Chapter IV: Part 4

Self-love is of the nature of the polypus; though you sever her
branches or arms, and even divide her trunk, yet she finds means to
reproduce herself. In consequence of the information the duke received
from this lady, who wrote to him in the character of an anonymous
friend, he left Paris and his mistress abruptly; and, to the great
surprise of his wife, came to--. He accosted her in a distant, but
respectful manner.--Nothing gives so sharp a point to one's aversion
as good-breeding--The duchess, unconscious of having given him any
occasion of offence, was highly delighted at his return, flattering
herself with a return of his affection. And as she considered him the
aggressor, received him graciously, insisting that no mention should
be made of past transactions; assuring him that she still retained
the same love for him, and as she regarded him as the first of human
beings, had perhaps been too sanguine in expecting his constancy,
as so many temptations must occur from his superiority to the rest
of mankind. She thought he was but too amiable--that his very vices
had charms beyond other men's _virtues_. Adding that (grievous as
his neglect had been to her) yet she had never done anything that
could reflect upon his honor! He heard her in a sullen humour;
his inclinations _were revived_ by remarking, that time, instead
of _diminishing_, had _added to her charms_: this increased his
resentment, and he answered, that the worst a bad woman can do, is to
make herself ridiculous; it is on herself only that she can entail
infamy--but men of honor have a degree of it to maintain, superior to
that which is in a woman's keeping. Had she had a mind to retaliate,
she might easily have said, that a man of honor and virtue which, in
themselves indeed, are always inseparably connected, are but too often
separated in the absurd and extravagant opinions of mankind. For what
a strange perversion of reason is it, to call a person a man of honor
who has scarcely a grain of virtue! She only observed, we are indeed
civilized into brutes; and a false idea of honor has almost reduced us
into Hob's first state of nature, by making us barbarous. Honor now is
no more than an imaginary being, worshipped by men of _the world_, to
which they frequently offer human sacrifices. He told her she needed
not _be troubled for her minion_: and retiring to rest, left her quite
at a loss to account for his conduct.

It is not sufficient we know our own innocence; it is necessary, for
a woman's happiness, not to be suspected.

For unfortunately after she has been once censured (however falsely)
she must expect the envenomed shafts of malice ever ready to be let
fly at her, and that in the transaction of any affairs that will admit
of two interpretations (to avoid the worst, and enjoy an unblemished
reputation). It is not enough to govern herself with propriety, there
must be nothing that will carry two interpretations in the _accidents
of her life_: A woman must therefore be necessarily always guilty,
when innocence has need of many justifications. Happy are those who
are not exposed to such inconveniences!

The Duke most injudiciously next morning publicly dismissed the
object of his jealousy, and, by his want of prudence, confirmed every
thing that had been falsely alledged against his innocent wife, who
continued ignorant of it for some months.

When acquainted with it--The less ground she saw for the reports
against her honor, the more courage and greater resolution she had
to condemn them. She thought herself unfortunate to have lost the
merit of her innocence by scandalous reports which she thanked Heaven
she had not incurred by her guilt: and was so far from slighting the
probabilities that might confirm opinions founded against her, that
she by no means thought herself in the same situation with others,
who had never _been contemned_, and that consequently she was not at
liberty to act on some occasions as _they might do_.

How many women _err_ from the obstinacy of people in defaming
them--they give up the point, despairing of success in conciliating
the esteem of a world who never _retract censure_--It is not with
detraction as it is with other things that displease by repetition:
Stories that have been told a thousand times, are still new when
revived to the prejudice of another. The duchess bore all these
calumnies with patience, _which_ was never yet a _solitary virtue_:
like an angler she endeavoured to humour the duke's waywardness,
flattering herself that her study to please would conquer his
disagreeable temper; and that if she could not become a pleasing wife,
she might at least be thought an agreeable companion, a serviceable
friend. Hope was the only blessing left us, when Pandora's fatal box
let out all the numberless evils which infest these sublunary regions.
But she was at last obliged to resign all ideas of submitting longer
to his caprices. He became jealous even of his menial servants; and
she could speak to no man without incurring his suspicions; which
produced to her the most mortifying scenes. Like that conqueror of
China, who forced his subjects into a general revolt, because he
wanted to oblige them to cut their hair and their nails, he reduced
her to form the resolution of leaving him, because (as he represented
it) _he had dismissed a servant_. But it was in reality his temper
and abuse that occasioned it--and when she was under the necessity of
taking that step, she rather let the world judge amiss of her, than
justify herself at her husband's expense. No condescensions on her
part could affect _him_, as daily experience convinced her, that from
a consciousness of the part he _himself had acted_, he could never
_love her_. Are there not many occasions in life in which it would be
reasonable to say, _I conjure you to forget and forgive the injury you
have done me_?

They at last parted amicably: she came to Rotterdam with her family,
and there I contracted an intimacy with her son, who was an amiable
young man about my own age. There I first beheld the lovely Adelaude,
Countess de Sons, the duchess's ward: the first time I saw _her_,
and the charming Julia, I know I had _a heart_; until then I was
insensible--These young ladies were instructed in all the arts of
Minerva; Julia was skilled in music; but the countess's voice was,
accompanied with the lyre, more moving than that of Orpheus. Her hair
hung waving in the wind without any ornament, which the duchess had
taught her to despise: her motions were all perfectly easy, her smiles
enchanting! Without dress she had beauty, unconscious of any, and
thus were heightened all her charms.

The marquis enquired what I thought of his sister, and her fair
friend? I answered, "They were charming," and asked if it was
possible he had resisted the charms of the beautiful countess? He
replied, "I will own to you, my dear friend, I have not: Adelaude
is formed for love; my heart is naturally susceptible; she has been
my constant companion: he must be something more, or something less
than a man (a god or a devil) who hath escaped, or who can resist
love's empire.--The gods of the heathens could not; Jupiter, Mars,
Mercury, Apollo, their amours are as famous as their names: so that
sturdiness in human nature, where it is found, which can resist,
argues plainly how much the devil is wrought up in the composition.
But if my sensibility had not been so great, yet so many opportunities
she has had to engage my affections, could not fail of rivetting
me her's for ever," "You are beloved then" said I hastily. "Yes,"
replied he, "Adelaude calls me her dearest brother; but entertains
no ideas beyond that relation; and I am fearful of letting her know
the extent of my sentiments, lest it should render her constrained in
her manner to me; and the charming _naiveté_ of her behaviour forms
the charms of my life! The marks of that innocent affection, which
first attached me to her, have hitherto been looked upon as a childish
play: and as no one has troubled their head about the consequences of
it, I have taken care to profit by the liberty allowed me.--You make
me no answer!--Wherefore this gloomy silence, your dejected air, and
languishing looks?" I pretended an indisposition, and left him under
the greatest oppressure of spirits; I loved, I adored the charming
Countess! judge then of the horror of my situation.--

How many sacrifices could I not willingly have made to friendship!
My passion I thought was indeed the only one I could not make: how was
it possible I should? but convinced of the happiness of my rival, what
did I not suffer? I saw a pair of happy lovers, suited to each other;
I thought it would be safe to alienate her affections; and considered
myself only in the light of a dependent on your bounty: in such a
situation, had my friend been uninterested, could I hazard addressing
a young lady of the countess's rank and fortune? I became melancholy
and _distrait_. Many people, and particularly those who have no idea
of that delicacy of passion peculiar to susceptible minds, looked on
me as a particular kind of a young man. To please such persons, I
must have devoted my time to them: you will easily conceive then, I
could well enough bear the want of their good opinion. Such become the
artificers of their own misfortunes, by the false idea they form of
pleasure, and they philtre (if I may use the term) their own sorrows.

It was what is called pleasure, that sunk into ruin the ancient
states of Greece; that destroyed the Romans, that overturns cities;
that corrupts courts; that exhausts the fortunes of the great; that
consumes youth; that has a retinue composed of satiety, indigence,
sickness, and death. But _my passion_, as much as a _dislike_ to
their _manner of life_, secured me from _their dissipations_. The
constant endeavours I used to suppress an inclination I could not
overcome, had a fatal effect on my constitution--I was threatened
with a consumption!--This I carefully concealed, lest your kindness
should have urged my removal from a place, which I could not determine
to quit: though I carefully avoided the sight of those who were
interesting to me in it.

At this time the marquis received a peremptory command to rejoin
his father. He came to me in the greatest distress: "How", said he,
"can I resolve to leave the countess?--She is now beautiful as an
angel, exclusive of her immense fortune; to remain single cannot
possibly be long in her power, for her beauty must necessarily strike
every eye, and charm every heart. But I will go and unburthen myself
to my father; her riches and rank will insure his approbation. You,
my friend, alone are acquainted with the secret of my heart. See
the lovely Adelaude often; to you I confide the secrets of my soul.
Farewel."

The marquis set out, and soon informed me that his father would not
yet hear of his marriage, and had insisted on his immediately joining
a regiment in which he had procured him a command: It was in time of
war; his honor at stake, and love was subordinate to his glory. The
susceptible mind is capable of enjoying a thousand exquisite delights
to which those are strangers, whose pleasures are less refined; but
what chagrin, what regret, what pain does not so delicate a passion
bring on the heart that entertains it? _Quand on est né trop tendre,
on ne doit pas aimer_, says some French author. But the sufferings
of my friend could not equal mine; the object of my passion being
daily before my eyes heightened my inquietude. The general characters
of men, I am apt to believe, are determined by their natural
constitutions, as their particular actions are by their immediate
objects. The innocent marks of partiality she honored me with, made me
in constant fears of acting dishonorably to the marquis. The duchess
fell soon after into a languishing illness, which in a short time put
a period to her life: The duke came, but _too late_, to receive her
last breath. He at first appeared inconsolable for her death; but
his grief insensibly decreased, and softened into that mournful and
tender regard, which a sense of her merit, and his own unkindness
to her, could not fail of exacting from him. Disgusted at an union,
which had caused him (from his own errors) so much uneasiness, he
formed a resolution carefully to avoid entering again into a similar
engagement. But he saw every day before him the lovely Adelaude: he
loved her; it was perhaps impossible for him to do otherwise. He
declared his passion; but was rejected: The countess told him her
affections were engaged! Next day I received the following letter.

From the Countess de Sons to the Earl of Munster.

My Lord,

I am well aware of the delicacy which prescribes certain
observances to our sex. But there is no rule in life which must not
vary with circumstances. Come to me this evening: Julia will be with
me--Adieu.

ADELAUDE de SONS.

I went--Abashed at the step she had taken, the cheeks of the lovely
Adelaude glowed with the most lovely red; her eyes sparkled with
the brightest lustre; while the loves and graces hovered around her
charming form, and fluttered on her breast--Love, almighty love,
preceded her steps, when she approached me. Heavens! how quick my
heart beat at that instant with pleasing hope! I endeavoured to speak
to her, but hesitated and trembled. After a few moments' expressive
silence, I desired to know what commands she meant to honor me with?
She was greatly confused, but at length told me the dilemma she was in
from the declaration of the duke's passion. To support my politics, I
began and talked of my friend.

She told me that his partiality was no secret to her, although he
had never disclosed it, but that she rejoiced at his absence, as it
would enable him to triumph over a passion she could _not return_.
Surprised at this declaration, I should have been wanting to myself
not to improve it. But love only can give an idea of those pleasures
we enjoyed in each other's company with reciprocal tenderness.
But _it_ affords few sweets that are not dashed with a mixture of
bitterness. Happy moments! how soon ye fled! a sad remembrance only of
that delightful interval left behind. Ah no, it is impossible I should
ever forget that day in which she first confessed those sentiments for
me my heart had long divined, the assurance of which, nevertheless,
gave me inexpressible transport. But when I reflected on my friend,
and that of my depressed circumstances, it gave a sudden check to
my joy. My sighs, my tears, made known to her the distress of my
heart! I could only utter the name of _my friend_, and wrung my hands
in despair. She soothed my uneasiness. "This is the fatal stroke I
feared" said the gentle Adelaude; "this is what my foreboding heart
presaged. But your interest does not interfere with his, for whom I
never experienced any thing more but that of a _sisterly affection_."

I then acquainted her with my dependent situation: that I should
be hurt at allying her so unsuitably, though had I had the wealth of
worlds it would have been hers. She told me her estate was sufficient
to enrich me: that the duke talked of leaving Rotterdam; she dreaded
being in the power of a man so impetuous, who would stick at nothing
to gratify his passions; and that she would place herself under my
protection. Infatuated I was, not to comply with her request! My
friend's woes wounded me to the quick: false honor determined me to
write and inform him of the state of the affair, previous to my
taking advantage of her inclination for me. I wrote instantly to the
marquis; but a few days after the duke set out for Italy with his
family. The night before their departure I saw the countess. "Thou
must go," said I, "and with thee all my joy, my happiness, my only
hope--Go, and take with thee all my heart holds dear, all that is
left for me is despair. Reason will resume its empire over love, and
you will forget a poor unfortunate, who hath nothing to offer but the
most pure and ardent affection; an affection in which consists all the
happiness of his life."

"Ah, my lord," said she, "forbear to speak a language so injurious
to your merit and my sentiments. Can I cease to love you? Can I forget
you? No! whilst my heart beats it will be yours, and yours only--I
will preserve myself for you, and nothing can ever make me forgetful
of the engagements I have made with you."

The conflict of contending passions had tortured me so much, that
I confess, I was rather relieved, when they set out, and when it was
out of my power to have realized the charming scheme the countess had
suggested to me. What forbearance did it not cost me? Nothing is more
common than for men to declaim against those things which they are
not in a capacity to enjoy: Diogenes said to Aristippus the courtier,
as he passed him in his tub, "If you could content yourself, as I do,
with _bread_ and _garlic_, you would not be the _slave_ of the King of
Syracuse:" "Are you," replied Aristippus, "if you _knew_ how to _live
with princes_, you would not make such _bad cheer_."

Perhaps the circumstances of age, health, and fortune, vary the
taste, and regulate the appetites of mankind more than reason and
reflection.

But everything conspired to render the sacrifice I had made a _great
one_ to _friendship_. I soon received the following letter from Julia.

"My Lord,

The countess is so closely watched, that she cannot write. Would
to God you had followed your inclinations! We are going to Sweden:
follow us, if possible, and repair the error you have committed. I
am fearful she will be constrained to choose another husband. Adieu.

JULIA de VILLEROI."

Upon the receipt of this letter I went to Sweden; but could hear no
tidings of those I pursued. I became quite melancholy, and seldom went
abroad, but could not refuse being introduced by the Baron de R---- to
the Queen Dowager, who is an exalted character: she is sister to the
reigning King of Prussia, is the avowed protectress of letters, and
encourager of merit: and during her husband's life possessed an almost
unlimited influence over affairs of state; but at present leads a more
retired and secluded life. She is perfect mistress of Latin, as well
as the modern languages.

The present King of Sweden at the age of twenty-six changed the
form of government, without blood or difficulty. Sweden can boast
of her two Gustavus's, the first and second; nor are her Christina,
or her Charles, unknown to fame. In what country is not the name of
Peter celebrated, the greatest legislator that modern times have seen?
Hearing no tidings of the duke's family, I made out my northern tour.
In Denmark the sun of genius has not yet blazed from a throne, and
shed a temporary lustre on the surrounding darkness; if we except
the celebrated Margaret de Waldemar, to whom history has given the
epithet of the _Semiramis_ of the north, who united under her reign
all the kingdoms beneath the polar sky, Denmark, Norway, and Sweden.
There are, however, two favourite monarchs of Danish story. The first
of these was Christian IV, who was the opponent and competitor of
Gustavus Adolphus, but with far inferior fame. The last was Frederic
IV. This prince loved the arts, and made two visits to Italy, one
previous to his ascending the throne, and one after it. During a
carnival at Venice, he resided in that city, and in one evening is
said to have won, at the card-table, a bank worth one hundred thousand
pounds sterling, which he immediately presented to a noble Venetian
lady, in whose house this happened, and whose whole fortunes were
involved in this game of chance: All the company were in masque.

I cannot omit mentioning the literary merit of the ladies in
Denmark; which has already been taken notice of by Lord Molesworth,
who says, that Tycho Brahe's sister, and especially Dorothea
Engelerechtie, may contend with the famous poetesses of the ancients.
The lady Brigetta Tot has translated Seneca the philosopher into the
Danish tongue, with all the elegance any language is capable of, and
has conspired with our ingenious countrywoman Miss Carter[27], to
shew that the most rugged philosophy of the stoics must submit, when
the fair-sex is pleased to conquer. But I forget who I am writing
to--Thanks to your extensive reading--I have nothing to tell you that
has been written and published before. I shall only observe, that I
met with many ingenious men abroad who held the English cheap. I can
account for this in no other way, than that they form their judgment
of us only by the _philosophical transactions_. Absorbed in deep
melancholy, on account of my ignorance of the fate of Countess de
Sons, I went little into company, but applied myself constantly to
study: I amused myself in painting; the cataract of the river Dahl
is the subject of one of my pieces. The tremendous roar of these
cataracts, which, when close, is superior to the loudest thunder; the
vapours which rise incessantly from them, and even obscure them from
the eye in many parts; the agitation of the river below for several
hundred yards before it resumes its former tranquillity; and the
sides covered with tall firs; form one of the most picturesque and
astonishing scenes to be beheld in nature's volume.

Wrapt up one day in the contemplation of this scene, Lord Ogilby
whom I became acquainted with at Upsal, approached me under an
apparent agitation of spirits. We lived much together, but I had
observed him very absent, and missed him several evenings. My Lord,
said he, near this place resides all that my soul holds dear: I am
in love--in love, to a degree I never felt till now. I am myself
astonished at it. But blame me not until you see the object of my
affections. He said, that he had been charmed with a young woman's
figure and beauty, and that she appeared to be possessed of the
greatest modesty, prudence, and good humour. He finished his
panegyric with saying, _how happy will that man be who first inspires
her gentle heart with love_!

I accompanied Lord Ogilby (who remained silent) for about a hundred
yards, when we approached a cottage.

A window being opened, he said to me, There, my Lord, you can see
her without being observed. I looked, and beheld a most exquisite
Beauty. She was of a fair complexion, had fine full blue languishing
eyes, which sparked through the long lashes of their beautiful lids,
and expressed, with the most innocent simplicity, all that an insipid
coquet attempts in vain. When she perceived we looked at her, it
heightened the vermilion on her cheeks, through the consciousness that
they betrayed the extreme sensibility of her heart; and if even the
rest of her person had not been equally engaging, yet the bewitching
sweetness of her countenance alone would have intitled her to be
ranked among the first class of pleasing Beauties.--A beautiful boy
of about two years of age, whose hair flowed in natural ringlets like
her own, was playing beside her while she was making some artificial
flowers. Her dress was a brown camblet jacket and petticoat clasped at
the breast.

Upon perceiving us she arose, and received us with the greatest
politeness--It was easy for us to conceive she had been accustomed
to genteel life. She acquainted us that whatever honor we might do
her in condescending to come into that poor cottage, yet she must for
the future desire we would not repeat our visit. As it was entirely
contrary to her plans, and to those views which determined her to
retire to that place. There appeared in her a timid bashfulness;
but as this seemed to proceed from the fear of _my friend_, who had
been importunate lover, and was a proof of the purity of her heart
instead of an awkwardness, it appeared a grace. Yes, I repeat it,
this bashfulness appeared in her quite engaging; for as the shade in
a beautiful picture, it served to set off the masterly strokes of the
piece. Lord Ogilby assured her in my hearing, that he had no views but
which were highly honourable, that if she would give him her hand he
would make her his wife. "I am one of those, said he, who have ever
despised the common prejudices of mankind, particularly in the affair
of love. A fine person, a graceful carriage, an amiable disposition,
are all the titles or wealth I should look for in a woman. You
possess all these advantages, and to them add the greatest delicacy
of sentiment--so many charms compensate for the want of those other
qualifications the injustice of fortune has deprived you of."--"Hymen,
my lord, answered she, can have no joys for me, and I am sure will
never light his torch on my account; for I have fountains of tears
which would soon extinguish it!" What was my surprise to discover
this beautiful girl (for her age did not appear to exceed eighteen)
so accomplished, that she could read the Iliad of Homer, the Georgics
of Virgil, the inimitable Cervantes, and the plays of Terence, in the
original languages, with great ease! She was a _Hebe_, with the head
of a philosopher, the knowledge of a divine, accompanied with all the
exterior accomplishments the most finished education could bestow.
As we found her fond of reading, we carried her a book of periodical
papers then just written at Vienna. The next time I saw her I inquired
if she approved of it--she replied she was no judge; but that she
apprehended humour in writing chiefly consists in an imitation of the
foibles or absurdities of mankind; so our pleasure in this species of
composition, arises from comparing the picture with the original in
nature, which she had no opportunity of doing.

In the works of our own countrymen we have frequent opportunities
of making this comparison, as the originals are generally before us:
But when we read the productions of foreigners, as their portraits are
copied from manners with which we are not sufficiently acquainted,
they must often appear forced and unnatural. There is a cast of
humour, as well as of manners, peculiar to each country; and this
is what makes every nation give the preference to its own humorous
subjects. Nor is this preference ill founded, since the several
drawings are made from originals widely different from each other; and
as in portrait-painting, the value of the picture is enhanced by our
connections with the person who sat for it; so here we must approve
those pieces the originals of which we are best acquainted with. The
language of humour is also in every country different from that used
upon common occasions, which makes foreign satire an exotic of too
delicate a nature to bear transplanting.

I was not surprised at my friend's situation; nothing I _then_
supposed could have secured my own heart from her attractions but its
being pre-engaged. All the great heroes, the scripture worthies in
particular, have had their _Delilah's_, to whose bewitching charms
they have _one and all yielded_; reluctantly some, and fondly others;
_these_ proving their wisdom, and _those_ their folly; since _there is
no enchantment against beauty_, nor any thing it cannot enchant.

But notwithstanding my predilection in her favor, prudence suggested
to me that my friend's passion might hurry him into an improper
connection. I therefore inquired particularly concerning this lovely
woman. I found she had resided there fifteen months, having brought
with her a maid, and the child whom we had seen: that soon after her
arrival she had disposed of some valuable effects; and that she had
employed herself since that period in making artificial flowers, which
her maid carried to--and disposed of them: that it was with great
pleasure they observed she was now much more cheerful than she had
been at first. That she was very regular in her conduct; never saw any
person, nor went abroad but for divine service or a little air and
exercise. This account served only to increase my friend's passion. He
left nothing unsaid, nothing undone, to convince her of his sincerity;
but she remained inexorable! We were there one day; when I took the
liberty of remonstrating with her on this subject: She was affected,
and said, "My lord, you distress me greatly; but at once to relieve
myself _from your_ friend's importunities, and to prove _to you_ how
unavailable _his_ pursuit _is_, I must be reduced to the humiliating
detail of _my sorrows_: then, pointing to the lovely boy, she added,
that cherub calls me _mother_, although his cruel father has not given
me the name _of wife_: let this, my lord, render you unsolicitous
concerning me."

Lord Ogilby, though struck at the intelligence, assured her, that
she was infinitely superior in his eyes to women of the world, who
vainly flatter themselves, that, while they appear _not_ to be
conscious of their errors, mankind never discover _their follies_!
that he respected her candour, he would be a father to her lovely
boy, and, by his tender faithful attachment, atone for her former
disappointment. She said every thing a sensible heart could feel on
the sense she had of the honor he did in addressing her on such
honorable terms, in the strange situation he found her in; but added,
her heart might break, but that in breaking it must be the entire
property of Sir Harry Bingley!

I am very sensible, my lords, continued Miss Harris, that the
foibles of those to whom we are indebted for our existence, though
open to the attack of all the world beside, ought to be sacred to us.
But it is incumbent on me to paint my father's character, in order to
inform you of the origin of my misfortunes. He was the younger son of
a family of distinction, had received every advantage of education,
and had travelled all over the world; which he himself said had
divested him of many narrow prejudices! But this was not sufficient
for him--he must triumph over reason and nature. He was too wise to
adopt the opinions of his fore-fathers, yet at the same time too
indolent to establish any of his own; and as he lived without system,
he made present convenience the rule of his conduct. His virtues
consequently were _accidental_--but his vices _habitual_. A clergyman
that kept him company countenanced _his errors_, and confirmed _my
belief_, that religious duties were only an _imposition on the
vulgar_. I am sure, my lord, you must agree with me in thinking that
_immorality_ in a _clergyman_ is as unpardonable as _cowardice_ in
a _soldier_. _One_ flies from the foes of his _king_ and _country_;
the _other_ justifies the _enemies of his God_. My father married
a young lady of large fortune. She had received a very religious
education, and had too much sensibility not to be exceedingly wounded
at his infidelity. He told her it was very well she thought as _she
did_--that all capacities cannot command a sufficient degree of
attention to pursue the intricacies of philosophical speculation;
neither if they could, are they endowed with proper powers of
perception to discern and judge for themselves. As these must
necessarily be governed by prejudices, if you remove them, you leave
such weak objects without any principle _whatever_.

My mother answered, that the apostles were no _meta-physicians_: nor
did their blessed master teach them any thing that should make them
so. Wherefore she contented herself with their plain instructions,
finding much more satisfaction from them than she did from any human
writers, especially those who use so many and so nice distinctions,
tending more to _puzzle_ than _enlighten_ the understanding, and
having little effect upon the heart to make it better. It is to me, I
own, (said she) no recommendation of any cause, that the abettors of
it are obliged to have recourse to _abstruse terms_, and especially
when they introduce such terms into any system that pretends to be
Christian. I admire no scholastic phrases, or terms of art, when
applied to a doctrine which is matter of revelation only; and wherein
neither schools nor arts have any thing to say further, nor can say
any thing more clearly or more certainly than what God hath said. I
am far from commending any imposition upon men's judgment, or any
dictating by one man what is to be believed by another! But here my
father interrupted her; and, in a passion, made use of terms delicacy
prevents a repetition of--adding, neither _man_ nor _woman_ should
dictate or make a fool of him! That religion, etc. etc. varied in
different countries, as he had often observed something in the
climate, soil, or situation of _each_, which had great influence in
establishing its particular mode of superstition. Thus in Syria they
worship the sun, moon, and stars, as they live in a flat country,
enjoying a constant serenity of sky; and the origin and progress of
that error may be traced in a certain connection between those objects
of worship considered physically, and their characters as divinities.

Thus the pomp and magnificence with which the sun is worshipped
in Syria, said he, and the human victims sacrificed to him, seem
altogether to mark an awful reverence, paid rather to his power than
to his beneficence, in a country where the violence of his heat is
destructive to vegetation, as it is in many other respects very
troublesome to the inhabitants. Superstition, since the world began,
has consisted of every particular, which either people's _fears_ or
their _follies_, either the _strength_ of their _imagination_, or
the _weakness_ of their _judgment_, or the _design_ and _artifice_
of their _leaders_, taught them to _embrace_, in order to please any
being, or order of beings, superior to themselves, whom they made
the objects of their religious regards. My mother answered, that the
unbeliever changes nothing of the design of God, when he dares to
rise up against him--He ever enters into his plan, where the evil
concurs with the good, for the harmony of _this_ world, and the good
of the _next_. I need not, my lords, tire you with an account of
these particulars, further than to mark the difference of my parents
characters--these arguments recurring often, in the end produced such
contentions, that it impaired my mother's health--she died, and left
me under the guidance of a father, _totally unfit_ for that _important
trust_ He endeavoured to impress me with his sentiments of religion,
etc. If I imbibed his ideas, could I be blamed for it? Is it not
injurious and ridiculous to censure others for thinking in the same
manner we ourselves should have done under the same circumstances?
For if we do not consult our reason (which in matters of religion
is prohibited us) the capacity and credulity of individuals are
different, in consequence of their diversity of temperament,
education, and experience. And it would be still more absurd to
reprobate the rest of mankind, for not believing what we ourselves
do _not_, nor can be made _to believe_. But to return to my father:
About a year after my mother's death, when I was only eight years old,
he set out for Italy, and returned home inebriated with a love for
antiquity--He could sit all day in contemplation of a statue without a
nose, and doated on the decays with greater love than the self-loved
Narcissus did on his beauty. Sir Harry Bingley did me the honor to
address me; but my father, on his first proposal, would not hear of
it; he wished me to marry a brother antiquarian, who was desirous,
among other pieces of age and time, to have one young face be seen to
call him father. My lover told him, he would pray to Heaven to have
merit or deserve me--He returned, "When your prayer is answered, renew
your suit; but if you stay till then, you must have spectacles to see
her beauty with." Had Sir Harry appeared to him like a Sibyl's son,
or with a face rugged as father Nilus is pictured on the hangings, it
would have been otherwise. But the qualities, which recommended him
_to me_, produced the contrary effect on _my father_.

Signor Crustino, whom he favored, had presented him with books,
that he said were written before the Punic war; and some of Terence's
hundred and fifty comedies that were lost in the Adriatic sea, when
he returned from banishment.--There were powerful inducements--He
commanded me to marry him: I expostulated, but without effect. Had
Sir Harry Bingley been old in any thing, even in iniquity, I believe
he would have shown him some respect. Had he not, said he, the
indiscretion to betray weakness, even to myself? did not he mention
that his _old_ rents produced one thousand a year; but that he had
made _new_ leases, and doubled them; and by the sale of a gallery of
pictures had paid his father's debts? O such preposterous folly! he
values more his gold, than whatever Apelles or Phidias have invented!
"What is more honorable than age?" said he: "Is not wisdom entailed
on it? It takes the pre-eminence in everything: antiquities are the
registers, the chronicles of the age, and speak the truth of history
better than a hundred of your printed commentaries!" It was in vain
I pleaded a contrary opinion; my tears had no power to mollify his
stony heart. I was ordered to prepare for my wedding; which I was
determined, at all events, should not take place. In the mean time
Sir Harry Bingley's passion was increased by the difficulty of
obtaining me, as the lovers of the fair Danäe desired her more when
she was locked up in the brazen tower. He was importunate with me to
elope: inclination pressed hard on one side, duty on the other; I was
torn with contending passions: my distraction was increased by the
preparations for the marriage feast. My father took his bill of fare
out of Athenæus, and ordered the most surprizing dishes imaginable.
But I was reprieved by a most extraordinary accident--He was possessed
of a couple of old manuscripts, said to have been found in a wall, and
stored up with the foundation: he supposed them the writing of some
prophetess--They were, he said, of the old Roman binding: And though
the characters were so imperfect, that time had eaten out the letters,
and the dust made a parenthesis betwixt every syllable, yet he was
inconsolable upon discovering he had lost them; and suspected his
brother antiquary of the theft, _such_ generally being very _adroit_
on _pilfering_--Words arose on the subject; they parted in wrath;
my father declaring the marriage should not be celebrated. Signor
Crustino next day wrote a mollifying letter, intreating his acceptance
of several other manuscripts, which he said were dug out of the ruins
of Aquileia, after it was sacked by Attila, King of the Hunns.--But
he returned them with indignation, and took to his bed, where he
remained nine months in a very lingering condition--then died--leaving
me a prey to the oppressive insolence of proud prosperity.--It is that
only which can inflict a wound on the ingenuous mind.--These are the
stings of poverty! Misfortunes never create respect: dependence of
course meets with many slights--On such occasions, some show their
_malice_, and are witty on our _misfortunes_; others their judgment,
by sage reflections on our conduct; but few their charity.--They
alone have a right to censure, who have hearts to assist: the rest is
cruelty, not justice[28].

I found that my father's collection of curiosities, for which he
had expended all his fortune, did no more than pay his debts. On this
occasion all my acquaintances forsook me. A rich aunt was the only
person who recollected such a being existed (my lover excepted).
She afforded me help, but more as if she had been giving _alms_ to
a _stranger_, than _relief_ to a relation. How few are acquainted
with the art of conferring favors in that happy manner that doubles
the value of the obligation! If in doing good, people consulted the
circumstances and inclinations of those they oblige--if, instead of
shocking their self-love, (inherent in us all) they knew how to take
advantage of it, with as much address as the flatterer employs to
gain his ends, the empire of morality would long ago have extended
its bounds, and the numbers of its adherents would have greatly
increased.--This is the more easily done, as the _distressed_ think
any mark of attention shown them by the _wealthy_, _a real favor_--But
_neglect_ in general is the _portion_ of the _necessitous_--and
_outrage alone_ employed to recover _the guilty_.

Lord Ogilby could not help here, with some warmth, asking where Sir
Harry Bingley was all this time. Miss Harris bowed, and resumed her
story. "Alas!" said she, "the Marquis of M---- his uncle, on whom he
had considerable expectations, insisted on his marrying Lady Ann
Frivolité--and though he absolutely declined this overture, he thought
in prudence, he ought to defer for some time entering into another
engagement until he could bring his uncle to hearken to it."

My necessities increasing, relying entirely on the honor of my
lover, I permitted him to conduct me to a seat he had in a remote
part of the country--It was a frightful dismal house surrounded with
yews and willows, whose different forms recalled to my ideas Ovid's
Metamorphoses, and made me sometimes ready to bemoan the fate of
unhappy lovers converted into evergreens by the supposed enchantress
of this dreary mansion. The house had been long uninhabited: by the
blackness of the walls, the circular fires, vast cauldrons, yawning
mouths of ovens and furnaces, one would conclude, it was either the
forge of Vulcan, the cave of Polypheme, or the temple of Moloch. The
hangings of the apartments were indeed the finest in the world; that
is to say, which Arachne spins from her own bowels. But the affection,
the tender respectful behaviour of my lover was _everything to me_.
He said he made no doubt but the marquis, when convinced of my merit,
would approve of his passion! Unwilling to see him continue in so
delusive an error, I told him there was little probability of reviving
the golden age in his family; or, hoping that the benevolence of his
own heart would become epidemical, was an illusion! that relations or
parents saw things in a very different light from their children; as
the sentiment of the former arose from cool reflection, and as those
of the latter commonly resulted from the caprice of an irregular
imagination, or the violence of an impetuous passion, which prompted
them to act sometimes in direct opposition to the salutary advice
of their best friends.--He replied, that granting that were even
the case--the Marquis of M---- could not live for ever--but that no
power on earth could induce him to sacrifice his happiness; that he
had a _competent_, though not _great_ estate of his own--and would
marry me directly, if I chose it, or would take the most solemn oath
imaginable, to do it as soon as circumstances rendered it prudent
with safety. I consequently rejected agreeing to his proposal: I
could not bear the idea of my lover's running the risk of losing a
family inheritance on my account; though a possibility of possession
altering his sentiments, never entered into my imagination. We
remained three months together, the happiest time of my life: Happy
moments, how soon you fled, never, never to return!

Miss Harris here blushed and stopped; we encouraged her to proceed.
With some hesitation, she added, At that time my lover's importunity
prevailed; I resigned myself to his wishes. I had his solemn promise
he would ratify our engagement at the altar; and my father had
instilled notions into me of marriage being only a civil institution:
he had often said, that the marriages among the Israelites were not
attended with any religious ceremonies, except the prayers of the
father of the family, and the standers by, to beg the blessing of God.
We have examples of it in the marriage of Rebecca with Isaac, of Ruth
with Boaz. We do not read that God acted the part of a priest to join
Adam and Eve together, only that of a father to the young woman, in
giving her away--_For he brought her to the man_: We do not see, he
used to say, that there were any sacrifices offered upon the occasion;
that they went to the temple, or sent to the priests. So that it was
no more than a civil contract. I also knew the present custom in
Sicily and in Holland. Thus I justified myself _to myself_, though
not effectually; but I was willing then _to believe_ what I _wished_;
as no inconvenience _to myself_ could equally affect me in its
consequences, as my lover losing his fortune on _my account_, which
made me decline marrying him at that time. And I firmly relied on his
honor, whom from that time I considered, and shall do, as my husband.
With this difference--if a woman survives her husband, after some
time set apart for decency, there are many circumstances may combine
to render a second attachment eligible. But one who like me has
evinced a weakness must be more exemplary in every other part of her
character, and more tenacious in her conduct, least the _particular
affection_ which occasioned _her error_, should be imputed to her as a
_depravity_. The event will prove, how requisite it is, for the good
of society, that certain rules should be established, the infringers
of which ought to suffer, for the good of the community.

The effect of our passion was soon evident in my person--but sorry
I am to relate, grieved to repeat it--he left me; and at a time
when I expected every minute to become a mother; without affording
me one single line to _comfort_ or _relieve_ my mind from a state of
distraction, little short of madness. I was at last told he had been
obliged to set out on confidential business to the continent! Alas, in
what way did I lose his confidence? His _glory_ was dearer to me than
my _own life_; and had he told me of the circumstances, I should have
_urged_ his _departure_, instead of wishing to _protract_ his stay.

I was in despair for his unkindness! Had my steps been strewed with
flowers, had I been possessed of every outward accommodation wealth
could bestow, alas, how unavailing would all these advantages have
been to me! but in my situation, oppressed, afflicted, and surrounded
with mortifications, ignorant even of the means of my future support,
and that of his child, how dreadfully were my woes increased! This
mark of his inattention redoubled my grief. An assortment of flowers,
plants, etc. arrived after his departure, which only served to remind
me of the happiness I had proposed myself from their cultivation in
his company: but I could not live by their scent, like a Dutch damsel,
nor was I descended of Cameleons that could be kept with air. In my
despair I refused all kind of nourishment; but a worthy girl who lived
with me, recovered me from this _reverie_. If you are resolved, madam,
(said she) never to eat a morsel more during your existence, your
behaviour at present is very consistent; but if you design ever to do
so, believe me that this is the best time you can possibly do so for
yourself, exclusive of your child, who must suffer with you. The last
argument was a prevailing one--I enquired for food, and eat greedily.

I was soon afterwards delivered of a lovely boy--I took him in my
arms--each feature depicted his beloved, though cruel father! He has
since been my only solace, comfort, and happiness--were I hunted out
of society, and were I to meet with every species of abuse on _his
account_, he would be infinitely more interesting to me than all that
the world could confer upon me.

After two months, during which time I flattered myself I should
hear from Sir Harry, though my hopes proved too sanguine, I removed
from his house--I cared not where I went, if distant from a place he
could discover me in, at a time when his capricious passion might
bring him back to me. Many unfortunate women, in such a situation,
give themselves up (as Ariadne did) to Bacchus, from the day they are
deserted--But a superior education taught me better. My maid's brother
was a captain of a ship; I agreed with him to bring us to this place.
My child justified my keeping a few valuable trinkets Sir Harry had
given me, which I should otherwise have returned--I set out, and,
philosopher-like, carried all my possessions about me. These trinkets,
and industry, have hitherto supported us--I revere virtue, though I
have unhappily swerved from the established rules of virtue _in my
country_--but I have the same warm affection for virtuous people, the
same tenderness for the unhappy, and the same regard for those whom
prosperity hath not blinded!

Lord Ogilby replied, Sir Harry Bingley must have been nursed among
rocks, and suckled by tigers, to have used you thus! But you, even
now, would prefer being the object of his licentious passion, rather
than to become my virtuous wife! Miss Harris bowed, and replied,
I flattered myself, my lord, that I had, though not without great
confusion to myself, made you acquainted with my character--I
therefore am highly superior to the inference you have indelicately
made. I shall owe my future innocence to the sense I have of my
lover's perfidy; as the sore wound the viper gives, the viper best
cures. But my unfortunate circumstances exclude my ever thinking of
any other of the sex: All the rest of mankind _are_, and must remain
to me _a distinct species_. I would much rather die a thousand deaths,
than that my heart should have once conceived such a thought! I have
imprinted him in my heart in such deep characters, that nothing can
rase it out, unless it rub my heart out. Although he has left me to
be for ever miserable--may he be blessed--and may the fair-one whom
he selects to be his happy, happy wife, love him the hundredth part I
did! In this cottage will I remain! here dedicate my life to industry,
to procure for the child of the man I love, the means of food and
education: and when the great God calls upon me to offer up an account
of all my deeds, I _cannot_, _do not_ believe, I shall be found very
defective in what his justice will exact from me. Though I lament the
error I fell into, and am now convinced that we can have no distinct
notions of human happiness, without the previous knowledge of the
human constitution, of all its active and perceptive powers, and their
natural objects: therefore the most natural method of proceeding in
the science of morals, is to begin with inquiring into our several
natural determinations, and the objects from whence our happiness
can arise.--This, my lord, I have carefully done--my resolution is
consequently fixed. Lord Ogilby again said, Madam, let me still
intreat you to consider--If you have any hopes of his return, of all
old debts, love, when it comes to be so, is paid the most unwillingly;
and all you get by your constancy, is the loss of that beauty for
_one lover_, which independent of my proposal to you, would procure
you the vows, sacrifice, and service, of _a thousand_! She renewed
her thanks for his lordship's good opinion; added, she entertained no
hopes such as he had suggested, and must only beg leave to add, before
she concluded, after entreating we would conceal his name, that it was
not only a partiality for his person, but admiration of his character,
that must bind her for ever his.

Lord Ogilby consigned a sum of money with her maid, that in case
indisposition should interfere with her plans, she should still
encounter no inconveniences.