HOW THE DOCTOR WROTE TO KITTY.
The next morning at dinner, we heard the summons of the post-boy's
horn, and Cicely presently ran in with a letter in her hand. It was
addressed to me, in a large bold handwriting, and was sealed with red
wax. I opened it and found a smaller letter inside it, marked "Private.
For my niece's eye alone." So that both letters were from my uncle, the
Doctor.
"Your private letter," said Mrs. Esther, "doubtless contains some
admonition or advice designed for you alone. Put it in your pocket,
child, and read it in your own room. As for the other letter, as it is
not marked private, it would be well for you to read it aloud, after
dinner, and while we are eating one of my Lord Chudleigh's delicious
peaches."
To this I willingly complied, because I greatly feared the private
letter would contain some instructions concerning the secret which the
Doctor and I possessed between us. Accordingly, the dinner over, I
began the perusal of my uncle's letter.
"MY DEAR NIECE,--You will first of all, and before reading any
further, convey my dutiful respects to the lady by whose goodness
you have been placed in a position as much above what you could
have wished, as her benevolence is above the ordinary experience of
mortals."
"Oh, the excellent man!" cried Mrs. Esther.
"I have to report that, under Providence, I am well in health,
and in all respects doing well; the occupation in which I am now
engaged having received a stimulus by the threatening of a new Act
for the prevention of (so-called) unlawful marriages. The increase
in the number of applicants for marriage hath also (as is natural)
caused an increase in the upstarts and pretenders who claim to have
received canonical orders, being most of them as ignorant as a
butcher's block, and no more ordained than the fellows who bang a
cushion in a conventicle. The clergymen of London complain that the
parsons of the Fleet take away their parishioners, and deprive them
of their fees: they cannot say that I, who never take less than a
guinea, undersell them. You will be glad to learn that Sir Miles
Lackington hath left this place. He hath lately received a legacy
from a cousin of a small estate, and hath made an arrangement with
his creditors, by virtue of which his detainers are now removed.
Nevertheless, we expect him back before long, being well assured
that the same temptation and vice of gambling, which brought him
here before, will again beset him. Yet he promiseth brave things.
We gave him a farewell evening, in which his health was toasted,
and more punch drunk than was good for the heads of some present,
among whom were gentlemen members of the Utter Bar, from the two
Temples and Lincoln's Inn, with many others, and honourable company.
"It will also be a pleasure to you to learn that the ingenious
Mr. Stallabras is also at large. Probably he, too, will return
to us ere long. For the present his sole detaining creditor, who
had supplied him for years with such articles of apparel (at
second-hand) as were necessary for his decent appearance on the
credit of his future glory, agreed to take ten guineas in full
discharge of a bill for forty, which the poet could never hope
to pay, nor the tradesman to receive. The calling of poet is at
best but a poor one, nor should I counsel any one to practise the
writing of verse unless he be a man of fortune, like Mr. Alexander
Pope (unfortunately a Papist), or a Fellow of some substantial
college, such as the Houses of Trinity, Peter, and Christ, at
Cambridge, like Mr. Ray. Nor is there any greater unhappiness than
to draw a bill, to speak after the manner of merchants, upon your
future success and industry, and to be compelled to discount it.
He hath now conceived the idea of a tragedy and of an epic poem.
The first he will endeavour to produce at Drury Lane as soon as it
is written: the second he will immediately get subscribed among
his friends and patrons. Unfortunately he has already obtained
subscriptions, for a volume of verses, and, having eaten the
subscriptions, cannot now find a publisher: in truth, I believe the
verses are not yet written. This melancholy accident obliges him to
seek for new patrons. I wish him well.
"It is, my dear niece, with the greatest satisfaction that I learn
you have, with Mrs. Esther, gone to Epsom. The situation of the
place, the purity of the air upon the Downs, the salubrity of the
waters, the gaiety of the company, will, I hope, all be conducive
to the health of that most excellent lady, your best friend----"
"Oh, the good man!" cried Mrs. Esther.
"To whom I charge you be dutiful, obedient, and careful in the
smallest punctilio. The cheerfulness of the amusements (if Epsom
be the same as when I once visited it, when tutor to a young
gentleman of quality) should communicate to her spirits something
of the joy with which I could now wish her to regard the world. As
for yourself, my child, I am under no apprehension but that music,
gay companions, and your time of life will together make you as
mirthful as is possible for human being. Remember, however, that
happiness is but for a season: that mirth must never pass beyond
the bound of good manners: and that when a woman is no longer
young, the reputation she has earned as a girl remains with her,
even to the grave. Wherefore, Kitty, be circumspect. The town news
is but little: the (so-styled) young Pretender is said to be moving
again, but little importance is now attached to his doings, and for
the moment the Protestant dynasty seems firm. But Heaven knows----"
Here followed a quantity of news about the ministers, the Houses of
Parliament, the foreign news, and so forth, which I omit.
"I have seen a sermon, published this year by one Laurence Sterne,
on 'Conscience,' which I would commend to Mrs. Pimpernel. I also
commend to you Dr. Samuel Johnson's 'Vanity of Human Wishes,' and
the first number of the 'Rambler,' of which I hear great things.
Mr. Henry Fielding hath produced a novel called 'Tom Jones,' of
which the town is talking. I mention it here in order that you
may be cautioned against a book whose sole merit is the faithful
delineation of scenes and characters shocking to the female
moralist. For the same reason I would have thee beware of Mr.
Smollett's 'Peregrine Pickle,' in which, as a man who knows--alas!
the wickedness of the world, I find a great deal to commend.
"The weather has been strangely hot even for July, and fever is
rife in this neighbourhood. I hear that the Bishop of London
threatens me with pains and penalties. I have sent word to his
lordship, that if he will not allow me to marry, I will _bury_, and
that at such prices as will leave his clergy nothing but the fees
of the paupers, beggars, and malefactors.
"I think that I have no more news to send. I would that I were
able to send thee such tidings as might be looked for in a London
letter; but I know not what actor is carrying away all hearts, nor
what lady is the reigning toast, nor what is the latest fashion in
cardinal, sack, patch, or tie-wig, nor anything at all that is dear
to the hearts of an assembly on the Terrace of Epsom. Therefore,
with my duty to Mrs. Pimpernel,--I remain, my dear niece, your
loving uncle,
"GREGORY SHOVEL, _Doctor of Divinity_.
"_Post Scriptum._--I enclose herewith a short letter of admonition,
which thou mayest read by thyself, as such things are not
interesting to Mistress Pimpernel."
"Now," cried Mrs. Esther, "was there ever such a man? Living in such
a place, he preserves his virtue: among such dregs and offscourings
of mankind he stands still erect, proclaiming and preaching Christian
virtue. O Kitty! why was not that man made a bishop? Sure, there is no
other position in the world fit for him. With what eloquence would he
defend Christian faith? With what righteous indignation would he not
expel evil-doers?"
I did not dare to ask, which of course occurred to me, what indignation
he would show against such as violated the law by marrying in the Fleet.
"Now," I said, "with your permission, madam, I will retire, in order to
read my uncle's private letter of admonition."
I opened the short note in fear; yet there was nothing alarming in it.
"MY DEAR NIECE,--I add a word to say that Lord Chudleigh is going
to visit Epsom, and hath either engaged or been offered the mansion
of Durdans for the summer: perhaps he is already there. It may be
that you will make his acquaintance: in any case you cannot fail
of being interested in his doings. Since his visit to the Fleet,
I hear that he has been afflicted with a continual melancholy, of
which you and I know the cause. He has also led a very regular and
almost monastic life, reproaching himself continually for that
lapse from temperance which led to what he regards as the curse of
his life.
"Child, if he pays you attentions, receive them with such
coquettish allurements as your sex knows how to hang out. On this
point I cannot advise. But if he is attracted by more showy and
more beautiful women"--I looked at the glass and smiled--"then
be careful not to exhibit any jealousy or anger. Remember that
jealousy and anger have ruined many a _femina furens_, or raging
woman. Let things go on, as if nothing of all that you and I wot
of had happened. He will be watched, and at the right time will be
called upon to acknowledge his wife. Such a return for the evil
done me by his father shall be mine. And with such a return of good
for evil, a brilliant position for yourself. If he should fall
in love, if he hath not already done so, with another woman, you
would, in one moment, blast his hopes, trample on all that he held
dear, and make him ridiculous, a criminal, and a deceiver. But it
is at all times a more Christian thing for a man to fall in love
with his own wife.
"Remember, my dear Kitty, I place the utmost reliance on thy
good sense. Above all, no woman's jealousies, rages, and fits of
madness. These things will only do thee harm.
"Your loving uncle,
"GREGORY SHOVEL, _Doctor of Divinity_."
Were one a stock or a stone; had one no feelings; were one destitute of
pity, sympathy, and compassion, these letters might have been useful as
guides to conduct. But the thing had happened to me which my uncle, in
his worldly wisdom, could never calculate upon: I had fallen in love
with Lord Chudleigh: I was passionately anxious that he should fall in
love with me. What room, in such a condition of mind as was this man,
for advice so cold, so interested as this? Return good for evil? What
had I to do with that? I wanted to wreak no vengeance on my lord: I
would have surrounded him with love, and been willing to become his
servant, his slave, anything, if only he would forgive me, take me
for his sweetheart, and make me his wife. But to lay those snares: to
look on coldly while he made love to other women: to wait my time, so
as to bring shame and remorse upon that noble heart--that, Kitty, was
impossible. Yet I could not write to my uncle things which he could
not understand. I could not say that I repented and was very sorry:
that I loved my lord, and was determined to inflict no harm upon him:
and that, if he chose to fall in love with another woman--who was I,
indeed, that he should love me?--I was firmly resolved that no act
or word of mine should injure him, even though I had to stand in the
church and see him with my own eyes married to that other--that happy
woman--before the altar.