Chapter 10
Page 248
CHAP. X.
A Battle between Love and Honour.
WHILE the Lovers were flattering themselves that now nothing could prevent their Union, and Lady Dellwyn was enjoying already in Thought her returning again into the World, without the Apprehensions she now laboured under of Discovery, Monsieur D’Orville's Father was far advanced on his Road to Paris; whither the Letter, which contained an Account of Lady Dellwyn's Infamy, brought him, with a Speed but ill-suited to his Age, or usual Method of Proceeding; and he arrived in Town the Evening before his Son's intended Nuptials.
When
Page 249
When he arrived at his House, he was informed that his Son was at Lady Dellwyn's. He immediately sent to require his Presence; a Message which threw the young Gentleman, as well as Lady Dellwyn, into the greatest Consternation, tho' she endeavoured to the utmost of her Power to conceal her Emotions. The same Thought struck them both instantly: They imagined that the Scandal so current about her had reached his Ears; and Monsieur D’Orville was scarcely able to obey the Summons.
Lady Dellwyn, not less shocked, but thinking it necessary to appear with all the Fearlessness of Innocence, endeavoured to encourage him. But the little, which, in the Anxiety of her Mind, she was capable of urging, had no other Effect on him, than that, by an unusual Tenderness in her Behaviour to him, his Chain was rivetted yet faster; and he took Leave of her with the utmost Agony, and with re-
M 5 peated
Page 250
peated Vows on both Sides, that the next Morning should put it out of the Power of any one ever to divide them from each other.
Not all their Vows could suppress Lady Dellwyn's tormenting Fears, nor encourage Monsieur D’Orville to appear before his Father with any Degree of Composure. He went like a Criminal before his Judge; tho' with this Difference, that his greatest Grief arose from the Consideration, that his Crime was only intended, and not yet committed.
The old Gentleman had composed an Harangue upon the Road: The Text was, The Honour of his Family. Tho' he plainly saw his Son's Distress and Impatience to know what brought him to Paris, yet he could not prevail on himself to cut short his Composition. Elaborate and tedious as it was, Monsieur D’Orville was obliged to fit it all; for hear it he did not.
As
Page 251
As soon as he found the Drift of his Father's Discourse, his Apprehensions were thoroughly confirmed; and therefore, till he came to the Conclusion, he was sensible that he was not much concerned; and whilst the good Gentleman was expatiating on: the inestimable Value of Honour and Dignity of Family, expressing almost more than Caesar- like Delicacy on the Subject, his Son took the Liberty to substitute the Word Love in its place; and, letting his Imagination run on the Charms of that Passion, heard not one Syllable of all the intermediate Part of his Father's. Discourse; till he was indeed thoroughly awakened by the Conclusion; it containing a positive Prohibition ever to see Lady Dellwyn more, on pain of his Father's utmost Displeasure.
Monsieur D’Orville declared the Impossibility of his Obedience; that his Life and Love were so interwoven, that whoever cut the Thread of the one, must put an End to the other; with a
M6 whole
Page 252
whole String of those ingenious Metaphors and Bombast, with which People have endeavoured to give an unnatural Air to perhaps the most natural Passion in all our Composition.
Upon this the Conversation grew rather too animated. These Champions for Love and Honour did not argue the Matter with the Gentleness and Good-breeding of Prince Volscius. The Father forgot the Dignity of Age, tho' as deserving of Regard as the Dignity of Family; and the Son found some Difficulty in remembering the Respect due to his Father. Like most Disputants, they talked much, and prevailed little.
Monsieur D’Orville had too much Love to relinquish his Hopes; and would by no means make his Father a Promise which he did not so much as intend to keep, as he was not only engaged by the strictest Vows to Lady Dellwyn, but also by that most pre-
vailing
Page 253
vailing Argument, the strongest Inclinations.
Great Part of the Night passed in this Contention. When Love and Honour are engaged in a Contest, it is often seen that the former obtains a speedier Victory. They may hold out pretty well in distant Skirmishes; but, when they come to close Combat, Honour is often sent halting off. But here it had a stout Champion, who at least made out in Perseverance what he might want in Warmth of his younger Adversary. As neither Side received much Satisfaction in the Dispute, they were at last willing to postpone a Conclusion, which seemed as far off as when they began. The old Gentleman proposed the retiring to their Apartments for that Night; to which the other consented, tho' he had not so strong an Inducement as his Father; who was
Fatigued
with
Page 254
with his Journey, and wanted Repose.
Monsieur D’Orville retired indeed, but not to rest. It was scarcely possible for a Mind to be in greater Perturbation than his. He grieved at the Thought of so totally offending his Father as to marry Lady Dellwyn, after he had declared himself so absolutely averse to it, and had protested he would never after such a Marriage look on him as his Son. It is true, the greatest Part of his Estate was settled beyond his Power to alter; but that rather made Monsieur D’Orville the more unwilling to disobey him. He saw himself in this Case doubly ungenerous, at least in Appearance. Had his Ruin depended on his Disobedience, it would have worn the Air of a noble Constancy, very flattering to a romantic Passion.
Here again Love and Honour engaged, but not on such equal Terms.
One
Page 255
One Heart was the Field of Battle; and there the weaker Combatant seldom finds room to exert his Strength. Besides, Love contrived to draw off some of Honour's Forces, by urging that Honour was bound as much to the Mistress as the Father. By this means it obtained a compleat Victory; and Monsieur D’Orville, after a long Debate, was at last derminined to marry Lady Dellwyn the next Morning.
Tho' nothing is so painful as Irresolution; yet Monsieur D’Orville was not quite easy in his Determination. From some things his Father had said, he could not help entertaining some intruding Fears, left the Reports concerning Lady Dellweyn should have any Foundation in Truth; tho' he scarcely durst utter these Suspicions to himself. He endeavoured to collect some Satisfaction, by reflecting on her Behaviour since she came to Paris. He could discover nothing in it that was not entirely proper; but it was impossible for
8 even
Page 256
even his Blindness to make this into any certain Proof of the past. She had not been long there; a designing Woman might watch over her Conduct for a longer Time.
This Thought had a quite contrary Effect from what a reasonable Person who was in Love might have expected; for tho' he could allow that an artful Woman might have done so; yet he could never acknowlege, even in the softest inward Whispers, that Lady Dellwyn was an artful Woman. He thought, amiable as she was, she might be guilty of some Frailties, but was greatly superior to all low Cunning. Art and Design his Nature abhorred; and therefore he could not suppose any one practised them whom he esteemed.
Having acquitted her one by one of every Crime which he deemed to be the Marks of a black Mind, his Apprehensions abated. Some small In-
Discretions
Page 257
discretions were a sufficient Foundation whereon Malice might build a great Pile of Scandal; and yet those he could readily forgive. Such Beauty, like the fair Hesperian Fruit, required an Argus to watch it, if every Foible was to be swelled into a Crime.
In these Thoughts Monsieur D'Orville passed the Night, not attempting to go to Bed, or take any Rest. But when he thought the Hour approached that he might wait on his intended Bride, he rang for his Servant to assist him in dressing fit for the Occasion; when, instead of his own, entered his Father's Valet de Chambre, who, with the utmost Politeness, informed him he was a Prisoner; for that his Father had in the Night sent for a Guard, who were placed at the Door of his Apartment, with strict Orders not even to admit his Servants. Now was Monsieur D’Orville more furious than Bajazet in his Cage. A
more
Page 258
more patient Man might indeed have it difficult to have borne such a Disappointment with any tolerable Degree of Composure. But we shall leave him to vent his Rage alone, while we take a View of Lady Dellwyn.
Her Ladyship had passed as restless a Night as her Lover; nor was Miss Weare able to give her much Consolation, her Apprehensions being not in any Degree less uneasy. She had considered Lady Dellwyn's Establishment in France as a fortunate Event for her. They were on very friendly Terms; and she hoped an agreeable Asylum at her House at least for some time longer; but could not fix with her in London, without giving up every Pretension to Character; which, as Friendship, built on any other Foundation than that of a well-grounded Esteem, is not the most stable of any thing even in this changeable World, was a very hazardous Step.
Thus
Page 259
Thus was Miss Weare's Interest in this Affair closely connected with Lady Dellwyn's; and therefore her Uneasiness was not much inferior to her Ladyship's, who beheld so great a Proof of Friendship with Gratitude, and expressed herself much obliged for the kind Concern she shewed for her. Miss Weare was too prudent to lose the Merit by explaining all the Cause of her Sympathy with her: But on the contrary, she confirmed it by strong Professions of her Attachment which was in some measure real.
CHAP.
CHAP. X.
A Battle between Love and Honour.
WHILE the Lovers were flattering themselves that now nothing could prevent their Union, and Lady Dellwyn was enjoying already in Thought her returning again into the World, without the Apprehensions she now laboured under of Discovery, Monsieur D’Orville's Father was far advanced on his Road to Paris; whither the Letter, which contained an Account of Lady Dellwyn's Infamy, brought him, with a Speed but ill-suited to his Age, or usual Method of Proceeding; and he arrived in Town the Evening before his Son's intended Nuptials.
When
Page 249
When he arrived at his House, he was informed that his Son was at Lady Dellwyn's. He immediately sent to require his Presence; a Message which threw the young Gentleman, as well as Lady Dellwyn, into the greatest Consternation, tho' she endeavoured to the utmost of her Power to conceal her Emotions. The same Thought struck them both instantly: They imagined that the Scandal so current about her had reached his Ears; and Monsieur D’Orville was scarcely able to obey the Summons.
Lady Dellwyn, not less shocked, but thinking it necessary to appear with all the Fearlessness of Innocence, endeavoured to encourage him. But the little, which, in the Anxiety of her Mind, she was capable of urging, had no other Effect on him, than that, by an unusual Tenderness in her Behaviour to him, his Chain was rivetted yet faster; and he took Leave of her with the utmost Agony, and with re-
M 5 peated
Page 250
peated Vows on both Sides, that the next Morning should put it out of the Power of any one ever to divide them from each other.
Not all their Vows could suppress Lady Dellwyn's tormenting Fears, nor encourage Monsieur D’Orville to appear before his Father with any Degree of Composure. He went like a Criminal before his Judge; tho' with this Difference, that his greatest Grief arose from the Consideration, that his Crime was only intended, and not yet committed.
The old Gentleman had composed an Harangue upon the Road: The Text was, The Honour of his Family. Tho' he plainly saw his Son's Distress and Impatience to know what brought him to Paris, yet he could not prevail on himself to cut short his Composition. Elaborate and tedious as it was, Monsieur D’Orville was obliged to fit it all; for hear it he did not.
As
Page 251
As soon as he found the Drift of his Father's Discourse, his Apprehensions were thoroughly confirmed; and therefore, till he came to the Conclusion, he was sensible that he was not much concerned; and whilst the good Gentleman was expatiating on: the inestimable Value of Honour and Dignity of Family, expressing almost more than Caesar- like Delicacy on the Subject, his Son took the Liberty to substitute the Word Love in its place; and, letting his Imagination run on the Charms of that Passion, heard not one Syllable of all the intermediate Part of his Father's. Discourse; till he was indeed thoroughly awakened by the Conclusion; it containing a positive Prohibition ever to see Lady Dellwyn more, on pain of his Father's utmost Displeasure.
Monsieur D’Orville declared the Impossibility of his Obedience; that his Life and Love were so interwoven, that whoever cut the Thread of the one, must put an End to the other; with a
M6 whole
Page 252
whole String of those ingenious Metaphors and Bombast, with which People have endeavoured to give an unnatural Air to perhaps the most natural Passion in all our Composition.
Upon this the Conversation grew rather too animated. These Champions for Love and Honour did not argue the Matter with the Gentleness and Good-breeding of Prince Volscius. The Father forgot the Dignity of Age, tho' as deserving of Regard as the Dignity of Family; and the Son found some Difficulty in remembering the Respect due to his Father. Like most Disputants, they talked much, and prevailed little.
Monsieur D’Orville had too much Love to relinquish his Hopes; and would by no means make his Father a Promise which he did not so much as intend to keep, as he was not only engaged by the strictest Vows to Lady Dellwyn, but also by that most pre-
vailing
Page 253
vailing Argument, the strongest Inclinations.
Great Part of the Night passed in this Contention. When Love and Honour are engaged in a Contest, it is often seen that the former obtains a speedier Victory. They may hold out pretty well in distant Skirmishes; but, when they come to close Combat, Honour is often sent halting off. But here it had a stout Champion, who at least made out in Perseverance what he might want in Warmth of his younger Adversary. As neither Side received much Satisfaction in the Dispute, they were at last willing to postpone a Conclusion, which seemed as far off as when they began. The old Gentleman proposed the retiring to their Apartments for that Night; to which the other consented, tho' he had not so strong an Inducement as his Father; who was
Fatigued
with
Page 254
with his Journey, and wanted Repose.
Monsieur D’Orville retired indeed, but not to rest. It was scarcely possible for a Mind to be in greater Perturbation than his. He grieved at the Thought of so totally offending his Father as to marry Lady Dellwyn, after he had declared himself so absolutely averse to it, and had protested he would never after such a Marriage look on him as his Son. It is true, the greatest Part of his Estate was settled beyond his Power to alter; but that rather made Monsieur D’Orville the more unwilling to disobey him. He saw himself in this Case doubly ungenerous, at least in Appearance. Had his Ruin depended on his Disobedience, it would have worn the Air of a noble Constancy, very flattering to a romantic Passion.
Here again Love and Honour engaged, but not on such equal Terms.
One
Page 255
One Heart was the Field of Battle; and there the weaker Combatant seldom finds room to exert his Strength. Besides, Love contrived to draw off some of Honour's Forces, by urging that Honour was bound as much to the Mistress as the Father. By this means it obtained a compleat Victory; and Monsieur D’Orville, after a long Debate, was at last derminined to marry Lady Dellwyn the next Morning.
Tho' nothing is so painful as Irresolution; yet Monsieur D’Orville was not quite easy in his Determination. From some things his Father had said, he could not help entertaining some intruding Fears, left the Reports concerning Lady Dellweyn should have any Foundation in Truth; tho' he scarcely durst utter these Suspicions to himself. He endeavoured to collect some Satisfaction, by reflecting on her Behaviour since she came to Paris. He could discover nothing in it that was not entirely proper; but it was impossible for
8 even
Page 256
even his Blindness to make this into any certain Proof of the past. She had not been long there; a designing Woman might watch over her Conduct for a longer Time.
This Thought had a quite contrary Effect from what a reasonable Person who was in Love might have expected; for tho' he could allow that an artful Woman might have done so; yet he could never acknowlege, even in the softest inward Whispers, that Lady Dellwyn was an artful Woman. He thought, amiable as she was, she might be guilty of some Frailties, but was greatly superior to all low Cunning. Art and Design his Nature abhorred; and therefore he could not suppose any one practised them whom he esteemed.
Having acquitted her one by one of every Crime which he deemed to be the Marks of a black Mind, his Apprehensions abated. Some small In-
Discretions
Page 257
discretions were a sufficient Foundation whereon Malice might build a great Pile of Scandal; and yet those he could readily forgive. Such Beauty, like the fair Hesperian Fruit, required an Argus to watch it, if every Foible was to be swelled into a Crime.
In these Thoughts Monsieur D'Orville passed the Night, not attempting to go to Bed, or take any Rest. But when he thought the Hour approached that he might wait on his intended Bride, he rang for his Servant to assist him in dressing fit for the Occasion; when, instead of his own, entered his Father's Valet de Chambre, who, with the utmost Politeness, informed him he was a Prisoner; for that his Father had in the Night sent for a Guard, who were placed at the Door of his Apartment, with strict Orders not even to admit his Servants. Now was Monsieur D’Orville more furious than Bajazet in his Cage. A
more
Page 258
more patient Man might indeed have it difficult to have borne such a Disappointment with any tolerable Degree of Composure. But we shall leave him to vent his Rage alone, while we take a View of Lady Dellwyn.
Her Ladyship had passed as restless a Night as her Lover; nor was Miss Weare able to give her much Consolation, her Apprehensions being not in any Degree less uneasy. She had considered Lady Dellwyn's Establishment in France as a fortunate Event for her. They were on very friendly Terms; and she hoped an agreeable Asylum at her House at least for some time longer; but could not fix with her in London, without giving up every Pretension to Character; which, as Friendship, built on any other Foundation than that of a well-grounded Esteem, is not the most stable of any thing even in this changeable World, was a very hazardous Step.
Thus
Page 259
Thus was Miss Weare's Interest in this Affair closely connected with Lady Dellwyn's; and therefore her Uneasiness was not much inferior to her Ladyship's, who beheld so great a Proof of Friendship with Gratitude, and expressed herself much obliged for the kind Concern she shewed for her. Miss Weare was too prudent to lose the Merit by explaining all the Cause of her Sympathy with her: But on the contrary, she confirmed it by strong Professions of her Attachment which was in some measure real.
CHAP.
Chapter 11
Page 260
CHAP. XI.
A Disappointment.
In this Manner the Ladies passed the best Part of their Night, and went not to Bed till the Morning; where, unable to sleep, they continued not Two Hours; but met again, full of Fears and Expectations what would be the Result of that Day. They could not calmly say, with Brutus,
--- O that a Man might know
The End of this Day's Business ere it come:
Yet their Minds were too much disturbed by Anxiety to suffer them to say with him in the Lines that follow:
But
Page 261
But it sufficeth, that the Day will end;
And then the End is known.
Lady Dellwyn imagined, that if Monsieur D'Orville proved true to his Promises, he would be in haste to dissipate her Fears, and reward himself for his own; and accordingly dressed herself early with more than common Care, hoping, if his Father had unsettled his Resolution, to fix it again by the conquering Lustre of her Charms.
Her Ladyship had been dressed some time, and waited with Impatience for the Presence of the Person for whom she had thus adorned herself, when a Coach stopt at the Door. As she wished to see Monsieur D'Orville, so likewise she feared it, being greatly apprehensive lest he might have his Eyes opened by some Information produced by his Father; and, instead of the Love of a Bridegroom, should be full of Indignation, and come only with an Intention
to
5
Page 262
to upbraid her for endeavouring to impose on him a blasted Reputation. These different Sensations rendered her unable, when she heard a Coach stop, to go to the Window to satisfy her Impatience.. But Miss Weare, altho' herself under great Apprehensions, did that for her; and exclaimed, width Surprise, as well as Disappointment, that it was not the expected Lover, but an old Gentleman. Lady Dellwyn's Fears then told her Truth. They immediately suggested that it was Monsieur D'Orville's Father, and that the Design of this Visit was to break off her Match with his Son; to which it occurred to her, that he was also consenting, as he had not prepared her for this unexpected Visit; and she naturally judged, that a younger Man, and a Lover too, might have been as early at her Door as his Father could be.
Howcver
Page 263
However oppressed by these alarming Apprehensions, Lady Dellwyn was sensible that all her Courage was necessary; and she recovered from her Confusion as well as she could, assume. ing her utmost Power over herself to give the old Gentleman a proper Reception; wherein, however, she could not acquit herself so well as she wished: But he was not himself so little moved, as to be exactly observant of her Emotions.
He came with an Intention of informing her, in very plain Terms, of the Reasons why he could not suffer his Son to marry her; and did not design to leave her, without some Reproaches for having attempted to introduce Infamy into his immaculate Family. But when he entered the Room, Lady Dellwyn received him with such Dignity of Air, and Politeness of Manner, that it got so far the better of the Prepossession with which the old Gentleman came, that he could not refuse
her
Page 264
her a Respect which in his Heart he did not think due to her Conduct.
He was so much awed by her Appearance, that, before he could address her, she got Courage to express a Desire of knowing his Name, that she might not be ignorant to whom she owed the Favour of a Visit; for that, from a Person of his Age and Appearance, she must always esteem it as a Favour, tho' in general she was not desirous of the Company of Strangers.
The old Gentleman, who had been long a Stranger to the having his Appearance noticed, much less complimented, by a fair Lady, felt his Anger both against her and his Son greatly disarmed. But his Intention nevertheless continued stedfast; and having such Assistance offered for his delivering of a Business which he found it no easy Matter to produce, would not lose the Opportunity by longer Silence; but replied, he feared she would scarcely
esteem
Page 265
esteem his Visit as deserving the Acknowlegements she had so politely bestowed on it, when she knew his Motive for it; which, that she might in part guess before he uttered it, he would inform her that he was Father to Monsieur D'Orville.
As Lady Dellwyn hereby learned nothing new, she baffled the Intention with which it was spoken; for she received it without Confusion. Encouraged by seeing the sudden Effect her Person and Manner had on the old Gentleman, she assumed an Assurance, which, till thus called forth, she herself did not imagine she was Mistress of; and said,
"I am now doubly obliged; for I cannot see the Parent of a Person for whom I have so sincere a Regard, without the utmost Respect, and esteeming a Visit from him as a great Honour, and the highest Obligation."
VOL. II. That,
Page 266
'That, Madam, (replied the old Gentleman) must depend on my Intention in making it; which, not to leave you longer in Suspence, is no other than----than----than----to put a Stop to the Intercourse between my Son and your Ladyship. But this is a Loss, Madam, which should not afflict you, as it may be so soon supplied by the Power of your Charms.'
Lady Dellwyn was not enough Mistress of herself to hear unmoved even what she expected, and especially after she had entertained some small Degree of Hopes that she could look the old Gentleman out of the Power of declaring any thing disobliging to her. She was not immediately able to return an Answer. But he gave her time to recover herself; being so rejoiced that he had brought forth what her Elegance and Dignity had made so mighty a Burden, that he had no Desire to pursue the Subject.
At
Page 267
At last, after a great Struggle with herself, Lady Dellwyn replied; That indeed the Design of his Visit was not perfectly agreeable. As for the little Charms which he was pleased to think might repair the Loss, however true that might be, if Monsieur D'Orville had no Merit but what was common to every Lover -- "But, Sir, (continued she) your Son is possessed of Qualities which I have little Hopes of finding again, however numerous my Train of Admirers." Then she declared, that as her Rank and Fortune were equal to any Man's, she could not imagine why he should wish to put such an Affront upon her.
This last Sentence was not uttered without great Hesitation; for she feared the Answer which what she said seemed to require; but thought it would appear like Self-condemnation, if she offered to urge nothing in her own Behalf; and was somewhat encouraged also by the Complacency with which the Fa-
N 2 ther
Page 268
ther received the Praises of his Son, and hoped that he was thereby greatly mollified. In some measure he was lo; but the unfortunately naming her Rank and Fortune connected with them the Idea of her Infamy, the Dignity of his own House, and again roused the old Gentleman's Indignation.
By this means he was enabled to intimate, that her Character rendered her improper to enter into his Family; and, to avoid Altercation, added, that how far the Slander was just, was not much to the Purpose, for the Belief of it was sufficient to prevent him from ever consenting to such an Union; and, in more explicit Terms, was by a strong Effort enabled to inform her, that he had applied to the King upon the Affair; who had put his Son under Arrest, from which he should not be released till she had left the Kingdom, and he so well restored to his Reason, as to know the Obedience due to a Father.
Of
Page 269
Of all he had said, this last Assurance was the most unpleasing. She could still flatter herself with Hopes, if she might see Monsieur D'Orville. She knew the Violence of his Passion was her Friend, and a prevailing Pleader of her Cause. But this Resource was denied her; and, by an Action of such Eclat, her longer Abode in France must be very disagreeable to her, as well as prolong the Imprisonment of the only Man she had ever even fancied she had loved.
Amongst all her Distresses, Lady Dellwyn never felt a deeper than what she now endured. Her Pride, her Vanity, and her Affections, were all separately wounded. Her Affliction was insupportable, and heightened by the Consideration of what Monsieur D'Orville also suffered. Some Days passed before she could resolve on any thing; but as soon as she was capable of Reflexion, she determined to leave the Place: And since Shame would fol-
N 3 low
Page 270
low her where-ever she went, she thought it more advisable to return where it would be no Novelty, and therefore cause none of those violent Anxieties or Revolutions, than to feel such Vicissitudes of Fortune, and be rendered more sensible to the Pain arising from Contempt, for having enjoyed a Season of Respect and Admiration. But, convinced that Monsieur D'Orville's Father would make such strict Scrutiny into her Conduct, that his Son would not be long left in Ignorance of the Truth, she chose to make her Vanity some Amends, by having the Honour of a Confession.
Accordingly, before her Departure, Lady Dellwyn wrote a Letter to Monsieur D'Orville; wherein she lamented the Uneasiness she had caused him, as the greatest Misfortune that could have befallen her. She acknowleged some Indiscretions which made her hateful and contemptible to herself; and that Vanity was her only Seducer. She attempted
Page 271
tempted to palliate it by the Intoxication of Flattery, which her Understanding was too weak to bear unhurt; but that her Heart had never been engaged before; and to her Love she applied for her Apology for not having acquainted him with the whole of her past Conduct.
She informed him that she should leave Paris in Three Days Time, and proceed with all possible Haste into England, that she might not prolong his Confinement; and concluded, by intreating him to think of her Follies with Compassion, and not to suffer Contempt or Hatred to take the Place of Affection in his Heart. She acknowleged, that Indifference was the best she could hope: In that, as her just Due, she should acquiesce; tho' her Regard for him no Time or Affliction could efface.
This Letter she gave to a Friend Of Monsieur D'Orville, to deliver to him after her Departure; but, having got
N 4 Liberty
Page 272
Liberty to see the Prisoner, he performed his Commission before, and brought her back an Answer, filled with the most affectionate Lamentations, and the tenderest Farewel, that a desponding Lover could pen; a Lover whose Despair arose from finding his Mistress unworthy of his Affection; and yet such was the Strength of his Passions, that he could not immediately conquer his Love.
This Letter afforded Lady Dellwyn some little Satisfaction; for she could not bear the Thought of being placed in no-body's Heart but her own; and even that Self-love stood only on the same tottering Foundation with Monsieur D'Orville's good Opinion, and had no other Support but Partiality. She left the Kingdom according to her Word, and arrived safe in England. But it is impossible to express what Lady Dellwyn suffered in her Passage from Calais to Dover. She could indeed reproach France with its Treatment of
her,
Page 273
her, as she had done her own Country when she left it; but she could not congratulate herself on being set on Shore on her native Land, nor have the Pleasure of greeting it with Joy, which is the general Lot of every common Sailor.
All Places were now become irksome to her. She found it impossible to fly from Infamy, unless she could at the same time fly from herself; there was no stopping the hundred Tongues of Rumour, neither was there any Possibility of forgetting the criminal Errors of her Conduct. Her Passions were in a continual Alarm; and she read, or fancied she read, Contempt in every Countenance. What yet added to Lady Dellwyn's Misfortunes was, that she now found Miss Weare intended to leave her; and being sensible of the Value of an agreeable Companion to one in her Circumstances, with whom many might not
N 5 chuse
Page 274
chuse to keep Company, she offered her a competent Stipend to tempt her to continue with her.
Miss Weare was in a Situation that rendered her less scrupulous upon the Point of Reputation; and therefore her Poverty, and not her Will, consented; and Lady Dellwyn was as well satisfied as Romeo, to pay her Poverty, and not her Will.
When they appeared in London, the Elegance of their Dress, which was entirely French, procured them at first, as they apprehended it would, a better Reception than could have been reasonably expected. But this was only during the very short Time they were the Objects of Curiosity; and some People liked to see what Difference there was between Ladies going to, and the same Ladies returning from, Paris. And Lady Dellwyn found it impossible to get into very good Company, and very bad she could not en-
dure;
Page 275 (mispaginated as 257 in the 1759 edition)
dure; for, tho' infamous, she was not impudent, nor could relish any Conversation which exceeded the Limits of Decency. She had at first been seduced to give her Hand without her Heart; to make solemn Vows at the Altar, without any Regard to Truth; and afterwards betrayed to break those Vows, thus solemnly given, by Vanity. And tho' no Day nor Hour passed, but that she had sufficient Cause, either from the Consequence of her Actions, or from the painful Reflexions on them, to lament the Dupe she had been to that Passion; yet her Mind was too much disturbed and gone too far in an erroneous Path to suffer her to break thro' the Chain that held her, and abandon a Leader under whose Banner she had never been led into any Transactions; but what were attended with Errors, Crimes, and Misfortunes. She constantly wished to unravel what she had done last; and yet, as if she was infatuated, was as constant in persisting to act on in a Manner that only
N 6 gave
Page 276
gave her fresh Cause to wish she had the Power
To call back Yesterday;
which her Ignorance of herself alone made her imagine she could employ to any better Purpose.
C H A P
CHAP. XI.
A Disappointment.
In this Manner the Ladies passed the best Part of their Night, and went not to Bed till the Morning; where, unable to sleep, they continued not Two Hours; but met again, full of Fears and Expectations what would be the Result of that Day. They could not calmly say, with Brutus,
--- O that a Man might know
The End of this Day's Business ere it come:
Yet their Minds were too much disturbed by Anxiety to suffer them to say with him in the Lines that follow:
But
Page 261
But it sufficeth, that the Day will end;
And then the End is known.
Lady Dellwyn imagined, that if Monsieur D'Orville proved true to his Promises, he would be in haste to dissipate her Fears, and reward himself for his own; and accordingly dressed herself early with more than common Care, hoping, if his Father had unsettled his Resolution, to fix it again by the conquering Lustre of her Charms.
Her Ladyship had been dressed some time, and waited with Impatience for the Presence of the Person for whom she had thus adorned herself, when a Coach stopt at the Door. As she wished to see Monsieur D'Orville, so likewise she feared it, being greatly apprehensive lest he might have his Eyes opened by some Information produced by his Father; and, instead of the Love of a Bridegroom, should be full of Indignation, and come only with an Intention
to
5
Page 262
to upbraid her for endeavouring to impose on him a blasted Reputation. These different Sensations rendered her unable, when she heard a Coach stop, to go to the Window to satisfy her Impatience.. But Miss Weare, altho' herself under great Apprehensions, did that for her; and exclaimed, width Surprise, as well as Disappointment, that it was not the expected Lover, but an old Gentleman. Lady Dellwyn's Fears then told her Truth. They immediately suggested that it was Monsieur D'Orville's Father, and that the Design of this Visit was to break off her Match with his Son; to which it occurred to her, that he was also consenting, as he had not prepared her for this unexpected Visit; and she naturally judged, that a younger Man, and a Lover too, might have been as early at her Door as his Father could be.
Howcver
Page 263
However oppressed by these alarming Apprehensions, Lady Dellwyn was sensible that all her Courage was necessary; and she recovered from her Confusion as well as she could, assume. ing her utmost Power over herself to give the old Gentleman a proper Reception; wherein, however, she could not acquit herself so well as she wished: But he was not himself so little moved, as to be exactly observant of her Emotions.
He came with an Intention of informing her, in very plain Terms, of the Reasons why he could not suffer his Son to marry her; and did not design to leave her, without some Reproaches for having attempted to introduce Infamy into his immaculate Family. But when he entered the Room, Lady Dellwyn received him with such Dignity of Air, and Politeness of Manner, that it got so far the better of the Prepossession with which the old Gentleman came, that he could not refuse
her
Page 264
her a Respect which in his Heart he did not think due to her Conduct.
He was so much awed by her Appearance, that, before he could address her, she got Courage to express a Desire of knowing his Name, that she might not be ignorant to whom she owed the Favour of a Visit; for that, from a Person of his Age and Appearance, she must always esteem it as a Favour, tho' in general she was not desirous of the Company of Strangers.
The old Gentleman, who had been long a Stranger to the having his Appearance noticed, much less complimented, by a fair Lady, felt his Anger both against her and his Son greatly disarmed. But his Intention nevertheless continued stedfast; and having such Assistance offered for his delivering of a Business which he found it no easy Matter to produce, would not lose the Opportunity by longer Silence; but replied, he feared she would scarcely
esteem
Page 265
esteem his Visit as deserving the Acknowlegements she had so politely bestowed on it, when she knew his Motive for it; which, that she might in part guess before he uttered it, he would inform her that he was Father to Monsieur D'Orville.
As Lady Dellwyn hereby learned nothing new, she baffled the Intention with which it was spoken; for she received it without Confusion. Encouraged by seeing the sudden Effect her Person and Manner had on the old Gentleman, she assumed an Assurance, which, till thus called forth, she herself did not imagine she was Mistress of; and said,
"I am now doubly obliged; for I cannot see the Parent of a Person for whom I have so sincere a Regard, without the utmost Respect, and esteeming a Visit from him as a great Honour, and the highest Obligation."
VOL. II. That,
Page 266
'That, Madam, (replied the old Gentleman) must depend on my Intention in making it; which, not to leave you longer in Suspence, is no other than----than----than----to put a Stop to the Intercourse between my Son and your Ladyship. But this is a Loss, Madam, which should not afflict you, as it may be so soon supplied by the Power of your Charms.'
Lady Dellwyn was not enough Mistress of herself to hear unmoved even what she expected, and especially after she had entertained some small Degree of Hopes that she could look the old Gentleman out of the Power of declaring any thing disobliging to her. She was not immediately able to return an Answer. But he gave her time to recover herself; being so rejoiced that he had brought forth what her Elegance and Dignity had made so mighty a Burden, that he had no Desire to pursue the Subject.
At
Page 267
At last, after a great Struggle with herself, Lady Dellwyn replied; That indeed the Design of his Visit was not perfectly agreeable. As for the little Charms which he was pleased to think might repair the Loss, however true that might be, if Monsieur D'Orville had no Merit but what was common to every Lover -- "But, Sir, (continued she) your Son is possessed of Qualities which I have little Hopes of finding again, however numerous my Train of Admirers." Then she declared, that as her Rank and Fortune were equal to any Man's, she could not imagine why he should wish to put such an Affront upon her.
This last Sentence was not uttered without great Hesitation; for she feared the Answer which what she said seemed to require; but thought it would appear like Self-condemnation, if she offered to urge nothing in her own Behalf; and was somewhat encouraged also by the Complacency with which the Fa-
N 2 ther
Page 268
ther received the Praises of his Son, and hoped that he was thereby greatly mollified. In some measure he was lo; but the unfortunately naming her Rank and Fortune connected with them the Idea of her Infamy, the Dignity of his own House, and again roused the old Gentleman's Indignation.
By this means he was enabled to intimate, that her Character rendered her improper to enter into his Family; and, to avoid Altercation, added, that how far the Slander was just, was not much to the Purpose, for the Belief of it was sufficient to prevent him from ever consenting to such an Union; and, in more explicit Terms, was by a strong Effort enabled to inform her, that he had applied to the King upon the Affair; who had put his Son under Arrest, from which he should not be released till she had left the Kingdom, and he so well restored to his Reason, as to know the Obedience due to a Father.
Of
Page 269
Of all he had said, this last Assurance was the most unpleasing. She could still flatter herself with Hopes, if she might see Monsieur D'Orville. She knew the Violence of his Passion was her Friend, and a prevailing Pleader of her Cause. But this Resource was denied her; and, by an Action of such Eclat, her longer Abode in France must be very disagreeable to her, as well as prolong the Imprisonment of the only Man she had ever even fancied she had loved.
Amongst all her Distresses, Lady Dellwyn never felt a deeper than what she now endured. Her Pride, her Vanity, and her Affections, were all separately wounded. Her Affliction was insupportable, and heightened by the Consideration of what Monsieur D'Orville also suffered. Some Days passed before she could resolve on any thing; but as soon as she was capable of Reflexion, she determined to leave the Place: And since Shame would fol-
N 3 low
Page 270
low her where-ever she went, she thought it more advisable to return where it would be no Novelty, and therefore cause none of those violent Anxieties or Revolutions, than to feel such Vicissitudes of Fortune, and be rendered more sensible to the Pain arising from Contempt, for having enjoyed a Season of Respect and Admiration. But, convinced that Monsieur D'Orville's Father would make such strict Scrutiny into her Conduct, that his Son would not be long left in Ignorance of the Truth, she chose to make her Vanity some Amends, by having the Honour of a Confession.
Accordingly, before her Departure, Lady Dellwyn wrote a Letter to Monsieur D'Orville; wherein she lamented the Uneasiness she had caused him, as the greatest Misfortune that could have befallen her. She acknowleged some Indiscretions which made her hateful and contemptible to herself; and that Vanity was her only Seducer. She attempted
Page 271
tempted to palliate it by the Intoxication of Flattery, which her Understanding was too weak to bear unhurt; but that her Heart had never been engaged before; and to her Love she applied for her Apology for not having acquainted him with the whole of her past Conduct.
She informed him that she should leave Paris in Three Days Time, and proceed with all possible Haste into England, that she might not prolong his Confinement; and concluded, by intreating him to think of her Follies with Compassion, and not to suffer Contempt or Hatred to take the Place of Affection in his Heart. She acknowleged, that Indifference was the best she could hope: In that, as her just Due, she should acquiesce; tho' her Regard for him no Time or Affliction could efface.
This Letter she gave to a Friend Of Monsieur D'Orville, to deliver to him after her Departure; but, having got
N 4 Liberty
Page 272
Liberty to see the Prisoner, he performed his Commission before, and brought her back an Answer, filled with the most affectionate Lamentations, and the tenderest Farewel, that a desponding Lover could pen; a Lover whose Despair arose from finding his Mistress unworthy of his Affection; and yet such was the Strength of his Passions, that he could not immediately conquer his Love.
This Letter afforded Lady Dellwyn some little Satisfaction; for she could not bear the Thought of being placed in no-body's Heart but her own; and even that Self-love stood only on the same tottering Foundation with Monsieur D'Orville's good Opinion, and had no other Support but Partiality. She left the Kingdom according to her Word, and arrived safe in England. But it is impossible to express what Lady Dellwyn suffered in her Passage from Calais to Dover. She could indeed reproach France with its Treatment of
her,
Page 273
her, as she had done her own Country when she left it; but she could not congratulate herself on being set on Shore on her native Land, nor have the Pleasure of greeting it with Joy, which is the general Lot of every common Sailor.
All Places were now become irksome to her. She found it impossible to fly from Infamy, unless she could at the same time fly from herself; there was no stopping the hundred Tongues of Rumour, neither was there any Possibility of forgetting the criminal Errors of her Conduct. Her Passions were in a continual Alarm; and she read, or fancied she read, Contempt in every Countenance. What yet added to Lady Dellwyn's Misfortunes was, that she now found Miss Weare intended to leave her; and being sensible of the Value of an agreeable Companion to one in her Circumstances, with whom many might not
N 5 chuse
Page 274
chuse to keep Company, she offered her a competent Stipend to tempt her to continue with her.
Miss Weare was in a Situation that rendered her less scrupulous upon the Point of Reputation; and therefore her Poverty, and not her Will, consented; and Lady Dellwyn was as well satisfied as Romeo, to pay her Poverty, and not her Will.
When they appeared in London, the Elegance of their Dress, which was entirely French, procured them at first, as they apprehended it would, a better Reception than could have been reasonably expected. But this was only during the very short Time they were the Objects of Curiosity; and some People liked to see what Difference there was between Ladies going to, and the same Ladies returning from, Paris. And Lady Dellwyn found it impossible to get into very good Company, and very bad she could not en-
dure;
Page 275 (mispaginated as 257 in the 1759 edition)
dure; for, tho' infamous, she was not impudent, nor could relish any Conversation which exceeded the Limits of Decency. She had at first been seduced to give her Hand without her Heart; to make solemn Vows at the Altar, without any Regard to Truth; and afterwards betrayed to break those Vows, thus solemnly given, by Vanity. And tho' no Day nor Hour passed, but that she had sufficient Cause, either from the Consequence of her Actions, or from the painful Reflexions on them, to lament the Dupe she had been to that Passion; yet her Mind was too much disturbed and gone too far in an erroneous Path to suffer her to break thro' the Chain that held her, and abandon a Leader under whose Banner she had never been led into any Transactions; but what were attended with Errors, Crimes, and Misfortunes. She constantly wished to unravel what she had done last; and yet, as if she was infatuated, was as constant in persisting to act on in a Manner that only
N 6 gave
Page 276
gave her fresh Cause to wish she had the Power
To call back Yesterday;
which her Ignorance of herself alone made her imagine she could employ to any better Purpose.
C H A P
Conclusion
Page 277
CHAPTER the Last
The Conclusion.
LADY Dellwyn's future Life was a continual Mortification; for altho' she carefully avoided ever more falling into any such Snares as that wherein Lord Clermont had intangled her, yet her Name was very seldom mentioned without being strictly connected with that Circumstance. Some Persons indeed at first hesitated, and seemed to be labouring under a great Difficulty to call to Remembrance what was before uppermost, and ready for Utterance; but they never failed recollecting enough to join the Names. of Lord Clermont and Lady Dellwyn, before they quitted the Subject. That Kind of Wisdom which deals in con-
demning
Page 278
demning others, and consequently hath no Leisure to inspect the Errors at home, was exercised very plentifully on Lady Dellwyn's Conduct. A few Individuals, it is true, who were acquainted with her Story, and knew in what Manner she was betrayed to marry Lord Dellwyn, could not forbear looking on her with some degree of Compassion: But it was observable, that this Lenity was exerted only by those Persons whose own Conduct had ever been the most unblemished, and who, by their exemplary Lives alone, had proved their Abhorrence of every vicious Practice.
Charity covereth a Multitude of Sins; saith the Apostle; but generally that Part of Mankind who visibly have the greatest Number of Crimes to veil over, are apt to provide themselves with the least Share of that necessary Covering. Perhaps this may be in some degree owing to what is observed in The Spectator, That to resist a Temptation,
is
Page 279
is the only Means by which we can judge of its Force.
Lady Dellwyn could not relish a retired Life. Her Mind was not sufficiently calm. True, sound, and religious Principles her Father had never instilled into her youthful Mind. It was indeed a Task impossible for him to execute, as he had never thought of them himself. He had given his Daughter some general Ideas of Virtue, which was to be built on the sandy, Foundation of Pride; and when that Pride, under whose Banner she was inlisted, commanded her to deviate into the Paths of Vice, she followed her Leader implicitly, and, according to the common Proverb, plunged thro' thick and thin, without any Reflexion on the mischievous Consequences that must attend her erroneous Conduct. It is in fact as absurd to say, that Pride can preserve Virtue, as it would be to assert, that a Vessel fails the most steady on the Ocean in the midst of a vio-
lent
Page 280
lent Storm; it being full as much the Nature of Pride to throw the human Mind into Confusion and Perturbation, and to rob it of all its Steadiness, as it is of roaring Waves and foaming Billows to toss about the Vessels that fail on them when they are thus agitated by the Winds.
Some fluctuating Notions concerning Repentance, Virtue, Honour, Morality, &. hovered around Lady Dellwyn's Thoughts, but were too wavering to bring her to any fixed Determination. She became a constant Attendant from one public Place to another; where she met with many Mortifications: But yet even these were not quite so dreadful to her, as to retire, and be subjected to her own Company alone. But as Lord Dellwyn supplied her with Means of gaming within a moderate Degree, to that she fled for Refuge from herself, and for a Method of banishing painful Reflexion. But as the Love of Play was not natural to
her,
Page 281
her, she could not reap thence any great Pleasure; but often found herself weary of this Life, and yet anxiously avoided every Thought of Death. She might very well have applied to herself what Angelo, in Measure for Measure, says, after he had fallen from Virtue and Innocence,
Alack! when once our Grace we have
forgot,
Nothing goes right; we would, and we
would not.
Miss Weare attended on Lady Dellwyn as her Shadow; and as she had before received a great deal of Flattery at second-hand, so she now received a great deal of Contempt in the same Manner; with this material Difference, that the Flattery which came to her Share, when it could not reach Lady Dellwyn, lost much of its respectful Manner by the Way; whereas that Contempt fell with redoubled Force
on
Page 282
on her of which Lady Dellwyn's Beauty and Quality somewhat abated the Violence; insomuch that Miss Weare often repined, and secretly wished that she had rather submitted to the meanest Employment, on the Death of her Parents, than taken up the Trade of being an humble Companion, and especially to a Lady, who, so far from being able to protect others, could not cover herself from the Shame of the Infamy she had incurred.
Lord Dellwyn disappointed all Captain Drumond's Hopes, for he made his House-keeper his Countess; whose first Step towards engrossing her Lord and his Fortunes wholly to herself, was the Riddance of Captain Drumond out of the Family; atho' no Endeavours were wanting on his Part to avoid so fatal a Misfortune. He was a true poetical Proteus, turned and twisted himself into various Forms, bullied and cringed, boasted and flattered, threatened Lord Dellwyn that he would break
Page 283
break his Heart if he would not continue to him his Friendship, and believe him to be an honest Man; but all in vain. The House-keeper no sooner found herself to be a Countess, than she claimed all her Privileges, and would suffer no Person in her House but whom she pleased. She obtained such an Ascendant over her Lord, that by degrees she governed him as absolutely as if he had been a real Infant; and made him leave her every thing in his Power, to the great Disadvantage of his own Brother, and the Scandal of his Name.
The Captain proceeded on in the Method he had begun, by puffing off himself, and deceiving others; turning every human Weakness to his own Advantage, by directing his Flattery to that Part, till many Families had great Reason to lament the Day in which they had first been unfortunately acquainted with him; altho' he always boasted the great Blessing he had been
5 to
Page 284
to them and the many Favours he had conferred on them; and at last was so thoroughly discovered, that he was publicly infamous, his own Conscience bearing the painful Testimony that he was deservedly so. By which means he became so miserable, that if, amongst all the People he had injured, there was anyone vindictive enough to be half so much an Enemy to him as he was to himself, could they have seen his inward Sufferings, they must have been very hard-hearted indeed, if their Anger would not by that means have been appeased, and have given place to some Degree of human Pity.
It hath been observed, that Mr. Chlegen was first induced to marry Lady Fanny Fashion by a real and sincere Affection for her; and altho' he perceived that she was too much elated by public Diversions, and the Pleasures of Vanity, yet that he had flattered himself she would in Time grow weary of a continual Repetition of the same
trifling
Page 285
trifling Scenes, and then would naturally fall into the domestic Life he loved. But when he found that all his Hopes were built on a sandy Foundation, and that Time rather increased than diminished her Pursuit of vain Pleasures, he resolved to separate himself from her. He would not make any public Noise; but took an easy obvious Method of enjoying her Absence, which was no other than remaining at his own home, which he found was the last Place to which she would chuse to resort. Lady Fanny's Life ended conformably to its Beginning; and if of the Space of Fifty Years, in which she fluttered about, much should be said, many Words might indeed be used; but of the Matter therein contained it might truly be said it was Much ado about Nothing.
The Remainder of Mr. Lucum's Life bore a nearer Resemblance to Phrenzy or Distraction, than to any other thing whatsoever. He had before exerted
the
Page 286
the utmost Skill to make himself believe he was contented with a rural Retirement, insomuch that he could not now again avail himself of that Fallacy. He saw no Path by which he could possibly attain any new Connexion for the promoting any future Interest. He was become so much the Contempt of all Parties, that he could not flatter himself with any such alluring Hope. His Mind was swelled and puffed up with Ambition; but he laboured under the painful Affliction of finding no outward Object to gratify that turbulent Passion. He poured forth a small Part of his Indignation by constantly writing, One at least every Twelvemonths, the most enraged Letter he could dicate to his Daughter. But this was not sufficient to vent half the Venom with which he was filled. He therefore turned political Writer: He dipped his Pen in Gall; and threw forth his inward Spleen at every Man in Power; which Power was itself the Mark at which he shot, without dis-
tinguishing
Page 287
tinguishing who or what the Man was at whom he levelled his Satire, more properly called Ribaldry.
He wrote about it, Goddess, and about it,
till he buried the plainest Matters of Fact so deeply under a Redundancy of Words, that they could no longer be perceived even by the clearest Understanding.
At the Expiration of the Time which Miss Bilson's Father and Mother required Sir Harry Cleveland to spend in the Gaiety of the Metropolis, as a Trial of his Steadiness, in the Pursuit of such Pleasures as, they thought becoming a reasonable Man, he returned to Mr. Bilson's in no way different from what he was when he left them; except in having his Passion for the young Lady, and his Esteem for the rest of the Family, still heightened, by the Comparisons his Mind had continually drawn
between
Page 288
between them and every other Person with whom he had converted.
It must be confessed, that the ardent Love with which Sir Harry was inspired for Miss Bilson, was the most urgent Cause of his thinking the Time long whilst he staid in London. But if he had no other Motive but to have returned again to the instructing as well as entertaining Conversation of that Family, he would have longed to have quitted the Town, and all its Diversions, to have enjoyed that Pleasure; for there innocent Mirth and real Wit abounded, without their mimic Shadows, barbarous Noise, or affected Sneers. Their sprightly Humour displayed itself in various pleasing Forms, to enliven and amuse, but never to give mental Pain, or expose any of the Company to Derision. There Joy, spreading Laughter, like all other Pleasure, was shared in common; and they laughed with, but never at, one ananother. There, lastly, Religion appeared
in
Page 289
in its own natural Shape, and had its proper Influence; for, by softening the natural Infirmities which attend human Nature from the Time of its Entrance into this World, and by laying the most solid Foundation for rational Pleasure, it shewed every Countenance filled with such joyous Smiles, and benign Lustre, as can only be the Result of truly gladdened and happy Hearts.
Sir Harry Cleveland had now a Claim to urge, which neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bilson wished to refuse him; but, on the contrary, with general Joy confirmed his Union with Miss Bilson. The young Clergyman, who owed both a tender and excellent Wife to Mrs. Bilson, begged leave to perform the Ceremony, as the greatest Gratification they could bestow; which, as they knew this Request was made in Sincerity of Heart, and not out of Flattery, they readily complied with, being ready to add to their own, by
VOL. II. O distributing
Page 290
distributing Pleasure to all around them, and Sir Harry found abundant Reason to remember the Words of the wise Man, that a good Wife is a Crown to her Husband.
There was no good House on Sir Harry's Estate. He therefore compleated the Happiness of himself, his Bride, and all the Family, by hiring one in Mr. Bilson's Neighbourhood; tho he thought it so proper to spend great Part of his Rents amongst those from whom he received them, that he, followed Mrs. Bilson's Plan, fixing the same Institutions in his Parishes; and fitted up Apartments, where he and Lady Cleveland often went, and passed as much Time there as was requisite for the Inspection of the Charities they had established; over which the Clergyman's Widow presided in their Absence, receiving from them a handsome and proper Stipend for that Purpose.
This
Page 291
This happy Family lived together in the happiest Union, till Time required its Sacrifice, and Death removed them from this World to a better, before Age had inflicted those Infirmities upon them which render Life burdensome to the Possessor, and a melancholy Object to their Friends; tho' not so soon, but that they went to the Grave full of Years and Honour.
Their Virtues lived in their Children. The Family changed its Persons, but not its Manners; and they continued a Blessing to the World from Generation to Generation.
CHAPTER the Last
The Conclusion.
LADY Dellwyn's future Life was a continual Mortification; for altho' she carefully avoided ever more falling into any such Snares as that wherein Lord Clermont had intangled her, yet her Name was very seldom mentioned without being strictly connected with that Circumstance. Some Persons indeed at first hesitated, and seemed to be labouring under a great Difficulty to call to Remembrance what was before uppermost, and ready for Utterance; but they never failed recollecting enough to join the Names. of Lord Clermont and Lady Dellwyn, before they quitted the Subject. That Kind of Wisdom which deals in con-
demning
Page 278
demning others, and consequently hath no Leisure to inspect the Errors at home, was exercised very plentifully on Lady Dellwyn's Conduct. A few Individuals, it is true, who were acquainted with her Story, and knew in what Manner she was betrayed to marry Lord Dellwyn, could not forbear looking on her with some degree of Compassion: But it was observable, that this Lenity was exerted only by those Persons whose own Conduct had ever been the most unblemished, and who, by their exemplary Lives alone, had proved their Abhorrence of every vicious Practice.
Charity covereth a Multitude of Sins; saith the Apostle; but generally that Part of Mankind who visibly have the greatest Number of Crimes to veil over, are apt to provide themselves with the least Share of that necessary Covering. Perhaps this may be in some degree owing to what is observed in The Spectator, That to resist a Temptation,
is
Page 279
is the only Means by which we can judge of its Force.
Lady Dellwyn could not relish a retired Life. Her Mind was not sufficiently calm. True, sound, and religious Principles her Father had never instilled into her youthful Mind. It was indeed a Task impossible for him to execute, as he had never thought of them himself. He had given his Daughter some general Ideas of Virtue, which was to be built on the sandy, Foundation of Pride; and when that Pride, under whose Banner she was inlisted, commanded her to deviate into the Paths of Vice, she followed her Leader implicitly, and, according to the common Proverb, plunged thro' thick and thin, without any Reflexion on the mischievous Consequences that must attend her erroneous Conduct. It is in fact as absurd to say, that Pride can preserve Virtue, as it would be to assert, that a Vessel fails the most steady on the Ocean in the midst of a vio-
lent
Page 280
lent Storm; it being full as much the Nature of Pride to throw the human Mind into Confusion and Perturbation, and to rob it of all its Steadiness, as it is of roaring Waves and foaming Billows to toss about the Vessels that fail on them when they are thus agitated by the Winds.
Some fluctuating Notions concerning Repentance, Virtue, Honour, Morality, &. hovered around Lady Dellwyn's Thoughts, but were too wavering to bring her to any fixed Determination. She became a constant Attendant from one public Place to another; where she met with many Mortifications: But yet even these were not quite so dreadful to her, as to retire, and be subjected to her own Company alone. But as Lord Dellwyn supplied her with Means of gaming within a moderate Degree, to that she fled for Refuge from herself, and for a Method of banishing painful Reflexion. But as the Love of Play was not natural to
her,
Page 281
her, she could not reap thence any great Pleasure; but often found herself weary of this Life, and yet anxiously avoided every Thought of Death. She might very well have applied to herself what Angelo, in Measure for Measure, says, after he had fallen from Virtue and Innocence,
Alack! when once our Grace we have
forgot,
Nothing goes right; we would, and we
would not.
Miss Weare attended on Lady Dellwyn as her Shadow; and as she had before received a great deal of Flattery at second-hand, so she now received a great deal of Contempt in the same Manner; with this material Difference, that the Flattery which came to her Share, when it could not reach Lady Dellwyn, lost much of its respectful Manner by the Way; whereas that Contempt fell with redoubled Force
on
Page 282
on her of which Lady Dellwyn's Beauty and Quality somewhat abated the Violence; insomuch that Miss Weare often repined, and secretly wished that she had rather submitted to the meanest Employment, on the Death of her Parents, than taken up the Trade of being an humble Companion, and especially to a Lady, who, so far from being able to protect others, could not cover herself from the Shame of the Infamy she had incurred.
Lord Dellwyn disappointed all Captain Drumond's Hopes, for he made his House-keeper his Countess; whose first Step towards engrossing her Lord and his Fortunes wholly to herself, was the Riddance of Captain Drumond out of the Family; atho' no Endeavours were wanting on his Part to avoid so fatal a Misfortune. He was a true poetical Proteus, turned and twisted himself into various Forms, bullied and cringed, boasted and flattered, threatened Lord Dellwyn that he would break
Page 283
break his Heart if he would not continue to him his Friendship, and believe him to be an honest Man; but all in vain. The House-keeper no sooner found herself to be a Countess, than she claimed all her Privileges, and would suffer no Person in her House but whom she pleased. She obtained such an Ascendant over her Lord, that by degrees she governed him as absolutely as if he had been a real Infant; and made him leave her every thing in his Power, to the great Disadvantage of his own Brother, and the Scandal of his Name.
The Captain proceeded on in the Method he had begun, by puffing off himself, and deceiving others; turning every human Weakness to his own Advantage, by directing his Flattery to that Part, till many Families had great Reason to lament the Day in which they had first been unfortunately acquainted with him; altho' he always boasted the great Blessing he had been
5 to
Page 284
to them and the many Favours he had conferred on them; and at last was so thoroughly discovered, that he was publicly infamous, his own Conscience bearing the painful Testimony that he was deservedly so. By which means he became so miserable, that if, amongst all the People he had injured, there was anyone vindictive enough to be half so much an Enemy to him as he was to himself, could they have seen his inward Sufferings, they must have been very hard-hearted indeed, if their Anger would not by that means have been appeased, and have given place to some Degree of human Pity.
It hath been observed, that Mr. Chlegen was first induced to marry Lady Fanny Fashion by a real and sincere Affection for her; and altho' he perceived that she was too much elated by public Diversions, and the Pleasures of Vanity, yet that he had flattered himself she would in Time grow weary of a continual Repetition of the same
trifling
Page 285
trifling Scenes, and then would naturally fall into the domestic Life he loved. But when he found that all his Hopes were built on a sandy Foundation, and that Time rather increased than diminished her Pursuit of vain Pleasures, he resolved to separate himself from her. He would not make any public Noise; but took an easy obvious Method of enjoying her Absence, which was no other than remaining at his own home, which he found was the last Place to which she would chuse to resort. Lady Fanny's Life ended conformably to its Beginning; and if of the Space of Fifty Years, in which she fluttered about, much should be said, many Words might indeed be used; but of the Matter therein contained it might truly be said it was Much ado about Nothing.
The Remainder of Mr. Lucum's Life bore a nearer Resemblance to Phrenzy or Distraction, than to any other thing whatsoever. He had before exerted
the
Page 286
the utmost Skill to make himself believe he was contented with a rural Retirement, insomuch that he could not now again avail himself of that Fallacy. He saw no Path by which he could possibly attain any new Connexion for the promoting any future Interest. He was become so much the Contempt of all Parties, that he could not flatter himself with any such alluring Hope. His Mind was swelled and puffed up with Ambition; but he laboured under the painful Affliction of finding no outward Object to gratify that turbulent Passion. He poured forth a small Part of his Indignation by constantly writing, One at least every Twelvemonths, the most enraged Letter he could dicate to his Daughter. But this was not sufficient to vent half the Venom with which he was filled. He therefore turned political Writer: He dipped his Pen in Gall; and threw forth his inward Spleen at every Man in Power; which Power was itself the Mark at which he shot, without dis-
tinguishing
Page 287
tinguishing who or what the Man was at whom he levelled his Satire, more properly called Ribaldry.
He wrote about it, Goddess, and about it,
till he buried the plainest Matters of Fact so deeply under a Redundancy of Words, that they could no longer be perceived even by the clearest Understanding.
At the Expiration of the Time which Miss Bilson's Father and Mother required Sir Harry Cleveland to spend in the Gaiety of the Metropolis, as a Trial of his Steadiness, in the Pursuit of such Pleasures as, they thought becoming a reasonable Man, he returned to Mr. Bilson's in no way different from what he was when he left them; except in having his Passion for the young Lady, and his Esteem for the rest of the Family, still heightened, by the Comparisons his Mind had continually drawn
between
Page 288
between them and every other Person with whom he had converted.
It must be confessed, that the ardent Love with which Sir Harry was inspired for Miss Bilson, was the most urgent Cause of his thinking the Time long whilst he staid in London. But if he had no other Motive but to have returned again to the instructing as well as entertaining Conversation of that Family, he would have longed to have quitted the Town, and all its Diversions, to have enjoyed that Pleasure; for there innocent Mirth and real Wit abounded, without their mimic Shadows, barbarous Noise, or affected Sneers. Their sprightly Humour displayed itself in various pleasing Forms, to enliven and amuse, but never to give mental Pain, or expose any of the Company to Derision. There Joy, spreading Laughter, like all other Pleasure, was shared in common; and they laughed with, but never at, one ananother. There, lastly, Religion appeared
in
Page 289
in its own natural Shape, and had its proper Influence; for, by softening the natural Infirmities which attend human Nature from the Time of its Entrance into this World, and by laying the most solid Foundation for rational Pleasure, it shewed every Countenance filled with such joyous Smiles, and benign Lustre, as can only be the Result of truly gladdened and happy Hearts.
Sir Harry Cleveland had now a Claim to urge, which neither Mr. nor Mrs. Bilson wished to refuse him; but, on the contrary, with general Joy confirmed his Union with Miss Bilson. The young Clergyman, who owed both a tender and excellent Wife to Mrs. Bilson, begged leave to perform the Ceremony, as the greatest Gratification they could bestow; which, as they knew this Request was made in Sincerity of Heart, and not out of Flattery, they readily complied with, being ready to add to their own, by
VOL. II. O distributing
Page 290
distributing Pleasure to all around them, and Sir Harry found abundant Reason to remember the Words of the wise Man, that a good Wife is a Crown to her Husband.
There was no good House on Sir Harry's Estate. He therefore compleated the Happiness of himself, his Bride, and all the Family, by hiring one in Mr. Bilson's Neighbourhood; tho he thought it so proper to spend great Part of his Rents amongst those from whom he received them, that he, followed Mrs. Bilson's Plan, fixing the same Institutions in his Parishes; and fitted up Apartments, where he and Lady Cleveland often went, and passed as much Time there as was requisite for the Inspection of the Charities they had established; over which the Clergyman's Widow presided in their Absence, receiving from them a handsome and proper Stipend for that Purpose.
This
Page 291
This happy Family lived together in the happiest Union, till Time required its Sacrifice, and Death removed them from this World to a better, before Age had inflicted those Infirmities upon them which render Life burdensome to the Possessor, and a melancholy Object to their Friends; tho' not so soon, but that they went to the Grave full of Years and Honour.
Their Virtues lived in their Children. The Family changed its Persons, but not its Manners; and they continued a Blessing to the World from Generation to Generation.
FINIS.
Page 292
BOOKS printed for and sold by A. MILLAR.
I. THE History of the Adventurers of Joseph Andrews, and his Friend Mr. Abraham Adams. Written in Imitation of the Manner of Cervantes, Author of Don Quixote. The Fifth Edition, revised and correted, with Alterations and Additions, and illustrated with Cuts. By Henry Fielding, Esq; 2 vols.
II. Miscellanies. By Henry Fielding, Esq; In 3 vols.
Containing,
Vol. I. All his Works in Verse, and some short Essays in Prose.
Vol. 2. A Journey from this World to the next, &c.
Vol. 3. The History of that truly renowned Person Jonathan Wild, Esq; In which not only his Character, but that of divers other great Personages of his Time, are set in a just and true Light.
III. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. By Henry Fielding, Esq; The Fourth Edition; in 4 vols.
IV. Amelia. By Henry Fielding, Esq; in 4 vols.
V. The Dramatick Works of Henry Fielding; Esq; in 3 vols. Containing 22 Comedies and Farces.
VI. The Life of Jonathan Wild the Great, a new Edition, with considerable Corrections and Additions. By Henry Fielding, Esq;.
VII. The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. By Henry Fielding, Esq;.
VII. The
Page 293
VIII. The Adventures of David Simple: Containing an Account of his Travels thro' the Cities of London and Westminster, in the Search of a Real Friend. By a Lady. The Second Edition revised and corrected, with Alterations and Additions; and a Preface by Henry Fielding, Esq; 3 vols.
The Third Volume may be had alone.
IX. Familiar Letters between the principal Characters in David Simple and some others. To which is added a Vision.
By the Author of David Simple. In 2 vols. Octavo.
Another Edition of the same Book, in 2 vols. Twelves.
X. The Governess: Or, The Little Female Academy. Calculated for the Entertainment and Instruction of young Ladies in their Education. By the Author of David Simple. The Second Edition, revised and corrected. A Book entirely adapted and exceeding proper, for the Use of Schools.
XI. The Life of Harriot Stuart. Written by herself. In 2 vols.
XII. A Poetical Translation of the Works of Horace: With the Original Text and Notes, collected from the best Latin and French Commentators on that Author. By the Rev. Mr. Philip Francis, Rector of Skeyton in Norfolk. In 4 vols. 8vo. 5th Edit.
XIII. Ditto, in 5 vols, 12mo. The Sixth Edition.
BOOKS printed for and sold by A. MILLAR.
I. THE History of the Adventurers of Joseph Andrews, and his Friend Mr. Abraham Adams. Written in Imitation of the Manner of Cervantes, Author of Don Quixote. The Fifth Edition, revised and correted, with Alterations and Additions, and illustrated with Cuts. By Henry Fielding, Esq; 2 vols.
II. Miscellanies. By Henry Fielding, Esq; In 3 vols.
Containing,
Vol. I. All his Works in Verse, and some short Essays in Prose.
Vol. 2. A Journey from this World to the next, &c.
Vol. 3. The History of that truly renowned Person Jonathan Wild, Esq; In which not only his Character, but that of divers other great Personages of his Time, are set in a just and true Light.
III. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. By Henry Fielding, Esq; The Fourth Edition; in 4 vols.
IV. Amelia. By Henry Fielding, Esq; in 4 vols.
V. The Dramatick Works of Henry Fielding; Esq; in 3 vols. Containing 22 Comedies and Farces.
VI. The Life of Jonathan Wild the Great, a new Edition, with considerable Corrections and Additions. By Henry Fielding, Esq;.
VII. The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. By Henry Fielding, Esq;.
VII. The
Page 293
VIII. The Adventures of David Simple: Containing an Account of his Travels thro' the Cities of London and Westminster, in the Search of a Real Friend. By a Lady. The Second Edition revised and corrected, with Alterations and Additions; and a Preface by Henry Fielding, Esq; 3 vols.
The Third Volume may be had alone.
IX. Familiar Letters between the principal Characters in David Simple and some others. To which is added a Vision.
By the Author of David Simple. In 2 vols. Octavo.
Another Edition of the same Book, in 2 vols. Twelves.
X. The Governess: Or, The Little Female Academy. Calculated for the Entertainment and Instruction of young Ladies in their Education. By the Author of David Simple. The Second Edition, revised and corrected. A Book entirely adapted and exceeding proper, for the Use of Schools.
XI. The Life of Harriot Stuart. Written by herself. In 2 vols.
XII. A Poetical Translation of the Works of Horace: With the Original Text and Notes, collected from the best Latin and French Commentators on that Author. By the Rev. Mr. Philip Francis, Rector of Skeyton in Norfolk. In 4 vols. 8vo. 5th Edit.
XIII. Ditto, in 5 vols, 12mo. The Sixth Edition.
Notes to Vol. 2, Book 4, Chapters 10-11 & Conclusion
Notes to Chapter 10
Harangue: A
speech addressed to an assembly; a loud or vehement address, a tirade;
formerly, sometimes, a formal or pompous speech. (OED)
Caesar: Alludes to the Roman general Julius Caesar, who was as renowned for his prose and rhetoric as he was his leadership skills.
Prince Volscius: Alludes
to a character in the comedic, play "The Rehearsal." This play pokes
fun at John Dryden and the tradition of the Restoration tragedy.
Hesperian: Alludes
to the fruit that reside in the garden of Hesperides. The fruit was commonly a
golden apple of immortality. This refers to the "apple of discord,"
where the goddess Eris plucked the apple from the garden and inscribed it with
"To the fairest" and tossed it to the other goddesses. This caused a
fight between Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera, which eventually led to the Trojan
war.
Argus:
In
Greek mythology, Argus was the giant with a hundred eyes. He was Hera's
servant, tasked with watching Zeus's heifer lo.
Valet de Chambre: French
meaning for Chamber Valet. This was a servant appointed the task of keeping a
lord (usually) or man of rank properly groomed. This is a class symbol, since
the rich were the one who had valets.
Bajazet: Refers
to the play by the same name, written by Jean Racine. In the play, Bajazet is
in love with Atalide, but courts Roxanne to curry favor with the sultan.
Roxanne finds out and has him hanged.
Notes to Chapter 11 & Conclusion
Brutus . . . ere it come: Cf. Act 5, Scene 1 of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar:
BRUTUS: Why, then, lead on. O, that man might know
The end of this day's business ere it come!
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known. Come, ho! away! (l. 123-6)
BRUTUS: Why, then, lead on. O, that man might know
The end of this day's business ere it come!
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known. Come, ho! away! (l. 123-6)
Eclat: "Public display, ostentation; notoriety, publicity; concr. a public exposure, scandal, 'scene'. to make an éclat : to 'make a noise in the world', create a sensation" (OED). The first recorded usage of this term is from 1704, thus suggesting a relatively modern usage for Fielding's text.
felt a deeper: Possible typo in the 1759 edition.
Vicissitudes: "The fact of change or mutation taking place in a particular thing or within a certain sphere; the uncertain changing or mutability of something" (OED).
from Calais to Dover: The ports in Dover (shore of the UK) and Calais (shore of France) were common ports for travellers between the two countries.
Romeo, to pay her Poverty, and not her Will: Cf. Act 5, scene 1, lines 75-6, Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet:
Apothecary: My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Romeo: I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
Apothecary: My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Romeo: I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
To call back Yesterday: Cf. Act 3, scene 2, Shakespeare's Richard II: "O, call back yesterday, bid time return!" (l. 69).
Charity covereth a Multitude of Sins: Cf. 1 Peter 4:8: "And above all things have fervent charitie among your selves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins." (King James Bible, ca. 1611).
The Spectator: An allusion to the early eighteenth-century periodical The Spectator (1711-12), edited by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele.
Alack! . . . we would not: Cf. Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, 4.4.31-2
Proteus: A Greek god of the sea, known for changeability.
Pen in Gall . . . Spleen: A reference to the ancient Galenic model of the body, which was understood to consist of four humors: black bile, yellow bile, phlegm, and blood. Yellow bile, or gall, was thought to derive from the spleen, and was associated with an angry temperament. Fielding may also be alluding broadly to one of Lady Macbeth's most famous lines: "And take my milk for gall, you mudering ministers!" (Macbeth, 5.1.48).
He wrote about it, goddess, and about it: A reference to Book 4 of Alexander Pope's satire on learning and the literary marketplace, The Dunciad (3 books, 1728; expanded to 4 books, 1744), in which Pope writes, addressing the Goddess of Dulness,
For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head
With all such reading as was never read:
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it, Goddess, and about it:
So spins the silk-worm small its slender store,
And labours till it clouds itself all over. (l. 249-254)
For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head
With all such reading as was never read:
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it, Goddess, and about it:
So spins the silk-worm small its slender store,
And labours till it clouds itself all over. (l. 249-254)
a good Wife is a Crown to her Husband: See Proverbs 12:4.