Fifteen years 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 to Heaven 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 which SHE 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 to _keep out_ of 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 her _ladyship’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 the fancy_, that I insensibly became passionately
fond of such parties. I even began to _try my town fortune_ at
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 to _her 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 great part 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 my _own
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’s _petits
soupers_, where I began to think the company really enchanting. So
easy, good humoured, agreeable, and engaging were the ladies; so soft,
so _insinuating_, so winning were the gentlemen; that I thought I was
in a much more delightful society than I had 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 defraying _the extraordinaries_
of 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 my _debts of
honour_; and luckily, as I thought, that evening there was 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 a _sentimental affection_
for another man, without interfering with her duty to her husband; and
spoke much in favour of _Platonic 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
opinion of 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 gentleman_ I 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 be _the custom_ of 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 lover
more 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 shame and 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
of _married 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 with me, 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 my husband’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 of the 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 maintenance of 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 still your 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 disgrace could 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 the
greatest 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 to his 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 conversation they 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,
she yielded 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 octagon tower, 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 dinner in 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 evening they proceeded to Reading[5], and
the following day arriving in London, completed their excursion.