It will somewhat and perhaps not disagreeably diversify the narrative,
if we here insert a section from the manuscript, composed evidently with
some pains, but wholly detached from every thing else. This is a brief
account of females, distinguished by their love of, or proficiency in,
literature, to whom, in a protracted series of years, our Sexagenarian
was introduced.
(_Loquitur amicus noster._)
To such ladies the appellation of “Blue Stocking” has been frequently and
contemptuously, though impertinently applied. Among these personages,
many were or are ornaments to society, patterns to the rising generation
as christians, parents, and friends, endowed with the most amiable
virtues and excellent accomplishments. The first, indeed, of whom
mention will be made, may not, perhaps, deserve a place in the above
distinguished and meritorious class, but she was a most extraordinary
character, and excited, from the eccentricities of her conduct and
manners, much curiosity and attention from her contemporaries. This
person was—
MRS. H⸺.
She was the sister of John Wilkes, of famous memory, had a large portion
of his intellectual endowments, and was very little his inferior in
vivacity, humour, and wit. She was married first to an opulent merchant,
who was succeeded in his business by his head clerk, Mr. Hayley, whose
fortunes were made by his obtaining the hand of the widow. He was
afterwards Alderman Hayley, and was a near relation of Hayley, the poet.
He was a plain, sensible, good sort of man, wholly absorbed in commercial
pursuits, and soon found it expedient, for the sake of a quiet life, to
suffer his _cara sposa_ to do as she liked. She was exceedingly well
informed, had read a great deal, possessed a fine taste, and, with
respect to literary merit, considerable judgment. She accordingly sought,
with much avidity, the society of those who were distinguished in the
world by their talents and their writings. When the expression of _those_
is used, it must be understood to apply to men only, for on all occasions
she was at no pains to conceal her contemptuous opinion of her own sex;
and it was no uncommon thing to see her at table, surrounded with ten or
twelve eminent men, without a single female.
She had great conversation talents, and unfortunately, like her brother,
she seldom permitted any ideas of religion, or even of delicacy, to
impose a restraint upon her observations.
Her disregard of propriety was also and conspicuously manifested on
other occasions. She invariably attended all the more remarkable trials
at the Old Bailey, where she regularly had a certain place reserved for
her. When the discussion or trial was of such a nature, that decorum,
and indeed the Judges themselves, desired women to withdraw, she never
stirred from her place, but persisted in remaining to hear the whole,
with the most unmoved and unblushing earnestness of attention.
She every summer made an excursion to such parts of the kingdom as she
had not before visited, and was always accompanied by a single male
friend, who for a great number of years was an American gentleman,
connected with the house of Hayley by the ties of mercantile interests.
Upon one occasion, she visited the Highlands with this gentleman, and
though accustomed to a very luxurious style of living, she submitted
to the greatest privations and hardships in the indulgence of her
curiosity. This indeed was unbounded; it extended to the manufactories,
manners, high and low, and worse than low, in whatever place she visited.
Her professed object was to see every body, and every thing, which
deserved or excited attention.
The season in which she visited the Highlands proved moreover to be very
wet and tempestuous, and the character of her mind cannot perhaps be more
accurately delineated, than by an extract of a letter which she wrote to
her brother, John Wilkes, from Scotland. It began—
“Dear Brother,
“The rain has been and still is so incessant, that I have
serious intentions of constructing another ark, into which,
however, I shall be exceedingly scrupulous whom I admit. As I
know your particular taste, I shall have a cabin for your use,
fitted up and adorned with _scripture and other prints_. But I
will on no consideration whatever suffer any unclean animals
to enter; for example, nothing shall prevail upon me to admit
either Scotch men or Scotch women,” &c. &c.
The whole of the epistle was of the same strain and character, full of
wit, humour, and ingenious (however unjust) raillery.
She had a house after her husband’s death, and perhaps before, at
Bromley; the measured distance of which from her town residence in Great
Alifte-street, Goodman’s-fields, was precisely ten miles. She had four
beautiful black horses, and on entering her carriage, she never failed
to take her watch in her hand, and her coachman was sure to have a sorry
bout of it, if he exceeded the space of an hour either going or coming.
She had also a strong predilection for the drama, had a box at each of
the theatres, and generally went from one house to another. She was most
particularly fond of Shakspeare, and never failed to be present when any
of his plays were represented. She allowed her coachman but half an hour
to drive from Goodman’s-fields to either theatre. Her remarks on the
performances and performers were ingenious, lively, pertinent, and just,
and very much contributed to the information and amusement of her company.
She was particularly nice in her carriage, which was always built
in the highest and most expensive style of fashion, and kept with
particular neatness. She had one day a rich citizen with her in one of
these excursions to or from Bromley, who, from want of observation or
attention, did not perceive that the glass near which he sate was drawn
up, and he was so thoughtless as to spit upon it. She indulged in much
laughter, and remarked, that her coachman could not possibly have had a
greater compliment paid to his care of the glasses.
She had a daughter, who did not appear to be exempted, by her
relationship, from the general, indeed the universal dislike, or rather
contempt, which she avowed for all her sex.
They were on the very worst terms possible; and so reluctant was she, on
her daughter’s marriage, to perform the stipulations required by old H.’s
will, that the most harsh and rigorous proceedings were found unavoidably
necessary, and she was arrested on a Saturday night on coming from the
play, when she had thousands at her command, and detained, with her male
friend, who always accompanied her, in a spunging-house, till the Monday
morning.
In the end she served this same gentleman a most slippery trick. He
was a native of Nantucket, and as Mr. H.’s commercial connections were
principally in America, he was one of their most intimate and valuable
correspondents. On coming to England, he took up his residence in H.’s
house, and on his death, undertook the conduct of the great and extensive
concern for the widow. He was her most intimate counsellor, confidant,
and friend, embarked his fortunes with her’s, attended her every where,
and on every occasion, and was in all respects the master of her house,
and director of her family. At the conclusion of the American war, it
was found expedient that some confidential person should go over to
America, to see after the property still remaining in that country, and
which was not much less in value than a hundred thousand pounds. Mr.
R⸺ offered himself for the purpose. The lady’s attachment to him was
so strong, that she determined not to part with him, and resolved to
accompany him. Before they embarked, it was determined, on consultation,
that they should be married, and the Archbishop’s license was accordingly
obtained. From some cause or other, the solemnization was deferred, and
they mutually covenanted that it should take place on their arrival in
America. They accordingly set sail lovingly together. When they got
to America, they were much noticed, and feasted, and were hospitably
received, even by General Washington himself, and the most considerable
persons of the country. Still the marriage was not solemnized. Almost
the first letters which came out from England, brought the unwelcome
information that the presence of Mrs. H. or her agent and representative,
was indispensably necessary, to secure the property which was left
behind, no less considerable than that after which they went in search.
The gentleman of whom we are speaking, voluntarily undertook this mission
also; and leaving his friend and mistress, with the promise, and indeed
determination, to return immediately, and perform his contract, he
appointed a young mercantile man to transact his business in his absence,
and departed for England.
But mark the waywardness and inconstancy of some females: he had hardly
set foot on British land, when a packet arrived from a correspondent
in America, with the information, that the lady had found solitude in
that distant part of the globe so irksome, and indeed so intolerable,
that in one short week after his departure, she had united herself in
indissoluble bonds with the young man whom he had left as his mercantile
representative. There were no writings, settlements, or contracts, but
one simple deed, stating that the longest liver should take all the
property.
Before the narrative of Mrs. H. is resumed, the sequel of the fortunes of
this disappointed gentleman, as far as they are known, shall be added.
His grief was probably neither very acute, nor very permanent; indeed
he was already beginning to feel his situation to be a sort of unmanly
thaldrom: and there can be very little doubt, that if he had been either
pressing or importunate, he might _mutatis mutandis_ have been the happy
bridegroom in America, rather than the forsaken lover in England. But
he was a man with a great spirit of enterprize, had seen much of the
world, and was anxious to see more. He had also some very lofty schemes
of mercantile aggrandisement, particularly with respect to the South Sea
Whale Fishery. He was an exceedingly ingenious mechanic, and had invented
a machine for the more certain destruction of whales, which had the
approbation of some of our most accomplished mechanics. With this view,
not meeting in this country, or from our government, the encouragement he
wanted, and the assistance which he asked, he removed to France.
The French Revolution had commenced, and he received from the Ruling
Powers the most munificent promises, and so much immediate and
effectual assistance, that by their aid and countenance he formed
one establishment, upon a very large scale, at Dunkirk, and another
at l’Orient. Here, for some years, he prosecuted his plans with such
success, that he had the fairest prospect of acquiring the greatest
opulence. Unfortunately, one of his partners at l’Orient, laboured
under the suspicion of being an aristocrat, in the atrocious times of
Robespierre. Suspicion was but another term with this sanguinary crew,
for guilt, and the guillotine was (to use their abominable jargon) in
constant requisition. This most worthy and excellent man, with little,
perhaps with no form of trial, was put to death, and his friend and
patron, the American, escaped with life only. All the property was
seized, plundered, or confiscated, and the whole establishment fell to
the ground. Whether he yet survives, or if he does, in what situation he
remains, was unknown when this was written. M. R. had great talents, many
amiable qualities, and, in those respects, deserved a far better fate.
Now to return to Mrs. Hayley. The hours of rapture, even with younger
subjects, (votaries at the Hymeneal shrine) do not always extend beyond
the honeymoon. When a female, approaching to seventy, leads to the altar
a bridegroom who has not seen thirty, these hours of Elysium seldom
continue quite so long. In a very short interval, a separation was
mutually thought expedient. The lady, as before observed, had confided
everything to the generosity of her husband, and, with such an allowance
as he thought proper to make her, she took a very early opportunity of
re-crossing the Atlantic; and after a short residence in London, fixed
herself at Bath, where she passed
“An old age of cards.”
Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame.