Lord Munster devoted himself entirely to ambition: what has been said
of Cinna might be applied to him, _he had a head to contrive, a tongue
to persuade, and a hand to execute any mischief_. Weak people are only
wicked by halves; and whenever we hear of high and enormous crimes, we
may conclude that they proceeded from a power of soul, and a reach of
thought, that are altogether unusual.
He stuck at nothing to accomplish his political plans; and his success
rendered him still more enterprising: But being at last refused a
favor from his Sovereign, he retired disgusted with the court, and
in vain sought that happiness in a retreat, which his crimes made it
impossible he should ever find. He was so chagrined that everything
became intolerable to him; and he continually vented his spleen on
those of his friends, whose circumstances rendered them subservient to
his caprices. He possessed good health, a large estate, and had fine
children, that equalled his most sanguine expectations. In the opinion
of the world, therefore, he was a _very happy man_, but in his own,
_quite the contrary_. No man can judge of the happiness or infelicity of
his neighbour. We only know the external causes of good and evil, which
causes are not always proportionable to their effects: those which seem
to us small, often occasion a strong sensation; and those which appear
to us great, often produce only a faint sensation. The great advantages
Lord Munster possessed, as they excited in him only indifference,
in reality were inconsiderable in themselves. But the small evil,
his having been refused a ribbon by his Sovereign, exciting in him
insupportable uneasiness, was in reality a great evil. Lady Munster
had been dead many years: Lord Finlay and Lady Frances were the only
surviving children. Engrossed as the earl had been in public affairs, he
still paid particular attention to their education. Though a man of the
world, he was at the utmost pains in selecting those of distinguished
worth, to whom only he committed the care of his children. Lord Finlay
had promising parts; but force of mind makes a man capable of great
vices or great virtues, but determines him to neither.
Education, discipline, and accidents of life, constitute him
either a profound philosopher, or a great knave. The probity and
disinterestedness of Mr Burt's principles recommended him to Lord
Munster, for a tutor to his son.--He had been brought up to the
ministry, with an inclination to it, and entered into it with a fervent
desire of being as useful as he could. His education being all his
fortune, he subscribed, and took every step the church required, before
he was sufficiently acquainted with the doctrines subscribed to;--their
foundation in scripture, and the controversies which he afterwards found
had been raised, and carried on about them in the christian world:
and, after a diligent inquiry, was dissatisfied with some doctrines
established in our articles, liturgy, &c. and declined accepting a
considerable living in Lord Munster's gift, on which _alone_ he depended
for his future subsistence, and that of an amiable woman, whom he had
espoused upon these expectations.
I heartily wish that all who are disposed for the ministry of the
church, were as careful to satisfy themselves about the lawfulness of
_conformity_, and that the church of England laid fewer obstructions
in the way of those who are both disposed and qualified for advancing
the interests of religion and virtue; but dare not engage publicly
in her service, for fear of violating the peace of their minds, and
wounding their consciences. In such a situation what must a clergyman
do? must he preach and maintain doctrines he disapproves of? this would
be acting both against his persuasion, and his solemn promise at his
ordination. Shall he preach or write against them? this he must not do
neither, lest he should be judged guilty of impugning his subscription,
and consequently incur the censures of the church. Shall he then be
quite silent, and neither preach nor write about them at all? but how
will this be consistent, with his other solemn promise, made likewise
at his ordination, _to be ready with all faithful diligence, to banish
and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines_--all doctrines
which he _is persuaded_, are contrary to God's word? He must therefore
necessarily offend, either against the church, or against truth, and
his own conscience. A sad alternative! when a man can neither speak,
what he thinks to be truth, with _safety_, nor be silent without
_offence_. These considerations induced Mr Burt to refuse a proffered
establishment--by which conduct, he proved his belief in a _future
state_, more firmly than a great many of them appear to do, by their
immoderate desires of the good things _in this_: but his faith was
founded, not on the fallacious arguments of too many of his brethren;
but on that adorable conjunction of unbounded power and goodness, which
must certainly someway recompense so many thousand innocent wretches,
created to be so miserable here. He possessed that virtue in an eminent
degree, which the christians call humility, and which the ancients were
ignorant of.--But he had real merit, and could easily be modest, which
is almost impossible to those, who have only the affectation of it.
With this respectable man was Lord Finlay placed, at five years old,
when a considerable settlement was made on him, in compensation for
relinquishing other pursuits, with a promise of its beings continued for
life. Lord Munster from time to time examined his son, and was highly
satisfied with the progress he made; and not a little surprised, to find
him no way deficient in those accomplishments, which, though of less
consequence in themselves, a late noble author has illustrated as being
absolutely necessary, in compleating the character of a fine gentleman.
For these Lord Finlay was indebted to Captain Lewis, father-in-law to Mr
Burt. This old gentleman was of an antient family, and had retired from
the army, disgusted at his situation, having been many years in a very
subaltern station.
The condition of many brave and experienced officers is to be lamented,
who, after having passed through many various dangers in the service
of their country, are subject to the command of boys and striplings.
Whilst stations, which should be the reward of martial virtues, can be
purchased, it is in vain to hope, that our officers can be animated like
those of a neighbouring nation.
Honour alone can support the soldier in a day of battle; without this
invigorating principle, humanity will tremble at the sight of slaughter,
and every danger will be avoided, which necessity does not impose.
Captain Lewis retained that dignity of sentiment, which no misfortunes
could surmount. Our hearts and understandings, are not subject to
the vicissitudes of fortune. We may have a noble soul though our
circumstances be circumscribed, and a superiority of mind without being
of the highest rank. He had been much among the _great world_, in the
early part of his life, having been _aide-de-camp_ to Lord S----. Upon
his daughter's marriage with Mr Burt, he resided entirely with him; and
though she died of her first child, he continued with him, and became
as fond of lord Finlay as his grand-daughter, who, after her mother's
decease, became the object of his tenderest affection.
Thus were Lord Finlay and Miss Burt brought up together; and from the
time of her birth never separated until she was nine years old. At that
period she was sent to a convent at Paris, and returned, after six years
absence, highly accomplished; uniting in herself everything that could
charm a heart that was disengaged.
The consequences to Lord Finlay were inevitable, though never suspected.
A student of about eighteen, full of the amours of Ovid, and the soft
odes in Horace, has a heart very susceptible of love. These sensations
were too agreeable to be repulsed; he delivered himself entirely over
to his passion, which absorbed every other faculty of his soul. The
most perfect affection soon subsisted between these young people: but
the dignity of Miss Burt's manners inspired her lover with such respect
as rendered him silent on the subject of his passion, as he could not
enforce it without his father's sanction.
But there is an intelligence between tender souls, and the most animated
expression may be conveyed without the aid of words; and this dumb
language is so eloquent, that it is generally understood where the
heart is in unison. Friendship, indeed, was only spoke of; but their
every look, their every action, bespoke the most ardent love. 'What
transports,' (said he, one day to her) 'can friendship bestow! what
refined feelings, what delightful sensations, actuate the human soul in
such happy moments as these!'
We contemplate each other in silence; but the soul is never more
eloquent than under the influence of such a silence. She expresses, in a
moment, a train of ideas and sensations, which would be but confounded
by utterance.
Miss Burt had a merit the more engaging, from its avoiding notice and
parade: a refined genius, enriched with great knowledge and happy
expression, united with the most candid sincerity and goodness of heart;
these qualities entitled her to the esteem and friendship of every noble
mind: and the thick veil, under which her too great modesty concealed
her pre-eminence, exalted her in the penetrating eyes of her lover. She
scarce ever laid _this veil_ aside, except to him, whose approbation
rendered her indifferent with respect to the commendations of every one
else. He became every day more attached to her: and was so ignorant of
the world as to expect his father's approbation of his passion, and that
he would be propitious to it.
Thus situated were the lovers, when Lord Munster disgusted with the
court retired to the country. He immediately sent for Mr Burt and Lord
Finlay: although the distance was only a few miles, it was very grievous
for the latter to leave a place where he had access every minute of the
day to behold the object of his wishes.
Upon this occasion he was determined to disclose to her the situation of
his heart. He threw himself at her feet, in that pathetic disorder of
spirits which constitutes the true eloquence of love, and endeavoured to
speak, but hesitated at every word. In the mean time she saw and pitied
his confusion.
'I can read,' said she, 'my lord,' with an air of frankness, 'the
sentiments of your heart: I am not insensible of your passion; but why
hath fortune placed us at so great a distance from each other? how
delightful it would have been to me, if--But,' said she, (stopping short
in her discourse) 'let us not flatter ourselves with chimeras.--Let us
suppress the emotions of our hearts; it may be dangerous to indulge
them.'
'How? dangerous!' replied Lord Finlay, 'why suppress them? do not those
emotions constitute our happiness? It is the duty of love to repair
the injustice of fortune. How enraptured should I be to make happy the
object I love. Prejudice might object to it perhaps: but that shall
never enslave my understanding, especially as it must be founded only in
pride.'
With these sentiments they parted. It may be easily conceived how
impatient Lord Finlay was to see the idol of his heart, but he could
not with propriety propose quitting his father, for the first days
after his arrival in the country. He at last fell upon the expedient of
suggesting, whether, as he was under such obligations to Captain Lewis,
it would not be proper to call, and invite him to Munster house. This
Lord Munster agreeing to, he and his son called one morning; when Miss
Burt entertaining them with a little music, the light-winged god took
one of the sharpest arrows from the fair-one's quiver, applied it to
his bow, and swift as the forked lightning of Jove, fixed it in the old
man's heart. Lord Munster became desperately in love, and determined to
make her his wife. It is not at all surprising that a young woman makes
an impression on an old man. While we have life we have our passions;
age _represses_, but does not _extinguish_ them. As in maturer years,
the fire lurks under the ashes of prudence; so, if that be wanting, love
burns up and blazes fiercely; and is generally inextinguishable, if it
takes hold of the dry and worm-eaten wood of old-age. Persons of languid
passions (it has been observed) have few partialities; they neither
love, nor hate, nor look, nor move, with the energy of a man of sense.
People of real genius, and strong passions, have great partialities. The
blamelessness of the former should be weighed with their insignificancy;
and the faults of the latter balanced with their superiority.
Lord Munster made proposals to Mr Burt that very day, never doubting but
that Hymen would soon rekindle his _torch_.--But the same principles
determined him respecting his daughter, which had influenced him in
his own affairs. He thanked Lord Munster for the honor he intended
him, which he should acquaint her of--but that in an affair in which
her happiness for life was so immediately concerned, he must forgive
his interfering further. When he acquainted her with it; instead of
enforcing the acceptance of the honor proposed to her, he was at great
pains to precaution her, against many disagreeable consequences of such
an unequal alliance, both in age and condition, lest she should be
dazzled by wealth or titles, to sacrifice her inclinations!
Miss Burt, with unfeigned concern, was greatly chagrined to hear of Lord
Munster's proposals: she, therefore, with great warmth, declared herself
totally unfit, for such an exalted station. 'I can neither,' said she,
'adopt the virtues, or the vices of the great: the former are too
conspicuous, the other too obscure. A round of peaceable employments,
proper to satisfy the mind, and to soothe the heart, is the kind of
happiness for which I find myself inclined.'
'With such principles and inclinations, I could not be happy in the
great world, where the general way of life is solely calculated, to
flatter the senses, and where a superior genius is contemned, or at
least only permitted to exhibit itself in lively sallies, or smart
repartees.'
Mr Burt informed the earl of his daughter's sentiments. But his
lordship's self-love prevailed so far as to render it impossible to
conceive that _he could be refused_. He, therefore, made preparations
for his nuptials, and sent for his daughter home to be present on that
occasion. Lord Munster had taken the same pains on Lady Frances's
education, as her brother's. Mrs Norden, a distant relation, had the
entire charge of her. She resided in London until Lady Frances was
fourteen years old: at that time she accompanied her to Rome, where she
had the best masters, and where Santerello improved her taste in music.
After remaining three years at Rome, they went to Paris, from which
they were just returned at the period above mentioned. Lord Munster was
greatly charmed, both with the personal, and acquired perfections of his
daughter: and professed himself much indebted to Mrs Norden, for the
very great attention she had paid to her.
The day after Lady Frances's arrival, she went to Mr Burt's to pay her
respects to her intended mother-in-law.
No servant happening to be in the way to announce her, she walked
forwards into a room, the door of which she saw open, with an intention
to ring the bell, when she found Miss Burt in her father's library,
weeping bitterly: never before had she seen such an air of languid
softness, mixed with so much beauty. What an affecting sight! She was
going to retire, to save her from that confusion which a sensible heart
is apt to feel at having its afflictions perceived by a stranger; but
the lovely mourner, observing her, endeavoured to suppress her emotions:
but her grief was too violent to be checked; and her tears burst forth
the more, for having been an instant subdued. She could only say, 'That
she could be no stranger to _who_ did her the honour of waiting on
her, from the likeness Lady Frances had to her brother.' The thoughts
of Lord Finlay then renewed her affliction; and asking pardon for her
rudeness, she again shed a torrent of tears. Lady Frances answered,
'That apologies were only due on her part, for breaking in upon her
retirement, and witnessing emotions she might have wished to conceal.'
After a few general things, she told her the pleasure it gave her of
having so near a prospect of being entitled to take an interest in all
her concerns; when she would be happy in her friendship. In this Lady
Frances was perfectly sincere; for though she had been alarmed at the
intended marriage taking place, and although she was of a very shy
disposition, yet, at first sight, feeling the greatest partiality for
Miss Burt, she echoed her sighs, and her eyes bore testimony of the
feelings of her heart. With all the confidence of an ancient friendship,
she conjured her to acquaint her with the cause of her sorrows; and
took upon her to console, soothe, and comfort her. Miss Burt had only
time to express the sense she entertained of her goodness, and to add,
her miseries were _too great_ to be _alleviated_; when her grand-father
entering the room, the conversation turned upon general topics.
Upon Lady Frances's return home, her father gayly enquired, What she
thought of his intended bride? She answered, Every thing that was
charming; and that she had prepared for her an eternal habitation in the
warmest part of her heart: 'There is every thing in her,' added she,
'that can engage the affections, or command the respect, of people of
taste and judgment.'
Lord Finlay mean while was under the greatest oppression of spirits.
A thousand conflicting passions tortured his (until then) undisturbed
bosom. Love and filial piety alternatively took possession of his
soul. Each in their turn was rejected.--When sentiments are nearly of
equal force, the soul, as if unsettled, and wavering between contrary
emotions, knows not which to resolve on; its decrees destroy each other;
scarce is it freed from its troubles when it is involved in them anew;
this undetermined state does not always terminate to the advantage of
the most powerful sentiment.
After a long conflict, the soul wearied out with the efforts it has
made, gradually loses its sensibility and force together; and finally
yields to the last impression, which thus remains master of the field.
After many struggles, Lord Finlay was determined to sacrifice his
_inclinations_, or in other words, (what he thought, his life, to his
father.)
This pious resolution, no doubt, was strengthened by his supposing Miss
Burt had acquiesced to the proposed marriage. His resentment supported
his prudence. Such was the situation of Lord Finlay's mind, when Lady
Frances received the following letter from Miss Burt.
'Madam,
You found me in tears, and kindly insinuated your desire to mitigate
my distress; receive from me all the acknowledgments which can proceed
from a full heart, raised from the lowest distress, to a glimmering
prospect of avoiding misery, while that superior Power which witnesses
your generosity, will _reward it_. Thus, when unhappy, we grasp at
the least shadow of relief! we seize upon it with eagerness, and
in a moment raise ourselves above our afflictions. When an unhappy
drowning wretch is carried away by the current, while intimidated by
the steepness of the banks, and the rapidity of the torrent, he looks
upon death as inevitable; his sinews relax, his heart fails him, he
looks forward to an awful dreaded futurity: but if the least twig
presents its friendly assistance, his courage at last revives, he
raises his head, he seizes upon it with a hasty avidity, and makes a
sudden and violent effort to save himself from destruction. Such is my
application to your ladyship. Heaven grant you may avert from me those
evils I so much dread! even the horror of involving my respectable
parents _in want and misery_. My father's probity has entailed on
him poverty; and my grandfather's half-pay is our sole dependance,
exclusive of the salary Lord Munster settled on my respectable parent
when he undertook to superintend the education of his son; and which
he promised to continue for life, in compensation for his giving up
_all other pursuits_. I flatter myself, the frowardness of his unhappy
daughter will not frustrate his lordship's beneficence, and which he
judged his labours entitled him to. May I intreat your ladyship will
soften, through the medium of your influence, the refusal of the honor
intended me!
_An attempt to deceive would wring my soul to torture_: Can I then
take upon me vows at the altar, incompatible with the feelings of
my heart, and the possibility of conforming myself to? forbid it,
gratitude, truth, and justice! let me sooner become a martyr to these,
as my unfortunate father. In every event of my life, integrity and
honor shall influence me. If my refusal is not founded upon the most
_advantageous_, yet it is upon the most _worthy_ terms: if that of
embracing _tranquility_ before _profit_, and preferring probity of
mind, even attended with the greatest inconveniences, before its
opposite, although surrounded with every outward accommodation, be
deserving of that epithet. I ask pardon for this intrusion, and have
the honor to be
Your Ladyship's
Obliged humble servant,
MARY ANN BURT.'
The little tenderness Lord Munster had ever shewn Lady Frances, the
impressions she entertained of the sourness of his disposition, and the
severity of his temper; all conspired to fill her with the greatest awe
and dread of his displeasure. It may then be easily judged how badly
qualified she was for the office enjoined her in the letter. To add to
her distress, her valuable friend Mrs Norden was absent, and she dared
not conceal the receipt of it until her return, as it was a subject that
admitted of no delay.
She accordingly summoned up sufficient courage to take the letter in her
hand, and to present herself before her father; when her timidity and
confusion were sufficient vouchers of her unwillingness to be an agent
in such a disagreeable business. Her apprehensions were considerably
increased, when the earl asked her, in a harsh tone, _her business with
him_? Being unable to reply, and trembling from head to foot, she gave
him the letter--which he eagerly pursued, while he was alternately
agitated with indignation, pride, and confusion! He at length broke
into a great rage, loading Lady Frances with invectives, for having
innocently produced these emotions, adding, that he then discovered the
cause of her partiality for Miss Burt: but that if she, or Lord Finlay,
ever presumed, from that time forward, to hold any communication with
_the Burt family_, he should consider them as aliens _to his_! Where
friendship is reversed, and turned to enmity, the _latter_ is generally
as _extreme_, as the _former_ was _fervent_. If we were more regular
in _our affections_, we should be more moderate in _our aversions_,
and, without consulting our interest, should hate nothing but what is
really odious: but we are so unjust, that we judge only of things by
their relation to us; we approve of them when agreeable to us, and, by
a strange infatuation, do not esteem them as good or bad, but by the
satisfaction of disgust they give us: we would have them alter their
quality according to our caprices, and cameleon like, assume our
colours, and accommodate themselves to our desires. We fain would be the
center of the world, and have all creatures join with us in inclination.
Lord Munster was not only disappointed in his affections, but piqued in
pride, that, after he had by his intrigues led some of the first princes
in Europe, and made them subservient to his views, a little obscure
girl should render him the laughing-stock of the country. Lady Frances
retired, not daring to return him any answer.
Lord Finlay met her, and, alarmed at her appearance, followed her into
her apartment, intreating to know the subject of the letters she had
received from Miss Burt! She informed him of it, and the disagreeable
task she had just executed; when his looks very soon (to one of her
penetration) betrayed the situation of his heart. He owned to Lady
Frances that his life depended on Miss Burt, their mutual affection,
and the violence he had done his inclinations, by the obligations he
had imposed on himself to subdue his passion whilst it interfered with
his father: but remarked with joy, that he was now relieved from such
a painful effort. 'The Almighty,' said he, 'my dear sister,' (for he
was in a state of mind which both inclined him to be wise and kind)
'implanted both reason and the passions in human nature, mutually to
conduce to men's happiness. But, in order to become a happy creature,
man is not blindly to follow the impulses of his passion to the
exclusion of reason: nor is he to contradict his natural desires but
when they invert the order of nature, and oppose the common good of
society, the dictates of right reason, and the manifest design of
Providence.--I have done what man could do,' added he; 'I did not
interfere when my father was concerned; but I will not relinquish the
object of my affections to any other man breathing.' This was Lord
Finlay's philosophy, which he strictly adhered to--Tremblingly alive
to his interest, Lady Frances told him the risque he would run of his
father's displeasure; but the impetuosity of his passion rendered
him deaf to her remonstrances; and, regardless of everything but its
gratification, he sat down and wrote the following letter to Miss Burt.
'Madam,
The strict injunctions of my father, that all communication should
cease between our families, renders it necessary for me to _write_,
instead of _waiting_ on you in person. Alas, how poor a substitute is
the former for the latter! To express my sorrow, or paint my grief,
is impossible! Were you to know my distress, you would be sensible of
my sufferings, and compassionate my wretchedness! To be debarred from
the presence of your respectable parents, to whom I have a thousand
obligations, and for whom I feel the greatest respect and tenderest
regard, is a very great hardship: but to be prevented from beholding
you, is downright tyranny, and forces me to rebel! Could I see Mr
Burt, I would intreat him to pardon, what I am mortified to call the
injustice of my father, and assure him that nothing shall be wanting,
on my part, to soften, and bring him to reason. But I know too well
the inflexibility of his virtue, he will not see me contrary to the
inhibitions I have received.
Permit me on my knees to intreat from you that favor I dare not
request from him! We may meet at--any day before seven in the morning.
My life depends on your answer! Let us at least enjoy the soothing
pleasure, the melancholy consolation of mingling griefs, and bearing a
part in each other's sorrows; satisfaction that even renders despair
itself more tolerable! Be persuaded there is nothing, not even my
father, that can divert my eye, my heart, or hand, from an opportunity
of expressing how much I am, with the greatest respect,
Your devoted
Humble servant,
FINLAY'
After dispatching the above letter, Lord Finlay spent his time,
fluctuating every moment between hope and despair, agitated with all
the pains of a solicitous suspence; but Miss Burt was too much attached
to him not to agree to his proposal, nor did her condescension at all
infringe on her delicacy.--She could not suppose that the good qualities
so distinguishable in her lover, and which had been so studiously
cultivated by _her father_, could be _only_ violated to the dishonor
of _his daughter_. Lord Finlay's passion was too ardent to submit to
prudence, and could not be long concealed: they met often, and remained
long together; time is easily forgot in the society of those we love--In
Cupid's dial, _hours_ are but _minutes_.--Their interviews were
discovered.
Captain Lewis being informed of it, jealous of his honor, insisted
on Lord Finlay's instantly espousing his grand-daughter; who, loaded
with his reproaches, led away by his passion, and the fears of being
interdicted from steering her more--forgot every thing but the
justification of his honorable intentions.
The indignation with which Lord Munster was seized when informed of this
marriage, is easier to be conceived than delineated. He swore he would
never see his son more, or contribute to his support!
The passions are more easily excited in the young than in the old; in
women, as being of a frame more delicate than in men; in the poor and
distressed, than in the rich and fortunate, for prosperity hardens
the heart; in the illiterate than in the learned, because more prone
to admire; and for the same reason in those who have lived privately,
than in men of large experience; but when once fixed, are not so easily
eradicated as in the others.
The indiscreet solicitations of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, served
only to exasperate him _the more_. A weak friend, if he will be kind,
ought to go no further than wishes: if he either says or does more, it
is _dangerous_. Good intentions are indispensable to constitute a good
man; but other adjuncts are necessary to form the man who interferes in
our behalf. An excellent cause has often suffered through an indifferent
advocate; and I once heard of a lawyer retained by his client, to _hold
his peace for him_.
In consequence of Lord Munster's implacability, Lord and Lady Finlay
were involved in a variety of wretchedness, and most affecting distress;
under all which they bore up with becoming fortitude, and never departed
from that dignity of behaviour, which innate virtue, and conscious
innocence inspire; strengthened by true principles of religion, and
a rational trust in providence, tempered with genuine humility, and
unfeigned resignation to whatever fate should be alloted them. In every
action of their lives they had a view to each other: if they were
serious, or cheerful, amused or grieved, still by their sympathy and
love, every trifle made a pleasure, and every pleasure was heightened
into rapture, by their mutual participation of it. Their hearts exulted
with that joy which is built on the strong foundation of undissembled
tenderness. Happy it is for mortals, that grief is only an exotic in
the human breast--the soil does not naturally afford nutriment for its
constant growth. A perfect similarity of sentiment soon produced that
mutual happiness which arises from loving another better than one's
self: they were no longer anxious for events they could not direct, nor
tasted pain from the disappointment of their hopes.
The half-pay of Captain Lewis, was the only ostensible support of his
unfortunate family, increased by the birth of several children: but
their income had been enlarged, by Mr Burt's literary productions. His
greatest enjoyment was in study--pleasures vary with each different age;
for God and nature never made any faculty, either in soul or body, but
he prepared a suitable object in order to its regular gratification.
The follies of men of a certain age, on this account, have the
pre-eminence to all others, a ridiculous dignity, that gives them a
right _to be laughed at in the first place_. The phenomenon of feeling
amorous pursuits under grey hairs, may as much astonish us, as to see
those mountains whose top is covered with snow, and whose bowels abound
with flames. Mr Burt had a happy temper, formed on the principles of
Christian philosophy. Such was his cheerfulness, that none of the
accidents of life could discompose him; such his fortitude, that not
even the severest trials could unman him. He had a collected spirit, and
on no occasion wanted a resource. He could retire within himself, and
hold the world at defiance.
His amiable daughter possessed also these qualities in an eminent
degree. Captain Lewis dying, their circumstances were reduced; but
Lady Finlay, by her ingenuity supplied the loss they sustained in his
half-pay. She had a fine genius for painting, and in that art did
wonders. By the sale only of a _Crucifixion_, and an _Arcadia_, she
maintained her family for two years. She concealed her name, lest she
should irritate Lord Munster more against her; but had too much good
sense to be ashamed of employing those talents, bestowed on her by
nature for _so natural a purpose_. And the hours that the _indolent_
devote _to rest_, and the licentious to _pleasure_, she dedicate to
providing bread for her family. Good blood cannot be kept up, without
the shambles of the market, so it is no scandal to procure _that_ by
ingenuity or industry, when the appendages of gentility are so far
reduced as not to afford it otherwise.
The picture called Arcadia, is in the possession of the Marquis of
P----. In it there is exhibited a view of the most delightful region,
with the grandest rural scenery in the world; and a romantic wildness
runs through the whole, which gives uncommon beauties to the piece. Her
happy fancy, and the prospects in the country (they had retired to Wales
for cheapness) supplied her with vales more charming than those of _Juan
Fernandez_, with lawns like those of _Tinian_, and finer water-falls
than those of _Quibo_. She copied the greatest beauties in nature, and
formed the finest imitations. The invention of the whole is extremely
pleasing; and has been applauded by all who have seen it, as a master
piece in the landscape way.
Lady Finlay's health decreasing she could no longer _exert this
talent_; and the miserable situation to which her Lord was reduced, in
consequence of his attachment to her, afforded her constant uneasiness.
The griping hand of poverty, produced painful fears, and corroding
cares, while the anxiety of mind _each_ suffered for _the other_,
increased their _mutual calamity_.
The death of two fine children at last entirely subdued Lady Finlay's
remaining spirits--She died in child-bed, (the infant surviving her
a few hours) leaving behind her only two children. It was then Lord
Finlay's cup of affliction was filled. He had reason to fear, the
deceased, dearest object of his tenderest affections, had perished for
want of proper assistance. _Assistance!_ their scanty circumstances
denied! If previous to this, when he perceived in her any marks of
sorrow, it was to him as if all nature had been eclipsed; what must have
been his sensations _then_? they were too great for humanity to support!
His reason forsook him; and the third day after her decease, he expired
in the delirium of madness.
Nothing can give a better sense of the consideration man ought to have
of his latter end, than the following lines of Sir Thomas More:
'You'd weep, if sure you'd but one month to stay;
Yet laugh, uncertain of a single day!'
Few are the happy marriages contracted contrary to the consent of
parents.--Disobedience to them, like murder, seldom goes unpunished in
this life[1]. Mr Burt wrote Lady Frances Finlay a letter informing her
of the melancholy catastrophe of this unfortunate couple, and beseeching
her interest with Lord Munster, in behalf of their helpless progeny.
'Could tears, Madam,' said he, 'write as legibly as ink, my streaming
eyes would be an inexhaustible fund, to assist me to send you the
woes of a poor old man, and to pour forth the sorrows of my soul! But
_Cicero_ could not have _described_, _Apelles_ could not have _painted_,
nor _Roscius_ have _represented_, the heartrending scenes I have lately
witnessed.'
Lord Munster died the day before his daughter received the above
letter. He had for some time before lost all sensation. The pleasures
or pains of others were to him of so little importance, that he lived
as if he had been the only creature himself in the universe. He could
not bear to hear of the applause some of his opponents in politics
had acquired, and grudged them a reputation he thought only suitable
to his own distinguished abilities. Different from that conqueror,
of whom it is said he silenced the whole earth, he fancied that the
whole world must talk of his disgrace. He could not support it; and
a pistol put an end to his wretched existence. A careful observer of
events will frequently see, that flagrant vices are punished by some
remarkable strokes of wretchedness, and bad dispositions made sensible
of the evils they bring on others. Never did any Greek or Roman commit
suicide, from too quick a sense of private misfortunes.--Vain glory in
the vulgar may be supportable, nay, may be diverting; but in a great man
it is _intolerable_: nothing is greater in a man, than to be above even
greatness _itself_.
Lady Frances was left by her father the entire possession of the family
estate.--She immediately wrote to Mr Burt, desiring he would leave a
place which must necessarily revive in him such melancholy ideas, and
bring her nephew and niece to Munster house; enclosing him a sum of
money to discharge debts, and to defray the expenses of the journey. He
instantly complied with her request, and resided with her, though she
immediately not only settled on him the annuity he had formerly been
promised, but also paid the arrears due on it.
Had Lord and Lady Finlay lived a few weeks longer, Lady Frances would
have cheerfully assigned to them the estate bequeathed to her, and which
their virtues so justly entitled them to.
It is a strong argument for a state of retribution hereafter, that in
this world _virtuous people_ are often _very miserable_, and _vicious
ones happy_, which is wholly repugnant to the nature of a Being, who
appears infinitely wise and good in all his works, unless we may
suppose, that such a promiscuous and undistinguishing distribution
of good and evil, which was necessary for carrying on the designs of
Providence in this life, will be rectified and made amends for in
another.
Lady Frances possessed the most attractive beauty, was surrounded with
every grace, and blessed with every virtue, that could enslave the
affections, and captivate the soul of the most stubborn philosophers.
The sound of her voice had an engaging sweetness; and her expressions
were well chose, without being affected.--In a word, it was her
character and mind that gave charms to her person. Lord Darnley made his
addresses to her, in which he had been countenanced by Lord Munster, and
every preparation was making for their nuptials, before her father's
death.
Lord Darnley was one of the most amiable of men. He gave a grace to
every thing he said--a refined and delicate wit enlivened all his
discourse, and the vivacity of his imagination discovered itself
continually in fresh sallies. But what irresistibly fixed Lord Munster's
partiality; was the art with which he disguised his _own wit_ and
_knowledge_ to make _him shine_. He conformed entirely to that pleasing
criterion of true humour which Mr Addison gave,--'That it looks grave
itself, while it makes all others laugh.' He had a turn for placing
things in a ridiculous point of view, which was highly diverting--but by
this he never offended; he formed his ridicule on a circumstance, which
the party attacked, was not in his heart unwilling to grant him; that he
was guilty of an excess in something which in itself was laudable[2].
He very well understood what he chose to be, what was his predominant
passion, and knew he need not fear his anger, for declaring he was a
little _too much the thing_.
Nice raillery is a decent mixture of praise and reproach; it touches
slightly upon little failings, only to dwell the more upon great
qualities. I believe what renders courtiers pleasing, is the attention
they pay to the self-love of others. I shall only add, that the
politeness of Lord Darnley's manners would not suffer him to omit any
of those engaging attentions which are so capable of pleasing; and as
he was deeply in love with Lady Frances, he inspired her with mutual
sentiments. How then must it surprise the world to find, that upon her
sudden acquisition of wealth, the marriage did not take place! The
philosopher, experienced in the vicissitudes of human events, views such
sudden dissolutions of the most intimate connections without surprise
or amazement. In regard to the moral and political world, it is not
always great and adequate causes that produce strange and surprising
events; on the contrary, they often are the result of things seemingly
small, and utterly disproportionate to their effects. The same constant
fluctuation that attends the seasons, and all the appendages of the
globe we inhabit, affects the heart of man, making it a prey, by turns,
to different passions. The well-regulated mind alone, can boast of any
degree of consistency, and _that_ too often late in life, the product
of long experience, and unnumbered cares. It was in vain Lord Darnley
declared the disinterestedness of his passion, and intreated Lady
Frances to settle the property of the family out of his power, previous
to her marriage.
She remained unmoved; only assured him, that nothing but what she
apprehended was her first duty, could alienate her from him, and that
she never would dispose of herself to any _other_: but advised him to
marry. She applied herself entirely to the care of her family, and to
the improvement of that property invested in her person.
Living entirely in the country, she sought, in the beauty of nature, in
science, and the love of order, that satisfaction, which in the world
(where people are the _slaves of apology, and the dupes of caprice_) is
eagerly pursued, but _never found_. It is principally on this account,
that people in general are so often declaiming against human life.
She considered society is manifestly maintained by a circulation of
kindness: we are all of us, in some way or other, wanting assistance,
and in like manner qualified to give it. None are in a state of
independency on their fellow-creatures. The most slenderly endowed are
not a mere burthen on the community; even they can contribute their
share to the common good. We learn what are justly our mutual claims,
from this mutual dependency; that on its account, as well as for other
reasons, our life is not to pass in a round of pleasure of idleness,
or according to the suggestions of mere fancy, or in sordid or selfish
pursuits. Can there be any thing more evidently our duty than that we
should return the kindness we receive; than that, if many are employed
in promoting our interest, we should be as intent in advancing theirs?
All men are by nature equal: their common passions and affections, their
common infirmities, their common wants, give such constant remembrances
of this equality, even to those who are most disposed to forget it, that
they cannot, with all their endeavours, render themselves unmindful of
it. They cannot become _insensible_, how unwilling soever they may be
to _consider_, that their debt is as much their demands, as they owe to
others as much as they reasonably can expect from them. It is not to be
supposed that Providence would have made such distinctions among men,
such unequal distributions, but that they might endear themselves to one
another by mutual helps and obligations. Gratitude is the surest bond of
love, friendship, and society.
The various conditions of human life seem so admirably adapted to the
several dispositions of individuals, that if our happiness in this life
were intended, the unequal distribution of the gifts of fortune affords
the most plausible means to effect it. Through nature, indeed, love
is centered at home, and not improperly, though the most amiable and
God-like is the most diverged. But as the principle regards of human
love, are, for the much greater part, over selfish and contracted,
the divine goodness has so directed its operations, as to render them
necessary, and very often unintentionally productive of common social
good. I have often observed, that people favoured by fortune seldom feel
for the pain of the mind, even though they themselves are the authors of
it; their pity alone is excited by certain disgraces, certain exterior
evils, such as sickness and poverty. This was by no means the case with
Lady Frances, who interested herself in the distresses of the soul, with
a goodness equally noble and judicious, and offered to the unhappy, all
those labouring under any species of innocent distress, consolation and
relief.
Her education taught her, that _virtue_ and _abilities_ can only procure
us real happiness, and that nothing but _doing good_, in that sphere of
life in which we are placed, can afford the true felicity to a noble
soul. Upon her father's death she found herself possessed of an estate
of twenty thousand pounds a year, and three hundred thousand pounds
in mortgages. The house and pleasure grounds were in great disrepair,
from the late Earl's constant residence in London and the _environs_.
Lady Frances sent for Mr Brown, who found great _capabilities_ in the
situation: under his direction it is now one of the finest places in
England. She acquainted him of her intention of building a number of
houses for the reception of artificers, and the introduction of certain
manufactures. He fixed upon a beautiful situation, at the side of a
navigable river. Mr Adams approved very much of the plan Lady Frances
submitted to his inspection--he perfected and improved it. It consisted
of one hundred houses; and a _tribuna_[3] in the center. Upon the solid
foundation of the Doric, the Ionic, and Corinthian orders rise gradually
with all their beauty, proportion, and ornaments.
The fabric seizes the most incurious eye. No modern building is
comparable to it for the outward decorations; and for the disposition
within, it has been formed from whatever ancient and modern times afford
most adapted and suitable to the purpose of the structure, not excluding
decorations, which are distributed with equal taste and economy. The
sciences and arts are assembled together in this fine building, and
connected (if I may be allowed the expression) by a large and well
chosen library in all faculties: Here is whatever the lower people's
interest, or the man of taste's curiosity can desire. The first object
that presents itself to the eye, on entering into this noble hall,
which is no less spacious than splendid, is the statue of the founder,
inviting the lovers of literature to make use of the helps which she has
provided for them. This statue is of white marble, as large as life,
and entirely worthy of Mr More, the artist; who has improved the exact
likeness with an air of grandeur and benevolence, dignity and
affability.
And what is a very well chosen ornament for such a place, there is a
representation of nine of the most eminent libraries--the Babylonian,
Athenian, Alexandrian, Palatine, etc.--with short inscriptions giving
an account of each. And to set in view, the origin and first advance
of learning in several countries--there are painted on large pilasters
ranged along the middle of the library, those persons who were reputed
to have been the inventor of letters in several languages. Adam,
Abraham, Moses, Mercurius, Ægyptius, Hercules, Cadmus, Cecrops,
Pythagoras, and several others, with the letters which each of these are
said to have invented written under their pictures.
This library is open at stated times, (like that of the Vatican, and
the French king's) with every proper accommodation to all strangers.
This was greatly wanted in this kingdom. London, after so many ages,
remains without any considerable public library. The best is the Royal
Society's: but even that is inconsiderable; neither is it open to the
public; nor are the necessary conveniences afforded strangers for
reading or transcribing. The British Museum is rich in manuscripts, the
Harleian Collection, the Cottonian Library, the collection of Charles
I. and many others, especially on our own history; but it is wretchedly
poor in printed books: and it is not sufficiently accessible to the
public; their revenue not being sufficient to enable them to pay a
proper number of attendants.[4]
An ingenious Persian lately in England, gave an account of many thousand
Arabian manuscripts, totally unknown to the gentlemen of the university
of Oxford. It is to be wished these were procured. The Orientals and
Hebrews were the parents of knowledge, and the Greeks no more than
their scholars: how gross were their notions of prudence and _virtue_,
till Orpheus, and the travelled philosophers taught them better! The
institutions of modern nations are not to be compared to those of
the ancients, as almost all these had the advantage of being founded
by philosophers. Athens and Sparta were the two first formed states
of Greece. Solon and Lycurgus, who had seen the success of the plan
conducted by Minos in Crete, and who partly copied after that wise
prince, erected these two celebrated republics. The sagacious system of
Egypt served as a model to all the east.
The astronomical observatory is furnished with the best instruments;
anatomy has an amphitheatre, and a spacious room filled with a compleat
set of anatomical pieces in wax.
Painting and sculpture, besides a most convenient apartment for the
study and practice of these arts, have two large rooms full of models of
the most valuable remains of antiquity, taken from the originals.
The pupils of architecture have a hall, crowded with designs and models
of the finest pieces, ancient and modern--and there are contiguous
apartments where all the liberal sciences are read and taught, as logic,
physic, ethics, metaphysics, astronomy, geography, geometry, etc.
These assemblage of studies in every branch is further enriched with
curious museums of antiques, and natural history. All these advantages
are heightened by the lectures of able professors in every art and every
science.
This academy receives two hundred scholars, affords them a liberal
support, and leads them through a perfect course of education; from the
first elements of letters, through the whole circle of the sciences;
from the lowest class of grammatical learning, to the highest degrees
in the several faculties. It properly and naturally consists of two
parts, rightly forming two establishments, the one subordinate to the
other. The design of the one was to lay the foundation of science; that
of other, to raise and compleat the superstructure: the former was to
supply the latter with proper subjects; and the latter was to improve
the advantages received in the former.
The young gentlemen in the neighbourhood are permitted to receive
instructions from the several professors--and a day is set apart,
when they examine young people, in order to discover wherein their
genius conflicts, and to what kind of studies or employments they
naturally are suited. Every man finds in himself a particular bent and
disposition to some particular character; and his struggling against
it is the fruitless and endless labour of Sisyphus. Let him follow and
cultivate _that_ vocation, he will succeed in it, and be considerable
in one way at least; whereas, if he departs from it, he will at best
be _inconsiderable_, probably _ridiculous_. Cicero said, that masters
should consider the nature of their scholars, least they should act
like unskilful husbandmen, who would sow wheat in a soil, that was only
proper for oats. Might it not prove an useful institution if public
societies were erected on this plan? By this means most subjects might
become beneficial to the public; and not only the arts be brought to
perfection, but all the posts of government be well supplied: whereas,
we now daily hear complaints of the want of proper persons to direct
affairs, whilst the youth are condemned to studies, and matriculated
into certain arts or employments before they arrive at years of
discretion.
Some parents on the birth of a son determine what profession he is to
be of. The father sometimes designs his son for a judge, because his
grand-father was one[5], which may be as absurd as to design a _weakly
child_ for a _running footman_, or a _purblind boy_ for a _painter_.
Sometimes a young man is to be a colonel because he is tall, or an
alderman because he has a large belly.
When any remarkable genius displayed itself in any of the young men,
their talents have cultivated for that art of science. The master for
oratory was recommended by Mr Sheridan, who says that the art of oratory
may be taught upon as certain principles, and with as good a prospect of
success, as it ever was by the rhetoricians of Greece or Rome, or as the
arts of music, painting, etc. are taught by their several professors. He
formed himself on Quintilian's institutes of eloquence, who particularly
recommends _chironomy_, or gracefulness of action, which took rise in
the age of heroism, was practised by the greatest men in Greece, was
approved of by Socrates, ranked by Plato amongst the civil virtues, and
recommended by Chrysippus in his treatise upon the education of youth.
Quintilian had the acquisition of an hundred years after Cicero's death,
to improve his knowledge--he had greater opportunities than Cicero ever
had to study 'that intellectual relation, that secret charm, in the
liberal professions, which, connecting one to the other, combines them
all.'
One angle of the _tribuna_ is entirely dedicated to the education of
women. Twenty young ladies are admitted, and there are funds for their
perpetual maintenance, as that of the two hundred scholars. In the
selection of these young gentlewomen, she always gives the preference
to those who labour under any imperfection of body--endeavouring, by
increasing their resources _within themselves_, to compensate for their
_outward defects_. When it is found that any of these ladies have a
taste for any manual or mental art, they cultivate it, and assist them
in the pleasantest means, and by various little attentions confirm these
inclinations with all the spirit of pursuit requisite to preserve minds
(in general) from that state of languidness and inactivity, whereby
life is rendered irksome to those who have never found it unfortunate.
In this establishment she entirely runs counter to that of Madame de
Maintenon's at Saint Cyr; where the young women, who should have been
instructed in rural labours, and economy in the duties of a family, in
the employments of _Solomon's virtuous women_, by their education, were
only fit to be addressed by men who were rich enough to require in a
wife nothing _but virtue_. This is also the foible of too many parents,
who all expect their daughters are to fill exalted stations in life, and
by educating them with that view, disqualify them for their after lot.
As divines say that some people take more pains to be damned than
it would cost them to be saved, so many people employ more thought,
memory, and application, to be fools, than would serve to make them
wise and useful members of society. The ancients esteemed it an honor
to understand the making of every thing necessary for life one's self,
without any dependence on others; and it is that which Homer most
commonly calls _wisdom_ and _knowledge_. He describes old Eumæus making
his own shoes, and says, he had built some fine stalls for the cattle
he bred. Ulysses himself built his own house, and set up his bed with
great art, the structure of which served to make him known to Penelope
again. When he left Calypso, it was he alone that built and rigged the
ship.--From all which we see the spirit of these ancient times.
These young ladies are not instructed to declaim with grace, or sing
with taste; but if they are less amusing, they are infinitely more
useful and interesting companions to those they afterwards associate
with, whether in the character of wives or friends. Several of them
have married very well in the neighbourhood. There is no sentiment more
cold, or of shorter continuance, than admiration. We grow weary of a
set of features, though ever so beautiful. Between folly, and a homely
person, there is this difference; the latter is constantly the same, at
least with imperceptible alteration, whilst folly is ever putting on
some new appearance, and giving, by that means, fresh pain and disgust.
However true this may be, I believe it would require some rhetoric to
convince a young man not to prefer the folly that accompanies beauty,
to wisdom and deformity. Though Sir Francis Bacon assures us in his
natural philosophy, that our taste is never better pleased than with
those things which at first created a disgust in us. He gives particular
instances of porter, olives, and other things, which the palate seldom
approves of at first; but when it has once got a relish of them,
generally retains it for life.
The streets, which were built on each side of the _Tribuna_, were
uniform, and the houses ornamented with emblematical figures of the
different trades intended for the possessors. She permitted them to
live rent-free for the two first years, and admitted none but such who
excelled in their art. This was certainly very political--By encouraging
them in this manner, it enabled them at first to work, and sell their
manufactures at a moderate rate; which insured them the business of
the neighbouring counties that would otherwise have sent at a greater
distance, for what could be equally produced at home.[6]
The size of the houses decreases gradually from the centre of every
street. As Lady Frances spared no expense in the execution, Mr Adams
directed it with the greatest taste and propriety. The smallest houses
are, indeed, exteriorly, the handsomest, on account of their twisted
columns; yet, as they convey an idea of weakness, they always displease
when they are made use of as supports to heavy buildings. The different
orders succeed each other, from the Corinthian to the Tuscan, according
to the size of the houses. Mr Hogarth observes on this head, that the
bulks and proportions of objects are governed by fitness and propriety;
that it is this which has established the size and proportion of
chairs, tables, and all sorts of utensils and furniture; has fixed the
dimensions of pillars, arches, etc. for the support of great weights;
and so regulated all the orders in architecture.
In the course of ten years Lady Frances brought all the above plans to
perfection; which she the more easily effected from Mr Burt's having
maintained a correspondence with the _literati_ in most parts of the
world. And as the encouragement given was great, it is not surprising
that her academy became a seat of the muses, and a place to which many
resorted for the solution of literary doubts.
If their ears were enchanted by harmony, their eyes were equally
ravished by the beauties of painting and sculpture. In this charming
mansion is blended the improvement of the arts, with that of
philosophy: an exquisite assemblage of all the sweets of life.
Architecture, statuary, painting, and music, find in her a patroness.
Refinement of taste in a nation, is always accompanied with refinement
of manners. People accustomed to behold order and elegance in public
buildings, and public gardens, acquire urbanity in private. The
Italians, on the revival of the liberal arts and sciences, gave them
the name of _virtù_; from this was derived the term of _virtuoso_,
which has been accepted throughout Europe. Should not this appellation
intimate, to those who assume it to themselves, that the study of what
is beautiful, in nature or art, ought to render them more virtuous than
other men. Exclusive of the above buildings, there are others finely
adapted to their different purposes, at the same time calculated to
ornament the grounds. There are manufactories of different kinds; and
silks wrought by hydraulic machines, which renders the workmanship more
easy and expeditious. Lady Frances procured artificers from Tuscany
for a porcelain manufacture, which has continued with them from the
ancient Etruscans. She has also established a manufacture of earthen
ware, procuring models of Etruscan vases in Terra Cotta, made after
those in the Vatican library. These are used even in the most common
vessels. She also took some pains in regulating the dress of the young
women. A country girl returning from the spring with a pitcher of water
on her head, perfectly resembles those figures which the most exquisite
antiques represent in the same attitude. The great share _variety_ has
in producing beauty, may be seen in the ornamental part of nature;
the shapes and colours of plants, flowers, leaves; the painting in
butterflies wings, shells, etc. which seem of little other intended use,
than that of entertaining the eye with the pleasure of variety: in this
all the senses delight and are equally averse to sameness--The ear is as
much offended with one continued note, as the eye is with being fixed to
a point, or to the view of a dead wall.
Every building is rendered ornamental to the grounds. There is a
botanical garden, which is filled with plants and flowers, which have
been presented to Linnæus, from whom she received them, from every part
of the globe. One of his pupils resided here, in an elegant habitation,
in which there is a rotunda where lectures on botany are given: this
fine room is surrounded with exotic plants. Mr Burt entirely concurred
with Linnæus, in wishing, that gentlemen designed for theological
studies were directed to apply as much time to the study of physics
as they spent in metaphysics and logic, which he judges neither so
indispensably necessary, nor useful as the former.
Lady Frances also erected an hospital for the reception of two hundred
incurables; a thing much wanted in this kingdom, without paying any
regard to their country, religion, or disease, requiring no security
in case of death. The practice of most of the public hospitals in this
country is widely different, the restrictions of admission being such
as frequently deprive many from receiving the benefit first intended by
the founder. But she had a fund of charity of another stamp, which gave
her infinitely more pleasure, as it was free from the ostentation of
those acts of public bounty. These were private donations to those whose
circumstances were not yet so bad as to oblige them to beg publicly. If
an industrious tradesman had a numerous family, little business, or a
small stock, she found means to supply his wants, or put him in a way of
carrying on his business to greater advantage, in such a manner, as that
sometimes he himself did not know the source of his relief; at most,
none but the party succoured, and Mr Burt, knew any thing of the matter,
for this worthy man was her secret almoner, and searched out for the
secret necessities of modest and industrious poor. She had the happiness
arising from the consciousness of having maintained numerous families in
decent plenty, who, without her well-timed and secret bounty, must have
been a charge to the parish. But she was a great enemy to poor-rates,
judging with Davenant, that they will be the bane of our manufactures.