CHAPTER III.
Fifteenyears ago I was married to a very amiable and worthy man, and highly esteemed and respected. Heaven can witness I long loved him dearly, and still regard him as much as ever! During the first ten years of our union, although we spent the winter in town, and mingled with people of our own rank, our pleasures were principally domestic; our parties were select and elegant, and not indiscriminate and numerous. We occasionally attended at operas, routs, and other fashionable amusements; but did not place our chief enjoyment, in such scenes of glare, noise, and insipidity; for insipid I then thought them. Would toHeaven my sentiments had always continued the same! About six years ago, in an evil day, I became acquainted with the Countess of Cheatwell. Her ladyship’s manners are very insinuating towards those whom she wishes to win. Our acquaintance commenced at Buxton, where, she declared, the retirement of the place was much more agreeable to her than the gaieties of Brighton, or even Bath itself; and that though she was obliged, on account of some friends and connections, to be frequently in great and numerous parties, for her own part, her chief delight was selections of friends, sociable and rational conversation. She had heard, she said, of our wise mode of enjoying society, and was eager to be able, by detaching herself from many of her present acquaintances, to imitate so laudable an example: in short, she won my friendship and confidence.The following winter we often visited. She confessed to me, it was impossible at once to leave off her former acquaintances; and appealed to me if it would not be better to effect her intended change gradually, and so ultimately please herself without disgusting those, to gratify whom she had sometimes engaged in amusements, of whichSHE HERSELF TOTALLY DISAPPROVED. Her plan I thought perfectly reasonable; but warned her against contracting a fondness for such pursuits. ‘Believe me,’ said the countess, ‘there is no danger of that: the more I see of gaming and its consequences, the more do I hold it in detestation, and the more firmly am I resolved tokeep outof its destructive vortex. Indeed, I know of no more effectual means of producing an abhorrence of that vice,than by frequenting scenes in which it is practised. On a weak mind,to be sure, they may have a contrary tendency; but, on a vigorous understanding, with a firm, self-possessing heart, their effects are most certainly beneficial. You yourself, my dear, whose mind surpasses in strength that of most ladies, by occasionally witnessing such fashionable amusements, (as they are called, very improperly, I admit,) would be, if possible, more riveted in your aversion.’ In the course of our intimacy, I was prevailed on to be present at some of her ladyship’s routs; and, though she and I in private concurred in expressing our reprobation of gaming, I did not find my aversion by any means increase, and was indeed so delighted with herladyship’s own particular friends, whose manners were extremely engaging; and with the exquisite music,and other parts of her entertainments, in which nothing was neglected to gratify the taste, and enchant thefancy, that I insensibly became passionately fond of such parties. I even began totry my town fortuneat amusements, which appeared to me so much to engage the earned attention of my new acquaintances. Lady Cheatwell, in very friendly terms, advised me to refrain; but, when she found me determined to persevere, said, she would commit my tuition toher own particular friends, who would take care to guard me against imposition, which, as she observed, is too frequently employed on such occasions. Indeed, they taught me so well, that I was very successful; and had in a short time, at my command, a much greater sum than ever I had in my possession from my husband. Although our fortune was considerable, yet he was economical; a disposition I acquiesced in as prudent, as we had several children, all of whom were daughters; and a greatpart of the estate, with the title, would go to the heir-male. Having now plenty of money, I indulged in various expences, which I should not have before thought of. I proposed to my husband to imitate some others of our own rank, by giving splendid routs, balls, and masquerades: and, trusting to myown stores, I assured him that the expence would not be heavy. My husband, who was very much under my influence, agreed, though I believe not altogether consistently with his own judgment and wish. At this rate we went on during the winter. I was often at Lady Cheatwell’spetits soupers, where I began to think the company really enchanting. So easy, good humoured, agreeable, and engaging were the ladies; so soft, soinsinuating, so winning were the gentlemen; that I thought I was in a much more delightful society than Ihad ever witnessed. I was not, however, without some crosses; the expences of our entertainments, when the bills came in, turned out to be infinitely greater than we had anticipated; my own good fortune began to change: towards the end of the season, I found that I was, on the whole, a loser to the amount of fifteen hundred pounds; so that I was by no means in a condition to assist, as I once had proposed, in defrayingthe extraordinariesof our winter campaign. At this time, a note from a lady of fashion reminded me of a debt incurred at hazard for twelve hundred pounds, which she requested I should have the goodness to pay immediately, as she was herself much distressed for one of the same kind. I considered my own winnings in reversion as a certain resource for mydebts of honour; and luckily, as I thought, that evening therewas to be an assembly at Lady Cheatwell’s, where the play would be deep. Thither I accordingly went at the appointed hour; and soon going to pharo, was for some time successful with a young nobleman, an intimate friend of Lady Cheatwell, of all our parties, and whom I greatly admired for the elegance of his manners, and gracefulness of his figure. Encouraged by my success, I proposed very high stakes; but, after many vicissitudes, found myself three thousand pounds in debt; and went home in deep despair. The next morning, I had a visit from my antagonist; who, from the distress in which he saw me, conceiving the real state of the case, begged me not to be uneasy on his account, and, taking out his pocket-book, presented me with my own note to him cancelled, and also with a receipt from the fair applicant of the preceding day.He had, it seems, heard of the circumstance, and settled the account in half an hour after. I confess I was charmed with this youth’s behaviour, and I am afraid not the less from the uncommon fineness of his face and person, and evident attachment to myself. My opinions had become less austere, from my intimacy with Lady Cheatwell and her coterie. They persuaded me, that a married lady might have asentimental affectionfor another man, without interfering with her duty to her husband; and spoke much in favour ofPlatonic love. Before we went out of town, I became fonder and fonder of this generous man; and not the less so, as I found my husband much out of humour on account of the expences we had incurred. I felt a reluctance at the thoughts of going to the country, the greater as I found my husband had conceived a very bad opinionof my sentimental friend, so that it would be impossible for him to visit me at our country seat, as we had projected. Two evenings before we were to leave town, I was invited to sup with Mrs. Cogdie and her charming daughter Biddy, Miss’s sentimental friend,a married gentlemanI had often seen, Lady Cheatwell, my admirer, O’Blackleg, and one or two more of the peculiar intimates of our set. A more exquisite and enchanting party, I thought, I had never been in! The conversation was all interest, all sentiment, all love. My Lady Cheatwell delivered her opinion on marriage and its duties, in a way I once should have disapproved; but was then quite fascinated. By some means or other, small and select as our party was, it was thought expedient to divide it into smaller sets. Pairs filed off together (as I since have known it to bethe customof that mansion);I was left alone with my charming youth; and—(she sobbed out)—we ceased to be Platonists! My gallant contrived to pass a good part of the summer in disguise, near our country-seat; and I became daily fonder and fonder of him. We frequently indulged in gaming, and I was much oftener a loser than a winner. One day, after he had spent about a fortnight at Bath, he returned with a melancholy countenance. I was extremely alarmed, and endeavoured to discover the cause. He long refused to inform me; but at length acknowledged he had been stripped of all his money, and contracted a very large debt, which he had no means of paying, as he entirely depended on his father, who would be very much incensed were he to hear of his folly, as he necessarily must, from his inability to discharge the debt himself. I myself owed my lovermore than four thousand pounds; for which he had taken, as he said, merely as a matter of form, my notes at different times. I prayed him to endeavour to raise money on them; and that, by the time they were payable, I should be in town, and have an opportunity of disposing of my jewels, and getting Dovey’s paste; as usual with my Lady Cheatwell’s friends, and other ladies of fashion, when they have great debts to pay, for either losses at play, the emergencies of their gallants, or any other extravagance. After much reluctance, he consented; and we abandoned ourselves to our passion as before; but managed with such secrecy, that I was totally unsuspected. In a few weeks, my lover told me he was obliged to be absent for a month on a family party, at his father’s, in a county two hundred miles from our mansion. The month appeared an age to me; but,when it was finished, he did not return: a week, and another passed away; still I saw or heard nothing of him. It was now the middle of November, when a servant announced a gentleman from Lady Cheatwell, who wanted to see me. I desired him to be shewn into my dressing-room; and I found the gentleman was Mr. Patrick O’Blackleg. He had, he said, made use of Lady Cheatwell’s name, to obtain admittance on a business which he explained in a few words. He had procured money to my lover on my notes, and was engaged for their punctual payment; and, from what my lover had said, trusted to the disposal of my jewels for cash, for that purpose. He gave me also to understand, to my great surprise, mortification, and affliction, that my gallant had eloped with another married lady, and was gone to the Continent. To add to my shameand affliction, I could perceive that O’Blackleg thoroughly knew the footing on which the nobleman and I had been. On coming to town for the winter, O’Blackleg paid me very close attention, and found means to raise money upon my jewels; and, in short, so ingratiated himself in my favour, that he succeeded as my lover. I was now a confidential member of the gaming society at Lady Cheatwell’s and her friends; and could tell you of many instances both ofmarried and unmarried women, who have been seduced into profligacy, from the morals of the gaming circles, and the difficulties from gaming losses; but I do not propose to mitigate my own unworthiness by pleading the example of others.
Vain is the idea of long persistence in vice without discovery. The change of female conduct from rectitude to profligacy generally affects the outward manners;and I apprehend mine must have undergone an alteration. Besides, the company that I now kept were not favourable to fame. My reputation suffered; and the reports of my infidelity at length reached the ears of my husband. In the grief of so ill requited love, he wrote me a letter, containing no reproaches, but more rending to the heart than the most opprobrious charges. He simply desired me to review his conduct in every circumstance and relation towards me and our children, and to ask myself whether he had ever given me reason to inflict so grievous an injury on my husband and my daughters. He was, however, convinced, that my deviation had been caused by the depraving company into which I had lately fallen, and that I was still retrievable: though he could not promise immediately to live in the same house withme, yet he wished, for my own sake and our offspring, and my noble-minded brother, that my reputation might still be preserved; he would retire for some years to the Continent; I should occupy the country-house, and totally break off acquaintance with those fashionable connexions, which had effected such an evil to him and to myself. There he hoped my own deportment would be such as would justify and invite his speedy return. A reproof so mild, but yet so poignant; forgiveness so generous and so humiliating, aggravated my shame, compunction, and remorse. For several hours these most painful sentiments were so predominant, as to overpower every other, and to prevent me from forming any resolution concerning the acceptance of the proffered pardon: But, re-reading the letter, I perceived, what had at the first perusal escaped my observation,that my husband presumed my guilt not to be made public. This supposition I well knew was unfortunately without grounds; my profligate paramour had blazoned my disgrace. To have carried conscious, though concealed guilt into a house where innocent virtue had always reigned, would have been extremely grating; but to carry public infamy into the house of so honourable a master—here she sobbed, and for some time was unable to proceed; but at length recovering, and assuming a firmer tone, no, I was not so much lost to ingenuous feeling as that. Revolving on the miserable condition into which I was reduced by my own conduct, I came to a determination to secrete myself for ever from my brother, children, and husband, all of whom I still most fervently love. My few remaining jewels I sent sealed to myhusband’s banker; money I have none, but raised a hundred pounds by the disposal of some less valuable effects. I intended to retire to the west of England, in quest of an old servant of my mother’s, whom I knew to be honest and faithful, and to conceal myself with her until death should relieve my sufferings, which I hoped, from my declining health, might speedily be the case. To conceal my rout I took a circuitous course, and sometimes walked from a post-town two or three miles, and sat down to await the arrival of some periodical or chance vehicle. The person whom I sought is the wife of a small farmer, near Cherril. Having walked this morning from Chipenham, I was overtaken by a return-chaise, which carried me to the Downs; leaving the carriage I struck to the right in quest of the hamlet, which I knew to be within two miles ofthe White Horse. As I pursued my solitary course a fellow started up from an hollow, who with a very short preface began to make proposals, that lost as I was I received with the indignation they deserved. As he became urgent I swooned away. When I returned to life I found the ruffian waiting my recovery, as he avowed his determination to perpetrate his purpose; looking about he suddenly ran off. Perceiving a chaise at some distance I accounted for his departure. I now found out that my pockets were rifled, and that I had not a single shilling left in the world. My strength quite exhausted, I was totally unequal to the short distance that I had to surmount; and now that my little store was plundered, I was reluctant to seek the intended asylum: to burden the scanty subsistence of hard earning industry, with the maintenanceof inefficient idleness. I felt myself an outcast from society. My desolate situation, a wounded conscience, readily brought me home to myself. I wished to terminate my sufferings by death. Such were the feelings of a guilty mind in extreme misery, when your generous intervention enabled me to exercise cooler reflection.
Our travellers were much affected by the lady’s narrative; Hamilton used his eloquence to console her, and to persuade her that the circumstances which she mentioned, and the contrition which she displayed, evinced such a mind as when restored to its place in society, would first compensate, and finally obliterate the unhappy effects of artful and pernicious companions, in suspending rectitude of principle, and perverting justness and vigour of understanding. “I am convinced,” he said, “that stillyour husband, whose character your account and his letter so clearly elucidate, will be deeply grieved at your disappearance, and would with joyful delight adhere to his proposal. Will you, madam, suffer me to apply to any of your friends who might be entrusted with the important charge of mediating between you and your brother, and husband?” “Ah, no, sir, I wish to be for ever hidden from their eyes, I could not bear to see their faces turned on me with unmerited kindness, they are both men of the highest merit; my husband engaged in the exercise of private and domestic virtues, has it is true not signalized himself in public efforts; my brother, hardly five-and-twenty, is already the admiration of the senate. Alas! poor Edward, with the highest accomplishments of person and mind, he was unhappy before his sister’s disgracecould reach his ears. Hamden lamented the disappointment of virtuous love; here his susceptible heart must feel rage and indignation for the vice and degeneracy of his sister.” At the name of Hamden, Maria and her husband were aroused; and the latter, with some impatience waiting till the conclusion of the sentence, eagerly asked, are you, madam, the sister of Sir Edward Hamden, my most intimate and admired friend? “Good Heavens!” replied the lady, “are you that Mr. Hamilton that saved my brother’s life; and is this the lady that was Miss Mortimer? But I need not ask. The description and circumstances render the question quite superfluous.” Hamilton hastily answering it was as she supposed, and proceeded to inform her, that he had now a clue to guide him in promoting her comfort and peace of mind.“Hamden,” said he, “has a liberality of soul equal to the extent of his understanding, and in estimating every act, or series of acts, makes allowance for the circumstance and situations.” “But what liberality or candour,” replied she, “can palliate such infidelity as mine, against such a husband.” Here she again fell into a paroxysm of passion, and our hero resolved to forbear the renewal of the subject until she was more composed. Meanwhile they agreed to pass the evening in their present quarters, and to view this ancient and venerable town[4], that gave its title to one of thegreatest heroes that ever graced the annals of England. The lady not chusing to accompany them, was prevailed on to try the effects of repose, in order to tranquillize her agitated spirits. Having viewed the town and environs, they returned to their place of sojourning for the night. Our hero communicated tohis wife and sister a project he had formed of applying to his friend Sir Edward Hamden, and explaining the circumstances of his sister Mrs. Raymond’s case and sentiments; convinced that he would be able to effect an impression in her favour. Meanwhile he intended to offer her a secret asylum in or near London, and requested the ladies to join in endeavouring to persuade her to accompany them to London, without particularizing the scheme in her favour which he had in agitation. Mrs. Raymond long resisted their application, and declared her resolution never to receive from her husband or brother, kindness, every title to which she said she had entirely forfeited. Without professing to confute her reasoning, or oppose her determination, they endeavoured to reconcile her in some degree to herself. In the course of their conversationthey found that she had a strong and lively sense of religion, although its practical operation had in her late conduct been so fatally suspended. To this principle they addressed themselves, and powerfully inculcated the meritoriousness and efficacy of the penitence which she so clearly evinced, that it would certainly conciliate every candid and christian reviewer. They appealed to her self-estimation, and tried to impress on her the merit that attached to the energetic effort of restored virtue, and without diminishing that shame which follows unhackneyed vice, or softening the calls of conscience, they persuaded her that future performance of her religious and moral duties would heal the wounded spirit, and regain the esteem and approbation of the worthy. Grateful for their goodness, rather than convinced by their reasoning, sheyielded to their instances more than their arguments, and agreed to accompany them to London; and a post-coach was bespoken for the morning. After an early breakfast they set off through the forest, which not exceeding twelve miles in circumference, and containing a most delightful seat, Hamilton persuaded them to view. Marlborough forest belongs to the Earl of Ailesbury, and is almost the only privileged ground of that denomination possessed by a subject. It is in circumference about twelve miles, plentifully stocked with deer of a large size, and rendered very pleasant and delightful, by the many walks and vistas cut and levelled through the several coppices and woods, with which it abounds. Eight of these vistas meet in a point near the middle of the forest, where a late lord prepared and cleared the ground for erecting an octagontower, whose sides were to be correspondent to the vistas; through one of which we have a view of the seat, at about two miles distance, called Tottenham, from a park of that name, in which it is situated, contiguous to the forest. It is a stately edifice, erected on the same spot of ground where stood an ancient palace, destroyed by fire, of the Marquis of Hertford, afterwards Duke of Somerset, so justly celebrated for his steady adherence, and powerful assistance to the royal cause, during the whole course of the civil wars; from whom the Earl of Ailesbury was descended. The present edifice was begun, carried on, and finished after the model, and under the direction of our modern Vitruvius, the late Earl of Burlington, who, to the strength and convenience of the English architecture, has added the elegance of Italian taste. The house has four towers,and four fronts, each of them diversely beautified and adorned; to which are now added four wings, wherein are rooms of state, a noble and capacious room for a library, containing a judicious and large collection of several thousand books, in all languages, but especially the modern. The beauty of the buildings is much augmented by the large canals, the spacious and well planted walks which surround it; one of which, leading to the London road, extends two miles in length. About the same distance from hence, on the opposite side, are to be seen the remains of a large house, called Wolf-hall, the seat of Sir John Seymour, father of the unfortunate protector, of which no more is standing than suffices for a farm house. Here King Henry VIII. as tradition goes, celebrated his nuptials with Lady Jane Seymour, and kept his wedding dinnerin a very large barn, hung with tapestry, on the occasion; for confirmation of which they shew you in the walls some tenter-hooks, with small pieces of tapestry fastened to them: and between this place and Tottenham there is a walk, with old trees on each side, still known by the name of King Henry’s walk. Wolf-hall was anciently the seat of St. Maurs, or Seymours, who, from the time of Henry II. were hereditary bailiffs and wardens of the forest of Savernac, in memory of which a large hunting horn, ornamented with silver, is still preserved by the present noble owner, the Earl of Ailesbury, together with a beautiful pedigree of the family, from William the Conqueror. They proceeded through the charming confines of Wiltshire and Berkshire, and arrived at the castle at Speenhamland, where they dined, and in the eveningthey proceeded to Reading[5], and the following day arriving in London, completed their excursion.