"Loveliest in their fears—And by this silent adulation, soft,To their protection more engaging man."
'Pshaw!' replied Mr Courtney, a little peevishly—'you will persuade Emma, that the age of chivalry is not yet over; and that giants and ravishers are as common now, as in the time of Charlemagne: a young woman of sense and spirit needs no other protection; do not flatter the girl into affectation and imbecility. If blank paper be your passion, you can be at no loss; the town will supply quires and reams.'
'There I differ from you,' said the gentleman on the opposite side of the table; 'to preserve the mind a blank, we must be both deaf and blind, for, while any inlet to perception remains, your paper will infallibly contract characters of some kind, or be blotted and scrawled!'
'For God's sake! do not let us begin to philosophise,' retorted his antagonist, who was not to be easily silenced.
'I agree with you,'—rejoined the other—'thinkingis undoubtedly very laborious, andprincipleequally troublesome and impertinent.'
I looked at him as he finished speaking, and caught his eye for a moment; its expression methought was doubtful. The man of fashion continued to expatiate in rhetorical periods—He informed us, that he had fine feelings, but they never extended beyond selfish gratification. For his part, he had as much humanity as any man, for which reason he carefully avoided the scene or the tale of distress. He, likewise, had his opinions, but their pliability rendered them convenient to himself, and accommodating to his friends. He had courage to sustain fatigue and hardship, when, not his country, but vanity demanded the exertion. It was glorious to boast of having travelled two hundred miles in eight and forty hours, and sat up three nights, to be present, on two succeeding evenings, at a ball in distant counties.
'This man,' I said to myself, while I regarded him with a look of ineffable scorn—'takes a great deal of pains to render himself ridiculous, he surely must have a vile heart, or a contemptible opinion of mankind: if he be really the character he describes, he is a compound of atrocity and folly, and a pest to the world; if he slanders himself, what must be that state of society, the applause of which he persuades himself is to be thus acquired?' I sighed deeply;—in either case the reflection was melancholy;—my eyes enquired—'Am I to hate or to despise you?' I know not whether he understood their language, but he troubled me no more with his attentions.
I reflected a little too seriously:—I have since seen many a prating, superficial coxcomb, who talks to display his oratory—mere words—repeated by rote, to which few ideas are affixed, and which are uttered and received with equal apathy.
During three years, I continued my weekly visits to Berkley square; I was not always allowed to join the parties who assembled there, neither indeed would it have been proper, for they were a motley groupe; when permitted so to do, I collected materials for reflection. I had been educated by my aunt, in strict principles of religion; many of Mr Courtney's friends were men of wit and talents, who, occasionally, discussed important subjects with freedom and ability: I never ventured to mingle in the conversations, but I overcame my timidity sufficiently to behave with propriety and composure; I listened attentively to all that was said, and my curiosity was awakened to philosophic enquiries.
Mr Courtney now entrusted me with the keys of the bookcases, through which I ranged with ever new delight. I went through, by my father's direction, a course of historical reading, but I could never acquire a taste for this species of composition. Accounts of the early periods of states and empires, of the Grecian and Roman republics, I pursued with pleasure and enthusiasm: but when they became more complicated, grew corrupt, luxurious, licentious, perfidious, mercenary, I turned from them fatigued, and disgusted, and sought to recreate my spirits in the fairer regions of poetry and fiction.
My early associations rendered theology an interesting subject to me; I read ecclesiastical history, a detail of errors and crimes, and entered deeply into polemic divinity: my mind began to be emancipated, doubts had been suggested to it, I reasoned freely, endeavoured to arrange and methodize my opinions, and to trace them fearlessly through all their consequences: while from exercising my thoughts with freedom, I seemed to acquire new strength and dignity of character. I met with some of the writings of Descartes, and was seized with a passion for metaphysical enquiries. I began to think about the nature of the soul—whether it was a composition of the elements, the result of organized matter, or a subtle and etherial fire.
In the course of my researches, the Heloise of Rousseau fell into my hands.—Ah! with what transport, with what enthusiasm, did I peruse this dangerous, enchanting, work!—How shall I paint the sensations that were excited in my mind!—the pleasure I experienced approaches the limits of pain—it was tumult—all the ardour of my character was excited.—Mr Courtney, one day, surprised me weeping over the sorrows of the tender St Preux. He hastily snatched the book from my hand, and, carefully collecting the remaining volumes, carried them in silence to his chamber: but the impression made on my mind was never to be effaced—it was even productive of a long chain of consequences, that will continue to operate till the day of my death.
My time at this period passed rapidly and pleasantly. My father never treated me with affection; but the austerity of his manner gradually subsided. He gave me, occasionally, useful hints and instructions. Without feeling for him any tenderness, he inspired me with a degree of respect. The library was a source of lively and inexhaustible pleasure to my mind; and, when admitted to the table of Mr Courtney, some new character or sentiment frequently sharpened my attention, and afforded me subjects for future enquiry and meditation. I delighted to expatiate, when returning to the kind and hospitable mansion of my beloved aunt, (which I still considered as my home) on the various topics which I had collected in my little emigrations. I was listened to by my cousins with a pleasure that flattered my vanity, and looked up to as a kind of superior being;—a homage particularly gratifying to a young mind.
The excellent woman, who had been my more than mother, took infinite pains to cure the foibles, which, like pernicious weeds, entangled themselves with, and sometimes threatened to choak, the embryo blossoms of my expanding mind. Ah! with what pleasure do I recall her beloved idea to my memory! Fostered by her maternal love, and guided by her mild reason, how placid, and how sweet, were my early days!—Why, my first, my tenderest friend, did I lose you at that critical period of life, when the harmless sports and occupations of childhood gave place to the pursuits, the passions and the errors of youth?—With the eloquence of affection, with gentle, yet impressive persuasion, thou mightest have checked the wild career of energetic feeling, which thou hast so often remarked with hope and terror.
As I entered my eighteenth year, I lost, by a premature death, this tender monitor. Never shall I forget her last emphatic, affectionate, caution.
'Beware, my dear Emma,' said this revered friend, 'beware of strengthening, by indulgence, those ardent and impetuous sensations, which, while they promise vigour of mind, fill me with apprehension for the virtue, for the happiness of my child. I wish not that the canker-worm, Distrust, should blast the fair fruit of your ripening virtues. The world contains many benevolent, many disinterested, spirits; but civilization is yet distempered and imperfect; the inequalities of society, by fostering artificial wants, and provoking jealous competitions, have generated selfish and hostile passions. Nature has been vainly provident for her offspring, while man, with mistaken avidity, grasping more than he has powers to enjoy, preys on his fellow man:—departing from simple virtues, and simple pleasures, in their stead, by common consent, has a wretched semblance been substituted. Endeavour to contract your wants, and aspire only to a rational independence; by exercising your faculties, still the importunate suggestions of your sensibility; preserve your sincerity, cherish the ingenuous warmth of unsophisticated feeling, but let discernment precede confidence. I tremble even for the excess of those virtues which I have laboured to cultivate in your lively and docile mind. If I could form a wish for longer life, it is only for my children, and that I might be to my Emma instead of reason, till her own stronger mind matures. I dread, lest the illusions of imagination should render those powers, which would give force to truth and virtue, the auxiliaries of passion. Learn to distinguish, with accuracy, the good and ill qualities of those with whom you may mingle: while you abhor the latter, separate the being from his errors; and while you revere the former, the moment that your reverence becomes personal, that moment, suspect that your judgment is in danger of becoming the dupe of your affections.'
Would to God that I had impressed upon my mind—that I had recalled to my remembrance more frequently—a lesson so important to a disposition like mine!—a continual victim to the enthusiasm of my feelings; incapable of approving, or disapproving, with moderation—the most poignant sufferings, even the study of mankind, have been insufficient to dissolve the powerful enchantment, to disentangle the close-twisted associations!—But I check this train of overwhelming reflection, that is every moment on the point of breaking the thread of my narration, and obtruding itself to my pen.
Mr Courtney did not long survive the guardian of my infancy:—his constitution had for some years been gradually impaired; and his death was hastened by a continuance of habitual dissipation, which he had not the resolution to relinquish, and to which his strength was no longer equal. It was an event I had long anticipated, and which I contemplated with a sensation of solemnity, rather than of grief. The ties of blood are weak, if not the mere chimeras of prejudice, unless sanctioned by reason, or cemented by habits of familiar and affectionate intercourse. Mr Courtney refusing the title of father, from a conviction that his conduct gave him no claim to this endearing appellation, had accustomed me to feel for him only the respect due to some talents and good qualities, which threw a veil over his faults. Courage and truth were the principles with which he endeavoured to inspire me;—precepts, which I gratefully acknowledge, and which forbid me to adopt the language of affection, when no responsive sympathies exist in the heart.
My eyes were yet moist with the tears that I had shed for the loss of my maternal friend, when I received a hasty summons to Berkley-square. A servant informed me, that his master was, at length, given over by his physicians, and wished to speak to Miss Courtney, before his strength and spirits were too much exhausted.
I neither felt, nor affected, surprize at this intelligence, but threw myself, without reply, into the carriage which had been dispatched for my conveyance.
On entering the house, a gloomy silence seemed to reign throughout the late festive apartments; but, as I had seldom been a partaker of the festivity, the contrast struck me less forcibly than it might otherwise have done. My name was announced, and I was conducted, by the housekeeper, to the chamber of her dying master, who, supported on pillows, breathed with difficulty, but appeared to be free from pain, and tolerably composed. I met the physician in the ante-chamber; who, on my requesting earnestly to know the situation of his patient, informed me—That an internal mortification had taken place, and that he could not survive many hours.
Approaching the bed, considerably shocked at the intelligence I had received, Mr Courtney, in a low and faint voice, desired me to draw a chair near him. I obeyed in silence.
'Emma,' said he, 'I am about to quit a world, in which I have experienced little sincere enjoyment; yet, I leave it reluctantly. Had I been more temperate in my pleasures, perhaps, they might have been less destructive, and more protracted. I begin to suspect, that I have made some great mistakes; but it is now too late for retraction, and I will not, in my last moments, contradict, by my example, the lesson of fortitude, with which it has been a part of my plan to inspire you. You have now, unprotected, the world to encounter; for, I will frankly confess, that my affection for you has not been strong enough to induce me to forego my own more immediate gratification: but I have never deceived you. Your mother, when she married, reserved for her private expences a thousand pounds, which, on her deathbed, she desired might be invested in the funds on your account. This request I religiously complied with, and there it has remained untouched; and, being purchased in your name, you may claim it whenever you please. I have appointed you no guardians; for, already in your nineteenth year and possessing an understanding superior to your sex and age, I chose to leave you unfettered, and at your own discretion. I spared from my pleasures what money was requisite to complete your education; for having no fortune to give you, and my health being precarious, I thought it just to afford you every advantage for the improvement of those talents which you evidently possess, and which must now enable you to make your way in the world; for the scanty pittance, that the interest of your fortune will produce, is, I doubt, insufficient for your support. Had I lived, it was my intention to have established you by marriage; but that is a scheme, to which, at present, I would not advise you to trust. Marriage, generally speaking, in the existing state of things, must of necessity be an affair offinance. My interest and introduction might have availed you something; but mere merit, wit, or beauty, stand in need of more powerful auxiliaries. My brother, Mr Morton3, called on me this morning:—he has agreed, for the present, to receive you into his family, where you must endeavour to make yourself useful and agreeable, till you can fix on a better and more independent plan. Finding me in so low a state, your uncle would have waited a few days in town, to have seen the result, and in case of the worst, to have taken you down with him, but pressing business urged his departure. I would advise you, immediately after my decease, to set out for Morton Park. Proper persons are appointed to settle my affairs:—when every thing is turned into money, there will, I trust, be sufficient to discharge my just debts; but do not flatter yourself with the expectation of a surplus. Your presence here, when I am no more, will be equally unnecessary and improper.'
This was said at intervals, and with difficulty; when, seeming quite exhausted, he waved his hand for me to leave the room, and sunk into a sort of dose, or rather stupor, which continued till within some minutes of his decease.
Mr Courtney had been, what is called, a man of pleasure:—he had passed thro' life without ever loving any one but himself—intent, merely, on gratifying the humour of the moment. A superior education, and an attentive observance, not of rational, but, of social man, in an extensive commerce with the world, had sharpened his sagacity; but he was inaccessible to those kindlings of the affections—those glowings of admiration—inspired by real, or fancied, excellence, which never fail to expand and advance the minds of such as are capable of sketching, with a daring hand, the dangerous picture:—or of those philosophic and comprehensive views, which teach us to seek a reflected happiness in benevolent exertions for the welfare of others. My mother, I suspected, had been the victim of her husband's unkindness and neglect: wonder not, then, that my heart revolted when I would have given him the tender appellation of father! If he coldly acknowledged any little merits which I possessed, he regarded them rather with jealousy than approbation; for he felt that they tacitly reproached him.
I will make no comment on the closing scene of his life. Among the various emotions which had rapidly succeeded each other in my mind, during his last address, surprize had no place; I had not then his character to learn.
3:Mr Courtney's brother had taken the name of Morton, to qualify himself for the inheritance of an estate, bequeathed to him by a distant relation.
The small pittance bequeathed to me was insufficient to preserve me from dependence.—Dependence!—I repeated to myself, and I felt my heart die within me. I revolved in my mind various plans for my future establishment.—I might, perhaps, be allowed to officiate, as an assistant, in the school where I had been placed in my childhood, with the mistress of which I still kept up an occasional correspondence; but this was a species of servitude, and my mind panted for freedom, for social intercourse, for scenes in motion, where the active curiosity of my temper might find a scope wherein to range and speculate. What could the interest of my little fortune afford? It would neither enable me to live alone, nor even to board in a family of any respectability. My beloved aunt was no more; her children were about to be dispersed, and to form various connections.
Cruel prejudices!—I exclaimed—hapless woman! Why was I not educated for commerce, for a profession, for labour? Why have I been rendered feeble and delicate by bodily constraint, and fastidious by artificial refinement? Why are we bound, by the habits of society, as with an adamantine chain? Why do we sufferourselvesto be confined within a magic circle, without daring, by a magnanimous effort, to dissolve the barbarous spell?
A child in the drama of the world, I knew not which way to turn, nor on what to determine. I wrote to Mr Morton, to enquire on what terms I was to be received by his family. If merely as a visitor for a few weeks, till I had time to digest my plans, I should meet, with pleasure, a gentleman whose character I had been taught to respect; but I should not consider myself as subject to controul. I ought, perhaps, to have been satisfied with Mr Morton's answer to my interrogatories.
He wished to embrace the daughter of his brother, his family would be happy to render Morton Park agreeable to her, as long as she should think proper to favour them by making it her residence. The young ladies expected both pleasure and improvement from the society of their accomplished kinswoman, &c.
I believe I was unreasonable, the style of this letter was civil, nay kind, and yet it appeared, to me, to want the vivifying principle—what shall I say?—dictated merely by the head, it reached not the heart.
The trials of my mind, I foreboded, were about to commence, I shrunk from the world I had been so willing to enter, for the rude storms of which I had been little fitted by the fostering tenderness of my early guardians. Those ardent feelings and lively expectations, with all the glowing landscapes which my mind had sketched of the varied pleasures of society, while in a measure secluded from its enjoyments, gradually melted into one deep, undistinguished shade. That sanguine ardour of temper, which had hitherto appeared the predominant feature of my character, now gave place to despondency. I wept, I suffered my tears to flow unrestrained: the solemnity of the late events had seized my spirits, and the approaching change filled me with solicitude. I wandered over the scenes of my past pleasures, and recalled to my remembrance, with a sad and tender luxury, a thousand little incidents, that derived all their importance from the impossibility of their renewal. I gazed on every object,for the last time—What is there in these words that awakens our fanaticisms? I could have done homage to these inanimate, and, till now, uninteresting objects; merely because I shouldsee them no more.
How fantastic and how capricious are these sentiments! Ought I, or ought I not, to blush while I acknowledge them? My young friends, also, from whom I was about to separate myself!—how various might be our destinies, and how unconscious were we of the future! Happy ignorance, that by bringing the evils of life in succession, gradually inures us to their endurance.
'Had I beheld the sum of ills, which oneBy one, I have endured—my heart had broke.'
The hour at length came, when, harrassed in body and in mind, I set out for Morton Park. I travelled alone, and reached the end of my journey at close of day. I entreated Mr Morton, who hastened to hand me from the carriage, and welcome my arrival, that I might be permitted to retire to my apartment, pleading fatigue, and wishing to wave the ceremony of an introduction to the family till the next morning. My request was obligingly granted, and a servant ordered to attend me to my chamber.
Many years had elapsed since I had seen this family, and my judgment was then so immature, that our meeting at the breakfast table had with each of us, I believe, the force of a first impression. You know myfanaticismon these occasions. I will attempt an imperfect sketch of the groupe, assembled in the saloon, to whom I was severally presented on my entrance, by the lord of the domain. Mr Morton, himself, to whom precedence is due, seemed to be about fifty years of age, was of the middle stature, his features regular, and his countenance placid: he spoke but little, but that little was always mild and often judicious. He appeared not to be void of benevolent affections, and had the character of a humane landlord, but his virtues were, in a great measure, sunk in an habitual indolence of temper; he would sometimes sacrifice his principles to his repose, though never to his interest. His lady—no, I will not describe her; her character will, it may be, unfold itself to you in future—Suffice it to say, that her person was gross, her voice loud and discordant, and her features rugged: she affected an air of openness and pleasantry; It may be prejudiced, perhaps she did notaffect it. Sarah Morton, the eldest of the daughters, was about my age, she was under the middle height, fair, plump, loquacious; there was a childish levity in her accent and manners, which impressed strangers with an unfavourable opinion of her understanding, but it was an acquired manner, for she was shrewd and sensible. Ann, the second daughter was a little lively brunette, with sharp features and sparkling black eyes; volatile, giddy, vain and thoughtless, but good humoured and pretty. The other children were much younger.
Two gentlemen joined us at our repast, visitors at Morton park. Mr Francis, the elder, was in his fortieth year, his figure slender and delicate, his eye piercing, and his manner impressive. It occurred to me, that I had somewhere seen him before, and, after a few minutes recollection, I recognized in him a gentleman who had occasionally visited at my father's, and whom I have already mentioned as the antagonist of the man of fashion, whose sentiments and volubility excited my youthful astonishment and indignation. Mr Montague the younger, the son of a medical gentleman residing in a neighbouring county, seemed about one and twenty, tall, elegantly formed, full of fire and vivacity, with imperious manners, an impetuous temper, and stubborn prejudices.
The introduction of a stranger generally throws some kind of restraint over a company; a break is made in their usual topics and associations, till the disposition and habits of the intruder have, in some degree, unfolded themselves. Mrs Morton took upon herself to entertain; she exhibited her talents on various subjects, with apparent self-approbation, till a few keen remarks from Mr Francis arrested the torrent of her eloquence. The young ladies scrutinized me with attention; even the lively Ann, while she minutely observed me, ceased to court play from Mr Montague, who attended to me with the air, and addressed me in the language of gallantry. I sometimes caught the penetrating eye of Mr Francis, and his glance seemed to search the soul.
After breakfast, Mr Morton having retired to his dressing-room, and the younger part of the company strolling into the pleasure grounds, whither I declined accompanying them, I took an opportunity, being ever desirous of active and useful employment, of offering my assistance to Mrs Morton, in the education of her younger children; proposing to instruct them in the rudiments either of music, drawing, French, or any other accomplishment, for which my own education had capacitated me. Mr Francis remained standing in a window, his back towards us, with a book in his hand, on which he seemed intent.
'If,' replied Mrs Morton, 'it is your wish, Miss Courtney, to procure the situation of governess in any gentleman's family, and it is certainly a very laudable desire in a young woman of yoursmall fortune, Mr Morton will, I have no doubt, have it in his power to recommend you: but in the education of my family, I desire no interference; it is an important task, and I have my peculiar notions on the subject: their expectations are not great, and yourelegantaccomplishments might unfit them for their future, probable, stations.'
The manner in which this speech was uttered spoke yet more forcibly than the words.—I felt my cheeks glow.
'I was not asking favours, Madam, I was only desirous of being useful.'
'It is a pity, then, that your discernment had not corrected your vanity.'
The housekeeper entering, to consult her mistress on some domestic occasion, Mrs Morton quitted the room. Mr Francis closed his book, turned round, and gazed earnestly in my face: before sufficiently mortified, his observation, which I felt at this moment oppressive, did not relieve me. I attempted to escape, but, seizing my hand, he detained me by a kind of gentle violence.
'And why this confusion, my dear Miss Courtney; do you blush for having acted with propriety and spirit?' I burst into tears—I could not help it—'How weak is this, how unworthy of the good sense you have just manifested.'
'I confess it, but I feel myself, at this moment, a poor, a friendless, an unprotected being.'
'What prejudices! poverty is neither criminal, nor disgraceful; you will not want friends, while you continue to deserve them; and as for protection,' (and he smiled) 'I had not expected from Emma Courtney's spirited letter to Mr Morton, and equally proper retort to his lady's impertinence, so plaintive, so feminine a complaint.—You have talents, cultivate them, and learn to rest on your own powers.'
'I thank you for your reproof, and solicit your future lessons.'
'Can you bear the truth?'
'Try me.'
'Have you not cherished a false pride?'
It is too true, thought I, and I sighed.
'How shall I cure this foible?'
'By self-examination, by resolution, and perseverance.'
'Be to me instead of a conscience.'
'What, then, is become of your own?'
'Prejudice, I doubt, has blinded and warped it.'
'I suspect so; but you have energy and candor, and are not, I hope, of a temper to despond.'
The return of the family terminated this singular conversation. The young ladies rallied me, on being foundtête-à-têtewith the philosopher; Mr Montague, I thought looked displeased. I stole out; while the party were dressing for dinner, and rambled into the gardens, which were extensive, and laid out with taste.
I judged my visit here would not be very long. I scarcely knew whether I was most inclined to like or to fear Mr Francis, but I determined, if possible, to cultivate his friendship. I interrogated myself again and again—From whence this restlessness, this languor, this disgust, with all I hear and see?—Why do I feel wayward, querulous, fastidious? Mr Morton's family had no hearts; they appeared to want asense, that preyed incessantly on mine; I could not love them, and my heart panted to expand its sensations.
Sarah and Ann became jealous of me, and of each other; the haughty, yet susceptible, Montague addressed each in turn, with a homage equally fervent for the moment, and equally transient. This young man was bold, ardent, romantic, and enterprizing, but blown about by every gust of passion, he appeared each succeeding moment a different character: with a glowing and rapid imagination, he had never given himself time to reason, to compare, to acquire principles: following the bent of a raised, yet capricious fancy, he was ever in pursuit of meteors, that led him into mischief, or phantoms, that dissolved at his approach.
Had my mind been more assured and at ease, I could have amused myself with the whimsical flights of this eccentric being—One hour, attracted by the sportive graces of Ann, he played with and caressed her, while the minutes flew rapidly on the light wing of amusement, and, till reminded by the grave countenance of Mr Morton, seemed to forget that any other person was present. The next minute, disgusted by her frivolity, all his attention was absorbed by the less fascinating, but more artful and ingenious, Sarah. Then, quitting them both, he would pursue my steps, break in upon my meditations, and haunt my retreats, from whence, when not disposed to be entertained by his caprice, I found it not difficult to drive him, by attacking some of his various prejudices:—accustomed to feel, and not to reason, his tastes and opinions were vehement and uncontroulable.
From this society, so uncongenial to my reflecting, reasoning, mind, I found some resource in the conversation of Mr Francis. The pride of Montague was evidently piqued by the decided preference which I gave to the company of his friend; but his homage, or his resentment, were alike indifferent to me: accustomed to speak and act from my convictions, I was but little solicitous respecting the opinion of others. My understanding was exercised by attending to the observations of Mr Francis, and by discussing the questions to which they led; yet it was exercised without being gratified: he opposed and bewildered me, convicted me of error, and harrassed me with doubt.
Mr Francis soon after prepared to return to town. I was affected at the idea of his departure; and felt, that in losing his society, I should be deprived of my only rational recreation, and should again be exposed to Mrs Morton's illiberal attacks, who appeared to have marked me out for her victim, though at present restrained by the presence of a man, who had found means to inspire, even her, with some degree of respect.
Mr Francis, on the evening preceding the day on which he purposed leaving Morton Park, passing under the open window of my chamber, in which I was sitting with a book to enjoy the refreshing breeze, invited me to come down, and accompany him in a ramble. I immediately complied with his request, and joined him in a few minutes, with a countenance clouded with regret at the idea of his quitting us.
'You are going,' said I, as I gave him my hand (which he passed under his arm), 'and I lose my friend and counsellor.'
'Your concern is obliging; but you are capable of standing alone, and your mind, by so doing, will acquire strength.'
'I feel as if this would not be the case: the world appears to me a thorny and pathless wilderness; I step with caution, and look around me with dread.—That I require protection and assistance is, I confess, a proof of weakness, but it is nevertheless true.'
'Mr Montague,' replied he, with some degree of archness in his tone and manner, 'is a gallant knight, a pattern of chivalry, and appears to be particularly calculated for the defender of distressed damsels!'
'I have no inclination to trust myself to the guidance of one, who seems himself entangled in an inextricable maze of error, and whose versatile character affords little basis for confidence.'
'Tell me what it is you fear;—are your apprehensions founded in reason?'
'Recollect my youth, my sex, and my precarious situation.'
'I thought you contemned the plea ofsex, as a sanction for weakness!'
'Though I disallow it as a natural, I admit it as an artificial, plea.'
'Explain yourself.'
'The character, you tell me, is modified by circumstances: the customs of society, then, have enslaved, enervated, and degraded woman.'
'I understand you: there is truth in your remark, though you have given it undue force.'
I hesitated—my heart was full—I felt as if there were many things which I wished to say; but, however paradoxical, the manners of Mr Francis repressed, while they invited, confidence. I respected his reason, but I doubted whether I could inspire him with sympathy, or make him fully comprehend my feelings. I conceived I could express myself with more freedom on paper; but I had not courage to request a correspondence, when he was silent on the subject. That it would be a source of improvement to me, I could not doubt, but prejudice with-held me from making the proposal. He looked at me, and perceived my mind struggling with a suggestion, to which it dared not give utterance: he suspected the truth, but was unwilling to disturb the operations of my understanding. We walked for some time in silence:—my companion struck into a path that led towards the house—listened to the village clock as it struck nine—and observed, the hour grew late. He had distinguished me, and I was flattered by that distinction; he had supported me against the arrogance of Mrs Morton, retorted the sly sarcasms of Sarah, and even helped to keep the impetuous Montague in awe, and obliged him to rein in his offensive spirit, every moment on the brink of outrage. My heart, formed for grateful attachment, taking, in one instant, a hasty retrospect of the past, and a rapid glance into futurity, experienced at that moment so desolating a pang, that I endeavoured in vain to repress its sensations, and burst into a flood of tears. Mr Francis suddenly stopped, appeared moved, and, with a benevolent aspect and soothing accents, enquired into the cause of an emotion so sudden and unexpected. I wept a few minutes in silence, and my spirits seemed, in some measure, relieved.
'I weep,' (said I), 'because I amfriendless; to be esteemed and cherished is necessary to my existence; I am an alien in the family where I at present reside, I cannot remain here much longer, and to whom, and whither, shall I go?'
He took my hand—'I will not, at present, say all that it might be proper to say, because I perceive your mind is in a feeble state;—My affairs call me to London;—yet, there is a method of conversing at a distance.'
I eagerly availed myself of this suggestion, which I had wished, without having the courage to propose.
'Will you, then, allow me, through the medium of pen and paper, to address, to consult you, as I may see occasion?'
'Will I? yes, most cheerfully! Propose your doubts and state your difficulties, and we shall see,' (smiling) 'whether they admit of a solution.'
Thanking him, I engaged to avail myself of this permission, and we proceeded slowly to the house, and joined the party in the supper room. I never once thought of my red and swoln eyes, till Sarah, glancing a look half curious, half sarcastic, towards me, exclaimed from Shakespear, in an affected tone,
'Parting is such sweet sorrow!'
'Parting is such sweet sorrow!'
Mr Francis looked at her sternly, she blushed and was silent; Mr Montague was captious; Ann mortified, that she could not by her little tricks gain his attention. Mrs Morton sat wrapped in mock dignity; while Mr Morton, and his philosophic friend, canvassed the principles upon which an horizontal mill was about to be constructed on the estate of the former. After a short and scanty meal, I retired to my apartment, determined to rise early the next morning, and make breakfast for my friend before his departure.
Mr Francis had ordered his horse to be ready at five o'clock. I left my chamber at four, to have the pleasure of preparing for him the last friendly repast, and of sayingfarewel. He was serene and chearful as usual, I somewhat more pensive; we parted with great cordiality, he gave me his address in town, and engaged me to write to him shortly. I accompanied him through the Park to the porter's lodge, where the servant and horses waited his coming. My eyes glistened as I bade him adieu, and reiterated my wishes for his safety and prosperity, while his features softened into a more than usual benignity, as he returned my salutation.
I wandered thoughtfully back towards the house, but the rich purple that began to illumine the east, the harbinger of the rising sun, the freshness of the morning air, the soft dews which already glittered on every fragrant plant and flower, the solemn stillness, so grateful to the reflecting mind, that pervaded the scene, induced me to prolong my walk. Every object appeared in unison with my feelings, my heart swelled with devotional affections, it aspired to the Author of nature. After having bewildered ourselves amid systems and theories, religion, in such situations, returns to the susceptible mind as asentimentrather than as a principle. A passing cloud let fall a gentle, drizzling shower; sheltered beneath the leafy umbrage of a spreading oak, I rather heard than felt it; yet, the coolness it diffused seemed to quench those ardent emotions, which are but too congenial with my disposition, while the tumult of the passions subsided into a delicious tranquillity.
How mutable are human beings!—A very few hours converted this sublime complacency into perturbation and tumult. Having extended my walk beyond its accustomed limits, on my return, I retired, somewhat fatigued to my apartment, and devoted the morning to my studies. At the dinner hour I joined the family, each individual of which seemed wrapped up in reserve, scarcely deigning to practise the common ceremonies of the occasion. I was not sufficiently interested in the cause of these appearances to make any enquiries, and willingly resigned myself, in the intervals of the entertainment, to meditation.
When the table was cleared, and the servants had withdrawn, perceiving the party not sociably inclined, I was about to retire—when Mrs Morton observed, with features full of a meaning which I did not comprehend, that—
'Their guest, Mr Francis, had, no doubt, left Morton Park gratefully impressed by thekindnessof Miss Courtney.'
Montague reddened—bit his lips—got up—and sat down again. The young ladies wore an air not perfectly good-humoured, and a little triumphant. Mr Morton looked very solemn.
'I hope so, Madam,' I replied, somewhat carelessly. 'I felt myself indebted to Mr Francis for his civilities, and was solicitous to make him all the return in my power—I wish that power had been enlarged.'
She held up her hands and eyes with an affected, and ridiculous, gesture.
'Mr Francis,' said Montague, abruptly, 'is very happy in having inspired you with sentimentsso partial.'
'I am not partial—I am merely just. Mr Francis appeared to me a rational man, and my understanding was exercised and gratified by hisconversation.'
I was about to proceed, but my uncle (who seemed to have been tutored for the occasion) interrupted me with much gravity.
'You are but little acquainted, Emma, with the customs of society; there is great indecorum in a young lady's making these distinctions.'
'What distinctions, my dear Sir!—in prefering a reasonable man to fools and coxcombs.'
'Forgive me, my dear—you have a quick wit, but you want experience. I am informed, that you breakfasted with Mr Francis this morning, and attended him through the Park:—this, with your late walk yesterday evening, and evident emotion on your return, let me tell you, child, wears an indecorous appearance:—the world is justly attentive to the conduct of young women, and too apt to be censorious.'
I looked round me with unaffected surprize—'Good God!—did I suppose, in this family, it was necessary to be upon my guard against malicious constructions?'
'Pray,'—interrupted Sarah, pertly—'would you not have expressed some surprize, had I shewed Mr Montague similar attentions?'
I looked at her, I believe, a little too contemptuously.—'Whatever sentiments might have been excited in my mind by the attentions of Miss Morton to Mr Montague,surprize, assuredly, would not have been among them.'
She coloured, and Montague's passions began to rise. I stopped him at the beginning of an impertinent harangue, by observing—
'That I did not think myself accountable to him for my conduct;—before I should be solicitous respecting his opinions, he must give me better reasons, than he had hitherto done, to respect his judgment.'
Ann wept, and prattled something, to which nobody thought it worth while to attend.
'Well, Sir,' continued I, turning to Mr Morton, 'be pleased to give me, in detail, what you have to alledge, that I may be enabled to justify myself.'
'Will you allow me to ask you a question?'
'Most certainly.'
'Has Mr Francis engaged you to correspond with him?'
I was silent a few moments.
'You hesitate!'
'Only, Sir,howto answer your question.—I certainly intend myself the pleasure of addressing Mr Francis on paper; but I cannot strictly sayhe engagedme so to do, as it was a proposal he was led to make, by conjecturing my wishes on the subject.'
Again, Mrs Morton, with uplifted hands and eyes—'What effrontery!'
I seemed not to hear her.—'Have you any thing more to say, my dear uncle?'
'You are a strange girl. It would not, perhaps, be proper before this company to enquire'—and he stopped.
'Any thing is proper, Sir, to enquire of me, and in any company—I have no reserves, no secrets.'
'Well, then, I think it necessary to inform you, that, though a sensible, well educated, liberal-minded, man, Mr Francis has neither estate nor fortune, nor does he practise any lucrative profession.'
'I am sorry for it, on his own account; and for those whom his generosity might benefit. But, what is it to me?'
'You affect to misunderstand me.'
'Iaffectnothing.'
'I will speak more plainly:—Has he made you any proposals?'
The purport of this solemn, but ludicrous, preparation, at once flashed upon my mind, the first time the thought had ever occurred. I laughed—I could not help it.
'I considered Mr Francis as aphilosopher, and not as alover. Does this satisfy you, Sir?'
My uncle's features, in spite of himself, relaxed into a half-smile.
'Very platonic—sweet simplicity!'—drauled out Mrs Morton, in ironical accents.
'I will not be insulted, Mr Morton!' quitting my seat, and rising in temper.—'I consider myself, merely, as your visitant, and not as responsible to any one for my actions. Conscious of purity of intention, and superior to all disguise or evasion, I was not aware of these feminine, indelicate, unfriendly suggestions. If this behaviour be a specimen of what I am to expect in the world—the world may do its will—but I will never be its slave: while I have strength of mind to form principles, and courage to act upon them, I am determined to preserve my freedom, and trust to the general candour and good sense of mankind to appreciate me justly. As the brother of my late father, and as entitled to respect from your own kind intentions, I am willing to enter into any explanations, whichyou,Sir, may think necessary:—neither my motives, nor my actions, have ever yet shrunk from investigation. Will you permit me to attend you in your library? It is not my intention to intrude longer on your hospitality, and I could wish to avail myself of your experience and counsels respecting my future destination.'
Mr Morton, at my request, withdrew with me into the library, where I quickly removed from his mind those injurious suspicions with which Mrs Morton had laboured to inspire him. He would not hear of my removal from the Park—apologized for what had passed—assured me of his friendship and protection—and entreated me to consider his house as my home. There was an honest warmth and sincerity in his manner, that sensibly affected me; I could have wept; and I engaged, at his repeatedrequest, not to think, at present, of withdrawing myself from his protection. Thus we separated.
How were the virtues of this really good man tarnished by an unsuitable connection! In the giddy hours of youth, we thoughtlessly rush into engagements, that fetter our minds, and affect our future characters, without reflecting on the important consequences of our conduct. This is a subject on which I have had occasion to reflect deeply; yet, alas! my own boasted reason has been, but too often, the dupe of my imagination.
Nothing, here, occupied my heart—a heart to which it was necessary to love and admire. I had suffered myself to be irritated—the tumult of my spirits did not easily subside—I was mortified at the reflection—I had believed myself armed with patience and fortitude, but my philosophy was swept before the impetuous emotions of my passions like chaff before the whirlwind. I took up my pen to calm my spirits, and addressed myself to the man who had been, unconsciously, the occasion of these vexations.—My swelling heart needed the relief of communication.