, "You certainly, sir, as a man +of penetration, and a father; you, madam, as a mother, and as a lady who +must have been accustomed to the admiration of our sex, could not avoid +seeing, when I was in this country before, that I felt the highest +admiration, that I had formed the strongest attachment for your +daughter--Miss Caroline Percy." + +Mr. and Mrs. Percy both acknowledged that they thought Count Altenberg +had shown some preference for Caroline; but as he had never declared +his attachment, they had not felt themselves justified in inferring +more from his attentions than his general good opinion. A change in +his manner, which they observed shortly before they quitted Hungerford +Castle, had impressed them with the idea that he had no such views as +they had once been led to imagine, and their never having heard any +thing from him since, had confirmed them in this belief. + +"Painful--exquisitely painful, as it was to me," said Count Altenberg, +"I felt myself bound in honour to leave you in that error; and, at all +hazards to myself, to suffer you to continue under that persuasion, as +I was then, and have been till within these few days, in dread of +being obliged to fulfil an engagement, made without my concurrence or +knowledge, and which must for ever have precluded me from indulging +the first wish of my heart. The moment, literally the moment I was +at liberty, I hastened hither, to declare my real sentiments, and to +solicit your permission to address your daughter. But before I can +expect that permission, before I can hope for your approbation of my +suit--an approbation which, I am well aware, must depend entirely upon +your opinion of my character--I must, to explain whatever may have +appeared unintelligible in my conduct, be permitted to make you fully +acquainted with the circumstances in which I have been placed." + +Beginning with the history of his father's letters and his own, +respecting the projected marriage with the Countess Christina, he +related, nearly as follows, all that passed, after his having, in +obedience to his father's summons, returned home. He found contracts +drawn up and ready for his signature--the friends of both families +apprized of the proposed alliance, and every thing actually prepared +for his marriage. Remonstrances with his father were vain. The old Count +said that it was impossible to break off the match, that his honour and +the honour of his house was pledged. But independently of all promises, +he considered the accomplishment of this marriage as most desirable and +advantageous: with all the vehemence of affection, and all the force of +parental authority, he charged his son to fulfil his engagements. The +old Count was a fond but an imperious father; a good but an ambitious +man. It was his belief that love is such a transient passion, that it +is folly to sacrifice to its indulgence any of the solid and permanent +interests of life. His experience at courts, and his observation on the +gallantries of young princes and nobles, had taught him to believe that +love is not only a transient, but a variable and capricious feeling, +easily changing its object, and subsisting only by novelty. All that +his son said of his attachment to Caroline, of the certainty of its +permanence, and of its being essential to the happiness of his life, the +father heard but as the common language of every enamoured youth. He let +his son speak without interruption, but smiled incredulous, and listened +only as to the voice of one in the paroxysm of a passion, which, however +violent, would necessarily subside. Between the fits, he endeavoured +to control the fever of his mind, and as a spell repeated these words, +"Albert! see the young Countess Christina--but once--I ask no more." + +Albert, with the respect due to a father, but with the firmness due to +himself, and with all the courage which love only could have given to +oppose the authority and affection of a parent, refused to ratify the +contract that had been prepared, and declined the proposed interview. +He doubted not, he said, that the lady was all his father +described--beautiful, amiable, and of transcendant talents; he doubted +not her power to win any but a heart already won. He would enter into +no invidious comparisons, nor bid defiance to her charms--his own choice +was made, he was sure of his constancy, and he thought it not only the +most honourable course, but the most respectful to the Lady Christina, +ingenuously at once, and without having any interview with her, or her +friends, to state the truth--that the treaty had been commenced by his +father without his knowledge, and carried on under total ignorance of an +attachment he had formed in England. The father, after some expressions +of anger and disappointment, was silent, and appeared to acquiesce. He +no longer openly urged the proposed interview, but he secretly contrived +that it should take place. At a masked ball at court, Count Albert +entered into conversation with a Minerva, whose majestic air and figure +distinguished her above her companions, whose language, thoughts, and +sentiments, perfectly sustained the character which she assumed. He was +struck with admiration by her talents, and by a certain elevation of +thought and sentiment, which, in all she said, seemed the habitual +expression of a real character, not the strained language of a feigned +personage. She took off her mask--he was dazzled by her beauty. They +were at this moment surrounded by numbers of her friends and of his, +who were watching the effect produced by this interview. His father, +satisfied by the admiration he saw in Count Albert's countenance, when +they both took off their masks, approached and whispered, "the Countess +Christina." Count Altenberg grew pale, and for a moment stood in silent +consternation. The lady smiled with an air of haughty superiority, which +in some degree relieved him, by calling his own pride to his aid, and +by convincing him that tenderness, or feminine timidity, which he would +have most dreaded to wound, were not the characteristics of her mind. +He instantly asked permission to pay his respects to her at her father's +palace the ensuing day. She changed colour--darted a penetrating glance +at the Count; and after an incomprehensible and quick alternation of +pleasure and pain in her countenance, she replied, that "she consented +to grant Count Albert Altenberg that interview which he and their mutual +friends desired." She then retired with friends from the assembly. + +In spite of the haughtiness of her demeanour, it had been obvious that +she had desired to make an impression upon Count Albert; and all who +knew her agreed that she had never on any occasion been seen to exert +herself so much to shine and please. She shone, but had not pleased. The +father, however, was content; an interview was promised--he trusted to +the charms and talents of the Countess--he trusted to her flattering +desire to captivate, and with impatience and confidence, he waited for +the event of the succeeding day. Some intervening hours, a night of +feverish and agonizing suspense, would have been spared to Count Albert, +had he at this time known any thing of an intrigue--an intrigue which an +artful enemy had been carrying on, with design to mortify, disgrace, and +ruin his house. The plan was worthy of him by whom it was formed--M. +de Tourville--a person, between whom and Count Albert there seemed an +incompatibility of character, and even of manner; an aversion openly, +indiscreetly shown by the Count, even from his boyish years, but +cautiously concealed on the part of M. de Tourville, masked in courtly +smiles and a diplomatic air of perfect consideration. Fear mixed with M. +de Tourville's dislike. He was aware that if Count Albert continued in +confidence with the hereditary prince, he would, when the prince should +assume the reins of government, become, in all probability, his prime +minister, and then adieu to all M. de Tourville's hopes of rising to +favour and fortune. Fertile in the resources of intrigue, gallant and +political, he combined them, upon this occasion, with exquisite address. +When the Countess Christina was first presented at court, he had +observed that the Prince was struck by her beauty. M. de Tourville took +every means that a courtier well knows how to employ, to flatter the +taste by which he hoped to benefit. In secret he insinuated into the +lady's ear that she was admired by the prince. M. de Tourville knew her +to be of an aspiring character, and rightly judged that ambition was her +strongest passion. When once the hope of captivating the prince had been +suggested to her, she began to disdain the proposed alliance with the +house of Altenberg; but she concealed this disdain, till she could show +it with security: she played her part with all the ability, foresight, +and consummate prudence, of which ambition, undisturbed by love, is +capable. Many obstacles opposed her views: the projected marriage with +Count Albert Altenberg--the certainty that the reigning prince would +never consent to his son's forming an alliance with the daughter of +a subject. But the old Prince was dying, and the Lady Christina +calculated, that till his decease, she could protract the time appointed +for her marriage with Count Albert. The young Prince might then break +off the projected match, prevail upon the Emperor to create her a +Princess of the empire, and then, without derogating from his rank, +or giving offence to German ideas of propriety, he might gratify his +passion, and accomplish the fulness of her ambition. Determined to +take no counsel but her own, she never opened her scheme to any of her +friends, but pursued her plan secretly, in concert with M. de Tourville, +whom she considered but as a humble instrument devoted to her service. +He all the while considering her merely as a puppet, played by his art, +to secure at once the purposes of his interest and of his hatred. He +thought he foresaw that Count Albert would never yield his intended +bride peaceably to his prince--he knew nothing of the Count's attachment +in England--the Lady Christina was charming--the alliance highly +advantageous to the house of Altenberg--the breaking off such a +marriage, and the disappointment of a passion which he thought the young +Countess could not fail to inspire, would, as M. de Tourville hoped, +produce an irreparable breach between the Prince and his favourite. On +Count Albert's return from England, symptoms of alarm and jealousy had +appeared in the Prince, unmarked by all but by the Countess Christina, +and by the confidant, who was in the secret of his passion. + +So far M. de Tourville's scheme had prospered, and from the character of +the hereditary Prince, it was likely to succeed in its ultimate view. He +was a Prince of good dispositions, but wanting in resolution and civil +courage: capable of resisting the allurements of pleasure for a certain +time, but soon weary of painful endurance in any cause; with a taste for +virtue, but destitute of that power to bear and forbear, without which +there is no virtue: a hero, when supported by a stronger mind, such as +that of his friend, Count Albert; but relaxing and sinking at once, when +exposed to the influence of a flatterer such as M. de Tourville: subject +to exquisite shame and self-reproach, when he had acted contrary to his +own idea of right; yet, from the very same weakness that made him err, +disposed to be obstinate in error. M. de Tourville argued well from his +knowledge of his character, that the Prince, enamoured as he was of +the charms of the fair Christina, would not long be able to resist his +passion; and that if once he broke through his sense of honour, and +declared that passion to the destined bride of his friend, he would ever +afterwards shun and detest the man whom he had injured. All this M. de +Tourville had admirably well combined: no man understood and managed +better the weaknesses of human nature, but its strength he could not +so well estimate; and as for generosity, as he could not believe in its +sincerity, he was never prepared for its effects. The struggles +which the Prince made against his passion were greater, and of longer +duration, than M. de Tourville had expected. If Count Albert had +continued absent, the Prince might have been brought more easily to +betray him; but his return recalled, in the midst of love and jealousy, +the sense of respect he had for the superior character of this friend +of his early days: he knew the value of a friend--even at the moment +he yielded his faith to a flatterer. He could not at once forfeit the +esteem of the being who esteemed him most--he could not sacrifice the +interest, and as he thought, the happiness, of the man who loved +him best. The attachment his favourite had shown him, his truth, his +confiding openness of temper, the pleasure in his countenance when he +saw him first upon his return from England, all these operated on the +heart of the Prince, and no declaration of his passion had been made at +the time when the appointed interview took place between Count Albert +and the Countess Christina at her father's palace. Her friends not +doubting that her marriage was on the eve of its accomplishment, had no +scruple, even in that court of etiquette, in permitting the affianced +lovers to have as private a conference as each seemed to desire. The +lady's manner was this morning most alarmingly gracious. Count Albert +was, however, struck by a difference in her air the moment she was alone +with him, from what it had been whilst in the presence of her friends. +All that he might without vanity have interpreted as marking a desire to +please, to show him favour, and to evince her approbation, at least, +of the choice her friends had made for her, vanished the moment they +withdrew. What her motives might be, Count Altenberg could not guess; +but the hope he now felt, that she was not really inclined to +consider him with partiality, rendered it more easy to enter into that +explanation, upon which he was, at all events, resolved. With all the +delicacy due to her sex, with all the deference due to her character, +and all the softenings by which politeness can soothe and conciliate +pride, he revealed to the Countess Christina the real state of his +affections: he told her the whole truth, concluding, by repeating the +assurance of his belief, that her charms and merit would be irresistible +to any heart that was disengaged. + +The lady heard him in astonishment: for this turn of fate she had been +wholly unprepared--the idea of his being attached to another had never +once presented itself to her imagination; she had never calculated on +the possibility that her alliance should be declined by any individual +of a family less than sovereign. She possessed, however, pride of +character superior to her pride of rank, and strength of mind suited to +the loftiness of her ambition. With dignity in her air and countenance, +after a pause of reflection, she replied, "Count Albert Altenberg is, I +find, equal to the high character I have heard of him: deserving of my +esteem and confidence, by that which can alone command esteem and merit +confidence--sincerity. His example has recalled me to my nobler +self, and he has, in this moment, rescued me from the labyrinth of a +diplomatist. Count Albert's sincerity I--little accustomed to imitation, +but proud to _follow_ in what is good and great--shall imitate. Know +then, sir, that my heart, like your own, is engaged: and that you may +be convinced I do not mock your ear with the semblance of confidence, +I shall, at whatever hazard to myself, trust to you my secret. My +affections have a high object--are fixed upon him, whose friend +and favourite Count Albert Altenberg deservedly is. I should scorn +myself--no throne upon earth could raise me in my own opinion, if I +could deceive or betray the man who has treated me with such sincerity." + +Relieved at once by this explanation, and admiring the manner in +which it was made, mingled joy and admiration were manifest in his +countenance; and the lady forgave him the joy, in consideration of the +tribute he paid to her superiority. Admiration was a tribute he was most +willing to yield at this moment, when released from that engagement to +love, which it had been impossible for him to fulfil. + +The Countess recalled his attention to her affairs and to his own. +Without his making any inquiry, she told him all that had been done, and +all that yet remained to be done, for the accomplishment of her hopes: +she had been assured, she said, by one now in the favour and private +confidence of the hereditary prince, that his inclination for her +was--painfully and with struggles, which, in her eyes, made his royal +heart worthy her conquest--suppressed by a sense of honour to his +friend. + +"This conflict would now cease," Count Albert said. "It should be +his immediate care to relieve his Prince from all difficulty on his +account." + +"By what means?" the Countess asked. + +"Simply by informing him of the truth--as far as I am concerned. Your +secret, madam, is safe--your confidence sacred. Of all that concerns +myself--my own attachment, and the resignation of any pretensions that +might interfere with his, he shall immediately be acquainted with the +whole truth." + +The Countess coloured, and repeating the words, "_the whole truth_," +looked disconcerted, and in great perplexity replied, that Count +Albert's speaking to the Prince directly--his immediate resignation +of his pretensions--would, perhaps, defeat her plans. This was not the +course she had intended to pursue--far from that which M. de Tourville +had pointed out. After some moments' reflection, she said, "I abide by +the truth--speak to the prince--be it so: I trust to your honour and +discretion to speak to him in such terms as not to implicate me, to +commit my delicacy, or to derogate from my dignity. We shall see then +whether he loves me as I desire to be loved. If he does, he will free +me, at once, from all difficulty with my friends, for he will speak _en +prince_--and not speak in vain; if he loves me not, I need not tell you, +sir, that you are equally free. My friends shall be convinced that I +will never be the bride of any other man." + +After the explanation with the Lady Christina, Count Albert lost no +time; he went instantly to the palace. In his way thither, he was met +by one of the pages, who told him the Prince desired to see him +immediately. He found the Prince alone. Advancing to meet him, with +great effort in his manner to command his emotion, the Prince said, "I +have sent for you, Count Albert, to give you a proof that the friendship +of Princes is not, in every instance, so vain a thing as it is commonly +believed to be. Mine for you has withstood strong temptation:--you come +from the Countess Christina, I believe, and can measure, better than +any one, the force of that temptation. Know, that in your absence it +has been my misfortune to become passionately enamoured of your destined +bride; but I have never, either by word or look, directly or indirectly, +infringed on what I felt to be due to your friendship and to my own +honour. Never did I give her the slightest intimation of my passion, +never attempted to take any of the advantages which my situation might +be supposed to give." + +Count Albert had just received the most convincing testimony +corroborating these assertions--he was going to express his sense of the +conduct of his Prince, and to explain his own situation, but the Prince +went on speaking with the eagerness of one who fears his own resolution, +who has to say something which he dreads that he should not be able to +resume or finish, if his feelings should meet with any interruption. + +"And now let me, as your friend and prince, congratulate you, Count +Albert, on your happiness; and, with the same sincerity, I request that +your marriage may not be delayed, and that you will take your bride +immediately away from my father's court. Time will, I hope, render her +presence less dangerous; time will, I hope, enable me to enjoy your +society in safety; and when it shall become my duty to govern this +state, I shall hope for the assistance of your talents and integrity, +and shall have deserved, in some degree, your attachment." + +The Count, in the strongest manner, expressed his gratitude to his +Prince for these proofs of his regard, given under circumstances the +most trying to the human heart. He felt, at this instant, exquisite +pleasure in revealing to his highness the truth, in showing him that the +sacrifice he had so honourably, so generously determined to make, was +not requisite, that their affections were fixed on different objects, +that before Count Albert had any idea of the prince's attachment to the +Lady Christina, it had been his ardent wish, his determination, at all +hazards, to break off engagements which he could not fulfil. + +The Prince was in rapturous joy--all his ease of manner towards his +friend returned instantly, his affection and confidence flowed in full +tide. Proud of himself, and happy in the sense of the imminent danger +from which he had escaped, he now described the late conflicts his heart +had endured with the eloquence of self-complacency, and with that sense +of relief which is felt in speaking on the most interesting of all +subjects to a faithful friend from whom a secret has been painfully +concealed. The Prince now threw open every thought, every feeling of +his mind. Count Altenberg rose higher than ever in his favour: not +the temporary favourite of the moment--the companion of pleasures--the +flatterer of present passion or caprice; but the friend in whom there is +certainty of sympathy, and security of counsel. The Prince, confiding in +Count Albert's zeal and superior powers, now took advice from him, and +made a confidant no longer of M. de Tourville. The very means which that +intriguing courtier had taken to undermine the Count thus eventually +proved the cause of establishing more firmly his credit. The plain +sincerity of the Count, and the generous magnanimity of the lady, at +once disconcerted and destroyed the artful plan of the diplomatist. M. +de Tourville's disappointment when he heard from the Countess Christina +the result of her interview with Count Albert, and the reproaches which +in that moment of vexation he could not refrain from uttering against +the lady for having departed from their plan, and having trusted to the +Count, unveiled to her the meanness of his character and the baseness of +his designs. She plainly saw that his object had been not to assist +her love, but to gratify his own hate: not merely to advance his own +fortune--that, she knew, must be the first object of every courtier--but +"to rise upon the ruins of another's fame;" and this, she determined, +should never be accomplished by her assistance, or with her connivance. +She put Count Albert on his guard against this insidious enemy. + +The Count, grateful to the lady, yet biassed neither by hope of her +future favour nor by present desire to please, firm in honour and +loyalty to the Prince who asked his counsel, carefully studied the +character of the Countess Christina, to determine whether she possessed +the qualities fit for the high station to which love was impatient that +she should be elevated. When he was convinced that her character was +such as was requisite to ensure the private happiness of the prince, to +excite him to the attainment of true glory--then, and not till then, he +decidedly advised the marriage, and zealously offered any assistance in +his power to promote the union. The hereditary Prince about this time +became, by the death of his father, sole master of his actions; but it +was not prudent to begin his government with an act in open defiance of +the prejudices or customs of his country. By these customs, he could not +marry any woman under the rank of a Princess; and the Emperor had been +known to refuse conferring this rank, even on favourites of powerful +potentates, by whom he had been in the most urgent manner solicited. +Count Albert Altenberg stood high in the esteem of the Emperor, at whose +court he had spent some time; and his prince now commissioned him to go +to Vienna, and endeavour to move the Emperor to concede this point in +his favour. This embassy was a new and terrible delay to the Count's +anxious desire of returning to England. But he had offered his services, +and he gave them generously. He repaired to Vienna, and persevering +through many difficulties, at length succeeded in obtaining for the +Countess the rank of Princess. The attachment of the Prince was then +publicly declared--the marriage was solemnized--all approved of the +Prince's choice--all--except the envious, who never approve of the +happy. Count Albert received, both from the Prince and Princess, the +highest marks of esteem and favour. M. de Tourville, detected and +despised, retired from court in disgrace and in despair. + +Immediately after his marriage, the Prince declared his intention of +appointing Count Albert Altenberg his prime minister; but before he +entered on the duties of his office and the very moment that he could +be spared by his Prince, he asked and obtained permission to return to +England, to the lady on whom his affections were fixed. The old Count, +his father, satisfied with the turn which affairs had taken, and +gratified in his utmost ambition by seeing his son minister of state, +now willingly permitted him to follow his own inclination in the choice +of a wife. "And," concluded Count Albert, "my father rejoices that my +heart is devoted to an Englishwoman: having himself married an English +lady, he knows, from experience, how to appreciate the domestic merits +of the ladies of England; he is prepossessed in their favour. He agrees, +indeed, with foreigners of every nation, who have had opportunities of +judging, and who all allow that--next to their own countrywomen--the +English are the most charming and the most amiable women in the world." + +When the Count had finished, and had pronounced this panegyric of a +nation, while he thought only of an individual, he paused, anxious to +know what effect his narrative had produced on Mr. and Mrs. Percy. + +He was gratified both by their words and looks, which gave him full +assurance of their entire satisfaction. + +"And since he had done them the honour of appealing to their opinion, +they might be permitted to add their complete approbation of every part +of his conduct, in the difficult circumstances in which he had been +placed. They were fully sensible of the high honour that such a man as +Count Altenberg conferred on their daughter by his preference. As to the +rest, they must refer him to Caroline herself." Mr. Percy said with a +grave voice, but with a smile from which the Count augured well, "that +even for the most advantageous and, in his opinion, desirable connexion, +he would not influence his daughter's inclination.--Caroline must +decide." + +The Count, with all the persuasive tenderness and energy of truth and +love, pleaded his own cause, and was heard by Caroline with a modest, +dignified, ingenuous sensibility, which increased his passion. Her +partiality was now heightened by her conviction of the strength and +steadiness of his attachment; but whilst she acknowledged how high he +stood in her esteem, and did not attempt to conceal the impression +he had made on her heart, yet he saw that she dreaded to yield to the +passion which must at last require from her the sacrifice of her home, +country, friends, and parents. As long as the idea of being united to +him was faint and distant, so was the fear of the sacrifices that +union might demand; but now, the hope, the fear, the certainty, at once +pressed on her heart with the most agitating urgency. The Count as far +as possible relieved her mind by the assurance, that though his duty +to his Prince and his father, that though all his private and public +connexions and interests obliged him to reside some time in Germany, +yet that he could occasionally visit England, that he should seize every +opportunity of visiting a country he preferred to all others; and, for +his own sake, he should cultivate the friendship of her family, as each +individual was in different ways suited to his taste and stood high in +his esteem. + +Caroline listened with fond anxiety to these hopes: she was willing +to believe in promises which she was convinced were made with entire +sincerity; and when her affections had been wrought to this point, when +her resolution was once determined, she never afterwards tormented the +man to whom she was attached, with wavering doubts and scruples. + +Count Altenberg's promise to his prince obliged him to return at an +appointed time. Caroline wished that time had been more distant; she +would have delighted in spending the spring-time of love in the midst +of those who had formed till now all the happiness of her life--with +her parents, to whom she owed every thing, to whom her gratitude was +as warm, as strong, as her affection--with her beloved sister, who had +sympathized so tenderly in all her sorrow, and who ardently wished to +have some time allowed to enjoy her happiness. Caroline felt all this, +but she felt too deeply to display feeling: sensible of what the duty +and honour of Count Altenberg demanded, she asked for no delay. + +The first letters that were written to announce her intended marriage +were to Mrs. Hungerford and to Lady Jane Granville. And it may be +recorded as a fact rather unusual, that Caroline was so fortunate as to +satisfy all her friends: not to offend one of her relations, by telling +any too soon, or too late, of her intentions. In fact, she made no +secret, no mystery, where none was required by good sense or propriety. +Nor did she communicate it under a strict injunction of secrecy to +twenty friends, who were afterwards each to be angry with the other for +having, or not having, told that of which they were forbidden to speak. +The order of precedency in Caroline's confidential communications was +approved of even by all the parties concerned. + +Mrs. Hungerford was at Pembroke with her nieces when she received +Caroline's letter: her answer was as follows: + +"MY DEAR CHILD, + +"I am ten years younger since I read your letter, therefore do not be +surprised at the quickness of my motions--I shall be with you at the +Hills, in town, or wherever you are, as soon as it is possible, after +you let me know when and where I can embrace you and our dear Count. At +the marriage of my niece, Lady Mary Barclay, your mother will remember +that I prayed to Heaven I might live to see my beloved Caroline united +to the man of her choice--I am grateful that this blessing, this +completion of all my earthly hopes and happiness, has been granted to +me. + +"M. ELIZABETH HUNGERFORD." + +The answer of Lady Jane Granville came next. + +"_Confidential_. + +"This is the last _confidential_ letter I shall ever be able to write +to you--for a married woman's letters, you know, or you will soon +know, become, like all the rest of her property, subject to her +husband--excepting always the secrets of which she was possessed before +marriage, which do not go into the common stock, if she be a woman of +honour--so I am safe with you, Caroline; and any erroneous opinion I +might have formed, or any hasty expressions I may have let drop, about a +certain Count, you will bury in oblivion, and never let me see you look +even as if you recollected to have heard them. + +"You were right, my dear, in that whole business--I was wrong; and all +I can say for myself is, that I was wrong with the best possible +intentions. I now congratulate you with as sincere joy, as if this +charming match had been made by my advice, under my _chaperonage_, and +by favour of that _patronage of fashion_, of which I know your father +thinks that both my _head_ and _heart_ are full; there he is only half +right, after all: so do not let him be too proud. I will not allow that +my heart is ever wrong, certainly not where you are concerned. + +"I am impatient, my dear Caroline, to see your Count Altenberg. I heard +him most highly spoken of yesterday by a Polish nobleman, whom I met at +dinner at the Duke of Greenwich's. Is it true, that the Count is to be +prime minister of the Prince of ----? the Duke of Greenwich asked me +this question, and I promised I would let his grace know from _the best +possible_ authority--but I did not _commit_ you. + +"And now, my dear, for my own interest. If you have really and cordially +forgiven me, for having so rashly said, upon a late occasion, that +I would never forgive you, prove to me your placability and your +sincerity--use your all-powerful influence to obtain for me a favour on +which I have set my heart. Will you prevail on all your house to come +up to town directly, and take possession of mine?--Count Altenberg, you +say, has business to transact with ministers: whilst this is going on, +and whilst the lawyers are settling preliminaries, where can you all be +better than with me? I hope I shall be able to make Mr. and Mrs. Percy +feel as much at home, in one hour's time, as I found myself the first +evening after my arrival at the Hills some years ago. + +"I know the Hungerfords will press you to go to them, and Alfred and +Mrs. A. Percy will plead _nearest of kin_--I can only throw myself upon +your generosity. The more inducements you have to go to other friends, +the more I shall feel gratified and obliged, if you favour me with this +proof of your preference and affection. Indulge me, my dear Caroline, +perhaps for the last time, with your company, of which, believe me, I +have, though a woman of the world, sense and feeling sufficient fully to +appreciate the value. Yours (at all events), ever and affectionately, + +"J. GRANVILLE. + +"_Spring Gardens--Tuesday_. + +"P. S.--I hope your father is of my opinion, that weddings, +especially among persona of a certain rank of life, ought always to be +_public_,--attended by the friends and connexions of the families, and +conducted with something of the good old aristocratic formality, pomp, +and state, of former times." + +Lady Jane Granville's polite and urgent request was granted. Caroline +and all her family had pleasure in showing Lady Jane that they felt +grateful for her kindness. + +Mr. Temple obtained permission from Lord Oldborough to accompany the +Percys to town; and it was settled that Rosamond and Caroline should be +married on the same day. + +But the morning after their arrival in London, Mr. Temple appeared +with a countenance very unlike that which had been seen the night +before--Hope and joy had fled.--All pale and in consternation!--Rosamond +was ready to die with terror. She was relieved when he declared that the +evil related only to his fortune. The place that had been promised to +him was given; indeed--the word of promise was kept to the ear--but by +some management, either of Lord Skreene's or Lord Skrimpshire's, the +place had been _saddled_ with a pension to the widow of the gentleman +by whom it had been previously held, and the amount of this pension was +such as to reduce the profits of the place to an annual income by +no means sufficient to secure independence, or even competence, to a +married man. Mr. Temple knew that when the facts were stated to Lord +Oldborough, his lordship would, by his representations to the highest +authority, obtain redress; but the secretary was unwilling to implicate +him in this disagreeable affair, unwilling to trouble his tranquillity +again with court intrigues, especially, as Mr. Temple said, where his +own personal interest alone was concerned--at any rate this business +must delay his marriage. Count Altenberg could not possibly defer the +day named for his wedding--despatches from the continent pressed the +absolute necessity of his return. Revolutionary symptoms had again +appeared in the city--his prince could not dispense with his services. +His honour was at stake. + +Mr. Temple did not attempt or pretend to bear his disappointment like +a philosopher: he bore it like a lover, that is to say, very ill. +Rosamond, poor Rosamond, rallied him with as much gaiety as she could +command with a very heavy heart. + +After a little time for reflection, her good sense, which, when called +upon to act, never failed to guide her conduct, induced her to exert +decisive influence to prevent Mr. Temple from breaking out into violent +complaints against those in power, by whom he had been ill-treated. + +The idea of being married on the same day with her sister, she said, +after all, was a mere childish fancy, for which no solid advantage +should be hazarded; therefore she conjured her lover, not in heat of +passion to precipitate things, but patiently to wait--to return and +apply to Lord Oldborough, if he should find that the representations +he had already made to Lord Skrimpshire failed of effect. With much +reluctance, Mr. Temple submitted to postpone the day promised for his +marriage; but both Mr. and Mrs. Percy so strongly supported Rosamond's +arguments, that he was compelled to be prudent. Rosamond now thought +only of her sister's approaching nuptials. Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. +Mortimer arrived in town, and all Mr. and Mrs. Percy's troops of friends +gathered round them for this joyful occasion. + +Lady Jane Granville was peculiarly happy in finding that Mr. Percy +agreed with her in opinion that marriages ought to be publicly +solemnized; and rejoiced that, when Caroline should be led to the altar +by the man of her choice, she would feel that choice sanctioned by +the approbation of her assembled family and friends. Lady Jane justly +observed, that it was advantageous to mark as strongly as possible the +difference between marriages with consent of friends, and clandestine +unions, which from their very nature must always be as private as +possible. + +If some little love of show, and some aristocratic pride of family, +mixed with Lady Jane's good sense upon this as upon most other +occasions, the truly philosophic will be inclined to pardon her; for +they best know how much of all the principles which form the strength +and happiness of society, depends upon mixed motives. + +Mr. and Mrs. Percy, grateful to Lady Jane, and willing to indulge her +affection in its own way, gratified her with permission to arrange the +whole ceremonial of the wedding. + +Now that Rosamond's marriage was postponed, she claimed first right to +be her sister's bridemaid; Lady Florence Pembroke, Mrs. Hungerford's +niece, had made her request, and obtained Caroline's promise, to be the +second; and these were all that Caroline desired to have: but Lady Jane +Granville evidently wished for the honour and glory of Lady Frances +Arlington for a third, because she was niece to the Duke of Greenwich; +and besides, as Lady Jane pleaded, "though a little selfish, she really +would have been generous, if she had not been spoiled: to be sure, +she cared in general for no one but herself; yet she absolutely showed +particular interest about Caroline. _Besides_, her ladyship had set her +heart upon the matter, and never would forgive a disappointment of a +fancy." Her ladyship's request was granted. Further than this affair of +the three bridemaids we know not--there is no record concerning who +were the bride-men. But before we come to the wedding-day, we think it +necessary to mention, for the satisfaction of the prudent part of the +world, that the settlements were duly signed, sealed, and delivered, in +the presence of proper witnesses. + +At the moment of recording this fact, we are well aware that as much as +we shall gain in the esteem of the old, we shall lose in the opinion of +the young. We must therefore be satisfied with the nod of approbation +from parents, and must endure the smile of scorn from lovers. We know +that + + "Jointure, portion, gold, estate, + Houses, household-stuff, or land, + The low conveniences of fate, + Are Greek, no lovers understand." + +We regret that we cannot gratify some of our courteous readers with a +detailed account of the marriage of Caroline and Count Altenberg, with a +description of the wedding-dresses, or a list of the company, who, after +the ceremony, partook of an elegant collation at Lady Jane Granville's +house in Spring-Gardens. We lament that we cannot even furnish a +paragraph in honour of Count Altenberg's equipage. + +After all their other friends had made their congratulations, had taken +leave of Caroline, and had departed, Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. Mortimer +still lingered. + +"I know, my love," said Mrs. Hungerford, "I ought to resign you, in +these last moments, to your parents, your brothers, your own Rosamond; +yet I have some excuse for my selfishness--they will see you again, it +is to be hoped, often--But I!--that is not in the course of nature: +the blessing I scarcely could have expected to live to enjoy has been +granted to me. And now that I have seen you united to one worthy of you, +one who knows your value, I am content--I am grateful. Farewell, again +and again, my beloved Caroline, may every--" + +Tears spoke the rest. Turning from Caroline, she leaned on Count +Altenberg's arm; as he conducted her to her carriage, "You are a happy +man, Count Altenberg," said she: "forgive me, if I am not able to +congratulate you as I ought--Daughter Mortimer, you know my heart--speak +for me, if you can." + +Count Altenberg was more touched by this strong affection for Caroline +than he could have been by any congratulatory compliments to himself. +After the departure of Mrs. Hungerford and Mrs. Mortimer, came the +separation so much dreaded by all the family, for which all stood +prepared. Despising and detesting the display of sensibility, they had +fortified themselves for this moment with all their resolution, and each +struggled to repress their own feelings. + +Count Altenberg had delayed till the last moment. It was now necessary +that they should set out. Caroline, flushed crimson to the very temples +one instant, and pale the next, commanded with the utmost effort her +emotion; Rosamond, unable to repress hers, clung to her sister weeping. +Caroline's lips quivered with a vain attempt to speak--she could only +embrace Rosamond repeatedly, and then her mother. Her father pressed her +to his bosom--blessed her--and then drawing her arm within his, led her +to her husband. + +As they passed through the hall, the faithful housekeeper, and the old +steward, who had come from the country to the marriage, pressed forward, +in hopes of a last look. Caroline stopped, and took leave of each. She +was able, though with difficulty, to speak, and she thanked them for all +the services and kindness she had received from them from childhood to +this hour: then her father led her to the carriage. + +"It is the order of nature, my dear child," said he; "we are fond but +not selfish parents; your happiness is gained by the sacrifice, and we +can part with you." + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +Some sage moralist has observed, that even in the accomplishment of our +most ardent wishes in this world, there is always some circumstance that +disappoints our expectations, or mixes somewhat of pain with the joy. +"This is perfectly true," thought Rosamond. "How often have I wished for +Caroline's marriage with Count Altenberg--and now she is married--really +married--and gone!" + +It had passed with the rapidity of a dream: the hurry of joy, the +congratulations--all, all was over; and in sad silence, Rosamond felt +the reality of her loss--by Rosamond doubly felt at this moment, when +all her own affairs were in great uncertainty. Mr. Temple was still +unable to obtain the performance of the promise which had been made him +of _remuneration_ and _competent provision_. He had gone through, +in compliance with the advice of his friends, the mortification of +reiterating vain memorials and applications to the Duke of Greenwich, +Lord Skrimpshire, Lord Skreene, and Mr. Secretary Cope. The only thing +which Mr. Temple refused to do, was to implicate Lord Oldborough, or to +disturb him on the subject. He had spent some weeks with his old master +in his retirement without once adverting to his own difficulties, still +hoping that on his return to town a promise would be fulfilled, which +Lord Skreene had given him, that "the affair should in his absence be +settled to his satisfaction." But on his return to town, his lordship +found means of evasion and delay, and threw the blame on others; the +course of memorials and representations was to be recommenced. Mr. +Temple's pride revolted, his love was in despair--and frequently, in +the bitterness of disappointment, he reiterated to his friend Alfred his +exclamations of regret and self-reproach, for having quitted, from pique +and impatience of spirit, a profession where his own perseverance and +exertions would infallibly have rendered him by this time independent. +Rosamond saw with sympathy and anguish the effect which these feelings +of self-reproach, and hope delayed, produced on Mr. Temple's spirits +and health. His sensibility, naturally quick, and rendered more acute by +disappointment, seemed now continually to draw from all characters and +events, and even from every book he opened, a moral against himself, +some new illustration or example, which convinced him more and more +of the folly of being a dependant on the great. He was just in this +repentant mood, when one morning, at Mrs. Alfred Percy's, Rosamond heard +him sigh deeply several times, as he was reading with great attention. +She could not forbear asking what it was that touched him so much. He +put the book into her hands, pointing to the following passage. "The +whole of this letter[1]," said he, "is applicable to me and excellent; +but this really seems as if it had been written for me or by me." + +[Footnote 1: Letter from Mr. Williams (secretary to Lord Chancellor +West) to Mrs. Williams.] + +She read, + +"I was a young man, and did not think that men were to die, or to be +turned out . . . What was to be done now?--No money, my former patron +in disgrace! friends that were in favour not able to serve me, or not +willing; that is, cold, timid, careful of themselves, and indifferent to +a man whose disappointments made him less agreeable . . . I languished +on for three long melancholy years, sometimes a little elated; a smile, +a kind hint, a downright promise, dealt out to me from those in whom I +had placed some silly hopes, now and then brought a little refreshment, +but that never lasted long; and to say nothing of the agony of being +reduced to talk of one's own misfortunes and one's wants, and that +basest and lowest of all conditions, the slavery of borrowing, to +support an idle useless being--my time, for those three years, +was unhappy beyond description. What would I have given then for a +profession! . . . any useful profession is infinitely better than a +thousand patrons." + +To this Rosamond entirely acceded, and admired the strong good sense +of the whole letter; but she observed to Mr. Temple, that it was very +unjust, not only to himself, but what was of much more consequence, +to _her_, to say that all this applied exactly to his case. "Did Mr. +Temple," she asked, "mean to assert that she could esteem a man who was +_an idle useless being_, a mere dependant on great men, a follower of +courts? Could such a man have recommended himself to her father? Could +such a man ever have been the chosen friend of her brother Alfred? + +"It was true," she acknowledged, "that this friend of her brother had +made one mistake in early life; but who is there that can say that he +has not in youth or age committed a single error? Mr. Temple had done +one silly thing, to be sure, in quarrelling with his profession; but he +had suffered, and had made amends for this afterwards, by persevering +application to literature. There he had obtained the success he +deserved. Gentlemen might sigh and shake their heads, but could +any gentleman deny this? Could it be denied that Mr. Temple had +distinguished himself in literature? Could any person deny that +a political pamphlet of his recommended him to the notice of Lord +Oldborough, one of the ablest statesmen in England, who made him his +secretary, and whose esteem and confidence he afterwards acquired by his +merit, and continued, in place and out, to enjoy?--Will any gentleman +deny this?" Rosamond added, that, "in defence of _her brother's friend_, +she could not help observing, that a man who had obtained the esteem of +some of the first persons of their day, who had filled an employment of +trust, that of secretary to a minister, with fidelity and credit, who +had published three celebrated political pamphlets, and two volumes +of moral and philosophical disquisitions, which, as she had heard the +bookseller say, were become _stock books_, could not deserve to be +called an _idle useless being_. To be born and die would not make all +his history--no, such a man would at least be secure of +honourable mention in the Biographia Britannica as a +writer--moral--political--metaphysical." + +But while Rosamond thus did her utmost to support the spirits of her +lover, her own began to fail; her vivacity was no longer natural: she +felt every day more and more the want of her sister's sympathy and +strength of mind. + +Letters from abroad gave no hope of Caroline's return--delay after delay +occurred. No sooner had quiet been restored to the country, than +Count Altenberg's father was taken ill, and his illness, after long +uncertainty, terminated fatally. + +After the death of his father, the Count was involved in a variety +of domestic business, which respect for the memory of his parent, and +affection for surviving relations, could not allow him to leave. When +all this had been arranged, and when all seemed preparing for their +return to England, just when Rosamond hoped that the very next letter +would announce the day when they would set out, the French declared +war, the French troops were actually in motion--invasion was hourly +expected--it was necessary to prepare for the defence of the country. +At such a moment the Count could not quit his country or his Prince. And +there was Caroline, in the midst of a country torn by civil war, and in +the midst of all the horrors of revolution. + +About this time, to increase the anxiety of the Percy family, they +learned that Godfrey was taken prisoner on his way home from the +West Indies. The transport, in which his division of the regiment had +embarked had been separated from her convoy by a gale of wind in the +night, and it was apprehended that she had been taken by the enemy. +Godfrey's family hoped for a moment that this might be a false alarm; +but after enduring the misery of reading contradictory paragraphs and +contests of the newspaper writers with each other for several successive +days, it was at last too clearly established and confirmed, by official +intelligence, that the transport was taken by a Dutch ship. + +In the midst of these accumulating causes of anxiety, trials of another +kind were preparing for this family, as if Fortune was determined to do +her utmost to ruin and humble those who had despised her worshippers, +struggled against her influence, and risen in the world in defiance of +her power. To explain the danger which now awaited them, we must return +to their old family enemy, Sir Robert Percy. Master of Percy-hall, and +of all that wealth could give, he could not enjoy his prosperity, but +was continually brooding on plans of avarice and malice. + +Since his marriage with Miss Falconer, Sir Robert Percy's establishment +had become so expensive as to fret his temper continually. His tenants +had had more and more reason to complain of their landlord, who, when +any of his farms were out of lease, raised his rents exorbitantly, to +make himself amends, as he said, for the extravagance of his wife. The +tenants, who had ever disliked him as the successor and enemy of their +_own_ good and beloved landlord, now could not and attempted not to +conceal their aversion. This renewed and increased the virulence of +his dislike to _our_ branch of the Percys, who, as he knew, were always +compared _with him and his_, and seemed to be for ever present to the +provoking memories of these tenants. + +Sir Robert was disappointed hitherto in the hope for which he married, +the hope of an heir, who should prevent the estate from returning to +those from whom it had been wrested by his arts. Envy at seeing the +rising and prosperous state of _those Percys_, who, in spite of their +loss of fortune, had made their way up again through all obstacles, +combined to increase his antipathy to his relations. His envy had been +exasperated by the marriage of Caroline to Count Altenberg, and by the +high reputation of her brother. He heard their praises till his soul +sickened; and he was determined to be their destruction. He found a +willing and able assistant in Sharpe the attorney, and they soon devised +a plan worthy of their conjoined malice. At the time when Sir Robert had +come into possession of Percy-hall, after the suit had been decided in +his favour, he had given up all claim to the rents which Mr. Percy had +received during the years which he had held the estate, and had accepted +in lieu of them the improvements which Mr. Percy had made on the +estate, and a considerable quantity of family plate and a collection +of pictures. But now Sir Robert wrote to Mr. Percy without adverting to +this agreement, and demanding from him the amount of all the rents which +he had received, deducting only a certain sum on his own valuation for +improvements. The plate and pictures, which he had left at Percy-hall, +Sir Robert said he was willing to take in lieu of the debt; but an +immense balance against Mr. Percy remained. In technical phrase, we +believe, he warned Mr. Percy that Sharpe his attorney had directions +to commence a suit against him for the _mesne rents_. The amount of the +claim was such as it was absolutely impossible that Mr. Percy could pay, +even by the sale of every thing he possessed in the world. If this claim +were established, his family would be reduced to beggary, he must +end his days in a prison, or fly his country, and take refuge in some +foreign land. To this last extremity Sir Robert hoped to reduce him. In +reply, however, to his insolent letter, he was surprised, by receiving +from Mr. Percy a calm and short reply, simply saying that his son Alfred +would take the proper steps to bring the affair to trial, and that he +must submit to the decision of the law, whatever that might be. Sir +Robert was mortified to the quick by finding that he could not extort +from his victim one concession or complaint, nor one intemperate +expression. + +But however calm and dignified was Mr. Percy's conduct, it could not +be without the greatest anxiety that he awaited the event of the trial +which was to decide his future fate and that of his whole family. + +The length of time which must elapse before the trial could come on was +dreadful. Suspense was the evil they found most difficult to endure. +Suspense may be easily borne by persons of an indolent character, who +never expect to rule their destiny by their own genius; but to those who +feel themselves possessed of energy and abilities to surmount obstacles +and to brave dangers, it is torture to remain passive--to feel that +prudence, virtue, genius avail them not--that while rapid ideas pass in +their imagination, time moves with an unaltered pace, and compels +them to wait, along with the herd of vulgar mortals, for knowledge of +futurity. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +What has become all this time of the Falconer family? + +Since the marriage of Miss Falconer with Sir Robert Percy, all +intercourse between the Falconers and our branch of the Percy family had +ceased; but one morning, when Alfred was alone, intently considering his +father's case, and the legal difficulties which threatened him, he was +surprised by a visit from Commissioner Falconer. The commissioner looked +thin, pale, and wretched. He began by condoling with Alfred on their +mutual family misfortunes. Alfred received this condolence with +politeness, but with a proud consciousness that, notwithstanding his +father's present difficulties, and the total loss of fortune with which +he was threatened, neither his father, nor any individual in his +family, would change places with any one of the Falconers; since nothing +dishonourable could be imputed to Mr. Percy, and since none of his +misfortunes had been occasioned by any imprudence of his own. + +A deep sigh from the commissioner, at the moment these thoughts were +passing in Alfred's mind, excited his compassion, for he perceived that +the same reflections had occurred to him. + +After taking an immoderate quantity of snuff, the commissioner went on, +and disclaimed, in strong terms, all knowledge of his son-in-law Sir +Robert's cruel conduct to his cousin. The commissioner said that Sir +Robert Percy had, since his marriage with Bell Falconer, behaved +very ill, and had made his wife show great ingratitude to her own +family--that in Mrs. Falconer's distress, when she and Georgiana +were most anxious to retire from town for a short time, and when Mrs. +Falconer had naturally looked to the house of her married daughter as a +sure asylum, the doors of Percy-hall had been actually shut against her; +Sir Robert declaring, that he would not be involved in the difficulties +and disgrace of a family who had taken him in to marry a girl without +any fortune. + +Alfred was perfectly convinced, both from the cordial hatred with which +the commissioner now spoke of his son-in-law, and from Mr. Falconer's +disposition, that he had nothing to do with the cruel measures which +Sir Robert had taken against his father. Commissioner Falconer was not +a malevolent, but a weak man--incapable of being a disinterested +friend--equally incapable of becoming a malicious enemy. The +commissioner now proceeded to his own affairs, and to the business of +his visit. He said that he had been disappointed in all his hopes from +the Greenwich party--that when _that sad business of Mrs. Falconer's +came out_, they had seized this as a pretence for _dropping_ him +altogether--that when they had, by Lord Oldborough's retreat from +office, obtained every thing they wanted, and had no more occasion for +assistance or information, they had shamefully forgotten, or disowned, +all their former promises to Cunningham. They had refused to accredit +him at the court of Denmark, refused even to defray the expenses of his +journey thither, which, in the style he had thought it necessary for an +ambassador to travel in, had been considerable. Upon the hopes held out, +he had taken a splendid house in Copenhagen, and had every day, for some +weeks, been in expectation of the arrival of his credentials. When it +was publicly known that another ambassador was appointed, Cunningham's +creditors became clamorous; he contrived to escape from Copenhagen in +the night, and was proceeding _incog._ in his journey homewards, when he +was stopped at one of the small frontier towns, and was there actually +detained in prison for his debts. + +The poor commissioner produced his son's letter, giving an account +of his detention, and stating that, unless the money he had raised in +Copenhagen was paid, there was no hope of his being liberated--he must +perish in a foreign jail. + +We spare the reader the just reproaches which the unhappy father, at +this moment, uttered against the son's duplicity. It was his fate, he +said, to be ruined by those for whom he had been labouring and planning, +night and day, for so many years. "And now," concluded Mr. Falconer, +"here am I, reduced to sell almost the last acre of my paternal +estate--I shall literally have nothing left but Falconer-court, and +my annuity!--Nothing!--But it must be done, ill as he has used me, and +impossible as it is, ever, even at this crisis, to get the truth from +him--I must pay the money: he is in jail, and cannot be liberated +without this sum. I have here, you see, under the hand of the chief +magistrate, sufficient proof--I will not, however, trouble you, my dear +sir, with showing more of these letters--only it is a comfort to me to +speak to one who will listen with some sympathy--Ah! sir, when out of +place!--out of favour!--selling one's estate!--how people change!--But I +am taking up your time. Since these lands are to be sold, the sooner the +better. Your father, you know, is trustee to my marriage-settlements, +and, I believe, his consent, his signature, will be necessary--will it +not?--I am no lawyer--I really am not clear what _is_ necessary--and my +solicitor, Mr. Sharpe, I have dismissed: perhaps you will allow me to +put the business into your hands?" + +Alfred undertook it, and kindly told the commissioner that if he would +send him his papers, he would, without putting him to any expense, look +them over carefully--have all the necessary releases drawn--and make his +title clear to any purchaser who should apply. + +The commissioner was full of gratitude for this friendly offer, and +immediately begged that he might leave his title-deeds. Accordingly +the servant was desired to bring in the box which he had left in the +carriage. The commissioner then rose to take leave, but Alfred begged he +would stay till he had written a list of the deeds, as he made it a rule +never to take charge of any papers, without giving a receipt for them. +The commissioner thought this "a superfluous delicacy between friends +and relatives;" but Alfred observed that relations would, perhaps, +oftener continue friends, if in matters of business, they took care +always to be as exact as if they were strangers. + +The commissioner looked at his watch--said he was in haste--he was going +to wait upon Lord Somebody, from whom, in spite of all his experience, +he expected something. + +"You will find a list of the deeds, I have a notion," said he, "in the +box, Mr. Alfred Percy, and you need only sign it--that will be quite +sufficient." + +"When I have compared the papers with the list, I will sign it," said +Alfred: "my clerk and I will do it as quickly as possible. Believe me, +you cannot be in greater haste than I am." + +The commissioner, secretly cursing Alfred's accuracy, and muttering +something of the necessity for his own punctuality, was obliged to +submit. He sat down--the clerk was sent for--the box was opened. +The list of the papers was, as Alfred found, drawn out by Buckhurst +Falconer; and the commissioner now recollected the time. "Just when poor +Buckhurst," said the father, with a sigh, "was arguing with me against +going into the church--at that time. I remember, he was desperately in +love with your sister Caroline." + +"Why, in truth," said Alfred, smiling, as he read over the scrawled +list, "this looks a little as if it were written by a man in +love--here's another reason for our comparing the papers and the list." + +"Well, well, I took it all upon trust--I am no lawyer--I never looked +at them--never opened the box, and am very sorry to be obliged to do it +now." + +The essential care, either of papers or estate, the commissioner had +evermore neglected, while he had all his life been castle-building, or +pursuing some phantom of fortune at court. Whilst Alfred was comparing +the papers and the list, the commissioner went on talking of the +marriage of Caroline with Count Altenberg, asking when they expected +them to return. It was possible that Count Altenberg might be moved to +make some remonstrance in favour of Cunningham; and a word or two from +him to the Duke of Greenwich would do the business. The commissioner +longed to hint this to Alfred, but he was so intent upon these bundles +of parchment, that till every one of them was counted, it would be in +vain to make that attempt: so the commissioner impatiently stood by, +while the clerk went on calling over the papers, and Alfred, in equal +strains, replying. "Thank Heaven!" said he to himself, "they have got to +the last bundle." + +"Bundle eighteen," cried the clerk. + +"Bundle eighteen," replied Alfred. "How many numbers does it contain?" + +"Six," said the clerk. + +"Six!--no, seven, if you please," said Alfred. + +"But six in the list, sir." + +"I will read them over," said Alfred. "No. 1. Deed of assignment to +Filmer Griffin, Esq. No. 2. Deed of mortgage to Margaret Simpson, widow. +No. 3. Deed of lease and release. No. 4. Lease for a year--" + +"No. 4. no such thing--stop, sir--Deed!" + +Alfred gave one look at the paper, and starting up, snatched it from the +hands of his clerk, with an exclamation of joy, signed the receipt for +the commissioner, put it into his hands, locked the box, and sat down to +write a letter, all with such rapidity that the commissioner was struck +with astonishment and curiosity. Notwithstanding all his impatience to +be punctual to his own engagement, he now stood fixed to the spot, +and at last began with "My dear Mr. Alfred Percy, may I ask what has +happened?" + +"My dear commissioner, I have found it--I have found it--the long-lost +deed, and I am writing to my father, to tell him. Excuse me--excuse me +if I am not able to explain farther at this moment." + +The commissioner understood it all too quickly. He saw how it had +happened through Buckhurst's carelessness. At the time Buckhurst had +been packing up these papers, some of Mr. Percy's had been lying on the +table--Buckhurst had been charged not to mix them with his father's; but +he was in love, and did not know what he was doing. + +The commissioner began three sentences, and left them all unfinished, +while Alfred did not hear one word of them: the first was an apology for +Buckhurst, the second a congratulation for his good cousin Percy, the +third was an exclamation that came from his heart. "Good Heavens! but +what will become of my daughter Bell and Sir Robert? I do not comprehend +quite, my dear sir." + +Perceiving that he was not heard by Alfred, the commissioner took up +his hat and departed, determining that he would inquire farther from Sir +Robert's solicitor concerning the probable consequences of the recovery +of this deed. + +Alfred had no sooner finished his joyful letter to his father than he +wrote to Sir Robert Percy, informing him of the recovery of the deed, +and letting him know that he was ready to show it to whomsoever Sir +Robert would send to his house to examine it. He made this offer to put +an end at once to all doubts. He trusted, he said, that when Sir Robert +should be satisfied of the existence and identity of the deed, he would +stop his present proceedings for the recovery of the _mesne rents_, and +that he would, without obliging his father to have farther recourse to +law, restore to him the Percy estate. + +To this letter no answer was received for some time. At length Mr. +Sharpe called on Alfred, and begged to see the deed. He was permitted +to examine it in Alfred's presence. He noted down the date, names of +the witnesses, and some other particulars, of which, he observed, it was +necessary he should inform Sir Robert, before he could be satisfied as +to the identity of the conveyance. Sharpe was particularly close and +guarded in his looks and words during this interview; would neither +admit nor deny that he was satisfied, and went away leaving nothing +certain, but that he would write to Sir Robert. Alfred thought he saw +that they meant to avoid giving an answer, in order to keep possession +some months longer, till another term. He took all the necessary steps +to bring the matter to trial immediately, without waiting for any answer +from Sir Robert. No letter came from him, but Alfred received from his +solicitor the following note: + +"Sir, + +"I am directed by Sir Robert Percy to acquaint you, in reply to yours of +the 20th instant, that conceiving his title to the Percy estate to be +no way affected by the instrument to which you allude therein, he cannot +withdraw his present suit for the _mesne rents_ that had been already +received, if you proceed in an ejectment for the recovery of the +aforesaid estate. + +"I am, sir, + +"Your humble servant, + +"A. Sharpe. + +"_Wednesday._" + +Alfred was surprised and alarmed by this letter. It had never occurred +to him as possible, that Sir Robert and his counsel would attempt to +stand a new trial in the face of this recovered deed; this was beyond +all he could have conceived even from their effrontery and villany. He +consulted Mr. Friend, who, after considering Sharpe's letter, could +not devise what defence they intended to make, as the deed, upon most +accurate examination, appeared duly executed, according to the provision +of the statute of frauds. Upon the whole, Mr. Friend was of opinion that +the letter was meant merely to alarm the plaintiffs, and to bring +them to offer or consent to a compromise. In this opinion Alfred was +confirmed the next day, by an interview with Sharpe, accidental on +Alfred's part, but designed and prepared by the solicitor, who watched +Alfred as he was coming out of the courts, and dogged him till he parted +from some gentlemen with whom he was walking--then joining him, he said, +in a voice which Mr. Allscrip might have envied for its power of setting +sense at defiance, "I am happy, Mr. Alfred Percy, to chance to see you +to-day; for, with a view to put an end to litigation and difficulties, I +had a few words to suggest--premising that I do not act or speak now, in +any wise, as or for Sir Robert Percy, or with reference to his being my +client, or as a solicitor in this cause, be it understood, but merely +and solely as one gentleman to another, upon honour--and not bringing +forward any idea to be taken advantage of hereafter, as tending to any +thing in the shape of an offer to compromise, which, in a legal point of +view, you know, sir, I could not be warranted to hazard for my client, +and of consequence, which I hereby declare, I do not in any degree +mean." + +"Would you be so good, Mr. Sharpe, to state at once what you do mean? +for I confess I do not, in any degree, understand you." + +"Why, then, sir, what I mean is, simply, and candidly, and frankly, +this: that if I could, without compromising the interest of my client, +which, as an honest man, I am bound not to do or appear to do, I should +wish to put an end to this litigation between relations; and though your +father thinks me his enemy, would convince him to the contrary, if +he would allow me, and could point out the means of shortening this +difference between relations, which has occasioned so much scandal; and +moreover, could devise an accommodation, which might be agreeable +to both parties, and save you a vast deal of trouble and vexation; +possession," added he, laughing, "being nine points of the law." + +Mr. Sharpe paused, as if hoping that something would now be said by +Alfred, that might direct him whether to advance or recede; but Alfred +only observed, that probably the end Mr. Sharpe proposed to himself by +speaking was to make himself understood, and that this desirable end he +had not yet attained. + +"Why, sir, in some cases, one cannot venture to make one's self +understood any way, but by inuendoes." + +"Then, good morning to you, sir--you and I can never understand one +another." + +"Pardon me, sir, unless you are in a hurry," cried Mr. Sharpe, catching +Alfred by the button, "which (when so large an estate, to which you +might eventually succeed, is in question) you are too much a man of +business to be--in one word, then, for I won't detain you another +moment, and I throw myself open, and trust to your honour--" + +"You do me honour." + +"Put a parallel case. You, plaintiff A----, I, defendant B----. I +should, if I were A----, but no way advising it, being B----, offer to +divide the whole property, the claim for the _mesne rents_ being wholly +given up; and that the offer would be accepted, I'd engage upon my +honour, supposing myself witnessing the transaction, only just as a +gentleman." + +"Impossible, sir," cried Alfred, with indignation. "Do you take me for a +fool? Do you think I would give up half my father's estate, knowing that +he has a right to the whole?" + +"Pardon me, sir--I only suggested an A. B. case. But one word more, +sir," cried Mr. Sharpe, holding Alfred, who was breaking from him, "for +your own--your father's interest: you see this thing quite in a wrong +point of view; when you talk of a few months' more or less delay of +getting possession, being all there is between us--depend upon it, if it +goes to trial you will never get possession." + +"Then, sir, if you think so, you are betraying the interest of your +client, in advising me not to let it go to trial." + +"Good God! sir: but that is between you and me only." + +"Pardon me, sir, it is between you and your conscience." + +"Oh! if that's all--my conscience is at ease, when I'm trying to prevent +the scandal of litigation between relations: therefore, just let me +mention to you for your private information, what I know Sir Robert +would not wish to come out before the trial." + +"Don't tell it to me, sir--I will not hear it," cried Alfred, breaking +from him, and walking on very fast. + +Faster still Sharpe pursued. "You'll remember, sir, at all events, that +what has been said is not to go further--you'll not forget." + +"I shall never forget that I am a man of honour, sir," said Alfred. + +Sharpe parted from him, muttering, "that if he lived to the day of +trial, he would repent this." + +"And if I live till the day of judgment, I shall never repent it," +thought Alfred. + +Now fully convinced that Sir Robert desired a compromise, and wanted +only to secure, while in possession, some portion of that property, +which he knew the law would ultimately force him to relinquish, Alfred +persevered in his course, relieved from the alarm into which he had at +first been thrown, when he learned that his opponents intended to make +a defence. Alfred felt assured that they would never let the matter +come to trial; but time passed on, and they still persisted. Many of +his brother lawyers were not only doubtful, but more inclined to despond +than to encourage him as to the event of the trial; several regretted +that he had not accepted of Mr. Sharpe's offered compromise. "Half the +estate certain, and his father's release from all difficulties, they +thought too good offers to have been rejected. He might, as Sharpe had +prophesied, have to repent his rejection of that proposal." + +Others observed, that though Mr. Alfred Percy was certainly a young man +of great talents, and had been successful at the bar, still he was a +young lawyer; and it was a bold and hazardous, not to say rash thing, +to take upon himself the conduct of a suit against such opponents as Mr. +Sharpe and Sir Robert Percy, practised in law, hardened in iniquity, and +now driven to desperation. + +Mr. Friend was the only man who stood steadily by Alfred, and never +wavered in his opinion. "Trust to truth and justice," said he; "you +did right not to compromise--be firm. If you fail, you will have +this consolation--you will have done all that man could do to deserve +success." + +The day of trial approached. Mr. Friend had hoped, till very late in the +business, that the object of their adversaries was only to intimidate, +and that they would never let it go to trial: now it was plain they +would. But on what grounds? Again and again Mr. Friend and Alfred +perused and reperused Sir John Percy's deed, and examined the opinions +of counsel of the first eminence. Both law and right appeared to be +clearly on their side; but it was not likely that their experienced +opponents should persist without having some strong resource. + +A dread silence was preserved by Sir Robert Percy and by Mr. Solicitor +Sharpe. They must have some deep design: what it could be, remained to +be discovered even till the day of trial. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +The day of trial arrived--Mr. Percy came up to town, and brought Mrs. +Percy and Rosamond with him to his son Alfred's, that they might all be +together, and hear as soon as possible their fate. + +The trial came on about three o'clock in the afternoon. The court was +uncommonly crowded. Mr. Percy, his son Erasmus, and all his friends, +and Sir Robert and his adherents, appeared on opposite sides of the +galleries. + +The excellent countenance and gentlemanlike demeanour of Mr. Percy were +contrasted with the dark, inauspicious physiognomy of Sir Robert, who +sat opposite to him, and who was never tranquil one second, but was +continually throwing notes to his counsel, beckoning or whispering to +his attorney--while convulsive twitches of face and head, snuff-taking, +and handkerchief spread frequently to conceal the expression of his +countenance, betrayed the malignant flurry of his spirits. + +Alfred conducted his father's cause in the most judicious and temperate +manner. An attempt had been made by Sir Robert to prejudice the public +against Mr. Percy, by representing him as the descendant of a younger +brother, who was endeavouring to dispossess the heir of the elder +branch of the family of that estate, which belonged to him by right of +inheritance. Alfred's fast care was to put the court and the jury in +full possession of the facts. He stated that "His father, Lewis Percy, +plaintiff in this cause, and Robert Percy, Bart. defendant, both +descended from Sir John Percy, who was their grandfather. Sir John +outlived both his sons, who left him two grandsons, Robert was the son +of his eldest, and Lewis of his youngest son. Sir John had two estates, +one of them paternal, which went in the ordinary course of descent +to the representative of the eldest son, being the present Sir Robert +Percy. Sir John's other estate, in Hampshire, which came to him by +his wife, he conveyed, a short time before his death, to his youngest +grandson, the present Lewis Percy, who had held undisturbed possession +of it for many years. But, in process of time, Sir Robert Percy ruined +himself by play, and having frequent intercourse with Sharpe, the +solicitor, upon some great emergency inquired whether it was not +possible to shake the title of his cousin Mr. Percy's estate. He +suggested that the conveyance might not be forthcoming; but Sir Robert +assured him that both his grandfather and the present Mr. Percy were men +of business, and that there was little likelihood either that the +deeds should be lost, or that there should be any flaw in the title. +Afterwards a fire broke out at Percy-hall, which consumed that wing of +the house in which were Mr. Percy's papers--the papers were all saved +except this deed of conveyance. Mr. Sharpe being accidentally apprized +of the loss, conveyed the intelligence to Sir Robert. He immediately +commenced a suit against his cousin, and had finally succeeded in +obtaining a verdict in his own favour, and possession of the Hampshire +estate. At the time when Mr. Percy delivered up possession and quitted +Percy-hall, in consideration of the extensive improvements which he +had made, and in consideration of his giving up to Sir Robert plate, +furniture, wine, horses, and equipages, Sir Robert had promised to +forego whatever claim he might have upon Mr. Percy for the rents which +he had received during the time he had held the estate; but, afterwards, +Sir Robert repented of having made this agreement, broke his promise, +and took out a writ against his cousin for the _mesne rents_. They +amounted to an immense sum, which Mr. Percy was utterly unable to pay, +and he could have had no hope of avoiding ruin, had the claim been by +law decided against him. By fortunate circumstances, however, he had, +while this cause was pending, recovered that lost conveyance, which +proved his right to the Hampshire estate. Of this he had apprized Sir +Robert, who had persisted, nevertheless, in holding possession, and in +his claim for the _mesne rents_. The present action was brought by Mr. +Percy in resistance of this unjust claim, and for the recovery of his +property." + +Not one word of invective, of eloquence, of ornament, or of any attempt +at pathos, did our barrister mix with this statement. It was his object +to put the jury and the court clearly in possession of facts, which, +unadorned, he knew would appear stronger than if encumbered by any +flowers of oratory. + +Having produced the deed, conveying the Hampshire estate to his father, +Alfred called evidence to prove the signature of Sir John Percy, and the +handwriting of the witnesses. He farther proved that this conveyance had +been formerly seen among his father's papers at Percy-hall, showed +it had been recently recovered from Mr. Falconer's box of papers, and +explained how it had been put there by mistake, and he supported this +fact by the evidence of Commissioner Falconer, father-in-law to the +defendant.--Alfred rested his cause on these proofs, and waited, anxious +to know what defence the defendant was prepared to make. + +To his astonishment and consternation, Sir Robert's counsel produced +another deed of Sir John Percy's, revoking the deed by which Sir John +had made over his Hampshire estate to his younger grandson, Mr. Percy; +it appearing by a clause in the original deed that a power for this +purpose had been therein reserved. This deed of revocation was handed to +the judge and to the jury, that it might be examined. The two deeds +were carefully compared. The nicest inspection could not discover any +difference in the signature or seal. When Mr. Friend examined them, he +was in dismay. The instrument appeared perfect. Whilst the jury were +occupied in this examination, Mr. Friend and Alfred had a moment to +consult together. + +"We are undone," whispered Mr. Friend, "if they establish this deed of +revocation--it sets us aside for ever." + +Neither Mr. Friend nor Alfred had any doubt of its being a forgery, +but those, who had plunged thus desperately in guilt, would probably be +provided with perjury sufficient to support their iniquity. + +"If we had been prepared!" said Mr. Friend: "but how could we be +prepared for such a stroke? Even now, if we had time, we could summon +witnesses who would discredit theirs, but--" + +"Do not despair," said Alfred: "still we have a chance that their own +witnesses may cross each other, or contradict themselves. Falsehood, +with all its caution, is seldom consistent." + +The trial proceeded. Alfred, in the midst of the fears and sighs of his +friends, and of the triumphant smiles and anticipating congratulations +of his enemies, continued to keep both his temper and his understanding +cool. His attention was fixed upon the evidence produced, regardless +of the various suggestions whispered or written to him by ignorant or +learned advisers. + +William Clerke, the only surviving witness to the deed of revocation +produced by Sir Robert, was the person on whose evidence this cause +principally rested. He was now summoned to appear, and room was made for +him. He was upwards of eighty years of age: he came slowly into court, +and stood supporting himself upon his staff, his head covered with thin +gray hairs, his countenance placid and smiling, and his whole appearance +so respectable, so venerable, as to prepossess, immediately, the jury +and the court in his favour. + +Alfred Percy could scarcely believe it possible, that such a man as this +could be the person suborned to support a forgery. After being sworn, he +was desired to sit down, which he did, bowing respectfully to the court. +Sir Robert Percy's counsel proceeded to examine him as to the points +they desired to establish. + +"Your name, sir, is William Clerke, is it not?" + +"My name is William Clerke," answered the old man, in a feeble voice. + +"Did you ever see this paper before?" showing him the deed. + +"I did--I was present when Sir John Percy signed it--he bid me witness +it, that is, write my name at the bottom, which I did, and then he said, +'Take notice, William Clerke, this is a deed, revoking the deed by which +I made over my Hampshire estate to my youngest grandson, Lewis Percy.'" + +The witness was going on, but the counsel interrupted. + +"You saw Sir John Percy sign this deed--you are sure of that?" + +"I am sure of that." + +"Is this Sir John Percy's signature?" + +"It is--the very same I saw him write; and here is my own name, that he +bid me put just there." + +"You can swear that this is your handwriting?" + +"I can--I do." + +"Do you recollect what time Sir John Percy signed this deed?" + +"Yes; about three or four days before his death." + +"Very well, that is all we want of you, Mr. Clerke." + +Alfred Percy desired that Clerke should be detained in court, that +he might cross-examine him. The defendants went on, produced their +evidence, examined all their witnesses, and established all they +desired. + +Then it came to Alfred's turn to cross-examine the witnesses that had +been produced by his adversary. When William Clerke re-appeared, Alfred +regarding him stedfastly, the old man's countenance changed a little; +but still he looked prepared to stand a cross-examination. In spite of +all his efforts, however, he trembled. + +"Oh! you are trembling on the brink of the grave!" said Alfred, +addressing him in a low, solemn tone: "pause, and reflect, whilst you +are allowed a moment's time. A few years must be all you have to spend +in this world. A few moments may take you to another, to appear before a +higher tribunal--before that Judge, who knows our hearts, who sees into +yours at this instant." + +The staff in the old man's hand shook violently. + +Sir Robert Percy's counsel interrupted--said that the witness should +not be intimidated, and appealed to the court. The judge was silent, +and Alfred proceeded, "You know that you are upon your oath--these are +possibly the last words you may ever utter--look that they be true. You +know that men have been struck dead whilst uttering falsehoods. You are +upon your oath--did you see Sir John Percy sign this deed?" + +The old man attempted in vain to articulate. + +"Give him time to recollect," cried the counsel on the opposite side: +"give him leave to see the writing now he has his spectacles." + +He looked at the writing twice--his head and hands shaking so that he +could not fix his spectacles. The question was repeated by the judge. +The old man grew pale as death. Sir Robert Percy, just opposite to him, +cleared his throat to catch the witness's attention, then darted at him +such a look as only he could give. + +"Did I see Sir John Percy sign this deed?" repeated William Clerke: +"yes, I did." + +"You hear, my lord, you hear," cried Sir Robert's counsel, "the witness +says he did--there is no occasion farther to intimidate this poor old +man. He is not used to speak before such an audience. There is no need +of eloquence--all we want is truth. The evidence is positive. My lord, +with your lordship's leave, I fancy we may dismiss him." + +They were going to hurry him away, but Alfred Percy said that, with the +permission of the court, he must cross-examine that witness farther, +as the whole event of the trial depended upon the degree of credit that +might be given to his evidence. + +By this time the old man had somewhat recovered himself; he saw that his +age and reverend appearance still prepossessed the jury in his favour, +and from their looks, and from the whispers near him, he learned that +his tremor and hesitation had not created any suspicion of guilt, +but had been attributed rather to the sensibility of virtue, and the +weakness of age. And, now that the momentary emotion which eloquence +had produced on his mind had subsided, he recollected the bribe that had +been promised to him. He was aware that he had already sworn what, if +he contradicted, might subject him to be prosecuted for perjury. He +now stood obstinately resolved to persevere in his iniquity. The first +falsehoods pronounced and believed, the next would be easy. + +"Your name is William Clerke, and this," said Alfred (pointing to the +witness's signature), "is your handwriting?" + +"Yes, I say it is." + +"You _can_ write then?" (putting a pen into his hand) "be so good as to +write a few words in the presence of the court." He took the pen, but +after making some fruitless attempts, replied, "I am too old to write--I +have not been able to write my name these many years--Indeed! sir, +indeed! you are too hard upon one like me. God knows," said he, +looking up to Heaven, some thought with feeling, some suspected with +hypocrisy--"God knows, sir, I speak the truth, and nothing but the +truth. Have you any more questions to put to me? I am ready to tell all +I know. What interest have I to conceal any thing?" continued he, his +voice gaining strength and confidence as he went on repeating the lesson +which he had been taught. + +"It was long, a long while ago," he said, "since it had all happened; +but thank Heaven, his memory had been spared him, and he remembered all +that had passed, the same as if it was but yesterday. He recollected how +Sir John looked, where he sat, what he said when he signed this deed; +and, moreover, he had often before heard of a dislike Sir John had taken +to his younger grandson--ay, to that young gentleman's father," looking +at Alfred; "and I was very sorry to hear it--very sorry there should be +any dispute in the family, for I loved them all," said he, wiping his +eyes--"ay, I loved 'em all, and all alike, from the time they were +in their cradles. I remember too, once, Sir John said to me, 'William +Clerke,' says he, 'you are a faithful lad'--for I was a lad once--" + +Alfred had judiciously allowed the witness to go on as far as he +pleased with his story, in the expectation that some exaggeration and +contradiction would appear; but the judge now interrupted the old man, +observing that this was nothing to the purpose--that he must not take up +the time of the court with idle tales, but that if he had any thing more +to give in evidence respecting the deed, he should relate it. + +The judge was thought to be severe; and the old man, after glancing his +eye on the jury, bowed with an air of resignation, and an appearance of +difficulty, which excited their compassion. + +"We may let him go now, my lord, may not we?" said Sir Robert Percy's +counsel. + +"With the permission of his lordship, I will ask one other question," +said Alfred. + +Now it should be observed, that after the first examination of this +witness, Alfred had heard him say to Mr. Sharpe, "They forgot to bring +out what I had to say about the seal." To which Sharpe had replied, +"Enough without it." Alfred had examined the seal, and had observed that +there was something underneath it--through a small hole in the parchment +he saw something between the parchment and the sealing-wax. + +"You were present, I think you say, Mr. Clerke, not only when this deed +was signed, but when it was sealed?" + +"I was, sir," cried Clerke, eager to bring out this part of the +evidence, as it had been prepared for him by Sir Robert; "I surely +was; and I remember it particularly, because of a little remarkable +circumstance: Sir John, God bless him!--I think I see him now--My lord, +under this seal," continued the old man, addressing himself to the +judge, and putting his shrivelled finger upon the seal, "under this very +seal Sir John put a sixpence--and he called upon me to observe him doing +it--for, my lord, it is my opinion, he thought then of what might come +to pass--he had a sort of a foreboding of this day. And now, my lord, +order them, if you please, to break the seal--break it before them +all,--and if there is not the sixpence under it, why this deed is not +Sir John's, and this is none of my writing, and," cried he, lifting up +his hands and eyes, "I am a liar, and perjured." + +There was a profound silence. The seal was broken. The sixpence +appeared. It was handed in triumph, by Sir Robert Percy's counsel, +to the jury and to the judge. There seemed to be no longer a doubt +remaining in the minds of the jury--and a murmur of congratulation among +the partisans of Sir Robert seemed to anticipate the verdict. + +"'Tis all over, I fear," whispered Friend to Alfred. "Alfred, you have +done all that could be done, but they have sworn through every thing--it +is over with us." + +"Not yet," said Alfred. Every eye turned upon him, some from pity, some +from curiosity, to see how he bore his defeat. At length, when there was +silence, he begged to be permitted to look at the sixpence. The judge +ordered that it should be shown to him. He held it to the light to +examine the date of the coin; he discovered a faint impression of a head +on the sixpence, and, upon closer inspection, he made out the date, and +showed clearly that the date of the coin was later than the date of the +deed: so that there was an absolute impossibility that this sixpence +could have been put under the seal of the deed by Sir John. + +The moment Alfred stated this fact, the counsel on the opposite side +took the sixpence, examined it, threw down his brief, and left the +court. People looked at each other in astonishment. The judge ordered +that William Clerke should be detained, that he might be prosecuted by +the crown for perjury. + +The old man fell back senseless. Mr. Sharpe and Sir Robert Percy pushed +their way together out of court, disclaimed by all who had till now +appeared as their friends. No farther evidence was offered, so that here +the trial closed. The judge gave a short, impressive charge to the jury, +who, without withdrawing, instantly gave their verdict in favour of +the plaintiff, Lewis Percy--a verdict that was received with loud +acclamations, which not even respect to the court could restrain. + +Mr. Percy and Alfred hastily shook hands with their friends, and in the +midst of universal applause hurried away to carry the good news to Mrs. +Percy and Rosamond, who were at Alfred's house, waiting to hear the +event of the trial. + +Neither Alfred nor Mr. Percy had occasion to speak--the moment Mrs. +Percy and Rosamond saw them they knew the event. + +"Yes," said Mr. Percy, "our fortune is restored; and doubly happy we +are, in having regained it, in a great measure, by the presence of mind +and ability of my son." + +His mother and sister embraced Alfred with tears of delight. For some +moments a spectator might have imagined that he beheld a family in deep +affliction. But soon through these tears appeared on the countenance of +each individual the radiance of joy, smiles of affection, tenderness, +gratitude, and every delightful benignant feeling of the human heart. + +"Has any body sent to Mrs. Hungerford and to Lady Jane Granville?" said +Mr. Percy. + +"Yes, yes, messengers were sent off the moment the verdict was given," +said Erasmus: "I took care of that." + +"It is a pity," said Rosamond, "that Caroline is not here at this +moment, and Godfrey." + +"It is best as it is," said Mrs. Percy: "we have that pleasure still in +store." + +"And now, my beloved children," said Mr. Percy, "after having returned +thanks to Providence, let me here, in the midst of all of you to whom I +owe so large a share of my happiness, sit down quietly for a few minutes +to enjoy 'the sober certainty of waking bliss.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +The day after the trial brought several happy letters to the Percys. +Rosamond called it the day of happy letters, and by that name it was +ever after recorded in the family. The first of these letters was from +Godfrey, as follows: + +"Dear father, mother, brothers, and sisters all! I hope you are not +under any anxiety about me, for here I am, safe and sound, and in +excellent quarters, at the house of Mynheers Grinderweld, Groensveld, +and Slidderschild, Amsterdam, the Dutch merchants who were shipwrecked +on our coast years ago! If it had happened yesterday, the thing could +not be fresher in their memories. My dear Rosamond, when we laughed at +their strange names, square figures, and formal advice to us, if ever +we should, by the changes and chances of human events, be reduced to +distress, we little thought that I, a prisoner, should literally come +to seek shelter at their door. And most hospitably have I been received. +National prejudices, which I early acquired, I don't know how, against +the Dutch, made me fancy that a Dutchman could think only of himself, +and would give nothing for nothing: I can only say from experience, I +have been as hospitably treated in Amsterdam as ever I was in London. +These honest merchants have overwhelmed me with civilities and +substantial services, and still they seem to think they can never do +enough for me. I wish I may ever see them on English ground again. But +we have no Percy-hall to receive them in now; and as well as I remember +the Hills, we could not conveniently stow more than one at a time. Side +by side, as they stood after breakfast, I recollect, at Percy-hall, they +would completely fill up the parlour at the Hills. + +"I may well be in high spirits to-day; for these good people have just +been telling me, that the measures they have been taking to get my +exchange effected, have so far succeeded, they have reason to believe +that in a week, or a fortnight at farthest, I shall be under weigh for +England. + +"In the mean time, you will wonder perhaps how I got here; for I +perceive that I have subjected myself to Rosamond's old reproach of +never beginning my story at the beginning. My father used to say, half +the mistakes in human affairs arise from our _taking for granted_; but I +think I may take it for granted, that either from the newspapers or from +Gascoigne, who must be in England by this time, you have learned that +the transport I was on board, with my division of the regiment, parted +convoy in the storm of the 18th, in the night, and at daybreak fell in +with two Dutchmen. Our brave boys fought as Englishmen always do; but +all that is over now, so it does not signify prosing about it. Two to +one was too much--we were captured. I had not been five minutes on +the Dutchman's deck, when I observed one of the sailors eyeing me very +attentively. Presently he came up and asked if my name was not Percy, +and if I did not recollect to have seen him before? He put me in mind of +the shipwreck, and told me he was one of the sailors who were harboured +in one of my father's outhouses whilst they were repairing the wreck. +I asked him what had become of the drunken carpenter, and told him the +disaster that ensued in consequence of that rascal's carelessness. My +sailor was excessively shocked at the account of the fire at Percy-hall: +he thumped his breast till I thought he would have broken his +breast-bone; and after relieving his mind by cursing and swearing in +high Dutch, low Dutch, and English, against the drunken carpenter, he +told me there was no use in saying any more, for that he had punished +himself.--He was found dead one morning behind a barrel, from which in +the night he had been drinking spirits surreptitiously through a straw. +Pray tell this to old John, who used always to prophesy that this fellow +would come to no good: assure him, however, at the same time, that +all the Dutch sailors do not deserve his maledictions. Tell him, I can +answer for the poor fellow who recognized me, and who, during the whole +passage, never failed to show me and my fellow-prisoners every little +attention in his power. When we got to Amsterdam, it was he reminded +me of the Dutch merchants, told me their names, which, without his +assistance, I might have perished before I could ever have recollected, +and showed me the way to their house, and never rested till he saw me +well settled. + +"You will expect from me some account of this place. You need not expect +any, for just as I had got to this line in my letter appeared one who +has put all the lions of Amsterdam fairly out of my head--Mr. Gresham! +He has been for some weeks in the country, and has just returned. The +Dutch merchants, not knowing of his being acquainted with my family, +never mentioned him to me, nor me to him: so our surprise at meeting was +great. What pleasure it is in a foreign country, and to a poor prisoner, +to see any one from dear England, and one who knows our own friends! I +had never seen Mr. Gresham myself, but you have all by your letters made +me well acquainted with him. I like him prodigiously, to use a lady's +word (not yours, Rosamond). Letters from Mr. Henry were waiting for him +here; he has just opened them, and the first news he tells me is, that +Caroline is going to be married! Is it possible? Count Altenberg! The +last time I heard from you, you mentioned nothing of all this. Some of +your letters must have been lost. Pray write again immediately, and do +not take it for granted that I shall be at home before a letter reaches +me; but give me a full history of every thing up to the present moment. +Groensveld is sealing his letters for London, and must have mine now +or never. Adieu! Pray write fully: you cannot be too minute for a poor +prisoner. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"burning with curiosity, + +"GODFREY PERCY." + +A letter from Mr. Gresham to Mr. Henry farther informed them, that +Godfrey's exchange was actually effected, and that he had secured his +passage on board a vessel just ready to sail for England. + +Next came letters from Count Altenberg. Briefly, in the laconic style of +a man pressed at once by sudden events and strong feelings, he related +that at the siege of the city of ---- by the French, early in the +morning of the day on which it was expected that the enemy would attempt +to storm the place, his prince, while inspecting the fortifications, +was killed by a cannon-ball, on the very spot where the Count had been +standing but a moment before. All public affairs were changed in his +country by the death of the prince. His successor, of a weak character, +was willing to purchase present ease, and to secure his low pleasures, +at any price--ready to give up the honour of his country, and submit to +the conqueror--that he had been secretly intriguing with the enemy, +had been suspected, and this suspicion was confirmed by his dastardly +capitulation when the means of defence were in his power and the spirit +of his people eager for resistance. + +With indignation, heightened by grief, contrast, and despairing +patriotism, Count Altenberg had remonstrated in vain--had refused, as +minister, to put his signature to the capitulation--had been solicited +urgently to concede--offers of wealth and dignities pressed upon him: +these he rejected with scorn. Released from all his public engagements +by the death of the prince, and by the retiring of the princess from +court, Count Altenberg refused to act as minister under his successor; +and seeing that, under such a successor to the government, no means of +serving or saving the country remained, he at once determined to quit it +for ever: resolved to live in a free country, already his own, half by +birth and wholly by inclination, where he had property sufficient to +secure him independence, sufficient for his own wishes, and for those of +his beloved Caroline--a country where he could enjoy better than on any +other spot in the whole compass of the civilized world, the blessings of +real liberty and of domestic tranquillity and happiness. + +His decision made, it was promptly executed. He left to a friend the +transacting the sale of his German property, and Caroline concluded his +letter with + +"MY DEAR FRIENDS, + +"Passports are obtained, every thing ready. Early next week we set out +for England; by the first of next month we shall be at HOME." + +Then came a letter from Lord Oldborough. Some time previously to +the trial, surprised at neither seeing Mr. Temple nor hearing of his +marriage, his lordship had written to inquire what delayed his promised +return. Taking it for granted that he was married, his lordship in +the most polite manner begged that he would prevail upon his bride to +enliven the retirement of an old statesman by her sprightly company. As +the friend of her father he made this request, with a confidence in her +hereditary disposition to show him kindness. + +In reply to this letter, Mr. Temple told his friend and master what had +delayed his marriage, and why he had hitherto forborne to trouble him on +the subject. Lord Oldborough, astonished and indignant, uttered once and +but once contemptuous exclamations against the "inconceivable meanness +of Lord Skrimpshire," and the "infinitely small mind of his grace +of Greenwich;" then, without condescending to any communication with +inferior powers, his lordship applied directly to the highest authority. +The consequence was that a place double the value of that which had been +promised was given to Mr. Temple, and it was to announce his appointment +to it that occasioned the present letter from Lord Oldborough, enclosing +one from Mr. Secretary Cope, who "had it in command to assure his +lordship that the delay had arisen solely from the anxious desire of +his majesty's ministers to mark their respect for his lordship's +recommendation, and their sense of Mr. Temple's merit, by doing more +than had been originally proposed. An opportunity, for which they +had impatiently waited, had now put it into their power to evince the +sincerity of their intentions in a mode which they trusted would prove +to the entire satisfaction of his lordship." + +The greatest care was taken both in substance and manner to gratify +Lord Oldborough, whose loss had been felt, and whose value had, upon +comparison, increased in estimation. + +Rosamond was rewarded by seeing the happiness of the man she loved, and +hearing him declare that he owed it to her prudence. + +"Rosamond's prudence!--Whoever expected to hear this?" Mr. Percy +exclaimed. "And yet the praise is just. So, henceforward, none need ever +despair of grafting prudence upon generosity of disposition and vivacity +of temper." + +Mr. Temple obtained from Rosamond a promise to be his, as soon as her +sister Caroline and her brother should arrive. + +Lady Jane Granville, who felt the warmest interest in their prosperity, +was the first to whom they communicated all this joyful intelligence. +Her ladyship's horses had indeed reason to rue this day; for they did +more work this day than London horses ever accomplished before in the +same number of hours, not excepting even those of the merciless Mrs. +John Prevost; for Lady Jane found it necessary to drive about to her +thousand acquaintance to spread the news of the triumph and felicity of +the Percy family. + +In the midst of this tumult of joy, Mr. Percy wrote two letters: one was +to his faithful old steward, John Nelson, who deserved from his master +this mark of regard; the other was to Commissioner Falconer, to make him +some friendly offers of assistance in his own affairs, and to beg that, +through him, his daughter, the unhappy and deserted lady of Sir Robert +Percy, might be assured that neither Mr. Percy nor any of his family +wished to put her to inconvenience; and that far from being in haste to +return to Percy-hall, they particularly wished to wait in town for the +arrival of Caroline and Count Altenberg; and they therefore requested +that she would not hasten her removal, from any false idea of their +impatience. We said the deserted lady of Sir Robert Percy, for Sir +Robert had fled from the country. On quitting the court after the +trial, he took all the ready money he had previously collected from his +tenants, and set out for the continent, leaving a note for his wife, +apprizing her "that she would never see him more, and that she had +better return to her father and mother, as he had no means left to +support her extravagance." + +Commissioner Falconer was at this time at Falconer-court, where he had +been obliged to go to settle some business with his tenantry, +previously to the sale of his land for the redemption of Cunningham. The +Commissioner's answer to Mr. Percy's letter was as follows: + +"I cannot tell you, my dear sir, how much I was touched by the kindness +of your letter and conduct--so different from what I have met with +from others. I will not cloud your happiness--in which, believe me, I +heartily rejoice--by the melancholy detail of all my own sorrows and +disappointments; but only answer briefly to your friendly inquiries +respecting my affairs. + +"And first, for my unfortunate married daughter, who has been in +this terrible manner returned upon our hands. She thanks you for your +indulgence, on which she will not encroach. Before you receive this, she +will have left Percy-hall. She is going to live with a Miss Clapham, +a great heiress, who wants a fashionable companion and chaperon. Mrs. +Falconer became acquainted with her at Tunbridge, and has devised +this plan for Arabella. I fear Bell's disposition will not suit such a +situation, but she has no other resource. + +"Mrs. Falconer and Georgiana have so _over-managed_ matters with respect +to Petcalf, that it has ended, as I long since feared it would, in his +breaking off. If Mrs. Falconer had taken my advice, Georgiana might now +be completely settled; instead of which she is fitting out for India. +She is going, to be sure, in good company; but in my opinion the expense +(which, Heaven knows, I can ill afford) will be thrown away like all the +rest--for Georgiana has been much worn by late hours, and though still +young, has, I fear, lost her bloom, and looks rather old for India. + +"I am truly obliged to you, my dear sir, for your friendly offer with +respect to Falconer-court, and have in consequence stopped the sale of +the furniture. I shall rejoice to have such a good tenant as Mr. +Temple. It is indeed much more agreeable to me to let than to sell. +The accommodation, as you propose, will put it in my power to release +Cunningham, which is my most pressing difficulty. + +"As you are the only person in the world now who takes an interest in my +affairs, or to whom I can safely unburden my mind, I must, though I +know complaint to be useless, relieve my heart by it for a moment. I can +safely say, that for the last ten years of my life I have never spent +a day _for myself_. I have been continually planning and toiling to +advance my family,--not an opportunity has been neglected; and yet from +this very family springs all my unhappiness. Even Mrs. Falconer blames +me as the cause of that _sad business_, which has disgraced us for +ever, and deprived us of all our friends--and has afforded an excuse for +breaking all promises. There are many, whom I will not name, but they +are persons now high in office, who have--I may venture to say it to +you--used me shamefully ill. + +"Many an honest tradesman and manufacturer, to say nothing of men of +talents in the liberal professions, I have seen in the course of the +last forty years make their own fortunes, and large fortunes, while I +have ended worse than I began--have literally been working all my life +for others, not only without reward, but without thanks. If I were to +begin life again, I certainly should follow your principles, my dear +sir, and depend more upon myself and less upon others, than I have +done--But now all is over. Let me assure you, that in the midst of my +own misfortunes, I rejoice in your prosperity, and in the esteem and +respect with which I hear you and yours spoken of by all. + +"Present my affectionate regards and congratulations to Mrs. Percy, and +to all your amiable and happy circle. Propriety and feeling for my poor +daughter, Lady Percy, must prevent my paying at present my personal +congratulations to you at Percy-hall; but I trust you will not the less +believe in the sincerity of my attachment. + +"I am, my dear sir, + +"Your obliged and faithful + +"Friend and servant, + +"T. FALCONER. + +"P.S.--I have just learnt that the little place I mentioned to Mr. +Alfred Percy, when we last met, is not disposed of. Lord Oldborough's +influence, as Mr. Temple well knows, is still all-powerful; and your +interest with his lordship, you must be sensible, is greater than that +of any other person living, without exception. A word from you would do +the business for me. It is but a trifle, which I should once have been +ashamed to ask: but it is now a matter of necessity." + +The event of the trial, and the restoration of the Percy family to their +property, were heard with transports of joy by the old tenantry. They +had not needed the effect of contrast, to make them love and feel the +value of their good landlord; but certainly Sir Robert Percy's tyranny, +and all that he had made them suffer for their obstinate fidelity to the +_old branch_, had heightened and fortified their attachment. It was +now their turn to glory in that honest obstinacy, and with the strong +English sense of justice, they triumphed in having the rightful owners +restored to their estate, and to the seat of their ancestors. + +As the Percy family crossed the well-known bridge at the end of the +village, those bells, which had sounded so mournfully, which had been +muffled when they quitted their home, now rang out a merry triumphant +peal--and it was rung by the hands of the very same persons who +had formerly given that proof of attachment to him in his +adversity.--Emotion as strong now seized Mr. Percy's heart. At the same +spot he jumped out of the carriage, and by the same path along which he +had hastened to stop the bell-ringers, lest they should ruin themselves +with Sir Robert, he now hastened to see and thank these honest, +courageous people. In passing through the village, which had been +freshly swept and garnished the people, whom, he remembered to have seen +in tears following the carriage at their departure, were now crowding to +their doors with faces bright with smiles. Hats that had never stirred, +and backs that had never bent for the _usurper_, were now eager with low +bows to mark their proud respect to the true man. There were no noisy +acclamations, for all were touched. The voices of the young children, +however, were heard, who, as their mothers held them up in their arms, +to see the landlord, of whom they had heard so much, offered their +little nosegays as the open carriage passed, and repeated blessings on +those, on whom from their cradles, they had heard blessings bestowed by +their parents. + +The old steward stood ready at the park-gate to open it for his master. +His master and the ladies put their hands out of the carriage to shake +hands with him, but he could not stand it. He just touched his master's +hand. Tears streamed down his face, and turning away without being able +to say one word, he hid himself in the porter's lodge. + +As they drove up to the house, they saw standing on the steps +waiting--and long had he been waiting there, for the first sound of the +carriage--Johnson, the butler, who had followed the family to the Hills, +and had served them in their fallen fortunes--Johnson was now himself. +Before the hall-door, wide open to receive them, he stood, with the +livery-servants in due order. + +Mrs. Harte, the good old housekeeper, had been sent down to prepare for +the reception of the family, and a world of trouble she had had; but +all was now right and proper, and she was as active and alert as the +youngest of her maidens could have been, in conducting the ladies to +their apartments, in showing all the old places, and doing what she +called the honours of the _re-installation_. She could have wished +to have vented a little of her indignation, and to have told how some +things had been left; but her better taste and judgment, and her sense +of what would be pleasing to her master and mistress, repressed all +recrimination. By the help of frequent recurrence to her snuff-box, in +difficulties great, together with much rubbing of her hands, and some +bridling of her head, she got through it, without naming those, who +should not be thought of, as she observed, on this joyful day. + +The happiness of the Percy family was completed by the return of +Godfrey, of Caroline, and Count Altenberg. Godfrey arrived just as his +family were settled at Percy-hall. After his long absence from his +home and country, he doubly enjoyed this scene of domestic prosperity. +Beloved as Rosamond was by rich and poor in the neighbourhood, and the +general favourite of her family, her approaching marriage spread new and +universal joy. It is impossible to give an idea of the congratulations, +and of the bustle of the various preparations, which were going on at +this time at Percy-hall, especially in the lower regions. Even Mrs. +Harte's all-regulating genius was insufficient for the exigencies of the +times. Indeed, her head and her heart were now at perpetual variance, +continually counteracting and contradicting each other. One moment +delighted with the joy and affection of the world below, she would come +up to boast of it to her mistress and her young ladies; the next moment +she would scold all the people for being out of their wits, and for not +minding or knowing a single thing they were doing, or ordered to do, +"no more than the babes in the wood;" then proving the next minute and +acknowledging that she was "_really quite as bad as themselves_. And no +wonder, for the thoughts of Miss Rosamond's marriage had turned her head +entirely upside down--for she had been at Miss Rosamond's christening, +held her by proxy, and considered her always as her particular +own child, and well she might, for a better, except, perhaps, Miss +Caroline--I should say _the countess_--never breathed." + +The making a _desert_ island for Miss Rosamond's wedding-dinner was +the object which had taken such forcible possession of Mrs. Harte's +imagination, that till it was accomplished it was in vain to hope that +any other could, in her eyes, appear in any kind of proportion. In the +midst of all the sentimental joy above stairs, and in the midst of +all the important business of settlements and lawyers, Mrs. Harte was +pursuing the settled purpose of her soul, constructing with infinite +care, as directed by her complete English Housekeeper, a _desert island +for a wedding_, in a deep china dish, with a mount in the middle, two +figures upon the mount, with crowns on their heads, a knot of rock-candy +at their feet, and gravel-walks of _shot comfits_, judiciously +intersecting in every direction their dominions. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +As soon as it was possible, after his return to Percy-hall, Mr. Percy +went to pay his respects to Lord Oldborough. He found this great +statesman happy in retirement, without any affectation of happiness. +There were proofs in every thing about him that his mind had unbent +itself agreeably; his powers had expanded upon different objects, +building, planting, improving the soil and the people. + +He had many tastes, which had long lain dormant, or rather which had +been held in subjugation by one tyrant passion. That passion vanquished, +the former tastes resumed their activity. The superior strength of his +character was shown in his never recurring to ambition. Its vigour +was displayed in the means by which he supplied himself, not only with +variety of occupation, but with variety of motive. Those, who best know +the human mind must be aware of the difficulty of supplying motive for +one accustomed to stimulus of so high a kind, as that to which Lord +Oldborough had been habituated. For one who had been at the head of +the government of a great nation, to make for himself objects in the +stillness and privacy of a country life, required no common talent and +energy of soul. The difficulty was increased to Lord Oldborough, for to +him the vast resource of a taste for literature was wanting. + +The biographer of Sir Robert Walpole tells us, that though he had not +forgotten his classical attainments, he had little taste for literary +occupations. Sir Robert once expressed his regret on this subject to +Mr. Fox, in the library at Houghton. "I wish," he said, "I took as much +delight in reading as you do; it would be the means of alleviating many +tedious hours in my present retirement. But, to my misfortune, I derive +no pleasure from such pursuits." + +Lord Oldborough felt, but never condescended to complain of that +deficiency of general literature, which was caused in him, partly by his +not having had time for the attainment, and partly by his having formed +too low an estimate of the influence and power of literature in the +political world. But he now took peculiar delight in recalling the +classical studies in which he had in his youth excelled; as Mr. Percy +sympathized with him in this taste, there was another point in which +they coalesced. Mr. Percy stayed with his old friend some days, for he +was anxious to give him this proof of attachment, and felt interested +in seeing his character develope itself in a new direction, displaying +fresh life and strength, and unexpected resource in circumstances, in +which statesmen of the most vigorous minds, and of the highest +spirit, have been seen to "droop and drowse," to sink into indolence, +sensuality, or the horrors of hypochondriacism and superstition. + +Lord Oldborough, on his first retiring to Clermont-park, had informed +Mr. Percy that he should wish to see him as soon as he had arranged +certain papers. He now reminded his lordship of it, and Lord Oldborough +put into his hands a sketch, which he had been drawing out, of the +principal transactions in which he had been engaged during his political +career, with copies of his letters to the first public characters of the +day in our own and in foreign countries. Even by those who had felt no +regard for the man, the letters of such a minister would have been read +with avidity; but Mr. Percy perused them with a stronger interest than +any which could be created by mere political or philosophical curiosity. +He read them with a pleasure which a generous mind takes in admiring +that which is good and great, with the delight which a true friend feels +in seeing proofs that justify all the esteem he had previously felt. He +saw in these original documents, in this history of Lord Oldborough's +political life, the most perfect consistency and integrity, the most +disinterested and enlightened patriotism. When Mr. Percy returned +the manuscript to his lordship, he spoke of the satisfaction he must +experience in looking back upon this record of a life spent in the +service of his country, and observed that he was not surprised that, +with such a solid source of self-approbation, such indefeasible claims +to the gratitude of his countrymen, and such well-earned fame, he should +be, as he appeared, happy in retirement. + +"I am happy, and, I believe, principally from the cause you have +mentioned," said Lord Oldborough, who had a mind too great for the +affectation of humility. "So far I am happy." + +"Yet," added he, after a considerable pause, "I have, I feel, a greater +capability of happiness, for which I have been prevented from making +any provision, partly by the course of life of which I made choice, and +partly by circumstances over which I had no control." + +He paused again; and, turning the conversation, spoke of his sister, an +elderly lady, who had come to pass some time with him. They had lived +separate almost all their lives; she in Scotland with her husband, a +Scottish nobleman, who having died about the time when Lord Oldborough +had resigned his ministerial situation, she had accepted his lordship's +invitation to visit him in his retirement. The early attachment he had +had for this sister seemed to revive in his mind when they met; and, +as if glad to have some object for his affections, they were poured out +upon her. Mr. Percy observed a tenderness in his manner and voice when +he spoke to her, a thousand little attentions, which no one would have +expected from the apparently stern Lord Oldborough, a man who had been +engrossed all his life by politics. + +On the morning of the last day which Mr. Percy meant to spend at +Clermont-park, his lordship, as they were sitting together in his study, +expressed more than common regret at the necessity for his friend's +departure, but said, "I have no right to detain you from your family." +Then, after a pause, he added, "Mr. Percy, you first gave me the idea +that a private life is the happiest." + +"My lord, in most cases I believe it is; but I never meant to assert +that a public life spent in noble exertion, and with the consciousness +of superior talent and utility, is not more desirable than the life +of any obscure individual can possibly be, even though he possess the +pleasure of domestic ease and tranquillity. There are men of eminent +abilities, capable of extraordinary exertions, inspired by exalted +patriotism. I believe, notwithstanding the corruption of so many has +weakened all faith in public virtue, I believe in the existence of such +men, men who devote themselves to the service of their country: when the +time for their relinquishing the toils of public life arrives, honour +and self-approbation follow them in retirement." + +"It is true, I am happy," repeated Lord Oldborough; "but to go on with +what I began to say to you yesterday--I feel that some addition might +be made to my happiness. The sense of having, to the best of my ability, +done my duty, is satisfactory. I do not require applause--I disdain +adulation--I have sustained my public life without sympathy--I could +seldom meet with it--where I could, I have enjoyed it--and could now +enjoy it--exquisitely--as you do, Mr. Percy--surrounded by a happy +family. Domestic life requires domestic pleasures--objects for the +affections." + +Mr. Percy felt the truth of this, and could answer only by suggesting +the idea of Mr. Temple, who was firmly and warmly attached to Lord +Oldborough, and for whom his lordship had a strong regard. + +"Mr. Temple, and my daughter Rosamond, whom your lordship honoured with +so kind an invitation, propose, I know, paying their respects to you +next week. Though I am her father, I may venture to say that Rosamond's +sprightliness is so mixed with solid information and good sense, that +her society will become agreeable to your lordship." + +"I shall rejoice to see Mrs. Temple here. As the daughter of one friend, +and the wife of another, she has a double claim to my regard. And (to +say nothing of hereditary genius or dispositions--in which you do not +believe, and I do), there can be no doubt that the society of a lady, +educated as your daughter has been, must suit my taste. The danger is, +that her society should become necessary to me. For Mr. Temple I already +feel a degree of affection, which I must repress, rather than indulge." + +"Repress!--Why so, my lord? You esteem him--you believe in the sincerity +of his attachment?" + +"I do." + +"Then why with stoicism--pardon me, my dear lord--why repress +affection?" + +"Lest I should become dependent for my daily happiness on one, whose +happiness is independent of mine--in some degree incompatible with mine. +Even if his society were given to me, his heart must be at his home, +and with his family. You see I am no proud stoic, but a man who dares +to look at life--the decline of life, such as it is--as it must be. +Different, Mr. Percy, in your situation--and in mine." + +The conversation was here interrupted by the arrival of a carriage. + +Lord Oldborough looked out of the window as it passed--then smiled, +and observed how altered the times were, since Clermont-park used to be +crowded with visitors and carriages--now the arrival of one is an event. + +The servant announced a foreign name, a Neapolitan abbe, who had come +over in the train of a new ambassador: he had just arrived in England, +and had letters from the Cardinal . . ., his uncle, which he was desired +to deliver into Lord Oldborough's own hand. The abbe was, it appeared, +personally a stranger to him, but there had been some ministerial +intercourse between his lordship and the cardinal. Lord Oldborough +received these political letters with an air of composure and +indifference which proved that he ceased to have an interest in the +game. + +"He supposed," he said, "that the abbe had been apprized that he was no +longer one of his majesty's ministers--that he had resigned his official +situation--had retired--and that he took no part whatever in public +affairs." + +The abbe replied that he had been apprized that Lord Oldborough +had retired from the public office; but his uncle, he added, with a +significant smile, was aware that Lord Oldborough's influence was as +great still as it had ever been, and greater than that of any ostensible +minister. + +This Lord Oldborough disclaimed--coolly observing that his influence, +whatever it might be, could not be known even to himself, as it was +never exerted; and that, as he had determined nevermore to interfere in +public business, he could not be of the least political service to +the cardinal. The Duke of Greenwich was now the person to whom on such +subjects all applications should be addressed. + +The abbe, however, repeated, that his instructions from the cardinal +were positive and peremptory, to deliver these letters into no hands but +those of Lord Oldborough--that in consequence of this strict injunction +he had come purposely to present them. He was instructed to request his +lordship would not put the letters into the hands of any secretary, but +would have the goodness to examine them himself, and give his counsel +how to proceed, and to whom they should, in case of his lordship's +declining to interfere, be addressed. + +"Mr. Percy!" said Lord Oldborough, recalling Mr. Percy, who had risen to +quit the room, "you will not leave me--Whatever you may wish to say, M. +l'abbe, may be said before this gentleman--my friend." + +His lordship then opened the packet, examined the letters--read and +re-directed some to the Duke of Greenwich, others to the king: the abbe, +all the time, descanting vehemently on Neapolitan politics--regretting +Lord Oldborough's resignation--adverting still to his lordship's +powerful influence--and pressing some point in negotiation, for which +his uncle, the cardinal, was most anxious. + +Among the letters, there was one which Lord Oldborough did not open: he +laid it on the table with the direction downwards, leaned his elbow upon +it, and sat as if calmly listening to the abbe; but Mr. Percy, knowing +his countenance, saw signs of extraordinary emotion, with difficulty +repressed. + +At length the gesticulating abbe finished, and waited his lordship's +instructions. + +They were given in few words. The letters re-directed to the king and +the Duke of Greenwich were returned to him. He thanked his lordship with +many Italian superlatives--declined his lordship's invitation to stay +till the next day at Clermont-park--said he was pressed in point of +time--that it was indispensably necessary for him to be in London, +to deliver these papers, as soon as possible. His eye glanced on the +unopened letter. + +"Private, sir," said Lord Oldborough, in a stern voice, without moving +his elbow from the paper: "whatever answer it may require, I shall have +the honour to transmit to you--for the cardinal." + +The abbe bowed low, left his address, and took leave. Lord Oldborough, +after attending him to the door, and seeing him depart, returned, took +out his watch, and said to Mr. Percy "Come to me, in my cabinet, in five +minutes." + +Seeing his sister on the walk approaching his house, he added, "Let none +follow me." + +When the five minutes were over, Mr. Percy went to Lord Oldborough's +cabinet--knocked--no answer--knocked again--louder--all was silent--he +entered--and saw Lord Oldborough seated, but in the attitude of one just +going to rise; he looked more like a statue than a living person: there +was a stiffness in his muscles, and over his face and hands a deathlike +colour. His eyes were fixed, and directed towards the door--but they +never moved when Mr. Percy entered, nor did Lord Oldborough stir at +his approach. From one hand, which hung over the arm of his chair, his +spectacles had dropped; his other hand grasped an open letter. + +"My dear lord!" cried Mr. Percy. + +He neither heard nor answered. Mr. Percy opened the window and let +down the blind. Then attempting to raise the hand which hung down, he +perceived it was fixed in all the rigidity of catalepsy. In hopes of +recalling his senses or his power of motion, Mr. Percy determined to try +to draw the letter from his grasp; the moment the letter was touched, +Lord Oldborough started--his eyes darting fiercely upon him. + +"Who dares? Who are you, sir?" cried he. + +"Your friend, Percy--my lord." + +Lord Oldborough pointed to a chair--Mr. Percy sat down. His lordship +recovered gradually from the species of trance into which he had fallen. +The cataleptic rigidity of his figure relaxed--the colour of life +returned--the body regained its functions--the soul resumed at once her +powers. Without seeming sensible of any interruption or intermission of +feeling or thought, Lord Oldborough went on speaking to Mr. Percy. + +"The letter which I now hold in my hand is from that Italian lady of +transcendent beauty, in whose company you once saw me when we first +met at Naples. She was of high rank--high endowments. I loved her; how +well--I need not--cannot say. We married secretly. I was induced--no +matter how--to suspect her fidelity--pass over these circumstances--I +cannot speak or think of them. We parted--I never saw her more. She +retired to a convent, and died shortly after: nor did I, till I received +this letter, written on her death-bed, know that she had given me a son. +The proofs that I wronged her are irresistible. Would that they had +been given to me when I could have repaired my injustice!--But her pride +prevented their being sent till the hour of her death." + +On the first reading of her letter, Lord Oldborough had been so struck +by the idea of the injustice he had done the mother, that he seemed +scarcely to advert to the idea of his having a son. Absorbed in the +past, he was at first insensible both to the present and the future. +Early associations, long dormant, were suddenly wakened; he was carried +back with irresistible force to the days of his youth, and something of +likeness in air and voice to the Lord Oldborough he had formerly +known appeared to Mr. Percy. As the tumult of passionate recollections +subsided, as this enthusiastic reminiscence faded, and the memory of the +past gave way to the sense of the present, Lord Oldborough resumed his +habitual look and manner. His thoughts turned upon his son, that unknown +being who belonged to him, who had claims upon him, who might form a +great addition to the happiness or misery of his life. He took up the +letter again, looked for the passage that related to his son, and +read it anxiously to himself, then to Mr. Percy--observing, "that the +directions were so vague, that it would be difficult to act upon them." + +"The boy was sent when three years old to England or Ireland, under the +care of an Irish priest, who delivered him to a merchant, recommended by +the Hamburg banker, &c." + +"I shall have difficulty in tracing this--great danger of being mistaken +or deceived," said Lord Oldborough, pausing with a look of anxiety. +"Would to God that I had means of knowing with certainty _where_, and +above all, _what_, he is, or that I had never heard of his existence!" + +"My lord, are there any more particulars?" inquired Mr. Percy, eagerly. + +Lord Oldborough continued to read, "Four hundred pounds of your English +money have been remitted to him annually, by means of these Hamburg +bankers. To them we must apply in the first instance," said Lord +Oldborough, "and I will write this moment." + +"I think, my lord, I can save you the trouble," said Mr. Percy: "I know +the man." + +Lord Oldborough put down his pen, and looked at Mr. Percy with +astonishment. + +"Yes, my lord, however extraordinary it may appear, I repeat it--I +believe I know your son; and if he be the man I imagine him to be, I +congratulate you--you have reason to rejoice." + +"The facts, my dear sir," cried Lord Oldborough: "do not raise my +hopes." + +Mr. Percy repeated all that he had heard from Godfrey of Mr. +Henry--related every circumstance from the first commencement of +them--the impertinence and insult to which the mystery that hung +over his birth had subjected him in the regiment--the quarrels in +the regiment--the goodness of Major Gascoigne--the gratitude of Mr. +Henry--the attachment between him and Godfrey--his selling out of the +regiment after Godfrey's ineffectual journey to London--his wishing to +go into a mercantile house--the letter which Godfrey then wrote, begging +his father to recommend Mr. Henry to Mr. Gresham, disclosing to Mr. +Percy, with Mr. Henry's permission, all that he knew of his birth. + +"I have that letter at home," said Mr. Percy: "your lordship shall see +it. I perfectly recollect the circumstances of Mr. Henry's having +been brought up in Ireland by a Dublin merchant, and having received +constantly a remittance in quarterly payments of four hundred pounds a +year, from a banker in Cork." + +"Did he inquire why, or from whom?" said Lord Oldborough; "and does he +know his mother?" + +"Certainly not: the answer to his first inquiries prevented all further +questions. He was told by the bankers that they had directions to stop +payment of the remittance if any questions were asked." + +Lord Oldborough listened with profound attention as Mr. Percy went on +with the history of Mr. Henry, relating all the circumstances of his +honourable conduct with respect to Miss Panton--his disinterestedness, +decision, and energy of affection. + +Lord Oldborough's emotion increased--he seemed to recognize some traits +of his own character. + +"I _hope_ this youth is my son," said his lordship, in a low suppressed +voice. + +"He deserves to be yours, my lord," said Mr. Percy. + +"To have a son might be the greatest of evils--to have _such_ a son must +be the greatest of blessings," said his lordship. He was lost in thought +for a moment, then exclaimed, "I must see the letter--I must see the +man." + +"My lord, he is at my house." + +Lord Oldborough started from his seat--"Let me see him instantly." + +"To-morrow, my lord," said Mr. Percy, in a calm tone, for it was +necessary to calm his impetuosity--"to-morrow. Mr. Henry could not be +brought here to-night without alarming him, or without betraying to him +the cause of our anxiety." + +"To-morrow, let it be--you are right, my dear friend. Let me see him +without his suspecting that I am any thing to him, or he to me--you will +let me have the letter to-night." + +"Certainly, my lord." + +Mr. Percy sympathized with his impatience, and gratified it with all the +celerity of a friend: the letter was sent that night to Lord Oldborough. +In questioning his sons more particularly concerning Mr. Henry, Mr. +Percy learnt from Erasmus a fresh and strong corroborating circumstance. +Dr. Percy had been lately attending Mr. Gresham's porter, O'Brien, the +Irishman; who had been so ill, that, imagining himself dying, he had +sent for a priest. Mr. Henry was standing by the poor fellow's bedside +when the priest arrived, who was so much struck by the sight of him, +that for some time his attention could scarcely be fixed on the sick +man. The priest, after he had performed his official duties, returned +to Mr. Henry, begged pardon for having looked at him with so much +earnestness, but said that Mr. Henry strongly reminded him of the +features of an Italian lady who had committed a child to his care many +years ago. This led to farther explanation, and upon comparing dates and +circumstances, Mr. Henry was convinced that this was the very priest +who had carried him over to Ireland--the priest recognized him to be the +child of whom he had taken charge; but farther, all was darkness. The +priest knew nothing more--not even the name of the lady from whom he had +received the child. He knew only that he had been handsomely rewarded by +the Dublin merchant, to whom he had delivered the boy--and he had heard +that this merchant had since become bankrupt, and had fled to America. +This promise of a discovery, and sudden stop to his hopes, had only +mortified poor Mr. Henry, and had irritated that curiosity which he had +endeavoured to lull to repose. + +Mr. Percy was careful, both for Mr. Henry's sake and for Lord +Oldborough's, not to excite hopes which might not ultimately be +accomplished. He took precautions to prevent him from suspecting any +thing extraordinary in the intended introduction to Lord Oldborough. + +There had been some dispute between the present minister and some +London merchant, about the terms of a loan which had been made by Lord +Oldborough--Mr. Gresham's house had some concern in this transaction; +and it was now settled between Mr. Percy and Lord Oldborough, that his +lordship should write to desire to see Mr. Henry, who, as Mr. Gresham's +partner, could give every necessary information. Mr. Henry accordingly +was summoned to Clermont-park, and accompanied Mr. Percy, with his mind +intent upon this business. + +Mr. Henry, in common with all who were capable of estimating a great +public character, had conceived high admiration for Lord Oldborough; he +had seen him only in public, and at a distance--and it was not without +awe that he now thought of being introduced to him, and of hearing and +speaking to him in private. + +Lord Oldborough, meanwhile, who had been satisfied by the perusal of +the letter, and by Mr. Percy's information, waited for his arrival with +extreme impatience. He was walking up and down his room, and looking +frequently at his watch, which he believed more than once to have +stopped. At length the door opened. + +"Mr. Percy, and Mr. Henry, my lord." + +Lord Oldborough's eye darted upon Henry. Struck instantly with the +resemblance to the mother, Lord Oldborough rushed forward, and clasping +him in his arms, exclaimed, "My son!" + +Tenderness, excessive tenderness, was in his look, voice, soul, as if he +wished to repair in a moment the injustice of years. + +"Yes," said Lord Oldborough, "_now_ I am happy--_now_, I also, Mr. +Percy, may be proud of a son--I too shall know the pleasures of domestic +life. Now I am happy!" repeated he, + + "And, pleased, resigned + To tender passions all his mighty mind." + +_March 26th, 1813._ + +END OF PATRONAGE. + + + + +COMIC DRAMAS. + + + + +LOVE AND LAW + +A DRAMA. + +IN THREE ACTS. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + MEN. + + MR. CARVER, of Bob's Fort . . _A Justice of the Peace in Ireland._ + OLD MATTHEW McBRIDE . . . . _A rich Farmer._ + PHILIP McBRIDE . . . . . _His Son._ + RANDAL ROONEY . . . . . _Son of the Widow Catherine Rooney + --a Lover of Honor McBride._ + MR. GERALD O'BLANEY . . . . _A Distiller._ + PATRICK COXE . . . . . _Clerk to Gerald O'Blaney._ + + WOMEN. + + MRS. CARVER . . . . . _Wife of Mr. Carver._ + MISS BLOOMSBURY . . . . . _A fine London Waiting-maid + of Mrs. Carver's._ + MRS. CATHERINE ROONEY, + _commonly called_ + CATTY ROONEY . . . . _A Widow--Mother of Randal Rooney._ + HONOR McBRIDE . . . . . . _Daughter of Matthew McBride, and + Sister of Philip McBride._ + + A Justice's Clerk--a Constable--Witnesses--and two Footmen. + + + + +LOVE AND LAW + + + + +ACT I. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_A Cottage.--A Table--Breakfast._ + +_HONOR McBRIDE, alone._ + +_Honor._ Phil!--(_calls_)--Phil, dear! come out. + +_Phil._--(_answers from within_) Wait till I draw on my boots! + +_Honor._ Oh, I may give it up: he's full of his new boots--and singing, +see! + +_Enter PHIL McBRIDE, dressed in the height of the Irish buck-farmer +fashion, singing,_ + + "Oh the boy of Ball'navogue! + Oh the dasher! oh the rogue! + He's the thing! and he's the pride + Of town and country, Phil McBride-- + All the talk of shoe and brogue! + Oh the boy of Ball'navogue!" + +There's a song to the praise and glory of your--of your brother, Honor! +And who made it, do you think, girl? + +_Honor._ Miss Caroline Flaherty, no doubt. But, dear Phil, I've a favour +to ask of you. + +_Phil._ And welcome! What? But first, see! isn't there an elegant pair +of boots, that fits a leg like wax?--There's what'll plase Car'line +Flaherty, I'll engage. But what ails you, Honor?--you look as if your +own heart was like to break. Are not you for the fair to-day?--and why +not? + +_Honor._ Oh! rasons. (_Aside_) Now I can't speak. + +_Phil._ Speak on, for I'm dumb and all ear--speak up, dear--no fear of +the father's coming out, for he's leaving his _bird_ (i.e. beard) in the +bason, and that's a work of time with him.--Tell all to your own Phil. + +_Honor._ Why then I won't go to the fair--because--better keep myself to +myself, out of the way of meeting them that mightn't be too plasing to +my father. + +_Phil._ And might be too plasing to somebody else--Honor McBride. + +_Honor._ Oh, Phil, dear! But only promise me, brother, dearest, if you +would this day meet any of the Rooneys-- + +_Phil._ That means Randal Rooney. + +_Honor._ No, it was his mother Catty was in my head. + +_Phil._ A bitterer scould never was!--nor a bigger lawyer in petticoats, +which is an abomination. + +_Honor._ 'Tis not pritty, I grant; but her heart's good, if her temper +would give it fair play. But will you promise me, Phil, whatever she +says--you won't let her provoke you this day. + +_Phil._ How in the name of wonder will I hinder her to give me +provocation? and when the spirit of the McBrides is up-- + +_Honor._ But don't lift a hand. + +_Phil._ Against a woman?--no fear--not a finger against a woman. + +_Honor._ But I say not against any Rooney, man or woman. Oh, Phil! dear, +don't let there be any fighting betwixt the McBride and Rooney factions. + +_Phil._ And how could I hinder if I would? The boys will be having a +row, especially when they get the spirits--and all the better. + +_Honor._ To be drinking! Oh! Phil, the mischief that drinking does! + +_Phil._ Mischief! Quite and clane the contrary--when the shillelah's up, +the pike's down. 'Tis when there'd be no fights at fairs, and all sober, +then there's rason to dread mischief. No man, Honor, dare be letting the +whiskey into his head, was there any mischief in his heart. + +_Honor._ Well, Phil, you've made it out now cliverly. So there's most +danger of mischief when men's sober--is that it? + +_Phil._ Irishmen?--ay; for sobriety is not the nat'ral state of the +_craturs_; and what's not nat'ral is hypocritical, and a hypocrite is, +and was, and ever will be my contempt. + +_Honor._ And mine too. But-- + +_Phil._ But here's my hand for you, Honor. They call me a beau and a +buck, a slasher and dasher, and flourishing Phil. All that I am, may +be; but there's one thing I am not, and will never be--and that's a bad +brother to you. So you have my honour, and here's my oath to the back of +it. By all the pride of man and all the consate of woman--where will you +find a bigger oath?--happen what will, this day, I'll not lift my hand +against Randal Rooney! + +_Honor._ Oh, thanks! warm from the heart. But here's my father--and +where's breakfast? + +_Phil._ Oh! I must be at him for a horse: you, Honor, mind and back me. + +_Enter Old McBRIDE._ + +_Old McB._ Late I am this fair day all along with my beard, that was +thicker than a hedgehog's. Breakfast, where? + +_Honor._ Here, father dear--all ready. + +_Old McB._ There's a jewel! always supple o' foot. Phil, call to them +to bring out the horse bastes, while I swallow my breakfast--and a good +one, too. + +_Phil._ Your horse is all ready standing, sir. But that's what I wanted +to ax you, father--will you be kind enough, sir, to shell out for me the +price of a _daacent_ horse, fit to mount a man like me? + +_Old McB._ What ails the baste you have under you always? + +_Phil._ Fit only for the hounds:--not to follow, but to feed 'em. + +_Old McB._ Hounds! I don't want you, Phil, to be following the hounds +at-all-at-all. + +_Honor._ But let alone the hounds. If you sell your bullocks well in the +fair to-day, father dear, I think you'll be so kind to spare Phil the +price of a horse. + +_Old McB._ Stand out o' my way, Honor, with that wheedling voice o' your +own--I won't. Mind your own affairs--you're leaguing again me, and I'll +engage Randal Rooney's at the bottom of all--and the cement that sticks +you and Phil so close together. But mind, Madam Honor, if you give him +the meeting at the fair the day-- + +_Honor._ Dear father, I'm not going--I give up the fair o' purpose, for +fear I'd see him. + +_Old McB._ (_kissing her_) Why then you're a piece of an angel! + +_Honor._ And you'll give my brother the horse? + +_Old McB._ I won't! when I've said I won't--I wont. + +[_Buttons his coat, and exit._ + +_Phil._ Now there's a sample of a father for ye! + +_Old McB._ (_returning_) And, Mistress Honor, may be you'd be staying at +home to--Where's Randal Rooney to be, pray, while I'd be from home? + +_Honor._ Oh! father, would you suspect-- + +_Old McB._ (_catching her in his arms, and kissing her again and again_) +Then you're a true angel, every inch of you. But not a word more in +favour of the horse--sure the money for the bullocks shall go to your +portion, every farthing. + +_Honor._ There's the thing! (_Holding her father_) I don't wish that. + +_Phil._ (_stopping her mouth_) Say no more, Honor--I'm best pleased so. + +_Old McB._ (_aside_) I'll give him the horse, but he sha'n't know it. +(_Aloud_) I won't. When I say I won't, did I ever? + +[_Exit Old McBRIDE._ + +_Phil._ Never since the world _stud_--to do you justice, you are as +obstinate as a mule. Not all the bullocks he's carrying to the fair the +day, nor all the bullocks in Ballynavogue joined to 'em, in one team, +would draw that father o' mine one inch out of his way. + +_Honor._ (_aside, with a deep sigh_) Oh, then what will I do about +Randal ever! + +_Phil._ As close a fisted father as ever had the grip of a guinea! If +the guineas was all for you--wilcome, Honor! But that's not it. Pity of +a lad o' spirit like me to be cramped by such a hunx of a father. + +_Honor._ Oh! don't be calling him names, Phil: stiff he is, more +than close--and any way, Phil dear, he's the father still--and ould, +consider. + +_Phil._ He is,--and I'm fond enough of him, too, would he only give me +the price of a horse. But no matter--spite of him I'll have my swing +the day, and it's I that will tear away with a good horse under me and +a good whip over him in a capital style, up and down the street of +Ballynavogue, for you, Miss Car'line Flaherty! I know who I'll go to, +this minute--a man I'll engage will lend me the loan of his bay gelding; +and that's Counshillor Gerald O'Blaney. [_Going, HONOR stops him._ + +_Honor._ Gerald O'Blaney! Oh, brother!--Mercy!--Don't! any thing rather +than that-- + +_Phil._ (_impatiently_) Why, then, Honor? + +_Honor._ (_aside_) If I'd tell him, there'd be mischief. (_Aloud._) +Only--I wouldn't wish you under a compliment to one I've no opinion of. + +_Phil._ Phoo! you've taken a prejudice. What is there again Counshillor +O'Blaney? + +_Honor._ _Counshillor!_ First place, why do you call him _counshillor_? +he never was a raal counshillor sure--nor jantleman at all. + +_Phil._ Oh! counshillor by courtesy--he was an attorney once--just as we +_doctor_ the apotecary. + +_Honor._ But, Phil, was not there something of this man's being +dismissed the courts for too sharp practice? + +_Phil._ But that was long ago, if it ever was. There's sacrets in all +families to be forgotten--bad to be raking the past. I never knew you so +sharp on a neighbour, Honor, before:--what ails ye? + +_Honor._ (_sighing_) I can't tell ye. [_Still holding him._ + +_Phil._ Let me go, then!--Nonsense!--the boys of Ballynavogue will be +wondering, and Miss Car'line most. + +[_Exit, singing,_ + + "Oh the boys of Ball'navogue." + +_HONOR, alone._ + +_Honor._ Oh, Phil! I _could_ not tell it you; but did you but know how +_that_ Gerald O'Blaney insulted your shister with his vile proposhals, +you'd no more ask the loan of his horse!--and I in dread, whenever +I'd be left in the house alone, that that bad man would boult in upon +me--and Randal to find him! and Randal's like gunpowder when his heart's +touched!--and if Randal should come _by himself_, worse again! Honor, +where would be your resolution to forbid him your presence? Then there's +but one way to be right--I'll lave home entirely. Down, proud stomach! +You must go to service, Honor McBride. There's Mrs. Carver, kind-hearted +lady, is wanting a girl--she's English, and nice; may be I'd not be +good enough; but I can but try, and do my best; any thing to plase the +father. + +[_Exit HONOR._ + + + + +SCENE II. + + +_O'BLANEY'S Counting-house._ + +_GERALD O'BLANEY alone at a desk covered with Papers._ + +_O'Bla._ Of all the employments in life, this eternal balancing of +accounts, see-saw, is the most sickening of all things, except it +would be the taking the inventory of your stock, when you're reduced to +_invent_ the stock itself;--then that's the most lowering to a man of +all things! But there's one comfort in this distillery business--come +what will, a man has always _proof spirits_. + +_Enter PAT COXE._ + +_Pat._ The whole tribe of Connaught men come, craving to be _ped_ for +the oats, counsellor, due since last Serapht[1] fair. + +[Footnote 1: Shrovetide.] + +_O'Bla._ Can't be ped to-day, let 'em crave never so.--Tell 'em +_Monday_; and give 'em a glass of whiskey round, and that will send 'em +off contint, in a jerry. + +_Pat._ I shall--I will--I see, sir. [_Exit PAT COXE._ + +_O'Bla._ Asy settled that!--but I hope many more duns for oats won't +be calling on me this day, for cash is not to be had:--here's bills +plenty--long bills, and short bills--but even the kites, which I can fly +as well as any man, won't raise the wind for me now. + +_Re-enter PAT._ + +_Pat._ Tim McGudikren, sir, for his debt--and talks of the sub-sheriff, +and can't wait. + +_O'Bla._ I don't ax him to wait; but he must take in payment, since he's +in such a hurry, this bill at thirty-one days, tell him. + +_Pat._ I shall tell him so, plase your honour. [_Exit PAT._ + +_O'Bla._ They have all rendezvous'd to drive me mad this day; but the +only thing is to keep the head cool. What I'm dreading beyant all is, +if that ould Matthew McBride, who is as restless as a ferret when he has +lodged money with any one, should come this day to take out of my hands +the two hundred pounds I've got of his--Oh, then I might shut up! But +stay, I'll match him--and I'll match myself too: that daughter Honor of +his is a mighty pretty girl to look at, and since I can't get her any +other way, why not ax her in marriage? Her portion is to be-- + +_Re-enter PAT._ + +_Pat._ The protested note, sir--with the charge of the protest to the +back of it, from Mrs. Lorigan; and her compliments, and to know what +will she do? + +_O'Bla._ What will _I_ do, fitter to ax. My kind compliments to Mrs. +Lorigan, and I'll call upon her in the course of the day, to settle it +all. + +_Pat._ I understand, sir. [_Exit PAT._ + +_O'Bla._ Honor McBride's portion will be five hundred pounds on the +nail--that would be no bad hit, and she a good, clever, likely girl. +I'll pop the question this day. + +_Re-enter PAT._ + +_Pat._ Corkeran the cooper's bill, as long as my arm. + +_O'Bla._ Oh! don't be bothering me any more. Have you no sinse? Can't +you get shut of Corkeran the cooper without me? Can't ye quarrel with +the items? Tear the bill down the middle, if necessary, and sind him +away with a flay (flea) in his ear, to make out a proper bill--which I +can't see till to-morrow, mind. I never pay any man on fair-day. + +_Pat._ (_aside_) Nor on any other day. (_Aloud_) Corkeran's my cousin, +counsellor, and if convanient, I'd be glad you'd advance him a pound or +two on account. + +_O'Bla._ 'Tis not convanient was he twenty times your cousin, Pat. I +can't be paying in bits, nor on account--all or none. + +_Pat._ None, then, I may tell him, sir? + +_O'Bla._ You may--you must; and don't come up for any of 'em any more. +It's hard if I can't have a minute to talk to myself. + +_Pat._ And it's hard if I can't have a minute to eat my breakfast, too, +which I have not. [_Exit PAT._ + +_O'Bla._ Where was I?--I was popping the question to Honor McBride. +The only thing is, whether the girl herself wouldn't have an +objection:--there's that Randal Rooney is a great _bachelor_ of hers, +and I doubt she'd be apt to prefar him before me, even when I'd +purpose marriage. But the families of the Rooneys and McBrides is at +vareance--then I must keep 'em so. I'll keep Catty Rooney's spirit up, +niver to consent to that match. Oh! if them Rooneys and McBrides were +by any chance to make it up, I'd be undone: but against that catastrophe +I've a preventative. Pat Coxe! Pat Coxe! where are you, my young man? + +_Enter PAT, wiping his mouth._ + +_Pat._ Just swallowing my breakfast. + +_O'Bla._ Mighty long swallowing you are. Here--don't be two minutes, +till you're at Catty Rooney's, and let me see how cliverly you'll +execute that confidential embassy I trusted you with. Touch Catty up +about her ould ancient family, and all the Kings of Ireland she comes +from. _Blarney_ her cliverly, and work her to a foam against the +McBrides. + +_Pat._ Never fear, your honour. I'll tell her the story we agreed on, of +Honor McBride meeting of Randal Rooney behind the chapel. + +_O'Bla._ That will do--don't forget the ring; for I mane to put another +on the girl's finger, if she's agreeable, and knows her own interest. +But that last's a private article. Not a word of that to Catty, you +understand. + +_Pat._ Oh! I understand--and I'll engage I'll compass Catty, tho' she's +a cunning shaver. + +_O'Bla._ Cunning?--No; she's only hot tempered, and asy managed. + +_Pat._ Whatever she is, I'll do my best to plase you. And I expict your +honour, counsellor, won't forget the promise you made me, to ask Mr. +Carver for that little place--that situation that would just shute me. + +_O'Bla._ Never fear, never fear. Time enough to think of shuting you, +when you've done my business. [_Exit PAT._ That will work like harm, and +ould Matthew, the father, I'll speak to, myself, genteelly. He will be +proud, I warrant, to match his daughter with a gentleman like me. But +what if he should smell a rat, and want to be looking into my affairs? +Oh! I must get it sartified properly to him before all things, that +I'm as safe as the bank; and I know who shall do that for me--my worthy +friend, that most consequential magistrate, Mr. Carver of Bob's Fort, +who loves to be advising and managing of all men, women, and children, +for their good. 'Tis he shall advise ould Matthew for _my_ good. Now +Carver thinks he lades the whole county, and ten mile round--but who is +it lades him, I want to know? Why, Gerald O'Blaney.--And how? Why, by +a spoonful of the universal panacea, _flattery_--in the vulgar tongue, +_flummery_. (_A knock at the door heard._) Who's rapping at the +street?--Carver of Bob's Fort himself, in all his glory this fair-day. +See then how he struts and swells. Did ever man, but a pacock, look so +fond of himself with less rason? But I must be caught deep in accounts, +and a balance of thousands to credit. (_Sits down to his desk, +to account books._) Seven thousand, three hundred, and two pence. +(_Starting and rising._) Do I see Mr. Carver of Bob's Fort?--Oh! the +honour-- + +_Mr. Carv._ Don't stir, pray--I beg--I request--I insist. I am by no +means ceremonious, sir. + +_O'Bla._ (_bustling and setting two chairs_) No, but I'd wish to show +respect proper to him I consider the first man in the county. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_aside_) Man! gentleman, he might have said. + +[_Mr. CARVER sits down and rests himself consequentially._ + +_O'Bla._ Now, Mr. Carver of Bob's Fort, you've been over fartiguing +yourself-- + +_Mr. Carv._ For the public good. I can't help it, really. + +_O'Bla._ Oh! but, upon my word and honour, it's too much: there's rason +in all things. A man of Mr. Carver's fortin to be slaving! If you were a +man in business, like me, it would be another thing. I must slave at the +desk to keep all round. See, Mr. Carver, see!--ever since the day you +advised me to be as particular as yourself in keeping accounts to a +farthing, I do, to a fraction, even like state accounts, see! + +_Mr. Carv._ And I trust you find your advantage in it, sir. Pray, how +does the distillery business go on? + +_O'Bla._ Swimmingly! ever since that time, Mr. Carver, your interest at +the castle helped me at the dead lift, and got that fine took off. 'Tis +to your purtiction, encouragement, and advice entirely, I owe my present +unexampled prosperity, which you prophesied; and Mr. Carver's prophecies +seldom, I may say never, fail to be accomplished. + +_Mr. Carv._ I own there is some truth in your observation. I confess I +have seldom been mistaken or deceived in my judgment of man, woman, or +child. + +_O'Bla._ Who can say so much? + +_Mr. Carv._ For what reason, I don't pretend to say; but the fact +ostensibly is, that the few persons I direct with my advice are +unquestionably apt to prosper in this world. + +_O'Bla._ Mighty apt! for which rason I would wish to trouble you for +your unprecedently good advice on another pint, if it, would not be too +great a liberty. + +_Mr. Carv._ No liberty at all, my good Gerald--I am always ready to +advise--only to-day--certainly, the fair day of Ballynavogue, there are +so many calls upon me, both in a public and private capacity, so much +business of vital importance! + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) Vital importance!--that is his word on all occasions. +(_Aloud_) May be then, (oh! where was my head?) may be you would not +have breakfasted all this time? and we've the kittle down always in this +house, (_rising_) Pat!--Jack!--Mick!--Jenny! put the kittle down. + +_Mr. Carv._ Sit down, sit still, my worthy fellow. Breakfasted at Bob's +Fort, as I always do. + +_O'Bla._ But a bit of cake--a glass of wine, to refrish and replinish +nature. + +_Mr. Carv._ Too early--spoil my dinner. But what was I going to say? + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) Burn me, if I know; and I pray all the saints you may +never recollect. + +_Mr. Carv._ I recollect. How many times do you think I was stopped on +horseback coming up the street of Ballynavogue?--Five times by weights +and measures imperiously calling for reformation, sir. Thirteen times, +upon my veracity, by booths, apple-stalls, nuisances, vagabonds, and +drunken women. Pigs without end, sir--wanting ringing, and all squealing +in my ears, while I was settling sixteen disputes about tolls and +customs. Add to this, my regular battle every fair-day with the +crane, which ought to be any where but where it is; and my perputual +discoveries of fraudulent kegs, and stones in the butter! Now, sir, +I only ask, can you wonder that I wipe my forehead? (_wiping his +forehead_). + +_O'Bla._ In troth, Mr. Carver, I cannot! But these are the pains and +penalties of being such a man of consequence as you evidently are;--and +I that am now going to add to your troubles too by consulting you about +my little pint! + +_Mr. Carv._ A point of law, I dare to say; for people somehow or other +have got such a prodigious opinion of my law. (_Takes snuff._) + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) No coming to the pint till he has finished his own +panygeric. + +_Mr. Carv._ And I own I cannot absolutely turn my back on people. Yet +as to _poor_ people, I always settle them by telling them, it is my +principle that law is too expensive for the poor: I tell them, the poor +have nothing to do with the laws. + +_O'Bla._ Except the penal. + +_Mr. Carv._ True, the civil is for us, men of property; and no man +should think of going to law, without he's qualified. There should be +licenses. + +_O'Bla._ No doubt. Pinalties there are in plinty; still those who can +afford should indulge. In Ireland it would as ill become a gentleman to +be any way shy of a law-shute, as of a duel. + +_Mr. Carv._ Yet law is expensive, sir, even to me. + +_O'Bla._ But 'tis the best economy in the end; for when once you have +cast or non-shuted your man in the courts, 'tis as good as winged him in +the field. And suppose you don't get sixpence costs, and lose your cool +hundred by it, still it's a great advantage; for you are let alone to +enjoy your own in pace and quiet ever after, which you could not do in +this county without it. But the love of the law has carried me away from +my business: the pint I wanted to consult you about is not a pint of +law; 'tis another matter. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_looking at his watch_) I must be at Bob's Fort, to seal my +despatches for the castle. And there's another thing I say of myself. + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) Remorseless agotist! + +_Mr. Carv._ I don't know how the people all have got such an idea of my +connexions at the castle, and my influence with his Excellency, that I +am worried with eternal applications: they expect I can make them all +gaugers or attorney-generals, I believe. How do they know I write to the +castle? + +_O'Bla._ Oh! the post-office tells asy by the big sales (seals) to your +despatches--(_aside_)--which, I'll engage, is all the castle ever, rades +of them, though Carver has his Excellency always in his mouth, God help +him! + +_Mr. Carv._ Well, you wanted to consult me, Gerald? + +_O'Bla._ And you'll give me your advice, which will be conclusive, law, +and every thing to me. You know the McBrides--would they be safe? + +_Mr. Carv._ Very safe, substantial people. + +_O'Bla._ Then here's the thing, Mr. Carver: as you recommend them, and +as they are friends of yours--I will confess to you that, though it +might not in pint of interest be a very prudent match, I am thinking +that Honor McBride is such a prudent girl, and Mrs. Carver has taken her +by the hand, so I'd wish to follow Mrs. Carver's example for life, in +taking Honor by the hand for better for worse. + +_Mr. Carv._ In my humble opinion you cannot do better; and I can tell +you a secret--Honor will have no contemptible fortune in that rank of +life. + +_O'Bla._ Oh, fortune's always contemptible in marriage. + +_Mr. Carv._ Fortune! sir? + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) Overshot. (_Aloud_) In comparison with the patronage +and protection or countenance she'd have from you and your family, sir. + +_Mr. Carv._ That you may depend upon, my good Gerald, as far as we can +go; but you know we are nothing. + +_O'Bla._ Oh, I know you're every thing--every thing on +earth--particularly with ould McBride; and you know how to speak so well +and iloquent, and I'm so tongue-tied and bashful on such an occasion. + +_Mr. Carv._ Well, well, I'll speak for you. + +_O'Bla._ A thousand thanks down to the ground. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_patting him on the back as he rises_) My _poor_ Gerald. + +_O'Bla._ Then I am _poor_ Gerald in point of wit, I know; but you are +too good a friend to be calling me _poor_ to ould McBride--you can say +what I can't say. + +_Mr. Carv._ Certainly, certainly; and you may depend on me. I shall +speak my decided opinion; and I fancy McBride has sense enough to be +ruled by me. + +_O'Bla._ I am sure he has--only there's a Randal Rooney, a wild young +man, in the case. I'd be sorry the girl was thrown I away upon Randal. + +_Mr. Carv._ She has too much sense: the father will settle that, and +I'll settle the father. [_Mr. CARVER going._ + +_O'Bla._ (_following, aside_) And who has settled you? + +_Mr. Carv._ Don't stir--don't stir--men of business must be nailed to a +spot--and I'm not ceremonious. [_Exit Mr. CARVER._ + +_O'Bla._ Pinned him by all that's cliver! [_Exit O'BLANEY._ + + + + +SCENE III. + + +_Mrs. CARVER'S Dressing-room._ + +_Mrs. CARVER sitting at work.--BLOOMSBURY standing._ + +_Bloom._ Certainly, ma'am, what I always said was, that for the +commonalty, there's no getting out of an Irish cabin a girl fit to be +about a lady such as you, Mrs. Carver, in the shape of a waiting-maid +or waiting-maid's assistant, on account they smell so of smoke, which +is very distressing; but this Honor McBride seems a bettermost sort of +girl, ma'am; if you can make up your mind to her _vice_. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Vice? + +_Bloom._ That is, vicious pronounciations in regard to their Irish +brogues. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Is that all?--I am quite accustomed to _the accent_. + +_Bloom._ Then, ma'am, I declare now, I've been forced to stuff my +_hears_ with cotton wool hever since I comed to Ireland. But this here +Honor McBride has a mighty pretty _vice_, if you don't take exceptions +to a little nationality; nor she if not so smoke-dried: she's really a +nice, tidy-looking like girl considering. I've taken tea with the family +often, and they live quite snug for Hirish. I'll assure you, ma'am, +quite bettermost people for Hibernians, as you always said, ma'am. + +_Mrs. Carv._ I have a regard for old Matthew, though he is something of +a miser, I fear. + +_Bloom._ So, ma'am, shall I call the girl up, that we may see and talk +to her? I think, ma'am, you'll find she will do; and I reckon to keep +her under my own eye and advice from morning till night: for when I seed +the girl so willing to larn, I quite took a fancy to her, I own--as it +were. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Well, Bloomsbury, let me see this Honor McBride. + +_Bloom._ (_calling_) One of you there! please call up Honor McBride. + +_Mrs. Carv._ She has been waiting a great while, I fear; I don't like to +keep people waiting. + +_Bloom._ (_watching for HONOR as she speaks_) Dear heart, ma'am, in +this here country, people does love waiting for waiting's sake, that's +sure--they got nothing else to do. Here, Honor--walk in, Honor,--rub +your shoes always. + +_Enter HONOR, timidly._ + +_Mrs. Carv._ (_in an encouraging voice_) Come in, my good girl. + +_Bloom._ Oh! child, the door: the peoples never shut a door in, Ireland! +Did not I warn you?--says I, "Come when you're called--do as you're +bid--shut the door after you, and you'll never be chid." Now what did I +tell you, child? + +_Honor._ To shut the door after me when I'd come into a room. + +_Bloom._ _When I'd come_--now that's not dic'snary English. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Good Bloomsbury, let that pass for the present--come a +little nearer to me, my good girl. + +_Honor._ Yes, ma'am. + +_Bloom._ Take care of that china pyramint with your cloak--walk on to +Mrs. Carver--no need to be afraid--I'll stand your friend. + +_Mrs. Carv._ I should have thought, Honor McBride, you were in too +comfortable a way at home, to think of going into service. + +_Honor._ (_sighs_) No better father, nor brother, _nor_ (than) I have, +ma'am, I thank your ladyship; but some things come across. + +_Mrs. Carv._ (_aside_) Oh! it is a blushing case, I see: I must talk to +her alone, by-and-by. (_Aloud_) I don't mean, my good girl, to pry into +your family affairs. + +_Honor._ Oh! ma'am, you're too good. (_Aside_) The kind-hearted Lady, +how I love her already! (_She wipes the tears from her eyes._) + +_Bloom._ Take care of the bow-pot at your elbow, child; for if you break +the necks of them moss roses-- + +_Honor._ I ax their pardon. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Better take the flower-pot out of her way, Bloomsbury. + +_Bloom._ (_moving the flower-pot_) There, now: but, Honor, keep your +eyes on my lady, never turn your head, and keep your hands always afore +you, as I show you. Ma'am, she'll larn manners in time--Lon'on was not +built in a day. It i'n't to be expected of she! + +_Mrs. Carv._ It is not to be expected indeed that she should learn every +thing at once; so one thing at a time, good Bloomsbury, and one person +at a time. Leave Honor to me for the present. + +_Bloom._ Certainly, ma'am; I beg pardon--I was only saying-- + +_Mrs. Carv._ Since it is, it seems, necessary, my good girl, that you +should leave home, I am glad that you are not too proud to go into +service. + +_Honor._ Oh! into _your_ service, ma'am,--I'd be too proud if you'd be +kind enough to accept me. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Then as to wages, what do you expect? + +_Honor._ Any thing at all you please, ma'am. + +_Bloom._ (_pressing down her shoulder_) And where's your curtsy? We +shall bring these Irish knees into training by and by, I hopes. + +_Honor._ I'm awk'ard and strange, ma'am--I never was from home afore. + +_Mrs. Carv._ Poor girl--we shall agree very well, I hope. + +_Honor._ Oh yes, any thing at all, ma'am; I'm not greedy--nor needy, +thanks above! but it's what I'd wish to be under your protection if it +was plasing, and I'll do my very best, madam. (_Curtsies._) + +_Mrs. Carv._ Nobody can expect more, and I hope and trust you'll find +mine an easy place--Bloomsbury, you will tell her, what will be required +of her. (_Mrs. Carver looks at her watch._) At twelve o'clock I shall +be returned from my walk, and then, Honor, you will come into my cabinet +here; I want to say a few words to you. [_Exeunt omnes._ + + + + +SCENE IV. + + +_The High Road--A Cottage in view--Turf-stack, Hay-rick, &c._ + +_Catty Rooney alone, walking backwards and forwards._ + +_Catty._ 'Tis but a stone's throw to Ballynavogue. But I don't like to +be going into the fair on foot, when I been always used to go in upon +my pillion behind my husband when living, and my son Randal, after his +death. Wait, who comes here?--'Tis Gerald O'Blaney's, the distiller's, +young man, Pat Coxe: now we'll larn all--and whether O'Blaney can lend +me the loan of a horse or no. A good morrow to you, kindly, Mr. Pat +Coxe. + +_Enter PAT COXE._ + +_Pat._ And you the same, Mrs. Rooney, tinfold. Mr. O'Blaney has his +_sarvices_ to you, ma'am: no, not his _sarvices_, but his compliments, +that was the word--his kind compliments, that was the very word. + +_Catty._ The counshillor's always very kind to me, and genteel. + +_Pat._ And was up till past two in the morning, last night, madam, he +bid me say, looking over them papers you left with him for your shuit, +ma'am, with the McBrides, about the bit of Ballynascraw bog; and if you +call upon the counshillor in the course of the morning, he'll find, or +make, a minute, for a consultation, he says. But mane time, to take no +step to compromise, or make it up, _for your life_, ma'am. + +_Catty._ No fear, I'll not give up at law, or any way, to a McBride, +while I've a drop of blood in my veins--and it's good thick Irish blood +runs in these veins. + +_Pat._ No doubt, ma'am--from the kings of Ireland, as all the world +knows, Mrs. Rooney. + +_Catty._ And the McBrides have no blood at-all-at-all. + +_Pat._ Not a drop, ma'am--so they can't stand before you. + +_Catty._ They _ought_ not, any way!--What are they? Cromwellians at the +best. Mac Brides! Scotch!--not Irish native, at-all-at-all. People of +yesterday, graziers--which tho' they've made the money, can't buy the +blood. My anshestors sat on a throne, when the McBrides had only their +_hunkers_[1] to sit upon; and if I walk now when they ride, they can't +look down upon me--for every body knows who I am--and what they are. + +[Footnote 1: Their _hunkers_, i.e. their hams.] + +_Pat._ To be sure, ma'am, they do--the whole country talks of nothing +else, but the shame when you'd be walking and they riding. + +_Catty._ Then could the counshillor lend me the horse? + +_Pat._ With all the pleasure in life, ma'am, only every horse he has in +the world is out o' messages, and drawing turf and one thing or another +to-day--and he is very sorry, ma'am. + +_Catty._ So am I, then--I'm unlucky the day. But I won't be saying so, +for fear of spreading ill luck on my faction. Pray now what kind of a +fair is it?--Would there be any good signs of a fight, Mr. Pat Coxe? + +_Pat._ None in life as yet, ma'am--only just buying and selling. The +horse-bastes, and horned-cattle, and pigs squeaking, has it all to +themselves. But it's early times yet--it won't be long so. + +_Catty._ No McBrides, no Ballynavogue boys gathering yet? + +_Pat._ None to signify of the McBrides, ma'am, at all. + +_Catty._ Then it's plain them McBrides dare not be showing their faces, +or even their backs, in Ballynavogue. But sure all our Ballynascraw +boys, the Roonies, are in it as usual, I hope? + +_Pat._ Oh, ma'am, there is plinty of Roonies. I marked Big Briny of +Cloon, and Ulick of Eliogarty, and little Charley of Killaspugbrone. + +_Catty._ All _good_ men[1]--no better. Praise be where due. + +[Footnote 1: men who fight well.] + +_Pat._ And scarce a McBride I noticed. But the father and son--ould +Matthew, and flourishing Phil, was in it, with a new pair of boots and +the silver-hilted whip. + +_Catty._ The spalpeen! turned into a buckeen, that would be a +squireen,--but can't. + +_Pat._ No, for the father pinches him. + +_Catty._ That's well--and that ould Matthew is as obstinate a neger as +ever famished his stomach. What's he doing in Ballynavogue the day? + +_Pat._ Standing he is there, in the fair-green with his score of fat +bullocks, that he has got to sell. + +_Catty._ Fat bullocks! Them, I reckon, will go towards Honor McBride's +portion, and a great fortin she'll be for a poor man--but I covet none +of it for me or mine. + +_Pat._ I'm sure of that, ma'am,--you would not demane yourself to the +likes. + +_Catty._ Mark me, Pat Coxe, now--with all them fat bullocks at her back, +and with all them fresh roses in her cheeks--and I don't say but she's a +likely girl, if she wa'n't a McBride; but with all that, and if she was +the best spinner in the three counties--and I don't say but she's good, +if she wa'n't a McBride;--but was she the best of the best, and the +fairest of the fairest, and had she to boot the two stockings full of +gould, Honor McBride shall never be brought home, a daughter-in-law to +me! My pride's up. + +_Pat._ (_aside_) And I'm instructed to keep it up.--(_Aloud_) True for +ye, ma'am, and I wish that all had as much proper pride, as ought to be +having it. + +_Catty._ There's maning in your eye, Pat--give it tongue. + +_Pat._ If you did not hear it, I suppose there's no truth in it. + +_Catty._ What?--which? + +_Pat._ That your son Randal, Mrs. Rooney, is not of your way of thinking +about Honor McBride, may be's. + +_Catty._ Tut! No matter what way of thinking he is--a young slip of a +boy like him does not know what he'll think to-morrow. He's a good son +to me; and in regard to a wife, one girl will do him as well as another, +if he has any sinse--and I'll find him a girl that will plase him, I'll +engage. + +_Pat._ May be so, ma'am--no fear: only boys do like to be plasing +themselves, by times--and I noticed something. + +_Catty._ What did you notice?--till me, Pat, dear, quick. + +_Pat._ No--'tis bad to be meddling and remarking to get myself ill-will; +so I'll keep myself to myself: for Randal's ready enough with his hand +as you with the tongue--no offence, Mrs. Rooney, ma'am. + +_Catty._ Niver fear--only till me the truth, Pat, dear. + +_Pat._ Why, then, to the best of my opinion, I seen Honor McBride just +now giving Randal Rooney the meeting behind the chapel; and I seen him +putting a ring on her finger. + +_Catty._ (_clasping her hands_) Oh, murder!--Oh! the unnat'ral monsters +that love makes of these young men; and the traitor, to use me so, when +he promised he'd never make a stolen match unknown'st to me. + +_Pat._ Oh, ma'am, I don't say--I wouldn't swear--it's a match yet. + +_Catty._ Then I'll run down and stop it--and catch 'em. + +_Pat._ You haven't your jock on, ma'am--(_she turns towards the +house_)--and it's no use--for you won't catch 'em: I seen them after, +turning the back way into Nick Flaherty's. + +_Catty._ Nick Flaherty's, the publican's? oh, the sinners! And this is +the saint that Honor McBride would be passing herself upon us for? And +all the edication she got at Mrs. Carver's Sunday school! Oh, this comes +of being better than one's neighbours! A fine thing to tell Mrs. Carver, +the English lady, that's so nice, and so partial to Miss Honor McBride! +Oh, I'll expose her! + +_Pat._ Oh! sure, Mrs. Rooney, you promised you'd not tell, (_Standing so +as to stop CATTY._) + +_Catty._ Is it who told me? No--I won't mintion a sintence of your name. +But let me by--I won't be put off now I've got the scent. I'll hunt 'em +out, and drag her to shame, if they're above ground, or my name's not +Catty Rooney! Mick! Mick! little Mick! (_calling at the cottage door_) +bring my blue _jock_ up the road after me to Ballynavogue. Don't let +me count three till you're after me, or I'll bleed ye! (_Exit CATTY, +shaking her closed hand, and repeating_) I'll expose Honor McBride--I'll +expose Honor! I will, by the blessing! + +_Pat._ (_alone_) Now, if Randal Rooney would hear, he'd make a jelly +of me, and how I'd trimble; or the brother, if he comed across me, and +knewed. But they'll niver know. Oh, Catty won't say a sintence of my +name, was she carded! No, Catty's a scould, but has a conscience. Then I +like conscience in them I have to dale with sartainly. [_Exit._ + + + + +SCENE V. + + +_Mrs. CARVER'S Dressing-room, HONOR McBRIDE and MISS BLOOMSBURY +discovered._ + +_Honor._ How _will_ I know, Miss Bloomsbury, when it will be twelve +o'clock? + +_Bloom._ You'll hear the clock strike: but I suspect you'se don't +understand the clock yet--well, you'll hear the workmen's bell. + +_Honor._ I know, ma'am, oh, I know, true--only I was flurried, so I +forgot. + +_Bloom._ Flurried! but never be flurried. Now mind and keep your head +upon your shoulders, while I tell you all your duty--you'll just ready +this here room, your lady's dressing-room; not a partical of dust let me +never find, petticlarly behind the vindor shuts. + +_Honor._ Vindor shuts!--where, ma'am? + +_Bloom._ The _shuts_ of the _vindors_--did you never hear of a vindor, +child? + +_Honor._ Never, ma'am. + +_Bloom._ (_pointing to a window_) Don't tell me! why, your head is +a wool-gathering! Now, mind me, pray--see here, always you put that +there,--and this here, and that upon that,--and this upon this, and this +under that,--and that under this--you can remember that much, child, I +supposes? + +_Honor._ I'll do my endeavour, ma'am, to remember all. + +_Bloom._ But mind, now, my good girl, you takes _petticlar_ care of this +here pyramint of japanned china--and _very_ petticlar care of that there +great joss--and the _very most petticularest_ care of this here right +reverend Mandolin. (_Pointing to, and touching a Mandarin, so as to make +it shake. HONOR starts back._) + +_Bloom._ It i'n't alive. Silly child, to start at a Mandolin shaking his +head and beard at you. But, oh! mercy, if there i'n't enough to make him +shake his head. Stand there!--stand here!--now don't you see? + +_Honor._ _Which_, ma'am? + +_Bloom._ "_Which, ma'am!_" you're no _witch_, indeed, if you don't see a +cobweb as long as my arm. Run, run, child, for the pope's head. + +_Honor._ Pope's head, ma'am? + +_Bloom._ Ay, the pope's head, which you'll find under the stairs. Well, +a'n't you gone? what do you stand there like a stuck pig, for?--Never +see a pope's head?--never 'ear of a pope's head? + +_Honor._ I've heard of one, ma'am--with the priest; but we are +protestants. + +_Bloom._ Protestants! what's that to do? I do protest, I believe that +little head of yours is someway got wrong on your shoulders to-day. +[_The clock strikes_--HONOR, _who is close to it, starts._ + +_Bloom._ Start again!--why, you're all starts and fits. Never start, +child! so ignoramus like! 'tis only the clock in your ear,--twelve +o'clock, hark!--The bell will ring now in a hurry. Then you goes in +there to my lady--stay, you'll never be able, I dare for to say, for to +open the door without me; for I opine you are not much usen'd to brass +locks in Hirish cabins--can't be expected. See here, then! You turns the +lock in your hand this'n ways--the lock, mind now; not the key nor the +bolt for your life, child, else you'd bolt your lady in, and there'd be +my lady in Lob's pound, and there'd be a pretty kettle, of fish!--So you +keep, if you can, all I said to you in your head, if possible--and you +goes in there--and I goes out here. + +[_Exit BLOOMSBURY._ + +_Honor._ (curtsying) Thank ye, ma'am. Then all this time I'm sensible +I've been behaving and looking little better than like a fool, or an +_innocent._--But I hope I won't be so bad when the lady shall speak to +me. (_The bell rings._) Oh, the bell summons me in here.--(_Speaks with +her hand on the lock of the door_) The lock's asy enough--I hope I'll +take courage--(_sighs_)--Asier to spake before one nor two, any way--and +asier tin times to the mistress than the maid. [_Exit HONOR._ + + + + +ACT II. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_GERALD O'BLANEY'S Counting-house._ + +_O'BLANEY alone._ + +_O'Bla._ Then I wonder that ould Matthew McBride is not here yet. But +is not this Pat Coxe coming up yonder? Ay. Well, Pat, what success with +Catty? + +_Enter PAT COXE, panting._ + +Take breath, man alive--What of Catty? + +_Pat._ Catty! Oh, murder! No time to be talking of Catty now! Sure the +shupervizor's come to town. + +_O'Bla._ Blood!--and the malt that has not paid duty in the cellar! Run, +for your life, to the back-yard, give a whistle to call all the boys +that's ricking o' the turf, away with 'em to the cellar, out with every +sack of malt that's in it, through the back-yard, throw all into the +middle of the turf-stack, and in the wink of an eye build up the rick +over all, snoog (snug). + +_Pat._ I'll engage we'll have it done in a crack. [_Exit PAT._ + +_O'Bla._ (_calling after him_) Pat! Pat Coxe! man! + +_Re-enter PAT._ + +_O'Bla._ Would there be any fear of any o' the boys _informin_? + +_Pat._ Sooner cut their ears off! [_Exit PAT._ + +_Enter Old McBRIDE, at the opposite side._ + +_Old McB._ (_speaking in a slow, drawling brogue_) Would Mr. Gerald +O'Blaney, the counsellor, be within? + +_O'Bla._ (_quick brogue_) Oh, my best friend, Matthew McBride, is it +you, dear? Then here's Gerald O'Blaney, always at your sarvice. But +shake hands; for of all men in Ireland, you are the man I was aching to +lay my eyes on. And in the fair did ye happen to meet Carver of Bob's +Fort? + +_Old McB._ (_speaking very slowly_) Ay. did I--and he was a-talking +to me, and I was a-talking to him--and he's a very good gentleman, Mr. +Carver of Bob's Fort--so he is--and a gentleman that knows how things +should be; and he has been giving of me, Mr. O'Blaney, a great account +of you, and how you're thriving in the world--and so as that. + +_O'Bla._ Nobody should know that better than Mr. Carver of Bob's +Fort--he knows all my affairs. He is an undeniable honest gentleman, for +whom I profess the highest regard. + +_Old McB._ Why then he has a great opinion of you too, counsellor--for +he has been advising of, and telling of me, O'Blaney, of your proposhal, +sir--and very sinsible I am of the honour done by you to our family, +sir--and condescension to the likes of us--though, to be sure, Honor +McBride, though she is my daughter, is a match for any man. + +_O'Bla._ Is a match for a prince--a Prince Ragent even. So no more about +condescension, my good Matthew, for love livels all distinctions. + +_Old McB._ That's very pretty of you to say so, sir; and I'll repeat it +to Honor. + +_O'Bla._ Cupid is the great liveller, after all, and the only democrat +Daity on earth I'd bow to--for I know you are no democrat, Mr. McBride, +but quite and clane the contrary way. + +_Old McB._ Quite and clane and stiff, I thank my God; and I'm glad, in +spite of the vowel before your name, Mr. O'Blaney, to hear you are of +the same kidney. + +_O'Bla._ I'm happy to find myself agreeable to you, sir. + +_Old McB._ But, however agreeable to me, as I won't deny, it might be, +sir, to see my girl made into a gentlewoman by marriage, I must observe +to you-- + +_O'Bla._ And I'll keep her a jaunting car to ride about the country; +and in another year, as my fortune's rising, my wife should rise with it +into a coach of her own. + +_Old McB._ Oh! if I'd live to see my child, my Honor, in a coach of her +own! I'd be too happy--oh, I'd die contint! + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) No fear!--(_Aloud_) And why should not she ride in +her own coach, Mistress Counsellor O'Blaney, and look out of the windows +down upon the _Roonies_, that have the insolence to look up to her? + +_Old McB._ Ah! you know _that_, then. That's all that's against us, sir, +in this match. + +_O'Bla._ But if _you_ are against Randal, no fear. + +_Old McB._ I am against him--that is, against his family, and all his +seed, breed, and generation. But I would not break my daughter's heart +if I could help it. + +_O'Bla._ Wheugh!--hearts don't break in these days, like china. + +_Old McB._ This is my answer, Mr. O'Blaney, sir: you have my lave, but +you must have hers too. + +_O'Bla._ I would not fear to gain that in due time, if you would stand +my friend in forbidding her the sight of Randal. + +_Old McB._ I will with pleasure, that--for tho' I won't force her to +marry to plase me, I'll forbid her to marry to displase me; and when +I've said it, whatever it is, I'll be obeyed. (_Strikes his stick on the +ground._) + +_O'Bla._ That is all I ax. + +_Old McB._ But now what settlement, counshillor, will you make on my +girl? + +_O'Bla._ A. hundred a year--I wish to be liberal--Mr. Carver will see to +that--he knows all my affairs, as I suppose he was telling you. + +_Old McB._ He was--I'm satisfied, and I'm at a word myself always. You +heard me name my girl's portion, sir? + +_O'Bla._ I can't say--I didn't mind--'twas no object to me in life. + +_Old McB._ (_in a very low, mysterious tone, and slow brogue_) Then five +hundred guineas is some object to most men. + +_O'Bla._ Certainly, sir; but not such an object as your daughter to me: +since we are got upon business, however, best settle all that out of +the way, as you say at once. Of the five hundred, I have two in my hands +already, which you can make over to me with a stroke of a pen. (_Rising +quickly, and getting pen, ink, and books._) + +_Old McB._ (_speaking very slowly_) Stay a hit--no hurry--in life. In +business--'tis always most haste, worse speed. + +_O'Bla._ Take your own time, my good Matthew--I'll be as slow as you +plase--only love's quick. + +_Old McB._ Slow and sure--love and all--fast bind, fast find--three and +two, what does that make? + +_O'Bla._ It used to make five before I was in love. + +_Old McB._ And will the same after you're married and dead. What am I +thinking of? A score of bullocks I had in the fair--half a score sold +in my pocket, and owing half--that's John Dolan, twelve pound tin--and +Charley Duffy nine guineas and thirteen tin pinnies and a five-penny +bit: stay, then, put that to the hundred guineas in the stocking at +home. + +_O'Bla._ (_aside_) How he makes my mouth water: (_Aloud_) May be, +Matthew, I could, that am used to it, save you the trouble of counting? + +_Old McB._ No trouble in life to me ever to count my money--only I'll +trouble you, sir, if you please, to lock that door; bad to be chinking +and spreading money with doors open, for walls has ears and eyes. + +_O'Bla._ True for you. (_Rising, and going to lock the doors._) + +[_Old McBRIDE with great difficulty, and very slowly, draws out of his +pocket his bag of money--looking first at one door, and then at the +other, and going to try whether they are locked, before he unties his +bag._] + +_Old McB._ (_spreads and counts his money and notes_) See me now, I +wrote on some scrap somewhere 59_l._ in notes--then hard cash, twinty +pounds--rolled up silver and gould, which is scarce--but of a hundred +pounds there's wanting fourteen pounds odd, I think, or something +that way; for Phil and I had our breakfast out of a one pound note of +Finlay's, and I put the change somewhere--besides a riband for Honor, +which make a deficiency of fourteen pounds seven shillings and two +pence--that's what's deficient--count it which way you will. + +_O'Bla._ (_going to sweep the money off the table_) Oh! never mind the +deficiency--I'll take it for a hundred plump. + +_Old McB._ (_stopping him_) Plump me no plumps--I'll have it exact, or +not at all--I'll not part it, so let me see it again. + +_O'Bla._ (_aside with a deep sigh, almost a groan_) Oh! when I had had +it in my fist--almost: but 'tis as hard to get money out of this man as +blood out of a turnip; and I'll be lost to-night without it. + +_Old McB._ 'Tis not exact--and I'm exact: I'll put it all up again--(_he +puts it deliberately into the bag again, thrusting the bag into his +pocket_)--I'll make it up at home my own way, and send it in to you by +Phil in an hour's time; for I could not sleep sound with so much in my +house--bad people about--safer with you in town. Mr. Carver says, +you are as good as the Bank of Ireland--there's no going beyond that. +(_Buttoning up his pockets._) So you may unlock the doors and let me +out now--I'll send Phil with all to you, and you'll give him a bit of a +receipt or a token, that would do. + +_O'Bla._ I shall give a receipt by all means--all regular: short +accounts make long friends. (_Unlocks the door._) + +_Old McB._ True, sir, and I'll come in and see about the settlements in +the morning, if Honor is agreeable. + +_O'Bla._ I shall make it my business to wait upon the young lady myself +on the wings of love; and I trust I'll not find any remains of Randal +Rooney in her head. + +_Old McB._ Not if I can help it, depend on that. (_They shake hands._) + +_O'Bla._ Then, fare ye well, father-in-law--that's meat and drink to me: +would not ye take a glass of wine then? + +_Old McB._ Not a drop--not a drop at all--with money about me: I must be +in a hurry home. + +_O'Bla._ That's true--so best: recommind me kindly to Miss Honor, and +say a great dale about my impatience--and I'll be expicting Phil, and +won't shut up till he comes the night. + +_Old McB._ No, don't; for he'll be with you before night-fall. [_Exit +McBRIDE._ + +_O'Bla._ (_calling_) Dan! open the door, there: Dan! Joe! open the door +smart for Mr. McBride! (O'BLANEY _rubbing his hands._) Now I think I +may pronounce myself made for life--success to my parts!--and here's Pat +too! Well, Pat Coxe, what news of the thing in hand? + +_Enter PAT COXE._ + +_Pat._ Out of hand clane! that job's nately done. The turf-rick, sir, +'s built up cliver, with the malt snug in the middle of its stomach--so +were the shupervishor a conjuror even, barring he'd dale with the ould +one, he'd never suspict a sentence of it. + +_O'Bla._ Not he--he's no conjuror: many's the dozen tricks I played him +afore now. + +_Pat._ But, counshillor, there's the big veshel in the little passage--I +got a hint from a friend, that the shuper got information of the spirits +in that from some villain. + +_O'Bla._ And do you think I don't know a trick for that, too? + +_Pat._ No doubt: still, counshillor, I'm in dread of my life that that +great big veshel won't be implied in a hurry. + +_O'Bla._ Won't it? but you'll see it will, though; and what's more, them +spirits will turn into water for the shupervisor. + +_Pat._ Water! how? + +_O'Bla._ Asy--the ould tan-pit that's at the back of the distillery. + +_Pat._ I know--what of it? + +_O'Bla._ A sacret pipe I've got fixed to the big veshel, and the pipe +goes under the wall for me into the tan-pit, and a sucker I have in the +big veshel, which I pull open by a string in a crack, and lets all off +all clane into the tan-pit. + +_Pat._ That's capital!--but the water? + +_O'Bla._ From the pump, another pipe--and the girl's pumping asy, for +she's to wash to-morrow, and knows nothing about it; and so the big +veshel she fills with water, wondering what ails the water that it +don't come--and I set one boy and another to help her--and the pump's +bewitched, and that's all:--so that's settled. + +_Pat._ And cliverly. Oh! counshillor, we are a match for the shuper any +day or night. + +_O'Bla._ For him and all his tribe, _coursing_ officers and all. I'd +desire no better sport than to hear the whole pack in full cry after +me, and I doubling, and doubling, and safe at my form at last. With you, +Pat, my precious, to drag the herring over the ground previous to the +hunt, to distract the scent, and defy the nose of the dogs. + +_Pat._ Then I am proud to sarve you, counshillor. + +_O'Bla._ I know you are, and a very honest boy. And what did you do for +me, with Catty Rooney? + +_Pat._ The best.--Oh! it's I _blarny'd_ Catty to the skies, and then +egged her on, and aggravated her against the McBrides, till I left her +as mad as e'er a one in Bedlam--up to any thing! And full tilt she's off +to Flaherty's, the publican, in her blue jock--where she'll not be long +afore she kicks up a quarrel, I'll engage; for she's sarching the +house for Honor McBride, who is _not_ in it--and giving bad language, I +warrant, to all the McBride faction, who _is_ in it, drinking. Oh! +trust Catty's tongue for breeding a riot! In half an hour, I'll warrant, +you'll have as fine a fight in town as ever ye seen or _hard_. + +_O'Bla._ That's iligantly done, Pat. But I hope Randal Rooney is in it? + +_Pat._ In the thick of it he is, or will be. So I hope your honour did +not forgit to spake to Mr. Carver about that little place for me? + +_O'Bla._ Forgit!--Do I forgit my own name, do you think? Sooner forgit +that _then_ my promises. + +_Pat._ Oh! I beg your honour's pardon--I would not doubt your word; +and to make matters sure, and to make Catty cockahoop, I tould her, and +swore to her, there was not a McBride in the town but two, and there's +twinty, more or less. + +_O'Bla._ And when she sees them twinty, more or less, what will she +think?--Why would you say that?--she might find you out in a lie next +minute, Mr. Overdo. 'Tis dangerous for a young man to be telling more +lies than is absolutely requisite. The _lie superfluous_ brings many an +honest man, and, what's more, many a cliver fellow, into a scrape--and +that's your great fau't, Pat. + +_Pat._ Which, sir? + +_O'Bla._ _That_, sir. I don't see you often now take a glass too much. +But, Pat, I hear you often still are too apt to indulge in a lie too +much. + +_Pat._ Lie! Is it I?--Whin upon my conscience, I niver to my knowledge +tould a lie in my life, since I was born, excipt it would be just to +skreen a man, which is charity, sure,--or to skreen myself, which is +self-defence, sure--and that's lawful; or to oblige your honour, by +particular desire, and _that_ can't be helped, I suppose. + +_O'Bla._ I am not saying again all that--only (_laying his hand on_ +PAT'S _shoulder as he is going out_) against another time, all I'm +warning you, young man, is, you're too apt to think there never can be +lying enough. Now too much of a good thing is good for nothing. [_Exit +O'BLANEY._ + +_PAT, alone._ + +_Pat._ There's what you may call the divil rebuking sin--and now we talk +of the like, as I've heard my _mudther_ say, that he had need of a long +spoon that ates wid the divil--so I'll look to that in time. But whose +voice is that I hear coming up stairs? I don't believe but it's Mr. +Carver--only what should bring him back agin, I wonder now? Here he is, +all out of breath, coming. + +_Enter Mr. CARVER._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Pray, young man, did you happen to see--(_panting for +breath_) Bless me, I've ridden so fast back from Bob's Fort! + +_Pat._ My master, sir, Mr. O'Blaney, is it? Will I run? + +_Mr. Carv._ No, no--stand still till I have breath.--What I want is a +copy of a letter I dropped some where or other--here I think it must +have been, when I took out my handkerchief--a copy of a letter to his +Excellency--of great consequence. (_Mr. CARVER sits down and takes +breath._) + +_Pat._ (_searching about with officious haste_) If it's above ground, +I'll find it. What's this?--an old bill: that is not it. Would it be +this, crumpled up?--"To His Excellency the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland." + +_Mr. Carv._ (_snatching_) No farther, for your life! + +_Pat._ Well then I was lucky I found it, and proud. + +_Mr. Carv._ And well you may be, young man; for I can assure you, on +this letter the fate of Ireland may depend. (_Smoothing the letter on +his knee._) + +_Pat._ I wouldn't doubt it--when it's a letter of your honour's--I know +your honour's a great man at the castle. And plase your honour, I take +this opportunity of tanking your honour for the encouragement I got +about that little clerk's place--and here's a copy of my hand-writing +I'd wish to show your honour, to see I'm capable--and a scholard. + +_Mr. Carv._ Hand-writing! Bless me, young man, I have no time to look +at your hand-writing, sir. With the affairs of the nation on my +shoulders--can you possibly think?--is the boy mad?--that I've time to +revise every poor scholar's copy-book? + +_Pat._ I humbly beg your honour's pardon, but it was only becaase I'd +wish to show I was not quite so unworthy to be under (whin you've time) +your honour's protection, as promised. + +_Mr. Carv._ My protection?--you are not under my protection, +sir:--promised clerk's place?--I do not conceive what you are aiming at, +sir. + +_Pat._ The little clerk's place, plase your honour--that my master, +Counshillor O'Blaney, tould me he spoke about to your honour, and was +recommending me for to your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ Never--never heard one syllable about it, till this moment. + +_Pat._ Oh! murder:--but I expict your honour's goodness will-- + +_Mr. Carv._ To make your mind easy, I promised to appoint a young man to +that place, a week ago, by Counsellor O'Blaney's special recommendation. +So there must be some mistake. + +[_Exit Mr. CARVER._] + + +_PAT, alone._ + +_Pat._ Mistake? ay, mistake on purpose. So he never spoke! so he +lied!--my master that was praching me! And oh, the dirty lie he tould +me! Now I can't put up with that, when I was almost perjuring myself for +him at the time. Oh, if I don't fit him for this! And he got the place +given to another!--then I'll git him as well sarved, and out of this +place too--seen-if-I-don't! He is cunning enough, but I'm cuter nor +he--I have him in my power, so I have! and I'll give the shupervizor a +scent of the malt in the turf-stack--and a hint of the spirits in the +tan-pit--and it's I that will like to stand by innocent, and see how +shrunk O'Blaney's double face will look forenent the shupervizor, when +all's found out, and not a word left to say, but to pay--ruined hand +and foot! Then that shall be, and before nightfall. Oh! one good turn +desarves another--in revenge, prompt payment while you live! + +[_Exit._] + + + + +SCENE II. + + +_McBRIDE'S Cottage._ + +_MATTHEW McBRIDE and HONOR. (MATTHEW with a little table before him, at +dinner._) + +_Old McB._ (_pushing his plate from him_) I'll take no more--I'm done. +[_He sighs._] + +_Honor._ Then you made but a poor dinner, father, after being at the +fair, and up early, and all!--Take this bit from my hands, father dear. + +_Old McB._ (_turning away sullenly_) I'll take nothing from you, Honor, +but what I got already enough--and too much of--and that's ungratitude. + +_Honor._ Ungratitude, father! then you don't see my heart. + +_Old McB._ I lave that to whoever has it, Honor: 'tis enough for me, I +see what you do--and that's what I go by. + +_Honor._ Oh, me! and what did I do to displase you, father? (_He is +obstinately silent; after waiting in vain for an answer, she continues_) +I that was thinking to make all happy, (_aside_) but myself, (_aloud_) +by settling to keep out of the way of--all that could vex you--and to go +to sarvice, to Mrs. Carver's. I thought that would plase you, father. + +_Old McB._ Is it to lave me, Honor? Is it _that_ you thought would plase +me, Honor?--To lave your father alone in his ould age, after all the +slaving he got and was willing to undergo, whilst ever he had strength, +early and late, to make a little portion for you, Honor,--you, that +I reckoned upon for the prop and pride of my ould age--and you expect +you'd plase me by laving me. + +_Honor._ Hear me just if, pray then, father. + +_Old McB._ (_shaking her off as she tries to caress him_) Go, then; go +where you will, and demane yourself going into sarvice, rather than stay +with me--go. + +_Honor._ No, I'll not go. I'll stay then with you, father dear,--say +that will plase you. + +_Old McB._ (_going on without listening to her_) And all for the love +of this Randal Rooney! Ay, you may well put your two hands before your +face; if you'd any touch of natural affection at all, _that_ young man +would have been the last of all others you'd ever have thought of loving +or liking any way. + +_Honor._ Oh! if I could help it! + +_Old McB._ There it is. This is the way the poor fathers is always to be +trated. They to give all, daughter and all, and get nothing at all, +not their choice even of the man, the villain that's to rob 'em of +all--without thanks even; and of all the plinty of bachelors there are +in the parish for the girl that has money, that daughter will go and +pick and choose out the very man the father mislikes beyond all others, +and then it's "_Oh! if I could help it_!"--Asy talking! + +_Honor._ But, dear father, wasn't it more than talk, what I did?--Oh, +won't you listen to me? + +_Old McB_ I'll not hear ye; for if you'd a grain o spirit in your +mane composition, Honor, you would take your father's part, and not be +putting yourself under Catty's feet--the bad-tongued woman, that hates +you, Honor, like poison. + +_Honor._ If she does hate me, it's all through love of her own-- + +_Old McB._ Son--ay--that she thinks too good for you--for _you_, Honor; +you, the Lily of Lismore--that might command the pride of the country. +Oh! Honor dear, don't be lessening yourself; but be a proud girl, as you +ought, and my own Honor. + +_Honor._ Oh, when you speak so kind! + +_Old McB._ And I beg your pardon, if I said a cross word; for I know +you'll never think of him more, and no need to lave home at all for his +sake. It would be a shame in the country, and what would Mrs. Carver +herself think? + +_Honor._ She thinks well of it, then. + +_Old McB._ Then whatever she thinks, she sha'n't have my child from me! +tho' she's a very good lady, and a very kind lady, too. But see now, +Honor--have done with love, for it's all foolishness; and when you come +to be as ould as I am, you'll think so too. The shadows goes all one +way, till the middle of the day, and when that is past, then all the +t'other way; and so it is with love, in life--stay till the sun is going +down with you. + +_Honor._ Then it would be too late to be thinking of love. + +_Old McB._ And too airly now, and there's no good time, for it's all +folly. I'll ax you, will love set the potatoes?--will love make the +rent?--or will love give you a jaunting car?--as to my knowledge, +another of your bachelors would. + +_Honor._ Oh, don't name him, father. + +_Old McB._ Why not--when it's his name that would make a lady of you, +and there'd be a rise in life, and an honour to your family? + +_Honor._ Recollect it was he that would have dishonoured my family, in +me, if he could. + +_Old McB._ But he repints now; and what can a man do but repint, and +offer to make honourable restitution, and thinking of marrying, as +now, Honor dear;--is not that a condescension of he, who's a sort of a +jantleman? + +_Honor._ A sort, indeed--a bad sort. + +_Old McB._ Why, not jantleman _born_, to be sure. + +_Honor._ Nor _bred._ + +_Old McB._ Well, there's many that way, neither born nor bred, but that +does very well in the world; and think what it would be to live in the +big shingled house, in Ballynavogue, with him! + +_Honor._ I'd rather live here with you, father. + +_Old McB._ Then I thank you kindly, daughter, for that, but so would +not _I for_ you,--and then the jaunting-car, or a coach, in time, if he +could! He has made the proposhal for you in form this day. + +_Honor._ And what answer from you, father? + +_Old McB._ Don't be looking so pale,--I tould him he had my consint, if +he could get yours. And, oh! before you speak, Honor dear, think what +it would be up and down in Ballynavogue, and every other place in the +county, assizes days and all, to be Mistress Gerald O'Blaney! + +_Honor._ I couldn't but think very ill of it, father; thinking ill, as +I do, of him. Father dear, say no more, don't be breaking my heart--I'll +never have that man; but I'll stay happy with you. + +_Old McB._ Why, then, I'll be contint with that same; and who +wouldn't?--If it's what you'd rather stay, and _can_ stay contint, +Honor dear, I'm only too happy. (_Embracing her--then pausing._) But for +Randal-- + +_Honor._ In what can you fau't him, only his being a Rooney? + +_Old McB._ That's all--but that's enough. I'd sooner see you in your +coffin--sooner be at your wake to-night, than your wedding with a +Rooney! 'Twould kill me. Come, promise me--I'd trust your word--and +'twould make me asy for life, and I'd die asy, if you'd promise never to +have him. + +_Honor._ Never till you would consent--that's all I can promise. + +_Old McB._ Well, that same is a great ase to my heart. + +_Honor._ And to give a little ase to mine, father, perhaps you could +promise-- + +_Old McB._ What?--I'll promise nothing at all--I'll promise nothing at +all--I'll promise nothing I couldn't perform. + +_Honor._ But this you could perform asy, dear father: just hear your own +Honor. + +_Old McB._ (_aside_) That voice would wheedle the bird off the bush--and +when she'd prefar me to the jaunting-car, can I but listen to her? +(_Aloud_) Well, what?--if it's any thing at all in rason. + +_Honor._ It is in rason entirely. It's only, that if Catty Rooney's-- + +_Old McB._ (_stopping his ears_) Don't name her. + +_Honor._ But she might be brought to rason, father; and if she should be +brought to give up that claim to the bit o' bog of yours, and when all +differs betwix' the families be made up, then you would consent. + +_Old McB._ When Catty Rooney's brought to rason! Oh! go shoe the +goslings, dear,--ay, you'll get my consint then. There's my hand: I +promise you, I'll never be called on to perform that, Honor, jewel. + +_Honor._ (_kissing his hand_) Then that's all I'd ask--nor will I say +one word more, but thank you, father. + +_Old McB._ (_putting on his coat_) She's a good cratur--sorrow better! +sister or daughter. Oh! I won't forget that she prefarred me to the +jaunting-car. Phil shall carry him a civil refusal. I'll send off the +money, the three hundred, by your brother, this minute--that will be +some comfort to poor O'Blaney. + +[_Exit McBRIDE._ + +_Honor._ Is not he a kind father, then, after all?--That promise he gave +me about Catty, even such as it is, has ased my heart wonderfully. Oh! +it will all come right, and they'll all be rasonable in time, even Catty +Rooney, I've great hope; and little hope's enough, even for love to live +upon. But, hark! there's my brother Phil coming. (_A noise heard in +the back-house._) 'Tis only the cow in the bier. (_A knock heard at the +door._) No, 'tis a Christian; no cow ever knocked so soft. Stay till I +open--Who's in it? + +_Randal._ (_from within_) Your own Randal--open quick. + +_Honor._ Oh! Randal, is it you? I can't open the door. + +[_She holds the door--he pushes it half open._ + +_Randal._ Honor, that I love more than life, let me in, till I speak one +word to you, before you're set against me for ever. + +_Honor._ No danger of that--but I can't let you in, Randal. + +_Randal._ Great danger! Honor, and you must. See you I will, if I die +for it! + +[_He advances, and she retires behind the door, holding it against him._ + +_Honor._ Then I won't see you this month again, if you do. My hand's +weak, but my heart's strong, Randal. + +_Randal._ Then my heart's as weak as a child's this minute. Never +fear--don't hold against me, Honor; I'll stand where I am, since you +don't trust me, nor love me--and best so, may be: I only wanted to say +three words to you. + +_Honor._ I can't hear you now, Randal. + +_Randal._ Then you'll never hear me more. Good bye to you, Honor. + +[_He pulls the door to, angrily._ + +_Honor._ And it's a wonder as it was you didn't meet my father as you +came, or my brother. + +_Randal._ (_pushing the door a little open again_) Your brother!--Oh, +Honor! that's what's breaking my heart--(_he sighs_)--that's what I +wanted to say to you; and listen to me. No fear of your father, he's +gone down the road: I saw him as I come the short cut, but he didn't see +me. + +_Honor._ What of my brother?--say, and go. + +_Randal._ Ay, go--for ever, you'll bid me, when I've said. + +_Honor._ What! oh, speak, or I'll drop.--(_She no longer holds the door, +but leans against a table.--RANDAL advances, and looks in._) + +_Randal._ Don't be frightened, then, dearest--it's nothing in life but a +fight at a fair. He's but little hurted. + +_Honor._ Hurted!--and by who? by you, is it?--Then all's over.--(_RANDAL +comes quite in--HONOR, putting her hand before her eyes._)--You may come +or go, for I'll never love you more. + +_Randal._ I expicted as much!--But she'll faint! + +_Honor._ I won't faint: leave me, Mr. Randal. + +_Randal._ Take this water from me, (_holding a cup_) it's all I ask. + +_Honor._ No need. (_She sits down_) But what's this?--(_Seeing his hand +bound up._) + +_Randal._ A cut only. + +_Honor._ Bleeding--stop it. (_Turning from him coldly._) + +_Randal._ Then by this blood--no, not by this worthless blood of +mine--but by that dearest blood that fled from your cheeks, and this +minute is coming back, Honor, I swear--(_kneeling to her._) + +_Honor._ Say what you will, or swear, I don't hear or heed you. And my +father will come and find you there--and I don't care. + +_Randal._ I know you don't--and I don't care myself what happens me. +But as to Phil, it's only a cut in the head he got, that signifies +nothing--if he was not your brother. + +_Honor._ Once lifted your hand against him--all's over. + +_Randal._ Honor, I did not lift my hand against _him_; but I was in the +quarrel with his faction. + +_Honor._ And this your promise to me not to be in any quarrel! No, if +my father consented to-morrow, I'd nivir have you now. (_Rises, and is +going--he holds her._) + +_Randal._ Then you're wrong, Honor: you've heard all against me--now +hear what's for me. + +_Honor._ I'll hear no more--let me go. + +_Randal._ Go, then; (_he lets her go, and turns away himself_) and +I'm going before Mr. Carver, who _will_ hear me, and the truth will +appear--and tho' not from you, Honor, I'll have justice. + +[_Exit RANDAL._ + +_Honor._ Justice! Oh, worse and worse! to make all public; and if once +we go to law, there's an end of love--_for ever._ + +[_Exit HONOR._ + + + + +SCENE III. + + +_O'BLANEY'S House._ + +_O'BLANEY and CATTY ROONEY._ + +_Catty._ And didn't ye hear it, counshillor? the uproar in the town and +the riot?--oh! you'd think the world was throwing out at windows. See my +jock, all tattered! Didn't ye hear! + +_O'Bla._ How could I hear, backwards, as you see, from the street, and +given up to my business? + +_Catty._ Business! oh! here is a fine business--the McBrides have driven +all before them, and chased the Roonies out of Ballynavogue. (_In a tone +of deep despair._) Oh! Catty Rooney! that ever you'd live to see this +day! + +_O'Bla._ Then take this glass (_offering a glass of whiskey_) to comfort +your heart, my good Mrs. Rooney. + +_Catty._ No, thank you, counshillor, it's past that even! ogh! ogh!--oh! +wirrastrew!--oh! wirrastrew, ogh!--(_After wringing her hands, and +yielding to a burst of sorrow and wailing, she stands up firmly._) Now +I've ased my heart, I'll do. I've spirit enough left in me yet, you'll +see; and I'll tell you what I came to you for, counshillor. + +_O'Bla._ Tell me first, is Randal Rooney in it, and is he hurt? + +_Catty._ He was in it: he's not hurt, more shame for him! But, +howsomever, he bet one boy handsomely; that's my only comfort. Our +faction's all going full drive to swear examinations, and get justice. + +_O'Bla._ Very proper--very proper: swear examinations--that's the +course, and only satisfaction in these cases to get justice. + +_Catty._ Justice!--revenge sure! Oh! revenge is sweet, and I'll have +it. Counshillor dear, I never went before Mr. Carver--you know him, +sir--what sort is he? + +_O'Bla._ A mighty good sort of gentleman--only mighty tiresome. + +_Catty._ Ay, that's what I hard--that he is mighty fond of talking to +people for their good. Now that's what I dread, for I can't stand being +talked to for my good. + +_O'Bla._ 'Tis little use, I confess. We Irish is wonderful soon tired +of goodness, if there's no spice of fun along with it; and poor Carver's +soft, and between you and I, he's a little bothered, but, Mrs. Rooney, +you won't repate? + +_Catty._ Repate!--I! I'm neither watch nor repater--I scorn both; and +between you and I, since you say so, counshillor, that's my chiefest +objection to Carver, whom I wouldn't know from Adam, except by +reputation. But it's the report of the country, that he has common +informers in his pay and favour; now that's mane, and I don't like it. + +_O'Bla._ Nor I, Mrs. Rooney. I had experience of informers in the +distillery line once. The worst varmin that is ever encouraged in any +house or country. The very mintion of them makes me creep all over +still. + +_Catty._ Then 'tis Carver, they say, that has the oil of Rhodium for +them; for they follow and fawn on him, like rats on the rat catcher--of +all sorts and sizes, he has 'em. They say, he sets them over and after +one another; and has _lations_ of them that he lets out on the craturs' +cabins, to larn how many grains of salt every man takes with his little +_prates_, and bring information if a straw would be stirring. + +_O'Bla._ Ay, and if it would, then, it's Carver that would quake like +the aspin leaf--I know that. It's no malice at all in him; only just +he's a mighty great poltroon. + +_Catty._ Is that all? Then I'd pity and laugh at him, and I go to him +preferably to any other magistrate. + +_O'Bla._ You may, Mrs. Rooney--for it's in terror of his life he +lives, continually draming day and night, and croaking of carders and +thrashers, and oak boys, and white boys, and peep-o'-day boys, and +united boys, and riband-men, and men and boys of all sorts that have, +and that have not, been up and down the country since the rebellion. + +_Catty._ The poor cratur! But in case he'd prove refractory, and would +not take my examinations, can't I persecute my shute again the McBrides +for the bit of the bog of Ballynascraw, counshillor?--Can't I _harash_ +'em at law? + +_O'Bla._ You can, ma'am, harash them properly. I've looked over your +papers, and I'm happy to tell you, you may go on at law as soon and as +long as you plase. + +_Catty._ (_speaking very rapidly_) Bless you for that word, counshillor; +and by the first light to-morrow, I'll drive all the grazing cattle, +every four-footed _baast_ off the land, and pound 'em in Ballynavogue; +and if they replevy, why I'll distrain again, if it be forty times, I +will go. I'll go on distraining, and I'll advertise, and I'll cant, and +I'll sell the distress at the end of the eight days. And if they dare +for to go for to put a plough in that bit of reclaimed bog, I'll come +down upon 'em with an injunction, and I would not value the expinse +of bringing down a record a pin's pint; and if that went again me, I'd +remove it to the courts above and wilcome; and after that, I'd go into +equity, and if the chancillor would not be my friend, I'd take it over +to the House of Lords in London, so I would as soon as look at 'em; for +I'd wear my feet to the knees for justice--so I would. + +_O'Bla._ That you would! You're an iligant lawyer, Mrs. Rooney; but have +you the sinews of war? + +_Catty._ Is it money, dear?--I have, and while ever I've one shilling +to throw down to ould Matthew McBride's guinea, I'll go on; and every +guinea he parts will twinge his vitals: so I'll keep on while ever I've +a fiv'-penny bit to rub on another--for my spirit is up. + +_O'Bla._ Ay, ay, so you say. Catty, my dear, your back's asy up, but +it's asy down again. + +_Catty._ Not when I've been trod on as now, counshillor: it's then I'd +turn and fly at a body, gentle or simple, like mad. + +_O'Bla._ Well done, Catty (_patting her on the back_). There's my own +pet mad cat--and there's a legal venom in her claws, that every scratch +they'll give shall fester so no plaister in law can heal it. + +_Catty._ Oh, counshillor, now, if you wouldn't be flattering a wake +woman. + +_O'Bla._ Wake woman!--not a bit of woman's wakeness in ye. Oh, my +cat-o'-cats! let any man throw her from him, which way he will, she's on +her legs and at him again, tooth and claw. + +_Catty._ With nine lives, renewable for ever. + +[_Exit CATTY._ + +_O'Bla._ (_alone_) There's a demon in woman's form set to work for me! +Oh, this works well--and no fear that the Roonies and McBrides should +ever come to an understanding to cut me out. Young Mr. Randal Rooney, +my humble compliments to you, and I hope you'll become the willow which +you'll soon have to wear for Miss Honor McBride's pretty sake. But +I wonder the brother a'n't come up yet with the rist of her fortune. +(Calls behind the scenes.) Mick! Jack! Jenny! Where's Pat?--Then why +don't you know? run down a piece of the road towards Ballynascraw, see +would you see any body coming, and bring me word would you see Phil +McBride--you know, flourishing Phil.--Now I'm prepared every way for the +shupervishor, only I wish to have something genteel in my fist for him, +and a show of cash flying about--nothing like it, to dazzle the eyes. + +[_Exit O'BLANEY._ + + + + +ACT III. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_An Apartment in Mr. CARVER'S House. Mr. CARVER seated: a table, pens, +ink, paper, and law-books. A cleric, pen in hand.--On the right-hand +side of Mr. CARVER stands Mrs. CATTY ROONEY.--RANDAL ROONEY beside her, +leaning against a pillar, his arms folded.--Behind Mrs. ROONEY, three +men--one remarkably tall, one remarkably little.--On the left-hand of +Mr. CARVER stand Old MATTHEW McBRIDE, leaning on his stick; beside him, +PHILIP McBRIDE, with his silver-hilted whip in his hand.--A Constable +at some distance behind Mr. CARVER'S chair.--Mr. CARVER looking over and +placing his books, and seeming to speak to his clerk._ + +_Catty._ (_aside to her son_) See I'll take it asy, and be very shivel +and sweet wid him, till I'll see which side he'll lane, and how it will +go with us Roonies--(_Mr. CARVER rising, leans forward with both his +hands on the table, as if going to speak, looks round, and clears his +throat loudly._)--Will I spake now, plase your honour? + +_Old McB._ Dacency, when you see his honour preparing his throat. + +[_Mr. CARVER clears his throat again._ + +_Catty._ (_curtsying between each sentence_) Then I ixpect his honour +will do me justice. I got a great character of his honour. I'd sooner +come before your honour than any jantleman in all Ireland. I'm sure your +honour will stand my _frind_. + +_Clerk._ Silence! + +_Mr. Carv._ Misguided people of Ballynavogue and Ballynascraw-- + +[_At the instant Mr. CARVER pronounces the word "Ballynavogue," CATTY +curtsies, and all the ROONIES, behind her, bow, and answer--_ + +Here, plase your honour. + +[_And when Mr. CARVER says_ "Ballynascraw," _all the McBRIDES bow, and +reply--_ + +Here, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_speaking with pomposity, but embarrassment, and clearing +his throat frequently_) When I consider and look round me, gentlemen, +and when I look round me and consider, how long a period of time I have +had the honour to bear his majesty's commission of the peace for this +county-- + +_Catty._ (_curtsying_) Your honour's a good warrant, no doubt. + +_Mr. Carv._ Hem!--hem!--also being a residentiary gentleman at Bob's +Fort--hem!--hem!--hem!--(_Coughs, and blows his nose._) + +_Catty._ (_aside to her son_) Choking the cratur is with the words he +can't get out. (_Aloud_) Will I spake now, plase your honour? + +_Clerk._ Silence! silence! + +_Mr. Carv._ And when I consider all the ineffectual attempts I have made +by eloquence and otherwise, to moralize and civilize you gentlemen, and +to eradicate all your heterogeneous or rebellious passions-- + +_Catty._ Not a rebel, good or bad, among us, plase your honour. + +_Clerk._ Silence! + +_Mr. Carv._ I say, my good people of Ballynavogue and Ballynascraw, I +stand here really in unspeakable concern and astonishment, to notice at +this fair-time in my barony, these symptoms of a riot, gentlemen, and +features of a tumult. + +_Catty._ True, your honour, see--scarce a symptom of a fature lift in +the face here of little Charley of Killaspugbrone, with the b'ating he +got from them McBrides, who bred the riot, entirely under Flourishing +Phil, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_turning to PHIL McBRIDE._) Mr. Philip McBride, son of old +Matthew, quite a substantial man,--I am really concerned, Philip, to see +you, whom I looked upon as a sort of, I had almost said, _gentleman_-- + +_Catty._ _Gentleman!_ what sort? Is it because of the new topped boots, +or by virtue of the silver-topped whip, and the bit of a red rag tied +about the throat?--Then a gentleman's asy made, now-a-days. + +_Young McB._ It seems 'tis not so asy any way, now-a-days, to make a +_gentlewoman_, Mrs. Rooney. + +_Catty._ (_springing forward angrily_) And is it me you mane, young man? + +_Randal._ Oh! mother, dear, don't be aggravating. + +_Mr. Carv._ Clerk, why don't you maintain silence? + +_Catty._ (_pressing before her son_) Stand back, then, Randal +Rooney--don't you hear _silence_?--don't be brawling before his honour. +Go back wid yourself to your pillar, or post, and fould your arms, +and stand like a fool that's in love, as you are.--I beg your +honour's pardon, but he's my son, and I can't help it.--But about our +examinations, plase your honour, we're all come to swear--here's myself, +and little Charley of Killaspugbrone, and big Briny of Cloon, and Ulick +of Eliogarty--all ready to swear. + +_Mr. Carv._ But have these gentlemen no tongues of their own, madam? + +_Catty._ No, plase your honour, little Charley has no English tongue; he +has none but the native Irish. + +_Mr. Carv._ Clerk, make out their examinations, with a translation; and +interpret for Killaspugbrone. + +_Catty._ Plase your honour, I being the lady, expicted I'd get lave to +swear first. + +_Mr. Carv._ And what would you swear, madam, if you got leave, pray?--be +careful, now. + +_Catty._ I'll tell you how it was out o' the face, plase your honour. +The whole Rooney faction-- + +_Mr. Carv._ _Faction!_--No such word in my presence, madam. + +_Catty._ Oh, but I'm ready to swear to it, plase your honour, in or out +of the presence:--the whole Rooney faction--every Rooney, big or little, +that was in it, was bet, and banished the town and fair of Ballynavogue, +for no rason in life, by them McBrides there, them scum o' the earth. + +_Mr. Carv._ Gently, gently, my good lady; no such thing in my presence, +as scum o' the earth. + +_Catty._ Well, Scotchmen, if your honour prefars. But before a +Scotchman, myself would prefar the poorest spalpeen--barring it be +Phil, the buckeen--I ax pardon (_curtsying_), if a buckeen's the more +honourable. + +_Mr. Carv._ Irrelevant in toto, madam; for buckeens and spalpeens are +manners or species of men unknown to or not cognizable by the eye of +the law; against them, therefore, you cannot swear: but if you have any +thing against Philip McBride-- + +_Catty._ Oh, I have plinty, and will swear, plase your honour, that he +put me in bodily fear, and tore my jock, my blue jock, to tatters. Oh, +by the vartue of this book (_snatching up a book_), and all the books +that ever were shut or opened, I'll swear to the damage of five pounds, +be the same more or less. + +_Mr. Carv._ My good lady, _more or less_ will never do. + +_Catty._ Forty shillings, any way, I'll swear to; and that's a felony, +your honour, I hope? + +_Mr. Carv._ Take time, and consult your conscience conscientiously, my +good lady, while I swear these other men-- + +[_She examines the coat, holding it up to view--Mr. CARVER beckons to +the Rooney party._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Beaten men! come forward. + +_Big Briny._ Not _beaten_, plase your honour, only _bet_. + +_Ulick of Eliogarty._ Only black eyes, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ You, Mr. Charley or Charles Rooney, of Killaspugbrone; you +have read these examinations, and are you scrupulously ready to swear? + +_Catty._ He is, and _will_, plase your honour; only he's the boy that +has got no English tongue. + +_Mr. Carv._ I wish _you_ had none, madam, ha! ha! ha! (_The two McBRIDES +laugh--the ROONIES look grave._) You, Ulick Rooney, of Eliogarty, _are +these_ your examinations? + +_Catty._ He can't write, nor rade writing from his cradle, plase your +honour; but can make his mark equal to another, sir. It has been read to +him any way, sir, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ And you, sir, who style yourself big Briny of Cloon--you +think yourself a great man, I suppose? + +_Catty._ It's what many does that has got less rason, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ Understand, my honest friend, that there is a vast +difference between looking big and being great. + +_Big Briny._ I see--I know, your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ Now, gentlemen, all of you, before I hand you the book to +swear these examinations, there is one thing of which I must warn and +apprize you--that I am most remarkably clear-sighted; consequently there +can be no _thumb kissing_ with me, gentlemen. + +_Big Briny._ We'll not ax it, plase your honour. + +_Catty._ No Rooney, living or dead, was ever guilty or taxed with the +like! (_Aside to her son_) Oh, they'll swear iligant! We'll flog the +world, and have it all our own way! Oh, I knew we'd get justice--or I'd +know why. + +_Clerk._ Here's the book, sir, to swear complainants. + +[_Mr. CARVER comes forward._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Wait--wait; I must hear both sides. + +_Catty._ Both sides! Oh, plase your honour--only bother you. + +_Mr. Carv._ Madam, it is my duty to have ears for all men.--Mr. Philip, +now for your defence. + +_Catty._ He has none in nature, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ Madam, you have had my ear long enough--be silent, at your +peril. + +_Catty._ Ogh--ogh!--silent! + +[_She groans piteously._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Sir, your defence, without any preamble or pre-ambulation. + +_Phil._ I've no defence to make, plase your honour, but that I'm +innocent. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_shaking his head_) The worst defence in law, my good +friend, unless you've witnesses. + +_Phil._ All present that time in the fair was too busy fighting for +themselves to witness for me that I was not; except I'd call upon one +that would clear me entirely, which is that there young man on the +opposite side. + +_Catty._ Oh, the impudent fellow! Is it my son? + +_Old McB._ Is it Randal Rooney? Why, Phil, are you turned _innocent_? + +_Phil._ I am not, father, at all. But with your lave, I call on Randal +Rooney, for he is an undeniable honourable man--I refer all to his +evidence. + +_Randal._ Thank you, Phil. I'll witness the truth, on whatever side. + +_Catty rushes in between them, exclaiming, in a tremendous tone,_ + +If you do, Catty Rooney's curse be upon-- + +_Randal stops her mouth, and struggles to hold his mother back._ + +Oh, mother, you couldn't curse!-- + +[_All the ROONIES get about her and exclaim_, + +Oh, Catty, your son you couldn't curse! + +_Mr. Carv._ Silence, and let _me_ be heard. Leave this lady to me; I +know how to manage these feminine vixens. Mrs. Catherine Rooney, listen +to me--you are a reasonable woman. + +_Catty._ I am not, nor don't pretend to it, plase your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ But you can hear reason, madam, I presume, from the voice of +authority. + +_Catty._ No, plase your honour--I'm deaf, stone deaf. + +_Mr. Carv._ No trifling with me, madam; give me leave to advise you a +little for your good. + +_Catty._ Plase your honour, it's of no use--from a child up I never +could stand to be advised for my good. See, I'd get hot and hotter, +plase your honour, till I'd bounce! I'd fly! I'd burst! and myself does +not know what mischief I mightn't do. + +_Mr. Carv._ Constable! take charge of this cursing and cursed woman, +who has not respect for man or magistrate. Away with her out of my +presence!--I commit her for a contempt. + +_Randal_ (_eagerly_) Oh! plase your honour, I beg your honour's pardon +for her--my mother--entirely. When she is in her rason, she has the +greatest respect for the whole bench, and your honour above all. Oh! +your honour, be plasing this once! Excuse her, and I'll go bail for her +she won't say another word till she'd get the nod from your honour. + +_Mr. Carv._ On that condition, and on that condition only, I am willing +to pass over the past. Fall back, constable. + +_Catty._ (_aside_) Why then, Gerald O'Blaney mislet me. This Carver is a +_fauterer_ of the Scotch. Bad luck to every bone in his body! (_As CATTY +says this her son draws her back, and tries to pacify her._) + +_Mr. Carv._ Is she muttering, constable? + +_Randal._ Not a word, plase your honour, only just telling herself to be +quiet. Oh, mother, dearest, I'll kneel to plase you. + +_Catty._ Kneel! oh, to an ould woman like me--no standing that! So here, +on my hunkers I am, for your sake, Randal, and not a word, good or bad! +Can woman do more? (_She sits with her fingers on her lips._) + +_Mr. Carv._ Now for your defence, Philip: be short, for mercy's sake! +(_pulling out his watch._) + +_Phil._ Not to be detaining your honour too long--I was in Ballynavogue +this forenoon, and was just--that is, Miss Car'line Flaherty was just-- + +_Mr. Carv._ Miss Caroline Flaherty! What in nature can she have to do +with the business? + +_Phil._ Only axing me, sir, she was, to play the flageolets, which was +the rason I was sitting at Flaherty's. + +_Mr. Carv._ Address yourself to the court, young man. + +_Phil._ Sitting at Flaherty's--in the parlour, with the door open, +and all the McBrides which was _in it_ was in the outer room taking a +toombler o' punch I trated 'em to--but not drinking--not a man _out +o' the way_--when in comes that gentlewoman. (_Pointing to Mrs. +ROONEY.--RANDAL groans._) Never fear, Randal, I'll tell it as soft as I +can. + +_Old McB._ Soft, why? Mighty soft cratur ever since he was born, plase +your honour, though he's my son. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_putting his fingers on his lips_) Friend Matthew, no +reflections in a court of justice ever. Go on, Philip. + +_Phil._ So some one having tould Mrs. Rooney lies, as I'm confident, +sir--for she come in quite _mad_, and abused my sister Honor; accusing +her, before all, of being sitting and giving her company to Randal +Rooney at Flaherty's, drinking, and something about a ring, and a +meeting behind the chapel, which I couldn't understand;--but it fired +me, and I stepped--but I recollected I'd promised Honor not to let her +provoke me to lift a hand good or bad--so I stepped across very civil, +and I said to her, says I, Ma'am, it's all lies--some one has been +belying Honor McBride to you, Mrs. Rooney. + +[_CATTY sighs and groans, striking the back of one hand reiteratedly +into the palm of the other--rises--beats the devil's tattoo as she +stands--then claps her hands again._ + +_Mr. Carv._ That woman has certainly more ways of making a noise, +without speaking, than any woman upon earth. Proceed, Philip. + +_Phil._ Depind on it, it's all lies, Mrs. Rooney, says I, ma'am. No, but +_you_ lie, flourishing Phil, says she. With that every McBride to a man, +rises from the table, catching up chairs and stools and toomblers and +jugs to revenge Honor and me. Not for your life, boys, don't _let-drive_ +ne'er a one of yees, says I--she's a woman, and a widow woman, and only +a _scould_ from her birth: so they held their hands; but she giving +tongue bitter, 'twas hard for flesh and blood to stand it. Now, for the +love of heaven and me, sit down all, and be _quite_ as lambs, and finish +your poonch like gentlemen, sir, says I: so saying, I _tuk_ Mrs. Rooney +up in my arms tenderly, as I would a bould child--she screeching +and screeching like mad:--whereupon her jock caught on the chair, +pocket-hole or something, and give one rent from head to _fut_--and that +was the tattering of the jock. So we got her to the door, and there she +spying her son by ill-luck in the street, directly stretches out her' +arms, and kicking my shins, plase your honour, till I could not hold +her, "Murder! Randal Rooney," cries she, "and will you see your own +mother murdered?" + +_Randal._ Them were the very words, I acknowledge, she used, which put +me past my rason, no doubt. + +_Phil._ Then Randal Rooney, being past his rason, turns to all them +Roonies that were _in no condition._ + +_Mr. Carv._ That were, what we in English would call _drunk_, I presume? + +_Randal._ Something very near it, plase your honour. + +_Phil._ Sitting on the bench outside the door they were, when Randal +came up. "Up, Roonies, and at 'em!" cried he; and up, to be sure, they +flew, shillelahs and all, like lightning, daling blows on all of us +McBrides: but I never lifted a hand; and Randal, I'll do him justice, +avoided to lift a hand against me. + +_Randal._ And while I live I'll never forget _that_ hour, nor _this_ +hour, Phil, and all your generous construction. + +_Catty._ (_aside_) Why then it almost softens me; but I won't be made a +fool on. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_who has been re-considering the examinations_) It appears +to me that you, Mr. Philip McBride, did, as the law allows, only _lay +hands softly_ upon complainant, Catherine Rooney; and the Rooneys, as it +appears, struck, and did strike, the first blow. + +_Randal._ I can't deny, plase your honour, we did. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_tearing the examinations_) Then, gentlemen--you +Roonies--_beaten men_, I cannot possibly take your examinations. + +[_When the examinations are torn, the McBRIDES all bow and thank his +honour._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Beaten men! depart in peace. + +_The ROONIES sigh and groan, and after turning their hats several times, +bow, walk a few steps away, return, and seem loath to depart. CATTY +springs forward, holding up her hands joined in a supplicating attitude +to Mr. CARVER._ + +_Randal._ If your honour would be plasing to let her spake now, or she'd +burst, may be. + +_Mr. Carv._ Speak now, woman, and ever after hold your tongue. + +_Catty._ Then I am rasonable now, plase your honour; for I'll put it +to the test--see, I'll withdraw my examinations entirely, and I'll +recant--and I'll go farther, I'll own I'm wrong--(though I know I'm +right)--and I'll beg your pardon, McBrides, if--(but I know I'll not +have to beg your pardon either)--but I say I _will_ beg your pardon, +McBrides, _if_, mind _if_, you will accept my test, and it fails me. + +_Mr. Carv._ Very fair, Mrs. Rooney. + +_Old McB._ What is it she's saying? + +_Phil._ What test, Mrs. Rooney? + +_Randal._ Dear mother, name your test. + +_Catty._ Let Honor McBride be summoned, and if she can prove she took +no ring, and was not behind the chapel with Randal, nor drinking at +Flaherty's with him, the time she was, I give up all. + +_Randal._ Agreed, with all the pleasure in life, mother. Oh, may I run +for her? + +_Old McB._ Not a fut, you sir--go, Phil dear. + +_Phil._ That I will, like a lapwing, father. + +_Mr. Carv._ Where to, sir--where so precipitate? + +_Phil._ Only to fetch my sister. + +_Mr. Carv._ Your sister, sir?--then you need not go far: your sister, +Honor McBride, is, I have reason to believe, in this house. + +_Catty._ So. Under whose protection, I wonder? + +_Mr. Carv._ Under the protection of Mrs. Carver, madam, into whose +service she was desirous to engage herself; and whose advice-- + +_Clerk._ Shall I, if you please, sir, call Honor in? + +_Mr. Carv._ If you please. + +[_A silence.--CATTY stands biting her thumb.--Old McBRIDE leans his +chin upon Us hands on his stick, and never stirs, even his eyes.--Young +McBRIDE looks out eagerly to the side at which HONOR is expected to +enter--RANDAL looking over his shoulder, exclaims--_ + +There she comes!--Innocence in all her looks. + +_Catty._ Oh! that we shall see soon. No making a fool of me. + +_Old McB._ My daughter's step--I should know it. (_Aside_) How my old +heart bates! + +[_Mr. CARVER takes a chair out of the way._ + +_Catty._ Walk in--walk on, Miss Honor. Oh, to be sure, Miss Honor will +have justice. + +_Enter HONOR McBRIDE, walking very timidly._ + +And no need to be ashamed, Miss Honor, until you're found out. + +_Mr. Carv._ Silence! + +_Old McB._ Thank your honour. + +[_Mr. CARVER whispers to his clerk, and directs him while the following +speeches go on._ + +_Catty._ That's a very pretty curtsy, Miss Honor--walk on, pray--all the +gentlemen's admiring you--my son Randal beyant all. + +_Randal._ Mother, I won't bear-- + +_Catty._ Can't you find a sate for her, any of yees? Here's a +stool--give it her, Randal. (_HONOR sits down._) And I hope it won't +prove the stool of repentance, Miss or Madam. Oh, bounce your forehead, +Randal--truth must out; you've put it to the test, sir. + +_Randal._ I desire no other for her or myself. + +[_The father and brother take each a hand of HONOR--support and soothe +her._ + +_Catty._ I'd pity you, Honor, myself, only I know you a McBride--and +know you're desaving me, and all present. + +_Mr. Carv._ Call that other witness I allude to, clerk, into our +presence without delay. + +_Clerk._ I shall, sir. [_Exit clerk._ + +_Catty._ We'll see--we'll see all soon--and the truth will come out, and +shame the _dibbil_ and the McBrides! + +_Randal._ (_looking out_) The man I bet, as I'm a sinner! + +_Catty._ What?--Which?--Where?--True for ye!--I was wondering I did not +see the man you bet appear again ye: and this is he, with the head bound +up in the garter, coming--miserable cratur he looks--who would he be? + +_Randal._ You'll see all soon, mother. + +_Enter PAT COXE, his head bound up._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Come on--walk on boldly, friend. + +_Catty._ Pat Coxe! saints above! + +_Mr. Carv._ Take courage, you are under my protection here--no one will +dare to touch you. + +_Randal_ (_with infinite contempt_) Touch ye! Not I, ye dirty dog! + +_Mr. Carv._ No, sir, you have done enough that way already, it appears. + +_Honor._ Randal! what, has Randal done this? + +_Mr. Carv._ Now observe--this Mr. Patrick Coxe, aforesaid, has taken +refuge with me; for he is, it seems, afraid to appear before his master, +Mr. O'Blaney, this night, after having been beaten: though, as he +assures me, he has been beaten without any provocation whatsoever, by +you, Mr. Randal Rooney--answer, sir, to this matter. + +_Randal._ I don't deny it, sir--I bet him, 'tis true. + +_Pat._ To a jelly--without marcy--he did, plase your honour, sir. + +_Randal._ Sir, plase your honour, I got rason to suspect this man to be +the author of all them lies that was tould backwards and forwards to my +mother, about me and Miss Honor McBride, which made my mother mad, and +driv' her to raise the riot, plase your honour. I charged Pat with +the lies, and he shirked, and could give me no satisfaction, but kept +swearing he was no liar, and bid me keep my distance, for he'd a pocket +pistol about him. "I don't care what you have about you--you have not +the truth about ye, nor in ye," says I; "ye are a liar, Pat Coxe," +says I: so he cocked the pistol at me, saying, _that_ would prove me a +coward--with that I wrenched the pistol from him, and _bet_ him in a +big passion. I own to that, plase your honour--there I own I was wrong +(_turning to HONOR_), to demane myself lifting my hand any way. + +_Mr. Carv._ But it is not yet proved that this man has told any lies. + +_Randal._ If he has tould no lies, I wronged him. Speak, mother--(_COXE +gets behind CATTY, and twitches her gown_), was it he who was the +informer, or not? + +_Catty._ Nay, Pat Coxe, if you lied, I'll not screen you; but if you +tould the truth, stand out like a man, and stand to it, and I'll stand +by you, against my own son even, Randal, if he was the author of the +report. In plain words, then, he, Pat Coxe, tould me, that she, Honor +McBride, gave you, Randal Rooney, the meeting behind the chapel, and you +gave her the ring--and then she went with you to drink at Flaherty's. + +_Honor._ (_starting up_) Oh! who _could_ say the like of me? + +_Catty._ There he stands--now, Pat, you must stand or fall--will you +swear to what you said? (_Old McBRIDE and PHIL approach PAT._) + +_Mr. Carv._ This is not the point before me; but, however, I waive that +objection. + +_Randal._ Oh! mother, don't put him to his oath, lest he'd perjure +himself. + +_Pat._ I'll swear: do you think I'd be making a liar of myself? + +_Honor._ Father--Phil dear--hear me one word! + +_Randal._ Hear her--oh! hear her--go to her. + +_Honor._ (_in a low voice_) Would you ask at what time it was he +pretends I was taking the ring and all that? + +_Old McB._ Plase your honour, would you ask the rascal what time? + +_Mr. Carv._ Don't call him rascal, sir--no _rascals_ in my presence. +What time did you see Honor McBride behind the chapel, Pat Coxe? + +_Pat._ As the clock struck twelve--I mind--by the same token the +workmen's bell rang as usual! that same time, just as I seen Mr. Randal +there putting the ring on her finger, and I said, "_There's the bell +ringing for a wedding_," says I. + +_Mr. Carv._ To whom did you say that, sir? + +_Pat._ To myself, plase your honour--I'll tell you the truth. + +_Honor._ Truth! That time the clock struck twelve and the bell rang, I +was happily here in this house, sir. + +_Honor._ If I might take the liberty to call one could do me justice. + +_Mr. Carv._ No liberty in justice--speak out. + +_Honor._ If I might trouble Mrs. Carver herself? + +_Mr. Carv._ Mrs. Carver will think it no trouble (_rising with dignity_) +to do justice, for she has been the wife to one of his majesty's +justices of the peace for many years. + +[_Sends a servant for Mrs. CARVER._ + +_Mr. Carv._ Mrs. Carver, my dear, I must summon you to appear in open +court, at the suit or prayer of Honor McBride. + +_Enter Mrs. CARVER, who is followed by Miss BLOOMSBURY, on tiptoe._ + +_Mrs. Carv._ Willingly. + +_Mr. Carv._ The case lies in a nutshell, my dear: there is a man who +swears that Honor McBride was behind the chapel, with Randal Rooney +putting a ring on her finger, when the clock struck twelve, and our +workmen's bell rang this morning. Honor avers she was at Bob's Fort with +you: now as she could not be, like a bird, in two places at once--was +she with you? + +_Mrs. Carv._ Honor McBride was with me when the workmen's bell rang, +and when the clock struck twelve, this day--she stayed with me till two +o'clock. + +[_All the ROONIES, except CATTY, exclaim--_ + +Oh, no going beyond the lady's word! + +_Mrs. Carv._ And I think it but justice to add, that Honor McBride has +this day given me such proofs of her being a good girl, a good daughter, +and a good sister, that she has secured my good opinion and good wishes +for life. + +_Mr. Carv._ And mine in consequence. + +_Bloom._ And mine of course. [_HONOR curtsies._ + +[_Old McBRIDE bows very low to Mr. CARVER, and again to Mrs. CARVER. +PHIL bows to Mr. and Mrs. CARVER, and to Miss BLOOMSBURY._ + +_Old McB._ Where are you now, Catty?--and you, Pat, ye unfortinate liar? + +_Pat._ (_falling on his knees_) On me knees I am. Oh, I am an +unfortinate liar, and I beg your honour's pardon this once. + +_Mr. Carv._ A most abandoned liar, I pronounce you. + +_Pat._ Oh! I hope your honour won't abandon me, for I didn't know Miss +Honor was under her ladyship, Mrs. Carver's favour and purtection, or +I'd sooner ha' cut my tongue out clane--and I expict your honour won't +turn your hack on me quite, for this is the first lies I ever was +found out in since my creation; and how could I help, when it was by my +master's particular desire? + +_Mr. Carv._ Your master! honest Gerald O'Blaney! + +_Catty._ O'Blaney!--save us! (_Lifting up her hands and eyes._) + +_Mr. Carv._ Take care, Pat Coxe. + +_Pat._ Mr. O'Blaney, ma'am--plase your honour--all truth now--the +counshillor, that same and no other, as I've breath in my body--for +why should I tell a lie now, when I've no place in my eye, and not a +ha'porth to get by it? I'll confess all. It was by my master's orders +that I should set you, Mrs. Rooney, and your pride up, ma'am, again' +making up with them McBrides. I'll tell the truth now, plase your +honour--that was the cause of the lies I mentioned about the ring and +chapel--I'll tell more, if you'll bind Mr. Randal to keep the pace. + +_Randal._ I?--ye dirty dog!--Didn't I tell ye already, I'd not dirty my +fingers with the likes of you? + +_Pat._ All Mr. Gerald O'Blaney's aim was to ruin Mr. Randal Rooney, +and set him by the ears with that gentleman, Mr. Philip McBride, the +brother, and they to come to blows and outrage, and then be in disgrace +committed by his honour. + +_Randal._ (_turning to_ HONOR McBRIDE) Honor, you saved all--your +brother and I never lifted our hands against one another, thanks be to +Heaven and you, dearest! + +_Catty._ And was there no truth in the story of the chapel and the ring? + +_Pat._ Not a word of truth, but lies, Mrs. Rooney, dear ma'am, of the +master's putting into my mouth out of his own head. + +[_CATTY ROONEY walks firmly and deliberately across the room to HONOR +McBRIDE._ + +_Catty._ Honor McBride, I was wrong; and here, publicly, as I traduced +you, I ax your pardon before his honour, and your father, and your +brother, and before Randal, and before my faction and his. + +[_Both ROONIES and McBRIDES all, excepting Old McBRIDE, clap their +hands, and huzza._ + +_Mr. Carv._ I ought to reprove this acclamation--but this once I let it +pass. + +_Phil._ Father, you said nothing--what do you say, sir? + +_Old McB._ (_never moving_) I say nothing at all. I never doubted Honor, +and knew the truth must appear--that's all I say. + +_Honor._ Oh! father dear--more you will say (_shaking his stick +gently_). Look up at me, and remember the promise you gave me, when +Catty should be rasonable--and is not she rasonable now? + +_Old McB._ I did not hear a word from her about the bog of Ballynascraw. + +_Catty._ Is it the pitiful bit?--No more about it! Make crame cheeses +of it--what care I? 'Twas only for pride I stood out--not _that_ I'm +thinking of now! + +_Old McB._ Well, then, miracles will never cease! here's one in your +favour, Honor; so take her, Randal, fortune and all--a wife of five +hundred. + +_Randal._ (_kneeling_) Oh! happiest of men I am this minute. + +_Catty._ I the same, if she had not a pinny in the world. + +_Mr. Carv._ _Happiest of men!_--Don't kneel or go in to ecstasies now, I +beg, till I know the _rationale_ of this. Was not I consulted?--did not +I give my opinion and advice in favour of another? + +_Old McB._ You was--you did, plase your honour, and I beg your honour's +pardon, and Mr. Counsellor O'Blaney's. + +_Mr. Carv._ And did not you give your consent?--I must think him a very +ill-used person. + +_Old McB._ I gave my consint only in case he could win hers, plase your +honour, and he could _not_--and I could not break my own daughter's +heart, and I beg your honour's pardon. + +_Mr. Carv._ I don't know how that may be, sir, but I gave my approbation +to the match; and I really am not accustomed to have my advice or +opinion neglected or controverted. Yet, on the other hand-- + +_Enter a Footman with a note, which he gives to Mr. CARVER._ + +_Old McB._ (_aside to PHIL_) Say something for me, Phil, can't ye?--I +hav'n't a word. + +_Mr. Carv._ (_rising with a quicker motion than usual_) Bless me! bless +me!--here is a revolution! and a counter revolution!--Here's news will +make you all in as great astonishment as I own I am. + +_Old McB._ What is it? + +_Randal._ I'm made for life--I don't care what comes. + +_Honor._ Nor I: so it is not to touch you, I'm happy. + +_Catty._ Oh! your honour, spake quick, _this time_--I beg pardon! + +_Mr. Carv._ Then I have to confess that _for once_ I have been deceived +and mistaken in my judgment of a man; and what is more, of a man's +_circumstances_ completely--O'Blaney. + +_Old McB._ What of his _circumstances_, oh! sir, in the name of mercy? + +_Mr. Carv._ Bankrupt, at this instant all under seizure to the +supervisor. Mr. Gerald O'Blaney has fled the country. + +_Old McB._ Then, Honor, you are without a penny; for all her fortune, +500_l._, was in his hands. + +_Randal._ Then I'm as happy to have her without a penny--happier I am to +prove my love pure. + +_Catty._ God bless you for my own son! That's our way of thinking, Mr. +McBride--you see it was not for the fortune. + +_Honor._ Oh! Phil, didn't I tell you her heart was right? + +_Catty._ We will work hard--cheer up, McBrides. Now the Roonies and +McBrides has joined, you'll see we'll defy the world and O'Blaney, the +_chate_ of _chates_. + +_Honor._ Randal's own mother! + +_Catty._ Ay, now, we are all one family--now pull together. Don't be +cast down, Phil dear. I'll never call you _flourishing Phil_ again, so +don't be standing on pride. Suppose your shister has not a pinny, she's +better than the best, and I'll love her and fold her to my ould warm +heart, and the daughter of my heart she is now. + +_Honor._ Oh, mother!--for you are my mother now--and happy I am to have +a mother in you. + +_Mr. Carv._ I protest it makes me almost--almost--blow my nose. + +_Catty._ Why, then, you're a good cratur. But who tould you I was a +vixen, dear--plase your honour? + +_Mr. Carv._ Your friend that is gone. + +_Catty._ O'Blaney? + +_Randal._ Frind! He never was frind to none--least of all to hisself. + +_Catty._ Oh! the double-distilled villain!--he tould your honour I was +a vixen, and fond of law. Now would you believe what I'm going to till +you? he tould me of his honour-- + +_Mr. Carv._ Of me, his patron? + +_Catty._ Of you, his patron, sir. He tould me your honour--which is a +slander, as we all here can witness, can't we? by his honour's contempt +of Pat Coxe--yet O'Blaney said you was as fond and proud of having +informers about you as a rat-catcher is of rats. + +_Mr. Carv._ Mistress Catherine Rooney, and all you good people,--there +is a great deal of difference between obtaining information and +encouraging common informers. + +_Catty._ There is, I'm sinsible. (_Aside to her son_) Then he's a +good magistrate--except a little pompous, mighty good. (_Aloud to Mr. +CARVER_) Then I beg your honour's pardon for my bad behaviour, and +bad language and all. 'Twas O'Blaney's fau't--but he's down, and don't +trample on the fallen. + +_Old McB._ Don't defind O'Blaney! Oh! the villain, to rob me of all my +hard arnings. Mrs. Catty, I thank you as much as a heavy heart can, for +you're ginerous; and you, Randal, for your-- + +_Randal._ Is it for loving her, when I can't help it?--who could? + +_Old McB._ (_sighing deeply_) But still it goes against the father's +heart to see his child, his pride, go pinnyless out of his house. + +_Phil._ Then, sir, father dear, I have to tell you she is not +pennyless.--But I would not tell you before, that Randal, and Catty too, +might show themselves what they are. Honor is not pennyless: the three +hundred you gave me to lodge with O'Blaney is safe here. (_Opening his +pocket-book._)--When I was going to him with it as you ordered, by great +luck, I was stopped by this very quarrel and riot in Ballynavogue:--he +was the original cause of kicking up the riot, and was summoned before +your honour,--and here's the money. + +_Old McB._ Oh, she's not pinnyless! Well, I never saw money with so much +pleasure, in all my long days, nor could I think I'd ever live to give +it away with half so much satisfaction as this minute. I here give it, +Honor, to Randal Rooney and you:--and bless ye, child, with the man of +_your_ choice, who is _mine_ now. + +_Mrs. Carv._ (_aside to Mr. CARVER_) My dear, I wish to invite all these +good people to a wedding dinner; but really I am afraid I shall blunder +in saying their names--will you prompt me? + +_Mr. Carv._ (_aside to Mrs. CARVER_) Why really I am not used to be a +prompter; however, I will condescend to prompt _you_, Mrs. Carver. (_He +prompts, while she speaks._) + +_Mrs. Carv._ Mr. Big Briny of Cloon, Mr. Ulick of Eliogarty, Mr. Charley +of Killaspugbrone, and you, Mrs. Catty Rooney, and you, Mr. McBride, +senior, and you, Mr. Philip McBride, no longer _flourishing Phil_; since +you are now all reconciled, let me have the pleasure of giving you a +reconciliation dinner, at the wedding of Honor McBride, who is an honour +to her family, and Randal Rooney, who so well deserves her love. + +_The McBRIDES and ROONIES join in the cry of_ Long life and great luck +to your ladyship, that was always good! + +_Mr. Carv._ And you comprehend that I beg that the wedding may be +celebrated at Bob's Fort. + +_All join in crying_, Long may your honour's honour reign over us in +glory at Bob's Fort! + +_Catty._ (_cracking her fingers_) A fig for the bog of +Ballynascraw!--Now 'tis all Love and no Law! + + + + +THE ROSE, THISTLE, + +AND + +SHAMROCK. + + +A DRAMA. + +IN THREE ACTS. + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + + MEN. + + SIR WILLIAM HAMDEN . . . _An Elderly English Gentleman._ + + CHRISTY GALLAGHER . . . . _Landlord of an Irish village inn._ + + MR. ANDREW HOPE . . . . . _A Drum-major in a Scotch regiment._ + + OWEN LARKEN . . . . . . . _The Son of the Widow Larken + --a Boy of about fifteen._ + + GILBERT . . . . . . . . . _An English Servant of Sir William Hamden._ + + + WOMEN. + + MISS O'HARA . . . . . . . _A young Heiress--Niece of Sir William Hamden._ + + MISS FLORINDA GALLAGHER . _Daughter of Christy Gallagher._ + + THE WIDOW LARKEN . . . . _Mother of Owen and of Mabel._ + + MABEL LARKEN . . . . . . _Daughter of the Widow Larken._ + + BIDDY DOYLE . . . . . . . _Maid of the Inn._ + + + Band of a Regiment. + + +SCENE.--_The Village of Bannow, in Ireland._ + + + + +THE ROSE, + +&c. + + + + +ACT I. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_A Dressing-Room in Bannow-Castle, in Ireland._ + +_Enter Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN, in his morning-gown._ + +_Sir W._ Every thing precisely in order, even in Ireland!--laid, I do +believe, at the very same angle at which they used to be placed on +my own dressing-table, at Hamden-place, in Kent. Exact Gilbert! most +punctual of valet de chambres!--and a young fellow, as he is, too! It +is admirable!--Ay, though he looks as if he were made of wood, and +moves like an automaton, he has a warm heart, and a true English +spirit--true-born English every inch of him. I remember him, when first +I saw him ten years ago at his father's, Farmer Ashfield's, at the +harvest-home; there was Gilbert in all his glory, seated on the top of a +hay-rick, singing, + + "Then sing in praise of men of Kent, + So loyal, brave, and free; + Of Britain's race, if one surpass, + A man of Kent is he!" + +How he brought himself to quit the men of Kent to come to Ireland with +me is wonderful. However, now he is here, I hope he is tolerably happy: +I must ask the question in direct terms; for Gilbert would never speak +till spoken to, let him feel what he might. + +_Sir W._ (_calls_) Gilbert!--Gilbert! + +_Enter GILBERT._ + +_Gilb._ Here, sir. + +_Sir W._ Gilbert, now you have been in Ireland some weeks, I hope you +are not unhappy. + +_Gilb._ No, sir, thank you, sir. + +_Sir W._ But are you happy, man? + +_Gilb._ Yes, sir, thank you, sir. + +[_GILBERT retires, and seems busy arranging his master's clothes: Sir +WILLIAM continues dressing._ + +_Sir W._ (_aside_) _Yes, sir, thank you, sir._ As dry as a chip--sparing +of his words, as if they were his last. And the fellow can talk if he +would--has humour, too, if one could get it out; and eloquence, could I +but touch the right string, the heartstring. I'll try again. (_Aloud_) +Gilbert! + +_Gilb._ Yes, sir. (_Comes forward respectfully._) + +_Sir W._ Pray what regiment was it that was passing yesterday through +the village of Bannow? + +_Gilb._ I do not know, indeed, sir. + +_Sir W._ That is to say, you saw they were Highlanders, and that was +enough for you--you are not fond of the Scotch, Gilbert? + +_Gilb._ No, sir, I can't say as I be. + +_Sir W._ But, Gilbert, for my sake you must conquer this prejudice. +I have many Scotch friends whom I shall go to visit one of these +days--excellent friends they are! + +_Gilb._ Are they, sir? If so be you found them so, I will do my best, +I'm sure. + +_Sir W._ Then pray go down to the inn here, and inquire if any of the +Scotch officers are there. + +_Gilb._ I will, sir. I heard say the officers went off this morning. + +_Sir W._ Then you need not go to inquire for them. + +_Gilb._ No, sir. Only as I heard say, the drum-major and band is to +stay a few days in Bannow, on account of their wanting to enlist a new +bugle-boy. I was a thinking, if so be, sir, you thought well of it, on +account you like these Scotch, I'd better to step down, and see how the +men be as to being comfortable. + +_Sir W._ That's right, do. Pray, have they tolerable accommodations at +the inn in this village? + +_Gilb._ (_smiling_) I can't say much for that, sir. + +_Sir W._ (_aside_) Now I shall set him going. (_Aloud_) What, the inn +here is not like one of our English inns on the Bath road? + +_Gilb._ (_suppressing a laugh_) Bath road! Bless you, sir, it's no +more like an inn on the Bath road, nor on any road, cross or by-road +whatsomdever, as ever I seed in England. No more like--no more like than +nothing at all, sir! + +_Sir W._ What sort of a place is it, then? + +_Gilb._ Why, sir, I'd be ashamed almost to tell you. Why, sir, I never +seed such a place to call an inn, in all my born days afore. First and +foremost, sir, there's the pig is in and out of the kitchen all day +long, and next the calf has what they call the run of the kitchen; so +what with them brute beasts, and the poultry that has no coop, and is +always under one's feet, or over one's head, the kitchen is no place for +a Christian, even to eat his bread and cheese in. + +_Sir W._ Well, so much for the kitchen. But the parlour--they have a +parlour, I suppose? + +_Gilb._ Yes, sir, they have a parlour as they may call it, if they think +proper, sir. But then again, an honest English farmer would be _afeard +on_ his life to stay in it, on account of the ceiling just a coming down +a' top of his head. And if he should go up stairs, sir, why that's as +bad again, and worse; for the half of them there stairs is rotten, and +ever so many pulled down and burnt. + +_Sir W._ Burnt!--the stairs? + +_Gilb._ Burnt, sir, as sure as I'm standing here!--burnt, sir, for fuel +one _scarce year_, as they says, sir. Moreover, when a man does get up +the stairs, sir, why he is as bad off again, and worse; for the floor of +the place they calls the bedchamber, shakes at every step, as if it +was a coming down with one; and the walls has all cracks, from top to +toe--and there's rat-holes, or holes o' some sort or t'other, all in the +floor: so that if a man don't pick his steps curiously, his leg must go +down through the ceiling below. And moreover, there's holes over head +through the roof, sir; so that if it rains, it can't but pour on the +bed. They tell me, they used for to shift the bed from one place to +another, to find, as they say, the dry corner; but now the floor is +grown so crazy, they dare not stir the bed for their lives. + +_Sir W._ Worse and worse! + +_Gilb._ And moreover, they have it now in the worst place in the whole +room, sir. Close at the head of the bed, there is a window with every +pane broke, and some out entirely, and the women's petticoats and the +men's hats just stuck in to _stop all for the night_, as they say, sir. + +[_GILBERT tries to stifle his laughter._ + +_Sir W._ Laugh out, honest Gilbert. In spite of your gravity and your +civility, laugh. There is no harm, but sometimes a great deal of good +done by laughing, especially in Ireland. Laughing has mended, or caused +to be mended, many things that never would have been mended otherwise. + +_Gilb._ (_recovering his gravity_) That's true, I dare to say, sir. + +_Sir W._ Now, Gilbert, if you were to keep an inn, it would be a very +different sort of inn from what you have been describing--would not it? + +_Gilb._ I hope so, sir. + +_Sir W._ I remember when we were talking of establishing you in England, +that your father told me you would like to set up an inn. + +_Gilb._ (_his face brightening_) For sartin, sir, 'tis the thing in the +whole world I should like the best, and be the proudest on, if so be it +was in my power, and if so be, sir, you could spare me. (_Holding his +master's coat for him to put on._) + +_Sir W._ _Could._ spare you, Gilbert!--I _will_ spare you, whether I +can conveniently or not. If I had an opportunity of establishing +advantageously a man who has served me faithfully for ten years, do +you think I would not put myself to a little inconvenience to do +it?--Gilbert, you do not know Sir William Hamden. + +_Gilb._ Thank you, sir, but I do--and I should be main sorry to leave +you, that's sartin, if it was even to be landlord of the best inn in all +England--I know I should. + +_Sir W._ I believe it.--But, stay--let us understand one another--I am +not talking of England, and perhaps you are not thinking of Ireland. + +_Gilb._ Yes, sir, but I am. + +_Sir W._ You are! I am heartily glad to hear it, for then I can serve +you directly. This young heiress, my niece, to whom this town belongs, +has a new inn ready built. + +_Gilb._ I know, sir. + +_Sir W._ Then, Gilbert, write a proposal for this inn, if you wish for +it, and I will speak to my niece. + +_Gilb._ (_bowing_) I thank you, sir--only I hope I shall not stand +in any honest man's light. As to a dishonest man, I can't say I value +standing in his light, being that he has no right to have any, as I can +see. + +_Sir W._ So, Gilbert, you will settle in Ireland at last? I am heartily +glad to see you have overcome your prejudices against this country. How +has this been brought about? + +_Gilb._ Why, sir, the thing was, I didn't know nothing about it, and +there was a many lies told backwards and forwards of Ireland, by a many +that ought to have known better. + +_Sir W._ And now that you have seen with your own eyes, you are happily +convinced that in Ireland the men are not all savages. + +_Gilb._ No, sir, no ways savage, except in the article of some of them +going bare-footed; but the men is good men, most of them. + +_Sir W._ And the women? You find that they have not wings on their +shoulders. + +_Gilb._ No, sir. (_Smiling_) And I'm glad they have not got wings, else +they might fly away from us, which I'd be sorry for--some of them. + +[_After making this speech, GILBERT steps back, and brushes his master's +hat diligently._ + +_Sir W._ (_aside_) Ha! is that the case? Now I understand it all. 'Tis +fair, that Cupid, who blinds so many, should open the eyes of some of +his votaries. (_Aloud._) When you set up as landlord in your new inn, +Gilbert, (_Gilbert comes forward_) you will want a landlady, shall not +you? + +_Gilb._ (_falls back, and answers_) I shall, sir, I suppose. + +_Sir W._ Miss--what's her name? the daughter of the landlord of the +present inn. Miss--what's her name? + +_Gilb._ (_answers without coming forward_) Miss Gallagher, sir. + +_Sir W._ Miss Gallagher?--A very ugly name!--I think it would be charity +to change it, Gilbert. + +_Gilb._ (_bashfully_) It would, no doubt, sir. + +_Sir W._ She is a very pretty girl. + +_Gilb._ She is, sir, no doubt. + +[_Cleaning the brush with his hand, bows, and is retiring._ + +_Sir W._ Gilbert, stay, (_GILBERT returns._) I say, Gilbert, I took +particular notice of this Miss Gallagher, as she was speaking to you +last Sunday. I thought she seemed to smile upon you, Gilbert. + +_Gilb._ (_very bashfully_) I can't say, indeed, sir. + +_Sir W._ I don't mean, my good Gilbert, to press you to say any thing +that you don't choose to say. It was not from idle curiosity that I +asked any questions, but from a sincere desire to serve you in whatever +way you like best, Gilbert. + +_Gilb._ Oh, dear master! I can't speak, you are so good to me, and +always was--too good!--so I say nothing. Only I'm not ungrateful--I know +I'm not ungrateful, that I am not! And as to the rest, there's not a +thought I have, you'd condescend for to know, but you should know it as +soon as my mother--that's to say, as soon as ever I knowed it myself. +But, sir, the thing is this, since you're so good to let me speak to +you, sir-- + +_Sir W._ Speak on, pray, my good fellow. + +_Gilb._ Then, sir, the thing is this. There's one girl, they say, has +set her thoughts upon me: now I don't like she, because why? I loves +another; but I should not choose to say so, on account of its not being +over and above civil, and on account of my not knowing yet for sartin +whether or not the girl I loves loves me, being I never yet could bring +myself to ask her the question. I'd rather not mention her name neither, +till I be more at a sartinty. But since you be so kind, sir, if you be +so good to give me till this evening, sir, as I have now, with the hopes +of the new inn, an independency to offer her, I will take courage, and +I shall have her answer soon, sir--and I will let you know with many +thanks, sir, whether--whether my heart's broke or not. + +[_Exit GILBERT hastily._ + +_Sir W._ (_alone_) Good, affectionate creature! But who would have +thought that out of that piece of wood a lover could be made? This is +Cupid's delight! + +[_Exit Sir WILLIAM._ + + + + +SCENE II. + + +_Parlour of the Inn at Bannow._ + +_Miss FLORINDA GALLAGHER, sola._ + +_Various articles of dress on the floor--a looking-glass propped up on +a chest--Miss GALLAGHER is kneeling before the glass, dressing her long +hair, which hangs over her shoulders._ + +_Miss G._ I don't know what's come to this glass, that it is not +flattering at all _the_ day. The spots and cracks in it is making me +look so full of freckles and crow's feet--and my hair, too, that's such +a figure, as straight and as stiff and as stubborn as a presbyterian. +See! it won't curl for me: so it is in the papillotes it must be; and +that's most genteel. + +[_Sound of a drum at a distance--Miss GALLAGHER starts up and listens._ + +_Miss G._ Hark till I hear! Is not that a drum I hear? Ay, I had always +a quick ear for the drum from my cradle. And there's the whole band--but +it's only at the turn of the avenue. It's on parade they are. So I'll be +dressed and dacent before they are here, I'll engage. And it's my plaid +scarf I'll throw over all, iligant for the Highlanders, and I don't +doubt but the drum-major will be conquist to it at my feet afore +night--and what will Mr. Gilbert say to that? And what matter what +he says?--I'm not bound to him, especially as he never popped me the +question, being so preposterously bashful, as them Englishmen have the +misfortune to be. But that's not my fault any way. And if I happen to +find a more shutable match, while he's turning the words in his mouth, +who's to blame me?--My father, suppose!--And what matter?--Have not I +two hundred pounds of my own, down on the nail, if the worst come to the +worst, and why need I be a slave to any man, father or other?--But he'll +kill himself soon with the whiskey, poor man, at the rate he's going. +Two glasses now for his _mornings_, and his _mornings_ are going on all +day. There he is, roaring. (_Mr. GALLAGHER heard singing._) You can't +come in here, sir. + +[_She bolts the door._ + +_Enter CHRISTY GALLAGHER, kicking the door open._ + +_Christy._ Can't I, dear? what will hinder me?--Give me the _kay_ of the +spirits, if you plase. + +_Miss G._ Oh, sir! see how you are walking through all my things. + +_Christy._ And they on the floor!--where else should I walk, but on the +floor, pray, Miss Gallagher?--Is it, like a fly, on the ceiling you'd +have me be, walking with my head upside down, to plase you? + +_Miss G._ Indeed, sir, whatever way you're walking, it's with your +head upside down, as any body may notice, and that don't plase me at +all--isn't it a shame, in a morning? + +_Christy._ Phoo! don't be talking of shame, you that knows nothing about +it. But lend me the kay of the spirits, Florry. + +_Miss G._ Sir, my name's Florinda--and I've not the kay of the spirits +at all, nor any such vulgar thing. + +_Christy._ Vulgar! is it the kay? + +_Miss G._ Yes, sir, it's very vulgar to be keeping of kays. + +_Christy._ That's lucky, for I've lost all mine now. Every single kay I +have in the wide world now I lost, barring this kay of the spirits, and +that must be gone after the rest too I b'lieve, since you know nothing +of it, unless it be in this here chist. + +[_CHRISTY goes to the chest._ + +_Miss G._ Oh, mercy, sir!--Take care of the looking-glass, which is +broke already. Oh, then, father, 'tis not in the chist, 'pon my word and +honour now, if you'll b'lieve: so don't be rummaging of all my things. + +[_CHRISTY persists in opening the chest._ + +_Christy._ It don't signify, Florry; I've granted myself a gineral +sarch-warrant; dear, for the kay; and, by the blessing, I'll go clane to +the bottom o' this chist. (_Miss GALLAGHER writhes in agony._) Why, what +makes you stand twisting there like an eel or an ape, child?--What, in +the name of the ould one, is it you're afeard on?--Was the chist full +now of love-letter scrawls from the grand signior or the pope himself, +you could not be more tinder of them. + +_Miss G._ Tinder, sir!--to be sure, when it's my best bonnet I'm +thinking on, which you are mashing entirely. + +_Christy._ Never fear, dear! I won't mash an atom of the bonnet, +provided always, you'll mash these apples for me, jewel. (_He takes +apples out of the chest._) And wasn't I lucky to find them in it? Oh, +I knew I'd not sarch this chist for nothing. See how they'll make an +iligant apple-pie for Mr. Gilbert now, who loves an iligant apple-pie +above all things--your iligant self always excipted, dear. + +[_Miss GALLAGHER makes a slight curtsy, but motions the apples from +her._ + +_Miss G._ Give the apples then to the girl, sir, and she'll make you the +pie, for I suppose she knows how. + +_Christy._ And don't you, then, Florry? + +_Miss G._ And how should I, sir?--You didn't send me to the +dancing-school of Ferrinafad to larn me to make apple-pies, I conclude. + +_Christy._ Troth, Florry, 'twas not I sint you there, sorrow foot but +your mother; only she's in her grave, and it's bad to be talking ill +of the dead any way. But be that how it will, Mr. Gilbert must get the +apple-pie, for rasons of my own that need not be mintioned. So, Biddy! +Biddy, girl! Biddy Doyle! + +_Enter BIDDY, running, with a ladle in her hand._ + +_Christy._ Drop whatever you have in your hand, and come here, and be +hanged to you! And had you no ears to your head, Biddy? + +_Biddy._ Sure I have, sir--ears enough. Only they are bothering me so +without, that pig and the dog fighting, that I could not hear ye calling +at-all-at-all. What is it?--For I'm skimming the pot, and can't lave it. + +[_Miss GALLAGHER goes on dressing_ + +_Christy._ It's only these apples, see!--You'll make me an apple-pie, +Biddy, smart. + +_Biddy._ Save us, sir!--And how will I ever get time, when I've the hash +to make for them Scotch yet? Nor can I tell, for the life of me, what it +was I did with the onions and scallions neither, barring by great luck +they'd be in and under the press here--(_running to look under the +press_)--which they are, praised be God! in the far corner. + +[_BIDDY stretches her arm under the press._ + +_Christy._ There's a nice girl, and a 'cute cliver girl, worth a dozen +of your Ferrinafads. + +[_BIDDY throws the onions out from under the press, while he speaks._ + +_Miss G._ Then she's as idle a girl as treads the earth, in or out of +shoe-leather, for there's my bed that she has not made yet, and the +stairs with a month's dust always; and never ready by any chance to do a +pin's worth for one, when one's dressing. + +[_A drum heard; the sound seems to be approaching near._ + +_Christy._ Blood! the last rowl of the drum, and I not got the kay of +the spirits. + +_Miss G._ Oh, saints above! what's gone with my plaid scarf?--and my +hair _behind_, see! + +[_Miss GALLAGHER twists up her hair behind.--BIDDY gathers up the onions +into her apron, and exit hastily.--CHRISTY runs about the room in a +distracted manner, looking under and over every thing, repeating_--The +kay! the kay! the kay! + +_Christy._ For the whiskey must be had for them Scotch, and the bottled +beer too for them English; and how will I get all or any without the +kay? Bones, and distraction! + +_Miss G._ And my plain hanke'cher that must be had, and where will I +find it, in the name of all the damons, in this chaos you've made me +out of the chist, father? And how will I git all in again, before the +drum-major's in it? + +_Christy._ (_sweeping up a heap of things in his arms, and throwing them +into the chest_) Very asy, sure! this ways. + +_Miss G._ (_darting forward_) There's the plaid hanke'cher.--(_She +draws it out from the heap under her father's arm, and smooths it on her +knee._) But, oh! father, how you are making hay of my things! + +_Christy._ Then I wish I could make hay of them, for hay is much wanting +for the horses that's in it. + +_Miss G._ (_putting on her plaid scarf_) Weary on these pins! that I +can't stick any way at all, my hands all trimble so.--Biddy! Biddy! +Biddy! Biddy, can't ye?--(_Re-enter BIDDY, looking bewildered._) Just +pin me behind, girl--smart. + +_Christy._ Biddy is it?--Biddy, girl, come over and help me tramp down +this hay. + +[_CHRISTY jumps into the chest._ + +_Miss G._ Oh, Biddy, run and stop him, for the love of God! with his +brogues and big feet. + +_Biddy._ Oh, marcy! that's too bad, sir; get out o' that if you plase, +or Miss Florry will go mad, sure! and the major that's coming up the +street--Oh, sir, if you plase, in the name of mercy! + +_Christy._ (_jumping out_) Why, then, sittle it all yourself, Biddy, and +success to you; but you'll no more get all in again afore Christmas, +to the best of my opinion, no more, see! than you'd get bottled porter, +froth and all, into the bottle again, once it was out. + +_Miss G._ Such comparisons!--(_tossing back her head._) + +_Christy._ And caparisons!--(_pointing to the finery on the floor._) But +in the middle of it all, lend me the poker, which will answer for the +master-kay, sure!--that poker that is houlding up the window--can't ye, +Biddy? + +[_BIDDY runs and pulls the poker hastily from under the sash, which +suddenly falls, and every pane of glass falls out and breaks._ + +_Christy._ Murder! and no glazier! + +_Miss G._ Then Biddy, of all girls, alive or dead, you're the +awk'ardest, vulgarest, unluckiest to touch any thing at all! + +_Biddy._ (_picking up the glass_) I can't think what's come to the +glass, that makes it break so asy the day! Sure I done it a hundred +times the same, and it never broke wid me afore. + +_Christy._ Well! stick up a petticoat, or something of the kind, and any +way lend me hould of the poker; for, in lieu of a kay, that's the only +frind in need. + +[_Exit CHRISTY with the poker._ + +_Miss G._ There, Biddy, that will do--any how.--Just shut down the lid, +can't ye? and find me my other shoe. Biddy--then, lave that,--come +out o' that, do girl, and see the bed!--run there, turn it up just any +way;--and Biddy, run here,--stick me this tortise comb in the back of my +head--oh! (_screams and starts away from BIDDY._) You ran it fairly into +my brain, you did! you're the grossest! heavy handiest!--fit only to +wait on Sheelah na Ghirah, or the like.--(_Turns away from BIDDY with +an air of utter contempt._) But I'll go and resave the major +properly.--(_Turns back as she is going, and says to BIDDY_) Biddy, +settle all here, can't ye?--Turn up the bed, and sweep the glass and +dust in the dust corner, for it's here I'm bringing him to dinner,--so +settle up all in a minute, do you mind me, Biddy! for your life! + +[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER._ + +_BIDDY, alone_--(_speaking while she puts the things in the room in +order._) + +_Settle up all in a minute!_--asy said!--and _for my life_ too!--Why, +then, there's not a greater slave than myself in all Connaught, or the +three kingdoms--from the time I get up in the morning, and that's afore +the flight of night, till I get to my bed again at night, and that's +never afore one in the morning! But I wouldn't value all one pin's pint, +if it was kind and civil she was to me. But after I strive, and strive +to the utmost, and beyand--(_sighs deeply_) and when I found the +innions, and took the apple-pie off her hands, and settled her behind, +and all to the best of my poor ability for her, after, to go and call +me Sheelah na Ghirah! though I don't rightly know who that Sheelah na +Ghirah was from Adam--but still it's the bad language I get, goes to +my heart. Oh, if it had but plased Heaven to have cast me my lot in the +sarvice of a raal jantleman or lady instead of the likes of these! Now, +I'd rather be a dog in his honour's or her honour's house than lie under +the tongue, of Miss Gallagher, as I do--to say nothing of ould Christy. + +_Miss GALLAGHER'S voice heard, calling,_ + +Biddy! Biddy Doyle! Biddy, can't ye? + +_Biddy._ Here, miss, in the room, readying it, I am. + +_CHRISTY GALLAGHER'S voice heard calling,_ + +Biddy!--Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl! What's come o' that girl, that always +out o' the way idling, when wanted?--Plague take her! + +_Biddy._ Saints above! hear him now!--But I scorn to answer. + +_Screaming louder in mingled voices, CHRISTY'S and Miss GALLAGHER'S,_ + +Biddy! Biddy Doyle!--Biddy, girl! + +_Christy._ (_putting in his head_) Biddy! sorrow take ye! are ye in +it?--And you are, and we cracking our vitals calling you. What is it +you're dallying here for? Stir! stir! dinner! + +[_He draws back his head, and exit._ + +_BIDDY, alone._ + +Coming then!--Sure it's making up the room I am with all speed, and the +bed not made after all!--(_Throws up the press-bed._)--But to live in +this here house, girl or boy, one had need have the lives of nine cats +and the legs of forty. + +[_Exit._ + + + + +SCENE III. + + +_The Kitchen of the Inn._ + +_Miss FLORINDA GALLAGHER and CHRISTY GALLAGHER._ + +_Boys and Men belonging to the Band, in the back Scene._ + +_Christy._ (_to the band_) The girl's coming as fast as possible to get +yees your dinners, jantlemen, and sorrow better dinner than she'll +give you: you'll get all instantly--(_To Miss GALLAGHER_) And am not I +telling you, Florry, that the drum-major did not come in yet at all, but +went out through the town, to see and get a billet and bed for the sick +man they've got. + +_Enter BIDDY, stops and listens._ + +_Miss G._ I wonder the major didn't have the manners to step in, and +spake to the lady first--was he an Irishman, he would. + +_Biddy._ Then it's my wonder he wouldn't step in to take his dinner +first--was he an Englishman, he would. But it's lucky for me and for +him he didn't, becaase he couldn't, for it won't be ready this +three-quarters of an hour--only the Scotch broth, which boiled over. + +[_BIDDY retires, and goes on cooking.--CHRISTY fills out a glass of +spirits to each of the band._ + +_Miss G._ Since the major's not in it, I'll not be staying here--for +here's only riff-raff triangle and gridiron boys, and a black-a-moor, +and that I never could stand; so I'll back into the room. Show the major +up, do you mind, father, as soon as ever he'd come. + +_Christy._ Jantlemen all! here's the king's health, and confusion worse +confounded to his enemies, for yees; or if ye like it better, here's +the plaid tartan and fillibeg for yees, and that's a comprehensive +toast--will give ye an appetite for your dinners. + +[_They drink in silence._ + +_Miss G._ Did ye hear me, father? + +_Christy._ Ay, ay.--Off with ye! + +[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER, tossing back her head.--CHRISTY pours out a glass +of whiskey for himself, and with appropriate graces of the elbow and +little finger, swallows it, making faces of delight._ + +_Christy._ Biddy! Biddy, girl, ye!--See the pig putting in his +nose--keep him out--can't ye? + +_Biddy._ Hurrush! hurrush! (_Shaking her apron._) Then that pig's as +sinsible as any Christian, for he'd run away the minute he'd see me. + +_Christy._ That's manners o' the pig.--Put down a power more turf, +Biddy:--see the jantlemen's gathering round the fire, and has a right +to be _could_ in their knees this St. Patrick's day in the morning--for +it's March, that comes in like a lion. + +[_The band during this speech appear to be speaking to BIDDY.--She comes +forward to CHRISTY._ + +_Christy._ What is it they are whispering and conjuring, Biddy? + +_Biddy._ 'Twas only axing me, they were, could they all get beds the +night in it. + +_Christy._ Beds! ay can yees, and for a dozen more--only the room above +is tinder in the joists, and I would not choose to put more on the floor +than two beds, and one shake-down, which will answer for five; for +it's a folly to talk,--I'll tell you the truth, and not a word of lie. +Wouldn't it be idle to put more of yees in the room than it could hold, +and to have the floor be coming through the parlour ceiling, and so +spoil two good rooms for one night's bad rest, jantlemen?--Well, Biddy, +what is it they're saying? + +_Biddy._ They say they don't understand--can they have beds or not? + +_Christy._ Why, body and bones! No, then, since nothing else will they +comprehend,--_no_,--only five, say,--five can sleep in it. + +[_The band divide into two parties,--Five remain, and the others walk +off in silence._ + +_Biddy._ And it's into the room you'd best walk up, had not yees, five +jantlemen, that sleep? + +[_The five walk into the parlour--CHRISTY preparing to follow, carrying +whiskey bottle and, jug--turns back, and says to BIDDY,_ + +Is it dumb they are all? or _innocents_? + +_Biddy._ Not at all innocents, no more than myself nor yourself. Nor +dumb neither, only that the Scotch tongue can't spake English as we do. + +_Christy._ Oh! if that's all, after dinner the whiskey punch will make +'em spake, I'll engage. + +[_Exit CHRISTY._ + +_Biddy._ 'Tis I that am glad they've taken themselves away, for there's +no cooking with all the men in the fire. + +_Enter Mr. ANDREW HOPE, Drum-major._ + +_Mr. H._ A gude day to you, my gude lassy. + +_Biddy._ The same to you, sir, and kindly. I beg your pardon for not +knowing--would it be the drum-major, sir? + +_Mr. H._ No offence, my gude lass; I am Andrew Hope, and drum-major. +I met some of my men in the street coming down, and they told me they +could not have beds here. + +_Biddy._ No, sir, plase your honour, only five that's in the room +yonder: if you'd be plased to walk up, and you'll get your dinner +immediately, your honour, as fast as can be dished, your honour. + +_Mr. H._ No hurry, my gude lass. But I would willingly see the beds for +my poor fellows, that has had a sair march. + +_Biddy._ Why then, if your honour would take a fool's advice, you'd not +be looking at them beds, to be spoiling your dinner--since, good or bad, +all the looking at 'em in the wide world won't mend 'em one feather, +sure. + +_Mr. H._ My gude girl, that's true. Still I'd like ever to face the +worst. + +_Biddy._ Then it's up that ladder you'll go. + +_Mr. H._ No stairs? + +_Biddy._ Oh, there are stairs--but they are burnt and coming down, and +you'll find the ladder safest and best; only mind the little holes in +the floor, if you plase, your honour. + +[_Mr. HOPE ascends the ladder while she speaks, and goes into the +bedchamber above._ + +_BIDDY, sola._ + +Well, I'm ashamed of my life, when a stranger and foreigner's reviewing +our house, though I'm only the girl in it, and no ways answerable. It +frets me for my country forenent them Scotch and English. (_Mr. HOPE +descends the ladder._) Then I'm sorry it's not better for your honour's +self, and men. But there's a new inn to be opened the 25th, in this +town; and if you return this way, I hope things will be more +agreeable and proper. But you'll have no bad dinner, your honour, any +way;--there's Scotch broth, and Scotch hash, and fried eggs and bacon, +and a turkey, and a boiled leg of mutton and turnips, and _pratees_ +the best, and well boiled; and I hope, your honour, that's enough for a +soldier's dinner, that's not nice. + +_Mr. H._ Enough for a soldier's dinner! ay, gude truth, my lass; and +more than enough for Andrew Hope, who is no ways nice. But, tell me, +have you no one to help you here, to dress all this? + +_Biddy._ Sorrow one, to do a hand's turn for me but myself, plase your +honour; for the daughter of the house is too fine to put her hand to any +thing in life: but she's in the room there within, beyond, if you would +like to see her--a fine lady she is! + +_Mr. H._ A fine lady, is she? Weel, fine or coarse, I shall like to see +her,--and weel I may and must, for I had a brother once I luved as my +life; and four years back that brother fell sick here, on his road +to the north, and was kindly tended here at the inn at Bannow; and he +charged me, puir lad, on his death-bed, if ever fate should quarter me +in Bannow, to inquire for his gude friends at the inn, and to return +them his thanks; and so I'm fain to do, and will not sleep till I've +done so.--But tell me first, my kind lassy,--for I see you are a kind +lassy,--tell me, has not this house had a change of fortune, and fallen +to decay of late? for the inn at Bannow was pictured to me as a bra' +neat place. + +_Biddy._ Ah! that was, may-be, the time the Larkens had it? + +_Mr. H._ The Larkens!--that was the very name: it warms my heart to hear +the sound of it. + +_Biddy._ Ay, and quite another sort of an inn this was, I hear talk, +in their time,--and quite another guess sort, the Larkens from these +Gallaghers. + +_Mr. H._ And what has become of the Larkens, I pray? + +_Biddy._ They are still living up yonder, by the bush of Bannow, in a +snug little place of a cabin--that is, the Widow Kelly. + +_Mr. H._ Kelly!--but I am looking for Larken. + +_Biddy._ Oh, Larken! that's Kelly: 'tis all one--she was a Kelly before +she was married, and in this country we stick to the maiden's name +throughout. + +_Mr. H._ The same in our country--often. + +_Biddy._ Indeed! and her daughter's name is Mabel, after the Kellys; for +you might have noticed, if it ever happened your honour to hear it, an +ould song of Mabel Kelly--_Planxty_ Kelly. Then the present Mabel is +as sweet a cratur as ever the ould Mabel Kelly was--but I must mind the +pratees. (_She goes to lift a pot off the fire._) + +_Mr. H._ Hold! my gude girl, let me do that for you; mine is a strong +haund. + +_Biddy._ I thank your honour,--it's too much trouble entirely for a +jantleman like you; but it's always the best jantleman has the _laste_ +pride.--Then them Kellys is a good race, ould and young, and I love 'em, +root and branch. Besides Mabel the daughter, there's Owen the son, and +as good a son he is--no better! He got an edication in the beginning, +till the troubles came across his family, and the boy, the child, +for it's bare fifteen he is this minute, give up all his hopes and +prospects, the cratur! to come home and slave for his mother. + +_Mr. H._ Ah, that's weel--that's weel! I luve the lad that makes a gude +son.--And is the father _deed_? + +_Biddy._ Ay, dead and deceased he is, long since, and was buried just +upon that time that ould Sir Cormac, father of the young heiress that +is now at the castle above, the former landlord that was over us, died, +see!--Then there was new times and new _takes_, and the widow was turned +out of the inn, and these Gallaghers got it, and all wint wrong and +to rack; for Mrs. Gallagher, that was, drank herself into her grave +unknownst, for it was by herself in private she took it; and Christy +Gallagher, the present man, is doing the same, only publicly, and +running through all, and the house is tumbling over our ears: but he +hopes to get the new inn; and if he does, why, he'll be lucky--and +that's all I know, for the dinner is done now, and I'm going in with +it--and won't your honour walk up to the room now? + +_Mr. H._ (_going to the ladder_) Up here? + +_Biddy._ Oh, it's not _up_ at all, your honour, sure! but down +here--through this ways. + +_Mr. H._ One word more, my gude lassy. As soon as we shall have all +dined, and you shall have ta'en your ane dinner, I shall beg of you, +if you be not then too much tired, to show me the way to that bush of +Bannow, whereat this Widow Larken's cottage is. + +_Biddy._ With all the pleasure in life, if I had not a fut to stand +upon. + +[_Exit Mr. HOPE.--BIDDY follows with a dish smoking hot._ + +_Biddy._ And I hope you'll find it an iligant Scotch hash, and there's +innions plinty--sure the best I had I'd give you; for I'm confident now +he's the true thing--and tho' he is Scotch, he desarves to be Irish, +every inch of him. + +[_Exit BIDDY DOYLE._ + + + + +ACT II. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_An Irish Cabin.--The Kitchen._ + +_Widow LARKEN. On one side of her, MABEL at needle-work; on the other +side, OWEN her son enters, bringing in a spinning-wheel, which he places +before his mother._ + +_Owen._ There, mother, is your wheel mended for you. + +_Mabel._ Oh, as good as new, Owen has made it for you. + +_Widow._ Well, whatever troubles come upon me in this world, have not +I a right to be thankful, that has such good childer left me?--Still it +grieves me, and goes to the quick of my heart, Mabel, dear, that your +brother here should be slaving for me, a boy that is qualified for +better. + +_Owen._ And what better can I be than working for my mother--man or boy? + +_Mabel._ And if he thinks it no slavery, what slavery is it, mother? + +_Owen._ Mother, to-day is the day to propose for the new inn--I saw +several with the schoolmaster, who was as busy as a bee, penning +proposals for them, according as they dictated, and framing letters and +petitions for Sir William Hamden and Miss O'Hara. Will you go up to the +castle and speak, mother? + +_Widow._ No, no--I can't speak, Owen. + +_Owen._ Here's the pen and ink-horn, and I'll sit me down, if you'd +sooner write than speak. + +_Widow._ See, Owen, to settle your mind, I would not wish to get that +inn. + +_Owen._ Not wish to get it! The new inn, mother--but if you had gone +over it, as I have. 'Tis the very thing for you. Neat and compact as a +nutshell; not one of them grand inns, too great for the place, that +never answers no more than the hat that's too big for the head, and that +always blows off. + +_Widow._ No, dear, not the thing for me, now a widow, and your sister +Mabel--tho' 'tis not for me to say--such a likely, fine girl. I'd not be +happy to have her in a public-house--so many of all sorts that would be +in it, and drinking, may be, at fairs and funerals, and no man of the +house, nor master, nor father for her. + +_Owen._ Sure, mother, I'm next to a father for her. Amn't I a brother? +and no brother ever loved a sister better, or was more jealous of +respect for her; and if you'd be pleasing, I could be man and master +enough. + +_Widow._ (_laughing_) You, ye dear slip of a boy! + +_Owen._ (_proudly, and raising his head high_) Slip of a boy as I am, +then, and little as you think of me-- + +_Widow._ Oh! I think a great deal of you! only I can't think you big nor +old, Owen, can I? + +_Owen._ No--nor any need to be big or old, to keep people of all sorts +in respect, mother. + +_Widow._ Then he looked like his father--did not he, Mabel? + +_Mabel._ He did--God bless him! + +_Owen._ Now hear me, mother, for I'm going to speak sense. You need not +listen, Mabel. + +_Mabel._ But it's what I like to listen to sense, especially yours, +Owen. + +_Owen._ Then I can't help it.--You must hear, even if you blush for it. + +_Mabel._ Why would I blush? + +_Owen._ Because you won't be able to help it, when I say Mr. +Gilbert.--See! + +_Mabel._ Oh, dear Owen! that's not fair. (_She falls back a little._) + +_Owen._ Well, mother, it's with you I'm reasoning. If he was your +son-in-law-- + +_Widow._ Hush! that he'll never be. Now, Owen, I'll grow angry if you +put nonsense in the girl's head. + +_Owen._ But if it's in the man's head, it's not a bit nonsense. + +_Mabel._ Owen, you might well say I shouldn't listen to you. + +[_Exit MABEL._ + +_Widow._ There now, you've drove your sister off. + +_Owen._ Well, Gilbert will bring her on again, may be. + +_Widow._ May be--but that _may be_ of yours might lead us all wrong. + +[_She lays her hand on OWEN'S arm, and speaks in a serious tone._ + +_Widow._ Now, dear, don't be saying one word more to her, lest it should +end in a disappointment. + +_Owen._ Still it is my notion, 'tis Mabel he loves. + +_Widow._ Oh! what should you know, dear, o' the matter? + +_Owen._ Only having eyes and ears like another. + +_Widow._ Then what hinders him to speak? + +_Owen._ It's bashfulness only, mother. Don't you know what that is? + +_Widow._ I do, dear. It's a woman should know that best. And it is not +Mabel, nor a daughter of mine, nor a sister of yours, Owen, should +be more forward to understand than the man is to speak--was the man a +prince. + +_Owen._ Mother, you are right; but I'm not wrong neither. And since I'm +to say no more, I'm gone, mother. + +[_Exit OWEN._ + +_Widow._ (_alone_) Now who could blame that boy, whatever he does or +says? It's all heart he is, and wouldn't hurt a fly, except from want of +thought. But, stay now, I'm thinking of them soldiers that is in town. +(_Sighs_) Then I didn't sleep since ever they come; but whenever I'd be +sinking to rest, starting, and fancying I heard the drum for Owen to +go. (_A deep groaning sigh._) Och! and then the apparition of Owen in +regimentals was afore me! + +_Enter OWEN, dancing and singing,_ + + "Success to my brains, and success to my tongue! + Success to myself, that never was wrong!" + +_Widow._ What is it? What ails the boy? Are ye mad, Owen? + +_Owen._ (_capering, and snapping his fingers_) Ay, mad! mad with joy I +am. And it's joy I give you, and joy you'll give me, mother darling. +The new inn's yours, and no other's, and Gilbert is your own too, and +no other's--but Mabel's for life. And is not there joy enough for you, +mother? + +_Widow._ Joy!--Oh, too much! (_She sinks on a seat._) + +_Owen._ I've been too sudden for her! + +_Widow._ No, dear--not a bit, only just give me time--to feel it. And is +it true? And am I in no dream now? And where's Mabel, dear? + +_Owen._ Gone to the well, and Gilbert with her. We met her, and he +turned off with her, and I come on to tell you, mother dear. + +_Widow._ Make me clear and certain; for I'm slow and weak, dear. +Who told you all this good? and is it true?--And my child Mabel +_mavourneen_!--Oh, tell me again it's true. + +_Owen._ True as life. But your lips is pale still, and you all in a +tremble. So lean on me, mother dear, and come out into God's open air, +till I see your spirit come back--and here's your bonnet, and we'll meet +Mabel and Gilbert, and we'll all go up to the castle to give thanks to +the lady. + +_Widow._ (_looking up to heaven_) Thanks! Oh, hav'n't I great reason to +be thankful, if ever widow had! + +[_Exeunt, WIDOW leaning on OWEN._ + + + + +SCENE II. + + +_An Apartment in Bannote Castle._ + +_Footmen bringing in Baskets of Flowers._ + +_Miss O'HARA and Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN._ + +_Clara._ Now, my dear uncle, I want to consult you. + +_Sir W._ And welcome, my child. But if it is about flowers, you could +not consult a worse person, for I scarcely know a rose from a ----. What +is this you have here--a thistle? + +_Clara._ Yes, sir; and that is the very thing I want your opinion about. + +_Sir W._ Well, my dear, all I know about thistles, I think, is, that +asses love thistles--will that do? + +_Clara._ Oh, no, sir--pray be serious, for I am in the greatest hurry to +settle how it is all to be. You know it is St. Patrick's day. + +_Sir W._ Yes, and here is plenty of shamrock, I see. + +_Clara._ Yes, here is the shamrock--the rose, the ever blowing rose--and +the thistle. And as we are to have Scotch, English, and Irish at our +little fete champetre this evening, don't you think it would be pretty +to have the tents hung with the rose, thistle, and shamrock joined? + +_Sir W._ Very pretty, my dear: and I am glad there are to be tents, +otherwise a fete champetre in the month of March would give me the +rheumatism even to think of. + +_Clara._ Oh, my dear sir, not at all. You will be snug and warm in the +green-house. + +_Sir W._ Well, Clara, dispose of me as you please--I am entirely at your +service for the rest of my days. + +_Clara._ Thank you, sir--you are the best of uncles, guardians, and +friends. + +[_Miss O'HARA goes back and appears to be giving directions to the +servants._ + +_Sir W._ Uncle, nature made me--guardian, your father made me--friend, +you made me yourself, Clara. (_Sir WILLIAM comes forward, and speaks as +if in a reverie._) And ever more my friendship for her shall continue, +though my guardianship is over. I am glad I conquered my indolence, and +came to Ireland with her; for a cool English head will be wanting to +guide that warm Irish heart.--And here I stand counsel for prudence +against generosity! + +_Clara._ (_advancing to him playfully_) A silver penny for your +thoughts, uncle. + +_Sir W._ Shall I never teach you economy?--such extravagance! to give a +penny, and a silver penny, for what you may have for nothing. + +_Clara._ Nothing can come of nothing--speak again. + +_Sir W._ I was thinking of you, my--_ward_ no longer. + +_Clara._ Ward always, pray, sir. Whatever I may be in the eye of the +law, I am not arrived at years of discretion yet, in my own opinion, +nor in yours, I suspect. So I pray you, uncle, let me still have the +advantage of your counsel and guidance. + +_Sir W._ You ask for my advice, Clara. Now let me see whether you will +take it. + +_Clara._ I am all attention. + +_Sir W._ You know you must allow me a little prosing. You are an +heiress, Clara--a rich heiress--an Irish heiress. You desire to do good, +don't you? + +_Clara._ (_with eagerness_) With all my heart!--With all my soul! + +_Sir W._ That is not enough, Clara. You must not only desire to do good, +you must know how to do it. + +_Clara._ Since you, uncle, know that so well, you will teach it to me. + +_Sir W._ Dear, flattering girl--but you shall not flatter me out of the +piece of advice I have ready for you. Promise me two things. + +_Clara._ And first, for your first. + +_Sir W._ _Finish whatever you begin._--Good beginnings, it is said, make +good endings, but great beginnings often make little endings, or, in +this country, no endings at all. _Finis coronat opta_--and that crown is +wanting wherever I turn my eyes. Of the hundred magnificent things your +munificent father began-- + +_Clara._ (_interrupting_) Oh, sir, spare my father!--I promise you that +_I_ will finish whatever I begin. What's your next command? + +_Sir W._ Promise me that you will never make a promise to a tenant, nor +any agreement about business, but in writing--and empower me to say that +you will never keep any verbal promise about business--then, none such +will ever be claimed. + +_Clara._ I promise you--Stay!--this is a promise about business: I must +give it to you in writing. + +[_Miss O'HARA sits down to a writing-table, and writes._ + +_Sir W._ (_looking out of the window_) I hope I have been early enough +in giving this my second piece of advice, worth a hundred sequins--for I +see the yard is crowded with gray-coated suitors, and the table here is +already covered with letters and petitions. + +_Clara._ Yes, uncle, but I have not read half of them yet. + +[_Presents the written promise to Sir WILLIAM._ + +_Sir W._ Thank you, my dear; and you will be thankful to me for this +when I am dead and gone. + +_Clara._ And whilst you are alive and here, if you please, uncle. Now, +sir, since you are so kind to say that your time is at my disposal, will +you have the goodness to come with me to these gray-coated suitors, and +let us give answers to these poor petitioners, who, "as in duty bound, +will ever pray." + +[_Takes up a bundle of papers._ + +_Sir W._ (_taking a letter from his pocket_) First, my dear niece, I +must add to the number. I have a little business. A petition to present +from a _protege_ of mine. + +_Clara._ A protege of yours!--Then it is granted, whatever it be. + +_Sir W._ (_smiling_) Recollect your promise, Clara. + +_Clara._ Oh, true--it must be in writing. + +[_She goes hastily to the writing-table, and takes up a pen._ + +_Sir W._ Read before you write, my dear--I insist upon it. + +_Clara._ Oh, sir, when it is a request of yours, how can I grant it +soon enough? But it shall be done in the way you like +best--slowly--deliberately--(_opening the letter_)--in minuet time. And +I will look before I leap--and I'll read before I write. (_She reads +the signature._) Gilbert! Honest Gilbert, how glad I shall be to do any +thing for you, independently of your master! (_Reads on, suddenly lets +the letter drop, and clasps her hands._) Sir--Uncle, my dear uncle, how +unfortunate I am! Why did, not you ask me an hour ago?--Within this hour +I have promised the new inn to another person. + +_Sir W._ Indeed!--that is unfortunate. My poor Gilbert will be sadly +disappointed. + +_Clara._ How vexed I am! But I never should have thought of Gilbert for +the inn: I fancied he disliked Ireland so much that he would never have +settled here. + +_Sir W._ So thought I till this morning. But love, my dear--love is lord +of all. Poor Gilbert! + +_Clara._ Poor Gilbert!--I am so sorry I did not know this sooner. Of all +people, I should for my own part have preferred Gilbert for the inn, he +would have kept it so well. + +_Sir W._ He would so. (_Sighs._) + +_Clara._ I do so blame myself--I have been so precipitate, so foolish, +so wrong--without consulting you even. + +_Sir W._ Nay, my dear, I have been as wrong, as foolish, as precipitate +as you; for before I consulted you, I told Gilbert that I could +almost _promise_ that he should have the inn in consequence of my +recommendation. And upon the strength of that _almost_ he is gone a +courting. My dear, we are both a couple of fools; but I am an old--you +are a young one. There is a wide difference--let that comfort you. + +_Clara._ Oh, sir, nothing comforts me, I am so provoked with myself; and +you will be so provoked with me, when I tell you how silly I have been. + +_Sir W._ Pray tell me. + +_Clara._ Would you believe that I have literally given it for a song? A +man sent me this morning a copy of verses to the heiress of Bannow. The +verses struck my fancy--I suppose because they flattered me; and with +the verses came a petition setting forth claims, and a tenant's right, +and fair promises, and a proposal for the new inn; and at the bottom +of the paper I rashly wrote these words--"_The poet's petition is +granted._" + +_Sir W._ A promise in writing, too!--My dear Clara, I cannot flatter +you--this certainly is not a wise transaction. So, to reward a poet, you +made him an innkeeper. Well, I have known wiser heads, to reward a poet, +make him an exciseman. + +_Clara._ But, sir, I am not quite so silly as they were, for I did not +_make_ the poet an innkeeper--he is one already. + +_Sir W._ An innkeeper already!--Whom do you mean? + +_Clara._ A man with a strange name--or a name that will sound strange to +your English ears--Christy Gallagher. + +_Sir W._ A rogue and a drunken dog, I understand: but he is a poet, and +knows how to flatter the heiress of Bannow. + +_Clara._ (_striking her forehead_) Silly, silly Clara! + +_Sir W._ (_changing his tone from irony to kindness_) Come, my dear +Clara, I will not torment you any more. You deserve to have done a great +deal of mischief by your precipitation; but I believe this time you have +done little or none, at least none that is irremediable; and you have +made Gilbert happy, I hope and believe, though without intending it. + +_Clara._ My dear uncle--you set my heart at ease--but explain. + +_Sir W._ Then, my dear, I shrewdly suspect that the daughter of this +Christy _What-do-you-call-him_ is the lady of Gilbert's thoughts. + +_Clara._ I see it all in an instant. That's delightful! We can pension +off the drunken old father, and Gilbert and the daughter will keep the +inn. Gilbert is in the green-house, preparing the coloured lamps--let us +go and speak to him this minute, and settle it all. + +_Sir W._ Speak to him of his loves? Oh, my dear, you'd kill him on the +spot! He is so bashful, he'd blush to death. + +_Clara._ Well, sir, do you go alone, and I will keep far, far aloof. + +[_Exeunt at opposite sides._ + + + + +SCENE III. + + +_Parlour of the Inn._ + +_CHRISTY and Miss GALLAGHER._ + +_Christy._ (_to Miss GALLAGHER, slapping her on her back_) Hould up your +head, child; there's money bid for you. + +_Miss G._ Lord, father, what a thump on the back to salute one with. +Well, sir, and if money is bid for me, no wonder: I suppose, it's +because I have money. + +_Christy._ That's all the rason--you've hit it, Florry. It's money that +love always looks for now. So you may be proud to larn the news I have +for you, which will fix Mr. Gilbert, your bachelor, for life, I'll +engage--and make him speak out, you'll see, afore night-fall. We +have the new inn, dear!--I've got the promise here under her own +hand-writing. + +_Miss G._ Indeed!--Well, I'm sure I shall be glad to get out of this +hole, which is not fit for a rat or a Christian to live in--and I'll +have my music and my piano in the back parlour, genteel. + +_Christy._ Oh! Ferrinafad, are you there? It's your husband must go to +that expinse, my precious, if he chooses, _twingling_ and _tweedling_, +instead of the puddings and apple pies--that you'll settle betwix yees; +and in the honeymoon, no doubt, you've cunning enough to compass that, +and more. + +_Miss G._ To be sure, sir, and before I come to the honeymoon, I promise +you; for I won't become part or parcel of any man that ever wore a head, +except he's music in his soul enough to allow me my piano in the back +parlour. + +_Christy._ Asy! asy! Ferrinafad--don't be talking about the piano-forte, +till you are married. Don't be showing the halter too soon to the shy +horse--it's with the sieve of oats you'll catch him; and his head once +in the sieve, you have the halter on him clane. Pray, after all, tell +me, Florry, the truth--did Mr. Gilbert ever ax you? + +_Miss G._ La, sir, what a coarse question. His eyes have said as much a +million of times. + +_Christy._ That's good--but not in law, dear. For, see, you could not +_shue_ a man in the four courts for a breach of promise made only with +the eyes, jewel. It must be with the tongue afore witness, mind, or +under the hand, sale, or mark--look to that. + +_Miss G._ But, dear sir, Mr. Gilbert is so tongue-tied with that English +bashfulness. + +_Christy._ Then Irish impudence must cut the string of that tongue, +Florry. Lave that to me, unless you'd rather yourself. + +_Miss G._ Lord, sir--what a rout about one man, when, if I please, I +might have a dozen lovers. + +_Christy._ Be the same more or less. But one rich bachelor's worth a +dozen poor, that is, for the article of a husband. + +_Miss G._ And I dare say the drum-major is rich enough, sir--for all +Scotchmen, they say, is fond of money and _a_conomie; and I'd rather +after all be the lady of a military man. (_Sings._) + + "I'll live no more at home, + But I'll follow with the drum, + And I'll be the captain's lady, oh!" + +_Christy._ Florry! Florry! mind you would not fall between two stools, +and nobody to pity you. + +_Enter BIDDY._ + +_Miss G._ Well, what is it? + +_Biddy._ The bed. I was seeing was the room empty, that I might make it; +for it's only turned up it is, when I was called off to send in dinner. +So I believe I'd best make it now, for the room will be wanting for the +tea-drinking, and what not. + +_Miss G._ Ay, make the bed do, sure it's asy, and no more about +it;--you've talked enough about it to make twinty beds, one harder nor +the other,--if talk would do. (_BIDDY goes to make the bed._) And I'm +sure there's not a girl in the parish does less in the day, for all the +talk you keep. Now I'll just tell all you didn't do, that you ought this +day, Biddy. + +[_While Miss GALLAGHER is speaking to BIDDY, Mr. GALLAGHER opens a +press, pours out, and swallows a dram._ + +_Christy._ Oh, that would be too long telling, Florry, and that'll keep +cool. Lave her now, and you may take your scould out another time. I +want to spake to you. What's this I wanted to say? My memory's confusing +itself. Oh, this was it--I didn't till you how I got this promise of the +inn: I did it nately--I got it for a song. + +_Miss G._ You're joking,--and I believe, sir, you're not over and above +sober. There's a terrible strong smell of the whiskey. + +_Christy._ No, the whiskey's not strong, dear, at-all-at-all!--You +may keep smelling what way you plase, but I'm as sober as a judge, +still,--and, drunk or sober, always knows and knewed on which side +my bread was buttered:--got it for a song, I tell you--a bit of a +complimentary, adulatory scroll, that the young lady fancied--and she, +slap-dash, Lord love her, and keep her always so! writes at the bottom, +_granted the poet's petition_. + +_Miss G._ And where on earth, then, did you get that song? + +_Christy._ Where but in my brains should I get it? I could do that +much any way, I suppose, though it was not my luck to be edicated at +Ferrinafad. + +[_Miss GALLAGHER looks back, and sees BIDDY behind her.--Miss GALLAGHER +gives her a box on the ear._ + +_Miss G._ Manners! that's to teach ye. + +_Biddy._ Manners!--Where would I larn them--when I was only waiting the +right time to ax you what I'd do for a clane pillow-case? + +_Miss G._ Why, turn that you have inside out, and no more about it. + +_Christy._ And turn yourself out of this, if you plase. (_He turns +BIDDY out by the shoulders._) Let me hear you singing _Baltiorum_ in the +kitchen, for security that you're not hearing my sacrets. There, she's +singing it now, and we're snug;--tell me when she stops, and I'll stop +myself. + +_Miss G._ Then there's the girl has ceased singing. There's somebody's +come in, into the kitchen; may be it's the drum-major. I'll go and see. + +[_Exit Miss GALLAGHER._ + +_CHRISTY, solus._ + +There she's off now! And I must after her, else she'll spoil her market, +and my own. But look ye, now--if I shouldn't find her agreeable to marry +this Mr. Gilbert, the man I've laid out for her, why here's a good stick +that will bring her to rason in the last resort; for there's no other +way of rasoning with Ferrinafad. + +[_Exit CHRISTY._ + + + + +SCENE IV. + + +_The Garden of the Widow LARKEN'S Cottage._ + +_OWEN and MABEL._ + +_Owen._ How does my mother bear the disappointment, Mabel about the inn? + +_Mabel._ Then to outward appearance she did not take it so much to heart +as I expected she would. But I'm sure she frets inwardly--because she +had been in such hopes, and in such spirits, and so proud to think how +well her children would all be settled. + +_Owen._ Oh, how sorry I am I told her in that hurry the good news I +heard, and all to disappoint her afterwards, and break her heart with +it! + +_Mabel._ No, she has too good a heart to break for the likes. She'll +hold up again after the first disappointment--she'll struggle on for our +sakes, Owen. + +_Owen._ She will: but Mabel dearest, what do you think of Gilbert? + +_Mabel._ (_turning away_) I strive not to think of him at all. + +_Owen._ But sure I was not wrong there--he told me as much as that he +loved you. + +_Mabel._ Then he never told me that much. + +_Owen._ No! What, not when he walked with you to the well? + +_Mabel._ No. What made you think he did? + +_Owen._ Why, the words he said about you when he met me, was--where's +your sister Mabel? Gone to the well, Gilbert, says I. And do you think +a man that has a question to ask her might make bold to step after her? +says he. Such a man as you--why not? says I. Then he stood still, and +twirled a rose he held in his hand, and he said nothing, and I no more, +till he stooped down, and from the grass where we stood pulled a sprig +of clover. Is not this what _you_ call shamrock? says he. It is, says I. +Then he puts the shamrock along with the rose--How would _that_ do? says +he. + +_Mabel._ Did he say that, Owen? + +_Owen._ Yes, or how would they look together? or, would they do +together? or some words that way; I can't be particular to the word--you +know, he speaks different from us; but that surely was the sense; and I +minded too, he blushed up to the roots, and I pitied him, and answered-- + +_Mabel._ Oh, what did you answer? + +_Owen._ I answered and said, I thought they'd do very well together; +and that it was good when the Irish shamrock and the English rose was +united. + +_Mabel._ (_hiding her face with her hands_) Oh, Owen, that was too +plain. + +_Owen._ Plain! Not at all--it was not. It's only your tenderness makes +you feel it too plain--for, listen to me, Mabel. (_Taking her hand from +her face._) Sure, if it had any meaning particular, it's as strong for +Miss Gallagher as for any body else. + +_Mabel._ That's true:--and may be it was that way he took it,--and may +be it was her he was thinking of-- + +_Owen._ When he asked me for you? But I'll not mislead you--I'll +say nothing; for it was a shame he did not speak out, after all the +encouragement he got from me. + +_Mabel._ Then did he get encouragement from you? + +_Owen._ That is--(_smiling_)--taking it the other way, he might +understand it so, if he had any conscience. Come now, Mabel, when +he went to the well, what did he say to you? for I am sure he said +something. + +_Mabel._ Then he said nothing--but just put the rose and shamrock into +my hand. + +_Owen._ Oh! did he?--And what did you say? + +_Mabel._ I said nothing.--What could I say? + +_Omen._ I wish I'd been with you, Mabel. + +_Mabel._ I'm glad you were not, Owen. + +_Owen._ Well, what did he say next? + +_Mabel._ I tell you he said nothing, but cleared his throat and hemmed, +as he does often. + +_Owen._ What, all the way to the well and back, nothing but hem, and +clear his throat? + +_Mabel._ Nothing in life. + +_Owen._ Why, then, the man's a fool or a rogue. + +_Mabel._ Oh, don't say that, any way. But there's my mother coming in +from the field. How weak she walks! I must go in to bear her company +spinning. + +_Owen._ And I'll be in by the time I've settled all here. + +[_Exit MABEL._ + +_OWEN, solus._ + +Oh! I know how keenly Mabel feels all, tho' she speaks so mild. Then I'm +cut to the heart by this behaviour of Gilbert's:--sure he could not +be so cruel to be jesting with her!--he's an Englishman, and may be he +thinks no harm to jilt an Irishwoman. But I'll show him--but then if he +never asked her the question, how can we say any thing?--Oh! the thing +is, he's a snug man, and money's at the bottom of all,--and since +Christy's to have the new inn, and Miss Gallagher has the money!--Well, +it's all over, and I don't know what will become of me. + +_Enter Mr. ANDREW HOPE._ + +_Mr. H._ My gude lad, may your name be Larken? + +_Owen._ It is, sir--Owen Larken, at your service--the son of the widow +Larken. + +_Mrs. H._ Then I have to thank your family for their goodness to my +puir brother, years ago. And for yourself, your friend, Mr. Christy +Gallagher, has been telling me you can play the bugle? + +_Owen._ I can, sir. + +_Mr. H._ And we want a bugle, and the _pay's_ fifteen guineas; and I'd +sooner give it to you than three others that has applied, if you'll +list. + +_Owen._ Fifteen guineas! Oh! if I could send that money home to my +mother! but I must ask her consint. Sir, she lives convanient, just in +this cabin here--would you be pleased to step in with me, and I'll ask +her consint. + +_Mr. H._ That's right,--lead on, my douce lad--you ken the way. + +[_Exeunt._ + + + + +SCENE V. + + +_Kitchen of the Widow LAKKEN'S Cottage._ + +_A Door is seen open, into an inner Room._ + +_MABEL, alone, (Sitting near the door of the inner room, spinning and +singing_[1].) + +[Footnote 1: This song is set to music by Mr. Webbe.] + + Sleep, mother, sleep! in slumber blest, + It joys my heart to see thee rest. + Unfelt in sleep thy load of sorrow; + Breathe free and thoughtless of to-morrow; + And long, and light, thy slumbers last, + In happy dreams forget the past. + Sleep, mother, sleep! thy slumber's blest; + It joys my heart to see thee rest. + + Many's the night she wak'd for me, + To nurse my helpless infancy: + While cradled on her patient arm, + She hush'd me with a mother's charm. + Sleep, mother, sleep! thy slumber's blest; + It joys my heart to see thee rest. + + And be it mine to soothe thy age, + With tender care thy grief assuage, + This hope is left to poorest poor, + And richest child can do no more. + Sleep, mother, sleep! thy slumber's blest; + It joys my heart to see thee rest. + +_While MABEL is singing the second stanza, OWEN and ANDREW HOPE enter. +Mr. HOPE stops short, and listens: he makes a sign to OWEN to stand +still, and not to interrupt MABEL--while OWEN approaches her on tiptoe._ + +_Mr. H._ (_aside_) She taks my fancy back to dear Scotland, to my ain +hame, and my ain mither, and my ain Kate. + +_Owen._ So Mabel! I thought you never sung for strangers? + +[_MABEL turns and sees Mr. HOPE--She rises and curtsies._ + +_Mr. H._ (_advancing softly_) I fear to disturb the mother, whose +slumbers are so blest, and I'd fain hear that lullaby again. If the +voice stop, the mother may miss it, and wake. + +_Mabel._ (_looking into the room in which her mother sleeps, then +closing the door gently_) No, sir,--she'll not miss my voice now, I +thank you--she is quite sound asleep. + +_Owen._ This is Mr. Andrew Hope, Mabel--you might remember one of his +name, a Serjeant Hope. + +_Mabel._ Ah! I mind--he that was sick with us, some time back. + +_Mr. H._ Ay, my brother that's dead, and that your gude mither was so +tender of, when sick, charged me to thank you all, and so from my soul I +do. + +_Mabel._ 'Twas little my poor mother could do, nor any of us for him, +even then, though we could do more then than we could now, and I'm glad +he chanced to be with us in our better days. + +_Mr. H._ And I'm sorry you ever fell upon worse days, for you deserve +the best; and will have such again, I trust. All I can say is this--that +gif your brother here gangs with me, he shall find a brother's care +through life fra' me. + +_Owen._ I wouldn't doubt you; and that you know, Mabel, would be a great +point, to have a friend secure in the regiment, if I thought of going. + +_Mabel._ _If!_--Oh! what are you thinking of, Owen? What is it you're +talking of going? (_Turning towards the door of her mother's room +suddenly._) Take care, but she'd wake and hear you, and she'd never +sleep easy again. + +_Owen._ And do you think so? + +_Mabel._ Do I think so? Am not I sure of it? and you too, Owen, if you'd +take time to think and feel. + +_Owen._ Why there's no doubt but it's hard, when the mother has reared +the son, for him to quit her as soon as he can go alone; but it is what +I was thinking: it is only the militia, you know, and I'd not be going +out of the three kingdoms ever at all; and I could be sending money home +to my mother, like Johnny Reel did to his. + +_Mabel._ Money is it? Then there's no money you could send her--not the +full of Lough Erne itself, in golden guineas, could make her amends for +the loss of yourself, Owen, and you know that. + +_Mr. H._ And I am not the man that would entice you to list, or gang +with me, in contradiction to your duty at home, or your interest abroad: +so (_turning to_ MABEL) do not look on me as the tempter to evil, nor +with distrust, as you do, kind sister as you are, and like my own Kate; +but hear me coolly, and without prejudice, for it is his gude I wish. + +_Mabel._ I am listening then, and I ask your pardon if I looked a doubt. + +_Mr. H._ The gude mother must wish, above all things here below, the +weal and _advancement_ and the honour of her bairns; and she would +not let the son be tied to her apron-strings, for any use or profit to +herself, but ever wish him to do the best in life for his sel'. Is not +this truth, gude friends--plain truth? + +_Mabel._ It is then--I own that: truth and sense too. + +_Owen._ Now see there, Mabel. + +_Mr. H._ And better for him to do something abroad than digging at home; +and in the army he might get on,--and here's the bugle-boy's pay. + +_Mabel._ Is it a bugle-boy you are thinking of making him? + +_Mr. H._ That's the only thing I could make him. I wish I could offer +better. + +_Mabel._ Then, I thank you, sir, and I wouldn't doubt ye--and it would +be very well for a common boy that could only dig; but my brother's no +common boy, sir. + +_Owen._ Oh, Mabel! + +_Mabel._ Hush, Owen! for it's the truth I'm telling, and if to your face +I can't help it. You may hide the face, but I won't hide the truth. + +_Mr. H._ Then speak on, my warm-hearted lassy, speak on. + +_Mabel._ Then, sir, he got an edication while ever my poor father lived, +and no better scholar, they said, for the teaching he got:--but all was +given over when the father died, and the troubles came, and Owen, as he +ought, give himself up intirely for my mother, to help her, a widow. But +it's not digging and slaving he is to be always:--it's with the head, +as my father used to say, he'll make more than the hands; and we hope +to get a clerk's place for him sometime, or there will be a schoolmaster +wanting in this town, and that will be what he would be fit for; and +not--but it's not civil, before you, a soldier, sir, to say the rest. + +_Mr. H._ Fear not, you will not give offence. + +_Mabel._ And not to be spending his breath blowing through a horn all +his days, for the sake of wearing a fine red coat. I beg your pardon +again, sir, if I say too much--but it's to save my brother and my +mother. + +_Mr. H._ I like you the better for all you've said for both. + +_Owen._ And I'm off entirely:--I'll not list, I thank you, sir. + +[_MABEL clasps her hands joyfully, then embraces her brother._ + +_Mr. H._ And I'll not ask you to list--and I would not have asked it at +all, but that a friend of yours told me it would be the greatest service +I could do you, and that it was the thing of all others you wished. + +_Owen._ That friend was Christy Gallagher: but he was mistaken--that's +all. + +_Mabel._ I hope that's all. But I've no dependance on him for a friend, +nor has my mother. + +_Owen._ Why, he was saying to me, and I could not say against it, that +he had a right to propose for the inn if he could, though Gilbert and we +wanted to get it. + +_Mabel._ Then I wonder why Christy should be preferred rather than my +mother. + +_Owen._ Then that's a wonder--and I can't understand how that was. + +_Mr. H._ I have one more thing to say, or to do, which I should like +better, if you'll give me leave. If there's a difficulty aboot the rent +of this new inn that you are talking of, I have a little spare money, +and you're welcome to it:--I consider it as a debt of my brother's, +which I am bound to pay; so no obligation in life--tell me how much will +do. + +[_Takes out his purse._ + +_Owen_ and _Mabel._ You are very kind--you are very good. + +_Mr. H._ No, I am not--I am only just. Say only how much will do. + +_Owen._ Alas! money won't do now, sir. It's all settled, and Christy +says he has a promise of it in writing from the lady. + +_Mr. H._ May be this Christy might sell his interest, and we will see--I +will not say till I find I can do. Fare ye weel till we meet, as I hope +we shall, at the dance that's to be at the castle. The band is to be +there, and I with them, and I shall hope for this lassy's hand in the +dance. + +_Mabel._ (_aside_) And Gilbert that never asked me! (_Aloud_) I thank +you kindly, sir, I sha'n't go to the dance at-all-at-all, I believe--my +mother had better take her rest, and I must stay with her--a good night +to you kindly. + +[_Exit MABEL into her mother's room._ + +_Mr. H._ This sister of yours would leave me no heart to carry back to +Scotland, I fear, but that I'm a married man already, and have my own +luve--a Kate of my own, that's as fair as she, and as gude, and that's +saying much. + +_Owen._ (_aside_) Much more than Florinda Gallagher will like to hear. + +_Mr. H._ I shall thank you if you will teach me, for my Kate, the words +of that song your sister was singing when we came in. + +_Owen._ I believe it's to flatter me you say this, for that song is my +writing. + +_Mr. H._ Yours? + +_Owen._ Mine, such as it is. + +_Mr. H._ Sic a ane as you are then, I'm glad you are not to be a +bugle-boy: your sister is right. + +_Owen._ I'll teach you the words as we go along. + +_Mr. H._ Do so;--but mind now this song-writing do not lead you to +idleness. We must see to turn your edication to good account. (_Aside_) +Oh, I will never rest till I pay my brother's debt, some way or other, +to this gude family. + +[_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT III. + + + + +SCENE I. + + +_CHRISTY alone._ + +So this Scotchman could not list Owen. _Couldn't_ nor _wouldn't_, that's +what he says; and the Scotchman looked very hard at me as he spoke: +moreover, I seen Mr. Gilbert and him with their two heads close +together, and that's a wonder, for I know Gilbert's not nat'rally fond +of any sort of Scotchman. There's something brewing:--I must have my +wits about me, and see and keep sober this night, if I can, any way. +From the first I suspicted Mr. Gilbert had his heart on Mabel. (BIDDY +DOYLE _puts her head in_) Biddy Doyle! what the mischief does that head +of yours do there? + +_Biddy._ Nothing in life, sir: only just to see who was in it, along +with yourself, because I thought I hard talking enough for two. + +_Christy._ You, girl, have curiosity enough for two, and two dozen, and +too much! So plase take your head and yourself out of that, and don't +be overharing my private thoughts; for that was all the talking ye hard, +and _my_ thoughts can't abide listeners. + +_Biddy._ I'm no listener--I ax your pardon, sir: I scorn to listen to +your thoughts, or your words even. + +[_Exit BIDDY._ + +_Christy._ That girl has set me topsy-turvy. Where was I?--Oh! this was +it. Suppose even, I say, suppose this Gilbert's fancy should stick to +Mabel, I might manage him, nevertheless. I've a great advantage and +prerogative over this Englishman, in his having never been dipped in the +Shannon. He is so _under cow_ with bashfulness now, that I don't doubt +but what in one of his confusions I could asy bring him to say Yes in +the wrong place; and sooner than come to a perplexing refusal of a +young lady, he might, I'll engage, be brought about to marry the girl he +didn't like, in lieu of the girl he did. We shall see--but hark! I hear +Ferrinafad's voice, singing, and I must join, and see how the thing's +going on, or going off. + +[_Exit._ + + + + +SCENE II. + + +_Miss GALLAGHER and GILBERT at a Tea-Table._ + +_Gilb._ (_aside_) Now would I give five golden guineas this minute that +her father, or any mortal man, woman, or child in the varsal world, +would come in and say something; for 'tis so awk'ard for I to be sitting +here, and I nothing to say to she. + +_Miss G._ (_aside_) When will the man pay me the compliment to speak, +I wonder? Wouldn't any body think he'd no tongue in that mouth of his, +screwed up, and blushing from ear to ear? + +_Enter CHRISTY._ + +_Christy._ Hoo! hoo! hoo!--How's this--both of yees mute as fishes the +moment I come in? Why I hard you just now, when my back was turned, +singing like turtle-doves--didn't I, Florry? + +_Miss G._ Indeed, sir, as to turtle-doves, I'm not sinsible; but Mr. +Gilbert requisted of me to be favouring him with a song, which I was +complying with, though I'm not used to be singing without my piano. + +_Christy._ (_aside_) Sorrow take your piano! you're not come there yet. + +_Miss G._ I wonder the drum-major isn't come yet. Does he expect tea +can be keeping hot for him to the end of time? He'll have nothing but +slop-dash, though he's a very genteel man. I'm partial to the military +school, I own, and a High lander too is always my white-headed boy. + +_Gilb._ (_astonished_) Her white-headed boy!--Now, if I was to be hanged +for it, I don't know what that means. + +_Miss G._ Now where can you have lived, Mr. Gilbert, not to know _that_? + +_Christy._ (_aside_) By the mass, he's such a matter-o'-fact-man, I +can't get round him with all my wit. + +_Miss G._ Here's the drum-major! Scarlet's asy seen at a distance, +that's one comfort! + +_Enter Mr. HOPE._ + +_Mr. H._ I'm late, Miss Florinda, I fear, for the tea-table; but I had a +wee-wee bit of business to do for a young friend, that kept me. + +_Miss G._ No matter, major, my tapot defies you. Take a cup a tea. Are +you fond of music, major? + +_Mr. H._ Very fond of music, ma'am--do you sing or play? + +_Miss G._ I do play--I plead guilty to that I own. But in this hole that +we are in, there's no room fitting for my piano. However, in the new inn +which we have got now, I'll fix my piano iligant in the back-parlour. + +_Mr. H._ In the mean time, Miss Florinda, will you favour us with a +song? + +_Christy._ And I'll be making the punch, for I'm no songstress. Biddy! +Biddy Doyle! hot water in a jerry. + +_Miss G._ Indeed I'm not used to sing without my piano; but, to oblige +the major, I'll sing by note. + +_Miss GALLAGHER sings._ + + Softly breathing through the heart, + When lovers meet no more to part; + That purity of soul be mine, + Which speaks in music's sound divine. + + 'Midst trees and streams of constant love, + That's whispered by the turtle-dove; + Sweet cooing cushat all my pray'r, + Is love in elegance to share. + +_Mr. H._ That's what I call fine, now! Very fine that. + +[_GILBERT nods._ + +_Miss G._ (_aside_) Look at that Englishman, now, that hasn't a word +of compliment to throw to a dog, but only a nod. (_Aloud_) 'Tis the +military that has always the souls for music, and for the ladies--and I +think, gentlemen, I may step for'ard, and say I'm entitled to call upon +you now:--Mr. Gilbert, if you've ever a love-song in your composition. + +_Gilb._ Love-song I can't say, ma'am; but such as I have--I'm no great +hand at composition--but I have one song--they call it, _My choice of a +wife._ + +_Miss G._ Pray let's have it, sir. + +_Christy._ Now for it, by Jabus. + +_Mr. H._ Give it us, Mr. Gilbert. + +_Enter BIDDY with hot water, and exit._ + +_GILBERT sings._ + + There's none but a fool will wed on a sudden, + Or take a fine miss that can't make a pudding; + If he get such a wife, what would a man gain, O! + But a few ballad-tunes on a wretched piano? + + Some ladies than peacocks are twenty times prouder, + Some ladies than thunder are twenty times louder; + But I'll have a wife that's obliging and civil-- + For me, your fine ladies may go to the devil! + +_Miss G._ (_rising_) Sir, I comprehend your song, coarse as it is, and +its moral to boot, and I humbly thank ye, sir. (_She curtsies low._) And +if I live a hundred year, and ninety-nine to the back of that, sir, I +will remember it to you, sir. + +_Christy._ (_leaving the punch which he had been making, comes forward +with a lemon in his hand_) Wheugh! wheugh! wheugh! Ferrinafad! + +_Gilb._ (_aside_) Ferrinafad!--the man's mad! + +_Miss G._ Father, go your ways back to your punch. Here stands the only +_raal_ gentleman in company (_pointing to the drum-major_), if I'm to +make the election. + +_Christy._ Major, you can't but drink her health for that compliment. +[_He presents a glass of punch to Mr. HOPE._ + +_Mr. H._ Miss Gallagher's health, and a gude husband to her, and _soon_. + +_Miss G._ And soon!--No hurry for them that has choice. + +_Christy._ That has money, you mane, jewel. Mr. Gilbert, you did not +give us your toast. + +_Gilb._ Your good health, ma'am--your good health, sir,--Mr. Hope, your +good health, and your fireside in Scotland, and in pa'tic'lar your good +wife. + +_Miss G._ (_starting_) Your wife, sir! Why, sir, is't possible you're a +married man, after all? + +_Mr. H._ Very possible, ma'am--thank Heaven and my gude Kate. + +_Miss G._ _His gude Kate_!--Well, I hate the Scotch accent of all +languages under the sun. + +_Christy._ In a married man, I suppose you _mane_, Florry? + +_Miss G._ This is the way with officers continually--passing themselves +for bachelors. + +_Christy._ Then, Florry, we'd best recommend it to the drum-major the +next town he'd go into, to put up an advertisement in capitals on his +cap, warning all women whom it may consarn, that he is a married man. + +_Miss G._ 'Tis no consarn of mine, I'll assure you, sir, at any rate; +for I should scorn to think of a Scotchman any way. And what's a +drum-major, after all? [_Exit, in a passion._ + +_Christy._ Bo boo! bo boo! bo boo! there's a tantarara now; but never +mind her, she takes them tantarums by turns. Now depend upon it, Mr. +Gilbert, it's love that's at the bottom of it all, clane and clear. + +_Gilb._ It's very like, sir--I can't say. + +_Christy._ Oh, but I _can_ say--I know her, egg and bird. The thing is, +she's mad with you, and that has set her all through other.--But we'll +finish our tumbler of punch. [_Draws forwards the table, and sets +chairs._ + +_Gilb._ (_aside_) Egg and bird!--mad! All through other!--Confound me if +I understand one word the man is saying; but I will make him understand +me, if he can understand plain English. + +_Mr. H._ (_aside_) I'll stand by and see fair play. I have my own +thought. + +_Gilb._ Now, Mr. ----, to be plain with you at once--here's fifty +guineas in gold, and if you will take them, and give me up the promise +you have got of the new inn, you shall be welcome. That's all I have +to say, if I was to talk till Christmas--and fewest words is best in +matters of business. + +_Christy._ Fifty guineas in gold!--Don't part with a guinea of them, +man, put 'em up again. You shall have the new inn without a word +more, and into the bargain my good-will and my daughter--and you're a +jantleman, and can't say _no_ to that, any way. + +_Gilb._ Yes, but I can though: since you drive me to the wall, I must +say no, and I do say no. And, dang it, I would have been hanged almost +as soon as say so much to a father. I beg your pardon, sir, but my heart +is given to another. Good evening to you. + +_Christy._ (_holding him as he attempts to go_) Take it coolly, and +listen to me, and tell me--was you ever married before, Mr. Gilbert? + +_Gilb._ Never. + +_Christy._ Then I was--and I can tell you that I found to my cost, +love was all in all with me before I was married, and after I had been +married a twel'-month, money was all in all with me; for I had the +wife, and I had not the money, and without the money, the wife must have +starved. + +_Gilb._ But I can work, sir, and will, head, hands, and heart, for the +woman I love. + +_Christy._ Asy said--hard done. Mabel Larken is a very pretty girl. But +wait till I tell you what Kit Monaghan said to me yesterday. I'm +going to be married, sir, says he to me. Ay, so you mintioned to me a +fortnight ago, Kit, says I--to Rose Dermod, isn't it? says I. Not at +all, sir, says he--it is to Peggy McGrath, this time. And what quarrel +had you to Rose Dermod? says I. None in life, sir, says he; but Peggy +McGrath had two cows, and Rose Dermod had but the one, and in my mind +there is not the differ of a cow betwix' one woman and another. Do you +understand me now, Mr. Gilbert? + +_Gilb._ Sir, we shall never understand one another--pray let me go, +before I get into a passion. + +[_Breaks from CHRISTY, and exit._ + +_Christy._ Hollo! Hollo! Mr. Gilbert! (_GILBERT returns._) One word more +about the new inn. I've done about Florry; and, upon my conscience, I +believe you're right enough--only that I'm her father, and in duty bound +to push her as well as I can. + +_Gilb._ Well, sir, about the inn: be at a word with me; for I'm not in a +humour to be trifled with. + +_Mr. H._ (_aside_) Fire beneath snow! who'd ha' thought it? + +_Christy._ Then, if it was sixty guineas instead of fifty, I'd take it, +and you should have my bargain of the inn. + +_Mr. H._ (_aside_) I'll not say my word until I see what the bottom of +the men are. + +_Gilb._ (_aside_) Why, to make up sixty, I must sell my watch even; but +I'll do it--any thing to please Mabel. (_Aloud_) Well, sixty guineas, if +you won't give it for less. + +_Christy._ Done! (_Eagerly._) + +_Mr. H._ Stay, stay, Mr. Gilbert! Have a care, Mr. Gallagher!--the lady +might not be well pleased at your handing over her written promise, +Mr. Gallagher--wait a wee bit. Don't conclude this bargain till you are +before the lady at the castle. + +_Gilb._ So best--no doubt. + +_Christy._ All one to me--so I pocket the sixty. + +_Mr. H._ (_aside to GILBERT_) Come off. + +_Gilb._ We shall meet then at the castle to-night: till then, a good day +to you, Mr. Gallagher. + +[_Exeunt GILBERT and Mr. HOPE._ + +_Christy._ Good night to ye kindly, gentlemen. There's a fool to love +for you now! If I'd ax'd a hundred, I'd ha' got it. But still there's +only one thing. Ferrinafad will go mad when she learns I have sold the +new inn, and she to live on in this hole, and no place for the piano. I +hope Biddy did not hear a sentence of it. (_Calls_) Biddy! Biddy Doyle! +Biddy, can't ye? + +_Enter Biddy._ + +_Biddy._ What is it? + +_Christy._ Did you hear any thing? Oh, I see ye did by your eyes. Now, +hark'ee, my good girl: don't mention a sentence to Ferrinafad of my +settling the new inn, till the bargain's complate, and money in both +pockets--you hear. + +_Biddy._ I do, sir. But I did not hear afore. + +_Christy._ Becaase, she, though she's my daughter, she's crass--I'll +empty my mind to you, Biddy. + +_Biddy._ (_aside_) He has taken enough to like to be talking to poor +Biddy. + +_Christy._ Afore Florry was set up on her high horse by that little +independency her doting grandmother left her, and until she got her +head turned with that Ferrinafad edication, this Florry was a good girl +enough. But now what is she?--Given over to vanities of all sorts, and +no comfort in life to me, or use at all--not like a daughter at all, nor +mistress of the house neither, nor likely to be well married neither, +or a credit to me that way! And saucy to me on account of that money of +hers I liquidated unknown'st. + +_Biddy._ True for ye, sir. + +_Christy._ Then it all comes from the little finger getting to be the +master of me; for I'm confident that when sober, I was not born to be +a rogue nat'rally. Was not I honest Christy once? (_ready to cry._) Oh, +I'm a great penitent! But there's no help for it now. + +_Biddy._ True for you, sir. + +_Christy._ I'm an unfortunate cratur, and all the neighbours know +it.--So, Biddy dear, I've nothing for it but to take another glass. + +_Biddy._ Oh! no, sir, not when you'll be going up to the castle to the +lady--you'll be in no condition. + +_Christy._ Tut, girl--'twill give me heart. Let's be merry any way. +[_Exit, singing,_ + + "They say it was care killed the cat, + That starved her, and caused her to die; + But I'll be much wiser than that, + For the devil a care will care I." + + + + +SCENE III. + + +_Widow LARKEN'S Cottage._ + +_Widow LARKEN, MABEL, and GILBERT._ + +_Gilb._ And could you doubt me, Mabel, after I told you I loved you? + +_Mabel._ Never would nor could have doubted, had you once told me as +much, Mr. Gilbert. + +_Widow._ There was the thing, Mr. Gilbert--you know it was you that was +to speak, if you thought of her. + +_Gilb._ Do not you remember the rose and the shamrock? + +_Widow._ Oh! she does well enough; and that's what her heart was living +upon, till I killed the hope. + +_Gilb._ You!--killed the hope!--I thought you were my friend. + +_Widow._ And so I am, and was--but when you did not speak. + +_Gilb._ If I had not loved her so well, I might have been able, perhaps, +to have said more. + +_Widow._ Then that's enough. Mabel mavourneen, wear the rose he give you +now--I'll let you--and see it's fresh enough. She put it in water--oh! +she had hope still! + +_Mabel._ And was not I right to trust him, mother? + +_Gilb._ Mabel, if I don't do my best to make you happy all my days, I +deserve to be--that's all! But I'm going to tell you about the new inn: +that's what I have been about ever since, and I'm to have it for sixty +guineas. + +_Enter OWEN, rubbing his hands._ + +_Owen._ You see, mother, I was right about Gilbert and Mabel. But Mr. +Hope and the band is gone up to the castle. Come, come!--time to be +off!--no delay!--Gilbert! Mabel, off with you! (_He pushes them off._) +And glad enough ye are to go together. Mother dear, here's your bonnet +and the cloak,--here round ye throw--that's it--take my arm. (_Widow +stumbles as he pulls her on._) Oh, I'm putting you past your speed, +mother. + +_Widow._ No, no.--No fear in life for the mother that has the support of +such a son. + + + + +SCENE IV. + + +_A large Apartment in Bannow Castle, ornamented with the Rose, Thistle, +and Shamrock.--The hall opens into a lawn, where the country-people are +seen dancing._ + +_Enter CLARA, Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN, and a train of dancers._ + +_Clara._ Now, sir, as we have here English, Scotch, and Irish dancers, +we can have the English country-dance, the Scotch reel, and the Irish +jig. + +_Sir W._ Then to begin with the Irish jig, which I have never seen. + +_Clara._ You shall see it in perfection. + +[_An Irish jig is danced, a Scotch reel follows, and an English +country-dance. When CLARA has danced down the country-dance, she goes +with her partner to Sir WILLIAM HAMDEN._ + +_Clara._ We are going out to look at the dancers on the lawn. + +_Sir W._ Take me with you, for I wish to see those merry dancers--I hear +them laughing. I love to hear the country-people laugh: theirs is always +_the heart's laugh._ + +[_Exeunt Sir WILLIAM and CLARA._ + +[_The dancers recommence, and after dancing for a few minutes, they go +off just as Sir WILLIAM and CLARA return, entering from the hall door._ + +_Clara._ My dear uncle, thank you for going out among these poor people, +and for speaking so kindly to them. One would think that you had lived +in Ireland all your life, you know so well how to go _straight_ to Irish +heads and Irish hearts by kindness, and by what they love almost as +well, _humour,_ and good-humour. Thank you again and again. + +_Sir W._ My dear niece, you need not thank me; for if you had nothing +to do with these people--if you had never been born--I should have loved +the Irish for their own sakes. How easy it is to please them! How easy +to make them happy; and how grateful they are, even for a few words of +kindness. + +_Clara._ Yes. This I may say without partiality--whatever other faults +my countrymen have, they certainly are a grateful people. My father, +who knew them well, taught me from my childhood, to trust to Irish +gratitude. + +_Sir W._ (_changing his tone_) But, on the other hand, it is my duty +to watch over your Irish generosity, Clara. Have you made any more +promises, my dear, since morning? + +_Clara._ Oh! no, sir; and I have heartily repented of that which I made +this morning: for I find that this man to whom I have promised the new +inn is a sad drunken, good-for-nothing person; and as for his daughter, +whom I have never yet seen-- + +_Sir W._ (_looking towards the entrance from the lawn_) + + "But who is this? What thing of sea or land? + Female of sex it seems-- + That so bedeck'd, ornate and gay, + Comes this way sailing." + +_Enter Miss GALLAGHER._ + +_Miss G._ Sir, I beg pardon. But I was told Miss O'Hara would wish to +speak with Christy Gallagher, and I'm his daughter--he not being very +well to-night. He will be up with miss in the morning--but is confined +to his bed with a pain about his heart, he took, just when I was coming +away. + +[_CHRISTY'S voice heard, singing, to the tune of "St. Patrick's day in +the morning."_ + + "Full bumpers of whiskey, + Will make us all frisky, + On Patrick's day in the morning." + +_Miss G._ (_aside_) Oh! King of glory, if he is not come up after all! + +_Clara._ "What noise is that, unlike the former sound?" + +_Sir W._ Only some man, singing in honour of St. Patrick, I suppose. + +_Enter_ CHRISTY GALLAGHER, BIDDY _trying to hold him back._ + +_Christy._ Tut! let me in: I know the lady is here, and I must thank her +as becoming-- + +[_CLARA puts her hand before her face and retires as he advances._ + +_Miss G._ Oh! father, keep out--you're not in a condition. + +_Sir W._ John! Thomas! carry this man off. + +_Christy._ Ah, now, just let me remark to his honour--did he ever hear +this song in England? (_He struggles and sings, while they are carrying +him off,_) + + "O'Rourke's noble feast shall ne'er be forgot, + By those who were there, or by those who were not." + +But it was not O'Rourke's noble feast at all, it was O'Hara's noble +feast, to the best of my knowledge--I'll take my affidavit; and am not +I here, on the spot, ready and proud to fight any one that denies the +contrary? Let me alone, Florry, for I'm no babby to be taken out of the +room. Ready and proud, I say I am, to fight any tin men in the county, +or the kingdom itself, or the three kingdoms entirely, that would go for +to dare for to offer to articulate the contrary. So it's Miss O'Hara for +ever, huzza! a! a! a! a! + +_Sir W._ Carry him off this instant. Begone! + +[_The servants carry off CHRISTY GALLAGHER, while he sings, to the tune +of "One bottle more,"_ + + "Oh, give me but whiskey, continted I'll sing, + Hibernia for ever, and God save the king!" + +[_Miss GALLAGHER directs and expedites her father's retreat._ + +_Clara._ Shame! shame! Is this the tenant I have chosen? + +_Miss G._ Indeed, and indeed, then, Miss O'Hara, I often preach to him, +but there's no use in life preaching to him--as good preaching to the +winds! for, drunk or sober, he has an answer ready at all points. It is +not wit he wants, sir. + +_Sir W._ And he is happy in having a daughter, who knows how to make +the best of his faults, I see. What an excellent landlord he will be for +this new inn! + +_Miss G._ Oh, certainly, sir--only it's being St. Patrick's night, he +would be more inexcusable; and as to the new inn, plase Heaven! he shall +get no pace on earth till he takes an oath afore the priest against +spirits, good or bad, for a twil'month to come, before ever I trust a +foot of his in the new inn. + +_Clara._ But, ma'am, from your own appearance, I should apprehend that +you would not be suited to the business yourself--I should suppose you +would think it beneath you to keep an inn. + +_Miss G._ Why, ma'am--why, sir--you know when it is called an hotel, +it's another thing; and I'm sure I've a great regard for the family, and +there's nothing I wouldn't do to oblige Miss O'Hara. + +_Clara._ Miss Gallagher, let me beg that if you wish to oblige me-- + +_Enter GILBERT._ + +_Sir W._ Well, Gilbert? + +_Gilb._ Only, sir, if you and Miss O'Hara were at leisure, sir, one Mr. +Andrew Hope, the master of the band, would wish to be allowed to come in +to sing a sort of a welcome home they have set to music, sir, for Miss +O'Hara. + +_Clara._ I do believe this is the very song which that drunken man gave +me this morning, and for which I gave him the promise of the inn. I +shall be ashamed to hear the song. + +_Sir W._ Let me hear it, at all events. Desire Mr. Andrew Hope, and his +merry-men-all, to walk in. [_Exit GILBERT._ + +_Enter Mr. HOPE and band.--Some of the country-people peep in, as if +wishing to enter._ + +_Sir W._ Come in, my good friends. + +[_Enter, among others, the Widow LARKEN, and MABEL, and OWEN.--BIDDY +follows timidly.--Miss GALLAGHER takes a conspicuous place.--Sir WILLIAM +and CLARA continue speaking._ + +_Sir W._ Did Gilbert introduce his bride elect to you, Clara? + +_Clara._ Yes, Mabel Larken, that girl with the sweet modest +countenance--and her mother, that respectable-looking woman; and her +brother, I see, is here, that boy with the quick, intelligent eyes. I +know all the family--know them all to be good; and these were the people +I might have served! Oh, fool! fool! + +_Sir W._ Well, well, well, 'tis over now, my dear Clara--you will be +wiser another time. Come, Mr. Hope, give us a little flattery, to put us +in good-humour with ourselves. + +[_The band prelude; but just as they begin, Sir WILLIAM sees CHRISTY, +who is coming in softly, holding back the skirts of his coat.--Sir +WILLIAM in a loud voice exclaims,_ + +Turn out that man! How dare you return to interrupt us, sir? Turn out +that man! + +_Christy._ (_falling on his knees_) Oh! plase your honour, I beg your +pardon for one minute: only just give me lave to _insense_ your honour's +honour. I'm not the same man at all. + +_Sir W._ Stand up, stand up--an Englishman cannot bear to see a man +kneel to him. Stand up, pray, if you can. + +_Christy._ Then I can, plase your honour (_rises_), since I got a shock. + +_Clara._ What shock? What do you mean? + +_Christy._ Oh, nothing in life, miss, that need consarn you--only a fall +I got from my horse, which the child they set to lead me would put me up +upon, and it come down and kilt me; for it wasn't a proper horse for +an unfortunate man like me, that was overtaken, as I was then; and it's +well but I got a kick of the baast. + +_Sir W._ Do you say you were kicked by a horse? + +_Christy._ Not at all, plase your honour--I say _it was well but_ I got +a kick of the baast. But it's all for the best now; for see, I'm now as +sober as a jidge, and _quite_ as any lamb; and if I'd get lave only just +to keep in this here corner, I would be no let or hinderance to any. +Oh! dear miss! spake for me! I'm an ould man, miss, that your father's +honour was partial to always, and called me _honest_ Christy, which I +was once, and till his death too. + +_Sir W._ What a strange mixture is this man! + +_Clara._ Pray let him stay, uncle--he's sober now. + +_Sir W._ Say not one word more, then; stand still there in your corner. + +_Christy._ And not a word for my life--not breathe, even--to plase you! +becaase I've a little business to mintion to the lady. Sixty guineas to +resave from Mr. Gilbert, yonder. Long life to you, miss! But I'll say no +more till this Scotchman has done with his fiddle and his musics. + +_Sir W._ I thought, sir, you were not to have spoken another syllable. + +[_CHRISTY puts his finger on his lips, and bows to Sir WILLIAM and to +CLARA._ + +_Sir W._ Now, Mr. Hope. + +_Mr. HOPE sings, and the Band join in chorus,_ + + Though Bannow's heiress, fair and young, + Hears polish'd praise from ev'ry tongue; + Yet good and kind, she'll not disdain + The tribute of the lowly swain. + The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee; + Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee. + + That open brow, that courteous grace, + Bespeaks thee of thy generous race; + Thy father's soul is in thy smile-- + Thrice blest his name in Erin's isle. + The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee; + Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee. + + The bright star shining on the night, + Betokening good, spreads quick delight; + But quicker far, more glad surprise, + Wakes the kind radiance of her eyes. + The heart's warm welcome, Clara, meets thee; + Thy native land, dear lady, greets thee[1]. + +[Footnote 1: Set to music by Mr. Webbe.] + +_Christy._ Then I'm not ashamed, any way, of that song of mine. + +_Sir W._ Of yours?--Is it possible that it is yours? + +_Clara._ It is indeed. These are the very lines he gave me this morning. + +_Christy._ And I humbly thank you, madam or miss, for having got them +set to the musics. + +_Clara._ I had nothing to do with that. We must thank Mr. Hope for this +agreeable surprise. + +_Christy._ Why, then, I thank you, Mr. Drum. + +_Mr. H._ You owe me no thanks, sir. I will take none from you. + +_Christy._ No--for I didn't remember giving you the copy. I suppose +Florry did. + +_Miss G._ Not I, sir. + +_Christy._ Or the schoolmaster's foul copy may be, for it was he was +putting the song down for me on paper. My own hand-writing shaking so +bad, I could not make a fair copy fit for the lady. + +_Mr. H._ Mr. Gallagher, don't plunge farther in falsehood--you know the +truth is, that song's not yours. + +_Christy._ Why, then, by all-- + +_Mr. H._ Stop, stop, Mr. Gallagher--stop, I advise you. + +_Christy._ Why, then, I won't stop at any thing--for the song's my own. + +_Mr. H._ In one sense of the word, may be, it may be called your own, +sir; for you bought it, I know. + +_Christy._ I bought it? Oh, who put that in your Scotch brains? Whoever +it was, was a big liar. + +_Biddy._ No liar at all, sir--I ax your pardon--'twas I. + +_Christy._ And you overheard my thoughts, then, talking to myself--ye +traitor! + +_Biddy._ No, sir--again I ax your pardon; no listener Biddy Doyle. But +I was at the schoolmaster's, to get him pen a letter for me to my poor +father, and there with him, I heard how Christy bought the song, and +seen the first copy--and the child of the house told me all about it, +and how it was lift there by Mr. Owen Larken. + +_Sir W._ and _Clara_ (_joyfully_). Owen Larken!--you? + +_Christy._ All lies! Asy talk!--asy talk--asy to belie a poor man. + +_Mr. H._ If you tell the truth, you can tell us the next verse, for +there's another which we did not yet sing. + +_Christy._ Not in my copy, which is the original. + +_Sir W._ If you have another verse, let us hear it--and that will decide +the business. + +_Christy._ Oh, the devil another line, but what's lame, I'll engage, and +forged, as you'll see. + +_Mr. HOPE sings,_ + + Quick spring the feelings of the heart, + When touch'd by Clara's gen'rous art; + Quick as the grateful shamrock springs, + In the good fairies' favour'd rings. + +_Clara._ What does Christy say now? + +_Christy._ Why, miss, I say that's well said for the shamrock any way. +And all that's in it for me is this--the schoolmaster was a rogue that +did not give me that verse in for my money. + +_Sir W._ Then you acknowledge you bought it? + +_Christy._ What harm, plase your honour? And would not I have a right +to buy what pleases me--and when bought and ped for isn't it mine in +law and right? But I am mighty unlucky this night. So, come along, +Florry--we are worsted see! No use to be standing here longer, the +laughing-stock of all that's in it--Ferrinafad. + +_Miss G._ Murder! Father, then here's all you done for me, by your +lies and your whiskey! I'll go straight from ye, and lodge with Mrs. +Mulrooney. Biddy, what's that you're grinning at? Plase to walk home out +of that. + +_Biddy._ Miss Florinda, I am partly engaged to dance; but I won't be +laving you in your downfall: so here's your cloak--and lane on me. + +_Widow._ Why, then, Biddy, we'll never forget you in our prosperity. + +_Mabel_ and _Owen._ Never, never. You're a good girl, Biddy. + +[_Exeunt Miss GALLAGHER, BIDDY, and CHRISTY._ + +_Clara._ I am glad they are gone. + +_Sir W._ I congratulate you, my dear niece, upon having got rid of +tenants who would have disgraced your choice. + +_Clara._ These (_turning to OWEN, MABEL, and her mother,_) these will +do honour to it. My written promise was to _grant the poet's petition_. +Owen, you are _the poet_--what is your petition? + +_Owen._ May I speak?--May I say all I wish? + +_Clara_ and _Sir W._ Yes, speak--say all you wish. + +_Owen._ I am but a young boy, and not able to keep the new inn; but Mr. +Gilbert and Mabel, with my mother's help, would keep it well, I think; +and it's they I should wish to have it, ma'am, if it were pleasing to +you. + +_Sir W._ And what would become of yourself, my good lad? + +_Owen._ Time enough, sir, to think of myself, when I've seen my mother +and sister settled. + +_Sir W._ Then as you won't think of yourself, I must think for you. Your +education, I find, has been well begun, and I will take care it shall +not be left half done. + +_Widow._ Oh, I'm too happy this minute! But great joy can say little. + +_Mabel._ (_aside_) And great love the same. + +_Mr. H._ This day is the happiest I have seen since I left the land of +cakes. + +_Gilb._ Thank you, Mr. Hope. And when I say thank you, why, I feel it. +'Twas you helped us at the dead lift. + +_Sir W._ You see I was right, Gilbert; the Scotch make good friends. +(_GILBERT bows._) And now, Clara, my love, what shall we call the new +inn--for it must have a name? Since English, Scotch, and Irish, have +united to obtain it, let the sign be the Rose, Thistle, and Shamrock. + + +END OF COMIC DRAMAS. + + + + +LEONORA + + + + +LETTER I. + +Lady Olivia to Lady Leonora L----. + + +What a misfortune it is to be born a woman! In vain, dear Leonora, +would you reconcile me to my doom. Condemned to incessant hypocrisy, +or everlasting misery, woman is the slave or the outcast of society. +Confidence in our fellow-creatures, or in ourselves, alike forbidden us, +to what purpose have we understandings, which we may not use? hearts, +which we may not trust? To our unhappy sex, genius and sensibility are +the most treacherous gifts of heaven. Why should we cultivate talents +merely to gratify the caprice of tyrants? Why seek for knowledge, which +can prove only that our wretchedness is irremediable? If a ray of light +break in upon us, it is but to make darkness more visible; to show us +the narrow limits, the Gothic structure, the impenetrable barriers of +our prison. Forgive me if on this subject I cannot speak--if I cannot +think--with patience. Is it not fabled, that the gods, to punish some +refractory mortal of the male kind, doomed his soul to inhabit upon +earth a female form? A punishment more degrading, or more difficult to +endure, could scarcely be devised by cruelty omnipotent. What dangers, +what sorrows, what persecutions, what nameless evils await the woman who +dares to rise above the prejudices of her sex! + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who, without a struggle, submit their reason to be swathed by all the +absurd bandages of custom. What, though they cripple or distort their +minds; are not these deformities beauties in the eyes of fashion? and +are not these people the favoured nurselings of the _World_, secure of +her smiles, her caresses, her fostering praise, her partial protection, +through all the dangers of youth and all the dotage of age? + + "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!" + +who learn to speak, and think, and act by rote; who have a phrase, or a +maxim, or a formula ready for every occasion; who follow-- + + "All the nurse and all the priest have taught." + +And is it possible that Olivia can envy these _tideless-blooded_ +souls their happiness--their apathy? Is her high spirit so broken +by adversity? Not such the promise of her early years, not such the +language of her unsophisticated heart! Alas! I scarcely know, I scarcely +recollect, that proud self, which was wont to defy the voice of opinion, +and to set at nought the decrees of prejudice. The events of my life +shall be related, or rather the history of my sensations; for in a life +like mine, sensations become events--a metamorphosis which you will see +in every page of my history. I feel an irresistible impulse to open +my whole heart to you, my dear Leonora. I ought to be awed by the +superiority of your understanding and of your character; yet there is +an indulgence in your nature, a softness in your temper, that dissipates +fear, and irresistibly attracts confidence. + +You have generously refused to be prejudiced against me by busy, +malignant rumour; you have resolved to judge of me for yourself. +Nothing, then, shall be concealed. In such circumstances I cannot seek +to extenuate any of my faults or follies. I am ready to acknowledge +them all with self-humiliation more poignant than the sarcasms of my +bitterest enemies. But I must pause till I have summoned courage for my +confession. Dear Leonora, adieu! + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER II. + +OLIVIA TO LEONORA. + + +Full of life and spirits, with a heart formed for all the enthusiasm, +for all the delicacy of love, I married early, in the fond expectation +of meeting a heart suited to my own. Cruelly disappointed, I +found--merely a husband. My heart recoiled upon itself; true to my own +principles of virtue, I scorned dissimulation. I candidly confessed to +my husband, that my love was extinguished. I proved to him, alas! too +clearly, that we were not born for each other. The attractive moment of +illusion was past--never more to return; the repulsive reality remained. +The living was chained to the dead, and, by the inexorable tyranny of +English laws, that chain, eternally galling to innocence, can be severed +only by the desperation of vice. Divorce, according to our barbarous +institutions, cannot be obtained without guilt. Appalled at the thought, +I saw no hope but in submission. Yet to submit to live with the man I +could not love was, to a mind like mine, impossible. My principles and +my feelings equally revolted from this legal prostitution. We separated. +I sought for balm to my wounded heart in foreign climes. + +To the beauties of nature I was ever feelingly alive. Amidst the sublime +scenes of Switzerland, and on the consecrated borders of her +classic lakes, I sometimes forgot myself to happiness. Felicity, how +transient!--transient as the day-dreams that played upon my fancy in the +bright morning of love. Alas! not all creation's charms could soothe +me to repose. I wandered in search of that which change of place cannot +afford. There was an aching void in my heart--an indescribable sadness +over my spirits. Sometimes I had recourse to books; but how few were +in unison with my feelings, or touched the trembling chords of my +disordered mind! Commonplace morality I could not endure. History +presented nothing but a mass of crimes. Metaphysics promised some +relief, and I bewildered myself in their not inelegant labyrinth. But +to the bold genius and exquisite pathos of some German novelists I hold +myself indebted for my largest portion of ideal bliss; for those rapt +moments, when sympathy with kindred souls transported me into better +worlds, and consigned vulgar realities to oblivion. + +I am well aware, my Leonora, that you approve not of these my favourite +writers: but yours is the morality of one who has never known sorrow. +I also would interdict such cordials to the happy. But would you forbid +those to taste felicity in dreams who feel only misery when awake? +Would you dash the cup of Lethe from lips to which no other beverage is +salubrious or sweet? + +By the use of these opiates my soul gradually settled into a sort of +pleasing pensive melancholy. Has it not been said, that melancholy is +a characteristic of genius? I make no pretensions to genius: but I am +persuaded that melancholy is the habitual, perhaps the natural state of +those who have the misfortune to feel with delicacy. + +You, my dear Leonora, will class this notion amongst what you once +called my refined errors. Indeed I must confess, that I see in you an +exception so striking as almost to compel me to relinquish my theory. +But again let me remind you, that your lot in life has been different +from mine. Alas! how different! Why had not I such a friend, such a +mother as yours, early to direct my uncertain steps, and to educate me +to happiness? I might have been--But no matter what I might have been--. +I must tell you what I have been. + +Separated from my husband, without a guide, without a friend at the +most perilous period of my life, I was left to that most insidious of +counsellors--my own heart--my own weak heart. When I was least prepared +to resist the impression, it was my misfortune to meet with a man of +a soul congenial with my own. Before I felt my danger, I was entangled +beyond the possibility of escape. The net was thrown over my heart; +its struggles were to no purpose but to exhaust my strength. Virtue +commanded me to be miserable--and I was miserable. But do I dare to +expect your pity, Leonora, for such an attachment? It excites your +indignation, perhaps your horror. Blame, despise, detest me; all this +would I rather bear, than deceive you into fancying me better than I +really am. + +Do not, however, think me worse. If my views had been less pure, if I +had felt less reliance on the firmness of my own principles, and less +repugnance to artifice, I might easily have avoided some appearances, +which have injured me in the eyes of the world. With real contrition I +confess, that a fatal mixture of masculine independence of spirit, and +of female tenderness of heart, has betrayed me into many imprudences; +but of vice, and of that meanest species of vice, hypocrisy, I thank +Heaven, my conscience can acquit me. All I have now to hope is, that +you, my indulgent, my generous Leonora, will not utterly condemn +me. Truth and gratitude are my only claims to your friendship--to a +friendship, which would be to me the first of earthly blessings, which +might make me amends for all I have lost. Consider this before, unworthy +as I am, you reject me from your esteem. Counsel, guide, save me! +Without vanity, but with confidence I say it, I have a heart that will +repay you for affection. You will find me easily moved, easily governed +by kindness. Yours has already sunk deep into my soul, and your power is +unlimited over the affections and over the understanding of + +Your obliged + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER III. + +FROM LADY LEONORA L---- TO HER MOTHER, THE DUCHESS OF ----, ENCLOSING +THE PRECEDING LETTERS. + + +I am permitted to send you, my dear mother, the enclosed letters. Mixed +with what you may not approve, you will, I think, find in them proofs +of an affectionate heart and superior abilities. Lady Olivia is just +returned to England. Scandal, imported from the continent, has had such +an effect in prejudicing many of her former friends and acquaintance +against her, that she is in danger of being excluded from that +society of which she was once the ornament and the favourite; but I am +determined to support her cause, and to do every thing in my power to +counteract the effects of malignity. I cannot sufficiently express the +indignation that I feel against the mischievous spirit of scandal, which +destroys happiness at every breath, and which delights in the meanest +of all malignant feelings--the triumph over the errors of superior +characters. Olivia has been much blamed, because she has been much +envied. + +Indeed, my dear mother, you have been prejudiced against her by false +reports. Do not imagine that her fascinating manners have blinded my +judgment: I assure you that I have discerned, or rather that she has +revealed to me, all her faults: and ought not this candour to make a +strong impression upon my mind in her favour? Consider how young, how +beautiful she was at her first entrance into fashionable life; how much +exposed to temptation, surrounded by flatterers, and without a single +friend. I am persuaded that she would have escaped all censure, and +would have avoided all the errors with which she now reproaches herself, +if she had been blessed with a mother such as mine. + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER IV. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO HER DAUGHTER. + + +MY DEAREST CHILD, + +I must answer your last before I sleep--before I can sleep in peace. I +have just finished reading the rhapsody which it enclosed; and whilst my +mind is full and warm upon the subject, let me write, for I can write to +my own satisfaction at no other time. I admire and love you, my child, +for the generous indignation you express against those who trample upon +the fallen, or who meanly triumph over the errors of superior genius; +and if I seem more cold, or more severe, than you wish me to be, +attribute this to my anxiety for your happiness, and to that caution +which is perhaps the infirmity of age. + +In the course of my long life I have, alas! seen vice and folly +dressed in so many different fashions, that I can find no difficulty in +detecting them under any disguise; but your unpractised eyes are almost +as easily deceived as when you were five years old, and when you could +not believe that your pasteboard nun was the same person in her various +changes of attire. + +Nothing would tempt you to associate with those who have avowed +themselves regardless of right and wrong; but I must warn you against +another, and a far more dangerous class, who professing the most refined +delicacy of sentiment, and boasting of invulnerable virtue, exhibit +themselves in the most improper and hazardous situations; and who, +because they are without fear, expect to be deemed free from reproach. +Either from miraculous good fortune, or from a singularity of temper, +these adventurous heroines may possibly escape with what they call +perfect innocence. So much the worse for society. Their example tempts +others, who fall a sacrifice to their weakness and folly. I would punish +the tempters in this case more than the victims, and for them the most +effectual species of punishment is contempt. Neglect is death to these +female lovers of notoriety. The moment they are out of fashion their +power to work mischief ceases. Those who from their character and rank +have influence over public opinion are bound to consider these things +in the choice of their associates. This is peculiarly necessary in days +when attempts are made to level all distinctions. You have sometimes +hinted to me, my dear daughter, with all proper delicacy, that I am too +strict in my notions, and that, unknown to myself, my pride mixes with +morality. Be it so: the pride of family, and the pride of virtue, should +reciprocally support each other. Were I asked what I think the best +guard to a nobility in this or in any other country, I should answer, +VIRTUE. I admire that simple epitaph in Westminster Abbey on the Duchess +of Newcastle:--"Her name was Margaret Lucas, youngest sister to the Lord +Lucas of Colchester;--a noble family, for all the brothers were valiant +and all the sisters virtuous." + +I look to the temper of the times in forming rules for conduct. Of late +years we have seen wonderful changes in female manners. I may be like +the old marquis in Gil Blas, who contended that even the peaches of +modern days had deteriorated; but I fear that my complaints of the +degeneracy of human kind are better founded, than his fears for the +vegetable creation. A taste for the elegant profligacy of French +gallantry was, I remember, introduced into this country before the +destruction of the French monarchy. Since that time, some sentimental +writers and pretended philosophers of our own and foreign countries, +have endeavoured to confound all our ideas of morality. To every rule +of right they have found exceptions, and on these they have fixed the +public attention by adorning them with all the splendid decorations of +eloquence; so that the rule is despised or forgotten, and the exception +triumphantly established in its stead. These orators seem as if they had +been employed by Satan to plead the cause of vice; and, as if possessed +by the evil spirit, they speak with a vehemence which carries away their +auditors, or with a subtlety which deludes their better judgment. They +put extreme cases, in which virtue may become vice, or vice virtue: they +exhibit criminal passions in constant connexion with the most exalted, +the most amiable virtues; thus making use of the best feelings of +human nature for the worst purposes, they engage pity or admiration +perpetually on the side of guilt. Eternally talking of philosophy or +philanthropy, they borrow the terms only to perplex the ignorant and +seduce the imagination. They have their systems and their theories, and +in theory they pretend that the general good of society is their sole +immutable rule of morality, and in practice they make the variable +feelings of each individual the judges of this general good. Their +systems disdain all the vulgar virtues, intent upon some _beau ideal_ of +perfection or perfectibility. They set common sense and common honesty +at defiance. No matter: their doctrine, so convenient to the passions +and soporific to the conscience, can never want partisans; especially by +weak and enthusiastic women it is adopted and propagated with eagerness; +then they become personages of importance, and zealots in support of +their sublime opinions; and they can read,--and they can write,--and +they can talk,--and they can _effect a revolution in public opinion_! I +am afraid, indeed, that they can; for of late years we have heard more +of sentiment than of principles; more of the rights of woman than of +her duties. We have seen talents disgraced by the conduct of their +possessors, and perverted in the vain attempt to defend what is +unjustifiable. + +Where must all this end? Where the abuse of reason inevitably ends--in +the ultimate law of force. If, in this age of reason, women make a bad +use of that power which they have obtained by the cultivation of +their understanding, they will degrade and enslave themselves beyond +redemption; they will reduce their sex to a situation worse than it ever +experienced even in the ages of ignorance and superstition. If men +find that the virtue of women diminishes in proportion as intellectual +cultivation increases, they will connect, fatally for the freedom +and happiness of our sex, the ideas of female ignorance and female +innocence; they will decide that one is the effect of the other. They +will not pause to distinguish between the use and the abuse of reason; +they will not stand by to see further experiments tried at their +expense, but they will prohibit knowledge altogether as a pernicious +commodity, and will exert the superior power which nature and society +place in their hands, to enforce their decrees. Opinion obtained freedom +for women; by opinion they may be again enslaved. It is therefore the +interest of the female world, and of society, that women should be +deterred by the dread of shame from passing the bounds of discretion. +No false lenity, no partiality in favour of amusing talents or agreeable +manners, should admit of exceptions which become dangerous examples of +impunity. The rank and superior understanding of a _delinquent_ ought +not to be considered in mitigation, but as aggravating circumstances. +Rank makes ill conduct more conspicuous: talents make it more dangerous. +Women of abilities, if they err, usually employ all their powers to +justify rather than to amend their faults. + +I am afraid, my dear daughter, that my general arguments are closing +round your Olivia; but I must bid you a good night, for my poor eyes +will serve me no longer. God bless you, my dear child. + + * * * * * + +LETTER V. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +I agree with you, my dear mother, that in these times especially it +is incumbent upon all persons, whose rank or reputation may influence +public opinion, to be particularly careful to support the cause of +female honour, of virtue, and religion. With the same object in view, we +may however differ in the choice of means for its attainment. Pleasure +as well as pain acts upon human creatures; and therefore, in governing +them, may not reward be full as efficacious as punishment? Our sex are +sufficiently apprised of the fatal consequences of ill conduct; the +advantages of well-earned reputation should be at least as great, as +certain, and as permanent. + +In former times, a single finger pointed at the scutcheon of a knight +challenged him to defend his fame; but the defiance was open, the +defence was public; and if the charge proved groundless, it injured none +but the malicious accuser. In our days, female reputation, which is of a +nature more delicate than the honour of any knight, may be destroyed +by the finger of private malice. The whisper of secret scandal, which +admits of no fair or public answer, is too often sufficient to dishonour +a life of spotless fame. This is the height, not only of injustice, but +of impolicy. Women will become indifferent to reputation, which it is so +difficult, even by the prudence of years, to acquire, and which it is so +easy to lose in a moment, by the malice or thoughtlessness of those, +who invent, or who repeat scandal. Those who call themselves the world, +often judge without listening to evidence, and proceed upon suspicion +with as much promptitude and severity, as if they had the most +convincing proofs. But because Caesar, nearly two thousand years ago, +said that his wife ought not even to be suspected, and divorced her upon +the strength of this sentiment, shall we make it a general maxim that +suspicion justifies punishment? We might as well applaud those, who when +their friends are barely suspected to be tainted with the plague, drive +them from all human comfort and assistance. + +Even where women, from the thoughtless gaiety of youth, or the impulse +of inexperienced enthusiasm, may have given some slight cause for +censure, I would not have virtue put on all her gorgon terrors, nor +appear circled by the vengeful band of prudes; her chastening hand will +be more beneficially felt if she wear her more benign form. To place the +imprudent in the same class with the vicious, is injustice and impolicy; +were the same punishment and the same disgrace to be affixed to small +and to great offences, the number of _capital_ offenders would certainly +increase. Those who were disposed to yield to their passions would, +when they had once failed in exact decorum, see no motive, no fear to +restrain them; and there would be no pause, no interval between error +and profligacy. Amongst females who have been imprudent, there are many +things to be considered which ought to recommend them to mercy. The +judge, when he is obliged to pronounce the immutable sentence of the +law, often, with tears, wishes that it were in his power to mitigate +the punishment: the decisions of opinion may and must vary with +circumstances, else the degree of reprobation which they inflict cannot +be proportioned to the offence, or calculated for the good of society. +Among the mitigating circumstances, I should be inclined to name even, +those which you bring in aggravation. Talents, and what is called +genius, in our sex are often connected with a warmth of heart, an +enthusiasm of temper, which expose to dangers, from which the coldness +of mediocrity is safe. In the illuminated palace of ice, the lights +which render the spectacle splendid, and which raise the admiration of +the beholders, endanger the fabric and tend to its destruction. + +But you will tell me, dear mother, that allusion is not argument--and +I am almost afraid to proceed, lest you should think me an advocate +for vice. I would not shut the gates of mercy, inexorably and +indiscriminately, upon all those of my own sex, who have even been _more +than imprudent_. + + "He taught them shame, the sudden sense of ill-- + Shame, Nature's hasty conscience, which forbids + Weak inclination ere it grows to will, + Or stays rash will before it grows to deeds." + +Whilst a woman is alive to shame she cannot be dead to virtue. But by +injudicious or incessant reproach, this principle, even where it is +most exquisite, may be most easily destroyed. The mimosa, when too long +exposed to each rude touch, loses its retractile sensibility. It +ought surely to be the care of the wise and benevolent to cherish +that principle, implanted in our nature as the guard of virtue, that +principle, upon which legislators rest the force of punishment, and all +the grand interests of society. + +My dear mother, perhaps you will be surprised at the style in which I +have been writing, and you will smile at hearing your Leonora discuss +the duties of legislators and the grand interests of society. She has +not done so from presumption, or from affectation. She was alarmed by +your supposing that her judgment was deluded by fascinating manners, and +she determined to produce _general_ arguments, to convince you that +she is not actuated by particular prepossession. You see that I have +at least some show of reason on _my_ side. I have forborne to mention +Olivia's name: but now that I have obviated, I hope by reasoning, +the imputation of partiality, I may observe that all my arguments are +strongly in her favour. She had been attacked by slander; _the world_ +has condemned her upon suspicion merely. She has been imprudent; but I +repeat, in the strongest terms, that I am _convinced of her innocence_; +and that I should bitterly regret that a woman with such an affectionate +heart, such uncommon candour, and such superior abilities, should be +lost to society. + +Tell me, my dear mother, that you are no longer in anxiety about the +consequences of my attachment to Olivia. + +Your affectionate daughter, + +LEONORA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER VI. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO HER DAUGHTER. + + +You lament, my dear child, that such an affectionate heart, such great +abilities as Olivia's, should be lost to society. Before I sympathize in +your pity, my judgment must be convinced that it is reasonable. + +What proofs has Lady Olivia given of her affectionate heart? She is at +variance with both her parents; she is separated from her husband; and +she leaves her child in a foreign country, to be educated by strangers. +Am I to understand, that her ladyship's neglecting to perform the duties +of a daughter, a wife, and a mother, are proofs of an affectionate +heart? As to her superior talents, do they contribute to her own +happiness, or to the happiness of others? Evidently not to her own; for +by her account of herself, she is one of the most miserable wretches +alive! She tells you that "_she went to foreign climes in search of balm +for a wounded heart, and wandered from place to place, looking for what +no place could afford_." She talks of "_indescribable sadness--an aching +void--an impenetrable prison--darkness visible--dead bodies chained +to living ones_;" and she exhibits all the disordered furniture of +a "diseased mind." But you say, that though her powers are thus +insufficient to make herself happy, they may amuse or instruct the +world; and of this I am to judge by the letters which you have sent me. +You admire fine writing; so do I. I class eloquence high amongst the +fine arts. But by eloquence I mean something more than Dr. Johnson +defines it to be, "the art of speaking with fluency and elegance." +This is an art which is now possessed to a certain degree by every +boarding-school miss. Every scribbling young lady can now string +sentences and sentiments together, and can turn a period harmoniously. +Upon the strength of these accomplishments they commence heroines, and +claim the privileges of the order; privileges which go to an indefinite +and most alarming extent. Every heroine may have her own code of +morality for her private use, and she is to be tried by no other; she +may rail as loudly as she pleases "at the barbarous institutions of +society," and may deplore "_the inexorable tyranny of the English +laws_." If she find herself involved in delicate entanglements of +crossing duties, she may break through any one, or all of them, to +extricate herself with a noble contempt of prejudice. + +I have promised to reason calmly; but I cannot repress the terror which +I feel at the idea of my daughter's becoming the friend of one of these +women. Olivia's letters are, I think, in the true heroine style; and +they might make a brilliant figure in a certain class of novels. She +begins with a bold exclamation on "the misfortune of being born a +woman!--_the slave or the outcast of society, condemned to incessant +hypocrisy_!" Does she mean modesty? Her manly soul feels it "_the +most degrading punishment that omnipotent cruelty could devise, to +be imprisoned in a female form_." From such a masculine spirit some +fortitude and magnanimity might be expected; but presently she begs +to be pitied, for a broken spirit, and more than female tenderness of +heart. I have observed that the ladies who wish to be men, are usually +those who have not sufficient strength of mind to be women. + +Olivia proceeds in an ironical strain to envy, as "_the happiest of +their sex, those who submit to be swathed by custom_." These persons +she stigmatizes with the epithet of _tideless-blooded_. It is the common +trick of unprincipled women to affect to despise those who conduct +themselves with propriety. Prudence they term _coldness_; fortitude, +_insensibility;_ and regard to the rights of others, _prejudice_. +By this perversion of terms they would laugh or sneer virtue out of +countenance; and, by robbing her of all praise, they would deprive her +of all immediate motive. Conscious of their own degradation, they would +lower every thing, and every body, to their own standard: they would +make you believe, that those who have not yielded to their passions are +destitute of sensibility; that the love which is not blazoned forth in +glaring colours is not entitled to our sympathy. The sacrifice of the +strongest feelings of the human heart to a sense of duty is to be called +mean, or absurd; but the shameless frenzy of passion, exposing itself +to public gaze, is to be an object of admiration. These heroines talk of +strength of mind; but they forget that strength of mind is to be shown +in resisting their passions, not in yielding to them. Without being +absolutely of an opinion, which I have heard maintained, that all virtue +is sacrifice, I am convinced that the essential characteristic of virtue +is to bear and forbear. These sentimentalists can do neither. They talk +of sacrifices and generosity; but they are the veriest egotists--the +most selfish creatures alive. + +Open your eyes, my dear Leonora, and see things as they really are. Lady +Olivia thinks it a sufficient excuse for abandoning her husband, to say, +that she found "_his soul was not in unison with hers_." She thinks it +an adequate apology for a criminal attachment, to tell you that "_the +net was thrown over her heart before she felt her danger: that all its +struggles were to no purpose, but to exhaust her strength_." + +If she did not feel her danger, she prepared it. The course of reading +which her ladyship followed was the certain preparation for her +subsequent conduct. She tells us that she could not endure "_the +common-place of morality, but metaphysics promised her some relief_." +In these days a heroine need not be amoralist, but she must be a +metaphysician. She must "_wander in the not inelegant labyrinth_;" and +if in the midst of it she comes unawares upon the monster vice, she must +not start, though she have no clue to secure her retreat. + +From metaphysics Lady Olivia went on to German novels. "_For her largest +portions of bliss, for those rapt moments, which consigned vulgar +realities to oblivion_," she owns herself indebted to those writers, +who promise an ideal world of pleasure, which, like the _mirage_ in +the desert, bewilders the feverish imagination. I always suspected the +imagination of these _women of feeling_ to be more susceptible than +their hearts. They want excitation for their morbid sensibility, and +they care not at what expense it is procured. If they could make all the +pleasures of life into one cordial, they would swallow it at a draught +in a fit of sentimental spleen. The mental intemperance that they +indulge in promiscuous novel-reading destroys all vigour and clearness +of judgment; every thing dances in the varying medium of their +imagination. Sophistry passes for reasoning; nothing appears profound +but what is obscure; nothing sublime but what is beyond the reach of +mortal comprehension. To their vitiated taste the simple pathos, which +o'ersteps not the modesty of nature, appears cold, tame, and insipid; +they must have _scenes_ and a _coup de theatre_; and ranting, and +raving, and stabbing, and drowning, and poisoning; for with them there +is no love without murder. Love, in their representations, is indeed a +distorted, ridiculous, horrid monster, from whom common sense, taste, +decency, and nature recoil. + +But I will be calm.--You say, my dear Leonora, that your judgment has +not been blinded by Lady Olivia's fascinating manners; but that you are +strongly influenced in her favour by that candour, with which she has +revealed to you all her faults. The value of candour in individuals +should be measured by their sensibility to shame. When a woman throws +off all restraint, and then desires me to admire her candour, I am +astonished only at her assurance. Do not be the dupe of such candour. +Lady Olivia avows a criminal passion, yet you say that you have no +doubt of her innocence. The persuasion of your unsuspecting heart is no +argument: when you give me any proofs in her favour, I shall pay them +all due attention. In the mean time I have given you my opinion of those +ladies who place themselves in the most perilous situations, and then +expect you to believe them safe. + +Olivia's professions of regard for you are indeed enthusiastic. +She tells you, that "_your power is unlimited over her heart and +understanding; that your friendship would be to her one of the greatest +of earthly blessings_." May be so--but I cannot wish you to be her +friend. With whatever confidence she makes the assertion, do not believe +that she has a heart capable of feeling the value of yours. These +sentimental, unprincipled women make the worst friends in the world. +We are often told that, "poor creatures! they do nobody any harm but +themselves;" but in society it is scarcely possible for a woman to do +harm to herself, without doing harm to others; all her connexions +must be involved in the consequences of her imprudence. Besides, +what confidence can you repose in them? If you should happen to be an +obstacle in the way of any of their fancies, do you think that they will +respect you or your interest, when they have not scrupled to sacrifice +their own to the gratification of their passions? Do you think that +the gossamer of sentiment will restrain those whom the strong chains of +prudence could not hold? + +Oh! my dearest child, forcibly as these arguments carry conviction to my +mind, I dread lest your compassionate, generous temper, should prevent +their reaching your understanding. Then let me conjure you, by all the +respect which you have ever shown for your mother's opinions, by all +that you hold dear or sacred, beware of forming an intimacy with an +unprincipled woman. Believe me to be + +Your truly affectionate mother, ---- + + * * * * * + +LETTER VII. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +No daughter ever felt more respect for the opinions of a parent than +I do for yours, my dearest mother; but you have never, even from +childhood, required from me a blind submission--you have always +encouraged me to desire conviction. And now, when the happiness of +another is at stake, you will forgive me if I am less disposed to +yield than I should be, I hope, if my own interest or taste were alone +concerned. + +You ask me what proofs I have of Lady Olivia's innocence. Believe me, I +have such as are convincing to my unbiassed judgment, and such as would +be sufficient to satisfy all your doubts, were I at liberty to lay the +whole truth before you. But even to exculpate herself, Olivia will not +ruin in your opinion her husband, of whom you imagine that she has +no reason to complain. I, who know how anxious she is to obtain your +esteem, can appreciate the sacrifice that she makes; and in this +instance, as in many others, I admire her magnanimity; it is equal +to her candour, for which she is entitled to praise even by your +own principles, dear mother: since, far from having _thrown off all +restraint_, she is exquisitely susceptible of shame. + +As to her understanding--have no persons of great talents ever been +unfortunate? Frequently we see that they have not been able, by all +their efforts and all their powers, to remedy the defects in the +characters and tempers of those with whom they have unhappily been +connected. Olivia married very young, and was unfortunately mistaken in +her choice of a husband: on that subject I can only deplore her error +and its consequences: but as to her disagreements with her own family, +I do not think her to blame. For the mistakes we make in the choice of +lovers or friends we may be answerable, but we cannot be responsible for +the faults of the relations who are given to us by nature. If we do not +please them, it may be our misfortune; it is not necessarily our fault. +I cannot be more explicit, without betraying Lady Olivia's confidence, +and implicating others in defending her. + +With respect to that attachment of which you speak with so much just +severity, she has given me the strongest assurances that she will do +every thing in her power to conquer it. Absence, you know, is the first +and the most difficult step, and this she has taken. Her course of +reading displeases you: I cannot defend it: but I am persuaded that it +is not a proof of her taste being vitiated. Many people read ordinary +novels as others take snuff, merely from habit, from the want of petty +excitation; and not, as you suppose, from the want of exorbitant or +improper stimulus. Those who are unhappy have recourse to any trifling +amusement that can change the course of their thoughts. I do not justify +Olivia for having chosen such _comforters_ as certain novels, but I pity +her, and impute this choice to want of fortitude, not to depravity of +taste. Before she married, a strict injunction was laid upon her not to +read any book that was called a novel: this raised in her mind a sort +of perverse curiosity. By making any books or opinions contraband, +the desire to read and circulate them is increased; bad principles are +consequently smuggled into families, and being kept secret, can never +be subject to fair examination. I think it must be advantageous to the +right side of any question, that all which can be said against it should +be openly heard, that it may be answered. I do not + + "Hate when vice can bolt her arguments;" + +for I know that virtue has a tongue to answer her. The more vice repeats +her assertions, the better; because when familiarized, their boldness +will not astound the understanding, and the charm of novelty will not be +mistaken for the power of truth. We may observe, that the admiration +for the class of writers to whom you allude, though violent in its +commencement, has abated since they have been more known; and numbers, +who began with rapture, have ended with disgust. Persons of vivacious +imaginations, like Olivia, may be caught at first view by whatever has +the appearance of grandeur or sublimity; but if time be allowed for +examination, they will infallibly detect the disproportions, and these +will ever afterwards shock their taste: if you will not allow leisure +for comparison--if you say, do not look at such strange objects, +the obedient eyes may turn aside, but the rebel imagination pictures +something a thousand times more wonderful and charming than the reality. +I will venture to predict, that Olivia will soon be tired of the species +of novels which she now admires, and that, once surfeited with these +books, and convinced of their pernicious effects, she will never relapse +into the practice of novel reading. + +As to her taste for metaphysical books--Dear mother, I am very daring to +differ with you in so many points; but permit me to say, that I do not +agree with you in detesting metaphysics. People may lose themselves in +that labyrinth; but why should they meet with vice in the midst of it? +The characters of a moralist, a practical moralist, and a metaphysician, +are not incompatible, as we may see in many amiable and illustrious +examples. To examine human motives, and the nature of the human mind, +is not to destroy the power of virtue, or to increase the influence +of vice. The chemist, after analyzing certain substances, and after +discovering their constituent parts, can lay aside all that is +heterogeneous, and recompound the substance in a purer state. From +analogy we might infer, that the motives of metaphysicians ought to +be purer than those of the vulgar and ignorant. To discover the art of +converting base into noble passions, or to obtain a universal remedy for +all mental diseases, is perhaps beyond the power of metaphysicians; but +in the pursuit, useful discoveries may be made. + +As to Olivia's letters--I am sorry I sent them to you; for I see that +they have lowered, instead of raising her in your opinion. But if you +criticise letters, written in openness and confidence of heart to a +private friend, as if they were set before the tribunal of the public, +you are--may I say it?--not only severe, but unjust; for you try and +condemn the subjects of one country by the laws of another. + +Dearest mother, be half as indulgent to Olivia as you are to me: indeed +you are prejudiced against her; and because you see some faults, you +think her whole character vicious. But would you cut down a fine tree +because a leaf is withered, or because the canker-worm has eaten into +the bud? Even if a main branch were decayed, are there not remedies +which, skilfully applied, can save the tree from destruction, and +perhaps restore it to its pristine beauty? + +And now, having exhausted all my allusions, all my arguments, and all my +little stock of eloquence, I must come to a plain matter of fact-- + +Before I received your letter I had invited Lady Olivia to spend some +time at L---- Castle. I fear that you will blame my precipitation, and +I reproach myself for it, because I know it will give you pain. However, +though you will think me imprudent, I am certain you would rather that +I were imprudent than unjust. I have defended Olivia from what I +believe to be unmerited censure; I have invited her to my house; she has +accepted my proffered kindness; to withdraw it afterwards would be doing +her irreparable injury: it would confirm all that the world can suspect: +it would be saying to the censorious--I am convinced that you are right, +and I deliver your victim up to you. + +Thus I should betray the person whom I undertook to defend: her +confidence in me, her having but for a moment accepted my protection, +would be her ruin. I could not act in so base a manner. + +Fear nothing for me, my best, but too anxious, friend. I may do Lady +Olivia some good; she can do me no harm. She may learn the principles +which you have taught me; I can never catch from her any tastes or +habits which you would disapprove. As to the rest, I hazard little +or nothing. The hereditary credit which I enjoy in my maternal right +enables me to assist others without injuring myself. + +Your affectionate daughter, + +LEONORA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER VIII. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO HER DAUGHTER. + + +MY DEAREST CHILD, + +I hope that you are in the right, and that I am in the wrong. + +Your affectionate mother, ----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER IX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +Prepare yourself, my ever dear and charming Gabrielle, for all the +torments of jealousy. Know, that since I came to England I have formed +a new friendship with a woman who is interesting in the extreme, who has +charmed me by the simplicity of her manners and the generous sensibility +of her heart. Her character is certainly too reserved: yet even +this defect has perhaps increased her power over my imagination, and +consequently over my affections. I know not by what magic she has +obtained it, but she has already an ascendancy over me, which would +quite astonish _you_, who know my wayward fancies and independent +spirit. + +Alas! I confess my heart is weak indeed; and I fear that all the +power of friendship and philosophy combined will never strengthen it +sufficiently. Oh, Gabrielle! how can I hope to obliterate from my soul +that attachment which has marked the colour of my destiny for years? Yet +such courage, such cruel courage is required of me, and of such I have +boasted myself capable. Lady Leonora L----, my new friend, has, by all +the English eloquence of virtue, obtained from me a promise, which, +I fear, I shall not have the fortitude to keep--but I must make +the attempt--Forbid R---- to write to me--Yes! I have written the +words--Forbid R---- to write to me--Forbid him to think of me--I will do +more--if possible I will forbid myself henceforward to think of him--to +think of love--Adieu, my Gabrielle--All the illusions of life are over, +and a dreary blank of future existence lies before me, terminated only +by the grave. To-morrow I go to L---- Castle, with feelings which I can +compare only to those of the unfortunate La Valliere when she renounced +her lover, and resolved to bury herself in a cloister.--Alas! why have +not I the resource of devotion? + +Your unhappy + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER X. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +Publish my travels!--Not I, my dear friend. The world shall never have +the pleasure of laughing at General B----'s trip to Paris. Before a man +sets about to inform others, he should have seen, not only the surface +but the bottom of things; he should have had, not only a _vue d'oiseau_, +but (to use a celebrated naval commander's expression) a _vue de +poisson_ of his subject. By this time you must have heard enough of the +Louvre and the Tuilleries, and Versailles, and le petit Trianon, and St. +Cloud--and you have had enough of pictures and statues; and you know all +that can be known of Bonaparte, by seeing him at a review or a levee; +and the fashionable beauties and _celebrated characters_ of the hour +have all passed and repassed through the magic lantern. A fresh showman +might make his figures a little more correct, or a little more in +laughable caricature, but he could produce nothing new. Alas! there +is nothing new under the sun. Nothing remains for the moderns, but to +practise the oldest follies the newest ways. Would you, for the sake +of your female friends, know the fashionable dress of a Parisian +_elegante_, see Seneca on the transparent vestments of the Roman ladies, +who, like these modern belles, were generous in the display of their +charms to the public. No doubt these French republicanists act upon the +true Spartan principle of modesty: they take the most efficacious method +to prevent their influence from being too great over the imaginations +of men, by renouncing all that insidious reserve which alone can render +even beauty permanently dangerous. + +Of the cruelties of the revolution I can tell you nothing new. The +public have been steeped up to the lips in blood, and have surely had +their fill of horrors. + +But, my dear friend, you say that I must be able to give a just view +of the present state of French society, and of the best parts of it, +because I have not, like some of my countrymen, hurried about Paris from +one _spectacle_ to another, seen the opera, and the play-houses, and the +masked balls, and the gaming-houses, and the women of the Palais +Royal, and the lions of all sorts; gone through the usual routine +of presentation and public dinners, drunk French wine, damned French +cookery, and "come home content." I have certainly endeavoured to employ +my time better, and have had the good fortune to be admitted into the +best _private societies_ in Paris. These were composed of the remains +of the French nobility, of men of letters and science, and of families, +who, without interfering in politics, devote themselves to domestic +duties, to literary and social pleasures. The happy hours I have passed +in this society can never be forgotten, and the kindness I have received +has made its full impression upon an honest English heart. I will never +disgrace the confidence of my friends, by drawing their characters for +the public. + +Caesar in all his glory, and all his despotism, could not, with +impunity, force a Roman knight [1] to go upon the stage: but modern +anecdote-mongers, more cruel and insolent than Caesar, force their +friends of all ages and sexes to appear, and speak, and act, for the +amusement or derision of the public. + +[Footnote 1: Laberius.] + +My dear friend, is not my resolution, never to favour the world with +my tour, well grounded? I hope that I have proved to your satisfaction, +that I could tell people nothing but what I do not understand, or what +is not worth telling them, or what has been told them a hundred times, +or what, as a gentleman, I am bound not to publish. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XI. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +Friendship, my amiable and interesting Gabrielle, is more an affair of +the heart than of the head, more the instinct of taste than the choice +of reason. With me the heart is no longer touched, when the imagination +ceases to be charmed. Explain to me this metaphysical phenomenon of my +nature, and, for your reward, I will quiet your jealousy, by confessing +without compunction what now weighs on my conscience terribly. I begin +to feel that I can never love this English friend as I ought. She is +_too English_--far too English for one who has known the charms +of French ease, vivacity, and sentiment; for one who has seen the +bewitching Gabrielle's infinite variety. + +Leonora has just the figure and face that you would picture to yourself +for _une belle Anglaise_; and if our Milton comes into your memory, you +might repeat, for the quotation is not too trite for a foreigner, + + "Grace is in all her steps, heaven in her eye, + In every gesture dignity and love." + +But then it is grace which says nothing, a heaven only for a husband, +the dignity more of a matron than of a heroine, and love that might +have suited Eve before she had seen this world. Leonora is certainly +a beauty; but then a beauty who does not know her power, and who, +consequently, can make no one else feel its full extent. She is not +unlike your beautiful Polish Princess, but she has none of the charming +Anastasia's irresistible transitions from soft, silent languor, to +brilliant, eloquent enthusiasm. All the gestures and attitudes of +Anastasia are those of taste and sentiment; Leonora's are simply those +of nature. _La belle nature_, but not _le beau ideal_. With a figure +that would grace any court, or shine upon any stage, she usually enters +a room without producing, or thinking of producing, any sensation; she +moves often without seeming to have any other intention than to change +her place; and her fine eyes generally look as if they were made only to +see with. At times she certainly has a most expressive and intelligent +countenance. I have seen her face enlightened by the fire of genius, and +shaded by the exquisite touches of sensibility; but all this is merely +called forth by the occasion, and vanishes before it is noticed by +half the company. Indeed, the full radiance of her beauty or of her wit +seldom shines upon any one but her husband. The audience and spectators +are forgotten. Heavens! what a difference between the effect which +Leonora and Gabrielle produce! But, to do her justice, much of this +arises from the different _organization_ of French and English society. +In Paris the insipid details of domestic life are judiciously kept +behind the scenes, and women appear as heroines upon the stage with all +the advantages of decoration, to listen to the language of love, and to +receive the homage of public admiration. In England, gallantry is not +yet _systematized_, and our sex look more to their families than to +what is called _society_ for the happiness of existence. And yet the +affection of mothers for their children does not appear to be so strong +in the hearts of English as of French women. In England, ladies do not +talk of the _sentiment of maternity_ with that elegance and sensibility +with which you expatiate upon it continually in conversation. They +literally are _des bonnes meres de famille_, not from the impulse of +sentiment, but merely from an early instilled sense of duty, for which +they deserve little credit. However, they devote their lives to their +children, and those who have the misfortune to be their intimate friends +are doomed to see them half the day, or all day long, go through the +part of the good mother in all its diurnal monotony of lessons and +caresses. All this may be vastly right--it is a pity it is so tiresome. +For my part I cannot conceive how persons of superior taste and talents +can submit to it, unless it be to make themselves a reputation, and that +you know is done by writing and talking on the general principles, not +by submitting to the minute details of education. The great painter +sketches the outline, and touches the principal features, but leaves +the subordinate drudgery of filling up the parts, finishing the drapery, +&c., to inferior hands. + +Upon recollection, in my favourite "Sorrows of Werter," the heroine is +represented cutting bread and butter for a group of children: I admire +this simplicity in Goethe; 'tis one of the secrets by which he touches +the heart. Simplicity is delightful by way of variety, but always +simplicity is worse than _toujours perdrix_. Children in a novel or a +drama are charming little creatures: but in real life they are often +insufferable plagues. What becomes of them in Paris I know not; but I am +sure that they are never in the way of one's conversations or reveries; +and it would be a blessing to society if English children were as +inaudible and invisible. These things strike me sensibly upon my return +to England, after so long an absence. Surely, by means of the machinery +of masters, and governesses, and schools, the manufacture of education +might be carried on without incommoding those who desire to see only +the finished production. Here I find the daughter of an English duke, a +woman in the first bloom of youth, of the highest pretensions in point +of rank, beauty, fashion, accomplishments, and talents, devoting herself +to the education of two children, orphans, left to her care by an elder +sister. To take charge of orphans is a good and fine action; as such +it touches me sensibly; but then where is the necessity of sacrificing +one's friends, and one's pleasures, day after day, and hour after hour, +to mere children? Leonora can persevere only from a notion of duty. +Now, in my opinion, when generosity becomes duty it ceases to be virtue. +Virtue requires free-will: duty implies constraint. Virtue acts from the +impulse of the moment, and never tires or is tired; duty drudges on in +consequence of reflection, and, weary herself, wearies all beholders. +Duty, always laborious, never can be graceful; and what is not graceful +in woman cannot be amiable--can it, my amiable Gabrielle? But I reproach +myself for all I have written. Leonora is my friend--besides, I am +really obliged to her, and for the universe would I not hint a thought +to her disadvantage. Indeed she is a most excellent, a faultless +character, and it is the misfortune of your Olivia not to love +perfection as she ought. + +My charming and interesting Gabrielle, I am more out of humour with +myself than you can conceive; for in spite of all that reason and +gratitude urge, I fear I cannot prefer the insipid virtues of Leonora to +the lively graces of Gabrielle. + +As to the cold husband, Mr. L----, I neither know nor wish to know +any thing of him; but I live in hopes of an agreeable and interesting +accession to our society to-day, from the arrival of Leonora's intimate +friend, a young widow, whose husband I understand was a man of a harsh +temper: she has gone through severe trials with surprising fortitude; +and though I do not know her history, I am persuaded it must be +interesting. Assuredly this husband could never have been the man of her +choice, and of course she must have had some secret unhappy attachment, +which doubtless preyed upon her spirits. Probably the object of her +affection, in despair at her marriage, plighted his faith unfortunately, +or possibly may have fallen a sacrifice to his constancy. I am all +impatience to see her. Her husband's name was so ruggedly English, that +I am sure you would never be able to pronounce it, especially if you +only saw it written; therefore I shall always to you call her Helen, +a name which is more pleasing to the ear, and more promising to the +imagination. I have not been able to prevail upon Leonora to describe +her friend to me exactly; she says only, that she loves Helen too well +to overpraise her beforehand. My busy fancy has, however, bodied forth +her form, and painted her in the most amiable and enchanting colours. +Hark! she is just arrived. Adieu. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XII. + +FROM MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +. . . Having now had the honour of spending nearly a week in the society +of the celebrated enchantress, Lady Olivia, you will naturally expect +that I should be much improved in the art of love: but before I come to +my improvements I must tell you, what will be rather more interesting, +that Leonora is perfectly well and happy, and that I have the dear +delight of exclaiming ten times an hour, "Ay, just as I thought it would +be!--Just such a wife, just such a mistress of a family I knew she would +make." + +"_Not to admire_," is an art or a precept which I have not been able +to practise much since I came here. Some philosophers tell us that +admiration is not only a silly but a fatiguing state of mind; and I +suppose that nothing could have preserved my mind from being tired to +death, but the quantity of bodily exercise which I have taken. I could, +if I pleased, give you a plan and elevation of this castle. Nay, I doubt +not but I could stand an examination in the catalogue of the pictures, +or the inventory of the furniture. + +You, Helen!--you who could not remember the colour of Lady N----'s _new_ +curtains after you had seen them at least a hundred times! + +Lady N---- was indifferent to me, and how could I hang up her curtains +in my memory? By what could they hold? Do you not know, Margaret ... all +the fine things that I could say, and that quartos have said before me, +about the association of ideas and sensations, &c.? Those we love +impart to uninteresting objects the power of pleasing, as the magnet can +communicate to inert metal its attractive influence. + +Till Mr. L---- was Leonora's lover I never liked him much. I do not mean +to call him inert. I always knew that he had many excellent qualities; +but there was nothing in his temper peculiarly agreeable to me, +and there was something in his character that I did not thoroughly +understand; yet, since he is become Leonora's husband, I find my +understanding much improved, and I dare say it will soon be so far +enlarged, that I shall comprehend him perfectly. + +Leonora has almost persuaded me to like Lady Olivia. Not to laugh at +her would be impossible. I wish you could see the way in which we go +on together. Our first setting out would have diverted you. Enter Lady +Olivia breathless, with an air of theatric expectation--advances to +embrace Helen, who is laughing with Leonora--her back turned towards the +side of the stage at which Olivia enters--Olivia pauses suddenly, and +measures Helen _with a long look_. What passes in Lady Olivia's mind +at this moment I do not know, but I guess that she was disappointed +woefully by my appearance. After some time she was recovered, by +Leonora's assistance, from her reverie, and presently began to admire +my vivacity, and to find out that I was Clarissa's Miss Howe--no, I was +Lady G.--no, I was Heloise's Clara: but I, choosing to be myself, and +insisting upon being an _original_, sunk again visibly and rapidly +in Olivia's opinion, till I was in imminent danger of being _nobody_, +Leonora again kindly interposed to save me from annihilation; and after +an interval of an hour or two dedicated to letter-writing, Lady Olivia +returned and seated herself beside me, resolved to decide what manner +of woman I was. Certain novels are the touchstones of feeling and +_intellect_ with certain ladies. Unluckily I was not well read in these; +and in the questions put to me from these sentimental statute-books, +I gave strange judgments, often for the husband or parents against the +heroine. I did not even admit the plea of destiny, irresistible passion, +or _entrainement_, as in all cases sufficient excuse for all errors and +crimes. Moreover, I excited astonishment by calling things by obsolete +names. I called a married woman's having a lover _a crime_! Then I was +no judge of virtues, for I thought a wife's making an intimate friend of +her husband's mistress was scandalous and mean; but this I was told +is the height of delicacy and generosity. I could not perceive the +propriety of a man's liking two women at the same time, or a woman's +having a platonic attachment for half a dozen lovers: and I owned that +I did not wish divorce could be as easily obtained in England as in +France. All which proved that I have never been out of England--a great +misfortune! I dare say it will soon be discovered that women as well as +madeira cannot be good for any thing till they have crossed the line. +But besides the obloquy of having lived only in the best company in +England, I was further disgraced by the discovery, that I am deplorably +ignorant of metaphysics, and have never been enlightened by any +philanthropic transcendental foreign professor of humanity. Profoundly +humiliated, and not having yet taken the first step towards knowledge, +the knowing that I was ignorant, I was pondering upon my sad fate, when +Lady Olivia, putting her hand upon my shoulder, summoned me into the +court of love, there in my own proper person to answer such questions as +it should please her ladyship to ask. For instance:--"Were you ever in +love?--How often?--When?--Where?--And with whom?" + +Never having stood a cross-examination in public upon these points, I +was not quite prepared to reply; and I was accused of giving evasive +answers, and convicted of blushing. Mr. L----, who was present at this +examination, enjoyed, in his grave way, my astonishment and confusion, +but said not one word. I rallied my spirits and my wits, and gave some +answers which gained the smile of the court on my side. + +From these specimens you may guess, my dear Margaret, how well this lady +and I are likely to agree. I shall divert myself with her absurdities +without scruple. Yet notwithstanding the flagrancy of these, Leonora +persuades me to think well of Olivia; indeed I am so happy here, that it +would be a difficult matter at present to make me think ill of any body. +The good qualities, which Leonora sees in her, are not yet visible to my +eyes; but Leonora's visual orb is so cleared with charity and love, that +she can discern what is not revealed to vulgar sight. Even in the very +germ, she discovers the minute form of the perfect flower. _The Olivia_ +will, I hope, in time, blow out in full perfection. + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XIII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +Monday. + +O my Gabrielle! this Helen is not precisely the person that I expected. +Instead of being a dejected beauty, she is all life and gaiety. + +I own I should like her better if she were a little more pensive; a +tinge of melancholy would, in her situation, be so becoming and natural. +My imagination was quite disappointed when I beheld the quickness of her +eyes and frequency of her smiles. Even her mode of showing affection +to Leonora was not such as could please me. This is the first visit, I +understand, that she has paid Leonora since her marriage: these friends +have been separated for many months.--I was not present at their +meeting; but I came into the room a few minutes after _Helen_'s arrival, +and I should have thought that they had seen one another but yesterday. +This _dear Helen_ was quite at ease and at home in a few moments, and +seemed as if she had been living with us for years. I make allowance for +the ease of well-bred people. Helen has lived much in the world, and has +polished manners. But the heart--the heart is superior to politeness; +and even ease, in some situations, shows a want of the delicate +_tact_ of sentiment. In a similar situation I should have been silent, +entranced, absorbed in my sensations--overcome by them, perhaps +dissolved in tears. But in Helen there appeared no symptoms of +real sensibility--nothing characteristic--nothing profound--nothing +concentrated: it was all superficial, and evaporated in the common way. +I was provoked to see Leonora satisfied. She assures me that Helen has +uncommonly strong affections, and that her character rather exceeds than +is deficient in enthusiasm. Possibly; but I am certain that Helen is in +no danger of becoming romantic. Far from being abstracted, I never +saw any one seem more interested and eager about every present +occurrence--pleased, even to childishness, with every passing trifle. +I confess that she is too much of this world for me. But I will if +possible suspend my judgment, and study her a few hours longer, before I +give you my definitive opinion. + +Thursday. + +Well, my Gabrielle, my _definitive opinion_ is that I can never love +this friend of Leonora. I said that she had lived much in the world--but +only in the English world: she has never seen any other; therefore, +though quite in a different style from Leonora, she shocks me with the +same nationality. All her ideas are exclusively English: she has what is +called English good sense, and English humour, and English prejudices of +_all sorts_, both masculine and feminine. She takes fire in defence of +her country and of her sex; nay, sometimes blushes even to awkwardness, +which one would not expect in the midst of her good breeding and +vivacity. What a difference between her vivacity and that of my charming +Gabrielle! as great as between the enlargement of your mind and the +limited nature of her understanding. I tried her on various subjects, +but found her intrenched in her own contracted notions. All new, or +liberal, or sublime ideas in morality or metaphysics she either cannot +seize, or seizes only to place in a ridiculous point of view: a certain +sign of mediocrity. Adieu, my Gabrielle. I must send you the pictures, +whether engaging or forbidding, of those with whom your Olivia is +destined to pass her time. When I have no events to relate, still I must +write to convey to you my sentiments. Alas! how imperfectly!--for I have +interdicted myself the expression of those most interesting to my heart. +Leonora, calmly prudent, coolly virtuous, knows not what it costs me +to be faithful to this cruel promise. Write to me, my sympathizing, my +tender friend! + +Your ever unhappy + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XIV. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +July 10th. + +Some very good people, like some very fine pictures, are best at a +distance. But Leonora is not one of these: the nearer you approach, the +better you like her; as in arabesque-work you may admire the beauty of +the design even at a distance, but you cannot appreciate the delicacy of +the execution till you examine it closely, and discover that every line +is formed of grains of gold, almost imperceptibly fine. I am glad that +the "small sweet courtesies of life" have been hailed by one sentimental +writer at least. The minor virtues are not to be despised, even in +comparison with the most exalted. The common rose, I have often thought, +need not be ashamed of itself even in company with the finest exotics +in a hothouse; and I remember, that your brother, in one of his letters, +observed, that the common cock makes a very respectable figure, even in +the grand Parisian assembly of all the stuffed birds and beasts in the +universe. It is a glorious thing to have a friend who will jump into a +river, or down a precipice, to save one's life: but as I do not intend +to tumble down precipices, or to throw myself into the water above half +a dozen times, I would rather have for my friends persons who would not +reserve their kindness wholly for these grand occasions, but who could +condescend to make me happy every day, and all day long, even by actions +not sufficiently sublime to be recorded in history or romance. + +Do not infer from this that I think Leonora would hesitate to make +_great_ sacrifices. I have had sufficient experience of her fortitude +and active courage of mind in the most trying circumstances, whilst many +who talked more stoutly, shrunk from _committing_ themselves by actions. + +Some maxim-maker says, that past misfortunes are good for nothing but +to be forgotten. I am not of his opinion: I think that they are good to +make us know our winter from our summer friends, and to make us feel +for those who have sustained us in adversity, that most pleasurable +sensation of the human mind--gratitude. + +But I am straying unawares into the province of sentiment, where I am +such a stranger that I shall inevitably lose my way, especially as I am +too proud to take a guide. Lady Olivia ---- may perhaps be very fond +of Leonora: and as she has every possible cause to be so, it is but +reasonable and charitable to suppose that she is: but I should never +guess it by her manner. She speaks of her friendship sometimes in the +most romantic style, but often makes observations upon _the enviable +coolness and imperturbability of Leonora's disposition_, which convinces +me that she does not understand it in the least. Those who do not really +feel, always pitch their expressions too high or too low, as deaf people +bellow, or speak in a whisper. But I may be mistaken in my suspicions of +Olivia; for _to do the lady justice_, as Mrs. Candour would say, she is +so affected, that it is difficult to know what she really feels. Those +who put on rouge occasionally, are suspected of wearing it constantly, +and never have any credit for their natural colour; presently they +become so accustomed to common rouge, that, mistaking scarlet for +pale pink, they persist in laying on more and more, till they are like +nothing human. + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XV. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +I have found it! I have found it! dear Gabrielle, rejoice with me! I +have solved the metaphysical problem, which perplexed me so cruelly, and +now I am once more at peace with myself. I have discovered the reason +why I cannot love Leonora as she merits to be loved--she has obliged me; +and the nature of obligation is such, that it supposes superiority on +one side, and consequently destroys the equality, the freedom, the ease, +the charm of friendship. Gratitude weighs upon one's heart in proportion +to the delicacy of its feelings. To minds of an ordinary sort it may be +pleasurable, for with them it is sufficiently feeble to be calm; but in +souls of a superior cast, it is a poignant, painful sensation, because +it is too strong ever to be tranquil. In short, + + "'Tis bliss but to a certain bound-- + Beyond, 'tis agony." + +For my own part, the very dread that I shall not be thought to express +enough, deprives me of the power to speak or even to feel. Fear, you +know, extinguishes affection; and of all fears, the dread of not being +sufficiently grateful, operates the most powerfully. Thus sensibility +destroys itself.--Gracious Heaven! teach me to moderate mine. + +In the nature of the obligation with which Leonora has oppressed my +heart, there is something peculiarly humiliating. Upon my return to this +country, I found the malignant genius of scandal bent upon destroying my +reputation. You have no idea of the miserable force of prejudice which +still prevails here. There are some women who emancipate themselves, but +then unluckily they are not in sufficient numbers to keep each other +in countenance in public. One would not choose to be confined to the +society of people who cannot go to court, though sometimes they take the +lead elsewhere. We are full half a century behind you in civilization; +and your revolution has, I find, afforded all our stiffened moralists +_incontrovertible_ arguments against liberty of opinion or conduct in +either sex. + +I was thunderstruck when I saw the grave and repulsive faces of all my +female acquaintance. At first I attributed every thing that was +strange and disagreeable to English reserve, of which I had retained a +sufficiently formidable idea: but I presently found that there was some +other cause which kept all these nice consciences at a distance from my +atmosphere. + +Would you believe it? I saw myself upon the point of being quite +excluded from good society. Leonora saved me from this imminent danger. +Voluntarily, and I must say nobly, if not gracefully, Leonora came +forward in my defence. Vanquishing her natural English timidity, she +braved the eyes, and tongues, and advice of all the prudes and old +dowagers my enemies, amongst whom I may count the superannuated Duchess +her mother, the proudest dowager now living. When I appeared in public +with a personage of Leonora's unblemished reputation, scandal, much +against her will, was forced to be silent, and it was to be taken for +granted that I was, in the language of prudery, perfectly innocent. +Leonora, to be consistent in goodness, or to complete her triumph in the +face of the world, invited me to accompany her to the country.--I have +now been some weeks at this superb castle. Heaven is my witness that +I came with a heart overflowing with affection; but the painful, the +agonizing sense of humiliation mixed with my tenderest sentiments, and +all became bitterness insufferable. Oh, Gabrielle! you, and perhaps you +alone upon earth, can understand my feelings. Adieu!--pity me--I must +not ask you a single question about--I must not write the name for ever +dear--What am I saying? where are my promises?--Adieu!--Adieu! + +Your unhappy + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XVI. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +July 16th. + +As I have never thought it my duty in this mortal life to mourn for the +absurdities of my fellow-creatures, I should now enjoy the pleasure of +laughing at Lady Olivia, if my propensity were not checked by a serious +apprehension that she will injure Leonora's happiness. From the most +generous motives, dear Leonora is continually anxious to soothe her +mind, to persuade and reason her into common sense, to re-establish her +in public opinion, and to make her happy. But I am convinced that Lady +Olivia never will have common sense, and consequently never can be +happy. Twenty times a day I wish her at the antipodes, for I dread lest +Leonora should be implicated in her affairs, and involved in her misery. + +Last night this foolish woman, who unluckily is graced with all the +power of words, poured forth a fine declamation in favour of divorce. In +vain Leonora reasoned, expostulated, blushed. Lady Olivia cannot blush +for herself; and though both Mr. L---- and I were present, she persisted +with that vehemence which betrays personal interest in an argument. I +suspect that she is going to try to obtain a divorce from her husband, +that she may marry her lover. Consider the consequences of this for +Leonora.--Leonora to be the friend of a woman who will risk the infamy +of a trial at Doctors' Commons! But Leonora says I am mistaken, and that +all this is only Olivia's way of talking. I wish then, that, if she does +not intend to act like a fool, she would not talk like one. I agree +with the gentleman who said that a woman who begins by playing the fool, +always ends by playing the devil. Even before me, though I certainly +never solicit her confidence, Lady Olivia talks with the most imprudent +openness of her love affairs; not, I think, from ingenuousness, but +from inability to restrain herself. Begin what subject of conversation I +will, as far from Cupid as possible, she will bring me back again to +him before I know where I am. She has no ideas but on this one subject. +Leonora, dear, kind-hearted Leonora, attributes this to the temporary +influence of a violent passion, which she assures me Olivia will +conquer, and that then all her great and good qualities will, as +if freed from enchantment, re-assume their natural vigour. +_Natural!_--there is nothing natural about this sophisticated lady. I +wish Leonora would think more of herself, and less of other people. As +to Lady Olivia's excessive sensibility, I have no faith in it. I do not +think either the lover or the passion so much to be feared for her, as +the want of a lover and the habit of thinking that it is necessary to be +in love. . . . + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XVII. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +MY DEAR L----, Paris, Hotel de Courlande, + +When you ask a countryman in England the way to the next town, he +replies, "Where do you come from, master?" and till you have answered +this question, no information can you obtain from him. You ask me what I +know of Lady Olivia ----. What is your reason for asking? Till you have +answered this question, hope for no information from me. Seriously, Lady +Olivia had left Paris before I arrived, therefore you cannot have my +judgment of her ladyship, which I presume is all you could depend +upon. If you will take hearsay evidence, and if you wish me to speak to +general character, I can readily satisfy you. Common reputed, loud and +unanimous in favour of her talents, beauty, and fashion: there is no +resisting, I am told, the fascination of her manners and conversation; +_but_ her opinions are fashionably liberal, and her practice as liberal +as her theories. Since her separation from her husband, her lover +is publicly named. Some English friends plead in her favour platonic +attachment: this, like benefit of clergy, is claimed of course for +a first offence: but Lady Olivia's Parisian acquaintance are not so +scrupulous or so old-fashioned as to think it an offence; they call it +an _arrangement_, and to this there can be no objection. As a French +gentleman said to me the other day, with an unanswerable shrug, "Tout le +monde sait que R---- est son amant; d'ailleurs, c'est la femme la plus +aimable du monde." + +As to Lady Olivia's friend, Mad. de P----, she sees a great deal of +company: her house is the resort of people of various descriptions; +ministers, foreigners, coquettes, and generals; in short, of all those +who wish, without scandal or suspicion, to intrigue either in love +or politics. Her assemblies are also frequented by a few of _l'ancien +regime_, who wish to be in favour with the present government. Mad. +de P----, of a noble family herself, and formerly much at court, has +managed matters so as to have regained all her husband's confiscated +property, and to have acquired much influence with some of the leading +men of the day. In her manners and conversation there is an odd mixture +of frivolity and address, of the airs of coquetry and the jargon of +sentiment. She has the politeness of a French Countess, with _exquisite_ +knowledge of the world and of _les convenances_, joined to that freedom +of opinion which marks the present times. In the midst of all these +inconsistencies, it is difficult to guess what her real character may +be. At first sight I should pronounce her to be a silly woman, governed +by vanity and the whim of the moment: but those who know her better than +I do, believe her to be a woman of considerable talents, inordinately +fond of power, and uniformly intent upon her own interest, using +coquetry only as a means to govern our sex, and frivolity as a mask +for her ambition. In short, Mad. de P---- is a perfect specimen of the +combination of an _intrigante_ and an _elegante_, a combination often +found in Paris. Here women mingle politics and gallantry--men mix +politics and epicurism--which is the better mixture? + +I have business of importance to my country to transact to-day, +_therefore_ I am going to dine with the modern Apicius. Excuse me, my +dear friend, if I cannot stay at present to answer your questions about +divorce. I must be punctual. What sort of a negotiator can he make who +is too late at a minister's dinner? Five minutes might change the face +of Europe. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XVIII. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +My incomparable Olivia! your letters are absolutely divine. I am +_maussade_, I _vegetate_. I cannot be said to live the days when I do +not hear from you. Last Thursday I was disappointed of one of these dear +letters, and _Brave-et-tendre_ told me frankly, that I was so little +amiable he should not have known me.--As to the rest, pardon me for +not writing punctually: I have been really in a chaos of business and +pleasure, and I do not know which fatigues most. But I am obliged to +attend the ministers every day, for the sake of my friends. + +A thousand and a thousand thanks for your pictures of your English +friends: sketches by a masterly hand must be valuable, whatever the +subject. I would rather have the pictures than the realities. Your Helen +and your Lady Leonora are too good for me, and I pity you from my soul +for being shut up in that old castle. I suppose it is like an old +castle in Dauphiny, where I once spent a week, and where I was nearly +frightened to death by the flapping of the old tapestry behind my bed, +and by the bats which flew in through the broken windows. They say, +however, that our _chateaux_ and yours are something different. Of this +I have no clear conception. + +I send you three comforters in your prison--a billet-doux, a new novel, +and a pattern of my sandal: a billet-doux from R---- says every thing +for itself; but I must say something for the new novel. Zenobie, which +I now send you, is the declared rival of Seraphin. Parties have run high +on both sides, and applications were made and inuendoes discovered, and +wit and sentiment came to close combat; and, as usual, people talked +till they did not understand themselves. For a fortnight, wherever +one went, the first words to be heard on entering every _salon_ +were Seraphine and Zenobie.--Peace or war.--Mlle. Georges and Mlle. +Duchesnois were nothing to Seraphine and Zenobie. For Heaven's sake tell +me which you prefer! But I fear they will be no more talked of before I +have your answer. To say the truth, I am tired of both heroines, for a +fortnight is too long to talk or think of any one thing. + +I flatter myself you will like my sandals: they are my own invention, +and my foot really shows them to advantage. You know I might say, as +Du P----said of himself, "J'ai un pied dont la petitesse echappe a la +vitesse de la pensee." I thought my poor friend Mad. Dumarais would +have died with envy, the other day, when I appeared in them at her ball, +which, by-the-bye, was in all its decorations as absurd and in as bad +taste as usual. For the most part these _nouveaux riches_ lavish money, +but can never purchase taste or a sense of propriety. All is gold: but +that is not enough; or rather that is too much. In spite of all that +both the Indies, China, Arabia, Egypt, and even Paris can do for them, +they will be ever out of place, in the midst of their magnificence: they +will never even know how to ruin themselves nobly. They must live and +die as they were born, ridiculous. Now I would rather not exist than +feel myself ridiculous. But I believe no one living, not even le petit +d'Heronville, knows himself to be an object of ridicule. There are no +looking-glasses for the mind, and I question whether we should use them +if there were. D'Heronville is just as you left him, and as much my +amusement as he used to be yours. He goes on with an eternal galimatias +of patriotism, with such a self-sufficient air and decided tone! never +suspecting that he says only what other people make him say, and that he +is listened to, only to find out what _some people_ think. Many will +say before fools, what they would not hazard before wise men; not +considering that fools can repeat as well as parrots. I once heard a +great man remark, that the only spies fit to be trusted are those who do +not know themselves to be such; who have no salary but what their vanity +pays them, and who are employed without being accredited. + +But treve de politique!--My charming Olivia, I know, abhors politics, as +much as I detest metaphysics, from all lips or pens but hers. Now I must +tell you something of your friends here. + +O---- talks nonsense as agreeably as ever, and dances as divinely. 'Tis +a pity he cannot always dance, for then he would not ruin himself at +play. He wants me to get him a regiment--as if I had any power!--or +as if I would use it for this purpose, when I knew that my interesting +friend Mad. Q----would break her poor little heart if he were to quit +her. + +_Mon Coeur_ is as pretty as ever; but she is now in affliction. She +has lost her dear little dog Corisonde. He died suddenly; almost in her +arms! She will erect a monument to him in her charming _jardin Anglois_. +This will occupy her, and then "Time, the comforter"--Inimitable +Voltaire! + +Our dear _Brillante_ has just had a superb _hommage_ from her lover +the commissary--a necklace and bracelets of the finest; pearls: but she +cannot wear them yet: her brother having died last week, she is in +deep mourning. This brother was not upon good terms with her. He never +forgave the divorce. He thought it a disgrace to have a sister _une +divorcee_; but he was full of prejudice, poor man, and he is dead, and +we need think no more of him or of his faults. + +Our ci-devant chanoine, who married that little Meudon, is as miserable +as possible, and as ridiculous: for he is jealous of his young wife, +and she is a _franche-coquette_. The poor man looks as if he repented +sincerely of his errors. What a penitent a coquette can make of a +husband! Bourdaloue and Massillon would have tried their powers on this +man's heart in vain. + +Did I tell you that Mad. G---- is a second time divorced? But this time +it is her husband's doing, not hers. This handsome husband has spent +all the immense fortune she brought him, and now procures a divorce for +_incompatibility of temper_, and is going to marry another lady, richer +than Mad. G----, and as great a fool. This system of divorce, though +convenient, is not always advantageous to women. However, in one point +of view, I wonder that the rigid moralists do not defend it, as the only +means of making a man in love with his own wife. A man divorces; the law +does not permit him to marry the same woman afterwards; of course +this prohibition makes him fall in love with her. Of this we have many +edifying examples besides Fanchette, who, though she was so beautiful, +and a tolerable actress, would never have drawn all Paris to the +Vaudeville if she had not been a _divorcee_, and if it had not been +known that her husband, who played the lover of the piece, was dying +to marry her again. Apropos, Mad. St. Germain is acting one of her own +romances, in the high sublime style, and threatens to poison herself for +love of her perjured inconstant--but it will not do. + +Madame _la Grande_ was near having a sad accident the other night: in +crossing the Pont-neuf her horses took fright; for there was a crowd +and _embarras_, a man having just drowned himself--not for love, but +for hunger. How many men, women, and children, do you think drowned +themselves in the Seine last year? Upwards of two hundred. This is +really shocking, and a stop should be put to it by authority. It +absolutely makes me shudder and reflect; but _apres nous le deluge_ was +La Pompadour's maxim, and should be ours. + +Mad. Folard _se coiffe en cheveux_, and Mad. Rocroix crowns herself with +roses, whilst all the world knows that either of them is old enough +to be my mother. In former days a woman could not wear flowers after +thirty, and was _bel esprit_ or _devote_ at forty, for it was thought +bad taste to do otherwise. But now every body may be as young as they +please, or as ridiculous. Women have certainly gained by the new order +of things. + +Our poor friend _Vermeille_ se meurt de la poitrine--a victim to tea and +late hours. She is an interesting creature, and my heart bleeds for her: +she will never last till winter. + +Do you know, it is said, we shall soon have no wood to burn. What can +have become of all our forests? People should inquire after them. The +Venus de Medici has at last found her way down the Seine. It is not +determined yet where to place her: but she is at Paris, and that is a +great point gained for her. You complained that the Apollo stands with +his back so near the wall, that there is no seeing half the beauties of +his shoulders. If I have any influence, Venus shall not be so served. I +have been to see her. She is certainly divine--but not French. I do not +despair of seeing her surpassed by our artists. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia. I should have finished my letter yesterday; +but when I came home in the morning, expecting to have a moment sacred +to you and friendship, whom should I find established in an arm-chair in +my cabinet but our old Countess _Cidevant_. There was no retreat for +me. In the midst of my concentrated rage, I was obliged to advance and +embrace her, and there was an end of happiness for the day. The pitiless +woman kept me till it was even too late to dress, talking over her +family misfortunes; as if they were any thing to me. She wants to get +her son employed, but her pride will not let her pay her court properly, +and she wants me to do it for her. Not I, truly. I should shut my doors +against her but for the sake of her nephew _le roue_, who is really a +pretty young man. My angel, I embrace you tenderly. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XIX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +How melancholy to a feeling heart is the moment when illusion vanishes, +whether that illusion has been created by the magic of love or of +friendship! How many such moments, Gabrielle, has your unfortunate +friend been doomed to endure! Alas! when will treacherous fancy cease to +throw a deceitful brilliancy upon each new object! + +Perhaps I am too delicate--but R----'s note, enclosed in your last, my +Gabrielle, was unlike his former letters. It was not passionate, it was +only reasonable. A man who can reason is no longer in love. The manner +in which he speaks of divorce shocked me beyond expression. Is it for +him to talk of scruples when upon this subject I have none? I own to you +that my pride and my tenderness are sensibly wounded. Is it for him to +convince me that I am in the wrong? I shall not be at ease till I +hear from you again, my amiable friend: for my residence here becomes +insupportable. But a few short weeks are past since I fancied Leonora an +angel, and now she falls below the ordinary standard of mortals. But +a few short weeks are past since, in the full confidence of finding in +Leonora a second self, a second Gabrielle, I eagerly developed to her my +inmost soul; yet now my heart closes, I fear never more to open. The sad +conviction, that we have but few ideas, and no feelings in common, +stops my tongue when I attempt to speak, chills my heart when I begin to +listen. + +Do you know, my Gabrielle, I have discovered that Leonora is +inordinately selfish? For all other faults I have charity; but +selfishness, which has none to give, must expect none. O divine +sensibility, defend me from this isolation of the heart! All thy +nameless sorrows, all thy heart-rending tortures, would I a thousand +times rather endure. Leonora's selfishness breaks out perpetually; and, +alas! it is of the most inveterate, incurable kind: every thing that is +immediately or remotely connected with self she loves, and loves with +the most provoking pertinacity. Her mother, her husband, she adores, +because they are her own; and even her sister's children, because she +considers them, she says, as her own. All and every possible portion +of self she cherishes with the most sordid partiality. All that touches +these relations touches her; and every thing which is theirs, or, in +other words, which is hers, she deems excellent and sacred. Last night I +just hazarded a word of ridicule upon some of the obsolete prejudices +of that august personage, that Duchess of old tapestry, her still living +ancestor. I wish, Gabrielle, you had seen Leonora's countenance. Her +colour rose up to her temples, her eyes lightened with indignation, +and her whole person assumed a dignity, which might have killed a +presumptuous lover, or better far, might have enslaved him for life. +What folly to waste all this upon such an occasion! But selfishness +is ever blind to its real interests. Leonora is so bigoted to this old +woman, that she is already in mind an old woman herself. She fancies +that she traces a resemblance to her mother, and of course to dear self +in her infant, and she looks upon it with such doting eyes, and talks +to it with such exquisite tones of fondness, as are to me, who know +the source from which they proceed, quite ridiculous and disgusting. An +infant, who has no imaginable merit, and, to impartial eyes, no charms, +she can love to this excess from no motive but pure _egotism_. Then +her husband--but this subject I must reserve for another letter. I am +summoned to walk with him this moment. + +Adieu, charming Gabrielle, + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XX. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +MY DEAR L----, Paris, 180--. + +Enclosed I send you, according to your earnest desire, Cambaceres' +reflections upon the intended new law of divorce. Give me leave to ask +why you are so violently interested upon this occasion? Do you envy +France this blessing? Do you wish that English husbands and wives should +have the power of divorcing each other at pleasure for _incompatibility +of temper_? And have you calculated the admirable effect this would +produce upon the temper both of the weaker and the stronger sex? To bear +and forbear would then be no longer necessary. Every happy pair might +quarrel and part at a moment's notice--at a year's notice at most. And +their children? The wisdom of Solomon would be necessary to settle the +just division of the children. I have this morning been attending a +court of law to hear a famous trial between two husbands: the +abdicated lord a ci-devant noble, and the reigning husband a ci-devant +grand-vicaire, who has _reformed_. Each party claimed a right to the +children by the first marriage, for the children were minors entitled to +large fortunes. The _reformed_ grand-vicaire pleaded his own cause with +astonishing assurance, amidst the discountenancing looks, murmurs, and +almost amidst the groans of disapprobation from the majority of the +auditors. His powers of impudence, however, failed him at last. I sat +on the bench behind him, and saw that his ears had the grace to blush. +After another hearing, this cause, which had lasted four years, was +decided; and the first husband and real father was permitted to have the +guardianship of his own children. During the four years' litigation, +the friends of the parties, from the grandmother downwards, were all +at irreconcileable variance. What became of the children all this time? +Their mother was represented during the trial as she deserved to be, as +a wretch void of shame and gratitude. The father was universally pitied, +though his rival painted him as a coward, who during the revolution had +left his children to save himself by flight; and as a fool, who had +left his wife to the care of a profligate grand-vicaire. Divorce is not +countenanced by opinion in Paris, though permitted by law. With a few +exceptions in extraordinary cases, I have observed that _les divorcees_ +are not received into good society. + +To satiate your curiosity, I send you all the papers that have +been written lately on this subject, of which you will find that of +Cambaceres the best. The wits say that he is an impartial judge. I +presume you want these pamphlets for some foolish friend; for yourself +you can never want them, blessed as you are with such a wife as Lady +Leonora L--. I am not surprised that profligate men should wish for +freedom of divorce, because it would save them damages in Doctors' +Commons: but you rather astonish me--if a wise man should be astonished +at any thing in these days--by assuring me that you have lately heard +this system eloquently defended by a female philosopher. What can women +expect from it but contempt? Next to polygamy, it would prove the most +certain method of destroying the domestic happiness of the sex, as well +as their influence and respectability in society. But some of the dear +creatures love to talk of what they do not understand, and usually show +their eloquence to the greatest advantage, by taking the wrong side of a +question. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXI. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +From selfishness to jealousy there is but one step, or rather there is +none; for jealousy of a certain sort is but selfishness in another form. +How different this passion as I have felt it, and as I see it shown! In +some characters it is the symptom of amiable and exquisite sensibility; +in others of odious coldness and contraction of heart. In some of our +sex it is, you know, my Gabrielle, a delicate fear, a tender anxiety, +a proof of ardent passion; in others it is a mere love of power, a +disgusting struggle for the property of a heart, an absurd assertion of +rights and prerogatives. Surely no prejudice of education or institution +can be more barbarous than that which teaches a wife that she has an +indefeasible and exclusive right both to the affections and the fidelity +of her husband. I am astonished to hear it avowed by any woman who has +the slightest pretensions to delicacy of sentiment, or liberality of +mind. I should expect to find this vulgar prejudice only among the +downright dames, who talk of _my good man_, and lay a particular +emphasis on the possessive pronoun _my_; who understand literally, +and expect that their spouses should adhere punctually to every coarse +article of our strange marriage vow. + +In certain points of view, my Gabrielle, jealousy is undoubtedly the +strongest proof of an indelicate mind. Yet, if I mistake not, the +delicate, the divine Leonora, is liable to this terrestrial passion. +Yesterday evening, as I was returning from a _stroll_ in the park with +Mr. L----, we met Leonora; and methought she looked embarrassed at +meeting us. Heaven knows there was not the slightest occasion for +embarrassment, and I could not avoid being surprised at such weakness, I +had almost said folly, in a woman of Leonora's sense, especially as she +knows how my heart is attached. In the first moments of our intimacy my +confidence was unbounded, as it ever is in those I love. Aware as I was +of the light in which the prejudices of her education and her country +make her view such connexions, yet I scrupled not, with the utmost +candour, to confess the unfortunate attachment which had ruled my +destiny. After this confidence, do not suspicion and jealousy on her +part appear strange? Were Mr. L---- and I shut up for life in the same +prison, were we left together upon a desert island, were we alone in the +universe, I could never think of him. And Leonora does not see this! How +the passions obscure and degrade the finest understandings! But perhaps +I do her injustice, and she felt nothing of what her countenance +expressed. It is certain, however, that she was silent for some moments +after she joined us, from what cause she knows best--so was Mr. L----, +I suppose from English awkwardness--so was I, from pure astonishment. At +length, in pity of Leonora, I broke the silence. I had recourse to the +beauties of nature. + +"What a heavenly evening!" said I. "We have been listening to the songs +of the birds, enjoying this fresh breeze of nature's perfumes." Leonora +said something about the superiority of nature's perfumes to those of +art; and observed, "how much more agreeable the smell of flowers appears +in the open air than in confined rooms!" Whilst she spoke she looked +at her husband, as she continually does for assent and approbation. He +assented, but apparently without knowing what he was saying; and only by +one of his English monosyllables. I alone was at ease. + +"Can any thing be more beautiful," continued I, looking back, "than the +soft mellow foliage of those woods, and the exquisite tints of their +rich colouring? What delicious melancholy such an evening spreads over +the heart!--what reflections!--what recollections!--Oh, Leonora, look at +the lights upon that mountain, and the deep shadows upon the lake +below. Just such scenes have I admired, by such have I been entranced in +Switzerland." + +Leonora put her arm within mine--she seemed to have no objection to +my thoughts going back to Switzerland--I sighed--she pressed my hand +affectionately--I wiped the starting tear from my eye. Mr. L---- looked +at me with something like surprise whilst I repeated involuntarily, + + "I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you, + For morn is approaching your charms to restore, + Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew." + +I paused, recollecting myself, struck with _the ridicule_ of repeating +verses, and of indulging feelings in which no one perhaps sympathized. + +"Those are beautiful lines," said Leonora: "that poem has always been a +favourite of mine." + +"And of mine, also," said Mr. L----. + +"I prefer Beattie's Hermit to all other hermits," said Leonora. + +I was not in a mood calmly to discuss with her a point of criticism--I +walked on in reverie: but in this I was not allowed to indulge. Mr. +L----asked if I could not recollect some more of the Hermit--I pleaded +the worst memory in the world--a memory that can never recollect any +poem perfectly by rote, only the touches of genius or sensibility that +strike me--and those are so few! + +"But in this poem there are so many," said Leonora. I am sure she +insisted only to please her husband, and pleaded against her real +feelings, purposely to conceal them. He persisted in his request, with +more warmth than usual. I was compelled to rouse myself from my reverie, +and to call back my distant thoughts. I repeated all that I could +recollect of the poem. Mr. L---- paid me a profusion of compliments upon +the sweetness of my voice, and my taste in reciting. He was pleased +to find that my manner and tones gave an Italian expression to English +poetry, which to him was a peculiar charm. It reminded him of some +Signora, whom he had known at Florence. This was the first time I had +learned that he had been abroad. I was going to explore the foreign +field of conversation which he thus opened; but just at that moment +Leonora withdrew her arm from mine, and I fancied that she coloured. +This might be only my fancy, or the natural effect of her stooping to +gather a flower. We were now within sight of the castle. I pointed to +one of the turrets over a Gothic window, upon which the gleams of the +setting sun produced a picturesque effect; my glove happened to be off, +and Leonora unluckily saw that her husband's eyes were fixed upon my +arm, instead of the turret to which I was pointing. 'Twas a trifle which +I never should have noticed, had she not forced it upon my attention. +She actually turned pale. I had the presence of mind not to put on my +glove. + +I must observe more accurately; I must decide whether this angelic +Leonora is, or is not susceptible of the mortal passion ycleped +jealousy. I confess my curiosity is awakened. + +Adieu, my ever amiable Gabrielle. OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +When the passions are asleep we are apt to fancy they are dead. I verily +thought that curiosity was dead within me, it had lain so long dormant, +while stronger and tenderer sentiments waked in full activity; but +now that absence and distance from their object lull them to temporary +repose, the vulgar subordinate passions are roused, and take their +turn to reign. My curiosity was so strongly excited upon the subject of +Leonora's jealousy, that I could not rest, without attempting to obtain +satisfaction. Blame me not, dearest Gabrielle, for in my situation you +would inevitably have done the same, only that you would have done it +with more address; with that peculiar, inimitable address, which I envy +above all your accomplishments. But address is a delicate native of +France, and though it may now and then exist as a stranger, I doubt +whether it can ever be naturalized in our rude climate. All the attempts +I have made are, however, encouraging enough--you shall judge. My object +was, to ascertain the existence or non-existence of Leonora's jealousy. +I set about it with a tolerably careless assurance, and followed up the +hint which accident had thrown out for my ingenuity to work upon. You +remember, or at least I remember, that Leonora withdrew her arm from +mine, and stooped to gather a flower at the moment when her husband +mentioned Florence, and the resemblance of my voice to that of some +Italian charmer. The next day I happened to play some of my sweetest +Italian airs, and to accompany them with my voice. The music-room opens +into the great hall: Leonora and her husband were in the hall, talking +to some visitors. The voices were soon hushed, as I expected, by the +magic sounds, but, what I did not expect, Leonora was the first who +led the way into the music-room. Was this affectation? These _simple_ +characters sometimes baffle all the art of the decipherer. I should +have been clear that it was affectation, had Leonora been prodigal of +compliments on my performance; but she seemed only to listen for her own +pleasure, and left it to Mr. L---- to applaud. Whilst I was preparing to +play over again the air which pleased him most, the two little nephews +came running to beg Leonora would follow them to look at some trifle, +some coloured shadow, upon the garden-wall, I think they said: she +let them lead her off, leaving _us_ together. This did not seem like +jealousy. I was more at a loss than ever, and determined to make fresh +and more decisive experiments. Curiosity, you know, is heightened by +doubt. To cure myself of curiosity, it is necessary therefore to put my +mind out of doubt. Admire the practical application of metaphysics! But +metaphysics always make you yawn. Adieu for to-day. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXIII. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +L---- Castle. + +Dear Margaret, an uncle of mine, who, ever since I can remember, seemed +to me cut out for an old bachelor, writes me word that he is just going +to be married, and that I must grace his nuptials. I cannot refuse, for +he has always been very kind to me, and we have no right to cut +people out for old bachelors. That I am sorry to leave Leonora, it +is superfluous to tell you; but this is the melancholy part of the +business, on which I make it a principle to dwell as little as possible. + +Lady Olivia must be heartily glad that I am going, for I have been +terribly troublesome to her by my gaiety and my _simplicity_. I shall +lose all the pleasure I had promised myself in seeing the _denouement_ +of the comedy of _The Sentimental Coquette_; or, _The Heroine unmasked_. + +I made Leonora almost angry with me this morning, by a hint or two I +gave upon this subject. She looked so very grave, that I was afraid of +my own thoughts, and I dared not explain myself farther. Intimate as I +am with her, there are points on which I am sure that she would never +make me her confidante. I think that she has not been in her usual good +spirits lately; and though she treats Olivia with uniform kindness, +and betrays not, even to my watchful eyes, the slightest symptom of +jealousy, yet I suspect that she sees what is going forward, and she +suffers in secret. Now, if she would let me explain myself, I could +set her heart at ease, by the assurance that Mr. L---- is only acting +a part. If her affection for her husband did not almost blind her, she +would have as much penetration as I have--which you will allow, my dear +Margaret, is saying a great deal. + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXIV. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +Congratulate me, my charming Gabrielle, upon being delivered from +the unfeeling gaiety of that friend of Leonora, that Helen of whom I +formerly sent you a too flattering portrait. Her departure relieves me +from many painful sensations. Dissonance to a musical ear is not +more horrid, than want of harmony between characters, to the soul of +sensibility. Between Helen and me there was a perpetual discord of ideas +and sentiments, which fatigued me inexpressibly. Besides, I began to +consider her as a spy upon my actions. But there, I believe, I did her +injustice, for she was too much occupied with her own trifling thoughts +to have any alarming powers of observation. + +Since her departure we have been very gay. Yesterday we had a large +company at dinner; some of the neighbouring families, whom I expected to +find mere country visitors, that were come a dozen miles to show their +antediluvian finery, retire half an hour after dinner, spoil coffee with +cream, say nothing, but at their appointed hours rise, ring for their +superb carriages, and go home by moonlight. However, to my astonishment, +I found myself in a society of well-bred, well-informed persons; the +women ready to converse, and the men, even after dinner, not impatient +to get rid of them. Two or three of the company had travelled, and I was +glad to talk to them of Italy, Switzerland, and France. Mr. L---- I knew +would join in this conversation. I discovered that he came to Florence +just as I was leaving it. I was to have been at our ambassador's one +evening when he was there; but a headache prevented me. These little +coincidences, you know, my Gabrielle, draw people closer together. I +remember to have heard of a Mr. L---- at Florence, who was a passionate +admirer of our sex. He was then unmarried. I little thought that this +was the same person. Beneath a cold exterior these Englishmen often +conceal a wondrous quantity of enthusiasm--volcanoes under snow. +Curiosity, dear indefatigable curiosity, supported me through the +labour of clearing away the snow, and I came to indubitable traces of +unextinguished and unextinguishable fire. The character of L---- is +quite different from what I had imagined it to be. It is an _excellent +study_. We had a long and interesting conversation upon national +manners, especially upon those of the females of all nations. He +concluded by quoting the words of your friend M. le Vicomte de Segur, +"If I were permitted to choose, I should prefer a French woman for +my friend, an English woman for my wife, and a Polish lady for my +mistress." + +From this, it seems, that I am mistaken about the Italian signora, +or else Mr. L---- has an enlarged charity for the graces of all +nations.--More subject for curiosity. + +In the evening, before the company separated, we were standing on the +steps of the great hall, looking at a fine effect of moonlight, and I +pointed out the shadow of the arches of a bridge. From moonlight we went +on to lamplight, and many pretty things were said about art and nature. +A gentleman, who had just returned from Paris, talked of the reflection +of the lamps in the Seine, which one sees in crossing the Pont-Royal, +and which, as he said, appear like a colonnade of fire. As soon as he +had finished _prosing_ about his colonnade, I turned to Mr. L----, and +asked if he remembered the account which Coxe the traveller gives of +the Polish princess Czartoryski's charming _fete champetre_ and the +illuminated rustic bridge of one arch, the reflection of which in the +water was so strong as to deceive the eye, and to give the whole the +appearance of a brilliant circle suspended in the air. Mr. L---- seemed +enchanted with my description, and eagerly said that he would some night +have a bridge in his improvements, illuminated, that _we_ (half-gallant +Englishman!) might see the effect. I carelessly replied, that probably +it would have a good effect: I would then have talked on other subjects +to the lady next me: but an Englishman cannot suddenly change the course +of his conversation. Mr. L---- still persisted in asking a variety of +questions about this Polish fete. I excused myself; for if you satisfy +curiosity you are no longer sublime; besides it is so pedantic to +remember _accurately_ any thing one meets with in books. I assured him +that I had forgotten the particulars. + +My countrymen are wondrous persevering, when once roused. This morning, +when I came down to breakfast, I found Mr. L---- with a volume of Coxe's +travels in his hand. He read aloud to Leonora the whole description of +the illuminated gardens, and of a Turkish tent of curious workmanship, +and of a pavilion, supported by pillars, ornamented with wreaths of +flowers. Leonora's birthday is some time in the next month; and her +husband, probably to prevent any disagreeable little feelings, proposed +that the _fete champetre_, he designed to give, should be on that day. +She seemed rather to discourage the thing. Now to what should this +indifference be attributed? To jealousy I should positively decide, but +that two reasons oppose this idea, and keep me in doubt. She was not +within hearing at the moonlight conference, and knew nothing of my +having mentioned the Polish fete, or of her husband's having proposed +to illuminate the bridge for me. Besides, I remember, the other day when +she was reading the new French novel you sent me, she expressed great +dislike to the sentimental fetes, which the lover prepares for his +mistress. I would give more than I dare tell you, my dear Gabrielle, to +be able to decide whether she is jealous of me or not. But where was I? +Mr. L----, who had set his heart upon the _fete champetre_, persisted, +and combatted her antipathy by reason. Foolish man! he should have tried +compliments, or caresses--if I had not been present. + +"My dear Leonora," said he, "I think you carry your dislike to these +things too far. They are more according to the French than to the +English taste, I know; but we should not be influenced by national +prejudice. I detest the ostentation and the affectation of sentiment +as much as you can; but where the real feeling exists, every mode of +showing kindness is agreeable. You must let us have this little fete on +your birthday. Besides the pleasure it will give me, I really think it +is useful to mix ideas of affection with amusement." + +She smiled most graciously, and replied, that she would with pleasure +accept of kindness in any form from him. In short, she was willing to +have the fete, when it was clearly explained that she was to be the +object of it. Is not this proof positive of jealousy? And yet my +curiosity is not thoroughly satisfied. I must go on; for Leonora's sake +I must go on. When I have been assured of the truth, I shall know how +to conduct myself; and you, who know my heart, will do me the justice to +believe, that when I am convinced of my friend's weakness, I shall spare +it with the most delicate caution: but till I am convinced, I am in +perpetual danger of blundering by my careless, inadvertent innocence. +You smile, Gabrielle; dear malicious Gabrielle, even in your malice you +are charming! Adieu! Pray for the speedy extinction of my curiosity. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXV. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +You say, my dearest mother, that of late, my letters have been more +constrained and less cheerful than usual, and you conjure me not to +conceal from you any thing which may concern my happiness. I have ever +found you my best and most indulgent friend, and there is not a thought +or feeling of my mind, however weak or foolish, that I desire to conceal +from you. No one in this world is more--is so much interested in +my happiness; and, in every doubtful situation, I have always been +accustomed to apply to your unerring judgment for assistance. Your +strength of mind, your enlightened affection, would support and direct +me, would at once show me how I ought to act, and inspire me with +courage and fortitude sufficient to be worthy of your esteem and of +my own. At no period of my life, not even when my heart first felt the +confused sensations of a passion that was new to it, did I ever want or +wish for a friend so much as at this instant: and yet I hesitate whether +I ought to ask even your advice, whether I ought to indulge myself in +speaking of my feelings even to my mother. I refrained from giving the +slightest intimation of them to my dear Helen, though she often led to +this subject, and seemed vexed by my reserve. I thought it not right +to accept of her sympathy. From her kindness I had every consolation +to expect, but no assistance from her counsels, because she does not +understand Mr. L----'s character, and I could plainly perceive that she +had an erroneous idea so fixed in her fancy, as to prevent her seeing +things in their true light. I am afraid of imputing blame where I most +wish to avoid it: I fear to excite unjust suspicions; I dread that if I +say the whole, you will imagine that I mean much more than I say. + +I have not been quite well lately, and my mind probably is more apt +to be alarmed than it would be, if my health were stronger. All that I +apprehend, may exist merely in my own distempered imagination. Do not +then suppose others are to blame, when perhaps I only am in fault. I +have for some time past been dissatisfied with myself, and have had +reason to be so: I do not say this from any false humility; I despise +that affectation; but I say it with a sincere desire that you may assist +me to cure myself of a weakness, which, if it were to grow upon my mind, +must render me miserable, and might destroy the happiness of the person +I love best upon earth. You know that I am not naturally or habitually +of a suspicious temper, but I am conscious of having lately felt a +disposition to jealousy. I have been spoiled by the excessive attention, +which my husband paid to me in the first year of our marriage. + +You warned me not to fancy that he could continue always a lover. I +did not, at least I tried not to expect such an impossibility. I was +prepared for the change, at least I thought I was: yet now the time, the +inevitable time is come, and I have not the fortitude to bear it as I +ought. If I had never known what it was to possess his love, I might +perhaps be content with his friendship. If I could feel only friendship +for him, I should now, possibly, be happy. I know that I have the first +place in his esteem: I do believe--I should be miserable indeed if I +did not believe--that I have the first place in his affection. But this +affection is certainly different from what it once was. I wish I could +forget the difference. No: I retract that wish; however painful the +comparison, the recollection of times that are past is delightful to my +heart. Yet, my dear mother, if such times are never to return, it would +be better for me to forget that they have ever been. It would be wiser +not to let my imagination recur to the past, which could then tend only +to render me discontented with the present and with the future. The +FUTURE! how melancholy that word sounds to me! What a dreary length of +prospect it brings to my view! How young I am, how many years may I have +to live, and how little motive have I left in life! Those which used to +act most forcibly upon me, have now scarcely power to move my mind. The +sense of duty, it is true, raises me to some degree of exertion; I hope +that I do not neglect the education of the two children whom my poor +sister bequeathed to my care. When my mind was at ease they were my +delight; but now I feel that I am rather interrupted than interested by +their childish gaiety and amusements. + +I am afraid that I am growing selfish, and I am sure that I have become +shamefully indolent. I go on with certain occupations every day from +habit, not from choice; my mind is not in them. I used to flatter myself +that I did many things, from a sense of duty and of general benevolence, +which I am convinced were done merely from a particular wish to please, +and to make myself more and more beloved by the object of my fondest +affection. Disappointed in this hope, I sink into indolence, from which +the desire to entertain my friends is not sufficient to rouse me. Helen +has been summoned away; but I believe I told you that Mr. and Mrs. +F----, whose company is peculiarly agreeable to my taste, and Lady M---- +and her amiable daughters, and your witty friend ----, are with us. In +such society I am ashamed of being stupid; yet I cannot contribute to +the amusement of the company, and I feel surprised at their animation +and sprightliness. It seems as if I was looking on at dances, without +hearing any music. Sometimes I fear that my silence should be observed, +and then I begin to talk, without well knowing what I am saying. I +confine myself to the most common-place subjects, and hesitate, from the +dread of saying something quite foreign to the purpose. What must Mr. +L---- think of my stupidity? But he does not, I believe, perceive it: he +is so much occupied with--with other objects. I am glad that he does not +see all that passes in my mind, for he might despise me if he knew that +I am so miserable. I did not mean to use so strong an expression; +but now it is written, I will not blot it out, lest you should fancy +something worse than the reality. I am not, however, yet so weak as to +be seriously _miserable_ when I have no real cause to be so. The truth +is ----. Now you know this phrase is a tacit confession that all that +has been said before is false. The real truth is ----. By my prefacing +so long you may be sure that I have reason to be ashamed of this +real truth's coming out. The real truth is, that I have been so long +accustomed to be the first and _only_ object of Mr. L----'s thoughts, +that I cannot bear to see him think of any thing else. Yes, _things_ +I can bear; but not _persons_--female persons; and there is one person +here, who is so much more agreeable and entertaining than I am, that she +engrosses very naturally almost all his attention. I am not _envious_, +I am sure; for I could once admire all Lady Olivia's talents and +accomplishments, and no one could be more charmed than I was, with her +fascinating manners and irresistible powers of pleasing; but when those +irresistible powers may rob me of the heart of my beloved husband--of +the whole happiness of my life--how can I admire them? All I can promise +is to preserve my mind from the meanness of suspicion. I can do my rival +justice. I can believe, and entreat you to believe, that she does not +wish to be my rival: that she is perfectly innocent of all design to +injure me, and that she is not aware of the impression she has made. I, +who know every change of Mr. L----'s countenance, every inflexion of +his voice, every turn of his mind, can see too plainly what she +cannot discern. I should indeed have thought, that no woman, whom he +distinguished or preferred in any degree, could avoid perceiving it, his +manner is so expressive, so flattering; but perhaps this appears so only +to me--a woman, who does not love him, may see things very differently. +Lady Olivia can be in no danger, because her heart, fortunately for +me, is prepossessed in favour of another; and a woman whose heart is +occupied by one object is absolutely blind, as I well know, to all +others. With this security I ought to be satisfied; for I believe no one +inspires a lasting passion, without sharing it. + +I am summoned to give my opinion about certain illuminations and +decorations for a _fete champetre_ which Mr. L---- is so kind as to +give in honour of my birthday--just at the time I am complaining of his +neglect!--No, dear mother, I hope I have not complained of _him_, but +of _myself_:--and it is your business to teach your daughter to be more +reasonable. Write soon and fully to + +Your affectionate + +LEONORA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXVI. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +This fine _fete champetre_ is over.--Expect no description of it from +me, Gabrielle, for I am horribly out of humour. The whole pleasure of +the evening was destroyed by the most foolish circumstance imaginable. +Leonora's jealousy is now evident to more eyes than mine. No farther +doubt upon the subject can remain. My curiosity is satisfied; but I am +now left to reproach myself, for having gone so far to ascertain what +I ought to have taken for granted. All these good English wives are +jealous; so jealous, that no one, who has any pretensions to beauty, +wit, or _amiability_, can live with them. They can have no _society_ +in our sense of the word; of course they must live shut up in their own +dismal houses, with their own stupid families, the faithful husband +and wife sitting opposite to each other in their own chimney corners, +yawning models of constancy. And this they call virtue! How the meanest +vices usurp the name of virtue! Leonora's is a jealousy of the most +illiberal and degrading species; a jealousy of the temper, not of the +heart. She is too cold to feel the passion of love.--She never could +be in love; of that I am certain. She is too reasonable, too prudish. +Besides, to imagine that she could be in love with her own husband, +and after eighteen months' marriage--the thing is absurd! the thing is +impossible! No, she deceives herself or him, or both, if she pretends +that her jealousy arises from love, from what you and I, Gabrielle, +understand by the word. Passion, and passion only, can plead a just +excuse of its own excesses. Were Leonora in love, I could pardon her +jealousy. But now I despise it. Yes, with all her high reputation, and +_imposing_ qualities, I must think of her with contempt. And now that +I have given vent to my feelings, with that freedom in which I ever +indulge myself in writing to you, my amiable Gabrielle, chosen friend +of my heart, I will compose myself, and give you a rational account of +things. + +You know that I am said to have some taste. Leonora makes no pretensions +to any. Wishing, I suppose, that her fete should be as elegant as +possible, she consulted me about all the arrangements and decorations. +It was I that did every thing. My skill and taste were admired by the +whole company, and especially by Mr. L----. He was in remarkably good +spirits at the commencement of the evening; quite gay and gallant: +he certainly paid me a great deal of attention, and it was natural he +should; for besides being his guest, I was undoubtedly the most elegant +woman present. My fame had gone abroad; I found that I was the object of +general attention. To this I have been tolerably well accustomed all +my life; enough at least to prevent me from giving any visible sign +of being moved by admiration in whatever form it comes; whether in the +polite foreign glance, or the broad English stare. The starers enjoyed +their pleasure, and I mine: I moved and talked, I smiled or was pensive, +as though I saw them not; nevertheless the homage of their gaze was not +lost upon me. You know, my charming Gabrielle, one likes to observe +the _sensation_ one produces amongst new people. The incense that I +perceived in the surrounding atmosphere was just powerful enough +to affect my nerves agreeably: that languor which you have so +often reproached me for indulging in the company of what we call +_indifferents_ gradually dissipated; and, as poor R---- used to say of +me, I came from behind my cloud like the sun in all its glory. I +was such as you have seen me, Gabrielle, in my best days, in my best +moments, in my very best style. I wonder what would excite me to such +a waste of powers. L---- seemed inspired too: he really was quite +agreeable, and showed me off almost as well as R---- himself could have +done. I had no idea that he had this species of talent. You will never +know of what my countrymen are capable, for you are out of patience with +the statues the first half hour: now it takes an amazing time to animate +them; but they can be waked into life, and I have a pride in conquering +difficulties.--There were more men this night, in proportion to the +women, than one usually sees in English company, consequently it +was more agreeable. I was surrounded by an admiring audience, and my +conversation of course was sufficiently general to please all, and +sufficiently particular to distinguish the man whom I wished to animate. +In all this you will say there was nothing to put one out of humour, +nothing very mortifying:--but stay, my fair philosopher, do not judge +of the day till you see its end.--Leonora was so hid from my view by +the crowd of adorers, that I really did not discern her, or suspect her +jealousy. I was quite natural; I thought only of myself; I declined all +invitations to dance, declaring that it was so long since I had tried +an English country dance, that I dared not expose my awkwardness. French +country dances were mentioned, but I preferred conversation. At last +L---- persecuted me to try a Polish dance with him--a multitude +of voices overpowered me. I have not the talent which some of my +countrywomen possess in such perfection, of being obstinate about +trifles. When I can refuse with grace, 'tis well; but when that is no +longer possible, it is my principle, or my weakness, to yield. I was +surprised to find that L----danced admirably. I became animated. You +know how dancing animates me, when I have a partner who _can_ dance--a +thing not very common in this country. We ended by _waltzing_, first in +the Polish, and afterwards in the Parisian manner. I certainly surpassed +myself--I flew, I was borne upon the wings of the wind, I floated on the +notes of the music. Animated or languid in every gradation of grace and +sentiment, I abandoned myself to the inspiration of the moment; I was +all soul, and the spectators were all admiration. To you, my Gabrielle, +I may speak thus of myself without vanity: you know the sensation I was +accustomed to produce at Paris; you may guess then what the effect +must be here, where such a style of dancing has all the captivation of +novelty. Had I doubted that my _success_ was complete, I should have +been assured of it by the faces of some prudes amongst the matrons, who +affected to think that the waltz was _too much_. As L---- was leading, +or rather supporting me to my seat, for I was quite exhausted, I +overheard a gentleman, who was at no great distance from the place where +Leonora was standing, whisper to his neighbour, "Le Valse extreme est +la volupte permise." I fancy Leonora overheard these words, as well +as myself, for my eyes met hers at this instant, and she coloured, and +directly looked another way. L---- neither heard nor saw any thing of +all this: he was intent upon procuring me a seat; and an Englishman can +never see or think of two things at a time. A few minutes afterwards, +whilst he was fanning me, a young awkward peasant girl, quite a stranger +in this country, came up to me, and dropping her novice curtsy, said, +"Here's a ring, my lady, I found on the grass; they tell me it is yours, +my lady!" + +"No, my good girl, it is not mine," said I. + +"It is Lady Leonora's," said Mr. L----. + +At the sound of her name Leonora came forward. + +The girl looked alternately at us. + +"Can you doubt," cried Colonel A----, "which of these ladies is Mr. +L----'s wife?" + +"Oh, no, sir; this is she, _to be sure_," said the girl, pointing to me. + +What there was in the girl's accent, or in L----'s look, when she +pronounced the words, or in mine, or in all three together, I cannot +exactly describe; but Leonora felt it. She turned as pale as death. +I looked as unconscious as I could. L---- went on fanning me, without +seeing his wife's change of countenance. Leonora--would you believe +it?--sank upon a bench behind us, and fainted. How her husband started, +when he felt her catch by his arm as she fell! He threw down the +fan, left me, ran for water--"Oh, Lady Leonora! Lady Leonora is ill!" +exclaimed every voice. The consternation was wonderful. They carried her +ladyship to a spot where she could have free air. I was absolutely in +an instant left alone, and seemingly as much forgotten as if I had never +existed! I was indeed so much astonished, that I could not stir from the +place where I stood; till, recollecting myself, I pushed my way through +the crowd, and came in view of Leonora just as she opened her eyes. As +soon as she came to herself, she made an effort to stand, saying that +she was quite well again, but that she would go into the house and +repose herself for a few minutes. As she rose, a hundred arms were +offered at once to her assistance. She stepped forward; and, to my +surprise, and I believe to the surprise of every body else, took mine, +made a sign to her husband not to follow us, and walked quickly towards +the house. Her woman, with a face of terror, met us, as we were going +into Lady Leonora's apartment, with salts and hartshorn, and I know not +what in her hands. + +"I am quite well, quite well again; I do not want any thing; I do not +want any thing. I do not want you, Mason," said Leonora. "Lady Olivia is +so good as to assist me. I am come in only to rest for a few minutes." + +The woman gave me an evil look, and left the room. Never did I wish +any thing more than that she should have stayed. I was absolutely so +embarrassed, so distressed, when I found myself alone with Leonora, +that I knew not what to say. I believe I began with a sentence about +the night air, that was very little to the purpose. The sight of some +baby-linen which the maid had been making suggested to me something +which I thought more appropriate. + +"My dear creature!" said I, "why will you fatigue yourself. so terribly, +and stand so much and so long in your situation?" + +Leonora neither accepted nor rejected my interpretation of what had +passed. She made no reply; but fixed her eyes upon me as if she would +have read my very soul. Never did I see or feel eyes so expressive or +so powerful as hers were at this, moment. Mine absolutely fell beneath +them. What deprived me of presence of mind I know not; but I was utterly +without common sense. I am sure I changed colour, and Leonora must have +seen it through my rouge, for I had only the slightest tinge upon my +cheeks. The consciousness that she saw me blush disconcerted me beyond +recovery; it is really quite unaccountable: I trembled all over as I +stood before her; I was forced to have recourse to the hartshorn and +water, which stood upon the table. Leonora rose, and threw open the +window to give me fresh air. She pressed my hand, but rather with an +air of forgiveness than of affection; I was mortified and vexed; but my +pride revived me. + +"We had better return to the company as soon as possible, I believe," +said she, looking down at the moving crowd below. + +"I am ready to attend you, my dear," said I, coldly, "whenever you feel +yourself sufficiently rested and composed." + +She left the room, and I followed. You have no idea of the solicitude +with which the people hoped she was _better_--and _well_--and _quite +well_, &c. What amazing importance a fainting fit can sometimes bestow! +Her husband seemed no longer to have any eyes or soul but for her. +At supper, and during the rest of the night, she occupied the whole +attention of every body present. Can you conceive any thing so +provoking? But L---- must be an absolute fool!--Did he never see a woman +faint before?--He cannot pretend to be in love with his wife--I do not +understand it.--But this I know, that he has been totally different in +his manner towards me these three days past. + +And now that my curiosity is satisfied about Leonora's jealousy, I +shall absolutely perish with ennui in this stupid place. Adieu, dearest +Gabrielle! How I envy you! The void of my heart is insupportable. I must +have some passion to keep me alive. Forward any letters from poor R----, +if he has written under cover to you. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXVII. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO HER DAUGHTER. + + +Take courage, my beloved daughter; take courage. Have a just confidence +in yourself and in your husband. For a moment he may be fascinated by +the arts of an unprincipled woman; for a moment she may triumph over +his senses, and his imagination; but of his esteem, his affection, his +heart, she cannot rob you. These have been, ought to be, will be yours. +Trust to your mother's prophecy, my child. You may trust to it securely: +for, well as she loves you--and no mother ever loved a daughter +better--she does not soothe you with mere words of doting fondness; she +speaks to you the language of reason and of truth. + +I know what such a man as Mr. L---- must esteem and love; I know of what +such a woman as my daughter is capable, when her whole happiness, and +the happiness of all that is dear to her, are at stake. The loss of +temporary admiration and power, the transient preference shown to a +despicable rival, will not provoke you to imprudent reproach, nor sink +you to helpless despair. The arts of an Olivia might continue to +deceive your husband, if he were a fool; or to please him, if he were a +libertine: but he has a heart formed for love, he cannot therefore be a +libertine: he is a man of superior abilities, and knows women too +well to be a dupe. With a penetrating and discriminative judgment +of character, he is a nice observer of female manners; his taste +is delicate even to excess; under a cold exterior he has a vivid +imagination and strong sensibility; he has little vanity, but a +superabundance of pride; he wishes to be ardently loved, but this +he conceals; it is difficult to convince him that he is beloved, and +scarcely possible to satisfy him by any common proofs of attachment. A +coquette will never attach Mr. L----. The admiration which others might +express for her charms and accomplishments, would never pique him to +competition: far from seeking "to win her praise whom all admire," he +would disdain to enter the lists with the vulgar multitude: a heart, +in which he had a probability of holding only divided empire, would +not appear to him worth the winning. As a coquette, whatever may be +her talents, graces, accomplishments, and address, you have nothing +seriously to fear from Lady Olivia. + +But, my dear, Mr. L----'s mind may be in a situation to require +amusement. That species of apathy which succeeds to passion is not, +as the inexperienced imagine, the death of love, but the necessary and +salutary repose from which it awakens refreshed and revived. Mr. L----'s +passion for you has been not only tender, but violent, and the calm, +which inevitably succeeds, should not alarm you. + +When a man feels that his fondness for a wife is suspended, he is uneasy +in her company, not only from the sense of decreased pleasure, but from +the fear of her observation and detection. If she reproach him, affairs +become worse; he blames himself, he fears to give pain whenever he is in +her presence: if he attempt to conceal his feelings, and to appear what +he is no longer, a lover, his attempts are awkward; he becomes more and +more dissatisfied with himself; and the person who compels him to this +hypocrisy, who thus degrades him in his own eyes, must certainly be in +danger of becoming an object of aversion. A wife, who has sense enough +to abstain from all reproaches, direct or indirect, by word or look, may +reclaim her husband's affections: the bird escapes from his cage, but +returns to his nest. I am glad that you have agreeable company at your +house; they will amuse Mr. L----, and relieve you from the necessity of +taking a share in any conversation that you dislike. Our witty friend +----will supply your share of conversation; and as to your silence, +remember that witty people are always content with those who _act +audience_. + +I rejoice that you persist in your daily occupations. To a mind like +yours, the sense of performing your duty will, next to religion, be the +firmest support upon which you can rely. + +Perhaps, my dear, even when you read this, you will still be inclined to +justify Lady Olivia, and to conceal from your heart the suspicions +which her conduct excites. I am not surprised, that you should find it +difficult to believe, that one to whom you have behaved so generously, +should treat you with treachery, and ingratitude. I am not surprised, +that you who feel what it is to love, should think, that a woman whose +heart is occupied by attachment to one object, must be incapable of +thinking of any other. But love in such a heart as yours is totally +different from what it is in the fancy of these heroines. In their +imagination, the objects are as fleeting as the pictures in the clouds +chased by the wind. + +From Lady Olivia expect nothing: depend only on yourself. When you +become, as you soon must, completely convinced that the woman, in whom +your unsuspecting soul confided, is utterly unworthy of your esteem, +refrain from all imprudent expressions of indignation. I despise--you +will soon hate--your rival; but in the moment of detection think of what +is due to yourself, and act as calmly as if you had never loved her. +She will suffer no pain from the loss of your friendship: she has not a +heart that can value it. Probably she is envious of you. All these women +desire to mortify those whom they cannot degrade to their own level: +and I am inclined to suspect that this malevolent feeling, joined to +the want of occupation, may be the cause of her present conduct. Her +manoeuvres will not ultimately succeed. She will be deserted by Mr. +L----, disappointed and disgraced, and your husband will be more yours +than ever. When this happy moment comes, my Leonora; when your husband +returns, preferring yours to all other society, then will be the time +to exert all your talents, all your charms, to prove your superiority +in every thing, but most in love. The soothings of female tenderness, +in certain situations, have power not only to calm the feelings of +self-reproach, but to diffuse delight over the soul of man. The oil, +which the skilful mariner throws upon the sea, not only smooths the +waves in the storm, but when the sun shines, spreads the most beautiful +colours over the surface of the waters. + +My dear daughter, though your mother writes seemingly at her ease, you +must not fancy that she does not feel for you. Do not imagine, that in +the coldness of extinguished passions, and in the pride of counselling +age, your mother expects to charm agony with words. No, my child, I am +not so absurd, so cruel. Your letter forced tears from eyes, which are +not used like sentimental eyes to weep upon every trifling occasion. +My first wish was to set out immediately to see you; but whatever +consolation or pleasure my company might afford, I believe it might be +disadvantageous to you in your present circumstances. I could not be an +hour in the room with this Lady Olivia, without showing some portion of +the indignation and contempt that I feel for her conduct. This warmth of +mine might injure you in your husband's opinion. Though you would have +too strong a sense of propriety, and too much dignity of mind, to make +complaints of your husband to me, or to any one living; yet it might +be supposed that your mother was your confidante in secret, and your +partisan in public: this might destroy your domestic happiness. No +husband can or ought to endure the idea of his wife's caballing against +him. I admire and shall respect your dignified silence. + +And now fare you well, my dearest child. May God bless you! If a +mother's prayers could avail, you would be the happiest of human beings. +I do, without partiality, believe you to be one of the best and most +amiable of women. ---- + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXVIII. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +Had your letter, my dearest mother, reached me a few hours sooner, I +should not have exposed myself as I have done. + +Yesterday, at our _fete champetre_, you would have been ashamed of me. I +am ashamed of myself. I did the very reverse of what I ought, of what +I would have done, if I had been fortified by your counsel. Instead of +being calm and dignified, I was agitated beyond all power of control. I +lost all presence of mind, all common sense, all recollection. + +I know your contempt for swooning heroines. What will you say, when you +hear that your daughter fainted--fainted in public? I believe, however, +that, as soon as I recovered, I had sufficient command over myself to +prevent the accident from being attributed to the real cause, and I hope +that the very moment I came to my recollection, my manner towards Lady +Olivia was such as to preclude all possibility of her being blamed or +even suspected. From living much abroad, she has acquired a certain +freedom of manner, and latitude of thinking, which expose her to +suspicion; but of all serious intention to injure me, or to pass the +bounds of propriety, I totally acquit her. She is not to blame for the +admiration she excites, nor is she to be the sufferer for my weakness of +mind or of health. + +Great and unreasonable folly I am sure I showed--but I shall do so no +more. + +The particular circumstances I need not explain: you may be assured, +that wherever I think it right to be silent, nothing shall tempt me +to speak: but I understood, by the conclusion of your letter, that you +expect me to preserve an absolute silence upon this subject in future: +this I will not promise. I cannot conceive that I, who do not mean to +injure any human being, ought, because I am unhappy, and when I am most +in want of a friend, to be precluded from the indulgence of speaking +of what is nearest my heart to that dear, safe, most enlightened, and +honourable of friends, who has loved, guided, instructed, and encouraged +me in every thing that is right from my infancy. Why should I be refused +all claim to sympathy? why must my thoughts and feelings be shut up +in my own breast? and why must I be a solitary being, proscribed from +commerce with my own family, with my beloved mother, to whom I have been +accustomed to tell every feeling and idea as they arose? No; to all +that is honourable I will strictly conform; but, by the superstition of +prudence, I do not hold myself bound. + +Nothing could be kinder than my husband's conduct to me the evening +after I was taken ill. He left home early this morning; he is gone to +meet his friend, General B----, who has just returned from abroad. I +hope that Mr. L---- will be absent only a few days; for it would be +fatal to my happiness if he should find amusement at a distance from +home. His home, at all events, shall never be made a cage to him; when +he returns, I will exert myself to the utmost to make it agreeable. This +I hope can be done without obtruding my company upon him, or putting +myself in competition with any person. I could wish that some fortunate +accident might induce Lady Olivia to leave us before Mr. L----'s return. +Had I the same high opinion of her generosity that I once formed, had I +the same perfect confidence in her integrity and in her friendship for +me, I would go this moment and tell her all that passes in my heart: no +humiliation of my vanity would cost me any thing if it could serve the +interests of my love; no mean pride could stand in my mind against the +force of affection. But there is a species of pride which I cannot, will +not renounce--believing, as I do, that it is the companion, the friend, +the support of virtue. This pride, I trust, will never desert me: it has +grown with my growth; it was implanted in my character by the education +which my dear mother gave me; and now, even by her, it cannot be +eradicated. Surely I have misunderstood one passage in your letter: you +cannot advise your daughter to restrain just indignation against vice +from any motive of policy or personal interest. You say to me, "In the +moment of detection think of what is due to yourself, and act as calmly +as if you had never loved her." If I _could_, I would not do this. +Contempt shown by virtue is the just punishment of vice, a punishment +which no selfish consideration should mitigate. If I were convinced +that Lady Olivia were guilty, would you have me behave to her as if I +believed her to be innocent? My countenance, my voice, my principles, +would revolt from such mean and pernicious hypocrisy, degrading to the +individual, and destructive to society. + +May I never more see the smile of love on the lips of my husband, nor +its expression in his eyes, if I do so degrade myself in my own opinion +and in his! Yes, in his; for would not he, would not any man of sense or +delicacy, recur to that idea so common with his sex, and so just, that +if a woman will sacrifice her sense of honour to her passions in one +instance, she may in another? Would he not argue, "If she will do this +for me because she is in love with me, why not for a new favourite, if +time or accident should make me less an object of passion?" No; I may +lose his love--this would be my misfortune: but to forfeit his esteem +would be my fault; and, under the remorse which I should then have to +endure, I am persuaded that no power of art or nature could sustain my +existence. + +So much for myself. As to the general good of society, that, I confess, +is not at this moment the uppermost consideration in my mind; but I +will add a few words on that subject, lest you should imagine me to be +hurried away by my own feelings. Public justice and reason are, I +think, on my side. What would become of the good order of society or the +decency of families, if every politic wife were to receive or invite, or +permit her husband's mistress to reside in her house? What would become +of conjugal virtue in either sex, if the wife were in this manner not +only to connive at the infidelity of her husband, but to encourage and +provide for his inconsistency? If she enters into bonds of amity and +articles of partnership with her rival, with that person by whom she has +been most injured, instead of being the dignified sufferer, she becomes +an object of contempt. + +My dearest mother, my most respected friend, my sentiments on this +subject cannot essentially differ from yours. I must have mistaken your +meaning. Pray write quickly, and tell me so; and forgive, if you cannot +approve of, the warmth with which I have spoken. + +I am your truly affectionate + +And grateful daughter, + +LEONORA L---- + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXIX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME P----. + + +My amiable Gabrielle, I must be faithful to my promise of writing to you +every week, though this place affords nothing new either in events or +sentiment. Mr. L----'s absence made this castle insupportably dull. +A few days ago he returned home, and met me with an easy kind of +indifference, provoking enough to a woman who has been accustomed to +excite some sensation. However, I was rejoiced at this upon Leonora's +account. She was evidently delighted, and her spirits and affections +seemed to overflow involuntarily upon all around her; even to me her +manner became quite frank and cordial, almost caressing. She is really +handsome when she is animated, and her conversation this evening quite +surprised me. I saw something of that playfulness, those light touches, +that versatility of expression, those words that mean more than meet +the ear; every thing, in short, that could charm in the most polished +foreign society. Leonora seemed to be inspired with all the art of +conversation, by the simple instinct of affection. What astonished me +most was the grace with which she introduced some profound philosophical +remarks. "Such pearls," said Mr. L----, "come from the deep." + +With all these talents, what might not Leonora be in proper hands! But +now she is nothing except to her husband, and a few intimate friends. +However, this is not my affair. Let me go on to what concerns myself. +You may believe, my dear Gabrielle, that I piqued myself upon showing at +least as much easy indifference as was shown to me: freedom encourages +freedom. As there was no danger of my being too amiable, I did not think +myself bound in honour or sentiment to keep myself in the shade; but +I could not be as brilliant as you have seen me at your _soirees_: the +magic circle of adorers, the inspiring power of numbers, the eclat of +public _representation_, were wanting. I retired to my own apartment at +night, quite out of humour with myself; and Josephine, as she undressed +me, put me still further out of patience, by an ill-timed history of +a dispute she has had with Leonora's Swiss servant. The Swiss and +Josephine, it seems, came to high words in defence of their mistresses' +charms. Josephine provoked the Swiss by saying, that his lady might +possibly be handsome if she were dressed in the French taste; _mais +qu'elle etoit bien Angloise_, and would be quite another thing if she +had been at Paris. The Swiss retorted by observing, that Josephine's +lady had indeed learnt in perfection at Paris _the art of making herself +up_, which was quite necessary to a beauty _un peu passee_. The words +were not more agreeable to me than they had been to Josephine. I wonder +at her assurance in repeating them--"Un peu passee!" Many a woman in +England, ten, fifteen years older than I am, has inspired a violent +passion; and it has been observed, that power is retained by these +mature charmers, longer than conquest can be preserved by inexperienced +beauties. There are women who have learnt to combine, for their +own advantage, and for that of their captives, all the pleasure and +_conveniences_ of society, all that a thorough knowledge of the world +can give--women who have a sufficient attention to appearances, +joined to a real contempt of all prejudices, especially that of +constancy--women who possess that knowledge of the human heart, which +well compensates transient bloom; who add the expression of sentiment to +beautiful features, and who employ + + "Gay smiles to comfort, April showers to move, + And all the nature, all the art of Love." +--"Un peu passee!" The Swiss is impertinent, and knows nothing of +the matter. His master knows but little more. He would, however, know +infinitely more if I could take the trouble to instruct him; to which +I am almost tempted for want of something better to do. Adieu, my +Gabrielle. R----'s silence is perfectly incomprehensible. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +So, my amiable Gabrielle, you are really interested in my letters, +_though written during my English exile_, and you are curious to know +whether any of my _potent spells_ can wake into life this man of marble. +I candidly confess you would inspire me with an ambition to raise my +poor countrymen in your opinion, if I were not restrained by the sacred +sentiment of friendship, which forbids me to rival Leonora _even_ in a +husband's opinion. + +However, Josephine, who feels herself a party concerned ever since +her battle with the Swiss, has piqued herself upon dressing me +with exquisite taste. I am every day _mise a ravir_!--and with such +perfection of art, that no art appears--all is negligent simplicity. +I let Josephine please herself; for you know I am not bound to be +frightful, because I have a friend whose husband may chance to turn his +eye upon my figure, when he is tired of admiring hers. I rallied L---- +the other day upon his having no eyes or ears but for his wife. Be +assured I did it in such a manner that he could not be angry. Then I +went on to a comparison between the _facility_ of French and English +society. He admitted that there was some truth and more wit in my +observations. I was satisfied. With these reasonable men, the grand +point for a woman is to amuse them--they can have logic from their own +sex. But, my Gabrielle, I am summoned to the _salon_, and must finish my +letter another day. + + * * * * * + +Heaven! can it be a fortnight since I wrote a line to my +Gabrielle!--Where was I?--"With these reasonable men the grand point +for a woman is to amuse them." True--most true! L----, believing +himself only amused with my lively nonsense, indulged himself with it +continually. I was to believe only what he believed. Presently he could +not do without my conversation for more than two hours together. What +was I to do, my Gabrielle? I walked out to avoid him. He found me in the +woods--rallied me on my taste for solitude, and quoted Voltaire. + +This led to a metaphysical conversation, half playful, half +serious:--the distinction which a man sometimes makes to his conscience +between thinking a woman entertaining, and feeling her interesting, +vanishes more easily, and more rapidly, than he is aware of--at least +in certain situations. This was not an observation I could make to my +companion in the woods, and he certainly did not make it for himself. It +would have been vanity in me to have broken off our conversation, lest +he should fall in love with me--it would have been blindness not to have +seen that he was in some danger. I thought of Leonora--and sighed--and +did all that was in my power to put him upon his guard. By way of +preservative, I frankly made him a confession of my attachment to R----. +This I imagined would put things upon a right footing for ever; but, +on the contrary, by convincing him of my innocence, and of my having +no designs on his heart, this candour has, I fear, endangered him still +more; yet I know not what to think--his manner is so variable towards +me--I must be convinced of what his sentiments are, before I can decide +what my conduct ought to be. Adieu, my amiable Gabrielle; I wait for +something decisive with an inexpressible degree of anxiety--I will not +now call it curiosity.--Apropos, does R---- wish that I should forget +that he exists? What is this business that detains him? But why do I +condescend to inquire? + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXI. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +MY DEAR L----, London. + +I send you the horse to which you took a fancy. He has killed one of his +grooms, and lamed two; but you will be his master, and I hope he will +know it. + +I have a word to say to you on a more serious subject. Pardon me if I +tell you that I think you are a happy man, and excuse me if I add, that +if you do not keep yourself so I shall not think you a wise one. A +good wife is better than a good-for-nothing mistress.--A self-evident +proposition!--A stupid truism! Yes; but if every man who knows a +self-evident proposition when he sees it on paper, always acted as if he +knew it, this would be a very wise and a very happy world; and I should +not have occasion to write this letter. + +You say that you are only amusing yourself at the expense of a finished +coquette; take care that she does not presently divert herself +at yours.--"_You are proof against French coquetry and German +sentiment_."--Granted--but a fine woman?--and your own vanity?--But you +have no vanity.--You call it pride then, I suppose. I will not quarrel +with you for a name. Pride, properly managed, will do your business as +well as vanity. And no doubt Lady Olivia knows this as well as I do. I +hope you may never know it better. + +I am, my dear friend, + +Truly yours, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +Advise me, dearest Gabrielle; I am in a delicate situation; and on your +judgment and purity of heart I have the most perfect reliance. Know, +then, that I begin to believe that Leonora's jealousy was not so +absolutely absurd as I at first supposed. She understood her husband +better than I did. I begin to fear that I have made a serious impression +whilst I meant only to amuse myself. Heaven is my witness, I simply +intended to satisfy my curiosity, and that once gratified, it was my +determination to respect the weakness I discovered. To love Leonora, as +once I imagined I could, is out of my power; but to disturb her peace, +to destroy her happiness, to make use of the confidence she has +reposed in me, the kindness she has shown by making me an inmate of her +house--my soul shudders at these ideas. No--if her husband really +loves me I will fly. Leonora shall see that Olivia is incapable of +treachery--that Olivia has a soul generous and delicate as her own, +though free from the prejudices by which she is fettered. To Leonora +a husband is a lover--I shall consider him as such, and respect her +_property_. You are so little used, my dear Gabrielle, to consider a +husband in this point of view, that you will scarcely enter into my +feelings: but put yourself in my situation, allow for nationality of +principle, and I am persuaded you would act as I shall. Spare me your +raillery; seriously, if Leonora's husband is in love with me, would you +not advise me, my dearest friend, to fly him, "far as pole from pole?" +Write to me, I conjure you, my Gabrielle--write instantly, and tell me +whether R----is now at Paris. I will return thither immediately if you +advise it. My mind is in such confusion, I have no power to decide; I +will be guided by your advice. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXIII. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +Advice! my charming Olivia! do you ask me for advice? I never gave +or took advice in my life, except for _les vapeurs noirs_. And your +understanding is so far superior to mine, and you comprehend the +characters of these English so much better than I do, that I cannot +pretend to counsel you. This Lady Leonora is inconceivable with her +passion for her own husband; but how ridiculous to let it be suspected! +If her heart is so tender, cannot she, with all her charms, find a lover +on whom to bestow it, without tormenting that poor Mr. L----? Evidently +he is tired of her: and I am sure I should be worn to death were I in +his place. Nothing so tiresome as love without mystery, and without +obstacles. And this must ever be the case with conjugal love. Eighteen +months married, I think you say, and Lady Leonora expects her husband +to be still at her feet! And she wishes it! Truly she is the most +unreasonable woman upon earth--and the most extraordinary; but I am +tired of thinking of what I cannot comprehend. + +Let us pass on to Mr. L----. By your last letters, I should judge that +he might be an agreeable man, if his wife were out of the question. +Matrimonial jealousy is a new idea to me; I can judge of it only by +analogy. In affairs of gallantry, I have sometimes seen one of the +parties continue to love when the other has become indifferent, and then +they go on tormenting one another and being miserable, because they have +not the sense to see that a fire cannot be made of ashes. Sometimes I +have found romantic young people persuade themselves that they can love +no more because they can love one another no longer; but if they had +sufficient courage to say--I am tired--and I cannot help it--they would +come to a right understanding immediately, and part on the best terms +possible; each eager to make a new choice, and to be again in love and +happy. All this to be done with decency, of course. And if there be no +scandal, where is the harm? Can it signify to the universe whether Mons. +Un tel likes Madame Une telle or Madame Une autre? Provided there is +love enough, all the world is in good humour, and that is the essential +point; for without good humour, what becomes of the pleasures of +society? As to the rest, I think of inconstancy, or _infidelity_, as it +is called, much as our good La Fontaine did--"Quand on le sait, c'est +peu de chose--quand on ne le sait pas, ce n'est rien." + +To promise to love one person eternally! What a terrible engagement! +It freezes my heart even to think of it. I am persuaded, that if I were +bound to love him for life, I should detest the most amiable man upon +earth in ten minutes--a husband more especially. Good heavens! how I +should abhor M. de P---- if I saw him in this point of view! On the +contrary, now I love him infinitely--that is to say, as one loves a +husband. I have his interest at heart, and his glory. When I thought +he was going to prison I was in despair. I was at home to no one but +_Brave-et-Tendre_, and to him only to consult on the means of obtaining +my husband's pardon. M. de P----is sensible of this, and on my part I +have no reason to complain of his liberality. We are perfectly happy, +though we meet perhaps but for a few minutes in the day; and is not this +better than tiring one another for four-and-twenty hours? When I grow +old--if ever I do--he will be my best friend. In the mean time I support +his credit with all my influence. This very morning I concluded an +affair for him, which never could have succeeded, if the intimate friend +of the minister had not been also my lover. Now, why cannot your Lady +Leonora and her Mr. L---- live on the same sort of terms? But if English +manners will not permit of this, I have nothing more to say. Above all +things a woman must respect opinion, else she cannot be well received in +the world. I conclude this is the secret of Lady Leonora's conduct. But +then jealousy!--no woman, I suppose, is bound, even in England, to be +jealous in order to show her love for her husband. I lose myself again +in trying to understand what is incomprehensible. + +As to you, my dear Olivia, you also amaze me by talking of _crimes_ and +_horror_, and _flying from pole to pole_ to avoid a man because you have +made him at last find out that he has a heart! You have done him the +greatest possible service: it may preserve him perhaps from hanging +himself next November--that month in which, according to Voltaire's +philosophical calendar, Englishmen always hang themselves, because the +atmosphere is so thick, and their ennui so heavy. Lady Leonora, if she +really loves her husband, ought to be infinitely obliged to you for +averting this danger. As to the rest, your heart is not concerned, so +you can have nothing to fear; and as for a platonic attachment on the +part of Mr. L----, his wife, even according to her own rigid principles, +cannot blame you. + +Adieu, my charming friend! Instead of laughing at your fit of prudery, +I ought to encourage your scruples, that I might profit by them. If they +should bring you to Paris immediately, with what joy should I embrace +my Olivia, and how much gratitude should I owe to the jealousy of Lady +Leonora L----! + +R---- is not yet returned. When I have any news to give you of him, +depend upon it you shall hear from me again. Accept, my interesting +Olivia, the vows of my most tender and eternal friendship. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXIV. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle, Tuesday. + +Your charming letter, my Gabrielle, has at once revived my spirits and +dissipated all my scruples; you mistake, however, in supposing that +Leonora is in love with her husband: more and more reason have I every +hour to be convinced that Leonora has never known the passion of love; +consequently her jealousy was, as I at first pronounced it to be, the +selfish jealousy of matrimonial power and property. Else why does it +subside, why does it vanish, when, if it were a jealousy of the heart, +it has now more provocation, infinitely more than when it appeared in +full force? Leonora could see that her husband distinguished me at a +_fete champetre_; she could see what the eyes of others showed her; +she could hear what envy whispered, or what scandal hinted; she was +mortified, she was alarmed even to fainting by a public preference, by a +silly country girl's mistaking me for _the wife_, and doing homage to me +as to the lady of the manor; but Leonora cannot perceive in the object +of her affection the symptoms that mark the rise and progress of _a real +love_. Leonora feels not the little strokes, which would be fatal blows +to the peace of a truly delicate mind; she heeds not "the trifles +light as air" which would be confirmation strong to a soul of genuine +sensibility. My influence over the mind of L----increases rapidly, and +I shall let it rise to its acme before I seem to notice it. Leonora, +re-assured, I suppose, by a few flattering words, and more, perhaps, by +an exalted opinion of her own merit, has lately appeared quite at her +ease, and blind to all that passes before her eyes. It is not for me +to dissipate this illusion prematurely--it is not for me to weaken this +confidence in her husband. To an English wife this would be death. Let +her foolish security then last as long as possible. After all, how much +anguish of heart, how many pangs of conscience, how much of the torture +of pity, am I spared by this callous temper in my friend! I may indulge +in a little harmless coquetry, without danger to her peace, and without +scruple, enjoy the dear possession of power. + + * * * * * + +"Say, for you know," charming Gabrielle, what is the delight of +obtaining power over the human heart? Let the lords of the creation +boast of their power to govern all things; to charm these governors be +ours. Let the logicians of the earth boast their power to regulate the +world by reason; be it ours, Gabrielle, to intoxicate and humble proud +reason to the dust beneath our feet.--And who shall blame in us this +ardour for universal dominion? If they are men, I call them tyrants--if +they are women, I call them hypocrites--and the two vices which I most +detest are tyranny and hypocrisy. Frankly I confess, that I feel in +all its restless activity the passion for general admiration. I cannot +conceive--can you, Gabrielle, a pleasure more transporting than the +perception of extended and extending dominion? The struggle of the +rebel heart for freedom makes the war more tempting, the victory more +glorious, the triumph more splendid. Secure of your sympathy, ma belle +Gabrielle, I shall not fear to tire you by my commentaries. + + * * * * * + +Male coquetry justifies female retaliation to any imaginable extent. +Upon this principle, on which I have seen you act so often, and so +successfully, I shall now intrepidly proceed. This man makes a show of +resistance; be it at his own peril: he thinks that he is gaining power +over my heart, whilst I am preparing torments for his; he fancies that +he is throwing chains round me, whilst I am rivetting fetters from which +he will in vain attempt to escape. He is proud, and has the insanity of +desiring to be exclusively beloved, yet affects to set no value upon +the preference that is shown to him; appears satisfied with his own +approbation, and stoically all-sufficient to his own happiness. Leonora +does not know how to manage his temper, but I do. The suspense, however, +in which he keeps me is tantalizing: he shall pay for it hereafter: I +had no idea, till lately, that he had so much self-command. At times he +has actually made me doubt my own power. At certain moments I have been +half tempted to believe that I had made no serious impression, that +he had been only amusing himself at my expense, and for Leonora's +gratification: but upon careful and cool observation I am convinced that +his indifference is affected, that all his stoicism will prove vain. The +arrow is lodged in his heart, and he must fall, whether he turn upon the +enemy in anger, or fly in dismay. + + * * * * * + +My pride is exasperated. I am not accustomed to such obstinate +resistance. I really almost hate this invincible man, and--strange +inconsistency of the human heart!--almost love him. Heaven and pride +preserve me from such a weakness! But there is certainly something that +piques and stimulates one's feelings in this species of male coquetry. +L---- understands the business better than I thought he could. One +moment my knowledge of the arts of his sex puts me on my guard; the next +my sensibility exposes me in the most terrible manner. Experience +ought to protect me, but it only shows me the peril and my inability +to escape. Ah! Gabrielle, without a heart how safe we should be, how +dangerous to our lovers! But cursed with sensibility, we must, alas! +submit to our fate. The habit of loving, _le besoin d'aimer_, is more +powerful than all sense of the folly and the danger. Nor is the tempest +of the passions so dreadful as the dead calm of the soul. Why did R---- +suffer my soul to sink into this ominous calm? The fault is his; let him +abide the consequences. Why did he not follow me to England? why did he +not write to me? or when he did write, why were his letters so cold, +so spiritless? When I spoke of divorce, why did he hesitate? Why did he +reason when he should have only felt? Tell him, my tender, my delicate +friend, these are questions which the heart asks, and which the heart +only can answer. Adieu. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXV. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +Je suis excedee! mon coeur. Alive, and but just alive, after such a day +of fatigues! All morning from one minister to another! then home to my +toilette! then a great dinner with a number of foreigners, each to be +distinguished--then au Feydeau, where I was obliged to go to support +poor S----'s play. It would be really insupportable, if it were not +for the finest music in the world, which, after all, the French music +certainly is. There was a violent party against the piece; and we were +so late, that it was just on the point of perishing. My ears have +not yet recovered from the horrid noise. In the midst of the tumult I +happily, by a master-stroke, turned the fortune of the night. I spied +the shawl of an English woman hanging over the box. This, you know, like +scarlet to the bull, is sufficient to enrage the Parisian pit. To the +shawl I directed the fury of the mob of critics. Luckily for us, the +lady was attended only by an Englishman, who of course chose to assert +his right not to understand the customs of any country, or submit to any +will but his own. He would not permit the shawl to be stirred. A bas! a +bas: resounded from below. The uproar was inconceivable. You would have +thought that the house must have come down. In the mean time the piece +went on, and the shawl covered all its defects. Admire my generalship. +T---- tells me I was born for a general; yet I rather think my forte is +negotiation. + +But I have not yet come to your affairs, for which alone I could undergo +the fatigue of writing at this moment. Guess, my Olivia, what apparition +I met at the door of my box to-night. But the enclosed note will save +you the trouble of guessing. I could not avoid permitting him to slide +his billet-doux into my hand as he put on my shawl. Adieu. I must refuse +myself the pleasure of conversing longer with my sweet friend. Fresh +toils await me. Madame la Grande will never forgive me if I do not +appear for a moment at her soiree: and la petite Q---- will be jealous +beyond recovery, if I do not give her a moment: and it is Madame R----'s +night. There I must be; for all the ambassadors, as usual, will be +there; and as some of them, I have reason to believe, go on purpose to +meet me, I cannot disappoint their Excellencies. My friends would never +forgive it. I am positively quite weary of this life of eternal bustle; +but once in the eddy, one is carried round and round; there is no +stopping. Adieu, adieu. I write under the hands of Victoire. O that she +had your taste to guide her, and to decide my too vacillating judgment! +we should then have no occasion to dread even the elegant simplicity of +Madame R----'s toilette. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXVI. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE F----. + + +My Gabrielle, I have read R----'s note enclosed in your charming +sprightly letter. What a contrast! So cold! so formal! A thousand times +rather would I not have heard from him, than have received a letter so +little in unison with my feelings. He talks to me of business. Business! +What business ought to detain a man a moment from the woman he loves? +The interests of his ambition are nothing to me. What are all these to +love? Is he so mean as to hesitate between them? then I despise him! and +Olivia can never love the being she despises! + +Does R---- flatter himself that his power over my heart is omnipotent? +Does he imagine that Olivia is to be slighted with impunity? Does R---- +think that a woman, who has even nominally the honour to reign over his +heart, cannot meditate new conquests? Oh, credulous vanity of man! +He fancies, perhaps, that he is secure of the maturer age of one, who +fondly devoted to him her inexperienced youth. "Security is the curse of +fools." Does he in his wisdom deem a woman's age a sufficient pledge for +her constancy? He might every day see examples enough to convince him of +his error. In fact, the age of women has nothing to do with the number +of their years. Possibly, however, the gallant gentleman may be of +opinion with Leonora's Swiss, that Lady Olivia is _un peu passee_. +Adieu, my dear friend; you, who always understand and sympathize in my +feelings, you will express them for me in the best manner possible. I +shall not write to R----. You will see him; and Olivia commits to +you what to a woman of delicacy is more dear than her love--her just +resentment. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXVII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +Pity me, dearest Gabrielle, for I am in need of all the pity which +your susceptible heart can bestow. Never was woman in such a terrible +situation! Yes, Gabrielle, this provoking, this incomprehensible, this +too amiable man, has entangled your poor friend past recovery. Her +sentiments and sensations must henceforward be in eternal opposition +to each other. Friendship, gratitude, honour, virtue, all in tremendous +array, forbid her to think of love; but love, imperious love, will not +be so defied: he seizes upon his victim, and now, as in all the past, +will be the ruler, the tyrant of Olivia's destiny. Never was confusion, +amazement, terror, remorse, equal to mine, Gabrielle, when I first +discovered that I loved him. Who could have foreseen, who could have +imagined it? I meant but to satisfy an innocent curiosity, to indulge +harmless coquetry, to gratify the natural love of admiration, and to +enjoy the possession of power. Alas! I felt not that, whilst I was +acquiring ascendancy over the heart of another, I was beguiled of all +command over my own. I flattered myself that, when honour should bid +me stop, I could pause without hesitation, without effort: I promised +myself, that the moment I should discover that I was loved by the +husband of my friend I should fly from him for ever. Alas! it is no +longer time--to fly from him is no longer in my power. Oh. Gabrielle! I +love him: he knows that I love him. Never did woman suffer more than I +have done since I wrote to you last. The conflict was too violent for +my feeble frame. I have been ill--very ill: a nervous fever brought me +nearly to the grave. Why did I not die? I should have escaped the deep +humiliation, the endless self-reproach to which my future existence is +doomed.--Leonora!--Why do I start at that name? Oh! there is horror in +the sound! Even now perhaps she knows and triumphs in my weakness. Even +now, perhaps, her calm insensible soul blesses itself for not being made +like mine. Even now perhaps her husband doubts whether he shall accept +Olivia's love, or sacrifice your wretched friend to Leonora's pride. Oh, +Gabrielle, no words can describe what I suffer! But I must be calm, and +explain the progress of this fatal passion. Explain--Heavens! how shall +I explain what I cannot recollect without heart-rending anguish and +confusion! Oh, Gabrielle! pity + +Your distracted + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXVIII. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Monday. + +My dear romantic Olivia! you must have a furious passion for tormenting +yourself, when you can find matter for despair in your present +situation. In your place I should rejoice to find that in the moment an +old passion had consumed itself, a new one, fresh and vigorous, springs +from its ashes. My charming friend, understand your own interests, and +do not be the dupe of those fine phrases that we are obliged to employ +to deceive others. Rail at Cupid as much as you please to the men in +public, _par facon_; but always remember for your private use, that +love is essential to our existence in society. What is a woman when +she neither loves nor is loved? a mere _personage muet_ in the drama of +life. Is it not from our lovers that we derive our consequence? Even +a beauty without lovers is but a queen without subjects. A woman who +renounces love is an abdicated sovereign, always longing to resume her +empire when it is too late; continually forgetting herself, like the +pseudo-philosophic Christina, talking and acting as though she had still +the power of life and death in her hands; a tyrant without guards or +slaves; a most awkward, pitiable, and ridiculous personage. No, my fair +Olivia, let us never abjure love; even when the reign of beauty passes +away, that of grace and sentiment remains. As much delicacy as you +please: without delicacy there is no grace, and without a veil, beauty +loses her most captivating charms. I pity you, my dear, for having let +your veil be blown aside _malheureusement_. But such accidents will +happen. Who can control the passions or the winds? After all, _l'erreur +d'un moment_ is not irretrievable, and you reproach yourself too +bitterly, my sweet friend, for your involuntary injustice to Lady +Leonora. Assuredly it could not be your intention to sacrifice your +repose to Mr. L----. You loved him against your will, did you not? And +it is, you know, by the intention that we must judge of actions: the +positive harm done to the world in general is in all cases the only just +measure of criminality. Now what harm is done to the universe, and what +injury can accrue to any individual, provided you keep your own counsel? +As long as your friend is deceived, she is happy; it therefore becomes +your duty, your virtue, to dissemble. I am no great casuist, but all +this appears to me self-evident; and these I always thought were your +principles of philosophy. My dear Olivia, I have drawn out my whole +store of metaphysics with some difficulty for your service; I flatter +myself I have set your poor distracted head to rights. One word +more--for I like to go to the bottom of a subject, when I can do so +in two minutes: virtue is desirable because it makes us happy; +consequently, to make ourselves happy is to be truly virtuous. Methinks +this is sound logic. + +To tell you the truth, my dear Olivia, I do not well conceive how you +have contrived to fall in love with this half-frozen Englishman. 'Tis +done, however--there is no arguing against facts; and this is only one +proof more of what I have always maintained, that destiny is inevitable +and love irresistible. Voltaire's charming inscription on the statue of +Cupid is worth all the volumes of reasoning and morality that ever were +or ever will be written. Banish melancholy thoughts, my dear friend; +they serve no manner of purpose but to increase your passion. Repentance +softens the heart; and every body knows, that what softens the heart +disposes it more to love: for which reason I never abandon myself to +this dangerous luxury of repentance. Mon Dieu! why will people never +benefit by experience? And to what purpose do they read history? Was not +La Valliere ever penitent, and ever transgressing? ever in transports or +in tears? You, at all events, my Olivia, can never become a Carmelite or +a Magdalen. You have emancipated yourself from superstition: but whilst +you ridicule all religious orders, do not inflict upon yourself their +penances. The habit of some of the orders has been thought becoming. The +modest costume of a nun is indeed one of the prettiest dresses one can +wear at a masquerade ball, and it might even be worn without a mask, +if it were fashionable: but nothing that is not fashionable can be +becoming. + +Adieu, my adorable Olivia: I will send you, by the first opportunity, +your Lyons gown, which is really charming. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XXXIX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +Nov. 30th, -- + +Your truly philosophical letter, my infinitely various Gabrielle, +infused a portion of its charming spirit into my soul. My mind was +fortified and elevated by your eloquence. Who could think that a woman +of such a lively genius could be so profound? and who could expect from +a woman who has passed her life in the world, such original and deep +reflections? You see you were mistaken when you thought that you had no +genius for philosophic subjects. + +After all that has been said by metaphysicians about the existence and +seat of the moral sense, I think I can solve every difficulty by a +new theory. You know some philosophers suppose the moral sense to be +intuitive and inherent in man: others who deny the doctrine of innate +ideas, treat this notion of innate sentiments as equally absurd. There +they certainly are wrong, for sentiments are widely different from +ideas, and I have that within me which convinces my understanding that +sentiments must be innate, and proportioned to the delicacy of our +sensibility; no person of common sense or feeling can doubt this. But +there are other points which I own puzzled me till yesterday: some +metaphysicians would seat the moral sense inherently in the heart, +others would place it intuitively in the brain, all would confine it to +the soul; now in my opinion it resides primarily and principally in the +nerves, and varies with their variations. Hence the difficulty of making +the moral sense a universal guide of action, since it not only differs +in many individuals, but in the same persons at different periods of +their existence, or (as I have often experienced) at different hours of +the day. All this must depend upon the mobility of the nervous system: +upon this may _hinge_ the great difficulties which have puzzled +metaphysicians respecting consciousness, identity, &c. If they had +attended less to the nature of the soul, and more to the system of the +nerves, they would have avoided innumerable errors, and probably would +have made incalculably important discoveries. Nothing is wanting but +some great German genius to bring this idea of a moral sense in the +nerves into fashion. Indeed, if our friend Mad. ---- would mention it +in the notes to her new novel, it would introduce it, in the most +satisfactory manner possible, to all the fashionable world abroad; and +we take our notions in this country implicitly from the continent. As +for you, my dear Gabrielle, I know you cut the Gordian knot at once, by +referring, with your favourite moralist, every principle of human +nature to self-love. This does not quite accord with my ideas; there is +something harsh in it that is repugnant to my sensibility; but you have +a stronger mind than I have, and perhaps your theory is right. + +"You tell me I contradict myself continually," says the acute and witty +Duke de la Rochefoucault: "No, but the human heart, of which I treat, is +in perpetual contradiction to itself." Permit me to avail myself of this +answer, dear Gabrielle, if you should accuse me of contradicting in +this letter all that I said to you in my last. A few hours after I had +despatched it, the state of my nerves changed; I saw things of course +in a new light, and repented having exposed myself to your raillery by +writing in such a Magdalen strain. My nerves were more in fault than I. +When one's mind, or one's nerves grow weak, the early associations and +old prejudices of the nursery recur, and tyrannize over one's reason: +from this evil your liberal education and enviable temperament have +preserved you; but have charity for my feminine weakness of frame, which +too often counteracts the masculine strength of my soul. Now that I have +deprecated your ridicule for my last nervous nonsense, I will go on in a +more rational manner. However my better judgment might have been clouded +for a moment, I have recovered strength of mind enough to see that I am +in no way to blame for any thing that has happened. If a man is amiable, +and if I have taste and sensibility, I must see and feel it. "To love," +as I remember your friend G---- once finely observed to you, "to love, +is a crime only in the eyes of demons, or of priests, who resemble +demons." This is a general proposition, to which none but the prejudiced +can refuse their assent: and what is true in general, must be true +in particular. The _accident_, I use the term philosophically, not +popularly, the accident of a man's being married, or, in other words, +having entered imprudently into a barbarous and absurd civil contract, +cannot alter the nature of things. The essence of truth cannot be +affected by the variation of external circumstances. Now the proper +application of metaphysics frees the mind from vulgar prejudices, and +dissipates the baby terrors of an ill-educated conscience. To fall in +love with a married man, and the husband of your intimate friend! How +dreadful this sounds to some ears! even mine were startled at first, +till I called reason to my assistance. Then I had another difficulty to +combat--to own, and own unasked, a passion to the object of it, would +shock the false delicacy of those who are governed by common forms, and +who are slaves to vulgar prejudices: but a little philosophy liberates +our sex from the tyranny of custom, teaches us to disdain hypocrisy, and +to glory in the simplicity of truth. + +Josephine had been perfuming my hair, and I was sitting reading at my +toilette; the door of my dressing-room happened to be half open; L---- +was crossing the gallery, and as he passed I suppose his eye was caught +by my hair, or perhaps he paused a moment, I am not certain how it +was--my eyes were on my book. + +"Ah! vous avez raison, monsieur, c'est la plus belle chevelure! Mais +entrez donc, monsieur," cried Josephine, whom I can never teach to +comprehend or respect English customs, "Eh! entrez, entrez, monsieur; +madame est a sa toilette." + +As I looked up I could not forbear smiling at the extreme ease and +decision of Josephine's manner, and the excessive doubt and anxiety +in the gentleman's appearance. My smile, which, Heaven knows, meant +no encouragement, decided him; timidity instantly gave way to joy; he +entered. What was to be done? I could not turn him out again; I was not +answerable for any foolish conclusions he might draw, from what he ought +in politeness to have considered as a thing of course. All I could do +was to blame Josephine for being a French woman. To defend her, and +flatter me, was the gentleman's part; and, for an Englishman, he really +acquitted himself with tolerable grace. Josephine at least was pleased, +and she found such a perpetual employment for monsieur, and his advice +was so necessary, that there was no chance of his departure: so we +talked of French _toilettes_, &c. &c. in French, for Josephine's +edification: L---- paid me some compliments upon the recovery of my +looks after my illness--I thought I looked terribly languid--but he +assured me that this languor, in his eyes, was an additional grace; I +could not understand this: he fancied that must be because he did not +express himself well in French; he explained himself more clearly in +English, which Josephine, you know, does not understand, so that she +was now forced to be silent, and I was compelled to take my share in +the conversation. L---- made me comprehend, that languor, indicating +sensibility of heart, was to him the most touching of female charms; I +sighed, and took up the book I had been reading; it was the new novel +which you sent me, dear Gabrielle; I talked of it, in hopes of +changing the course of the conversation; alas! this led to one far more +dangerous: he looked at the passage I had been reading. This brought us +back to sensibility again--to sentiments and descriptions so terribly +apposite! we found such a similarity in our tastes! Yet L---- spoke only +in general, and he preserved a command over himself, which provoked me, +though I knew it to be coquetry; I saw the struggle in his mind, and +was determined to force him to be candid, and to enjoy my triumph. With +these views I went farther than I had intended. The charm of sensibility +he had told me was to him irresistible. Alas! I let him perceive all +the weakness of my heart.--Sensibility is the worst time-keeper in +the world. We were neither of us aware of its progressive motion. The +Swiss--my evil genius--the Swiss knocked at the door to let me know +dinner was served. Dinner! on what vulgar incidents the happiness of +life depends! Dinner came between the discovery of my sentiments and +that declaration of passion which I now must hear--or die. + +"Le diner! mon Dieu!" cried Josephine. "Mais--finissons donc--la +toilette de madame." + +I heard the impertinent Swiss at the other end of the gallery at his +master's door, wondering in broken English where his master could be, +and conjecturing forty absurdities about his boots, and his being out +riding, &c. &c. To sally forth in conscious innocence upon the enemy's +spies, and to terminate the adventure as it was begun, _a la Francoise_, +was my resolution. L---- and Josephine understood me perfectly. + +"Eh! Monsieur de Vaud," said Josephine to the Swiss, whom we met on +the landing-place of the stairs, "madame n'est elle pas coeffee a +ravir aujourd'hui? C'est que monsieur vient d'assister a la toilette de +madame." The Swiss bowed, and said nothing. The bow was to his master, +not to me, and it was a bow of duty, not of inclination. I never saw a +man look so like a machine; he did not even raise his eyes upon me or my +_coeffure_ as we passed. + +"Bah!" cried Josephine, with an inexpressible accent of mingled +indignation and contempt. She ran down stairs, leaving the Swiss to +his stupidity. I was more afraid of his penetration. But I entered the +dining-room as if nothing extraordinary had happened; and after all, +you know, my dear Gabrielle, nothing extraordinary had befallen us. +A gentleman had assisted at a lady's toilette. Nothing more simple, +nothing, more proper in the meridian of Paris; and does propriety change +with meridians? There was company at dinner, and the conversation was +general and uninteresting; L---- endeavoured to support his part with +vivacity; but he had fits of absence and silence, which might have +alarmed Leonora, if she had any suspicion. But she is now perfectly +secure, and absolutely blind: therefore you see there can be no +danger for her happiness in my remaining where I am. For no earthly +consideration would I disturb her peace of mind; there is no sacrifice +I would hesitate for a moment to make to friendship or virtue, but I +cannot surely be called upon to _plant a dagger in my own heart_ to +destroy, for ever to destroy my own felicity without advantage to my +friend. My attachment to L----, as you say, is involuntary, and my love +as pure as it is fervent. I have reason to believe that his sentiments +are the same for me; but of this I am not yet certain. There is the +danger, and the only real danger for Leonora's happiness; for whilst +this uncertainty and his consequent fits of absence and imprudence last, +there is hazard every moment of her being alarmed. But when L---- once +decides, every thing arranges itself, you know, Gabrielle, and prudence +becomes a duty to ourselves and to Leonora. No word, or look, or +coquetry could then escape us; we should be unpardonable if we did not +conduct ourselves with the most scrupulous delicacy and attention to her +feelings. I am amazed that L----, who has really a good understanding, +does not make these reflections, and is not determined by this +calculation. For his, for my own, but most for Leonora's sake, I +wish that this cruel suspense were at an end. Adieu, dear and amiable +Gabrielle.--These things are managed better in France. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XL. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +DEAR MARGARET, L---- Castle. + +I arrived here late yesterday evening in high spirits, and high hopes of +surprising and delighting all the world by my unexpected appearance; +but my pride was checked, and my tone changed the moment I saw Leonora. +Never was any human being so altered in her looks in so short a time. +I had just, and but just presence of mind enough not to say so. I am +astonished that it does not strike Mr. L----. As soon as she left the +room, I asked him if Lady Leonora had been ill? No; perfectly well! +perfectly well!--Did not he perceive that she looked extremely ill? No; +she might be paler than usual: that was all that Mr. L---- had observed. +Lady Olivia, after a pause, added, that Leonora certainly had not +appeared well lately, but this was nothing extraordinary in her +_situation_. _Situation!_ nonsense! Lady Olivia went on with sentimental +hypocrisy of look and tone, saying fine things, to which I paid little +attention. Virtue in words, and vice in actions! thought I. People, of +certain pretensions in the court of sentiment, think that they can pass +false virtues upon the world for real, as some ladies, entitled by their +rank to wear jewels, appear in false stones, believing that it will be +taken for granted they would wear nothing but diamonds. Not one eye in +a hundred detects the difference at first, but in time the hundredth eye +comes, and then they must for ever hide their diminished rays. Beware! +Lady Olivia, beware! + +Leonora is ill, or unhappy, or both; but she will not allow that she +is either. On one subject she is impenetrable: a hundred, a thousand +different ways within these four-and-twenty hours have I led to it, with +all the ingenuity and all the delicacy of which I am mistress; but all +to no purpose. Neither by provocation, persuasion, laughing, teazing, +questioning, cross, or round about, pushing, squeezing, encompassing, +taking for granted, wondering, or blundering, could I gain my point. +Every look guarded--every syllable measured--yet unequivocal-- + + "She said no more than just the thing she ought." + +Because I could find no fault, I was half angry. I respect the motive +of this reserve; but towards me it is misplaced, and ill-judged, and it +must not exist. I have often declared that I would never condescend to +play the part of a confidante to any princess or heroine upon earth. But +Leonora is neither princess nor heroine, and I would be her confidante, +but she will not let me. Now I am punished for my pride. If she would +only trust me, if she would only tell me what has passed since I went, +and all that now weighs upon her mind, I could certainly be of some use. +I could and would say every thing that she might scruple to hint to Lady +Olivia, and I will answer for it I would make her raise the siege. But +I cannot believe Mr. L---- to be such a madman as to think of attaching +himself seriously to a woman like Olivia, when he has such a wife as +Leonora. That he was amusing himself with Olivia I saw, or thought I +saw, some time ago, and I rather wondered that Leonora was uneasy: for +all husbands will flirt, and all wives must bear it, thought I. When +such a coquette as this fell in his way, and made advances, he would +have been more than man if he had receded. Of course, I thought, he must +despise and laugh at her all the time he was flattering and gallanting +her ladyship. This would have been fair play, and comic; but the comedy +should have ended by this time. I am now really afraid it will turn into +a tragedy. I, even I! am alarmed. I must prevail upon Leonora to speak +to me without reserve. I see her suffer, and I must share her grief. +Have not I always done so from the time we were children? and now, when +she most wants a friend, am not I worthy to share her confidence? Can +she mistake friendship for impertinent curiosity? Does not she know that +I would not be burthened with the secrets of any body whom I did not +love? If she thinks otherwise, she does me injustice, and I will tell +her so before I sleep. She does not know how well I love her. + + * * * * * + +My dear Margaret, Leonora and I have had a quarrel--the first serious +quarrel we ever had in our lives; and the end of it is, that she is an +angel, and I am a fool. Just as I laid down my pen after writing to you, +though it was long past midnight, I marched into Leonora's apartment, +resolved to surprise or to force her confidence. I found her awake, as +I expected, and up and dressed, as I did not expect, sitting in her +dressing-room, her head leaning upon her hand. I knew what she was +thinking of; she had a heap of Mr. L----'s old letters beside her. She +denied that she was in tears, and I will not swear to the tears, but +I think I saw signs of them notwithstanding. I spoke out;--but in +vain--all in vain. At last I flew into a passion, and reproached her +bitterly. She answered me with that air of dignified tenderness which +is peculiar to her--"If you believe me to be unhappy, my dear Helen, +is this a time to reproach me unjustly?" I was brought to reason and to +tears, and after asking pardon, like a foolish naughty child, was kissed +and forgiven, upon a promise never to do so any more; a promise which I +hope Heaven will grant me grace and strength of mind enough to keep. I +was certainly wrong to attempt to force her secret from her. Leonora's +confidence is always given, never yielded; and in her, openness is a +virtue, not a weakness. But I wish she would not contrive to be always +in the right. In all our quarrels, in all the variations of my humour, +I am obliged to end by doing homage to her reason, as the Chinese +mariners, in every change of weather, burn incense before the needle. + +Your affectionate + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLI. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +MY DEAR GENERAL, L---- Castle, Friday. + +I hoped that you would have favoured us with a passing visit in your +way from town, but I know you will tell me that friendship must not +interfere with the interests of the service. I have reason to curse +those interests; they are for ever at variance with mine. I had a +particular desire to speak to you upon a subject, on which it is not +agreeable to me to write. Lady Leonora also wished extremely, and +disinterestedly, for your company. She does not know how much she +is obliged to you. The laconic advice you gave me, some time ago, +influenced my conduct longer, than counsel which is in opposition to +our passions usually does, and it has haunted my imagination +perpetually:--"My dear L----, do not end by being the dupe of a +_Frenchified coquette_." + +My dear friend, of that there is no danger. No man upon earth despises +or detests coquettes more than I do, be they French or English. I think, +however, that a foreign-born, or foreign-bred coquette, has more of the +ease of _practice_, and less of the awkwardness of conscience, than +a home-bred flirt, and is in reality less blamable, for she breaks no +restraints of custom or education; she does only what she has seen her +mother do before her, and what is authorized by the example of most of +the fashionable ladies of her acquaintance. But let us put flirts and +coquettes quite out of the question. My dear general, you know that I am +used to women, and take it upon my word, that the lady to whom I allude +is more tender and passionate than vain. Every woman has, or has had, +a tincture of vanity; but there are a few, and those are to me the most +amiable of the sex, who + + "Feel every vanity in fondness lost." + +You know that I am delicate, even fastidious, in my taste for female +manners. Nothing can in my opinion make amends for any offence against +propriety, except it be sensibility--genuine, generous sensibility. +This can, in my mind, cover a multitude of faults. There is so much +of selfishness, of hypocrisy, of coldness, in what is visually called +female virtue, that I often turn with distaste from those to whom I am +compelled to do homage, for the sake of the general good of society. I +am not _charlatan_ enough to pretend upon all occasions to prefer the +public advantage to my own. I confess, that let a woman be ever so fair, +or good, or wise: + + "Be she with that goodness blest + Which may merit name of best, + If she be not such to me, + What care I how good she be?" + +And I will further acknowledge, that I am not easily satisfied with the +manner in which a woman is kind to me: if it be duty-work kindness, I +would not give thanks for it: it is done for her reputation, not for me, +and let the world thank her. To _the best of wives_, I should make the +worst of husbands. No--I should, I hope, pay her in her own coin, with +all due observances, attentions, and respect, but without one grain of +love. Love is only to be had for love; and without it, nothing a woman +can give appears to me worth having. I do not desire to be loved well +enough to satisfy fathers and mothers, and uncles and aunts; well enough +to decide a woman to marry me rather than disoblige her friends, or run +the chance of having _many a worse offer_, and living perhaps to be an +old maid. I do not desire to be loved well enough to keep a woman true +and faithful to me "_till death us do part_:" in short, I do not desire +to be loved well enough for a husband; I desire to be loved sufficiently +for a lover; not only above all other persons, but above all other +things, all other considerations--to be the first and last object in the +heart of the woman to whom I am attached: I wish to feel that I sustain +and fill the whole of her heart. I must be certain that I am every +thing to her, as she is every thing to me; that there is no imaginable +situation in which she would not live with me, in which she would not be +happy to live with me; no possible sacrifice that she would not make for +me; or rather, that nothing she could do should appear a sacrifice. Are +these exorbitant expectations? I am capable of all this, and more, for +a woman I love; and it is my pride or my misfortune to be able to love +upon no other terms. Such proofs of attachment it may be difficult to +obtain, and even to give; more difficult, I am sensible, for a wife +than for a mistress. A young lady who is married _secundum artem_, with +licence and consent of friends, can give no extraordinary instances of +affection. I should not consider it as an indisputable proof of love, +that she does me the honour to give me her hand in a church, or that she +condescends to bespeak my liveries, or to be handed into her own coach +with all the blushing honours of a bride; all the paraphernalia of a +wife secured, all the prudent and necessary provision made both for +matrimonial love and hatred, dower, pin-money, and separate maintenance +on the one hand, and on the other, lands, tenements, and hereditaments +for the future son and heir, and sums without end for younger children +to the tenth and twentieth possibility, _as the case may be, nothing +herein contained to the contrary in any wise notwithstanding_. Such a +jargon Cupid does not understand. A woman may love this most convenient +personage, her lawful husband; but I should think it difficult for the +delicacy of female passion to survive the cool preparations for hymeneal +felicity. At all events, you will allow the lady makes no sacrifice, she +shows no great generosity, and she may, or she may not, be touched at +the altar by the divine flame. My good general, when you are a husband +you will feel these things as I do; till then, it is very easy to talk +as you do, and to admire other men's wives, and to wish Heaven had +blessed you with such a treasure. For my part, the single idea, that +a woman thinks it her duty to be fond of me, would deprive me of all +pleasure in her love. No man can be more sensible than I am of the +amiable and estimable qualities of Lady Leonora L----; I should be a +brute and a liar if I hesitated to give the fullest testimony in her +praise; but such is the infirmity of my nature, that I could pardon some +faults more easily, than I could like some virtues. The virtues which +leave me in doubt of a woman's love, I can esteem, but that is all. Lady +Leonora is calm, serene, perfectly sweet-tempered, without jealousy and +without suspicion; in one word, without love. If she loved me, she never +could have been the wife she has been for some months past. You will +laugh at my being angry with a wife for not being jealous. But so it is. +Certain defects of temper I could bear, if I considered them as symptoms +of strong affection. When I for a moment believed that Leonora suffered, +when I attributed her fainting at our fete champetre to jealousy, I was +so much alarmed and touched, that I absolutely forgot her rival. I did +more; to prevent her feeling uneasiness, to destroy the suspicions which +I imagined had been awakened in her mind, I hesitated not to sacrifice +all the pleasure and all the vanity which a man of my age might +reasonably be supposed to feel in the prospect of a new and not +inglorious conquest; I left home immediately, and went to meet you, my +dear friend, on your return from abroad. This visit I do not set down +to your account, but to that of honour--foolish, unnecessary honour. You +half-persuaded me, that your hearsay Parisian evidence was more to be +trusted than my own judgment, and I returned home with the resolution +not to be the dupe of a coquette. Leonora's reception of me was +delightful; I never saw her in such spirits, or so amiable. But I could +not help wishing to ascertain whether I had attributed her fainting to +the real cause. This proof I tempted to my cost. Instead of showing any +tender alarm at the renewal of my obvious attentions to her rival, she +was perfectly calm and collected, went on with her usual occupations, +fulfilled all her duties, never reproached me by word or look, never for +one moment betrayed impatience, ill-humour, suspicion, or jealousy; in +short, I found that I had been fool enough to attribute to excess of +affection, an accident which proceeded merely from the situation of her +health. If anxiety of mind had been the cause of her fainting at the +fete champetre, she would since have felt and shown agitation on a +thousand occasions, where she has been perfectly tranquil. Her friend +Mrs. C----, who returned here a few days ago, seems to imagine that +Leonora looks ill; but I shall not again be led to mistake bodily +indisposition for mental suffering. Leonora's conduct argues great +insensibility of soul, or great command; great insensibility, I think: +for I cannot imagine such command of temper possible to any, but a +woman who feels indifference for the offender. Yet, even now that I have +steeled myself with this conviction, I am scarcely bold enough to hazard +the chance of giving her pain. Absurd weakness! It has been clearly +proved to my understanding, that my irresolution, my scruples of +conscience, my combats between love and esteem, are more likely to +betray the real state of my mind than any decision that I could make. +I decide, then--I determine to be happy with a woman who has a soul +capable of feeling, not merely what is called conjugal affection, but +the passion of love; who is capable of sacrificing every thing to love; +who has given me proofs of candour and greatness of mind, which I value +far above all her wit, grace, and beauty. My dear general, I know all +that you can tell, all that you can hint concerning her history abroad. +I know it from her own lips. It was told to me in a manner that made her +my admiration. It was told to me as a preservative against the danger +of loving her. It was told to me with the generous design of protecting +Leonora's happiness; and all this at the moment when I was beloved, +tenderly beloved. She is above dissimulation: she scorns the arts, the +fears of her sex. She knows you are her enemy, and yet she esteems you; +she urged me to speak to you with the utmost openness: "Let me never," +said she, "be the cause of your feeling less confidence or less +affection for the best of friends." + +R---- is sacrificed to me; that R----, with whose cursed name you +tormented me. My dear friend, she will force your admiration, as she has +won my love. + +Yours sincerely, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLII. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +L---- Castle. + +As I am not trusted with the secret, I may, my dear Margaret, use my +own eyes and ears as I please to find it out; and I know Leonora's +countenance so well, that I see every thing that passes in her mind, +just as clearly as if she had told it to me in words. + +It grieves me, more than I can express, to see her suffering as she +does. I am now convinced that she has reason to be unhappy; and what is +worse, I do not see what course she can follow to recover her happiness. +All her forbearance, all her patience, all her sweet temper, I perceive, +are useless, or worse than useless, injurious to her in her strange +husband's opinion. I never liked him thoroughly, and now I detest him. +He thinks her cold, insensible! She insensible!--Brute! Idiot! Every +thing that she says or does displeases him. The merest trifles excite +the most cruel suspicions. He totally misunderstands her character, and +sees every thing about her in a false light. In short, he is under +the dominion of an artful fiend, who works as she pleases upon his +passions--upon his pride, which is his ruling passion. + +This evening Lady Olivia began confessing that she had too much +sensibility, that she was of an excessively susceptible temper, and +that she should be terribly jealous of the affections of any person she +loved. She did not know how love _could_ exist without jealousy. Mr. +L---- was present, and listening eagerly. Leonora's lips were silent; +not so her countenance. I was in hopes Mr. L---- would have remarked its +beautiful touching expression; but his eyes were fixed upon Olivia. I +could have ... but let me go on. Lady Olivia had the malice suddenly +to appeal to Leonora, and asked whether she was never jealous of her +husband? Leonora, astonished by her assurance, paused for an instant, +and then replied, "It would be difficult to convince me that I had any +reason to be jealous of Mr. L----, I esteem him so much."--"I wish to +Heaven!" exclaimed Lady Olivia, her eyes turned upwards with a fine St. +Cecilia expression, whilst Mr. L----'s attention was fixed upon her, +"Would to Heaven I was blessed with such a _reasonable_ temper!"--"When +you are wishing to Heaven, Lady Olivia," said I, "had not you better ask +for _all you want_ at once; not only such a reasonable temper, but such +a feeling heart?" + +Some of the company smiled. Lady Olivia, practised as she is, looked +disconcerted; Mr. L---- grave and impenetrable; Leonora, blushing, +turned away to the piano-forte. Mr. L---- remained talking with Lady +Olivia, and he neither saw nor heard her. If Leonora had sung like an +angel, it would have made no impression. She turned over the leaves +of her music quickly, to a lively air, and played it immediately, to +prevent my perceiving how much she felt. Poor Leonora! you are but a bad +dissembler, and it is in vain to try to conceal yourself from me. + +I was so sorry for her, and so incensed with Olivia this night, that I +could not restrain myself, and I made matters worse. At supper I came +almost to open war with her ladyship. I cannot remember exactly what +I said, but I know that I threw out the most severe inuendoes which +politeness could permit: and what _was_ the consequence? Mr. L---- +pitied Olivia and hated me; Leonora was in misery the whole time; and +her husband probably thought that she was the instigator, though she was +perfectly innocent. My dear Margaret, where will all this end? and how +much more mischief shall I do with the best intentions possible? + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLIII. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +Your letter has travelled after me God knows where, my dear L----, and +has caught me at last with my foot in the stirrup. I have just had time +to look it over. I find, in short, that you are in love. I give you joy! +But be in love like a madman, not like a fool. Call a demirep an angel, +and welcome; but remember, that such angels are to be had any day in +the year; and such a wife as yours is not to be had for the mines of +Golconda. Coin your heart, and drop your blood for it, and you will +never be loved by any other woman so well as you are by Lady Leonora +L----. + +As to your jealous hypochondriacism, more of that when I have more +leisure. In the mean time I wish it well cured. + +I am, my dear friend, + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLIV. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + +I Triumph! dear Gabrielle, give me joy! Never was triumph more complete. +L---- loves me! That I knew long ago; but I have at last forced from his +proud heart the avowal of his passion. Love and Olivia are victorious +over scruples, prejudice, pride, and superstition! + +Leonora feels not--sees not: she requires, she excites no pity. Long may +her delusion last! But even were it this moment to dissipate, what cause +have I for remorse? "Who is most to blame, he who ceases to love, or +she who ceases to please?" Leonora perhaps thinks that she loves her +husband; and no doubt she does so in a conjugal sort of a way: he _has_ +loved his wife; but be it mine to prove that his heart is suited to far +other raptures; and if Olivia be called upon for sacrifices, _Olivia_ +can make them. + + "Let wealth, let honour wait the wedded dame, + August her deed, and sacred be her fame; + Before true passion, all those views remove, + Fame, wealth, and honour, what are you to love?" + +These lines, though quoted perpetually by the tender and passionate, +can never become stale and vulgar; they will always recur in certain +situations to persons of delicate sensibility, for they at once express +all that can be said, and justify all that can be felt. My amiable +Gabrielle, adieu. Pardon me if to-day I have no soul even for +friendship. This day is all for love. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLV. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +What the devil would you have of your wife, my dear L----? You would +be loved above all earthly considerations; honour, duty, virtue, and +religion inclusive, would you? and you would have a wife with her +head in the clouds, would you? I wish you were married to one of the +all-for-love heroines, who would treat you with bowl and dagger every +day of your life. In your opinion sensibility covers a multitude of +faults--you would have said _sins_: so it had need, for it produces +a multitude. Pray what brings hundreds and thousands of women to the +Piazzas of Covent Garden but sensibility? What does the colonel's, and +the captain's, and the ensign's mistress talk of but _sensibility_? And +are you, my dear friend, to be duped by this hackneyed word? And should +you really think it an indisputable proof of a lady's love, that she +would jump out of a two pair of stairs window into your arms? Now I +should think myself sure of such a woman's love only just whilst I held +her, and scarcely then; for I, who in my own way am jealous as well +as yourself, should in this case be jealous of wickedness, and should +strongly suspect that she would love the first devil that she saw better +than me. + +You are always raving about sacrifices. Your Cupid must be a very +vindictive little god. Mine is a good-humoured, rosy little fellow, who +desires no better than to see me laugh and be happy. But to every man +his own Cupid. If you cannot believe in love without sacrifices, you +must have them, to be sure. And now, in sober sadness, what do you think +your heroine would sacrifice for you? Her reputation? that, pardon me, +is out of her power. Her virtue? I have no doubt she would. But before I +can estimate the value of this sacrifice, I must know whether she makes +it to you or to her pleasure. Would she give up in any instance her +pleasure for your happiness? This is not an easy matter to ascertain +with respect to a mistress: but your wife has put it beyond a doubt, +that she prefers your happiness not only to her pleasure, but to her +pride, and to every thing that the sex usually prefer to a husband. You +have been wounded by a poisoned arrow; but you have a faithful wife who +can extract the poison. Lady Leonora's affection is not a mere fit of +goodness and generosity, such as I have seen in many women, but it is a +steadiness of attachment in the hour of trial, which I have seen in few. +For several months past you have, by your own account, put her temper +and her love to the most severe tests, yet she has never failed for one +moment, never reproached you by word or look.--But may be she has no +feeling.--No feeling! you can have none, if you say so: no penetration, +if you think so. Would not you think me a tyrant if I put a poor fellow +on the picket, and told you, when he bore it without a groan, that it +was because he could not feel? You do worse, you torture the soul of the +woman who loves you; she endures, she is calm, she smiles upon you +even in agony; and you tell me she cannot feel! she cannot feel like an +Olivia! No; and so much the better for her husband, for she will then +have only feeling enough for him, she will not extend her charity to all +his sex. But Olivia has such candour and magnanimity, that I must admire +her! I humbly thank her for offering to make me her confidant, for +offering to tell me what I know already, and what she is certain that +I know. These were good moves, but I understand the game as well as her +ladyship does. As to her making a friend of me; if she means an enemy to +Lady Leonora L----, I would sooner see her--in heaven: but if she would +do me the favour to think no more of your heart, which is too good for +her, and to accept of my--my--what shall I say?--my devoirs, I am at her +command. She shall drive my curricle, &c. &c. She would suit me vastly +well for a month or two, and by that time poor R---- would make his +appearance, or somebody in his stead: at the worst, I should have +a chance of some blessed metaphysical quirk, which would prove that +inconstancy was a virtue, or that a new love is better than an old +one. When it came to that, I should make my best bow, put on my most +disconsolate face, and retire. + +You will read all this in a very different spirit from that in which +it is written. If you are angry--no matter: I am cool. I tell you +beforehand, that I will not fight you for any thing I have said in this +letter, or that I ever may say about your Olivia. Therefore, my dear +L----, save yourself the trouble of challenging me. I thank God I have +reputation enough to be able to dispense with the glory of blowing out +your brains. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLVI. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +We have been very gay here the last few days: the gallant and +accomplished Prince ---- has been here. H----, the witty H----, who is +his favourite companion, introduced him; and he seems so much +charmed with the old castle, its towers and battlements, and with its +_cynosure_, that I know not when he will be able to prevail upon himself +to depart. To-morrow, he says; but so he has said these ten days: +he cannot resist the entreaties of his kind host and hostess to stay +another day. The soft accent of the beautiful Leonora will certainly +detain him _one day more_, and her gracious smile will bereave him of +rest for months to come. He has evidently fallen desperately in love +with her. Now we shall see virtue in danger. + +I have always been of opinion with St. Evremond and Ninon de l'Enclos, +that no female virtue can stand every species of test; fortunately it +is not always exposed to trial. Reputation may be preserved by certain +persons in certain situations, upon very easy terms. Leonora, for +instance, is armed so strong in character, that no common mortal will +venture to attack her. It would be presumption little short of high +treason to imagine the fall of the Lady Leonora L----, the daughter of +the Duchess of ----, who, with a long line of immaculate baronesses +in their own right, each in her armour of stiff stays, stands frowning +defiance upon the adventurous knights. More alarming still to the modern +seducer, appears a judge in his long wig, and a jury with their +long faces, ready to bring in their verdict, and to award damages +proportionate to the rank and fortune of the parties. Then the former +reputation of the lady is talked of, and the irreparable injury +sustained by the disconsolate husband from the loss of the solace and +affection of this paragon of wives. And it is proved that she lived in +the most perfect harmony with him, till the vile seducer appeared; who, +in aggravation of damages, was a confidential friend of the husband's, +&c. &c. &c. &c. &c. + +Brave, indeed, and desperately in love must be the man, who could dare +all these to deserve the fair. But princes are, it is said, naturally +brave, and ambitious of conquering difficulties. + +I have insinuated these reflections in a general way to L----, who +applies them so as to plague himself sufficiently. Heaven is my witness, +that I mean no injury to Lady Leonora; yet I fear that there +are moments, when my respect for her superiority, joined to the +consciousness of my own weakness, overpowers me, and I almost envy +her the right she retains to the esteem of the man I love. This is a +blamable weakness--I know it--I reproach myself bitterly; but all I can +do is to confess it candidly. L---- sees my conflicts, and knows how to +value the sensibility of my fond heart. Adieu, my Gabrielle. When shall +I be happy? since even love has its torments, and I am thus doomed to be +ever a victim to the tenderness of my soul. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLVII. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +I do not know whether I pity, love, or admire Leonora most. Just when +her mind was deeply wounded by her husband's neglect, and when her +jealousy was worked to the highest pitch by his passion for her +dangerous rival, the Prince ---- arrives here, and struck by Leonora's +charms of mind and person, falls passionately in love with her. Probably +his highness's friend H---- had given him a hint of the existing +circumstances, and he thought a more propitious moment could scarcely be +found for making an impression upon a female mind. He judged of Leonora +by other women. And I, like a simpleton, judged of her by myself. With +shame I confess to you, my dear Margaret, that notwithstanding all my +past experience, I did expect that she would have done, as I am afraid +I should have done in her situation. I think that I could not have +resisted the temptation of coquetting a little--a very little--just +to revive the passion of the man whom I really loved. This expedient +succeeds so often with that wise sex, who never rightly know the value +of a heart, except when they have just won it, or at the moment when +they are on the point of losing it. In Leonora's place and in such +an emergency, I should certainly have employed that frightful monster +jealousy to waken sleeping love; since he, and only he, can do it +expeditiously and effectually. This I have hinted to Leonora, talking +always _in generals_; for, since my total overthrow, I have never dared +to come to particulars: but by putting cases and _confessing myself_, I +contrived to make my thoughts understood. I then boasted of the extreme +facility of the means I would adopt to recover a heart. Leonora answered +in the words of a celebrated great man:--"C'est facile de se servir de +pareils moyens; c'est difficile de s'y resoudre." + +"But if no other means would succeed," said I, "would not you sacrifice +your pride to your love?" + +"My pride, willingly; but not my sense of what is right," said she, with +an indescribable mixture of tenderness and firmness in her manner. + +"Can a little coquetry in a good cause be such a heinous offence?" +persisted I. I knew that I was wrong all the time; but I delighted in +seeing how right she was. + +No--she would not allow her mind to be cheated by female sophistry; nor +yet by the male casuistry of, "the end sanctifies the means." + +"If you had the misfortune to lose the affections of the man you love, +and if you were quite certain of regaining them by following my recipe?" +said I. + +Never shall I forget the look with which Leonora left me, and the accent +with which she said, "My dear Helen, if it were ever to be my misfortune +to lose my husband's love, I would not, even if I were certain of +success, attempt to regain it by any unworthy arts. How could I wish to +regain his love at the hazard of losing his esteem, and the certainty of +forfeiting my own!" + +I said no more--I had nothing more to say: I saw that I had given pain, +and I have never touched upon the subject since. But her practice is +even beyond her theory. Never, by deed, or look, or word, or thought +(for I see all her thoughts in her eloquent countenance), has +she swerved from her principles. No prudery--no coquetry--no +mock-humility--no triumph. Never for an instant did she, by a proud air, +say to her husband,--See what others think of me! Never did a resentful +look say to him--Inconstant!--revenge is in my power! Never even did a +reproachful sigh express--I am injured, yet I do not retaliate. + +Mr. L----is blind; he is infatuated; he is absolutely bereaved of +judgment by a perfidious, ungrateful, and cruel wretch. Let me vent my +indignation to you, dear Margaret, or it will explode, perhaps, when it +may do Leonora mischief. Yours affectionately, Helen C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLVIII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE F----. + + +L---- Castle. + +This Lady Leonora, in her simplicity, never dreamed of love till the +prince's passion was too visible and audible to be misunderstood: +and then she changed her tone, and checked her simplicity, and was so +reserved, and so dignified, and so _proper_, it was quite edifying, +especially to a poor sinner of a coquette like me; nothing _piquante_; +nothing _agacante_; nothing _demi-voilee_; no retiring to be pursued; +not a single manoeuvre of coquetry did she practise. This convinces me +that she cares not in the least for her husband; because, if she really +loved him, and wished to reclaim his heart, what so natural or so simple +as to excite his jealousy, and thus revive his love? After neglecting +this golden opportunity, she can never convince me that she is really +anxious about her husband's heart. This I hinted to L----, and his own +susceptibility had hinted it to him efficaciously, before I spoke. + +Though Leonora has been so correct hitherto, and so cold to the prince +in her husband's presence, I have my suspicions that, if in his absence, +proper means were taken, if her pride were roused by apt suggestions, if +it were delicately pointed out to her that she is shamefully neglected, +that she is a cipher in her own house, that her husband presumes too +much upon her sweetness of temper, that his inconstancy is wondered at +by all who have eyes, and that a little retaliation might become her +ladyship, I would not answer for her forbearance, that is to say if all +this were done by a dexterous man, a lover and a prince! I shall take +care my opinions shall be known; for I cannot endure to have the esteem +of the man I love monopolized. Exposed to temptation, as I have been, +and with as ardent affections, Leonora, or I am much mistaken, would +not have been more estimable. Adieu, my dearest Gabrielle. Nous verrons! +nous verrons! + +OLIVIA. + +Sunday evening. + +P.S. I open my letter to tell you that the prince is actually gone. +Doubtless he will return at a more auspicious moment. + +Lady M---- and all the troop of friends are to depart on Monday; all but +_the_ bosom friend, _l'amie intime_, that insupportable Helen, who is +ever at daggers-drawing with me. So much the better! L---- sees her +cabals with his wife; she is a partisan without the art to be so to any +purpose, and her manoeuvres tend only to increase his partiality for his +Olivia. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XLIX. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +L---- Castle. + + * * * * * + +* * * * * In short, Leonora has discovered all that she might have seen +months ago between her husband and me. What will be the consequence? +I long, yet almost fear, to meet her again. She is now in her own +apartment, writing, I presume, to her mother for advice. + + * * * * * + +LETTER L. + +LEONORA TO OLIVIA. + +[Left on Lady Olivia's dressing-table.] + + +O you, whom no kindness can touch, whom no honour can bind, whom no +faith can hold, enjoy the torments you have inflicted on me! enjoy the +triumph of having betrayed a confiding friend! Friend no more--affect, +presume no longer to call me friend! I am under no necessity to +dissemble, and dissimulation is foreign to my habits, and abhorrent to +my nature! I know you to be my enemy, and I say so--my most cruel enemy; +one who could, without reluctance or temptation, rob me of all I hold +most dear. Yes, without temptation; for you do not love my husband, +Olivia. On this point I cannot be mistaken; I know too well what it +is to love him. Had you been struck by his great or good and amiable +qualities, charmed by his engaging manners, or seduced by the violence +of his passion; and had I seen you honourably endeavour to repress that +passion; had I seen in you the slightest disposition to sacrifice your +pleasure or your vanity to friendship or to duty, I think I could have +forgiven, I am sure I should have pitied you. But you felt no pity for +me, no shame for yourself; you made no attempt to avoid, you invited the +danger. Mr. L---- was not the deceiver, but the deceived. By every +art and every charm in your power--and you have many--you won upon his +senses and worked upon his imagination; you saw, and made it your pride +to conquer the scruples of that affection he once felt for his wife, +and that wife was your friend. By passing bounds, which he could not +conceive that any woman could pass, except in the delirium of passion, +you made him believe that your love for him exceeds all that I feel. How +he will find himself deceived! If you had loved him as I do, you could +not so easily have forfeited all claim to his esteem. Had you loved him +so much, you would have loved honour more. + +It is possible that Mr. L---- may taste some pleasure with you whilst +his delusion lasts, whilst his imagination paints you, as mine once +did, in false colours, possessed of generous virtues, and the victim +of excessive sensibility: but when he sees you such as you are, he will +recoil from you with aversion, he will reject you with contempt. + +Knowing my opinion of you, Lady Olivia, you will not choose to remain in +this house; nor can I desire for my guest one whom I can no longer, in +private or in public, make my companion. + +Adieu. + +Leonora L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LI. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +L---- Castle, Midnight. + +Farewell for ever!--It must be so--Farewell for ever! Would to Heaven +I had summoned courage sooner to pronounce these fatal, necessary, +irrevocable words: then had I parted from you without remorse, without +the obloquy to which I am now exposed. Oh, my dearest L----! Mine, do +I still dare to call you? Yes, mine for the last time, I must call +you, mine I must fancy you, though for the impious thought the Furies +themselves were to haunt me to madness. My dearest L----, never more +must we meet in this world! Think not that my weak voice alone forbids +it: no, a stronger voice than mine is heard--an injured wife reclaims +you. What a letter have I just received...!--from.....Leonora! She tells +me that she no longer desires for her guest one whom she cannot, in +public or private, make her companion--Oh, Leonora, it was sufficient +to banish me from your heart! She tells me not only that I have for ever +forfeited her confidence; her esteem, her affection; but that I shall +soon be your aversion and contempt. Oh, cruel, cruel words! But I +submit--I have deserved it all--I have robbed her of a heart above all +price. Leonora, why did you not reproach me more bitterly? I desire, +I implore to be crushed, to be annihilated by your vengeance! Most +admirable, most virtuous, most estimable of women, best of wives, I have +with sacrilegious love profaned a soul consecrated to you and conjugal +virtue. I acknowledge my crime; trample upon me as you will, I am +humbled in the dust. More than all your bitterest reproaches, do I +feel the remorse of having, for a moment, interrupted such serenity of +happiness. + +Oh, why did you persuade me, L----, and why did I believe that Leonora +was calm and free from all suspicion? How could I believe that any woman +whom you had ever loved, could remain blind to your inconstancy, or feel +secure indifference? Happy woman! in you to love is not a crime; you +may glory in your passion, whilst I must hide mine from every human eye, +drop in shameful secrecy the burning tear, stifle the struggling sigh, +blush at the conflicts of virtue and sensibility, and carry shame +and remorse with me to the grave. Happy Leonora! happy even when most +injured, you have a right to complain to him you love;--he is yours--you +are his wife--his esteem, his affection are yours. On Olivia he has +bestowed but a transient thought, and eternal ignominy must be her +portion. So let it be--so I wish it to be. Would to Heaven I may thus +atone for the past, and secure your future felicity! Fly to her, my +dearest L----, I conjure you! throw yourself at her feet, entreat, +implore, obtain her forgiveness. She cannot refuse it to your tears, to +your caresses. To withstand them she must be more or less than woman. +No, she cannot resist your voice when it speaks words of peace and love; +she will press you with transport to her heart, and Olivia, poor Olivia, +will be for ever forgotten; yet she will rejoice in your felicity; +absolved perhaps in the eye of Heaven, though banished from your +society, she will die content. + +Full well am I aware of the consequences of quitting thus precipitately +the house of Lady Leonora L----; but nothing that concerns myself alone +can, for a moment, make me hesitate to do that, which the sentiment of +virtue dictates, and which is yet more strongly urged by regard for +the happiness of one, who once allowed me to call her friend. I know +my reputation is irrecoverably sacrificed; but it is to one for whom I +would lay down my life. Can a woman who feels as I do deem any earthly +good a sacrifice for him she loves? Dear L----, adieu for ever! + +Olivia. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LII. + +LEONORA TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +Dearest Mother, + +It is all over--my husband is gone--gone perhaps for ever--all is in +vain--all is lost! + +Without saying more to you than I ought, I may tell you, that in +consequence of an indignant letter which I wrote last night to Lady +Olivia, she left my house this morning early, before any of the family +were up. Mr. L---- heard of her departure before I did. He has, I will +not say followed her, for of that I am not certain; but he has quitted +home, and without giving me one kind look at parting, without even +noticing a letter which I left last night upon his table. At what slight +things we catch to save us from despair! How obstinate, how vain is +hope! I fondly hoped, even to the last moment, that this letter, this +foolish letter, would work a sudden change in my husband's heart, would +operate miracles, would restore me to happiness. I fancied, absurdly +fancied, that laying open my whole soul to him would have an effect upon +his mind. Alas! has not my whole soul been always open to him? Could +this letter tell him any thing but what he knows already, or what he +will never know--how well I love him! I was weak to expect so much from +it; yet as it expressed without complaint the anguish of disappointed +affection, it deserved at least some acknowledgment. Could not he have +said, "My dear Leonora, I thank you for your letter?"--or more colder +still--"Leonora, I have received your letter?" Even that would have been +some relief to me: but now all is despair. I saw him just when he was +going away, but for a moment; till the last instant he was not to be +seen; then, in spite of all his command of countenance, I discerned +strong marks of agitation; but towards me an air of resentment, more +than any disposition to kinder thoughts. I fancy that he scarcely knew +what he said, nor, I am sure, did I. He talked, I remember, of having +immediate business in town, and I endeavoured to believe him. Contrary +to his usual composed manner, he was in such haste to be gone, that I +was obliged to send his watch and purse after him, which he had left on +his dressing-table. How melancholy his room looked to me! His clothes +just as he had left them--a rose which Lady Olivia gave him yesterday +was in water on his table. My letter was not there; so he has it, +probably unread. He will read it some time or other, perhaps--and some +time or other, perhaps, when I am dead and gone, he will believe I loved +him. Could he have known what I felt at the moment when he turned from +me, he would have pitied me; for his nature, his character, cannot be +quite altered in a few months, though he has ceased to love Leonora. +From the window of his own room I watched for the last glimpse +of him--heard him call to the postilions, and bid them "drive +fast--faster." This was the last sound I heard of his voice. When shall +I hear that voice again? I think that I shall certainly hear from him +the day after to-morrow--and I wish to-day and to-morrow were gone. + +I am afraid that you will think me very weak; but, my dear mother, I +have no motive for fortitude now; and perhaps it might have been better +for me, if I had not exerted so much. I begin to fear that all my +fortitude is mistaken for indifference. Something Mr. L---- said +the other day, about sensibility and sacrifices, gave me this idea. +Sensibility!--It has been my hard task for some months past to repress +mine, that it might not give pain or disgust. I have done all that +my reason and my dearest mother counselled; surely I cannot have done +wrong. How apt we are to mistake the opinion or the taste of the man we +love for the rule of right! Sacrifices! What sacrifices can I make?--All +that I have, is it not his?--My whole heart, is it not his? Myself, +all that I am, all that I _can_ be? Have I not lived with him of late, +without recalling to his mind the idea that I suffer by his neglect? +Have I not left his heart at liberty, and can I make a greater +sacrifice? I really do not understand what he means by sacrifices. A +woman who loves her husband is part of him; whatever she does for him +is for herself. I wish he would explain to me what he can mean by +sacrifices--but when will he ever again explain his thoughts and +feelings to me? + +My dearest mother, it has been a relief to my mind to write all this to +you; if there is no sense in it, you will forgive and encourage me by +your affection and strength of mind, which, in all situations, have such +power to soothe and support your daughter. + +The prince ----, who spent a fortnight here, paid me particular +attention. + +The prince talked of soon paying us another visit. If he should, I will +not receive him in Mr. L----'s absence. This may seem like vanity or +prudery; but no matter what it appears, if it be right. + +Well might you, my best friend, bid me beware of forming an intimacy +with an unprincipled woman. I have suffered severely for neglecting your +counsels; how much I have still to endure is yet to be tried: but I can +never be entirely miserable whilst I possess, and whilst I hope that I +deserve, the affection of such a mother. + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LIII. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO HER DAUGHTER. + + +If my approbation and affection can sustain you in this trying +situation, your fortitude will not forsake you, my beloved daughter. +Great minds rise in adversity; they are always equal to the trial, and +superior to injustice: betrayed and deserted, they feel their own force, +and they rely upon themselves. Be yourself, my Leonora! Persevere as +you have begun, and, trust me, you will be happy. I abide by my first +opinion, I repeat my prophecy--your husband's esteem, affection, love, +will be permanently yours. Change of circumstances, however alarming, +cannot shake the fixed judgment of my understanding. Character, as you +justly observe, cannot utterly change in a few months. Your husband is +deceived, he is now as one in the delirium of a fever: he will recover +his senses, and see Lady Olivia and you such as you are. + +You do not explain, and I take it for granted you have good reasons for +not explaining to me more fully, the immediate cause of your letter to +Lady Olivia. I am sorry that any cause should have thrown her upon +the protection of Mr. L----; for a man of honour and generosity feels +himself bound to treat with tenderness a woman who appears to sacrifice +every thing for his sake. Consider this in another point of view, and it +will afford you subject of consolation; for it is always a consolation +to good minds, to think those whom they love less to blame than they +appear to be. You will be more calm and patient when you reflect that +your husband's absence may be prolonged by a mistaken sense of honour. +From the nature of his connexion with Lady Olivia it cannot last long. +Had she saved appearances, and engaged him in a sentimental affair, it +might have been far more dangerous to your happiness. + +I entirely approve of your conduct with respect to the prince: it is +worthy of my child, and just what I should have expected from her. The +artifices of coquettes, and all the _art_ of love is beneath her; she +has far other powers and resources, and need not strive to maintain her +dignity by vengeance. I admire your magnanimity, and I still more admire +your good sense; for high spirit is more common in our sex than +good sense. Few know how, and when, they should sacrifice small +considerations to great ones. You say that you will not receive the +prince in your husband's absence, though this may be attributed to +prudery or vanity, &c. &c. You are quite right. How many silly women +sacrifice the happiness of their lives to the idea of what women or men, +as silly as themselves, will say or think of their motives. How many +absurd heroines of romance, and of those who imitate them in real life, +do we see, who can never act with common sense or presence of mind: if +a man's carriage breaks down, or his horse is tired at the end of their +avenues, or for some such ridiculous reason, they must do the very +reverse of all they know to be prudent. Perpetually exposed, by a fatal +concurrence of circumstances, to excite the jealousy of their lovers +and husbands, they create the necessity to which they fall a victim. I +rejoice that I cannot feel any apprehension of my daughter's conducting +herself like one of these novel-bred ladies. + +I am sorry, my dear, that Lady M---- and your friends have left you: yet +even in this there may be good. Your affairs will be made less public, +and you will be less the subject of impertinent curiosity. I advise you, +however, to mix as much as usual with your neighbours in the country: +your presence, and the dignity of your manners, will impose silence upon +idle tongues. No wife of real spirit solicits the world for compassion: +she who does not court popularity ensures respect. + +Adieu, my dearest child: the time will come when your husband will feel +the full merit of your fortitude; when he will know how to distinguish +between true and false sensibility; between the love of an Olivia and of +a Leonora. ----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LIV. + +MRS. C---- TO MISS B----. + + +Jan. 26. + +My Dear Margaret, + +I shall never forgive myself. I fear I have done Leonora irreparable +injury; and, dear magnanimous sufferer, she has never reproached me! In +a fit of indignation and imprudent zeal I made a discovery, which +has produced a total breach between Leonora and Lady Olivia, and in +consequence of this Mr. L---- has gone off with her ladyship + + * * * * * + +We have heard nothing from Mr. L---- since his departure, and Leonora is +more unhappy than ever, and my imprudence is the cause of this. Yet +she continues to love me. She is an angel! I have promised her not to +mention her affairs in future even in any of my letters to you, dear +Margaret. Pray quiet any reports you may hear, and stop idle tongues. + +Yours affectionately, + +Helen C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LV. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +Richmond. + +My Dear Friend, + +I do not think I could have borne with temper, from any other man +breathing, the last letter which I received from you. I am sensible that +it was written with the best intentions for my happiness; but I must now +inform you, that the lady in question has accepted of my protection, and +consequently no man who esteems me can treat her with disrespect. + +It is no longer a question, what she will sacrifice for me; she has +shown the greatest generosity and tenderness of soul; and I should +despise myself, if I did not exert every power to make her happy.--We +are at Richmond; but if you write, direct to me at my house in town. + +Yours sincerely, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LVI. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +Dream your dream out, my dear L----. Since you are angry with me, as +Solander was with Sir Joseph Banks for awakening him, I shall not take +the liberty of shaking you any more. I believe I shook you rather too +roughly: but I assure you it was for your good, as people always tell +their friends when they do the most disagreeable things imaginable. +Forgive me, and I will let you dream in peace. You will, however, allow +me to watch by you, whilst you sleep; and, my dear somnambulist, I may +just take care that you do not knock your head against a post, or fall +into a well. + +I hope you will not have any objection to my paying my respects to Lady +Olivia when I come to town, which, I flatter myself, I shall be able to +do shortly. The fortifications here are almost completed. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LVII. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +Richmond, ----. + +Happy!--No, my dear Gabrielle, nor shall I ever be happy, whilst I +have not exclusive possession of the heart of the man I love. I have +sacrificed every thing to him; I have a right to expect that he should +sacrifice at least a wife for me--a wife whom he only esteems. But L---- +has not sufficient strength of mind to liberate himself from the cobwebs +which restrain those who talk of conscience, and who, in fact, are only +superstitious. I see with indignation, that his soul is continually +struggling between passion for me and a something, I know not what to +call it, that he feels for this wife. His thoughts are turning towards +home. I believe that to an Englishman's ears, there is some magic in +the words _home_ and _wife_. I used to think foreigners ridiculous for +associating the ideas of Milord Anglois with roast beef and pudding; but +I begin to see that they are quite right, and that an Englishman has a +certain set of inveterate _homely_ prejudices, which are necessary to +his well-being, and almost to his existence. You may entice him into the +land of sentiment, and for a time keep him there; but refine and polish +and enlighten him, as you will, he recurs to his own plain sense, as +he terms it, on the first convenient opportunity. In short, it is lost +labour to civilize him, for sooner or later he will _hottentot_ again. +Pray introduce that term, Gabrielle--_you_ can translate it. For +my part, I can introduce nothing here; my maniere d'etre is really +insupportable; my talents are lost; I, who am accustomed to shine in +society, see nobody; I might, as Josephine every day observes, as well +be buried alive. Retirement and love are charming; but then it must be +perfect love--not the equivocating sort that L---- feels for me, +which keeps the word of promise only to the ear. I bear every sort of +desagrement for him; I make myself a figure for the finger of scorn to +point at, and he insults me with esteem for a wife. Can you conceive +this, my amiable Gabrielle?--No, there are ridiculous points in the +characters of my countrymen which you will never be able to comprehend. +And what is still more incomprehensible, it is my fate to love this man; +yes, passionately to love him!--But he must give me proof of reciprocal +passion. I have too much spirit to sacrifice every thing for him, who +will sacrifice nothing for me. Besides, I have another motive. To you, +my faithful Gabrielle, I open my whole heart.--Pride inspires me as well +as love. I am resolved that Leonora, the haughty Leonora, shall live +to repent of having insulted and exasperated Olivia. In some situations +contempt can be answered only by vengeance; and when the malice of a +contracted and illiberal mind provokes it, revenge is virtue. Leonora +has called me her enemy, and consequently has made me such. 'Tis she has +declared the war! 'tis for me to decide the victory! + +L----, I know, has the offer of an embassy to Petersburg.--He shall +accept it.--I will accompany him thither. Lady Leonora may, in his +absence, console herself with her august counsellor and mother:--that +proudest of earthly paragons is yet to be taught the extent of Olivia's +power. Adieu, my charming Gabrielle! I will carry your tenderest +remembrances to our brilliant Russian princess. She has often invited +me, you know, to pay her a visit, and this will be the ostensible object +of my journey. A horrible journey, to be sure!!!--But what will not +love undertake and accomplish, especially when goaded by pride, and +inspirited by great revenge? + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LVIII. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Victim to the delusions of passion, too well I know my danger, and now, +even now, foresee my miserable fate. Too well I know, that the delicious +poison which spreads through my frame exalts, entrances, but to destroy. +Too well I know that the meteor fire, which shines so bright on my path, +entices me forward but to plunge me in the depths of infamy. The +long warnings of recorded time teach me, that perjured man triumphs, +disdains, and abandons. Too well, alas! I know these fatal truths; too +well I feel my approaching doom. Yet, infatuated as I am, prescience +avails not; the voice of prudence warns, the hand of Heaven beckons me +in vain. + +My friend! my more than friend, my lover! beloved beyond expression! you +to whom I immolate myself, you for whom I sacrifice more than life. Oh, +whisper words of peace! for you, and you alone, can tranquillize this +agitated bosom. Assure me, L----, if with truth you can assure me, that +I have no rival in your affections. Oh, tell me that the name of wife +does not invalidate the claims of love! Repeat for me, a thousand times +repeat, that I am sole possessor of your heart! + +The moment you quit me I am overpowered with melancholy forebodings. +Scarcely are you out of my sight, before I dread, that I shall never +see you more, or that some fatality should deprive me of your love. +When shall the sails of love waft us from this dangerous shore? Oh! +when shall I dare to call you mine? Heavens! how many things may +intervene...! Let nothing detain you from Richmond this evening; but +come not at all--come no more, unless to reassure my trembling heart, +and to convince me that love and Olivia have banished every other image. + +Olivia. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LIX. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +My Dear General, + +I am come to a resolution to accept of that embassy to Russia which I +lately refused. My mind has been in such constant anxiety for some +time past, that my health has suffered, and change of air and place are +necessary to me. You will say, that the climate of Russia is a strange +choice for an invalid: I could indeed have wished for a milder; but in +this world we must be content with the least of two evils. I wish to +have some ostensible reason for going abroad, and this embassy is the +only one that presents itself in an unquestionable shape. Any thing +is better than staying where I am, and as I am. My motives are not so +entirely personal and selfish as I have stated them. A man who has a +grain of feeling cannot endure to see the woman whom he loves, whose +only failing is her love, living in a state of dereliction, exposed to +the silent scorn of her equals and inferiors, if not to open insult. All +her fine talents, every advantage of nature and education sacrificed, +and her sensibility to shame a perpetual source of misery. A man must +be a brute if he do not feel for a woman, whose affection for him has +reduced her to this situation. My delicacy as to female manners, and the +high value I set upon public opinion in all that concerns the sex, make +me peculiarly susceptible and wretched in my present circumstances. To +raise the drooping spirits, and support the self-approbation of a woman, +who is conscious that she has forfeited her claim to respect--to make +love supply the place of all she has sacrificed to love, is a difficult +and exquisitely painful task. My feelings render hers more acute, and +the very precautions which I take, however delicate, alarm and wound her +pride, by reminding her of all she wishes to forget. In this country, no +woman, who is not lost to shame, can bear to live without reputation.--I +pass over a great many intermediate ideas, my dear general; your sense +and feeling will supply them. You see the expediency, the necessity of +my accepting this embassy. Olivia urges, how can I refuse it? She wishes +to accompany me. She made this offer with such decision of spirit, with +such passionate tenderness, as touched me to the very soul. A woman +who really loves, absolutely devotes herself, and becomes insensible to +every difficulty and danger; to her all parts of the world are alike; +all she fears is to be separated from the object of her affections. + +But the very excess of certain passions proves them to be genuine. Even +whilst we blame the rashness of those who act from the enthusiasm of +their natures, whilst we foresee all the perils to which they seem +blind, we tremble at their danger, we grow more and more interested for +them every moment, we admire their courage, we long to snatch them +from their fate, we are irresistibly hurried along with them down the +precipice. + +But why do I say all this to you, my dear general? To no man upon earth +could it be more ineffectually addressed. Let me see you, however, +before we leave England. It would be painful to me to quit this country +without taking leave of you, notwithstanding all that you have lately +done to thwart my inclinations, and notwithstanding all I may expect you +to say when we meet. Probably I shall be detained here some weeks, as +I must wait for instructions from our court. I write this day to Lady +Leonora, to inform her that I am appointed ambassador to Russia. She +shall have all the honours of war; she shall be treated with all the +respect to which she is so well entitled. I suppose she will wish to +reside with her mother during my absence. She cannot do better: she will +then be in the most eligible situation, and I shall be relieved from all +anxiety upon her account. She will be perfectly happy with her mother. I +have often thought that she was much happier before she married me, than +she has been since our union. + +I have some curiosity to know whether she will see the Prince when I am +gone. Do not mistake me; I am not jealous: I have too little love, and +too much esteem for Leonora, to feel the slightest jealousy. I have no +doubt, that if I were to stay in Russia for ten years, and if all the +princes and potentates in Europe were to be at her feet, my wife would +conduct herself with the most edifying propriety: but I am a little +curious to know how far vanity or pride can console a virtuous woman for +the absence of love. + +Yours truly, + +F. L. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LX. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +You are really decided then to go to Russia, my amiable friend, and +you will absolutely undertake this horrible voyage! And you are not +intimidated by the idea of the immense distance between Petersburg and +Paris! Alas! I had hoped soon to see you again. The journey from +my convent to Paris was the longest and most formidable that I ever +undertook, and at this moment it appears to me terrible; you may +conceive therefore my admiration of your courage and strength of mind, +my dear Olivia, who are going to brave the ocean, turning your back on +Paris, and every moment receding from our polished centre of attraction, +to perish perhaps among mountains of ice. Mon Dieu! it makes me shudder +to think of it. But if it please Heaven that you should once arrive at +Petersburg, you will crown your tresses with diamonds, you will envelope +yourself with those superb furs of the north, and smiling at all the +dangers you have passed, you will be yourself a thousand times more +dangerous than they. You, who have lived so long at Paris, who speak our +language in all its shades of elegance; you, who have divined all our +secrets of pleasing, who have caught our very air, + + "Et la grace, encore plus belle que la beaute;" + +you, who are absolutely a French woman, and a Parisian, what a sensation +you will produce at Petersburg!--Quels succes vous attendent!--Quels +hommages! + +You will have the goodness to offer my tenderest sentiments, and the +assurances of my perfect respect, to our dear Princess; you will also +find the proper moment to remind her of the promise she made, to send me +specimens of the fine ermines and sables of her country. For my part, I +used to be, I confess, in a great error with respect to furs: I always +acknowledged them to be rich, but avoided them as heavy; I considered +them as fitter for the stiff magnificence of an Empress of all the +Russias than for the light elegance of a Parisian beauty; but our +charming Princess convinced me that this is a heresy in taste. When I +beheld the grace with which she wore her ermine, and the art with which +she knew how to vary its serpent folds as she moved, or as she spoke, +the variety it gave to her costume and attitudes; the development +it afforded to a fine hand and arm, the resource in the pauses of +conversation, and that soft and attractive air which it seemed to impart +even to the play of her wit, I could no longer refuse my homage to +ermine. Such is the despotism of beauty over all the objects of +taste and fashion; and so it is, that a woman of sense, address, and +sentiment, let her be born or thrown by fate where she may, will always +know how to avail herself of every possible advantage of nature and art. +Nothing will be too trifling or too vast for her genius. + +I must make you understand me, my dear Olivia; your Gabrielle is not so +frivolous as simpletons imagine. Frivolity is an excellent, because +an unsuspected mask, under which serious and important designs may be +safely concealed. I would explain myself further, but must now go to +the opera to see the new ballet. Let me know, my interesting, my sublime +Olivia, when you are positively determined on your voyage to Petersburg; +and then you shall become acquainted with your friend as a politician. +Her friendship for you will not be confined to a mere intercourse of +sentiment, but will, if you have courage to second her views, give you +a secret yet decisive weight and consequence, of which you have hitherto +never dreamed.--Adieu.--These gentlemen are so impatient, I must go. +Burn the last page of this letter, and the whole of my next as soon as +you have read it, I conjure you, my dear. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXI. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +DEAR L----, + +I have time but to write one line to satisfy that philosophical +curiosity, which, according to your injunctions, I will not denominate +jealousy--except when I talk to myself. + +You have a philosophical curiosity to know whether your wife will +see the Prince in your absence. I saw his favourite yesterday, +who complained to me that his highness had been absolutely refused +admittance at your castle, notwithstanding he had made many ingenious, +and some bold attempts, to see Lady Leonora L---- in the absence of her +faithless husband. + +As to your scheme of going to Russia, you will be obliged, luckily, to +wait for some time for instructions, and in the interval, it is to be +hoped you will recover your senses. I shall see you as soon as possible. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXII. + +MADAME DE P---- TO LADY OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +As our vanity always endeavours to establish a balance between our own +perfections and those of our friends, I must flatter myself, my dear +Olivia, that in compensation for that courage and ardent imagination in +which you are so much my superior, I possess some little advantages over +you in my scientific, hereditary knowledge of court intrigue, and of +the arts of representation; all which will be necessary to you in your +character of ambassadress: you will in fact deserve this title, for of +course you will govern the English ambassador, whom you honour with +your love. And of course you will appear with splendour, and you will +be particularly careful to have your _traineau_ well appointed. Pray +remember that one of your horses must gallop, whilst the other trots, or +you are nobody. It will also be absolutely necessary to have a +numerous retinue of servants, because this suits the Russian idea of +magnificence. You must have, as the Russian nobles always had in Paris, +four servants constantly to attend your equipage; one to carry the +flambeau, another to open the door, and a couple to carry you into and +out of your carriage. I beseech you to bear in mind perpetually, that +you are to be as helpless as possible. A Frenchman of my acquaintance, +who spent nine years in Russia, told me, that in his first setting out +at Petersburg, he was put on his guard in this particular by a speech of +his Russian valet-de-chambre:--"Sir, the Englishman you visited to-day +cannot be worthy of your acquaintance; he cannot be a gentleman. Son +valet me dit qu'il se deshabille seul!!!" + +I suppose you take Josephine with you; she will be an inestimable +treasure; and I shall make it my business to send you the first advices +of Paris fashions, which her talents will not fail to comprehend +and execute. My charming Olivia! you will be the model of taste and +elegance! Do not suspect that dress is carrying me away from politics. +I assure you I know what I am about, and am going straight to my object. +The art of attending to trifles is the art of governing the world, as +all historians know, who have gone to the bottom of affairs. Was not the +face of Europe changed by a cup of tea thrown on Mrs. Masham's gown, +as Voltaire, with penetrating genius, remarks? Women, without a +doubt, understand the importance of trifles better than men do, and +consequently always move in secret the slight springs of that vast +machine, the civilized world. Is not your ambition roused, my Olivia? +You must, however, lay aside a little of your romance, and not approach +the political machine whilst you are intoxicated with love, else you +will blunder infallibly, and do infinite and irreparable mischief to +yourself and your friends. + +Permit me to tell you, that you have been a little spoiled by +sentimental novels, which are good only to talk of when one must show +sensibility, but destructive as rules of action. By the false lights +which these writers, who know nothing of the world, have thrown upon +objects, you have been deluded; you have been led to mistake the means +for the end. Love has been with you the sole end of love; whereas it +ought to be the beginning of power. No matter for the past: the future +is yours: at our age this future must be dexterously managed. A woman of +spirit, and, what is better, of sense, must always take care that in her +heart, the age of love is not prolonged beyond the age of being beloved. +In these times a woman has no choice at a certain period but politics, +or bel esprit; for devotion, which used to be a resource, is no longer +in fashion. We must all take a part, my dear; I assure you I have taken +mine decidedly, and I predict that you will take yours with brilliant +success. How often must one cry in the ears of lovers--Love must die! +must die! must die! But you, my dear Olivia, will not be deaf to +the warning voice of common sense. Your own experience has on former +occasions convinced you, that passion cannot be eternal; and at present, +if I mistake not, there is in your love a certain mixture of other +feelings, a certain alloy, which will make it happily ductile and +manageable. When your triumph over the wife is complete, passion for +the husband will insensibly decay; and this will be fortunate for you, +because assuredly your ambassador would not choose to remain all the +rest of his days in love and in exile at Petersburg. All these English +are afflicted with the maladie du pays; and, as you observe so well, the +words home and wife have ridiculous but unconquerable power over their +minds. What will become of you, my friend, when this Mr. L---- chooses +to return to England to his castle, &c.? You could not accompany him. +You must provide in time against this catastrophe, or you will be a +deserted, disgraced, undone woman, my dear friend. + +No one should begin to act a romance who has not well considered the +denouement. It is a charming thing to mount with a friend in a balloon, +amid crowds of spectators, who admire the fine spectacle, and applaud +the courage of the aerostats: the losing sight of this earth, and the +being in or above the clouds, must also be delightful: but the moment +will come when the travellers descend, and then begins the danger; then +they differ about throwing out the ballast, the balloon is rent in the +quarrel, it sinks with frightful rapidity, and they run the hazard, +like the poor Marquis D'Arlande, of being spitted upon the spire of +the Invalides, or of being entangled among woods and briers--at last, +alighting upon the earth, our adventurers, fatigued and bruised and +disappointed, come out of their shattered triumphal car, exposed to the +derision of the changeable multitude. + +Every thing in this world is judged of by success. Your voyage to +Petersburg, my dear Olivia, must not be a mere adventure of romance; as +a party of pleasure it would be ridiculous; we must make something more +of it. Enclosed is a letter to a Russian nobleman, an old lover of mine, +who, I understand, is in favour. He will certainly be at your command. +He is a man possessed by the desire of having reputation among +foreigners, vain of the preference of our sex, generous even to +prodigality. By his means you will be immediately placed on an easy +footing with all the leading persons of the Russian court. You will go +on from one step to another, till you are at the height which I have +in view. Now for my grand object.--No, not now--for I have forty little +notes about nothings to write this morning. Great things hang upon these +nothings, so they should not be neglected. I must leave you, my amiable +Olivia, and defer my grand object till to-morrow. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXIII + +LEONORA TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +DEAR MOTHER, + +This moment I have received a letter from Mr. L----. He has accepted +of an embassy to Petersburg. I cannot guess by the few lines he has +written, whether or not he wishes that I should accompany him. Most +ardently I wish it; but if my offer should be refused, or if it should +be accepted only because it could not be well refused; if I should be a +burthen, a restraint upon him, I should wish myself dead. + +Perhaps he accepts of this embassy on purpose that he may leave me and +take another person with him: or perhaps, dearest mother (I hardly dare +to hope it)--perhaps he wishes to break off that connexion, and goes +to Russia to leave temptation behind him. I know that this embassy was +offered to him some weeks ago, and he had then no thoughts of accepting +it.--Oh that I could see into his heart--that heart which used to be +always open to me! If I could discover what his wishes are, I should +know what mine ought to be. I have thoughts of going to town immediately +to see him; at least I may take leave of him. Do you approve of it? +Write the moment you receive this; but I need not say that, for I am +sure you will do so. Dearest mother, you have prophesied that his heart +will return to me, and on this hope I live. + +Your ever affectionate daughter, + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXIV. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO LEONORA. + + +Yes, my dear, I advise you by all means to go to town, and to see your +husband. Your desire to accompany him to Russia he will know before you +see him, for I have just written and despatched an express to him with +your last letter, and with all those which I have received from you +within these last six months. Leave Mr. L---- time to read them before +he sees you; and do not hurry or fatigue yourself unnecessarily. You +know that an embassy cannot be arranged in two days; therefore travel by +easy journeys: you cannot do otherwise without hazard. Your courage in +offering to undertake this long voyage with your husband is worthy +of you, my beloved daughter. God bless and preserve you! If you go to +Petersburg, let me know in time, that I may see you before you leave +England. I will be at any moment at any place you appoint. + +Your affectionate mother, ----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXV. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO MR. L----. + + +Perhaps this letter may find you at the feet of your mistress. Spare +me, sir, a few moments from your pleasures. You may perhaps expect +reproaches from the mother of your wife; but let me assure you, that +you have none to apprehend. For my daughter's sake, if not for yours, +I would forbear. Never was departing love recalled by the voice of +reproach; you shall not hear it from me, you have not heard it from +Leonora. But mistake not the cause of her forbearance; let it not be +attributed to pusillanimity of temper, or insensibility of heart. + +Enclosed I send you all the letters which my daughter has written to me +from the first day of her acquaintance with Lady Olivia to this hour. +From these you will be enabled to judge of what she has felt for some +months past, and of the actual state of her heart; you will see all the +tenderness and all the strength of her soul. + +It has ever been my fixed opinion, that a wife who loves her husband, +and who has possessed his affections, may reclaim them from the lure of +the most artful of her sex, by persevering kindness, temper, and good +sense, unless indeed her husband be a fool or a libertine. I have +prophesied that my daughter will regain your heart; and upon this +prophecy, to use her own expression, she lives. And even now, when its +accomplishment is far removed, I am so steady in my opinion of her and +of you; so convinced of the uniform result of certain conduct upon the +human mind, that undismayed I repeat my prophecy. + +Were you to remain in this kingdom, I should leave things to their +natural course; I should not interfere so far even as to send you +Leonora's letters: but as you may be separated for years, I think it +necessary now to put into your hands incontrovertible proofs of what she +is, and what she has been. Do not imagine that I am so weak as to expect +that the perusal of these letters will work a sudden change: but it is +fit that, before you leave England, you should know that Leonora is not +a cold, sullen, or offended wife; but one who loves you most tenderly, +most generously; who, concealing the agony of her heart, waits with +resignation for the time when she will be your refuge, and the permanent +blessing of your life. ----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXVI. + +MADAME DE P---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Paris. + +And now, my charming Olivia, raise your fine eyes as high as ambition +can look, and you will perhaps discover my grand object. You do not see +it yet. Look again.--Do you not see the Emperor of Russia? What would +you think of him for a lover? If it were only for novelty's sake, it +would really be pleasant to have a Czar at one's feet. Reign in his +heart, and you in fact seat yourself invisibly on the throne of all the +Russias: thence what a commanding prospect you have of the affairs of +Europe! and how we should govern the world at our ease! The project is +bold, but not impracticable. The ancients represent Cupid riding the +Numidian lion; and why should he not tame the Russian bear? It would +make a pretty design for a vignette. I can engrave as well as La +Pompadour could at least, and anticipating your victory, my charming +Olivia, I will engrave Cupid leading the bear in a chain of flowers. +This shall be my seal. Mon cachet de faveur. + +Courage, my fair politician! You have a difficult task; but the glory +is in proportion to the labour; and those who value power properly, are +paid by its acquisition, for all possible fatigue and hardships. With +your knowledge of our modes, you will be at Petersburg the arbitress +of delights. You have a charming taste and invention for fetes and +spectacles. Teach these people to vary their pleasures. Their monarch +must adore you, if you banish from his presence that most dreadful enemy +of kings, and most obstinate resident of courts, _ennui_. Trust, my +Olivia, neither to your wit, nor your beauty, nor your accomplishments, +but employ your "various arts of trifling prettily," and, take my word +for it, you will succeed. + +As I may not have an opportunity of sending you another private letter, +and as lemon-juice, goulard, and all those sympathetic inks, are subject +to unlucky accidents, I must send you all my secret instructions by the +present safe conveyance. + +You must absolutely sacrifice, my dear child, all your romantic notions, +and all your taste for love, to the grand object. The Czar must not have +the slightest cause for jealousy. These Czars make nothing, you know, of +cutting off their mistresses' pretty heads upon the bare suspicion of +an intrigue. But you must do what is still more difficult than to be +constant, you must yield your will, and, what is more, you must never +let this Czar guess that his will is not always your pleasure. Your +humour, your tastes, your wishes, must be incessantly and with alacrity +sacrificed to his. You must submit to the constraint of eternal court +ceremony, and court dissimulation. You must bear to be surrounded +with masks, instead of the human face divine; and instead of +fellow-creatures, you must content yourself with puppets. You will have +the amusement of pulling the wires: but remember that you must wear +a mask perpetually as well as others, and never attempt to speak, and +never expect to hear the language of truth or of the heart. You must +not be the dupe of attachment in those who call themselves friends, +or zealous and affectionate servants, &c. &c. You must have sufficient +strength of character to bear continually in mind that all these +professions are mere words, that all these people are alike false, +and actuated but by one motive, self-interest. To secure yourself from +secret and open enemies, you must farther have sufficient courage to +live without a friend or a confidante, for such persons at court are +only spies, traitors in the worst forms. All this is melancholy and +provoking, to be sure; but all this you must see without feeling, or +at least without showing a spark of indignation. A sentimental +misanthropist, male or female, is quite out of place at court. You must +see all that is odious and despicable in human nature in a comic point +of view; and you must consider your fellow-creatures as objects to +be laughed at, not to be hated. Laughter, besides being good for the +health, and consequently for the complexion, always implies superiority. +Without this gratification to our vanity, there would be no possibility +of enduring that eternal penance of hypocrisy, and that solitary state +of suspicion, to which the ambitious condemn themselves. I fear, my +romantic Olivia, that you, who are a person used to yield to first +impressions, and not quite accustomed to subdue your passions to your +interest, will think that politics require too much from you, almost as +much as constancy or religion. But consider the difference! for Heaven's +sake, my dear, consider the greatness of our object! Would to God that +I had the eloquence of Bossuet! and I would make you a convert from +love and a proselyte to glory. Dare, my Olivia, to be a martyr to +ambition!--See! already high in air she holds a crown over your head--it +is almost within your grasp--stretch out your white arm and seize +it--fear not the thorns!--every crown has thorns--but who upon that +account ever yet refused one? My dear empress, I have the honour to kiss +your powerful hands. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXVII. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +You need not hurry yourself to come to town on my account, for by this +change of ministry my embassy will be delayed some weeks. + +A few days ago this delay would have been a terrible disappointment to +me; yet now I feel it a respite. A respite! you will exclaim. Yes, my +dear friend--so it is. Such is the heart of man!--so changeable, so +contradictory, so much at variance with itself from day to day, from +hour to hour. I believe, from what I now feel, that every man under +the dominion of passion is reduced to a most absurd and miserable +condition.--I have just been reading some letters from Leonora, which +have wrung my heart; letters addressed to her mother, laying open every +feeling of her mind for some months. My dear friend, what injustice have +I done to this admirable woman! With what tenderness, with what delicacy +has she loved me! while I, mistaking modesty for coldness, fortitude +for indifference, have neglected, injured, and abandoned her! With what +sweetness of temper, with what persevering goodness has she borne with +me, while, intoxicated with passion, I saw every thing in a false point +of view! How often have I satisfied myself with the persuasion, that +she scarcely observed my attachment to Olivia, or beheld it unconcerned, +secure by the absence of love from the pangs of jealousy! How often have +I accused her of insensibility, whilst her heart was in tortures! Olivia +was deceived also, and confirmed me in this cruel error. And all that +time Leonora was defending her rival, and pleading her cause! With what +generosity, with what magnanimity she speaks of Olivia in those letters! +Her confidence was unbounded, her soul above suspicion; to the very last +she doubted and blamed herself--dear, amiable woman! blamed herself for +our faults, for feeling that jealousy, which no wife who loved as she +did could possibly subdue. She never betrayed it by a single word or +look of reproach. Even though she fainted at that cursed fete champetre, +yet the moment she came to her senses, she managed so, that none of +the spectators could suspect she thought Olivia was her rival. My dear +general, you will forgive me--as long as I praise Leonora you will +understand me. At last you will acknowledge that I do justice to the +merits of my wife. Justice! no--I am unworthy of her. I have no heart +like hers to offer in return for such love. She wishes to go with me to +Petersburg; she has forborne to make this offer directly to me; but I +know it from her last letter to her mother, which now lies before me. +How can I refuse?--and how can I accept? My soul is torn with violence +different ways. How can I leave Leonora! and how can I tear myself from +Olivia!--even if her charms had no power over my heart, how could I with +honour desert the woman who has sacrificed every thing for me! I will +not shield myself from you, my friend, behind the word honour. See me +as you have always seen me, without disguise, and now without defence. I +respect, I love Leonora--but, alas! I am in love with Olivia! + +Yours ever, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXVIII. + +MR. L---- TO OLIVIA. + + +Triumphant as you are over my heart, dear enchanting Olivia! you cannot +make me false. I cannot, even to appease your anger, deny this morning +what I said last night. It is inconsistent with all your professions, +with your character, with your generous disposition, to desire me to +"_abjure Leonora for ever!_" it would be to render myself for ever +unworthy of Olivia. I am convinced that had you read the letters of +which I spoke, you would have been touched, you would have been struck +by them as I was: instead of being hurt and displeased by the impression +that they made upon me, you would have sympathized in my feelings, you +would have been indignant if I had not admired, you would have detested +and despised me if I could have been insensible to "_so much goodness +and generosity_." I repeat my words: I will not "_retract_," I cannot +"_repent of them_." My dear Olivia! when you reflect upon what is past, +I am persuaded you will acknowledge that your sensibility made you +unjust. Indeed, my love, you did not show your usual candour; I had just +read all that Leonora had written of you, all that she had urged against +her mother in your defence; even when she had most cause to be irritated +against us, I could not avoid being shocked by the different manner in +which you spoke of her. Perhaps I told you so too abruptly: if I had +loved you less, I should have been more cautious and more calm--if I had +esteemed you less, calmer still. I could then, possibly, have borne to +hear you speak in a manner unbecoming yourself. Forgive me the pain I +gave you--the pain I now give you, my dearest Olivia! My sincerity is +the best security you can have for my future love. Banish therefore this +unjust, this causeless jealousy: moderate this excessive sensibility for +both our sakes, and depend upon the power you have over my heart. You +cannot conceive how much I have felt from this misunderstanding--the +first we have ever had. Let it be the last. I have spent a sleepless +night. I am detained in town by provoking, tiresome, but necessary +business. Meet me in the evening with smiles, my Olivia: let me behold +in those fascinating eyes their wonted expression, and hear from your +voice its usual, its natural tone of tenderness and love. + +Ever devotedly yours, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXIX. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +You have spoken daggers to me! Come not to Richmond this evening! I +cannot--will not see you! Not for the universe would I see you with my +present feelings! + +Write to me more letters like that which I have just received. Dip your +pen in gall; find words more bitter than those which you have already +used. Accuse me of want of candour, want of generosity, want of every +amiable, every estimable quality. Upbraid me with the loss of all of +which you have bereft me. Recollect every sacrifice that I have made, +and, if you can, imagine every sacrifice that I would still make for +you--peace of mind, friends, country, fortune, fame, virtue; name them +all, and triumph--and disdain your triumph! Remind me how low I am +fallen--sink me lower still--insult, debase, humble me to the dust. +Exalt my rival, unroll to my aching eyes the emblazoned catalogue of +her merits, her claims to your esteem, your affection; number them +over, dwell upon those that I have forfeited, those which can never be +regained; tell me that such merits are above all price; assure me that +beyond all her sex you respect, you admire, you love your wife; say it +with enthusiasm, with fire in your eyes, with all the energy of passion +in your voice; then bid me sympathize in your feelings--bid me banish +jealousy--wonder at my alarm--call my sorrow anger--conjure me to +restrain my sensibility! Restrain my sensibility! Unhappy Olivia! he is +tired of your love. Let him then at once tell me the dreadful truth, +and I will bear it. Any evil is better than uncertainty, than lingering +hope. Drive all hope from my mind. Bid me despair and die--but do not +stretch me on the rack of jealousy!--Yet if such be your cruel pleasure, +enjoy it.--Determine how much I can endure and live. Stop just at the +point where human nature sinks, that you may not lose your victim, that +she may linger on from day to day, your sport and your derision. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXX. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +My Dear General, + +You will rejoice to hear that Olivia and I have been in a state of +warfare for some days past, and you will be still more pleased when +you learn the cause of our quarrel. On the day that I had been reading +Leonora's letters I was rather later at Richmond than usual. Olivia, +offended, insisted upon knowing by what I could possibly have been +detained. Her anger knew no bounds when she heard the truth. She made +use of some expressions, in speaking of my wife, which I could not, I +hope, have borne at any time, but which shocked me beyond measure at +that moment. I defended Leonora with warmth. Olivia, in a scornful tone, +talked of my wife's coldness of disposition, and bid me compare Lady +Leonora's love with hers. It was a comparison I had it more in my power +to make than Olivia was aware of; it was the most disadvantageous moment +for her in which that comparison could be made. She saw or suspected +my feelings, and perceived that all she had said of my Leonora's +_incapability of loving_ produced an effect directly contrary to +her expectations. Transported by jealousy, she then threw out hints +respecting the Prince. I spoke as I felt, indignantly. I know not +precisely what I said, but Olivia and I parted in anger. I have since +received a passionately fond note from her. But I feel unhappy. Dear +general, when will you come to town? + +Yours truly, + +F. L---- + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXI. + +MRS. C---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, + +Your grace's cautions and entreaties to Lady Leonora not to over-exert +and fatigue herself were, alas! as ineffectual as mine. From the time +she heard that Mr. L---- had accepted this embassy to Petersburg, she +was so eager to set out on her journey to town, and so impatient to see +him, that neither her mind nor her body had one moment's tranquillity. +She waited with indescribable anxiety for your grace's answer to her +letter; and the instant she was secure of your approbation, her carriage +was ordered to the door. I saw that she was ill; but she would not +listen to my fears; she repeated with triumph, that her mother made no +objection to her journey, and that she had no apprehensions for herself. +However, she was obliged at last to yield. The carriage was actually at +the door, when she was forced to submit to be carried to her bed. For +several hours she was in such danger, that I never expected she could +live till this day. Thank God! she is now safe. Her infant, to her great +delight, is a boy: she was extremely anxious to have a son, because Mr. +L---- formerly wished for one so much. She forbids me to write to Mr. +L----, lest I should communicate the account of her _sudden illness_ too +abruptly. + +She particularly requests that your grace will mention to him this +_accident_ in the least alarming manner possible. I shall write again +next post. Lady Leonora has now fallen asleep, and seems to sleep +quietly. Who should sleep in peace if she cannot? I never saw her equal, + +My dear madam, + +I am, + +With respect and attachment, + +Your grace's + +Sincerely affectionate, + +HELEN C----. + +It is with extreme concern I am forced to add, that since I wrote this +letter the child has been so ill that I have fears for his life.--His +poor mother! + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXII. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +MY DEAR GENERAL, + +All is upon velvet again. Poor Olivia was excessively hurt by my letter: +she was ill for two days--seriously ill. Yesterday I at length obtained +admittance. Olivia was all softness, all candour: she acknowledged that +she had been wrong, and in so sweet a voice! She blamed herself till +I could no longer think her blamable. She seemed so much humbled and +depressed, such a tender melancholy appeared in her bewitching eyes, +that I could not resist the fascination. I certainly gave her some +cause for displeasure that unfortunate evening; for as Olivia has strong +passions and exquisite sensibility, I should not have been so abrupt. +A fit of jealousy may seize the best and most generous mind, and +may prompt to what it would be incapable of saying or thinking in +dispassionate moments. I am sure that Olivia has, upon reflection, felt +more pain from this affair than I have. My Russian embassy is still in +_abeyance_. Ministers seem to know their own minds as little as I know +mine. Ambition has its quarrels and follies as well as love. At all +events, I shall not leave England till next month; and I shall not go +down to L---- Castle till I have received my last instructions from +our court, and till the day for my sailing is fixed. The parting with +Leonora will be a dreadful difficulty. I cannot think of it steadily. +But as she herself says, "is it not better that she should lose a year +of my affections than a life?" The Duchess is mistaken in imagining +it possible that any woman, let her influence be ever so great over my +heart, could prejudice me against my amiable, my admirable wife. +What has just passed between Olivia and me, convinces me that it is +impossible. She has too much knowledge of my character to hazard in +future a similar attempt. No, my dear friend, be assured I would not +suffer it. I have not yet lost all title to your esteem or to my own. +This enchantress may intoxicate me with her cup, but shall never degrade +me; and I should feel myself less degraded even by losing the human form +than by forfeiting that principle of honour and virtue, which more nobly +distinguishes man from brute. + +Yours most sincerely, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXIII. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +MY DEAR FRIEND, + +It is well that I did not answer your letter of Saturday before I +received that of Monday. My congratulations upon your quarrel with +your fair one might have come just as you were kissing hands upon a +reconciliation. + +I have often found a great convenience in writing a bad hand; my letters +are so little like what they are intended for, and have among them such +equality of unintelligibility, that each seems either; and with the +slightest alteration, each will stand and serve for the other. My _m_, +_n_, and _u_, are convertible letters; so are the terms and propositions +of your present mode of reasoning, my dear L----, and I perceive +that you find your account in it. Upon this I congratulate you; and I +congratulate Lady Leonora upon your being detained some weeks longer in +England. Those who have a just cause need never pray for victory; they +need only ask the gods for time. Time always brings victory to truth, +and shame to falsehood. But you are not worthy of such fine apophthegms. +At present "you are not fit to hear yourself convinced." I will wait for +a better opportunity, and have patience with you, if I can. + +You seem to plume yourself mightily upon your resolve to do justice to +the merits of your wife, and upon the courage you have shown in stuffing +cotton into your ears to prevent your listening to the voice of the +siren: but pray take the cotton out, and hear all she can say or sing. +Lady Leonora cannot be hurt by any thing Olivia can say, but her own +malice may destroy herself. + +In the mean time, as you tell me that you are upon velvet again, I am to +presume that you are perfectly at ease; and I should be obliged to you, +if, as often as you can find leisure, you would send me bulletins +of your happiness. I have never yet been in love with one of these +high-flown heroines, and I am really curious to know what degree of +felicity they can bestow upon a man of common sense. I should be glad to +benefit by the experience of a friend. + +Yours truly, + +J.B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXIV. + +OLIVIA TO MADAME DE P----. + + +Richmond. + +Accept my sincere thanks, inimitable Gabrielle! for having taken off my +hands a lover, who really has half-wearied me to death. If you had dealt +more frankly with me, I could, however, have saved you much superfluous +trouble and artifice. I now perfectly comprehend the cause of poor +R----'s strange silence some months ago; he was then under the influence +of your charms, and it was your pleasure to deceive me even when there +was no necessity for dissimulation. You knew the secret of my growing +attachment to L----, and must have foreseen that R---- would be +burthensome to me. You needed therefore only to have treated me with +candour, and you would have gained a lover without losing a friend: +but Madame de P---- is too accomplished a politician to go the simple +straight road to her object. I now perfectly comprehend why she took +such pains to persuade me that an imperial lover was alone worthy of +my charms. She was alarmed by an imaginary danger. Believe me, I am +incapable of disputing with any one _les restes d'un coeur_. + +Permit me to assure you, madam, that your incomparable talents for +explanation will be utterly thrown away on me in future. I am in +possession of the whole truth, from a person whose information I cannot +doubt: I know the precise date of the commencement of your connexion +with R----, so that you must perceive it will be impracticable to make +me believe that you have not betrayed my easy confidence. + +I cannot, however, without those pangs of sentiment which your heart +will never experience, reflect upon the treachery, the perfidy of one +who has been my bosom friend.--Return my letters, Gabrielle.--With +this you will receive certain _souvenirs_, at which I could never +henceforward look without sighing. I return you that ring I have so long +worn with delight, the picture of that treacherous eye,[1] which you +know so well how to use.--Adieu, Gabrielle.--The illusion is over.--How +many of the illusions of my fond heart have been dispelled by time and +treachery! + +OLIVIA. + +[Footnote 1: Certain ladies at this time carried pictures of the eyes of +their favourites.] + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXV. + +MADAME DE P---- TO MONSIEUR R----. + + +Paris, ---- 18, ----. + +I have just received the most extravagant letter imaginable from your +Olivia. Really you may congratulate yourself, my dear friend, upon +having recovered your liberty. 'Twere better to be a galley slave at +once than to be bound to please a woman for life, who knows not what she +would have either in love or friendship. Can you conceive anything so +absurd as her upbraiding me with treachery, because I know the value +of a heart, of which she tells me she was more than half tired? as if +I were to blame for her falling in love with Mr. L----, and as if I did +not know the whole progress of her inconstancy. Her letters to me give a +new history of the birth and education of Love. Here we see Love born of +Envy, nursed by _Ennui_, and dandled in turn by all the Vices. + +And this Lady Olivia fancies that she is a perfect French woman! There +is nothing we Parisians abhor and ridicule so much as these foreign, and +always awkward, caricatures of our manners. With us there are many who, +according to a delicate distinction, lose their virtue without losing +their taste for virtue; but I flatter myself there are few who resemble +Olivia entirely--who have neither the virtues of a man nor of a woman. +One cannot even say that "her head is the dupe of her heart," since +she has no heart. But enough of such a tiresome and incomprehensible +subject. + +How I overvalued that head, when I thought it could ever be fit for +politics! 'Tis well we did not commit ourselves. You see how prudent +I am, my dear R----, and how much those are mistaken who think that we +women are not fit to be trusted with secrets of state. Love and politics +make the best mixture in the world. Adieu. Victoire summons me to my +toilette. + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXVI. + +MADAME DE P---- TO LADY OLIVIA. + + +Paris,---- 18, ----. + +Really, my dear Olivia, this is too childish. What! make a complaint in +form against me for taking a lover off your hands when you did not know +what to do with him! Do you quarrel in England every time you +change partners in a country dance? But I must be serious; for the +high-sounding words _treachery_ and _perfidy_ are surely sufficient +to make any body grave. Seriously, then, if you are resolved to be +tragical, _et de me faire une scene_, I must submit--console myself, +and, above all things, take care not to be ridiculous. + +Your letters, as you desire it so earnestly, and with so much reason, +shall be returned by the first safe conveyance; but excuse me if I +forbear to restore your _souvenirs_. With us Parisians, this returning +of keepsakes has been out of fashion, since the days of Moliere and _Le +depit amoureux_. + +Adieu, my charming Olivia! I embrace you tenderly, I was going to say; +but I believe, according to your English etiquette, I must now conclude +with + +I have the honour to be, + +Madam, + +Your most obedient, + +Humble servant, + +GABRIELLE DE P----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXVII. + +FROM OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Tuesday morning. + +Come not to Richmond to-day; I am not in spirits to see you, my dearest +L----. Allow me to indulge my melancholy retired from every human eye. + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXVIII. + +FROM LADY OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Tuesday evening. + +"Explain to you the cause of my melancholy "--Vain request!--cruel +as vain! Your ignorance of the cause too well justifies my sad +presentiments. Were our feelings in unison, as once they were, would not +every chord of your heart vibrate responsively to mine? + +With me, love is an absorbing vortex of the soul, into which all other +thoughts, feelings, and ideas are irresistibly impelled; with you, it +is but as the stranger stream that crosses the peaceful lake, and, as it +flows, wakens only the surface of the slumbering waters, communicating +to them but a temporary agitation. With you, my dear, but too +tranquil-minded friend, love is but one amid the vulgar crowd of +pleasures; it concentrates not your ideas, it entrances not your +faculties; it is not, as in my heart, the supreme delight, which renders +all others tasteless, the only blessing which can make life supportable; +the sole, sufficient object of existence. Alas! how cruelly different +is the feeble attachment that I have inspired from that all-powerful +sentiment to which I live a victim! Countless symptoms, by you unheeded, +mark to my love-watchful eye the decline of passion. How often am I +secretly shocked by the cold carelessness of your words and manner! How +often does the sigh burst from my bosom, the tear fall from my eye, +when you have left me at leisure to recall, by memory's torturing power, +instances of your increasing indifference! Seek not to calm my too +well-founded fears. Professions, with all their unmeaning, inanimate +formality, but irritate my anguish. Permit me to indulge, to feed upon +my grief in silence. Ask me no more to explain to you the cause of my +melancholy. Too plainly, alas! I feel it is beyond my utmost power to +endure it. Amiable Werter--divine St. Preux--you would sympathize in my +feelings! Sublime Goethe--all-eloquent Rousseau--you alone could feel as +I do, and you alone could paint my anguish. + +The miserable + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXIX. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +Expect no bulletin of happiness from me, my friend. I find it impossible +to make Olivia happy. She has superior talents, accomplishments, beauty, +grace, all that can attract and fascinate the human heart--that could +triumph over every feeling, every principle that opposed her power: she +lives with the man she loves, and yet she is miserable. + +Rousseau, it has been said, never really loved any woman but his own +Julie; I have lately been tempted to think that Olivia never really +loved any man but St. Preux. Werter, perhaps, and some other German +heroes, might dispute her heart even with St. Preux; but as for me, I +begin to be aware that I am loved only as a feeble resemblance of those +divine originals (to whom, however, my character bears not the slightest +similarity), and I am often indirectly, and sometimes directly, +reproached with my inferiority to imaginary models. But how can a plain +Englishman hope to reach + + "The high sublime of deep absurd?" + +I am continually reviled for not using a romantic language, which I +have never learned; and which, as far as I can judge, is foreign to all +natural feeling. I wish to make Olivia happy. There is nothing I +would not do to satisfy her of my sincerity; but nothing I can do will +suffice. She has a sort of morbid sensibility, which is more alive to +pain than pleasure, more susceptible of jealousy than of love. No +terms are sufficiently strong to convince her of my affection, but +an unguarded word makes her miserable for hours. She requires to be +agitated by violent emotions, though they exhaust her mind, and leave +her spiritless and discontented. In this alternation of rapture and +despair all her time passes. As she says of herself, she has no soul but +for love: she seems to think it a crime against sentiment, to admit of +relief from common occupations or indifferent subjects; with a sort of +superstitious zeal, she excludes all thoughts but those which relate to +one object, and in this spirit of amorous mysticism she actually makes +a penance even of love. I am astonished that her heart can endure this +variety of self-inflicted torments. What will become of Olivia when she +ceases to love and be loved? And what passion can be durable which is +so violent as hers, and to which no respite is allowed? No affection can +sustain these hourly trials of suspicion and reproach. + +Jealousy of Leonora has taken such possession of Olivia's imagination, +that she misinterprets all my words and actions. By restraining my +thoughts, by throwing obstacles in the way of my affection for my wife, +she stimulates and increases it: she forces upon me continually those +comparisons which she dreads. Till I knew Olivia more intimately +than the common forms of a first acquaintance, or the illusions of a +treacherous passion permitted, her defects did not appear; but now that +I suffer, and that I see her suffer daily, I deplore them bitterly. Her +happiness rests and weighs heavily on my honour. I feel myself bound +to consider and to provide for the happiness of the woman who has +sacrificed to me all independent means of felicity. A man without honour +or humanity may perhaps finish an intrigue as easily as he can begin it, +but this is not exactly the case of your imprudent friend, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXX. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +Wednesday. + +AY, ay! just as I thought it would be. This is all the comfort, my dear +friend, that I can give you; all the comfort that wise people usually +afford their friends in distress. Provided things happen just as they +predicted, they care but little what is suffered in the accomplishment +of their prophecies. But seriously, my dear L----, I am not sorry that +you are in a course of vexation. The more you see of your charmer the +better. She will allay your intoxication by gentle degrees, and send you +sober home. Pray keep in the course you have begun, and preserve your +patience as long as possible. I should be sorry that you and Olivia +quarrelled violently, and parted in a passion: such quarrels of lovers +are proverbially the renewal of love. + + "Il faut delier l'amitie, il faut couper l'amour." + +In some cases this maxim may be just, but not in the present instance. I +would rather wait till the knot is untied than cut it; for when once +you see the art with which it was woven, a similar knot can never again +perplex you. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXI. + +FROM OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Richmond, Saturday. + +You presume too much upon your power over my heart, and upon the +softness of my nature. Know that I have spirit as well as tenderness--a +spirit that will neither be injured nor insulted with impunity. You were +amazed, you say, by the violence which I showed yesterday. Why did you +provoke that violence by opposing the warmest wish of my heart, and with +a calmness that excited my tenfold indignation? Imagine not that I am +a tame, subjugated female, to be treated with neglect if I remonstrate, +and caressed as the price of obedience. Fancy not that I am one of your +chimney-corner, household goddesses, doomed to the dull uniformity of +domestic worship, destined to to be adored, to be hung with garlands, +or undeified or degraded with indignity! I have been accustomed to a +different species of worship; and the fondness of my weak heart has not +yet sunk me so low, and rendered me so abject, that I cannot assert my +rights. You tell me that you are unconscious of giving me any just cause +of offence. Just cause!--How I hate the cold accuracy of your words! +This single expression is sufficient offence to a heart like mine. You +entreat me to be reasonable. Reasonable!--did ever man talk of reason to +a woman he loved? When once a man has recourse to reason and precision, +there is an end of love. No just cause of offence!--What, have I no +cause to be indignant, when I find you thus trifle with my feelings, +postpone from week to week, and month to month, our departure from this +hateful country-- + + "Bid me hope on from day to day, + And wish and wish my soul away!" + +Yes, you know it to be the most ardent wish of my soul to leave England; +you know that I cannot enjoy a moment's peace of mind whilst I am here; +yet in this racking suspense it is your pleasure to detain me. No, it +shall not be--this shall not go on! It is in vain you tell me that the +delay originates not with you, that you must wait for instructions, and +I know not what--paltry diplomatic excuses! + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXII. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +Richmond. + +Amuse yourself, my good general, at my expense; I know that you are +seriously interested for my happiness; but the way is not quite so clear +before me as you imagine. It is extremely easy to be philosophic for +our friends; but difficult to be so for ourselves when our passions are +concerned. Indeed, this would be a contradiction in terms; you might as +well talk of a cold sun, or of hot ice, as of a philosopher falling in +love, or of a man in love being a philosopher. You say that Olivia will +wear out my passion, and that her defects will undo the work of her +charms. I acknowledge that she sometimes ravels the web she has woven; +but she is miraculously expeditious and skilful in repairing the +mischief: the magical tissue again appears firm as ever, glowing with +brighter colours, and exhibiting finer forms. + +In plain prose, my dear friend--for as you ate not in love, you will +find it difficult to follow my poetic nights--in plain prose, I must +confess that Olivia has the power to charm and touch my heart, even +after she has provoked me to the utmost verge of human patience. She +knows her power, and I am afraid this tempts her to abuse it. Her +temper, which formerly appeared to me all feminine gentleness, is now +irritable and violent; but I am persuaded that this is not her natural +disposition; it is the effect of her present unhappy state of mind. +Tortured by remorse and jealousy, if in the height of their paroxysms, +Olivia make me suffer from their fury, is it for me to complain? I, who +caused, should at least endure the evil. + +Every thing is arranged for my embassy, and the day is fixed for our +leaving England. I go down to L---- Castle next week. + +Your faithful + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXIII. + +JOSEPHINE TO VICTOIRE, MAD. DE P----'s WOMAN. + + +Richmond. + +I am in despair, dear Victoire; and unless your genius can assist me, +absolutely undone! Here is this romantic lady of mine determined upon +a journey to Russia with her new English lover. What whims ladies take +into their heads, and how impossible it is to make them understand +reason! I have been labouring in vain to convince my Lady Olivia that +this is the most absurd scheme imaginable: and I have repeated to +her all I learnt from Lady F----'s women, who are just returned from +Petersburg, and whom I met at a party last night, all declaring they +would rather die a thousand deaths, than go through again what they have +endured. Such seas of ice! such going in sledges! such barbarians! such +beds! and scarcely a looking-glass! And nothing fit to wear but what one +carries with one, and God knows how long we may stay. At Petersburg the +coachmen's ears are frozen off every night on their boxes waiting for +their ladies. And there are bears and wild beasts, I am told, howling +with their mouths wide open night and day in the forests which we are to +pass through; and even in the towns, the men, I hear, are little better; +for it is the law of the country for the men to beat their wives, and +many wear long beards. How horrid!--My Lady F----'s woman, who is a +Parisian born, and very pretty, if her eyes were not so small, and +better dressed than her lady always, except diamonds, assures me, upon +her honour, she never had a civil thing said to her whilst she was in +Russia, except by one or two Frenchmen in the suite of the ambassadors. + +These Russians think of nothing but drinking brandy, and they put pepper +into it! Mon Dieu, what savages! Put pepper into brandy! But that is +inconceivable! Positively, I will never go to Petersburg. And yet if +my lady goes, what will become of me? for you know my sentiments for +Brunel, and he is decided to accompany my lady, so I cannot stay behind. + +But absolutely I am shocked at this intrigue with Mr. L----, and my +conscience reproaches me terribly with being a party concerned in it; +for in this country an affair of gallantry between married people is not +so light a thing as with us. Here wives sometimes love their husbands +seriously, as if they were their lovers; and my Lady Leonora L---- is +one of this sort of wives. She is very unhappy, I am told. One day at +L----Castle, I assure you my heart quite bled for her, when she gave me +a beautiful gown of English muslin, little suspecting me then to be her +enemy. She is certainly very unsuspicious, and very amiable, and I wish +to Heaven her husband would think as I do, and take her with him to +Petersburg, instead of carrying off my Lady Olivia and me! Adieu, mon +chou! Embrace every body I know, tenderly, for me. + +Josephine. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXIV. + +MRS. C---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, + +I believe, when I wrote last to your grace, I said that I had no hopes +of the child's life. From the moment of his birth there was but little +probability of his being any thing but a source of misery to his mother. +I cannot, on her account, regret that the struggle is over. He expired +this morning. My poor friend had hopes to the last, though I had none; +and it was most painful and alarming to see the feverish anxiety with +which she watched over her little boy, frequently repeating, "Mr. L---- +used to wish so much for a son.--I hope the boy will live to see his +father." + +Last night, partly by persuasion, partly by compulsion, I prevailed with +her to let the child be taken out of her room. This morning, as soon as +it was light, I heard her bell ring; the poor little thing was at that +moment in convulsions; and knowing that Lady Leonora rang to inquire for +it, I went to prepare her mind for what I knew must be the event. The +moment I came into the room she looked eagerly in my face, but did not +ask me any questions about the child. I sat down by the side of her bed; +but without listening to what I said about her own health, she rang her +bell again more violently than before. Susan came in. "Susan!--without +my child!"--said she, starting up. Susan hesitated, but I saw by her +countenance that it was all over--so did Lady Leonora. She said not a +word, but drawing her curtain suddenly, she lay down, and never spoke or +stirred for three hours. The first words she said afterwards were to me: + +"You need not move so softly, my dear Helen; I am not asleep. Have you +my mother's last letter? I think my mother says that she will be here +to-morrow? She is very kind to come to me. Will you be so good as to +write to her immediately, and send a servant with your letter as soon +as you can to meet her on the road, that she may not be _surprised_ when +she arrives?" + +Lady Leonora is now more composed and more like herself than she has +been for some time past. I rejoice that your Grace will so soon be here, +because you will be her best possible consolation; and I do not know any +other person in the world who could have sufficient influence to prevent +her from attempting to set out upon a journey before she can travel +with safety. To do her justice, she has not hinted that such were her +intentions; but still I know her mind so well, that I am certain what +her thoughts are, and what her actions would be. Most ladies talk more +than they act, but Leonora acts more decidedly than she talks. + +Believe, me, dear madam, + +With much respect, + +Your Grace's + +Sincerely affectionate + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXV. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +I thank you, my excellent friend, for the kindness of your last letter +[1], which came to me at the time I wanted it most. In the whole course +of my life, I never felt so much self-reproach, as I have done since I +heard of the illness of Leonora and the loss of my son. From this blow +my mind will not easily recover. Of all torments self-reproach is the +worst. And even now I cannot follow the dictates of my own heart, and of +my better judgment. + +In Olivia's company I am compelled to repress my feelings; she cannot +sympathize in them; they offend her: she is dissatisfied even with my +silence, and complains of my being out of spirits. Out of spirits!--How +can I be otherwise at present? Has Olivia no touch of pity for a woman +who was once her friend, who always treated her with generous kindness? +But perhaps I am a little unreasonable, and expect too much from female +nature. + +At all events, I wish that Olivia would spare me at this moment her +sentimental metaphysics. She is for ever attempting to prove to me that +I cannot love so well as she can. I admit that I cannot talk of love so +finely. I hope all this will not go on when we arrive at Petersburg. + +The ministry at last know their own minds. I saw ---- to-day, and every +thing will be quickly arranged; therefore, my dear friend, do not delay +coming to town, to + +Your obliged + +F. L----. + +[Footnote 1: This letter does not appear.] + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXVI. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +Perhaps you are a _little_ unreasonable! Indeed, my dear friend, I do +not think you a _little_ unreasonable, but very nearly stark mad. What! +quarrel with your mistress because she is not sorry that your wife is +ill, and because she cannot sympathize in your grief for the loss of +your son! Where, except perhaps in absurd novels, did you ever meet with +these paragons of mistresses, who were so magnanimous and so generous as +to sacrifice their own reputations, and then be satisfied to share the +only possible good remaining to them in life, the heart of their lover, +with a rival more estimable, more amiable than themselves, and who has +the advantage of being a wife? This sharing of hearts, this union of +souls, with this opposition of interests--this metaphysical gallantry +is absolute nonsense, and all who try it in real life will find it so +to their cost. Why should you, my dear L----, expect such superlative +excellence from your Olivia? Do you think that a woman by losing one +virtue increases the strength of those that remain, as it is said that +the loss of one of our senses renders all the others more acute? Do you +think that a lady, by yielding to love, and by proving that she has not +sufficient resolution or forbearance to preserve the honour of her sex, +gives the best possible demonstration of her having sufficient strength +of character to rise superior to all the other weaknesses incident +to human, and more especially to female nature--envy and jealousy for +instance? + +No, no, my good friend, you have common sense, though you lately have +been sparing of it in action. You had a wife, and a good wife, and you +had some chance of being happy; but with a wife and a mistress, granting +them to be both the best of their kind, the probabilities are rather +against you. I speak only as a man of the world: morality, you know, +is now merely an affair of calculation. According to the most approved +tables of happiness, you have made a bad bargain. But be just, at any +rate, and do not blame your Olivia for the inconveniences and evils +inseparable from the species of connexion that you have been pleased to +form. Do you expect the whole course of society and the nature of the +human heart to change for your special accommodation? Do you believe in +truth by wholesale, and yet in detail expect a happy exception in your +own favour?--Seriously, my dear friend, you must either break off this +connexion, or bear it. I shall see you in a few days. + +Yours truly, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXVII. + +MRS C---- TO MISS B---- + + +L---- Castle. + +Leonora has recovered her strength surprisingly. She was so determined +to be well, that her body dared not contradict her mind. Her excellent +mother has been of the greatest possible service to us, for she has had +sufficient influence to prevent her daughter from exerting herself too +much. Her Grace had a letter from Mr. L---- to-day--very short, but very +kind--at least all that I heard read of it. He has set my heart somewhat +more at ease by the comfortable assurance, that he will not leave +England without seeing Lady Leonora. I have the greatest hopes from this +interview! I have not felt so happy for many months--but I will not +be too sanguine. Mr. L---- talks of being here the latter end of this +month. The duchess, with her usual prudence, intends to leave her +daughter before that time, lest Mr. L----should be constrained by her +presence, or should imagine that Leonora acts from any impulse but that +of her own heart. I also, though much against my inclination, shall +decamp; for he might perhaps consider me as an adviser, caballer, +confidante, or at least a troublesome spectator. All reconciliation +scenes should be without spectators. Men do not like to be seen on their +knees: they are at a loss, like Sir Walter Raleigh in "The Critic;" they +cannot get off gracefully. I am, dear Margaret, + +Yours affectionately, + +HELEN C----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXVIII. + +GENERAL B---- TO MR. L----. + + +MY DEAR L----, Friday. + +Ask yourself, in the name of common sense, why you should go to +Petersburg with this sentimental coquette, this romantic termagant, of +whom I see you are already more than half tired. As to your being bound +to her in honour, I cannot see how. Why should you make honour, justice, +humanity, and gratitude, plead so finely all on one side, and that the +wrong side of the question? Have none of these one word to whisper in +favour of any body in this world but of a worthless mistress, who makes +you miserable? I think you have learned from your heroine to be so +expert in sentimental logic, that you can change virtues into vices, and +vices into virtues, till at last you do not know them asunder. Else why +should you make it a point of conscience to abandon your wife--just at +the moment, too, when you are thoroughly convinced of her love for you, +when you are touched to the soul by her generous conduct, and when your +heart longs to return to her? + +Please to remember that this Lady Olivia's reputation was not +unimpeached before her acquaintance with you, and do not take more glory +or more blame to yourself than properly falls to your share. Do not +forget that _poor_ R---- was your predecessor, and do not let this +delicate lady rest all the weight of her shame upon you, as certain +Chinese culprits rest their portable pillories on the shoulders of their +friends. + +In two days I shall follow this letter, and repeat in person all the +interrogatories I have just put to you, my dear friend. Prepare yourself +to answer me sincerely such questions as I shall ask. + +Yours truly, + +J.B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER LXXXIX. + +FROM OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Monday, 12 o'clock. + +For a few days did you say? To _bid adieu_? Oh! if once more you return +to that fatal castle, that enchanted home, Olivia for ever loses all +power over your heart. Bid her die, stab her to the heart, and she will +call it mercy, and she will bless you with her dying lips; but talk +not of leaving your Olivia! On her knees she writes this, her face all +bathed in tears. And must she in her turn implore and supplicate? Must +she abase herself even to the dust? Yes--love like hers vanquishes even +the stubborn potency of female pride. + +Your too fond + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XC. + +FROM OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +[Dated a few hours after the preceding.] + +Monday, half-past three. + +Oh! this equivocating answer to my fond heart! Passion makes and admits +of no compromise. Be mine, and wholly mine--or never, never will I +survive your desertion! I can be happy only whilst I love; I can love +only whilst I am beloved with fervency equal to my own; and when I cease +to love, I cease to exist! No coward fears restrain my soul. The word +suicide shocks not my ear, appals not my understanding. Death I consider +but as the eternal rest of the wretched--the sweet, the sole refuge of +despair. + +Your resolute + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCI. + +FROM OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Tuesday. + +Return! return! on the wings of love return to the calm, the prudent, +the happy, the transcendently happy Leonora! Return--but not to bid her +adieu--return to be hers for ever, and only hers. I give you back your +faith--I _give_ you back your promises--you have _taken_ back your +heart. + +But if you should desire once more to see Olivia, if you should have +any lingering wish to bid her a last adieu, it must be this evening. +To-morrow's sun rises not for Olivia. For her but a few short hours +remain. Love, let them be all thy own! Intoxicate thy victim, mingle +pleasure in the cup of death, and bid her fearless quaff it to the +dregs!-- + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCII. + +MR. L---- TO GENERAL B----. + + +Thursday. + +My Dear Friend, + +You have by argument and raillery, and by every means that kindness and +goodness could devise, endeavoured to expel from my mind a passion which +you justly foresaw would be destructive of my happiness, and of the +peace of a most estimable and amiable woman. With all the skill that +a thorough knowledge of human nature in general, and of my peculiar +character and foibles, could bestow, you have employed those + + --"Words and spells which can control, + Between the fits, the fever of the soul." + +Circumstances have operated in conjunction with your skill to "medicine +me to repose." The fits have gradually become weaker and weaker, the +fever is now gone, but I am still to suffer for the extravagances +committed during its delirium. I have entered into engagements which +must be fulfilled; I have involved myself in difficulties from which I +see no method of extricating myself honourably. Notwithstanding all the +latitude which the system of modern gallantry allows to the conscience +of our sex, and in spite of the convenient maxim, which maintains that +all arts are allowable in love and war, I think that a man cannot break +a promise, whether made in words or by tacit implication, on the faith +of which a woman sacrifices her reputation and happiness. Lady Olivia +has thrown herself upon my protection. I am as sensible as you can be, +my dear general, that scandal had attacked her reputation before our +acquaintance commenced; but though the world had suspicions, they had no +proofs: now there can be no longer any defence made for her character, +there is no possibility of her returning to that rank in society to +which she was entitled by her birth, and which she adorned with all the +brilliant charms of wit and beauty; no happiness, no chance of happiness +remains for her but from my constancy. Of naturally violent passions, +unused to the control of authority, habit, reason, or religion, and +at this time impelled by love and jealousy, Olivia is on the brink of +despair. I am not apt to believe that women die in modern times for +love, nor am I easily disposed to think that I could inspire a dangerous +degree of enthusiasm; yet I am persuaded that Olivia's passion, +compounded as it is of various sentiments besides love, has taken such +possession of her imagination, and is, as she fancies, so necessary to +her existence, that if I were to abandon her, she would destroy that +life, which she has already attempted, I thank God! ineffectually. What +a spectacle is a woman in a paroxysm of rage!--a woman we love, or whom +we have loved! + + * * * * * + +Excuse me, my dear friend, if I wrote incoherently, for I have been +interrupted many times since I began this letter. I am this day +overwhelmed by a multiplicity of affairs, which, in consequence of +Olivia's urgency to leave England immediately, must be settled with an +expedition for which my head is not at present well qualified. I do not +feel well: I can command my attention but on one subject, and on that +all my thoughts are to no purpose. Whichever way I now act, I must +endure and inflict misery. I must either part from a wife who has given +me the most tender, the most touching proofs of affection--a wife who +is all that a man can esteem, admire, and love; or I must abandon a +mistress, who loves me with all the desperation of passion to which she +would fall a sacrifice. But why do I talk as if I were still at liberty +to make a choice?--My head is certainly very confused. I forgot that I +am bound by a solemn promise, and this is the evil which distracts me. I +will give you, if I can, a clear narrative. + +Last night I had a terrible scene with Olivia. I foresaw that she would +be alarmed by my intended visit to L---- Castle, even though it was but +to take leave of my Leonora. I abstained from seeing Olivia to avoid +altercation, and with all the delicacy in my power I wrote to her, +assuring her that my resolution was fixed. Note after note came from +her, with pathetic and passionate appeals to my heart; but I was still +resolute. At length, the day before that on which I was to set out for +L---- Castle, she wrote to warn me, that if I wished to take a last +farewell, I must see her that evening: her note concluded with, +"To-morrow's sun will not rise for Olivia." This threat, and many +strange hints of her opinions concerning suicide, I at the time +disregarded, as only thrown out to intimidate a lover. However, knowing +the violence of Olivia's temper, I was punctual to the appointed hour, +fully determined by my firmness to convince her that these female wiles +were vain. + +My dear friend, I would not advise the wisest man and the most +courageous upon earth to risk such dangers, confident in his strength. +Even a victory may cost him too dear. + +I found Olivia reclining on a sofa, her beautiful tresses unbound, her +dress the perfection of elegant negligence. I half suspected that it +was studied negligence: yet I could not help pausing, as I entered, to +contemplate a figure. She never looked more beautiful--more fascinating. +Holding out her hand to me, she said, with her languid smile, and tender +expression of voice and manner, "You _are_ come then to bid me farewell. +I doubted whether... But I will not upbraid--mine be all the pain of +this last adieu. During the few minutes we have to pass together, + + "'Between us two let there be peace.'" + +I sat down beside her, rather agitated, I confess, but commanding myself +so that my emotion could not be visible. In a composed tone I asked, why +she spoke of a last adieu? and observed that we should meet again in a +few days. + +"Never!" replied Olivia. "Weak woman as I am, love inspires me with +sufficient force to make and to keep this resolution." + +As she spoke, she took from her bosom a rose, and presenting it to me +in a solemn manner, "Put this rose into water to-night," continued she; +"to-morrow it will be alive!" + +Her look, her expressive eyes, seemed to say, this flower will be alive, +but Olivia will be dead. I am ashamed to confess that I was silent, +because I could not just then speak. + +"I have used some precaution," resumed Olivia, "to spare you, my dearest +L----, unnecessary pain.--Look around you." + +The room, I now for the first time observed, was ornamented with +flowers. + +"This apartment, I hope," continued she, "has not the air of the chamber +of death. I have endeavoured to give it a festive appearance, that the +remembrance of your last interview with your once loved Olivia may be at +least unmixed with horror." + +At this instant, my dear general, a confused recollection of Rousseau's +Heloise, the dying scene, and her room ornamented with flowers, came +into my imagination, and destroying the idea of reality, changed +suddenly the whole course of my feelings. + +In a tone of raillery I represented to Olivia her resemblance to Julie, +and observed that it was a pity she had not a lover whose temper was +more similar than mine to that of the divine St. Preux. Stung to the +heart by my ill-timed raillery, Olivia started up from the sofa, broke +from my arms with sudden force, snatched from the table a penknife, and +plunged it into her side. + +She was about to repeat the blow, but I caught her arm--she +struggled--"promise me, then," cried she, "that you will never more see +my hated rival." + +"I cannot make such a promise, Olivia," said I, holding her uplifted arm +forcibly. "I will not." + +The words "hated rival," which showed me that Olivia was actuated more +by the spirit of hatred than love, made me reply in as decided a tone +as even you could have spoken, my dear general. But I was shocked, and +reproached myself with cruelty, when I saw the blood flow from her side: +she was terrified. I took the knife from her powerless hand, and she +fainted in my arms. I had sufficient presence of mind to reflect that +what had happened should be kept as secret as possible; therefore, +without summoning Josephine, whose attachment to her mistress I have +reason to suspect, I threw open the windows, gave Olivia air and water, +and her senses returned: then I despatched my Swiss for a surgeon. I +need not speak of my own feelings--no suspense could be more dreadful +than that which I endured between the sending for the surgeon and the +moment when he gave his opinion. He relieved me at once, by pronouncing +it to be a slight flesh wound, that would be of no manner of +consequence. Olivia, however, whether from alarm or pain, or from the +sight of the blood, fainted three times during the dressing of her side; +and though the surgeon assured her that it would be perfectly well in a +few days, she was evidently apprehensive that we concealed from her +the real danger. At the idea of the approach of death, which now took +possession of her imagination, all courage forsook her, and for some +time my efforts to support her spirits were ineffectual. She could not +dispense with the services of Josephine; and from the moment this French +woman entered the room, there was nothing to be heard but exclamations +the most violent and noisy. As to assistance, she could give none. +At last her exaggerated demonstrations of horror and grief ended +with,--"Dieu merci! an moins nous voila delivres de ce voyage affreux. +Apparemment qu'il ne sera plus question de ce vilain Petersburg pour +madame." + +A new train of thoughts was roused by these words in Olivia's mind; and +looking at me, she eagerly inquired why the journey to Petersburg was to +be given up, if she was in no danger? I assured her that Josephine spoke +at random, that my intentions with regard to the embassy to Russia were +unaltered. + +"Seulement retarde un peu," said Josephine, who was intent only upon her +own selfish object.--"Surement, madame ne voyagera pas dans cet etat!" + +Olivia started up, and looking at me with terrific wildness in her eyes, +"Swear to me," said she, "swear that you will not deceive me, or I +will this instant tear open this wound, and never more suffer it to be +closed." + +"Deceive you, Olivia!" cried I, "what deceit can you fear from me?--What +is it you require of me?" + +"I require from you a promise, a solemn promise, that you will go with +_me_ to Russia!" + +"I solemnly promise that I will," said I: "now be tranquil, Olivia, I +beseech you." + +The surgeon represented the necessity of keeping herself quiet, and +declared that he would not answer for the cure of his patient on any +other terms. Satisfied by the solemnity of my promise, Olivia now +suffered me to depart. This morning she sends me word that in a few days +she shall be ready to leave England. Can you meet me, my dear friend, +at L---- Castle? I go down there to-day, to bid adieu to Leonora. From +thence I shall proceed to Yarmouth, and embark immediately. Olivia will +follow me. + +Your obliged + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCIII. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +L---- Castle + +Dearest Mother, + +My husband is here! at home with me, with your happy Leonora--and his +heart is with her. His looks, his voice, his manner tell me so, and by +them I never was deceived. No, he is incapable of deceit. Whatever have +been his errors, he never stooped to dissimulation. He is again my own, +still capable of loving me, still worthy of all my affection. I knew +that the delusion could not last long, or rather you told me so, my +best friend, and I believed you; you did him justice. He was indeed +deceived--who might not have been deceived by Olivia? His passions were +under the power of an enchantress; but now he has triumphed over her +arts. He sees her such as she is, and her influence ceases. + +I am not absolutely certain of all this; but I believe, because I hope +it: yet he is evidently embarrassed, and seems unhappy: what can be the +meaning of this? Perhaps he does not yet know his Leonora sufficiently +to be secure of her forgiveness. How I long to set his heart at ease, +and to say to him, let the past be forgotten for ever! How easy it is to +the happy to forgive! There have been moments when I could not, I fear, +have been just, when I am sure that I could not have been generous. I +shall immediately offer to accompany Mr. L---- to Russia; I can have +no farther hesitation, for I see that he wishes it; indeed, just now he +almost said so. His baggage is already embarked at Yarmouth--he sails +in a few days--and in a few hours your daughter's fate, your daughter's +happiness, will be decided. It is decided, for I am sure he loves me; +I see, I hear, I feel it. Dearest mother, I write to you in the first +moment of joy.--I hear his foot upon the stairs. + +Your happy + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCIV. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +L---- Castle. + +MY DEAR MOTHER, + +My hopes are all vain. Your prophecies will never be accomplished. We +have both been mistaken in Mr. L----'s character, and henceforward your +daughter must not depend upon him for any portion of her happiness. I +once thought it impossible that my love for him could be diminished: +he has changed my opinion. Mine is not that species of weak or +abject affection which can exist under the sense of ill-treatment and +injustice, much less can my love survive esteem for its object. + +I told you, my dear mother, and I believed, that his affections had +returned to me; but I was mistaken. He has not sufficient strength or +generosity of soul to love me, or to do justice to my love. I offered +to go with him to Russia: he answered, "That is +impossible."--Impossible!--Is it then impossible for him to do that +which is just or honourable? or seeing what is right, must he follow +what is wrong? or can his heart never more be touched by virtuous +affections? Is his taste so changed, so depraved, that he can now be +pleased and charmed only by what is despicable and profligate in our +sex? Then I should rejoice that we are to be separated--separated for +ever. May years and years pass away and wear out, if possible, the +memory of all he has been to me! I think I could better, much better +bear the total loss, the death of him I have loved, than endure to feel +that he had survived both my affection and esteem; to see the person the +same, but the soul changed; to feel every day, every hour, that I must +despise what I have so admired and loved. + +Mr. L---- is gone from hence. He leaves England the day after to-morrow. +Lady Olivia is to _follow_ him. I am glad that public decency is not to +be outraged by their embarking together. My dearest mother, be assured +that at this moment your daughter's feelings are worthy of you. +Indignation and the pride of virtue support her spirit. + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCV. + +GENERAL B---- TO LADY LEONORA L----. + + +Yarmouth. + +Had I not the highest confidence in Lady Leonora L----'s fortitude, I +should not venture to write to her at this moment, knowing as I do that +she is but just recovered from a dangerous illness. + +Mr. L---- had requested me to meet him at L---- Castle previously to his +leaving England, but it was out of my power. I met him however on the +road to Yarmouth, and as we travelled together I had full opportunity +of seeing the state of his mind. Permit me--the urgency of the case +requires it--to speak without reserve, with the freedom of an old +friend. I imagine that your ladyship parted from Mr. L---- with feelings +of indignation, at which I cannot be surprised: but if you had seen +him as I saw him, indignation would have given way to pity. Loving you, +madam, as you deserve to be loved, most ardently, most tenderly; touched +to his inmost soul by the proofs of affection he had seen in your +letters, in your whole conduct, even to the last moment of parting; my +unhappy friend felt himself bound to resist the temptation of staying +with you, or of accepting your generous offer to accompany him to +Petersburg. He thought himself bound in honour by a promise extorted +from him to save from suicide one whom he thinks he has injured, one who +has thrown herself upon his protection. Of the conflict in his mind at +parting with your ladyship I can judge from what he suffered afterwards. +I met Mr. L---- with feelings of extreme indignation, but before I had +been an hour in his company, I never pitied any man so much in my +life, for I never yet saw any one so truly wretched, and so thoroughly +convinced that he deserved to be so. You know that he is not one who +often gives way to his emotions, not one who expresses them much in +words--but he could not command his feelings. + +The struggle was too violent. I have no doubt that it was the real cause +of his present illness. As the moment approached when he was to leave +England, he became more and more agitated. Towards evening he sunk into +a sort of apathy and gloomy silence, from which he suddenly broke into +delirious raving. At twelve o'clock last night, the night he was to have +sailed, he was seized with a violent and infectious fever. As to the +degree of immediate danger, the physicians here cannot yet pronounce. +I have sent to town for Dr. ----. Your ladyship may be certain that +I shall not quit my friend, and that he shall have every possible +assistance and attendance. + +I am, with the truest esteem, + +Your ladyship's faithful servant, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCVI. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +DEAR MOTHER, L---- Castle. + +This moment an express from General B----. Mr. L---- is dangerously +ill at Yarmouth--a fever, brought on by the agitation of his mind. How +unjust I have been! Forget all I said in my last. I write in the utmost +haste--just setting out for Yarmouth. I hope to be there to-morrow. + +Your affectionate + +LEONORA L----. + +I open this to enclose the general's letter, which will explain every +thing. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCVII. + +GENERAL B---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, Yarmouth. + +Your Grace, I find, is apprised of Lady Leonora L----'s journey hither: +I fear that you rely upon my prudence for preventing her exposing +herself to the danger of catching this dreadful fever. But that has been +beyond my power. Her ladyship arrived late last night. I had foreseen +the probability of her coming, but not the possibility of her coming so +soon. I had taken no precautions, and she was in the house and upon +the stairs in an instant. No entreaties, no arguments could stop her; I +assured her that Mr. L----'s fever was pronounced by all the physicians +to be of the most infectious kind. Dr. ---- joined me in representing +that she would expose her life to almost certain danger if she persisted +in her determination to see her husband; but she pressed forward, +regardless of all that could be said. To the physicians she made no +answer; to me she replied, "You are Mr. L----'s friend, but I am his +wife: you have not feared to hazard your life for him, and do you think +I can hesitate?" I urged that there was no necessity for more than one +person's running this hazard; and that since it had fallen to my lot to +be with my friend when he was first taken ill--She interrupted me,--"Is +not this taking a cruel advantage of me, general? You know that I, +too, would have been with Mr. L----, if--if it had been possible." Her +manner, her pathetic emphasis, and the force of her implied meaning, +struck me so much, that I was silent, and suffered her to pass on; but +again the idea of her danger rushing upon my mind, I sprang before her +to the door of Mr. L----'s apartment, and opposed her entrance. "Then, +general," said she, calmly, "perhaps you mistake me--perhaps you have +heard repeated some unguarded words of mine in the moment of indignation +... unjust ... you best know how unjust indignation!--and you infer +from these that my affection for my husband is extinguished. I deserve +this--but do not punish me too severely." + +I still kept my hand upon the lock of the door, expostulating with Lady +Leonora in your Grace's name, and in Mr. L----'s, assuring her that if +he were conscious of what was passing, and able to speak, he would order +me to prevent her seeing him in his present situation. + +"And you, too, general!" said she, bursting into tears: "I thought you +were my friend--would you prevent me from seeing him? And is not he +conscious of what is passing? And is not he able to speak? Sir, I must +be admitted! You have done your duty--now let me do mine. Consider, my +right is superior to yours. No power on earth should or can prevent a +wife from seeing her husband when he is.... Dear, dear general!" said +she, clasping her raised hands, and falling suddenly at my feet, "let me +see him but for one minute, and I will be grateful to you for ever!" + +I could resist no longer--I tremble for the consequences. I know your +Grace sufficiently to be aware that you ought to be told the whole +truth. I have but little hopes of my poor friend's life. + +With much respect, + +Your grace's faithful servant, + +J.B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCVIII. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Richmond. + +A mist hung over my eyes, and "my ears with hollow murmurs rung," when +the dreadful tidings of your alarming illness were announced by your +cruel messenger. My dearest L----! why does inexorable destiny doom me +to be absent from you at such a crisis? Oh! this fatal wound of mine! +It would, I fear, certainly open again if I were to travel. So this +corporeal being must be imprisoned here, while my anxious soul, my +viewless spirit, hovers near you, longing to minister each tender +consolation, each nameless comfort that love alone can, with fond +prescience and magic speed, summon round the couch of pain. + +"O that I had the wings of a dove, that I might fly to you!" Why must I +resign the sweetly-painful task of soothing you in the hour of sickness? +And shall others with officious zeal, + + "Guess the faint wish, explain the asking eye?" + +Alas it must be so--even were I to fly to him, my sensibility could +not support the scene. To behold him stretched on the bed of +disease--perhaps of death--would be agony past endurance. Let firmer +nerves than Olivia's, and hearts more callous, assume the offices from +which they shrink not. 'Tis the fate, the hard fate of all endued with +exquisite sensibility, to be palsied by the excess of their feelings, +and to become imbecile at the moment their exertions are most necessary. + +Your too tenderly sympathizing + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER XCIX. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +Yarmouth. + +My husband is alive, and that is all. Never did I see, nor could I have +conceived, such a change, and in so short a time! When I opened the +door, his eyes turned upon me with unmeaning eagerness: he did not know +me. The good general thought my voice might have some effect. I spoke, +but could obtain no answer, no sign of intelligence. In vain I called +upon him by every name that used to reach his heart. I kneeled beside +him, and took one of his burning hands in mine. I kissed it, and +suddenly he started up, exclaiming, "Olivia! Olivia!" with dreadful +vehemence. In his delirium he raved about Olivia's stabbing herself, and +called upon us to hold her arm, looking wildly towards the foot of the +bed, as if the figure were actually before him. Then he sunk back, as +if quite exhausted, and gave a deep sigh. Some of my tears fell upon his +hand; he felt them before I perceived that they had fallen, and looked +so earnestly in my face, that I was in hopes his recollection was +returning; but he only said, "Olivia, I believe that you love me;" then +sighed more deeply than before, drew his hand away from me, and, as well +as I could distinguish, said something about Leonora. + +But why should I give you the pain of hearing all these circumstances, +my dear mother? It is enough to say, that he passed a dreadful night. +This morning the physicians say, that if he passes this night--if--my +dear mother, what a terrible suspense! + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER C. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +Yarmouth. + +Morning is at last come, and my husband is still alive: so there is yet +hope. When I said I thought I could bear to survive him, how little I +knew of myself, and how little, how very little I expected to be so soon +tried! All evils are remediable but one, that one which I dare not name. + +The physicians assure me that he is better. His friend, to whose +judgment I trust more, thinks as they do. I know not what to believe. +I dread to flatter myself and to be disappointed, I will write again, +dearest mother, to-morrow. + +Your ever affectionate + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CI. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +Wednesday. + +No material change since yesterday, my dear mother. This morning, as I +was searching for some medicine, I saw on the chimney-piece a note from +Lady Olivia ----. It might have been there yesterday, and ever since my +arrival, but I did not see it. At any other time it would have excited +my indignation, but my mind is now too much weakened by sorrow. My fears +for my husband's life absorb all other feelings. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CII. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Richmond. + +Words cannot express what I have suffered since I wrote last! Oh! why do +I not bear that the danger is over!--Long since would I have been +with you, all that my soul holds dear, could I have escaped from these +tyrants, these medical despots, who detain me by absolute force, and +watch over me with unrelenting vigilance. I have consulted Dr. ----, who +assures me that my fears of my wound opening, were I to take so long a +journey, are too well-founded; that in the present feverish state of my +mind he would not answer for the consequences. I heed him not--life I +value not.--Most joyfully would I sacrifice myself for the man I love. +But even could I escape from my persecutors, too well I know that to +see you would be a vain attempt--too well I know that I should not be +admitted. Your love, your fears for Olivia would barbarously banish her, +and forbid her your dear, your dangerous atmosphere. Too justly would +you urge that my rashness might prove our mutual ruin--that in the +moment of crisis or of convalescence, anxiety for me might defeat the +kind purpose of nature. And even were I secure of your recovery, the +delay, I speak not of the danger of my catching the disease, would, +circumstanced as we are, be death to our hopes. We should be compelled +to part. The winds would waft you from me. The waves would bear you to +another region, far--oh! far from your + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CIII. + +GENERAL B---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, Yarmouth, Thursday,--. + +Mr. L---- has had a relapse, and is now more alarmingly ill than I +have yet seen him: he does not know his situation, for his delirium +has returned. The physicians give him over. Dr. H---- says that we must +prepare for the worst. + +I have but one word of comfort for your Grace--that your admirable +daughter's health has not yet suffered. + +Your Grace's faithful servant, + +J.B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CIV. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +MY DEAREST MOTHER, Yarmouth. + +The delirium has subsided. A few minutes ago, as I was kneeling beside +him, offering up an almost hopeless prayer for his recovery, his eyes +opened, and I perceived that he knew me. He closed his eyes again +without speaking, opened them once more, and then looking at me fixedly, +exclaimed: "It is not a dream! You are Leonora!--_my_ Leonora!" + +What exquisite pleasure I felt at the sound of these words, at the tone +in which they were pronounced! My husband folded me in his arms; and, +till I felt his burning lips, I forgot that he was ill. + +When he came thoroughly to his recollection, and when the idea that his +fever might be infectious occurred to him, he endeavoured to prevail +upon me to leave the room. But what danger can there be for me _now_? +My whole soul, my whole frame is inspired with new life. If he recover, +your daughter may still be happy. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CV. + +GENERAL B----TO THE DUCHESS OF----. + + +My Dear Madam, + +A few hours ago my friend became perfectly sensible of his danger, and +calling me to his bedside, told me that he was eager to make use of +the little time which he might have to live. He was quite calm and +collected. He employed me to write his last wishes and bequests; and I +must do him the justice to declare, that the strongest idea and feeling +in his mind evidently was the desire to show his entire confidence in +his wife, and to give her, in his last moments, proofs of his esteem and +affection. When he had settled his affairs, he begged to be left alone +for some time. Between twelve and one his bell rang, and he desired to +see Lady Leonora and me. He spoke to me with that warmth of friendship +which he has ever felt from our childhood. Then turning to his wife, +his voice utterly failed, and he could only press to his lips that hand +which was held out to him in speechless agony. + +"Excellent woman!" he articulated at last; then collecting his mind, +he exclaimed, "My beloved Leonora, I will not die without expressing my +feelings for you; I know yours for me. I do not ask for that forgiveness +which your generous heart granted long before I deserved it. Your +affection for me has been shown by actions, at the hazard of your life; +I can only thank you with weak words. You possess my whole heart, my +esteem, my admiration, my gratitude." + +Lady Leonora, at the word _gratitude_, made an effort to speak, and laid +her hand upon her husband's lips. He added, in a more enthusiastic +tone, "You have my undivided love. Believe in the truth of these +words--perhaps they are the last I may ever speak." + +My friend sunk back exhausted, and I carried Lady Leonora out of the +room. + +I returned half an hour ago, and found every thing silent: Mr. L---- is +lying with his eyes closed--quite still--I hope asleep. This may be a +favourable crisis. I cannot delay this letter longer. + +Your Grace's faithful servant, + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CVI. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +DEAREST MOTHER, Yarmouth. + +He has slept several hours.--Dr. H----, the most skilful of all his +physicians, says that we may now expect his recovery. Adieu. The good +general will add a line to assure you that I am not deceived, nor too +sanguine. + +Yours most affectionately, + +LEONORA L----. + +_Postscript by General B----._ + +I have some hopes--that is all I can venture to say to your grace. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CVII. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +DEAREST MOTHER, Yarmouth. + +Excellent news for you to-day!--Mr. L---- is pronounced out of danger. +He seems excessively touched by my coming here, and so grateful for the +little kindness I have been able to show him during his illness! But +alas! that fatal promise! the recollection of it comes across my mind +like a spectre. Mr. L---- has never touched upon this subject,--I do all +in my power to divert his thoughts to indifferent objects. + +This morning when I went into his room, I found him tearing to pieces +that note which I mentioned to you a few days ago. He seemed much +agitated, and desired to see General B----. They are now together, +and were talking so loud in the next room to me, that I was obliged to +retire, lest I should overhear secrets. Mr. L---- this moment sends +for me. If I should not have time to add more, this short letter will +satisfy you for to-day. + +Leonora L----. + +I open my letter to say, that I am not so happy as I was when I began +it. I have heard all the circumstances relative to this terrible affair. +Mr. L---- will go to Russia. I am as far from happiness as ever. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CVIII. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Richmond. + + "Say, is not absence death to those that love?" + +How just, how beautiful a sentiment! yet cold and callous is that heart +which knows not that there is a pang more dreadful than absence--far +as the death of lingering torture exceeds, in corporeal sufferance, the +soft slumber of expiring nature. Suspense! suspense! compared with thy +racking agony, even absence is but the blessed euthanasia of love. + +My dearest L----, why this torturing silence? one line, one word, I +beseech you, from _your own hand_; say but _I live and love you, my +Olivia_. Hour after hour, and day after day, have I waited and waited, +and hoped, and feared to hear from you. Oh, this intolerable agonizing +suspense! Yet hope clings to my fond heart--hope! sweet treacherous +hope! + + "Non so si la Speranza + Va con l'inganno unita; + So che mantiene in vita + Qualche infelici almen." + +Olivia. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CIX. + +MR. L---- TO OLIVIA. + + +MY DEAR OLIVIA, Yarmouth. + +This is the first line I have written since my illness. I could not +sooner relieve you from suspense, for during most of this time I have +been delirious, and never till now able to write. My physicians have +this morning pronounced me out of danger; and as soon as my strength is +sufficient to bear the voyage, I shall sail, according to my promise. + +Your prudence, or that of your physician, has saved me much +anxiety--perhaps saved my life: for had you been so rash as to come +hither, besides my fears for your safety, I should have been exposed, +in the moment of my returning reason, to a conflict of passions which I +could not have borne. + +Leonora is with me; she arrived the night after I was taken ill, and +forced her way to me, when my fever was at the highest, and while I was +in a state of delirium. + +Lady Leonora will stay with me till the moment I sail, which I expect to +do in about ten days. I cannot say positively, for I am still very weak, +and may not be able to keep my word to a day. Adieu. I hope your mind +will now be at ease. I am glad to hear from the surgeon that your wound +is quite closed. I will write again, and more fully, when I am better +able. Believe me, Olivia, I am most anxious to secure your happiness: +allow me to believe that this will be in the power of + +Yours sincerely, + +F. L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CX. + +OLIVIA TO MR. L----. + + +Richmond. + +Barbarous man! with what cold cruelty you plunge a dagger into my heart! +Leonora is with you!--Leonora! Then I am undone. Yes, she will--she has +resumed all her power, her rights, her habitual empire over your heart. +Wretched Olivia!--But you say it is your wish to secure my happiness, +you bid me allow you to believe it is in your power. What phrases!--You +will sail, _according to your promise_.--Then nothing but your honour +binds you to Olivia. And even now, at this guilty instant, in your +secret soul, you wish, you expect from my offended pride, from my +disgusted delicacy, a renunciation of this promise, a release from all +the ties that bind you to me. You are right: this is what I ought to do; +what I would do, if love had not so weakened my soul, so prostrated +my spirit, rendered me so abject a creature, that _I cannot_ what _I +would_. + +I must love on--female pride and resentment call upon me in vain. I +cannot hate you. Even by the feeble tie, which I see you long to break, +I must hold rather than let you go for ever. I will not renounce your +promise. I claim it. I adjure you by all which a man of honour holds +most sacred, to quit England the moment your health will allow you to +sail. No equivocating with your conscience!--I hold you to your word. +Oh, my dearest L----! to feel myself reduced to use such language to +you, to find myself clinging to that last resource of ship-wrecked +love, _a promise_! It is with unspeakable agony I feel all this; lower I +cannot sink in misery. Raise me, if indeed you wish my happiness--raise +me! it is yet in your power. Tell me, that my too susceptible heart has +mistaken phantoms for realities--tell me, that your last was not colder +than usual; yes, I am ready to be deceived. Tell me that it was only the +languor of disease; assure me that my rival forced her way only to your +presence, that she has not won her easy way back to your heart--assure +me that you are impatient once more to see your own + +OLIVIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CXI. + +LEONORA TO HER MOTHER. + + +MY DEAREST MOTHER, Yarmouth. + +Can you believe or imagine that I am actually unwilling to say or to +think that Mr. L---- is quite well? yet this is the fact. Such is the +inconsistency and weakness of our natures--of my nature, I should say. +But a short time ago I thought that no evil could be so great as his +danger; now that danger is past, I dread to hear him say that he is +perfectly recovered. The moment he is able he goes to Russia; that is +decided irrevocably. The promise has been claimed and repeated. A solemn +promise cannot be broken for any human consideration. I should despise +him if he broke it; but can I love him for keeping it? His mind is at +this instant agitated as much as mine is--more it cannot be. Yet I +ought to be better able to part with him now than when we parted before, +because I have now at least the consolation of knowing that he leaves me +against his will--that his heart will not go from me. This time I cannot +be deceived; I have had the most explicit assurances of his _undivided_ +love. And indeed I was never deceived. All the appearances of regret +at parting with me were genuine. The general witnessed the consequent +struggle in Mr. L----'s mind, and this fever followed. + +I will endeavour to calm and content myself with the possession of +his love, and with the assurance that he will return to me as soon as +possible. As soon as possible! but what a vague hope! He sails with the +first fair wind. What a dreadful certainty! Perhaps to-morrow! Oh, my +dearest mother, perhaps to-night! + +LEONORA L----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CXII. + +GENERAL B---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +MY DEAR MADAM, Yarmouth. + +Today Mr. L----, finding himself sufficiently recovered, gave orders to +all his suite to embark, and the wind being fair, determined to go on +board immediately. In the midst of the bustle of the preparations for +his departure, Lady Leonora, exhausted by her former activity, and +unable to take any part in what was passing, sat silent, pale, and +motionless, opposite to a window, which looked out upon the sea; the +vessel in which her husband was to sail lay in sight, and her eyes were +fixed upon the streamers, watching their motion in the wind. + +Mr. L---- was in his own apartment writing letters. An express arrived; +and among other letters for the English ambassador to Russia, there +was a large packet directed to Lady Leonora L----. Upon opening it, +the crimson colour flew into her face, and she exclaimed, "Olivia's +letters!--Lady Olivia----'s letters to Mad. de P----. Who could send +these to me?" + +"I give you joy with all my heart!" cried I; "no matter how they +come--they come in the most fortunate moment possible. I would stake +my life upon it they will unmask Olivia at once. Where is Mr. L----? He +must read them this moment." + +I was hurrying out of the room to call my friend, but Lady Leonora +stopped my career, and checked the transport of my joy. + +"You do not think, my dear general," said she, "that I would for any +consideration do so dishonourable an action as to read these letters?" + +"Only let Mr. L---- read them," interrupted I, "that is all I ask of +your ladyship. Give them to me. For the soul of me I can see nothing +dishonourable in this. Let Lady Olivia be judged by her own words. Your +ladyship shall not be troubled with her trash, but give the letters to +me, I beseech you." + +"No, I cannot," said Lady Leonora, steadily. "It is a great temptation; +but I ought not to yield." She deliberately folded them up in a blank +cover, directed them to Lady Olivia, and sealed them; whilst I, half in +admiration and half in anger, went on expostulating. + +"Good God! this is being too generous! But, my dear Lady Leonora, why +will you sacrifice yourself? This is misplaced delicacy! Show those +letters, and I'll lay my life Mr. L---- never goes to Russia." + +"My dear friend," said she, looking up with tears in her eyes, "do not +tempt me beyond my power to resist. Say no more." At this instant Mr. +L----came into the room; and I am ashamed to confess to your Grace, +I really was so little master of myself, that I was upon the point of +seizing Olivia's letters, and putting them into his hands. "L----," said +I, "here is your admirable wife absurdly, yes, I must say it, absurdly +standing upon a point of honour with one who has none! That packet which +she has before her--" + +Lady Leonora imposed silence upon me by one of those looks which no man +can resist. + +"My dear Leonora, you are right," said Mr. L----; "and you are almost +right, my dear general: I know what that packet contains; and without +doing anything dishonourable, I hold myself absolved from my promise; I +shall not go to Russia, my dearest wife!" He flew into her arms--and I +left them. I question whether they either of them felt much more than I +did. + +For some minutes I was content with knowing that these things had +really happened, that I had heard Mr. L---- say he was absolved from +all promises, and that he would not go to Russia; but how did all this +happen so suddenly?--How did he know the contents of Olivia's letters, +and without doing any thing dishonourable? There are some people who +cannot be perfectly happy till they know the _rationale_ of their +happiness. I am one of these. I did not feel "a sober certainty of +waking bliss," till I read a letter which Mr. L---- received by the same +express that brought Olivia's letters, and which he read while we were +debating. I beg your Grace's pardon if I am too minute in explanation; +but I do as I would be done by. The letter was from one of the private +secretaries, who is, I understand, a relation and friend of Lady Leonora +L----. As the original goes this night to Lady Olivia, I send your Grace +a copy. You will give me credit for copying, and at such a time as this! +I congratulate your Grace, and + +I have the honour to be, &c., + +J. B. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CXIII + +TO MR. L---- + + +[Private.] + +London, St. James's-street. + +My Dear Sir, + +In the same moment you receive this, your lady, for whom I have the +highest regard, will receive from me a valuable present, a packet of +Lady Olivia ----'s letters to one of her French friends. These letters +were lately found in a French frigate, taken by one of our cruisers; +and, as _intercepted correspondence_ is the order of the day, these, +with all the despatches on board, were transmitted to our office to be +examined, in hopes of making reprisals of state secrets. Some letters +about the court and Emperor of Russia led us to suppose that we should +find some political manoeuvres, and we examined farther. The examination +fortunately fell to my lot, as private secretary. After looking them all +over, however, I found that these papers contain only family secrets: +I obtained permission to send them to Lady Leonora L----, to ensure +the triumph of virtue over vice--to put it into her ladyship's power +completely to unmask her unworthy rival. These letters will show you by +what arts you have been deceived. You will find yourself ridiculed as _a +cold, awkward Englishman_; one who will _hottentot again, whatever pains +may be taken to civilize him; a man of ice_, to be taken as a lover from +_pure charity_, or _pure curiosity_, or the pure _besoin d'aimer_. Here +are many pure motives, of which you will, my dear sir, take your +choice. You will farther observe in one of her letters, that Lady Olivia +premeditated the design of prevailing with you to carry her to Russia, +that she might show her power _to that proudest of earthly prudes_, the +Duchess of ----, and that she might _gratify her great revenge against +Lady Leonora L----_. + +Sincerely hoping, my dear sir, that these letters may open your eyes, +and restore you and my amiable relation to domestic happiness, I make no +apology for the liberty I take, and cannot regret the momentary pain +I may inflict. You are at liberty to make what use you think proper of +this letter. + +I have it in command from my Lord ---- to add, that if your health, +or any other circumstances, should render this embassy to Russia less +desirable to you than it appeared some time ago, other arrangements can +be made, and another friend of government is ready to supply your place. + +I am, my dear sir, + +Yours, &c. + +To F. L----, Esq. &c. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CXIV. + +FROM LADY LEONORA ---- TO THE DUCHESS OF ----. + + +Yarmouth. + +Joy, dearest mother! Come and share your daughter's happiness! + +_Continued by General B----._ + + * * * * * + +Lady Olivia, thus unmasked by her own hand, has fled to the continent, +declaring that she will never more return to England. There she is +right--England is not a country fit for such women.--But I will never +waste another word or thought upon her. + +Mr. L---- has given up the Russian embassy, and returns with Lady +Leonora to L---- Castle to-morrow. He has invited me to accompany them. +Lady Leonora is now the happiest of wives, and your Grace the happiest +of mothers. + +I have the honour and the pleasure to be + +Your Grace's sincerely attached, + +J. B----. + + * * * * * + +LETTER CXV. + +THE DUCHESS OF ---- TO LADY LEONORA L----. + + +My beloved daughter, pride and delight of your happy mother's heart, I +give you joy! Your temper, fortitude, and persevering affection, have +now their just reward. Enjoy your happiness, heightened as it must be by +the sense of self-approbation, and by the sympathy of all who know +you. And now let me indulge the vanity of a mother; let me exult in +the accomplishment of my prophecies, and let me be listened to with due +humility, when I prophesy again. With as much certainty as I foretold +what is now present, I foresee, my child, your future destiny, and I +predict that you will preserve while you live your husband's fondest +affections. Your prudence will prevent you from indulging too far your +taste for retirement, or for the exclusive society of your intimate +friends. Spend your winters in London: your rank, your fortune, and, I +may be permitted to add, your character, manners, and abilities, give +you the power of drawing round you persons of the best information and +of the highest talents. Your husband will find, in such society, every +thing that can attach him to his home; and in you, his most rational +friend and his most charming companion, who will excite him to every +generous and noble exertion. + +For the good and wise, there is in love, a power unknown to the ignorant +and the vicious, a power of communicating fresh energy to all the +faculties of the soul, of exalting them to the highest state of +perfection. The friendship which in later life succeeds to such love is +perhaps the greatest, and certainly the most permanent blessing of life. + +An admirable German writer--you see, my dear, that I have no prejudices +against good German writers--an admirable German writer says, that "Love +is like the morning shadows, which diminish as the day advances; but +friendship is like the shadows of the evening, which increase even till +the setting of the sun." ---- + +1805. + + + + +LETTER + +From + +A GENTLEMAN TO HIS FRIEND, + +Upon the + +BIRTH OF A DAUGHTER; + +WITH THE ANSWER. + + +I congratulate you, my dear sir, upon the birth of your daughter; and I +wish that some of the fairies of ancient times were at hand to endow the +damsel with health, wealth, wit, and beauty. Wit?--I should make a long +pause before I accepted of this gift for a daughter--you would make +none. + +As I know it to be your opinion that it is in the power of education, +more certainly than it was ever believed to be in the power of fairies, +to bestow all mental gifts; and as I have heard you say that education +should begin as early as possible, I am in haste to offer you my +sentiments, lest my advice should come too late. + +Your general ideas of the habits and virtues essential to the perfection +of the female character nearly agree with mine; but We differ materially +as to the cultivation which it is necessary or expedient to bestow upon +the understandings of women. You are a champion for the rights of +woman, and insist upon the equality of the sexes: but since the days of +chivalry are past, and since modern gallantry permits men to speak, +at least to one another, in less sublime language of the fair; I may +confess to you that I see neither from experience nor analogy much +reason to believe that, in the human species alone, there are no marks +of inferiority in the female:--curious and admirable exceptions there +may be, but many such have not fallen within my observation. I cannot +say that I have been much enraptured, either on a first view or on a +closer inspection, with female prodigies. Prodigies are scarcely less +offensive to my taste than monsters: humanity makes us refrain +from expressing disgust at the awkward shame of the one, whilst +the intemperate vanity of the other justly provokes ridicule and +indignation. I have always observed in the understandings of women who +have been too much cultivated, some disproportion between the different +faculties of their minds. One power of the mind undoubtedly may be +cultivated at the expense of the rest; as we see that one muscle or limb +may acquire excessive strength, and an unnatural size, at the expense of +the health of the whole body: I cannot think this desirable, either +for the individual or for society.--The unfortunate people in certain +mountains of Switzerland are, some of them, proud of the excrescence +by which they are deformed. I have seen women vain of exhibiting mental +deformities, which to me appeared no less disgusting. In the course of +my life it has never been my good fortune to meet with a female whose +mind, in strength, just proportion, and activity, I could compare to +that of a sensible man. + +Allowing, however, that women are equal to our sex in natural abilities; +from their situation in society, from their domestic duties, their taste +for dissipation, their love of romance, poetry, and all the lighter +parts of literature, their time must be so fully occupied, that they +could never have leisure for, even supposing that they were capable of, +that severe application to which our sex submit.--Between persons of +equal genius and equal industry, time becomes the only measure of their +acquirements.--Now calculate the time which is wasted by the fair sex, +and tell me how much the start of us they ought to have in the beginning +of the race, if they are to reach the goal before us?--It is not +possible that women should ever be our equals in knowledge, unless you +assert that they are far our superiors in natural capacity.--Not only +time but, opportunity must be wanting to complete female studies:--we +mix with the world without restraint, we converse freely with all +classes of people, with men of wit, of science, of learning, with the +artist, the mechanic, the labourer; every scene of life is open to our +view; every assistance that foreign or domestic ingenuity can invent, to +encourage literary studies, is ours almost exclusively. From academies, +colleges, public libraries, private associations of literary men, women +are excluded, if not by law, at least by custom, which cannot easily be +conquered.--Whenever women appear, even when we seem to admit them as +our equals in understanding, every thing assumes a different form; our +politeness, delicacy, habits towards the sex, forbid us to argue or to +converse with them as we do with one another:--we see things as they +are; but women must always see things through a veil, or cease to be +women.--With these insuperable difficulties in their education and in +their passage through life, it seems impossible that their minds should +ever acquire that vigour and _efficiency_, which accurate knowledge and +various experience of life and manners can bestow. + +Much attention has lately been paid to the education of the female sex; +and you will say that we have been amply repaid for our care,--that +ladies have lately exhibited such brilliant proofs of genius, as must +dazzle and confound their critics. I do not ask for proofs of genius, I +ask for solid proofs of utility. In which of the useful arts, in which +of the exact sciences, have we been assisted by female sagacity +or penetration?--I should be glad to see a list of discoveries, of +inventions, of observations, evincing patient research, of truths +established upon actual experiment, or deduced by just reasoning from +previous principles:--if these, or any of these, can be presented by a +female champion for her sex, I shall be the first to clear the way for +her to the temple of Fame. + +I must not speak of my contemporaries, else candour might oblige me +to allow that there are some few instances of great talents applied +to useful purposes:--but, except these, what have been the literary +productions of women! In poetry, plays, romances, in the art of +imposing upon the understanding by means of the imagination, they have +excelled;--but to useful literature they have scarcely turned their +thoughts. I have never heard of any female proficients in science--few +have pretended to science till within these few years. + +You will tell me, that in the most difficult and most extensive science +of politics women have succeeded;--you will cite the names of some +illustrious queens. I am inclined to think, with the Duke of Burgundy, +that "queens who reigned well were governed by men, and kings who +reigned ill were governed by women." + +The isolated examples of a few heroines cannot convince me that it +is safe or expedient to trust the sex with power:--their power over +themselves has regularly been found to diminish, in proportion as their +power over others has been increased. I should not refer you to the +scandalous chronicles of modern times, to volumes of private anecdotes, +or to the abominable secret histories of courts, where female influence +and female depravity are synonymous terms; but I appeal to the open +equitable page of history, to a body of evidence collected from the +testimony of ages, for experiments tried upon the grandest scale +of which nature admits, registered by various hands, without the +possibility of collusion, and without a view to any particular +system:--from these you must be convinced, that similar consequences +have uniformly resulted from the same causes, in nations the most +unlike, and at periods the most distant. Trace the history of female +nature, from the court of Augustus to the court of Louis the Fourteenth, +and tell me whether you can hesitate to acknowledge that the influence, +the liberty, and the _power_ of women have been constant concomitants +of the moral and political decline of empires;--I say the concomitants: +where events are thus invariably connected, I might be justified in +saying that they were _causes_--you would call them _effects_; but we +need not dispute about the momentary precedence of evils, which are +found to be inseparable companions:--they may be alternately cause +and effect,--the reality of the connexion is established; it may be +difficult to ascertain precisely its nature. + +You will assert, that the fatal consequences which have resulted from +our trusting the sex with liberty and power, have been originally +occasioned by the subjection and ignorance in which they had previously +been held, and of our subsequent folly and imprudence, in _throwing the +reins of dominion into hands unprepared and uneducated to guide them_. +I am at a loss to conceive any system of education that can properly +prepare women for the exercise of power. Cultivate their understandings, +"cleanse the visual orb with euphrasy and rue," till they can with one +comprehensive glance take in "one half at least of round eternity;" +still you have no security that their reason will govern their conduct. +The moral character seems, even amongst men of superior strength of +mind, to have no certain dependence upon the reasoning faculty;--habit, +prejudice, taste, example, and the different strength of various +passions, form the moral character. We are impelled to action, +frequently contrary to the belief of our sober reason; and we +pursue what we could, in the hour of deliberation, demonstrate to be +inconsistent with _that greatest possible share of happiness_, which it +is the object of every rational creature to secure. We frequently "think +with one species of enthusiasm, and act with another:" and can we expect +from women more consistency of conduct, if they are allowed the same +liberty?--No one can feel, more strongly than you do, the necessity and +the value of female integrity; no one can more clearly perceive how +much in society depends upon the honour of women; and how much it is the +interest of every individual, as well as of every state, to guard their +virtue, and to preserve inviolate the purity of their manners. Allow me, +then, to warn you of the danger of talking in loud strains to the sex, +of the noble contempt of prejudice. You would look with horror at one +who should go to sap the foundations of the building; beware then how +you venture to tear away the ivy which clings to the walls, and braces +the loose stones together. + +I am by no means disposed to indulge in the fashionable ridicule +of prejudice. There is a sentimental, metaphysical argument, which, +independently of all others, has lately been used, to prevail upon us +to relinquish that superiority which strength of body in savage, and +strength of mind in civilized nations, secure to man. We are told, +that as women are reasonable creatures, they should be governed only by +reason; and that we _disgrace_ ourselves, and _enslave_ them, when we +instil even the most useful truths as prejudices.--Morality should, +we are told, be founded upon demonstration, not upon sentiment; and +we should not require human beings to submit to any laws or customs, +without convincing their understandings of the universal utility of +these political conventions. When are we to expect this conviction? +We cannot expect it from childhood, scarcely from youth; but from the +maturity of the understanding we are told that we may expect it with +certainty.--And of what use can it then be to us? When the habits are +fixed, when the character is decided, when the manners are formed, what +can be done by the bare conviction of the understanding? What could +we expect from that woman, whose moral education was to begin, at +the moment when she was called upon to _act_; and who, without having +imbibed in her early years any of the salutary prejudices of her sex, +or without having been educated in the amiable acquiescence to well +established maxims of female prudence, should boldly venture to conduct +herself by the immediate conviction of her understanding? I care not for +the names or titles of my guides; all that I shall inquire is, which is +best acquainted with the road. Provided women be conducted quietly +to their good, it is scarcely worth their while to dispute about the +pompous metaphysical names, or precedency of their motives. Why should +they deem it disgraceful to be induced to pursue their interest by what +some philosophers are pleased to call _weak_ motives? Is it not much +less disgraceful to be peaceably governed by weak reasons, than to be +incapable of being restrained by the strongest? The dignity of human +nature, and the boasted free-will of rational agents, are high-sounding +words, likely to impose upon the vanity of the fair sex, as well as upon +the pride of ours; but if we analyze the ideas annexed to these terms, +to what shall we reduce them? Reason in its highest perfection seems +just to arrive at the certainty of instinct; and truth impressed upon +the mind in early youth by the united voice of affection and authority, +gives all the real advantages of the most investigating spirit of +philosophy. If the result of the thought, experience, and sufferings of +one race of beings is, (when inculcated upon the belief of the next,) +to be stigmatized as prejudice, there is an end to all the benefits of +history and of education. The mutual intercourse of individuals and of +nations must be only for the traffic or amusement of the day. Every age +must repeat the same experiments; every man and every nation must make +the same mistakes, and suffer the same miseries, whilst the civilization +and happiness of the world, if not retrograde in their course, must, for +ever be stationary. + +Let us not then despise, or teach the other sex to despise, the +traditional maxims of experience, or those early prepossessions, which +may be termed prejudices, but which in reality serve as their moral +instinct. I can see neither tyranny on our part, nor slavery on theirs, +in this system of education. This sentimental or metaphysical appeal +to our candour and generosity has then no real force; and every other +argument for the _literary_ and _philosophical_ education of women, +and for the extraordinary cultivation of their understandings, I have +examined. + +You probably imagine that, by the superior ingenuity and care you may +bestow on your daughter's education, you shall make her an exception +to general maxims; you shall give her all the blessings of a literary +cultivation, and at the same time preserve her from all the follies, and +faults, and evils, which have been found to attend the character of a +literary lady. + +Systems produce projects; and as projects in education are of all others +the most hazardous, they should not be followed till after the most +mature deliberation. Though it may be natural, is it wise for any man +to expect extraordinary success, from his efforts or his precautions, +beyond what has ever been the share of those who have had motives as +strong for care and for exertion, and some of whom were possibly his +equals in ability? Is it not incumbent upon you, as a parent and as a +philosopher, to calculate accurately what you have to fear, as well +as what you have to hope? You can at present, with a sober degree or +interest, bear to hear me enumerate the evils, and ridicule the foibles, +incident to literary ladies; but if your daughter were actually in this +class, you would not think it friendly if I were to attack them. In +this favourable moment, then, I beg you to hear me with temper; and as I +touch upon every danger and every fault, consider cautiously whether +you have a certain preventive or a specific remedy in store for each of +them. + +Women of literature are much more numerous of late than they were a few +years ago. They make a class in society, they fill the public eye, and +have acquired a degree of consequence and an appropriate character. The +esteem of private friends, and the admiration of the public for their +talents, are circumstances highly flattering to their vanity; and as +such I will allow them to be substantial pleasures. I am also ready to +acknowledge that a taste for literature adds much to the happiness of +life, and that women may enjoy to a certain degree this happiness as +well as men. But with literary women this silent happiness seems at +best but a subordinate consideration; it is not by the treasures they +possess, but by those which they have an opportunity of displaying, that +they estimate their wealth. To obtain public applause, they are betrayed +too often into a miserable ostentation of their learning. Coxe tells +us, that certain Russian ladies split their pearls, in order to make a +greater display of finery. + +The pleasure of being admired for wit or erudition, I cannot exactly +measure in a female mind; but state it to be as delightful as you can +imagine it to be, there are evils attendant upon it, which, in +the estimation of a prudent father, may over-balance the good. The +intoxicating effect of wit upon the brain has been well remarked, by a +poet, who was a friend to the fair sex: and too many ridiculous, and +too many disgusting examples confirm the truth of the observation. The +deference that is paid to genius, sometimes makes the fair sex forget +that genius will be respected only when united with discretion. +Those who have acquired fame, fancy that they can afford to sacrifice +reputation. I will suppose, however, that their heads shall be strong +enough to bear inebriating admiration, and that their conduct shall +be essentially irreproachable; yet they will show in their manners and +conversation that contempt of inferior minds, and that neglect of common +forms and customs, which will provoke the indignation of fools, and +which cannot escape the censure of the wise. Even whilst we are secure +of their innocence, we dislike that daring spirit in the female sex, +which delights to oppose the common opinions of society, and from +apparent trifles we draw unfavourable omens, which experience too often +confirms. You will ask me why I should suppose that wits are more liable +to be spoiled by admiration than beauties, who have usually a larger +share of it, and who are not more exempt from vanity? Those who are vain +of trifling accomplishments, of rank, of riches, or of beauty, depend +upon the world for their immediate gratification. They are sensible of +their dependence; they listen with deference to the maxims, and attend +with anxiety to the opinions of those, from whom they expect their +reward and their daily amusements. In their subjection consists their +safety; whilst women, who neither feel dependent for amusement nor for +self-approbation upon company and public places, are apt to consider +this subjection as humiliating, if not insupportable: perceiving their +own superiority, they despise, and even set at defiance, the opinions of +their acquaintance of inferior abilities: contempt, where it cannot be +openly retorted, produces aversion, not the less to be dreaded because +constrained to silence: envy, considered as the involuntary tribute +extorted by merit, is flattering to pride: and I know that many +women delight to excite envy, even whilst they affect to fear its +consequences: but they, who imprudently provoke it, are little aware of +the torments they prepare for themselves.--"Cover your face well +before you disturb the hornet's nest," was a maxim of the _experienced_ +Catherine de Medici. + +Men of literature, if we may trust to the bitter expressions of anguish +in their writings, and in their private letters, feel acutely all the +stings of envy. Women, who have more susceptibility of temper, and less +strength of mind, and who, from the delicate nature of their reputation, +are more exposed to attack, are also less able to endure it. Malignant +critics, when they cannot attack an author's peace in his writings, +frequently scrutinize his private life; and every personal anecdote is +published without regard to truth or propriety. How will the delicacy of +the female character endure this treatment? How will her friends bear +to see her pursued even in domestic retirement, if she should be wise +enough to make that retirement her choice? How will they like to +see premature memoirs, and spurious collections of familiar letters, +published by needy booksellers, or designing enemies? Yet to all these +things men of letters are subject; and such must literary ladies expect, +if they attain to any degree of eminence.--Judging, then, from the +experience of our sex, I may pronounce envy to be one of the evils which +women of uncommon genius have to dread. "Censure," says a celebrated +writer, "is a tax which every man must pay to the public, who seeks to +be eminent." Women must expect to pay it doubly. + +Your daughter, perhaps, shall be above scandal. She shall despise the +idle whisper, and the common tattle of her sex; her soul shall be raised +above the ignorant and the frivolous; she shall have a relish for higher +conversation, and a taste for higher society; but where is she to +find, or how is she to obtain this society? You make her incapable +of friendship with her own sex. Where is she to look for friends, for +companions, for equals? Amongst men? Amongst what class of men? Not +amongst men of business, or men of gallantry, but amongst men of +literature. + +Learned men have usually chosen for their wives, or for their +companions, women who were rather below than above the standard of +mediocrity: this seems to me natural and reasonable. Such men, probably, +feel their own incapacity for the daily business of life, their +ignorance of the world, their slovenly habits, and neglect of domestic +affairs. They do not want wives who have precisely their own defects; +they rather desire to find such as shall, by the opposite habits and +virtues, supply their deficiencies. I do not see why two books should +marry, any more than two estates. Some few exceptions might be quoted +against Stewart's observations. I have just seen, under the article "A +Literary Wife," in D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, an account of +Francis Phidelphus, a great scholar in the fifteenth century, who was +so desirous of acquiring the Greek language in perfection, that he +travelled to Constantinople in search of a _Grecian wife_: the lady +proved a scold. "But to do justice to the name of Theodora," as this +author adds, "she has been honourably mentioned in the French Academy +of Sciences." I hope this proved an adequate compensation to her husband +for his domestic broils. + +Happy Mad. Dacier! you found a husband suited to your taste! You and +Mons. Dacier, if D'Alembert tells the story rightly, once cooked a dish +in concert, by a receipt which you found in Apicius, and you both sat +down and ate of your learned ragout till you were both like to die. + +Were I sure, my dear friend, that every literary lady would be equally +fortunate in finding in a husband a man who would sympathize in her +tastes, I should diminish my formidable catalogue of evils. But, alas! +M. Dacier is no more; "and we shall never live to see his fellow." +Literary ladies will, I am afraid, be losers in love, as well as in +friendship, by the superiority.--Cupid is a timid, playful child, and +is frightened at the helmet of Minerva. It has been observed, that +gentlemen are not apt to admire a prodigious quantity of learning and +masculine acquirements in the fair sex;--we usually consider a certain +degree of weakness, both of mind and body, as friendly to female grace. +I am not absolutely of this opinion; yet I do not see the advantage +of supernatural force, either of body or mind, to female excellence. +Hercules-Spinster found his strength rather an incumbrance than an +advantage. + +Superiority of mind must be united with great temper and generosity, to +be tolerated by those who are forced to submit to its influence. I +have seen witty and learned ladies, who did not seem to think it at all +incumbent upon them to sacrifice any thing to the sense of propriety. On +the contrary, they seemed to take both pride and pleasure in showing +the utmost stretch of their strength, regardless of the consequences, +panting only for victory. Upon such occasions, when the adversary +has been a husband or a father, I must acknowledge that I have felt +sensations which few ladies can easily believe they excite. Airs and +graces I can bear as well as another; but airs without graces no man +thinks himself bound to bear, and learned airs least of all. Ladies +of high rank in the court of Parnassus are apt, sometimes, to claim +precedency out of their own dominions, which creates much confusion, +and generally ends in their being affronted. That knowledge of the world +which keeps people in their proper places they will never learn from the +Muses. + +Moliere has pointed out, with all the force of comic ridicule, in the +Femmes Savantes, that a lady, who aspires to the sublime delights +of philosophy and poetry, must forego the simple pleasures, and will +despise the duties of domestic life. I should not expect that my house +affairs would be with haste despatched by a Desdemona, weeping over some +unvarnished tale, or petrified with some history of horrors, at the +very time when she should be ordering dinner, or paying the butcher's +bill.--I should have the less hope of rousing her attention to my +culinary concerns and domestic grievances, because I should probably +incur her contempt for hinting at these sublunary matters, and her +indignation for supposing that she ought to be employed in such +degrading occupations. I have heard, that if these sublime geniuses are +awakened from their reveries by the _appulse_ of external circumstances, +they start, and exhibit all the perturbation and amazement of +_cataleptic_ patients. + +Sir Charles Harrington, in the days of Queen Elizabeth, addressed a copy +of verses to his wife, "On Women's Vertues:"--these he divides into +"the private, _civill_, and heroyke;" the private belong to the country +housewife, whom it concerned; chiefly-- + + "The fruit, malt, hops, to tend, to dry, to utter, + To beat, strip, spin the wool, the hemp, the flax, + Breed poultry, gather honey, try the wax, + And more than all, to have good cheese and butter. + Then next a step, but yet a large step higher, + Came civill vertue fitter for the citty, + With modest looks, good clothes, and answers witty. + These baser things not done, but guided by her." + +As for heroyke vertue, and heroyke dames, honest Sir Charles would have +nothing to do with them. + +Allowing, however, that you could combine all these virtues--that +you could form a perfect whole, a female wonder from every creature's +best--dangers still threaten you. How will you preserve your daughter +from that desire of universal admiration, which will ruin all your +work? How will you, along with all the pride of knowledge, give her that +"retiring modesty," which is supposed to have more charms for our sex +than the fullest display of wit and beauty? + +The _fair Pauca of Thoulouse_ was so called because she was so fair that +no one could live either with or without beholding her:--whenever she +came forth from her own mansion, which, history observes, she did very +seldom, such impetuous crowds rushed to obtain a sight of her, that +limbs were broken and lives were lost wherever she appeared. She +ventured abroad less frequently--the evil increased--till at length the +magistrates of the city issued an edict commanding the fair Pauca, under +the pain of perpetual imprisonment, to appear in broad daylight for one +hour, every week, in the public market-place. + +Modern ladies, by frequenting public places so regularly, declare their +approbation of the wholesome regulations of these prudent magistrates. +Very different was the crafty policy of the prophet Mahomet, who forbad +his worshippers even to paint his picture. The Turks have pictures of +the hand, the foot, the features of Mahomet, but no representation of +the whole face or person is allowed. The portraits of our beauties, in +our exhibition-room, show a proper contempt of this insidious policy; +and those learned and ingenious ladies who publish their private +letters, select maxims, secret anecdotes, and family memoirs, are +entitled to our thanks, for thus presenting us with full-lengths of +their minds. + +Can you expect, my dear sir, that your daughter, with all the genius +and learning which you intend to give her, should refrain from these +imprudent exhibitions? Will she "yield her charms of mind with sweet +delay?" Will she, in every moment of her life, recollect that the fatal +desire for universal applause always defeats its own purpose, especially +if the purpose be to win our love as well as our admiration? It is in +vain to tell me, that more enlarged ideas in our sex would alter +our tastes, and alter even the associations which now influence our +passions. The captive who has numbered the links of his chains, and +has even discovered how these chains are constructed, is not therefore +nearer to the recovery of his liberty. + +Besides, it must take a length of time to alter associations and +opinions, which, if not _just_, are at least _common_ in our sex. You +cannot expect even that conviction should operate immediately upon the +public taste. You will, in a few years, have educated your daughter; and +if the world be not educated exactly at the right time to judge of her +perfections, to admire and love them, you will have wasted your labour, +and you will have sacrificed your daughter's happiness: that happiness, +analyze it as a man of the world or as a philosopher, must depend on +friendship, love, the exercise of her virtues, the just performance +of all the duties of life, and the self-approbation arising from the +consciousness of good conduct. + +I am, my dear friend, + +Yours sincerely. + + + + +ANSWER + +TO + +THE PRECEDING LETTER. + + +I have as little taste for Mad. Dacier's learned ragout as you can +have, my dear sir; and I pity the great scholar, who travelled to +Constantinople for the termagant Theodora, believing, as you do, that +the honourable mention made of her by the French Academy of Sciences, +could be no adequate compensation to her husband for domestic disquiet: +but the lady's learning was not essential to his misfortune; he might +have met with a scolding dame, though he had not married a Grecian. A +profusion of vulgar aphorisms in the dialects of all the counties in +England, proverbs in Welsh, Scotish, French, Spanish, Italian, and +Hebrew, might be adduced to prove that scolds are to be found amongst +all classes of women. I am, however, willing to allow, that the more +learning, and wit, and eloquence a lady possesses, the more troublesome +and the more dangerous she may become as a wife or daughter, unless +she is also possessed of good sense and good temper. Of your honest +Sir Charles Harrington's two pattern wives, I think I should prefer the +country housewife, with whom I could be sure of having good cheese and +butter, to the _citty dame_ with her good clothes and answers witty.--I +should be afraid that these answers witty might be turned against me, +and might prove the torment of my life.--You, who have attended to +female disputants, must have remarked, that, learned or unlearned, they +seldom know how to reason; they assert and declaim, employ wit, +and eloquence, and sophistry, to confute, persuade, or abash +their adversaries; but distinct reasoning they neither use nor +comprehend.--Till women learn to reason, it is in vain that they acquire +learning. + +You are satisfied, I am sure, with this acknowledgment. I will go +farther, and at once give up to you all the learned ladies that exist, +or that ever have existed: but when I use the term literary ladies, I +mean women who have cultivated their understandings not for the purposes +of parade, but with the desire to make themselves useful and agreeable. +I estimate the value of a woman's abilities and acquirements, by the +degree in which they contribute to her happiness. + +You think yourself happy because you are wise, said a philosopher to a +pedant.--I think myself wise because I am happy. + +You tell me, that even supposing I could educate my daughter so as to +raise her above the common faults and follies of her sex; even supposing +I could give her an enlarged understanding, and literature free from +pedantry, she would be in danger of becoming unhappy, because she would +not, amongst her own sex, find friends suited to her taste, nor amongst +ours, admirers adequate to her expectations: you represent her as in the +situation of the poor flying-fish, exposed to dangerous enemies in her +own element, yet certain, if she tries to soar above them, of being +pounced upon by the hawk-eyed critics of the higher regions. + +You allow, however, that women of literature are much more numerous of +late than they were a few years ago; that they make a class in +society, and have acquired a considerable degree of consequence, and an +appropriate character; how can you then fear that a woman of cultivated +understanding should be driven from the society of her own sex in search +of dangerous companions amongst ours? In the female world she will be +neither without an equal nor without a judge; she will not have much to +fear from envy, because its malignant eye will not fix upon one object +exclusively, when there are numbers to distract its attention, and +share the stroke. The fragile nature of female friendships, the petty +jealousies which break out at the ball or in the drawing-room, have been +from time immemorial the jest of mankind. Trifles, light as air, will +necessarily excite not only the jealousy, but the envy of those who +think only of trifles. Give them more employment for their thoughts, +give them a nobler spirit of emulation, and we shall hear no more of +these paltry feuds; give them more useful and more interesting subjects +of conversation, and they become not only more agreeable, but safer +companions for each other. + +Unmarried women, who have stored their minds with knowledge, who have +various tastes and literary occupations, who can amuse and be amused in +the conversation of well-informed people, are in no danger of becoming +burthensome to their friends or to society: though they may not be seen +haunting every place of amusement or of public resort, they are not +isolated or forlorn; by a variety of associations they are connected +with the world, and their sympathy is expanded and supported by the +cultivation of their understandings; nor can it sink, settle, and +concentrate upon cats, parrots, and monkeys. How far the human heart may +be contracted by ignorance it is difficult to determine; but I am little +inclined to envy the _simple_ pleasures of those whose understandings +are totally uncultivated.--Sir William Hamilton, in his account of +the last eruption of Mount Vesuvius, gives us a curious picture of the +excessive ignorance and stupidity of some nuns in a convent at Torre del +Greco:--one of these nuns was found warming herself at the red-hot lava, +which had rolled up to the window of her cell. It was with the greatest +difficulty that these scarcely rational beings could be made to +comprehend the nature of their danger; and when at last they were +prevailed upon to quit the convent, and were advised to carry with +them whatever they thought most valuable, they loaded themselves with +sweetmeats.--Those who wish for ignorant wives, may find them in other +parts of the world, as well as in Italy. + +I do not pretend, that even by cultivating my daughter's understanding +I can secure for her a husband suited to her taste; it will therefore +be prudent to make her felicity in some degree independent of matrimony. +Many parents have sufficient kindness and foresight to provide, in point +of fortune, for their daughters; but few consider that if a single life +should be their choice or their doom, something more is necessary to +secure respect and happiness for them in the decline of life. The silent +_unreproved_ pleasures of literature are the sure resource of those +who have cultivated minds; those who have not, must wear out their +disconsolate unoccupied old age as chance directs. When you say that +men of superior understanding dislike the appearance of extraordinary +strength of mind in the fair sex, you probably mean that the display of +that strength is disgusting, and you associate with the idea of strength +of mind, masculine, arrogant, or pedantic manners: but there is no +necessary connexion between these things; and it seems probable that +the faults usually ascribed to learned ladies, like those peculiar to +learned men, may have arisen in a great measure from circumstances which +the progress of civilization in society has much altered. + +In the times of ignorance, men of deep science were considered by the +vulgar as a class of necromancers, and they were looked upon alternately +with terror and admiration; and learned men imposed upon the vulgar by +assuming strange airs of mystery and self-importance, wore long beards +and solemn looks; they spoke and wrote in a phraseology peculiar to +themselves, and affected to consider the rest of mankind as beneath +their notice: but since knowledge has been generally diffused, all this +affectation has been laid aside; and though we now and then hear of men +of genius who indulge themselves in peculiarities, yet upon the whole +the manners of literary men are not strikingly nor wilfully different +from those of the rest of the world. The peculiarities of literary women +will also disappear as their numbers increase. You are disgusted by +their ostentation of learning. Have patience with them, my dear sir; +their taste will become more simple when they have been taught by +experience that this parade is offensive: even the bitter expression of +your disgust may be advantageous to those whose manners are yet to be +formed; they will at least learn from it what to avoid; and your letter +may perhaps hereafter be of service in my daughter's education.--It +is scarcely to be supposed, that a girl of good understanding would +deliberately imitate the faults and follies which she hears ridiculed +during her childhood, by those whom she esteems. + +As to your dread of prodigies, that will subside:--prodigies are heard +of most frequently during the ages of ignorance. A woman may now possess +a considerable stock of information without being gazed upon as a +miracle of learning; and there is not much danger of her being vain of +accomplishments which cease to be astonishing. Nor will her peace be +disturbed by the idle remarks of the ignorant vulgar.--A literary +lady is no longer a sight; the spectacle is now too common to attract +curiosity; the species of animal is too well known even to admit of +much exaggeration in the description of its appearance, A lady riding +on horseback upon a side-saddle is not thought a wonderful thing by +the common people in England; but when an English lady rode upon a +side-saddle in an Italian city, where the sight was unusual, she was +universally gazed at by the populace; to some she appeared an object of +astonishment, to others of compassion:--"Ah! poverina," they exclaimed, +"n'ha che una gamba!" + +The same objects excite different emotions in different situations; +and to judge what will astonish or delight any given set of people some +years hence, we must consider not merely what is the fashion of to-day, +but whither the current of opinion runs, and what is likely to be the +fashion of hereafter.--You must have observed that public opinion is at +present more favourable to the cultivation of the understanding of the +female sex than it was some years ago; more attention is paid to the +education of women, more knowledge and literature are expected from them +in society. From the literary lady of the present day something more is +expected than that she should know how to spell and to write better than +Swift's celebrated Stella, whom he reproves for writing _villian_ and +_daenger_:--perhaps this very Stella was an object of envy in her own +day to those who were her inferiors in literature. No man wishes his +wife to be obviously less cultivated than those of her own rank; and +something more is now required, even from ordinary talents, than what +distinguished the accomplished lady of the seventeenth century. What the +standard of excellence may be in the next age we cannot ascertain, +but we may guess that the taste for literature will continue to be +progressive; therefore, even if you assume that the education of the +female sex should be guided by the taste and reigning opinions of ours, +and that it should be the object of their lives to win and keep our +hearts, you must admit the expediency of attending to that fashionable +demand for literature and the fine arts, which has arisen in society. + +No woman can foresee what may be the taste of the man with whom she may +be united; much of her happiness, however, will depend upon her being +able to conform her taste to his: for this reason I should therefore, in +female education, cultivate the general powers of the mind, rather than +any particular faculty. I do not desire to make my daughter merely a +musician, a painter, or a poet; I do not desire to make her merely a +botanist, a mathematician, or a chemist; but I wish to give her early +the habit of industry and attention, the love of knowledge, and the +power of reasoning: these will enable her to attend to excellence in any +pursuit to which she may direct her talents. You will observe, that many +things which formerly were thought above the comprehension of women, +or unfit for their sex, are now acknowledged to be perfectly within the +compass of their abilities, and suited to their situation.--Formerly +the fair sex was kept in Turkish ignorance; every means of acquiring +knowledge was discountenanced by fashion, and impracticable even +to those who despised fashion;--our books of science were full of +unintelligible jargon, and mystery veiled pompous ignorance from public +contempt; but now writers must offer their discoveries to the public in +distinct terms, which every body may understand; technical language no +longer supplies the place of knowledge, and the art of teaching has been +carried to such perfection, that a degree of knowledge may now with +ease be acquired in the course of a few years, which formerly it was +the business of a life to attain. All this is much in favour of female +literature. Ladies have become ambitious to superintend the education of +their children, and hence they have been induced to instruct themselves, +that they may be able to direct and inform their pupils. The mother, who +now aspires to be the esteemed and beloved instructress of her children, +must have a considerable portion of knowledge. Science has of late +"_been enlisted under the banners of imagination_," by the irresistible +charms of genius; by the same power, her votaries will be led "_from the +looser analogies which dress out the imagery of poetry to the stricter +ones which form the ratiocination of philosophy_[1]."--Botany has become +fashionable; in time it may become useful, if it be not so already. +Chemistry will follow botany. Chemistry is a science well suited to +the talents and situation of women; it is not a science of parade; it +affords occupation and infinite variety; it demands no bodily strength; +it can be pursued in retirement; it applies immediately to useful and +domestic purposes; and whilst the ingenuity of the most inventive mind +may in this science be exercised, there is no danger of inflaming the +imagination, because the mind is intent upon realities, the knowledge +that is acquired is exact, and the pleasure of the pursuit is a +sufficient reward for the labour. + +[Footnote 1: Vide preface to Darwin's Botanic Garden.] + +A clear and ready knowledge of arithmetic is surely no useless +acquirement for those who are to regulate the expenses of a family. +Economy is not the mean "penny wise and pound foolish" policy which some +suppose it to be; it is the art of calculation joined to the habit +of order, and the power of proportioning our wishes to the means of +gratifying them. The little pilfering temper of a wife is despicable and +odious to every man of sense; but there is a judicious, graceful species +of economy, which has no connexion with an avaricious temper, and +which, as it depends upon the understanding, can be expected only from +cultivated minds. Women who have been well educated, far from despising +domestic duties, will hold them in high respect; because they will see +that the whole happiness of life is made up of the happiness of each +particular day and hour, and that much of the enjoyment of these must +depend upon the punctual practice of those virtues which are more +valuable than splendid. + +It is not, I hope, your opinion, that ignorance is the best security for +female virtue. If this connexion between virtue and ignorance could once +be clearly proved, we ought to drown our books deeper than ever plummet +sounded:--I say _we_--for the danger extends equally to both sexes, +unless you assert that the duties of men rest upon a more certain +foundation than the duties of the other sex: if our virtues can be +demonstrated to be advantageous, why should theirs suffer for being +exposed to the light of reason?--All social virtue conduces to our own +happiness or that of our fellow-creatures; can it weaken the sense +of duty to illustrate this truth?--Having once pointed out to the +understanding of a sensible woman the necessary connexion between her +virtues and her happiness, must not those virtues, and the means of +preserving them, become in her eyes objects of the most interesting +importance? But you fear, that even if their conduct continued to be +irreproachable, the manners of women might be rendered less delicate +by the increase of their knowledge; you dislike in the female sex that +daring spirit which despises the common forms of society, and which +breaks through the reserve and delicacy of female manners:--so do +I:--and the best method to make my pupil respect these things is to show +her how they are indispensably connected with the largest interests +of society: surely this perception of the utility of forms apparently +trifling, must be a strong security to the prudential reserve of the +sex, and far superior to the automatic habits of those who submit to +the conventions of the world without consideration or conviction. +Habit, confirmed by reason, assumes the rank of virtue. The motives that +restrain from vice must be increased by the clear conviction, that vice +and wretchedness are inseparably united. + +Do not, however, imagine, my dear sir, that I shall attempt to lay moral +demonstration before _a child_, who could not possibly comprehend my +meaning; do not imagine that because I intend to cultivate my daughter's +understanding, I shall neglect to give her those early habits of reserve +and modesty which constitute the female character.--Believing, as I do, +that woman, as well as man, may be called a bundle of habits, I shall +be peculiarly careful, during my child's early education, to give her as +many good habits as possible; by degrees as her understanding, that is +to say as her knowledge and power of reasoning shall increase, I can +explain the advantages of these habits, and confirm their power by the +voice of reason. I lose no time, I expose myself to no danger, by this +system. On the contrary, those who depend entirely upon the force of +custom and prejudice expose themselves to infinite danger. If once their +pupils begin to reflect upon their own hoodwinked education, they will +probably suspect that they have been deceived in all that they have been +taught, and they will burst their bonds with indignation.--Credulity +is always rash in the moment she detects the impositions that have been +practised upon her easy temper. In this inquiring age, few have any +chance of passing through life without being excited to examine the +motives and principles from which they act: is it not therefore prudent +to cultivate the reasoning faculty, by which alone this examination can +be made with safety? A false argument, a repartee, the charms of wit or +eloquence, the voice of fashion, of folly, of numbers, might, if she had +no substantial reasons to support her cause, put virtue not only out of +countenance, but out of humour. + +You speak of moral instinct. As far as I understand the term, it implies +certain habits early acquired from education; to these I would add the +power of reasoning, and then, and not till then, I should think +myself safe:--for I have observed that the pupils of habit are utterly +confounded when they are placed in circumstances different from those to +which they have been accustomed.--It has been remarked by travellers +and naturalists, that animals, notwithstanding their boasted instinctive +knowledge, sometimes make strange and fatal mistakes in their conduct, +when they are placed in new situations:--destitute of the reasoning +faculty, and deceived by resemblances, they mistake poison for food. +Thus the bull-frog will swallow burning charcoal, mistaking it for +fire-flies; and the European hogs and poultry which travelled to Surinam +poisoned themselves by eating plants that were unknown to them[1]. + +[Footnote 1: Vide Stedmen's Voyage to Surinam, vol. ii. p. 47.] + +You seem, my dear sir, to be afraid that truth should not keep so firm a +hold upon the mind as prejudice; and you produce an allusion to justify +your fears. You tell us that civil society is like a building, and you +warn me not to tear down the ivy which clings to the walls, and braces +the loose stones together.--I believe that ivy, in some situations, +tends to pull down the walls to which it clings.--You think it is not +worth while to cultivate the understandings of women, because you say +that you have no security that the conviction of their reason will have +any permanent good effect upon their conduct; and to persuade me of +this, you bid me observe that men who are superior to women in strength +of mind and judgment, are frequently misled by their passions. By this +mode of argument, you may conclude that reason is totally useless to the +whole human race; but you cannot, with any show of justice, infer that +it ought to be monopolized by one-half of mankind. But why should you +quarrel with reason, because passion sometimes conquers her?--You should +endeavour to strengthen the connexion between theory and practice, if +it be not sufficiently strong already; but you can gain nothing by +destroying theory.--Happiness is your aim; but your unpractised or +unsteady hand does not obey your will: you do not at the first trial +hit the mark precisely.--Would you, because you are awkward, insist upon +being blind? + +The strength of mind which enables people to govern themselves by +their reason, is not always connected with abilities even in their most +cultivated state: I deplore the instances which I have seen of this +truth, but I do not despair; on the contrary, I am excited to inquire +into the causes of this phenomenon; nor, because I see some evil, +would I sacrifice the good upon a bare motive of suspicion. It is a +contradiction to say, that giving the power to discern what is good is +giving a disposition to prefer what is bad. I acknowledge with regret, +that women who have been but half instructed, who have seen only +superficially the relations of moral and political ideas, and who have +obtained but an imperfect knowledge of the human heart, have conducted +themselves so as to disgrace their talents and their sex; these are +conspicuous and melancholy examples, which are cited oftener with malice +than with pity. But I appeal to examples amongst our contemporaries, to +which every man of literature will immediately advert, to prove, that +where the female understanding has been properly cultivated, women have +not only obtained admiration by their useful abilities, but respect by +their exemplary conduct. + +I apprehend that many of the errors into which women of literature have +fallen, may have arisen from an improper choice of books. Those who read +chiefly works of imagination, receive from them false ideas of life and +of the human heart. Many of these productions I should keep as I would +deadly poison from my child; I should rather endeavour to turn her +attention to science than to romance, and to give her early that taste +for truth and utility, which, when once implanted, can scarcely be +eradicated. There is a wide difference between innocence and ignorance: +ignorant women may have minds the most debased and perverted, whilst +the most cultivated understanding may be united with the most perfect +innocence and simplicity. + +Even if literature were of no other use to the fair sex than to +supply them with employment, I should think the time dedicated to +the cultivation of their minds well bestowed: they are surely better +occupied when they are reading or writing than when coqueting or gaming, +losing their fortunes or their characters. You despise the writings of +women:--you think that they might have made a better use of the pen, +than to write plays, and poetry, and romances. Considering that the pen +was to women a new instrument, I think they have made at least as good a +use of it as learned men did of the needle some centuries ago, when they +set themselves to determine how many spirits could stand upon its point, +and were ready to tear one another to pieces in the discussion of +this sublime question. Let the sexes mutually forgive each other their +follies; or, what is much better, let them combine their talents for +their general advantage.--You say, that the experiments we have made +do not encourage us to proceed--that the increased care and pains which +have been of late years bestowed upon female education have produced +no adequate returns; but you in the same breath allow that amongst your +contemporaries, whom you prudently forbear to mention, there are some +instances of great talents applied to useful purposes. Did you expect +that the fruits of good cultivation should appear before the seed was +sown? You triumphantly enumerate the disadvantages to which women, +from the laws and customs of society, are liable:--they cannot converse +freely with men of wit, science, and learning, nor even with the artist, +or artificers; they are excluded from academies, public libraries, &c. +Even our politeness prevents us, you say, from ever speaking plain truth +and sense to the fair sex:--every assistance that foreign or domestic +ingenuity can invent to encourage literary studies, is, as you boast, +almost exclusively ours: and after pointing out all these causes for the +inferiority of women in knowledge, you ask for a list of the inventions +and discoveries of those who, by your own statement of the question, +have not been allowed opportunities for observation. With the insulting +injustice of an Egyptian task-master, you demand the work, and deny the +necessary materials. + +I admit, that with respect to the opportunities of acquiring knowledge, +institutions and manners are, as you have stated, much in favour of +our sex; but your argument concerning _time_ appears to me to be +unfounded.--Women who do not love dissipation must have more time +for the cultivation of their understandings than men can have, if +you compute the whole of life:--whilst the knowledge of the learned +languages continues to form an indispensable part of a gentleman's +education, many years of childhood and youth must be devoted to their +attainment.--During these studies, the general cultivation of the +understanding is in some degree retarded. All the intellectual powers +are cramped, except the memory, which is sufficiently exercised, but +which is overloaded with words, and with words that are not always +understood.--The genius of living and of dead languages differs so much, +that the pains which are taken to write elegant Latin frequently spoil +the English style.--Girls usually write much better than boys; they +think and express their thoughts clearly at an age when young men can +scarcely write an easy letter upon any common occasion. Women do not +read the good authors of antiquity as school-books, but they can have +excellent translations of most of them when they are capable of tasting +the beauties of composition.--I know that it is supposed we cannot judge +of the classics by translations, and I am sensible that much of the +merit of the originals may be lost; but I think the difference in +pleasure is more than overbalanced to women by the _time_ that is saved, +and by the labour and misapplication of abilities which are spared. If +they do not acquire a classical taste, neither do they imbibe classic +prejudices; nor are they early disgusted with literature by pedagogues, +lexicons, grammars, and all the melancholy apparatus of learning.--Women +begin to taste the pleasures of reading, and the best authors in the +English language are their amusement, just at the age when young +men, disgusted by their studies, begin to be ashamed of alluding to +literature amongst their companions. Travelling, lounging, field sports, +gaming, and what is called pleasure in various shapes, usually fill the +interval between quitting the university and settling for life.--When +this period is past, business, the necessity of pursuing a profession, +the ambition to shine in parliament, or to rise in public life, occupy a +large portion of their lives.--In many professions the understanding is +but partially cultivated; and general literature must be neglected by +those who are occupied in earning bread or amassing riches for their +family:--men of genius are often heard to complain, that in the pursuit +of a profession, they are obliged to contract their inquiries and +concentrate their powers; statesmen lament that they must often pursue +the _expedient_ even when they discern that it is not _the right_; and +men of letters, who earn their bread by their writings, inveigh bitterly +against the tyranny of booksellers, who degrade them to the state of +"literary artisans."--"Literary artisans," is the comprehensive term +under which a celebrated philosopher [1] classes all those who cultivate +only particular talents or powers of the mind, and who suffer their +other faculties to lose all strength and vigour for want of exercise. +The other sex have no such constraint upon their understandings; neither +the necessity of earning their bread, nor the ambition to shine in +public affairs, hurry or prejudice their minds: in domestic life they +have leisure to be wise. + +[Footnote 1: Professor Dugald Stewart--History of the Philosophy of the +Human Mind.] + +Far from being ashamed that so little has been done by female abilities +in science and useful literature, I am surprised that so much has been +effected. On natural history, on criticism, on moral philosophy, on +education, they have written with elegance, eloquence, precision, and +ingenuity. Your complaint that women do not turn their attention to +useful literature is surely ill-timed. If they merely increased the +number of books in circulation, you might declaim against them +with success; but when they add to the general fund of useful and +entertaining knowledge, you cannot with any show of justice prohibit +their labours: there can be no danger that the market should ever be +overstocked with produce of intrinsic worth. + +The despotic monarchs of Spain forbid the exploring of any new gold or +silver mines without the express permission of government, and they +have ordered several rich ones to be shut up as not equal to the cost +of working. There is some _appearance_ of reason for this exertion +of power: it may prevent the world from being encumbered by nominal +wealth.--But the Dutch merchants, who burn whole cargoes of spice lest +they should lower the price of the commodity in which they deal, show a +mean spirit of monopoly which can plead no plausible excuse.--I hope you +feel nothing like a disposition to Spanish despotism or Dutch jealousy, +when you would exclude female talents from the literary market. + +You observe, that since censure is a tax which every man must pay who +aspires to eminence, women must expect to pay it doubly. Why the tax +should not be equally assessed, I am at a loss to conjecture: but in +fact it does not fall very heavy upon those who have any portion of +philosophy: they may, with _the poet of reason_, exclaim-- + + "Though doubly tax'd, how little have I lost!" + +Your dread of the envy attendant upon literary excellence might with +equal justice be extended to every species of merit, and might be urged +against all that is good in art or nature.--Scandal is said to attack +always the fairest characters, as the birds always peck most at the +ripest fruit; but would you for this reason have no fruit ripen, or no +characters aspire to excellence? But if it be your opinion that women +are naturally inferior to us in capacity, why do you feel so much +apprehension of their becoming eminent, or of their obtaining power, +in consequence of the cultivation of their understandings?--These +expressions of scorn and jealousy neutralize each other. If your +contempt were unmixed and genuine, it would be cool and tranquil, +inclining rather to pity than to anger. + +You say that in all animals the female is the inferior; and you have +never seen any reason to believe that the human species affords an +exception to this observation.--Superiority amongst brutes depends upon +force; superiority amongst the human species depends upon reason: that +men are naturally stronger than women is evident; but strength of mind +has no necessary connexion with strength of body; and intellectual +ability has ever conquered mere physical force, from the times of Ajax +and Ulysses to the present day. In civilized nations, that species of +superiority which belongs to force is much reduced in value amongst the +higher classes of society.--The baron who struck his sword into an oak, +and defied any one to pull out the weapon, would not in these days fill +the hearts of his antagonists with terror; nor would the twisting of a +horse-shoe be deemed a feat worthy to decide a nation in their choice of +a king.--The days of chivalry are no more: the knight no longer sallies +forth in ponderous armour, mounted upon "a steed as invulnerable as +himself[1]."--The damsel no longer depends upon the prowess of his +mighty arm to maintain the glory of her charms, or the purity of her +fame; grim barons, and castles guarded by monsters and all-devouring +dragons, are no more; and from being the champions and masters of the +fair sex, we are now become their friends and companions. We have not +surely been losers by this change; the fading glories of romance have +vanished, but the real permanent pleasures of domestic life remain in +their stead; and what the fair have lost of adulation they have gained +in friendship. + +[Footnote 1: Condorcet.--History of the Progress of the Human Mind.] + +Do not, my dear sir, call me a champion for the rights of woman; I am +too much their friend to be their partisan, and I am more anxious for +their happiness than intent upon a metaphysical discussion of their +rights: their happiness is so nearly connected with ours, that it +seems to me absurd to manage any argument so as to set the two sexes +at variance by vain contention for superiority. It ought not to be our +object to make an invidious division of privileges, or an ostentatious +declaration of rights, but to determine what is most for our general +advantage. + +You fear that the minds of women should be enlarged and cultivated, lest +their power in society and their liberty should consequently increase. +Observe that the word _liberty_, applied to the female sex, conveys +alarming ideas to our minds, because we do not stay to define the term; +we have a confused notion that it implies want of reserve, want of +delicacy; boldness of manners, or of conduct; in short, liberty to do +wrong.--Surely this is a species of liberty which knowledge can never +make desirable. Those who understand the real interests of society, who +clearly see the connexion between virtue and happiness, must know +that _the liberty to do wrong_ is synonymous with _the liberty to make +themselves miserable_. This is a privilege of which none would choose +to avail themselves. When reason defines the term, there is no danger +of its being misunderstood; but imagination and false associations often +make this word liberty, in its perverted sense, sound delightful to +those who have been kept in ignorance and slavery. Girls who have been +disciplined under the strict high hand of authority, are apt to fancy +that to escape from habitual restraint, to exercise their own will, no +matter how, is to be free and to be happy.--Hence innumerable errors +in their conduct; hence their mistaken notions of liberty, and that +inordinate ambition to acquire power, which ignorant, ill-educated women +show in every petty struggle, where they are permitted to act in private +life. You believe this temper to be inherent in the sex; and a man, who +has just published a book upon the Spanish bull-fights, declares his +belief, that the passion for bull-fighting is innate in the breast of +every Spaniard.--Do not, my friend, assign two causes for an effect +where one is obviously adequate. The disposition to love command need +not be attributed to any innate cause in the minds of females, whilst it +may be fairly ascribed to their erroneous education. + +I shall early cultivate my daughter's judgment, to prevent her from +being wilful or positive; I shall leave her to choose for herself in all +those trifles upon which the happiness of childhood depends; and I shall +gradually teach her to reflect upon the consequences of her actions, to +compare and judge of her feelings, and to compute the morn and evening +to her day.--I shall thus, I hope, induce her to reason upon all +subjects, even upon matters of taste, where many women think it +sufficient to say, I admire; or, I detest:--Oh, charming! or, Oh, +horrible!--People who have reasons for their preferences and aversions, +are never so provokingly zealous in the support of their own tastes, as +those usually are who have no arguments to convince themselves or others +that they are in the right. + +But you are apprehensive that the desire to govern, which women show in +domestic life, should obtain a larger field to display itself in public +affairs.--It seems to me impossible that they can ever acquire the +species of direct power which you dread: their influence must be +private; it is therefore of the utmost consequence that it should +be judicious.--It was not Themistocles, but his wife and child, who +governed the Athenians; it was therefore of some consequence that the +boy who governed the mother, who governed her husband, should not be a +spoiled child; and consequently that the mother who educated this child +should be a reasonable woman. Thus are human affairs chained together; +and female influence is a necessary and important link, which you cannot +break without destroying the whole. + +If it be your object, my dear sir, to monopolize power for our sex, you +cannot possibly secure it better from the wishes of the other, than by +enlightening their minds and enlarging their views: they will then be +convinced, not by the voice of the moralist, who puts us to sleep whilst +he persuades us of the vanity of all sublunary enjoyments, but by their +own awakened observation: they will be convinced that power is generally +an evil to its possessor; that to those who really wish for the good +of their fellow-creatures, it is at best but a painful trust.--The mad +philosopher in Rasselas, who imagined that he regulated the weather and +distributed the seasons, could never enjoy a moment's repose, lest he +should not make "to the different nations of the earth an impartial +dividend of rain and sunshine."--Those who are entrusted with the +government of nations must, if they have an acute sense of justice, +experience something like the anxiety felt by this unfortunate monarch +of the clouds. + +Lord Kenyon has lately decided that a woman may _be an overseer of a +parish_; but you are not, I suppose, apprehensive that many ladies of +cultivated understanding should become ambitious of this honour.--One +step farther in reasoning, and a woman would desire as little to be a +queen or an empress, as to be the overseer of a parish.--You may perhaps +reply, that men, even those of the greatest understanding, have been +ambitious, and fond even to excess of power. That ambition is the +glorious fault of heroes, I allow; but heroes are not always men of +the most enlarged understandings--they are possessed by the spirit +of military adventure--an infectious spirit, which men catch from one +another in the course of their education:--to this contagion the fair +sex are not exposed. + +At all events, if you suppose that women are likely to acquire influence +in the state, it is prudent to enlighten their understandings, that they +may not make an absurd or pernicious use of their power. You appeal to +history, to prove that great calamities have ensued whenever the +female sex has obtained power; yet you acknowledge that we cannot with +certainty determine whether these evils have been the effects of our +trusting them with liberty, or of our neglecting previously to instruct +them in the use of it:--upon the decision of this question rests your +whole argument. In a most awful tone of declamation, you bid me follow +the history of female nature, from the court of Augustus to that of +Lewis XIVth, and tell you whether I can hesitate to acknowledge, that +the liberty and influence of women have always been the greatest during +the decline of empires.--But you have not proved to me that women +had more knowledge, that they were better educated, at the court of +Augustus, or during the reign of Lewis XIVth, than at any other place, +or during any other period of the world; therefore your argument gains +nothing by the admission of your assertions; and unless I could trace +the history of female education, it is vain for me to follow what you +call the history of female nature. + +It is, however, remarkable, that the means by which the sex have +hitherto obtained that species of power which they have abused, +have arisen chiefly from their personal, and not from their mental +qualifications; from their skill in the arts of persuasion, and from +their accomplishments; not from their superior powers of reasoning, or +from the cultivation of their understanding. The most refined species +of coquetry can undoubtedly be practised in the highest perfection +by women, who to personal graces unite all the fascination of wit and +eloquence. There is infinite danger in permitting such women to obtain +power without having acquired habits of reasoning. Rousseau admires +these sirens; but the system of Rousseau, pursued to its fullest extent, +would overturn the world, would make every woman a Cleopatra, and +every man an Antony; it would destroy all domestic virtue, all domestic +happiness, all the pleasures of truth and love.--In the midst of that +delirium of passion to which Antony gave the name of love, what must +have been the state of his degraded, wretched soul, when he could +suspect his mistress of designs upon his life?--To cure him of these +suspicions, she at a banquet poisoned the flowers of his garland, waited +till she saw him inflamed with wine, then persuaded him to break the +tops of his flowers into his goblet, and just stopped him when the cup +was at his lips, exclaiming--"Those flowers are poisoned: you see that I +do not want the means of destroying you, if you were become tiresome +to me, or if I could live without you."--And this is the happy pair who +instituted the orders of _The inimitable lovers_!--and _The companions +in death_![1] + +[Footnote 1: Vide Plutarch.] + +These are the circumstances which should early be pointed out, to +both sexes, with all the energy of truth: let them learn that the most +exquisite arts of the most consummate coquette, could not obtain the +confidence of him, who sacrificed to her charms, the empire of the +world. It is from the experience of the past that we must form our +judgment of the future. How unjustly you accuse me of desiring to +destroy the memory of past experiments, the wisdom collected by the +labour of ages! _You_ would prohibit this treasure of knowledge to +one-half of the human species; and _I_ on the contrary would lay it +open to all my fellow-creatures.--I speak as if it were actually in our +option to retard or to accelerate the intellectual progress of the sex; +but in fact it is absolutely out of our power to drive the fair sex +back to their former state of darkness: the art of printing has totally +changed their situation; their eyes are opened,--the classic page is +unrolled, they _will_ read:--all we can do is to induce them to read +with judgment--to enlarge their minds so that they may take a full view +of their interests and of ours. I have no fear that the truth upon any +subject should injure my daughter's mind; it is falsehood that I +dread. I dread that she should acquire preposterous notions of love, +of happiness, from the furtive perusal of vulgar novels, or from the +clandestine conversation of ignorant waiting-maids:--I dread that she +should acquire, even from the enchanting eloquence of Rousseau, the +fatal idea, that cunning and address are the natural resources of +her sex; that coquetry is necessary to attract, and dissimulation to +preserve the heart of man.--I would not, however, proscribe an author, +because I believe some of his opinions to be false; I would have my +daughter read and compare various books, and correct her judgment +of books by listening to the conversation of persons of sense and +experience. Women may learn much of what is essential to their +happiness, from the unprejudiced testimony of a father or a brother; +they may learn to distinguish the pictures of real life from paintings +of imaginary manners and passions which never had, which never can have, +any existence.--They may learn that it is not the reserve of hypocrisy, +the affected demeanour either of a prude or a coquette, that we admire; +but it is the simple, graceful, natural modesty of a woman, whose mind +is innocent. With this belief impressed upon her heart, do you think, my +dear friend, that she who can reflect and reason would take the means +to disgust where she wishes to please? or that she would incur contempt, +when she knows how to secure esteem?--Do you think that she will employ +artifice to entangle some heedless heart, when she knows that every +heart which can be so won is not worth the winning?--She will not +look upon our sex either as dupes or tyrants; she will be aware of the +important difference between evanescent passion, and that affection +founded upon mutual esteem, which forms the permanent happiness of life. + +I am not apprehensive, my dear sir, that Cupid should be scared by +the helmet of Minerva; he has conquered his idle, fears, and has been +familiarized to Minerva and the Muses; + + "And now of power his darts are found, + Twice ten thousand times to wound[1]." + +[Footnote 1: See the introduction of Cupid to the Muses and +Minerva, in a charming poem of Mrs. Barbauld's--"_The origin of +song-writing_.'"--Would it not afford a beautiful subject for a +picture?] + +That the power of beauty over the human heart is infinitely increased by +the associated ideas of virtue and intellectual excellence has been long +acknowledged.--A set of features, however regular, inspire but little +admiration or enthusiasm, unless they be irradiated by that sunshine of +the soul which creates beauty. The expression of intelligent benevolence +renders even homely features and cheeks of sorry grain[1] agreeable; and +it has been observed, that the most lasting attachments have not always +been excited by the most beautiful of the sex. As men have become more +cultivated, they have attended more to the expression of amiable and +estimable qualities in the female countenance; and in all probability +the taste for this species of beauty will increase amongst the good +and wise. When agreeable qualities are connected with the view of any +particular form, we learn to love that form, though it may have no other +merit. Women who have no pretensions to Grecian beauty may, if their +countenances are expressive of good temper and good sense, have some +chance of pleasing men of cultivated minds.--In an excellent Review[2] +of Gillier's Essays on the Causes of the Perfection of Antique +Sculpture, which I have just seen, it is observed, that our exclusive +admiration of the physiognomy of the Greeks arises from prejudice, since +the Grecian countenance cannot be necessarily associated with any of the +perfections which now distinguish accomplished or excellent men. This +remark in a popular periodical work shows that the public mind is not +bigoted in matters of taste, and that the standard is no longer supposed +to be fixed by the voice of ancient authority. The changes that are +made in the opinions of our sex as to female beauty, according to +the different situations in which women are placed, and the different +qualities on which we fix the idea of their excellence, are curious and +striking. Ask a northern Indian, says a traveller who has lately visited +them, ask a northern Indian what is beauty? and he will answer, a broad +flat face, small eyes, high cheek bones, three or four broad black lines +across each cheek, a low forehead, a large broad chin, a clumsy hook +nose, &c. These beauties are greatly heightened, or at least rendered +more valuable, when the possessor is capable of dressing all kinds of +skins, converting them into the different parts of their clothing, +and able to carry eight or ten stone in summer, or haul a much greater +weight in winter.--Prince Matanabbee, adds this author, prided himself +much upon the height and strength of his wives, and would frequently +say, few women could carry or haul heavier loads. If, some years ago, +you had asked a Frenchman what he meant by beauty, he would have talked +to you of _l'air piquant, l'air spirituel, l'air noble, l'air comme il +faut_, and he would have referred ultimately to that _je ne scais quoi_, +for which Parisian belles were formerly celebrated.--French women mixed +much in company, the charms of what they called _esprit_ were admired +in conversation, and the _petit minois_ denoting lively wit and coquetry +became fashionable in France, whilst gallantry and a taste for the +pleasures of _society_ prevailed. The countenance expressive of sober +sense and modest reserve continues to be the taste of the English, who +wisely prefer the pleasures of domestic life.--Domestic life should, +however, be enlivened and embellished with all the wit and vivacity and +politeness for which French women were once admired, without admitting +any of their vices or follies. The more men of literature and polished +manners desire to spend their time in their own families, the more they +must wish that their wives and daughters may have tastes and habits +similar to their own. If they can meet with conversation suited to their +taste at home, they will not be driven to clubs for companions; they +will invite the men of wit and science of their acquaintance to their +own houses, instead of appointing some place of meeting from which +ladies are to be excluded. This mixture of the talents and knowledge +of both sexes must be advantageous to the interests of society, by +increasing domestic happiness.--Private _virtues_ are public benefits: +if each bee were content in his cell, there could be no grumbling hive; +and if each cell were complete, the whole fabric must be perfect. + +[Footnote 1: Milton.] [Footnote 2: Appendix to Monthly Review, from +January 1798, page 516.] + +When you asserted, my dear sir, that learned men usually prefer for +their wives, women rather below than above the standard of mental +mediocrity, you forgot many instances strongly in contradiction of this +opinion.--Since I began this letter, I met with the following pathetic +passage, which I cannot forbear transcribing: + +"The greatest part of the observations contained in the foregoing pages +were derived from a lady, who is now beyond the reach of being affected +by any thing in this sublunary world. Her beneficence of disposition +induced her never to overlook any fact or circumstance that fell within +the sphere of her observation, which promised to be in any respect +beneficial to her fellow-creatures. To her gentle influence the public +are indebted, if they be indeed indebted at all, for whatever useful +hints may at any time have dropped from my pen. A being, she thought, +who must depend so much as man does on the assistance of others, owes, +as a debt to his fellow-creatures, the communication of the little +useful knowledge that chance may have thrown in his way. Such has been +my constant aim; such were the views of the wife of my bosom, the friend +of my heart, who supported and assisted me in all my pursuits.--I now +feel a melancholy satisfaction in contemplating those objects she once +delighted to elucidate."[1] + +[Footnote 1: J. Anderson--Essay on the Management of a Dairy] + +Dr. Gregory, Haller, and Lord Lyttleton, have, in the language of +affection, poetry, and truth, described the pleasures which men of +science and literature enjoy in an union with women who can sympathize +in all their thoughts and feelings, who can converse with them as +equals, and live with them as friends; who can assist them in the +important and delightful duty of educating their children; who can make +their family their most agreeable society, and their home the attractive +centre of happiness. + +Can women of uncultivated understandings make such wives or such +mothers? + + + + +LETTERS + +OF + +JULIA AND CAROLINE. + + + No penance can absolve their guilty fame, + Nor tears, that wash out guilt, can wash out shame. + + PRIOR. + + +LETTER I. + +JULIA TO CAROLINE. + + +In vain, dear Caroline, you urge me to _think_; I profess only to +_feel_. + +"_Reflect upon my own feelings!_ Analyze my notions of happiness! +explain to you my system!"--My system! But I have no system: that is the +very difference between us. My notions of happiness cannot be resolved +into simple, fixed principles. Nor dare I even attempt to analyze them; +the subtle essence would escape in the process: just punishment to the +alchymist in morality! + +You, Caroline, are of a more sedate, contemplative character. Philosophy +becomes the rigid mistress of your life, enchanting enthusiasm the +companion of mine. Suppose she lead me now and then in pursuit of a +meteor; am not I happy in the chase? When one illusion vanishes, another +shall appear, and, still leading me forward towards an horizon that +retreats as I advance, the happy prospect of futurity shall vanish only +with my existence. + +"Reflect upon my feelings!"--Dear Caroline, is it not enough that I +do feel?--All that I dread is that _apathy_ which philosophers call +tranquillity. You tell me that by continually _indulging_, I shall +weaken my natural sensibility;--are not all the faculties of the soul +improved, refined by exercise? and why shall _this_ be excepted from the +general law? + +But I must not, you tell me, indulge my taste for romance and poetry, +lest I waste that sympathy on _fiction_ which _reality_ so much better +deserves. My dear friend, let us cherish the precious propensity to +pity! no matter what the object; sympathy with fiction or reality arises +from the same disposition. + +When the sigh of compassion rises in my bosom, when the spontaneous tear +starts from my eye, what frigid moralist shall "stop the genial current +of the soul?" shall say to the tide of passion, _So far shall thou +go, and no farther?_--Shall man presume to circumscribe that which +Providence has left unbounded? + +But oh, Caroline! if our feelings as well as our days are numbered; +if, by the immutable law of nature, apathy be the sleep of passion, and +languor the necessary consequence of exertion; if indeed the pleasures +of life are so ill proportioned to its duration, oh, may that duration +be shortened to me!--Kind Heaven, let not my soul die before my body! + +Yes, if at this instant my guardian genius were to appear before me, and +offering me the choice of my future destiny; on the one hand, the even +temper, the poised judgment, the stoical serenity of philosophy; on the +other, the eager genius, the exquisite sensibility of enthusiasm: if the +genius said to me, "Choose"--the lot of the one is great pleasure, and +great pain--great virtues, and great defects--ardent hope, and severe +disappointment--ecstasy, and despair:--the lot of the other is calm +happiness unmixed with violent grief--virtue without heroism--respect +without admiration--and a length of life, in which to every moment is +allotted its proper portion of felicity:--Gracious genius! I should +exclaim, if half my existence must be the sacrifice, take it; +_enthusiasm is my choice_. + +Such, my dear friend, would be my choice were I a man; as a woman, how +much more readily should I determine! + +What has woman to do with philosophy? The graces flourish not under her +empire: a woman's part in life is to please, and Providence has assigned +to her _success_, all the pride and pleasure of her being. + +Then leave us our weakness, leave us our follies; they are our best +arms:-- + + "Leave us to trifle with more grace and ease, + Whom folly pleases and whose follies please" + +The moment grave sense and solid merit appear, adieu the bewitching +caprice, the "_lively nonsense_," the exquisite, yet childish +susceptibility which charms, interests, captivates.--Believe me, our +_amiable defects_ win more than our noblest virtues. Love requires +sympathy, and sympathy is seldom connected with a sense of superiority. +I envy none their "_painful pre-eminence_." Alas! whether it be +deformity or excellence which makes us say with Richard the Third, + + "I am myself alone!" + +it comes to much the same thing. Then let us, Caroline, content +ourselves to gain in love, what we lose in esteem. + +Man is to be held only by the _slightest_ chains; with the idea that he +can break them at pleasure, he submits to them in sport; but his pride +revolts against the power to which his _reason_ tells him he ought to +submit. What then can woman gain by reason? Can she prove by argument +that she is amiable? or demonstrate that she is an angel? + +Vain was the industry of the artist, who, to produce the image of +perfect beauty, selected from the fairest faces their most faultless +features. Equally vain must be the efforts of the philosopher, who would +excite the idea of mental perfection, by combining an assemblage of +party-coloured virtues. + +Such, I had almost said, is my _system_, but I mean my _sentiments_. I +am not accurate enough to compose a _system_. After all, how vain are +systems, and theories, and reasonings! + +We may _declaim_, but what do we really know? All is uncertainty--human +prudence does nothing--fortune every thing: I leave every thing +therefore to fortune; _you_ leave nothing. Such is the difference +between us,--and which shall be the happiest, time alone can decide. +Farewell, dear Caroline; I love you better than I thought I could love a +philosopher. + +Your ever affectionate + +JULIA. + + * * * * * + +LETTER II. + +CAROLINE'S ANSWER TO JULIA. + + +At the hazard of ceasing to be "_charming_," "_interesting_," +"_captivating_," I must, dear Julia, venture to reason with you, +to examine your favourite doctrine of "_amiable defects_," and, if +possible, to dissipate that unjust dread of perfection which you seem to +have continually before your eyes. + +It is the sole object of a woman's life, you say, to _please_. Her +amiable defects _please_ more than her noblest virtues, her follies more +than her wisdom, her caprice more than her temper, and _something_, a +nameless something, which no art can imitate and no science can teach, +more than all. + +_Art_, you say, spoils the graces, and corrupts the heart of woman; +and at best can produce only a cold model of perfection; which though +perhaps strictly conformable to _rule_, can never touch the soul, or +please the unprejudiced taste, like one simple stroke of genuine nature. + +I have often observed, dear Julia, that an inaccurate use of words +produces such a strange confusion in all reasoning, that in the heat of +debate, the combatants, unable to distinguish their friends from their +foes, fall promiscuously on both. A skilful disputant knows well how to +take advantage of this confusion, and sometimes endeavours to create it. +I do not know whether I am to suspect you of such a design; but I must +guard against it. + +You have with great address availed yourself of the _two_ ideas +connected with the word _art_: first, as opposed to simplicity, it +implies artifice; and next, as opposed to ignorance, it comprehends +all the improvements of science, which leading us to search for general +causes, rewards us with a dominion over their dependent effects:--that +which instructs how to pursue the objects which we may have in view +with the greatest probability of success. All men who act from general +principles are so far philosophers. Their objects may be, when attained, +insufficient to their happiness, or they may not previously have known +all the necessary means to obtain them: but they must not therefore +complain, if they do not meet with success which they have no reason to +expect. + +Parrhasius, in collecting the most admired excellences from various +models, to produce perfection, concluded, from general principles +that mankind would be pleased again with what had once excited their +admiration.--So far he was a philosopher: but he was disappointed of +success:--yes, for he was ignorant of the cause necessary to produce it. +The separate features might be perfect, but they were unsuited to +each other, and in their forced union he could not give to the whole +countenance symmetry and an appropriate expression. + +There was, as you say, a _something_ wanting, which his science had +not taught him. He should then have set himself to examine what that +_something_ was, and how it was to be obtained. His want of success +arose from the _insufficiency_, not the _fallacy_, of theory. Your +object, dear Julia, we will suppose is "to please." If general +observation and experience have taught you, that slight accomplishments +and a trivial character succeed more certainly in obtaining this end, +than higher worth and sense, you act from principle in rejecting the +one and aiming at the other. You have discovered, or think you have +discovered, the secret causes which produce the desired effect, and you +employ them. Do not call this _instinct_ or _nature_; this also, though +you scorn it, is _philosophy_. + +But when you come soberly to reflect, you have a feeling in your mind, +that reason and cool judgment disapprove of the part you are acting. + +Let us, however, distinguish between disapprobation of the _object_, and +the means. + +Averse as enthusiasm is from the retrograde motion of analysis, let me, +my dear friend, lead you one step backward. + +_Why_ do you wish to please? I except at present from the question, the +desire to please, arising from a passion which requires a reciprocal +return. Confined as _this_ wish must be in a woman's heart to one object +alone, when you say, Julia, _that the admiration of others_ will be +absolutely necessary to your happiness, I must suppose you mean to +express only a _general_ desire to please? + +Then under this limitation--let me ask you again, why do you wish to +please? + +Do not let a word stop you. The word _vanity_ conveys to us +a disagreeable idea. There seems something _selfish_ in the +sentiment--that all the pleasure we feel in pleasing others arises from +the gratification it affords to our own _vanity_. + +We refine, and explain, and never can bring ourselves fairly to make +a confession, which we are sensible must lower us in the opinion of +others, and consequently mortify the very _vanity_ we would conceal. +So strangely then do we deceive ourselves as to deny the existence of a +motive, which at the instant prompts the denial. But let us, dear Julia, +exchange the word _vanity_ for a less odious word, self-complacency; let +us acknowledge that we wish to please, because the success raises our +self-complacency. If you ask why raising our self-approbation gives us +pleasure, I must answer, that I do not know. Yet I see and feel that +it does; I observe that the voice of numbers is capable of raising the +highest transport or the most fatal despair. The eye of man seems to +possess a fascinating power over his fellow-creatures, to raise the +blush of shame, or the glow of pride. + +I look around me, and I see riches, titles, dignities, pursued with such +eagerness by thousands, only as the signs of distinction. Nay, are not +all these things sacrificed the moment they cease to be distinctions? +The moment the prize of glory is to be won by other means, do not +millions sacrifice their fortunes, their peace, their health, their +lives, for _fame_? Then amongst the highest pleasures of human beings +I must place self-approbation. With this belief, let us endeavour to +secure it in the greatest extent, and to the longest duration. + +Then, Julia, the wish to please becomes only a secondary motive, +subordinate to the desire I have to secure my own self-complacency. We +will examine how far they are connected. + +In reflecting upon my own mind, I observe that I am flattered by the +opinion of others, in proportion to the opinion I have previously formed +of their judgment; or I perceive that the opinion of numbers, merely +as numbers, has power to give me great pleasure or great pain. I would +unite both these pleasures if I could, but in general I cannot--they +are incompatible. The opinion of the vulgar crowd and the enlightened +individual, the applause of the highest and the lowest of mankind, +cannot be obtained by the same means. + +Another question then arises,--whom shall we wish to please? We must +choose, and be decided in the choice. + +You say that you are proud; I am prouder.--You will be content with +indiscriminate admiration--nothing will content me but what is _select_. +As long as I have the use of my reason--as long as my heart can feel +the delightful sense of a "well-earned praise," I will fix my eye on the +highest pitch of excellence, and steadily endeavour to attain it. + +Conscious of her worth, and daring to assert it, I would have a woman +early in life know that she is capable of filling the heart of a man of +sense and merit; that she is worthy to be his companion and friend. With +all the energy of her soul, with all the powers of her understanding, I +would have a woman endeavour to please those whom she esteems and loves. + +She runs a risk, you will say, of never meeting her equal. Hearts and +understandings of a superior order are seldom met with in the world; +or when met with, it may not be a particular good fortune to win +them.--True; but if ever she _wins_, she will _keep_ them; and the prize +appears to me well worth the pains and difficulty of attaining. + +I, Julia, admire and feel enthusiasm; but I would have philosophy +directed to the highest objects. I dread apathy as much as you can; and +I would endeavour to prevent it, not by sacrificing half my existence, +but by enjoying the whole with moderation. + +You ask, why exercise does not increase sensibility, and why sympathy +with imaginary distress will not also increase the disposition to +sympathize with what is real?--Because pity should, I think, always +be associated with the active desire to relieve. If it be suffered to +become a _passive sensation_, it is a _useless weakness_, not a virtue. +The species of reading you speak of must be hurtful, even in this +respect, to the mind, as it indulges all the luxury of woe in sympathy +with fictitious distress, without requiring the exertion which reality +demands: besides, universal experience proves to us that habit, so far +from increasing sensibility, absolutely destroys it, by familiarizing it +with objects of compassion. + +Let me, my dear friend, appeal even to your own experience in the very +instance you mention. Is there any pathetic writer in the world who +could move you as much at the "twentieth reading as at the first[1]?" +Speak naturally, and at the third or fourth reading, you would probably +say, It is very pathetic, but I have read it before--I liked it better +the first time; that is to say, it _did_ touch me once--I know it +_ought_ to touch me now, but it _does not_. Beware of this! Do not let +life become _as tedious as a twice-told tale_. + +Farewell, dear Julia: this is the answer of fact against eloquence, +philosophy against enthusiasm. You appeal from my understanding to my +heart--I appeal from the heart to the understanding of my judge; and ten +years hence the decision perhaps will be in my favour. + +Yours sincerely, + +CAROLINE. + +[Footnote 1: Hume said, that Parnell's poems were as fresh at the +twentieth reading as at the first.] + + * * * * * + +LETTER III. + +CAROLINE TO JULIA. + +_On her intended marriage._ + + +Indeed, my dear Julia, I hardly know how to venture to give you my +advice upon a subject which ought to depend so much upon your own taste +and feelings. My opinion and my wishes I could readily tell you: the +idea of seeing you united and attached to my brother is certainly the +most agreeable to me; but I am to divest myself of the partiality of a +sister, and to consider my brother and Lord V---- as equal candidates +for your preference--equal, I mean, in your regard; for you say that +"Your heart is not yet decided in its choice.--If that oracle would +declare itself in intelligible terms, you would not hesitate a moment to +obey its dictates." But, my dear Julia, is there not another, a _safer_, +I do not say a _better_ oracle, to be consulted--your reason? Whilst the +"doubtful beam still nods from side to side," you may with a steady hand +weigh your own motives, and determine what things will be essential to +your happiness, and what _price_ you will pay for them; for + + "Each pleasure has its _price_; and they who pay + Too much of pain, but squander life away." + +Do me the justice to believe that I do not quote these lines of Dryden +as being the finest poetry he ever wrote; for poets, you know, as Waller +wittily observed, never succeed so well in truth as in fiction. + +Since we cannot in life expect to realize all our wishes, we must +distinguish those which claim the rank of wants. We must separate the +fanciful from the real, or at least make the one subservient to the +other. + +It is of the utmost importance to you, more particularly, to take +every precaution before you decide for life, because disappointment and +restraint afterwards would be insupportable to your temper. + +You have often declared to me, my dear friend, that your love of poetry, +and of all the refinements of literary and romantic pursuits, is so +intimately "interwoven in your mind, that nothing could separate them, +without destroying the whole fabric." + +Your tastes, you say, are fixed; if they are so, you must be doubly +careful to ensure their gratification. If you cannot make _them_ +subservient to external circumstances, you should certainly, if it be +in your power, choose a situation in which circumstances will be +subservient to them. If you are convinced that you could not adopt the +tastes of another, it will be absolutely necessary for your happiness to +live with one whose tastes are similar to your own. + +The belief in that sympathy of souls, which the poets suppose declares +itself between two people at first sight, is perhaps as absurd as the +late fashionable belief in animal magnetism: but there is a sympathy +which, if it be not the foundation, may be called the cement of +affection. Two people could not, I should think, retain any lasting +affection for each other, without a mutual sympathy in taste and in +their diurnal occupations and domestic pleasures. This, you will allow, +my dear Julia, even in a fuller extent than I do. Now, my brother's +tastes, character, and habits of life, are so very different from Lord +V----'s, that I scarcely know how you can compare them; at least before +you can decide which of the two would make you the happiest in life, you +must determine what kind of life you may wish to lead; for my brother, +though he might make you very happy in domestic life, would not make +the Countess of V---- happy; nor would Lord V---- make Mrs. Percy happy. +They must be two different women, with different habits, and different +wishes; so that you must divide yourself, my dear Julia, like Araspes, +into two selves; I do not say into a bad and a good self; choose some +other epithets to distinguish them, but distinct they must be: so let +them now declare and decide their pretensions; and let the victor have +not only the honours of a triumph, but all the prerogatives of +victory. Let the subdued be subdued for life--let the victor take every +precaution which policy can dictate, to prevent the possibility of +future contests with the vanquished. + +But without talking poetry to you, my dear friend, let me seriously +recommend it to you to examine your own mind carefully; and if you find +that public diversions and public admiration, dissipation, and all the +pleasures of riches and high rank, are really and truly essential to +your happiness, direct your choice accordingly. Marry Lord V----: he has +a large fortune, extensive connexions, and an exalted station; his own +taste for show and expense, his family pride, and personal vanity, will +all tend to the end you propose. Your house, table, equipages, may +be all in the highest style of magnificence. Lord V----'s easiness +of temper, and fondness for you, will readily give you that entire +ascendancy over his pleasures, which your abilities give you over his +understanding. He will not control your wishes; you may gratify them to +the utmost bounds of his fortune, and perhaps beyond those bounds; you +may have entire command at home and abroad. If these are your objects, +Julia, take them; they are in your power. But remember, you must take +them with their necessary concomitants--the restraints upon your time, +upon the choice of your friends and your company, which high life +imposes; the _ennui_ subsequent to dissipation; the mortifications +of rivalship in beauty, wit, rank, and magnificence; the trouble of +managing a large fortune, and the chance of involving your affairs and +your family in difficulty and distress; these and a thousand more evils +you must submit to. You must renounce all the pleasures of the heart and +of the imagination; you must give up the idea of cultivating literary +taste; you must not expect from your husband friendship and confidence, +or any of the delicacies of affection:--you govern him, he cannot +therefore be your equal; you may be a fond mother, but you cannot +educate your children; you will neither have the time nor the power +to do it; you must trust them to a governess. In the selection of your +friends, and in the enjoyment of their company and conversation, you +will be still more restrained: in short, you must give up the pleasures +of domestic life; for that is not in this case the life you have chosen. +But you will exclaim against me for supposing you capable of making such +a choice--such sacrifices!--I am sure, _next to my brother_, I am the +last person in the world who would wish you to make them. + +You have another choice, my dear Julia: domestic life is offered to you +by one who has every wish and every power to make it agreeable to you; +by one whose tastes resemble your own; who would be a judge and a fond +admirer of all your perfections. You would have perpetual motives to +cultivate every talent, and to exert every power of pleasing for his +sake--for _his_ sake, whose penetration no improvement would escape, +and whose affection would be susceptible of every proof of yours. Am I +drawing too flattering a picture?--A sister's hand may draw a partial +likeness, but still it will be a likeness. At all events, my dear Julia, +you would be certain of the mode of life you would lead with my brother. +The regulation of your time and occupations would be your own. In +the education of your family, you would meet with no interruptions or +restraint. You would have no governess to counteract, no strangers to +intrude; you might follow your own judgment, or yield to the judgment +of one who would never require you to submit to his opinion, but to his +reasons. + +All the pleasures of friendship you would enjoy in your own family in +the highest perfection, and you would have for your sister the friend of +your infancy, + +CAROLINE. + + * * * * * + +LETTER IV. + +CAROLINE TO LADY V----. + +_Upon her intended separation from her husband._ + + +You need not fear, my dear Lady V----, that I should triumph in the +accomplishment of my prophecies; or that I should reproach you for +having preferred your own opinion to my advice. Believe me, my dear +Julia, I am your friend, nor would the name of sister have increased my +friendship. + +Five years have made then so great a change in your feelings and views +of life, that a few days ago, when my letter to you on your marriage +accidentally fell into your hands, "_you were struck with a species of +astonishment at your choice, and you burst into tears in an agony of +despair, on reading the wretched doom foretold to the wife of Lord +V----. A doom,_" you add, "_which I feel hourly accomplishing, and which +I see no possibility of averting, but by a separation from a husband, +with whom, I now think, it was madness to unite myself._" Your opinion +I must already know upon this subject, "_as the same arguments which +should have prevented me from making such a choice, ought now to +determine me to abjure it._" + +You say, dear Julia, that my letter struck you with despair.--Despair +is either madness or folly; it obtains, it deserves nothing from mankind +but pity; and pity, though it be akin to love, has yet a secret affinity +to contempt. In strong minds, despair is an acute disease; the prelude +to great exertion. In weak minds, it is a chronic distemper, followed +by incurable indolence. Let the crisis be favourable, and resume your +wonted energy. Instead of suffering the imagination to dwell with +unavailing sorrow on the past, let us turn our attention towards the +future. When an evil is irremediable, let us acknowledge it to be such, +and bear it:--there is no power to which we submit so certainly as +to necessity. With our hopes, our wishes cease. Imagination has a +contracting, as well as an expansive faculty. The prisoner, who, +deprived of all that we conceive to constitute the pleasures of life, +could interest or occupy himself with the labours of a spider, was +certainly a philosopher. He enjoyed all the means of happiness that were +left in his power. + +I know, my dear Lady V----, that words have little effect over grief; +and I do not, I assure you, mean to insult you with the parade of stoic +philosophy. But consider, your error is not perhaps so great as you +imagine. Certainly, they who at the beginning of life can with a steady +eye look through the long perspective of distant years, who can in one +view comprise all the different objects of happiness and misery, who +can compare accurately, and justly estimate their respective degrees of +importance; and who, after having formed such a calculation, are capable +of acting uniformly, in consequence of their own conviction, are +the _wisest_, and, as far as prudence can influence our fortune, the +_happiest_ of human beings. Next to this favoured class are those who +can perceive and repair their own errors; who can stop at any given +period to take a new view of life. If unfortunate circumstances have +denied you a place in the first rank, you may, dear Julia, secure +yourself a station in the second. Is not the conduct of a woman, after +her marriage, of infinitely more importance than her previous choice, +whatever it may have been? Then now consider what yours should be. + +You say that it is easier to _break_ a chain than to _stretch_ it; but +remember that when broken, your part of the chain, Julia, will still +remain with you, and fetter and disgrace you through life. Why should a +woman be so circumspect in her choice? Is it not because when once made +she must abide by it? "She sets her life upon the cast, and she must +stand the hazard of the die." From domestic uneasiness a man has a +thousand resources: in middling life, the tavern, in high life, the +gaming-table, suspends the anxiety of thought. Dissipation, ambition, +business, the occupation of a profession, change of place, change +of company, afford him agreeable and honourable relief from domestic +chagrin. If his home become tiresome, he leaves it; if his wife become +disagreeable to him, he leaves her, and in leaving her loses _only_ a +wife. But what resource has a woman?--Precluded from all the occupations +common to the other sex, she loses even those peculiar to her own. She +has no remedy, from the company of a man she dislikes, but a separation; +and this remedy, desperate as it is, is allowed only to a certain class +of women in society; to those whose fortune affords them the means +of subsistence, and whose friends have secured to them a separate +maintenance. A peeress then, probably, can leave her husband if she +wish it; a peasant's wife cannot; she depends upon the character and +privileges of a wife for actual subsistence. Her domestic care, if not +her affection, is secured to her husband; and it is just that it should. +He sacrifices his liberty, his labour, his ingenuity, his time, for the +support and protection of his wife; and in proportion to his protection +is his power. + +In higher life, where the sacrifices of both parties in the original +union are more equal, the evils of a separation are more nearly +balanced. But even here, the wife who has hazarded least, suffers the +most by the dissolution of the partnership; she loses a great part of +her fortune, and of the conveniences and luxuries of life. She loses +her home, her rank in society. She loses both the repellant and the +attractive power of a mistress of a family. "Her occupation is gone." +She becomes a wanderer. Whilst her youth and beauty last, she may enjoy +that species of delirium, caused by public admiration; fortunate if +habit does not destroy the power of this charm, before the season of +its duration expire. It was said to be the wish of a celebrated modern +beauty, "that she might not survive her nine-and-twentieth birth-day." +I have often heard this wish quoted for its extravagance; but I always +admired it for its good sense. The lady foresaw the inevitable doom of +her declining years. Her apprehensions for the future embittered even +her enjoyment of the present; and she had resolution enough to offer to +take "a bond of fate," to sacrifice one-half of her life, to secure the +pleasure of the other. + +But, dear Lady V----, probably this wish was made at some distance +from the destined period of its accomplishment. On the eve of her +nine-and-twentieth birth-day, the lady perhaps might have felt inclined +to retract her prayer. At least we should provide for the cowardice +which might seize the female mind at such an instant. Even the most +wretched life has power to attach us; none can be more wretched than +the old age of a dissipated beauty:--unless, Lady V----, it be that of +a woman, who, to all her evils has the addition of remorse, for having +abjured her duties and abandoned her family. Such is the situation of +a woman who separates from her husband. Reduced to go the same insipid +round of public amusements, yet more restrained than an unmarried beauty +in youth, yet more miserable in age, the superiority of her genius and +the sensibility of her heart become her greatest evils. She, indeed, +must pray for indifference. Avoided by all her family connexions, hated +and despised where she might have been loved and respected, solitary +in the midst of society, she feels herself deserted at the time of life +when she most wants social comfort and assistance. + +Dear Julia, whilst it is yet in your power secure to yourself a happier +fate; retire to the bosom of your own family; prepare for yourself a new +society; perform the duties, and you shall soon enjoy the pleasures of +domestic life; educate your children; whilst they are young, it shall +be your occupation; as they grow up, it shall be your glory. Let me +anticipate your future success, when they shall appear such as you can +make them; when the world shall ask "who educated these amiable young +women? Who formed their character? Who cultivated the talents of this +promising young man? Why does this whole family live together in such +perfect union?" With one voice, dear Julia, your children shall name +their mother; she who in the bloom of youth checked herself in the +career of dissipation, and turned all the ability and energy of her mind +to their education. + +Such will be your future fame. In the mean time, before you have formed +for yourself companions in your own family, you will want a society +suited to your taste. "Disgusted as you have been with frivolous +company, you say that you wish to draw around you a society of literary +and estimable friends, whose conversation and talents shall delight +you, and who at the same time that they are excited to display their own +abilities, shall be a judge of yours." + +But, dear Lady V----, the possibility of your forming such a society +must depend on your having a home to receive, a character and +consequence in life to invite and attach friends. The opinion of numbers +is necessary to excite the ambition of individuals. To be a female +Mecaenas you must have power to confer favours, as well as judgment to +discern merit. + +What castles in the air are built by the synthetic wand of imagination, +which vanish when exposed to the analysis of reason! + +Then, Julia, supposing that Lord V----, as your husband, becomes a +negative quantity as to your happiness, yet he will acquire another +species of value as the master of your family and the father of your +children; as a person who supports your public consequence, and your +private self-complacency. Yes, dear Lady V----, he will increase your +self-complacency; for do you not think, that when your husband sees +his children prosper under your care, his family united under your +management--whilst he feels your merit at home, and hears your praises +abroad, do you not think he will himself learn to respect and love you? +You say that "_he is not a judge of female excellence; that he has no +real taste; that vanity is his ruling passion_." Then if his judgment be +dependent on the opinions of others, he will be the more easily led by +the public voice, and you will command the suffrages of the public. If +he has not taste enough to approve, he will have vanity enough to be +proud of you; and a vain man insensibly begins to love that of which +he is proud. Why does Lord V---- love his buildings, his paintings, his +equipages? It is not for their intrinsic value; but because they are +means of distinction to him. Let his wife become a greater distinction +to him, and on the same principles he will prefer her. Set an example, +then, dear Lady V----, of domestic virtue; your talents shall make it +admired, your rank shall make it conspicuous. You are ambitious, Julia, +you love praise; you have been used to it; you cannot live happily +without it. + +Praise is a mental luxury, which becomes from habit absolutely necessary +to our existence; and in purchasing it we must pay the price set upon +it by society. The more curious, the more avaricious we become of this +"aerial coin," the more it is our interest to preserve its currency and +increase its value. You, my dear Julia, in particular, who have amassed +so much of it, should not cry down its price, for your own sake!--Do not +then say in a fit of disgust, that "you are grown too wise now to value +applause." + +If, during youth, your appetite for applause was indiscriminate, and +indulged to excess, you are now more difficult in your choice, and are +become an _epicure_ in your _taste_ for praise. + +Adieu, my dear Julia; I hope still to see you as happy in domestic life +as + +Your ever affectionate and sincere friend, + +CAROLINE. + + * * * * * + +LETTER V. + +CAROLINE TO LADY V----. + +_On her conduct after her separation from her husband._ + + +A delicacy, of which I now begin to repent, has of late prevented me +from writing to you. I am afraid I shall be abrupt, but it is necessary +to be explicit. Your conduct, ever since your separation from your +husband, has been anxiously watched from a variety of motives, by his +family and your own;--it has been blamed. Reflect upon your own mind, +and examine with what justice. + +Last summer, when I was with you, I observed a change in your +conversation, and the whole turn of your thoughts. I perceived an +unusual impatience of restraint; a confusion in your ideas when you +began to reason,--an eloquence in your language when you began to +declaim, which convinced me that from some secret cause the powers of +your reason had been declining, and those of your imagination rapidly +increasing; the boundaries of right and wrong seemed to be no longer +marked in your mind. Neither the rational hope of happiness, nor a sense +of duty governed you; but some unknown, wayward power seemed to have +taken possession of your understanding, and to have thrown every thing +into confusion. You appeared peculiarly averse to philosophy: let me +recall your own words to you; you asked "of what use philosophy could be +to beings who had no free will, and how the ideas of just punishment and +involuntary crime could be reconciled?" + +Your understanding involved itself in metaphysical absurdity. In +conversing upon literary subjects one evening, in speaking of the +striking difference between the conduct and the understanding of the +great Lord Bacon, you said, that "It by no means surprised you; that +to an enlarged mind, accustomed to consider the universe as one vast +_whole_, the conduct of that little animated atom, that inconsiderable +part _self_, must be too insignificant to fix or merit attention. It was +nothing," you said, "in the general mass of vice and virtue, happiness +and misery." I believe I answered, "that it might be _nothing_ compared +to the great _whole_, but it was _every thing_ to the individual." Such +were your opinions in theory; you must know enough of the human heart to +perceive their tendency when reduced to practice. Speculative opinions, +I know, have little influence over the practice of those who _act_ much +and think little; but I should conceive their power to be considerable +over the conduct of those who have much time for reflection and little +necessity for action. In one case the habit of action governs the +thoughts upon any sudden emergency; in the other, the thoughts govern +the actions. The truth or falsehood then of speculative opinions is of +much greater consequence to our sex than to the other; as we live a life +of reflection, they of action. + +Retrace, then, dear Julia, in your mind the course of your thoughts for +some time past; discover the cause of this revolution in your opinions; +judge yourself; and remember, that in the _mind_ as well as in the body, +the highest pitch of disease is often attended with an unconsciousness +of its existence. If, then, Lady V----, upon receiving my letter, you +should feel averse to this self-examination, or if you should imagine +it to be useless, I no longer advise, I command you to quit your present +abode; come to me: fly from the danger, and be safe. + +Dear Julia, I must assume this peremptory tone: if you are angry, I must +disregard your anger; it is the anger of disease, the anger of one who +is roused from that sleep which would end in death. + +I respect the equality of friendship; but this equality permits, nay +requires, the temporary ascendancy I assume. In real friendship, the +judgment, the genius, the prudence of each party become the common +property of both. Even if they are equals, they may not be so _always_. +Those transient fits of passion, to which the best and wisest are +liable, may deprive even the superior of the advantage of their reason. +She then has still in her friend an _impartial_, though perhaps an +inferior judgment; each becomes the guardian of the other, as their +mutual safety may require. + +Heaven seems to have granted this double chance of virtue and happiness, +as the peculiar reward of friendship. + +Use it, then, my dear friend; accept the assistance you could so well +return. Obey me; I shall judge of you by your resolution at this crisis: +on it depends your fate, and my friendship. + +Your sincere and affectionate CAROLINE. + + * * * * * + +LETTER VI. + +CAROLINE TO LADY V----. + +_Just before she went to France_. + + +The time is now come, Lady V----, when I must bid you an eternal adieu. +With what deep regret, I need not, Julia, I cannot tell you. + +I burned your letter the moment I had read it. Your past confidence I +never will betray; but I must renounce all future intercourse with you. +I am a sister, a wife, a mother; all these connexions forbid me to be +longer your friend. In misfortune, in sickness, or in poverty, I never +would have forsaken you; but infamy I cannot share. I would have gone, +I went, to the brink of the precipice to save you; with all my force +I held you back; but in vain. But why do I vindicate my conduct to +you now? Accustomed as I have always been to think your approbation +necessary to my happiness, I forgot that henceforward your opinion is to +be nothing to me, or mine to you. + +Oh, Julia! the idea, the certainty, that you must, if you live, be in +a few years, in a few months, perhaps, reduced to absolute want, in a +foreign country--without a friend--a protector, the fate of women who +have fallen from a state as high as yours, the names of L----, of G----, +the horror I feel at joining your name to theirs, impels me to make one +more attempt to save you. + +Companion of my earliest years! friend of my youth! my beloved Julia! by +the happy innocent hours we have spent together, by the love you had for +me, by the respect you bear to the memory of your mother, by the agony +with which your father will hear of the loss of his daughter, by all +that has power to touch your mind--I conjure you, I implore you to +pause!--Farewell! + +CAROLINE. + + * * * * * + +LETTER VII. + +CAROLINE TO LORD V----. + +_Written a few months after the date of the preceding letter._ + + +My lord, + +Though I am too sensible that all connexion between my unfortunate +friend and her family must for some time have been dissolved, I venture +now to address myself to your lordship. + +On Wednesday last, about half after six o'clock in the evening, the +following note was brought to me. It had been written with such a +trembling hand that it was scarcely legible; but I knew the writing too +well. + + * * * * * + +"If you ever loved me, Caroline, read this--do not tear it the moment +you see the name of Julia: she has suffered--she is humbled. I left +France with the hope of seeing you once more; but now I am so near you, +my courage fails, and my heart sinks within me. I have no friend upon +earth--I deserve none; yet I cannot help wishing to see, once more +before I die, the friend of my youth, to thank her with my last breath. + +"But, dear Caroline, if I must not see you, write to me, if possible, +one line of consolation. + +"Tell me, is my father living--do you know any thing of my children?--I +dare not ask for my husband. Adieu! I am so weak that I can scarcely +write--I hope I shall soon be no more. Farewell! + +"JULIA." + + +I immediately determined to follow the bearer of this letter. Julia was +waiting for my answer at a small inn in a neighbouring village, at a +few miles' distance. It was night when I got there: every thing was +silent--all the houses were shut up, excepting one, in which we saw two +or three lights glimmering through the window--this was the inn: as your +lordship may imagine, it was a very miserable place. The mistress of the +house seemed to be touched with pity for the stranger: she opened the +door of a small room, where she said the poor lady was resting; and +retired as I entered. + +Upon a low matted seat beside the fire sat Lady V----; she was in black; +her knees were crossed, and her white but emaciated arms flung on one +side over her lap; her hands were clasped together, and her eyes fixed +upon the fire: she seemed neither to hear nor see any thing round +her, but, totally absorbed in her own reflections, to have sunk into +insensibility. I dreaded to rouse her from this state of torpor; and +I believe I stood for some moments motionless: at last I moved softly +towards her--she turned her head--started up--a scarlet blush overspread +her face--she grew livid again instantly, gave a faint shriek, and sunk +senseless into my arms. + +When she returned to herself, and found her head lying upon my shoulder, +and heard my voice soothing her with all the expressions of kindness I +could think of, she smiled with a look of gratitude, which I never shall +forget. Like one who had been long unused to kindness, she seemed ready +to pour forth all the fondness of her heart: but, as if recollecting +herself better, she immediately checked her feelings--withdrew her hand +from mine--thanked me--said she was quite well again--cast down her +eyes, and her manner changed from tenderness to timidity. She seemed +to think that she had lost all right to sympathy, and received even the +common offices of humanity with surprise: her high spirit, I saw, was +quite broken. + +I think I never felt such sorrow as I did in contemplating Julia at +this instant: she who stood before me, sinking under the sense +of inferiority, I knew to be my equal--my superior; yet by fatal +imprudence, by one rash step, all her great, and good, and amiable +qualities were irretrievably lost to the world and to herself. + +When I thought that she was a little recovered, I begged of her, if she +was not too much fatigued, to let me carry her home. At these words +she looked at me with surprise. Her eyes filled with tears; but without +making any other reply, she suffered me to draw her arm within mine, and +attempted to follow me. I did not know how feeble she was till she began +to walk; it was with the utmost difficulty I supported her to the door; +and by the assistance of the people of the house she was lifted into the +carriage: we went very slowly. When the carriage stopped she was seized +with an universal tremor; she started when the man knocked at the door, +and seemed to dread its being opened. The appearance of light and the +sound of cheerful voices struck her with horror. + +I could not myself help being shocked with the contrast between the +dreadful situation of my friend, and the happiness of the family to +which I was returning. + +"Oh!" said she, "what are these voices?--Whither are you taking me?--For +Heaven's sake do not let any body see me!" + +I assured her that she should go directly to her own apartment, and that +no human being should approach her without her express permission. + +Alas! it happened at this very moment that all my children came +running with the utmost gaiety into the hall to meet us, and the very +circumstance which I had been so anxious to prevent happened--little +Julia was amongst them. The gaiety of the children suddenly ceased the +moment they saw Lady V---- coming up the steps--they were struck with +her melancholy air and countenance: she, leaning upon my arm, with her +eyes fixed upon the ground, let me lead her in, and sunk upon the first +chair she came to. I made a sign to the children to retire; but the +moment they began to move, Lady V---- looked up--saw her daughter--and +now for the first time burst into tears The little girl did not +recollect her poor mother till she heard the sound of her voice; and +then she threw her arms round her neck, crying, "Is it you, mamma?"--and +all the children immediately crowded round and asked, "if this was the +same Lady V---- who used to play with them?" + +It is impossible to describe the effect these simple questions had on +Julia: a variety of emotions seemed struggling in her countenance; she +rose and made an attempt to break from the children, but could not--she +had not strength to support herself. We carried her away and put her to +bed; she took no notice of any body, nor did she even seem to know that +I was with her: I thought she was insensible, but as I drew the curtains +I heard her give a deep sigh. + +I left her, and carried away her little girl, who had followed us up +stairs and begged to stay with her mother; but I was apprehensive that +the sight of her might renew her agitation. + +After I was gone, they told me that she was perfectly still, with her +eyes closed; and I stayed away some time in hopes that she might sleep: +however, about midnight she sent to beg to speak to me: she was very +ill--she beckoned to me to sit down by her bedside--every one left the +room; and when Julia saw herself alone with me, she took my hand, and in +a low but calm voice she said, "I have not many hours to live--my heart +is broken--I wished to see you, to thank you whilst it was yet in my +power." She pressed my hand to her trembling lips: "Your kindness," +added she, "touches me more than all the rest; but how ashamed you must +be of such a friend! Oh, Caroline! to die a disgrace to all who ever +loved me!" + +The tears trickled down her face, and choked her utterance: she wiped +them away hastily. "But it is not now a time," said she, "to think of +myself--can I see my daughter?" The little girl was asleep: she was +awakened, and I brought her to her mother. Julia raised herself in her +bed, and summoning up all her strength, "My dearest friend!" said she, +putting her child's hand into mine, "when I am gone, be a mother to this +child--let her know my whole history, let nothing be concealed from her. +Poor girl! you will live to blush at your mother's name." She paused and +leaned back: I was going to take the child away, but she held out her +arms again for her, and kissed her several times. "Farewell!" said she; +"I shall never see you again." The little girl burst into tears. Julia +wished to say something more--she raised herself again--at last she +uttered these words with energy:--"My love, _be good and happy_;" +she then sunk down on the pillow quite exhausted--she never spoke +afterwards: I took her hand--it was cold--her pulse scarcely beat--her +eyes rolled without meaning--in a few moments she expired. + +Painful as it has been to me to recall the circumstances of her death +to my imagination, I have given your lordship this exact and detailed +account of my unfortunate friend's behaviour in her last moments. +Whatever may have been her errors, her soul never became callous from +vice. The sense of her own ill conduct, was undoubtedly the immediate +cause of her illness, and the remorse which had long preyed upon her +mind, at length brought her to the grave-- + +I have the honour to be, My lord, &c. CAROLINE. + + +_Written in 1787._ _Published in 1795._ + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales And Novels, Volume 8 (of 10), by +Maria Edgeworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES AND NOVELS, VOLUME 8 (OF 10) *** + +***** This file should be named 9321.txt or 9321.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/2/9321/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, William Flis, and Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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