resume an occupation which _has been_ so delightful, but which loses
its charm in this disgusting round of idleness and dissipation? In any
other mood than that which I now am in, I could dilate with melancholy
pleasure on every step of my journey. I could tell you that I felt as
if my heart would break when I lost sight of the last mountain which
is visible in the distance from Glenalta. While I could gaze upon its
lofty peak, I felt as if some connecting link still bound me to a place
where all my best affections were deposited; and when all trace was
lost of every object that continued the illusion, I could not speak.
The pang was unutterable, and a thousand vague fancies crowded over my
mind, perplexing it "with fear of change," and whispering unwelcome
thoughts that I should not revisit my Irish home. There can be no
_reason_ for this, but I find now by experience what I have _read of_
before, that low spirits enfeeble the understanding, and make one
start, though at nothing.
"'Tis only the willows that wave in the wind."
Yet the imagination conjures up phantoms of ideal existence, and I
worked myself into such a dread of death, separation, misfortune, and
I know not what, that the turning of a straw would have sent me back
again, envious of the very rocks that bent their faces towards the
happy valley which I left behind.
Mrs. Fitzroy was a charming companion, for she felt as I did; and we
were neither of us inclined to talk on any subject foreign to Glenalta.
I cannot give you a detail of our progress. We reached Dublin, where
the bustle of a new scene obliged us to turn our thoughts from those
dear friends, whose society we missed so grievously on the preceding
day. We rested only one night, and, after a calm passage of seven
hours, found ourselves at Holyhead.
Have you ever felt that as long as you are _near_ an object of
attachment, the mind is restless in the direct ratio of proximity, and,
as you recede from it, you become more satisfied, as it would seem,
from a feeling that every mile increases the difficulty of contact,
till impossibility at length stares you in the face, and produces
resignation _per force_. Is not this the reason why people who differ
most widely from each other in religion and politics are more tranquil,
and forbearing than such as are _all but_ agreed? The _little_
difference, like the _mile_ of separation, seems to have no _right_ to
interpose a barrier, and we are impatient accordingly that what appears
so easily surmountable does not give way to our wishes. Mrs. Fitzroy
and I, in the course of our philosophizing, extended the same principle
to that disgust which is occasioned by an attempt to carry imitation
beyond a certain limit. The painted statue is unpleasing, because it
assumes too much of similarity without reaching identification; and we
are nauseated by the chattering of a monkey, who is _almost_ human,
though we listen with pleasure to the articulations of a parrot.
Having left my fair charge in Worcestershire, at the house of one of
her friends, I hastened to town, and found every thing here in the
confusion attendant upon hurry. My poor mother, dreading an _explosion_
on my part, laid her plans so as to circumvent me completely, and,
on the plea of my uncle's sudden illness, which gives us reason to
expect him by the very next ship from Bengal, instead of at the
distance of some months, Adelaide's marriage has been _got up_ without
any of the usual forms, which my mother trusts to her own ingenuity
and generalship for having executed as well _after_, as _before_
the ceremony. Behold then, on my arrival, the whole house turned
topsy-turvy--servants in new liveries flying to and fro, white and
silver favours glittering on their breasts, and the wedding party just
returned from St. George's Chapel. I could hardly find a place to dress
in, nor a creature to do any thing for me. Having, however, caught
a flying lacquey, I desired that Louisa only should be informed of
my arrival, and she ran for five minutes to bid me welcome. Whether
agitated by my return, or forced into disapprobation of the graceless
contract which had just been solemnized, I cannot tell, but she flew
into my arms with a burst of emotion which I had never seen before,
and which deeply affected me. Louisa is formed for better things than
she lives amongst; but she has had no conductor. Oh may I henceforward
be truly a brother! May I be enabled to cultivate her tenderness, and
obtain an influence over her understanding! We agreed that I should be
allowed to repose in peace, and that the breakfast, departure of the
_nouveaux mariés_, _cake-cutting_, and all the idle mummery of a bridal
day, should go on without me.
My sister returned to the banquet, and my arrival was concealed from
every body, till a splendid travelling carriage drove off with Lord
and Lady Crayton, and all the _figurantes_, who are brought together
on these occasions to feed the vanity of display, had dispersed. My
mother and Louisa joined the giddy throng, and went to drive about the
park, and exhibit the hymeneal paraphernalia. I looked from a window on
the scene below, and sighed, as I thought how differently a marriage
would be conducted at Glenalta.
With eyes opened to a new order of things, I could not help musing
heavily on what I saw. A deaf man suddenly introduced for the first
time into the midst of a ball room would think the people all mad,
whom he beheld jumping about, without being able to hear the inspiring
sounds which gave activity to the feet. Perhaps, had I been engaged in
this nuptial pageant, it would have seemed, as it did to those who had
parts to act in it; but to me it appeared, from an upper story of the
house, the most senseless piece of parade that I had ever witnessed,
rendered melancholy by anticipations of events which I perceived in the
vista of Adelaide's futurity. Various analogies started to my mind. I
recollected the gay deception which precedes the sacrifice, when a poor
nun is about to relinquish the natural enjoyments of life, and lay
down her hopes and affections on the altar of superstition. I thought
of her, when dressed in all the trappings of this world's glory, she
is led, more frequently deceived than deceiving, to the temple, there
to resign her liberty and happiness, perhaps her life, and become the
sorrowing victim of an ill-fated vow.
In the gloomy solitude of a large house, emptied of its inhabitants, I
had scope for much disagreeable meditation, and wandered from room to
room, reflecting with sad foreboding, on what is likely to be the lot
of poor Adelaide, and ruminating on the heavy expenses incurred by my
mother to seal a bond of misery. The furniture of all our principal
apartments is new and sumptuous, of the last Parisian fashion, and
chosen with the best taste. The housekeeper told me that a splendid new
carriage had been purchased, and that every thing connected with this
marriage had been done in the "best-possible manner."
My mother and Louisa returned late, and much fatigued. With the former
I had but little conversation. She met me with an air of great
displeasure, and I fear that the only way by which I can reinstate
myself in her favour will prove a destructive one. My property is
already burthened to a large amount, and to extricate my mother I must
plunge myself a great deal deeper in debt. This must be done, however,
as I will use my best endeavours to set her mind at ease.
Poor Louisa and I sat up till morning, and, though her mind is a
complete chaos, she has too much natural strength of character not
to perceive the folly, as well as meanness, of the late arrangement,
in which each side has been trying to outwit the other. I find that
the Craytons set out directly after the ceremony for Dover, and are
on their route to the continent, where their sojournment is to be
regulated by circumstances. "Pecuniary difficulties," though not
defined, are confessed to, _generally_, by my new brother-in-law, who
gives his title in the hope of being paid for it in solid gold; and I
suspect that we shall find, ere long, how much his creditors have been
cajoled by an assurance that between General Douglas and me, all their
demands will be satisfied. If the speculation of my uncle's assistance
should fail, as much as the hope of aid from me must necessarily do, I
see no prospect of aught but beggary for my unfortunate sister.
Were we in the country, I should not despair of operating a great
change in Louisa's opinions; but I have scarcely an opportunity of
saying a sentence to her in private. My mother does not like to see us
alone, and the interruptions from company are incessant. I proposed
going to Selby, and should have found no difficulty in prevailing,
for in fact we are ridiculously out of season _here_, but my uncle
is certainly coming, and so speedily, that he may land while I am
writing. All the people of _note_ in town at present are, Louisa tells
me, brought together by this marriage, which is flattering to those
who take pride in it; but, not being of that number myself, I long to
be set free, and when I _am_, no time shall be lost in joining you as
quickly as possible. If I do not _soon_ set out for Paris, you shall
hear again from, my dear Falkland,
Your affectionate,
A. HOWARD.
LETTER XXIII.
DR. PANCRAS TO MR. OTWAY.
Sir, _Limner's Hotel_.
I am commissioned to notify the arrival in England of your friend
General Douglas, and to inform you that in the present state of his
health, he feels himself incompetent to any manner of exertion. He has
been so ill on the voyage, as to excite my constant apprehension lest I
might not enjoy the happiness of delivering up my patient alive to his
friends. He has been somewhat better since we arrived in the Channel,
and I have no doubt that a little rest will be of much benefit; but
as he means to remain in town for the arrival of another ship, which
sailed when we did, and on board which is a part of his baggage, he
will have the best medical advice here, and proceed at leisure to
Marsden, the place which you were so good as to purchase for him.
The principal object of this letter is to entreat, that if not very
inconvenient, you will come over, and allow your friend the pleasure
of shaking you by the hand once more. He bids me tell you, that he has
much to say, and that the power of communicating with you upon several
subjects near his heart, would contribute more than any medicine to
his recovery. May it be permitted a stranger to enforce this request,
by adding his testimony to the General's own conviction? It is not the
physician who "can minister unto a mind diseased;" it is the _friend_
alone who can sooth and sustain the sinking spirits, and I look upon
my patient as requiring _your_ advice as much as he does mine, though
I have had long knowledge of his complaints, and have accompanied
him from India. I will not longer trespass on your attention than to
request an immediate answer, saying whether or not you can comply with
the entreaty of which I am the medium.
I am, Sir,
your obedient, humble servant,
A. PANCRAS.
LETTER XXIV.
FROM MISS DOUGLAS TO MISS SANDFORD.
My dearest Julia,
It is some time since you have heard from me, and in the interval much
has happened to disturb our even course of life. The departure of our
friends, particularly that of Arthur, produced a degree of desolation
at Glenalta, which can only be understood by such as have felt the
pangs of separation from those they love. When _you_ left us, a similar
chasm was made in our happiness, but you could not comprehend our
feelings, though you were very sorry to say farewell. You were _going_,
we were _staying_, and supposing the same measure of affection, there
must be a wide difference between the situation of a mind presented
continually with new objects that force themselves on the observation,
and one that is bound in all the melancholy associations of that
scene which had witnessed its happiness. The fresh air, the constant
movement, the necessity of speaking and interesting oneself in the
details of a journey, must save the heart much bitterness, which is
reserved for the saddened spirits left behind. I never shall forget the
tomb-like silence that pervaded our cheerful abode when the last sound
of the carriage wheels, that bore away dear Mrs. Fitzroy and Arthur,
were no longer to be heard. We _then_ only seemed to feel the full
extent of our deprivation.
Charlotte and I, unable to occupy ourselves, wandered like ghosts. Oh
the emptiness of a bedchamber from which your friend has just departed!
The pillow still bearing impress of the head which had rested on it
so recently; the spikes of lavender scattered on the floor, which,
perhaps, you had gathered yourself in a happier hour, to give fragrance
to the now vacant wardrobe; the back of a letter inscribed with the
name that now stops your utterance, and the thousand other trifles,
light as air, that take affection by surprise, and make one wretched
through every fibre of the frame! Fanny's grief had quicker vent; she
wept, till like a babe that cries itself to sleep, nature _would_ have
rest; and I envied her the power of listening with rapture, to the
history of some young cygnets, which old Lawrence had got from Bantry
as a present for her. Frederick was sincerely sorrowful, but he was
obliged to attend to Mr. Oliphant, and his mind was relieved by the
necessity of being employed.
The beloved mother who suffers more than she enjoys society, always
returns to the stillness of retirement, glad to repose after exertion,
and rewarded by the happy feeling of having practised self-denial in
order to make others happy.
Charlotte and I then were the _miserable_ of our little circle, and the
kind Phil. accordingly gave his principal attention to us. He insisted
on our being _busy_. He drove us to our gardens, to our poor people,
to the schools, all of which had been less carefully watched, while
our friends were with us. How slow is the progress of improvement.
How rapid the growth of whatever is baleful in its nature! We found
much to reclaim, and were ashamed, as well as astonished to find how
things may go astray, and run to ruin, while one is only pursuing what
appears an innocent gratification. Well, it shall not happen again. We
have now restored matters to their former good order, and if we enjoy
less _pleasure_ than we did in the midst of more varied attraction; I
feel more contentment and less self-reproach, since we have resumed our
accustomed course. I now understand that of which it was so difficult
to convince me, namely, that _company_, however delightful, is too
stimulating for a continuance, and that it is very wholesome to be left
alone now and then with one's own heart.
Letters (that blessed invention) have informed us constantly of all
that is interesting in the lives and adventures of our absent friends;
but the last accounts from Arthur have distressed mamma, and produced
commotion in our tranquil valley.
My poor uncle is in short arrived, and so ill that his physician has
written to beg Mr. Otway's immediate presence in London. It is thought
right that Frederick should accompany him as a proper mark of respect,
and also to add weight to mamma's request, that should our mild climate
be considered advisable for the invalid, he will repair as soon as
possible to Glenalta.
To lose Frederick and our friend of Lisfarne at one and the same moment
is a stroke which needs some philosophy to endure; and I am afraid that
we are not bearing it as we ought to do. Then I cannot help feeling
sadly afraid of uncle Douglas, who is, Arthur says, very _repellent_
in his manners. Poor man! he suffers much, and it is unreasonable to
expect that he should be agreeable in his present circumstances; but
I am so accustomed to the sweet accents of gentleness and affection,
that nothing terrifies me so much as the idea of severity. I feel still
more for mamma than for myself, and as the general has apparently taken
a dislike already, Arthur tells us, to my aunt Howard and Louisa, why
should we expect better at the hands of one, governed, perhaps, by
prejudice against all his family, with whom he has kept up very little
intercourse?
Mr. Otway and Frederick set out next week, and but for the delight I
have in the hope that they will soon return, and the latter be happy in
his cousin's society, while he is enjoying his first visit to London, I
should be inconsolable.
We have had intelligence of Lord and Lady Crayton's arrival in Rome,
where young Stanhope has seen them. Lord C. is fond of play, and poor
Adelaide Howard, I am afraid, is destined to be any thing but blessed
in her union with him. What can induce people to make the sacrifice of
liberty and peace for the sake of a paltry title? Perhaps I am careless
about such things only because I am placed in a situation where they
are of little value; but a coronet seems of small estimation in my
eyes, and I wish that my cousin had a husband less extravagant and more
domestic, though plain Mr. instead of Viscount, preceded his name. He
and Adelaide are to pass the winter in Paris.
You bid me to describe our late visitors. To say that we found them a
very agreeable addition to our party, is saying nothing that will help
you to distinguish one from the other. Yet beyond some such general
description, what can tell of strangers? If you delineate the features
of a landscape, you can speak not only of them as they seem, but as
they _are_; but what a length of time is required to guard against
misrepresentation in painting the human character, of which we can
for a long while only know the _signs_, but may remain in profound
ignorance of the motives which govern them!
You may remember how much I used to admire Miss Talbot. I saw her
frequently last summer, when she looked so pretty, and was so kind to
me, that I became quite enthusiastic in her praise; and should have
been very foolish about her, if mamma had not damped my energy, by
saying one day, "dearest Emily, do not take so much for granted: wait
to know Miss Talbot better before you give her _all_ your heart." I
felt that there must be good reason for this reproof, or I should not
have received it. I paused, and ceasing to inflate my mind with my own
exaggerations, mistaking them for realities, I _did_ wait to know
Miss Talbot better, and one _look_, though unaccompanied by a word,
darted at her father, who asked for a particular song which she did
not choose to sing, levelled the whole edifice of my admiration to the
dust. The same song which she had refused to a parent's request, she
_volunteered_ when Mr. Mortimer Fitzallan came into the room, saying,
in her sweetest accents, and with her winning smile, "I will now sing
_your_ favourite." To return after a digression, which contains my
apology for not attempting to give you exact portraits of our guests, I
will proceed to say, that as far as I am acquainted with them, I like
Mr. Annesley better than Mr. Russell, and _both_ pleased me, though
not in the same manner. The former is more gentle and reflecting than
his friend, the latter full of music and of merriment; but one is not
always merry, and if _not_, Mr. Russell's animal spirits fatigue. Then,
as to music, I think that he likes it less for its own sake, than as a
subject on which to be eloquent. Mr. Annesley _says_ less, but _does_
more than the other, in the way of those little polite attentions
which mark a wish to please; and he looks so sincere, that one feels
always ready to _believe_ whatever he utters, while the wandering eye
of his companion would indicate that his thoughts are every where, or
no where, though his tongue be employed in giving to them the liveliest
expression. Mr. Annesley's animation arises out of the occasion, while
Mr. Russell is ever intent on _seeking_ opportunity to exhibit _his_.
In conversing with the one, you find your spirits refreshed by the
natural alternation of stimulus and repose. In talking to the other,
you are made to feel that a certain measure of excitement is to be _run
out_; after which, you must lie by to recruit, ere you commence anew.
They are both polished, and have received all the advantages of modern
education, and thus ends my story of them.
Mamma will write to dear Mrs. Sandford, when she can tell her of _the
general's_ movements. Have you ever remarked how many people tack an
emphatic _the_ to any admiral, general, colonel, dean, or archdeacon,
accidentally appended to their family, just as if there were no other
of each class in the world beside their own? Adieu, dearest Julia: our
united loves to all at Checkley.
Believe me, ever your
Affectionate friend,
EMILY DOUGLAS.
LETTER XXV.
FREDERICK DOUGLAS TO HIS MOTHER.
Beloved Mother,