One Tuesday night, as Julia was not ready nor had even begun to dress
when I called for her, I went to the Opera alone. Judge my surprise on
entering my box, to find the front fully occupied by two immensely fat
city-sort of ladies, and an elderly stupid-looking man in powder.
"There must be some mistake, I fancy," said I civilly.
"How do you mean, madam?" asked the powdered man.
"This is my private box, and you may see my name on the outside of it."
The party in great haste produced three bone-tickets, which they had
purchased for eight shillings each at Mr. Ebers's.
"They are the three tickets I am in the habit of disposing of every
night. Lady Castlereagh does the same thing; but nobody ever thinks of
intruding their society on me here. The tickets are sold for the pit."
"For the pit indeed!" said one of the ladies with indignation, "the pit!
whoever heard tell of such a thing! You're much more fitter ma'am, for
aught I know, to go into the pit yourself than we are. Is our dress a
pit-dress or a gallery-dress ma'am?"
"I fancy, madam, you are thinking of the play or Astley's. You are not
accustomed to the Opera I see, or you would not fancy anything too fine
for the pit. I assure you, you will all three cut a brilliant figure
there," said I.
A little Captain Churchill, of the Guards, came into my box at this
moment, and opened his little eyes as wide as his astonishment could
stretch them, at seeing my party.
"Mr. Churchill, these two ladies have bought my tickets of Ebers, and
they insist on taking up the front of my box."
"Oh madam," said Churchill, addressing the eldest, "you really must
not expect to make such a very magnificent appearance for only eight
shillings."
"Silence!" said the fat, powdered gentleman with dignity, and Churchill
stared impudently in his face and burst out into a laugh.
"This is unwarrantable conduct, sir," said the stranger, "and I must
call the box-keeper, if you hinder my whole party from witnessing the
performance."
"Excellent! Upon my word, capital! We are really very much obliged to
you all for being such monstrous good fun," said Churchill, holding his
sides.
"Box-keeper!" roared out the powdered man, and one of them immediately
attended his summons. "These people are a great nuisance, box-keeper,
and they want to make us believe that we have no right to sit in our own
box!"
"Excuse me, sir," said the man, "this box belongs to this lady. It is
Miss Wilson's own private property."
"And pray are not these the tickets of this box?" the stranger inquired.
"They certainly are," replied the man, "and I have no right to refuse
you admittance; but it is a regular, understood thing, when ladies
dispose of their tickets they are for the pit."
"Don't tell me about your regular, understood thing," said the enraged
gentleman. "We have come up to town on purpose to witness an Italian
Opera, and we have procured tickets for this box. Now I'll tell you
what, young man, if you don't make these people silent, I shall apply
to a constable and insist on having them turned out."
"Oh! how very good!" said Churchill, again laughing, and looking at the
party through his glass. "Did you all three come up by steam, or how?"
The box-keeper vainly endeavoured to look serious, while informing them
that he really could not take upon himself to request me or my friend to
be silent, when we were inclined to converse or laugh in my own box, as
it was what everybody did; and many went there for no other purpose but
to chat with their friends.
I requested the box-keeper to send Ebers to me, while the fat ladies
were turning up their eyes, and throwing out contemptuous remarks on the
man for having attempted to impose on them with such an improbable story
as that of people putting themselves to the expense of going to the
King's Theatre, when they only wanted to converse and had no wish to see
the performance.
"Let us make ourselves so disagreeable to them, that they will be glad
to go," said I, in French, which language, from their stupid faces, I
concluded they had not studied.
"I have been trying that plan for the last ten minutes," answered
Churchill; "but, how can _la belle Harriette_ ever expect to succeed in
disgusting others?"
"You shall see," said I, "although I am going to be very vulgar; but the
case is desperate, for it is death to be stuck behind these fat people,
and I shall be quizzed and laughed at for a month, for changing my two
sister-graces, whom I expect every minute, for these two furies." I
then fixed my eyes steadily on the ladies' finery, particularly their
head-dresses, and, immediately afterwards chattered and laughed, in
order to seem as if I was talking at them, although, we never once
mentioned them. Then Churchill would take a peep at their feet, and
laugh again louder than ever.
"Insufferably impertinent!" said the youngest lady, fanning herself
violently; but still they kept their seats.
Mr. Ebers came into the box to express his regrets; and he did all in
his power to convince the ladies that it really was never meant that
those who purchased tickets for the night should enter the private boxes
of ladies who disposed of their tickets.
"And pray, sir," said the eldest lady bridling, "do we look like people
who would bemean ourselves by going into the pit?"
"Don't let's have no more to do," said the powdered gentleman pompously.
"Mr. Ebers! we request you to prevent this bold young man and woman from
making a noise, as we comed here for to see the Opera, not to listen to
all the absurd things you choose to tell us. When we want you we will
call on you in your own shop!"
"Do sit down, Mr. Ebers," said I, pointing to a chair, which he accepted
for a few moments, merely to repeat his regrets that we had been so
intruded upon.
I was now determined to have these people out, _coûte qu'il coûte._
"Madam," said I to the ugliest lady, "I take it for granted from your
appearance, that you are a lady of strict virtue?"
The woman stared at me!
"Consequently," I continued, "it must be painful for you to continue
with a woman so notoriously wicked as I am, and in my private box too!
just as if you were a particular friend of mine."
"Now, Hopkins! what's to be done?" said the two ladies at once.
"I am not joking," continued I, "as you will soon ascertain beyond a
doubt, since I expect the pork-merchant with whom I have promised to
pass the night every instant."
"All quite true, madam," said Churchill, quietly, "and farther, I was
her companion last night. It was her respect for you which has made
her so very anxious to have you out before she sends for the bottle of
brandy she usually takes here; because she is the most violent creature
in the world after she has got a little here," pointing to his forehead.
"Mr. Hopkins, come out!" said the ladies, and out they all bundled.
Churchill followed them some paces down the passage, on purpose to laugh
at them, and returned handing in Julia and Fanny.
Fanny could not for the life of her help laughing, and yet she was so
good, and loved me so dearly, she could not but feel hurt that I had
given myself so bad a character.
"Why make yourself out worse than you are?" she asked.
"Never mind, dear Fan, plenty of people are left to make the best of
themselves. One wants a little variety in life."
"Is that Berkeley Paget peeping out of Amy's box? Why he looks like a
schoolmaster of Athens! Oh how beautiful Lady Foley is! As to those
vacant Pagets one is tired of seeing them, they are so proud and stupid.
Now I love pride; but hate your Lady Jane Paget-stupidity."
"When do you mean to leave off talking nonsense?" said Fanny.
"As soon as ever Lady Ann Wyndham will deign to lay aside her
leopard-fur tippet, with gold tassels, thrown off her bosom to keep her
cold, and her yellow blinds: but look at Her Royal Highness the ---- of
----; I thought it was a gold fish."
"Upon my honour she is an odd fish," said Lord Glengal, who came in time
enough to hear my last remark.
Next followed Luttrell, Nugent, Lord William Russell, Clanronald,
Macdonald, Lord of the Isles, &c., and everybody inquired if I had
received any news from the Peninsula, although everybody knew that it
was as yet impossible; but then people must say something, otherwise
they appear so stupid, you know!
At this time, I remember there were at least four men who were, or
professed to be, in love with me, and I have forgotten their names; but
I may recollect them for my next book.
It is very provoking! One was a bishop's son, and he used to sigh by
the hour together. Then there was a little quiz of a lord, or rather an
earl, who had long been married to a high-bred foreigner. However that
poor little creature is so afraid of his wife, that, if he will only
behave decently, I do not mean to publish him. There was the Boring Don
also, whom some call Lord Boringdon: but I defy my worst enemy to prove
that I was ever false to Worcester while I pretended to good faith,
since it is absolutely impossible.
I passed a merry night and, as Mr. Nugent was bringing me to a hackney
coach, as carriage was out of the question on the Duke of Beaufort's
princely allowance, I observed Mr. Meyler waiting as if on purpose to
speak to me slyly, as I passed just by the Haymarket-entrance to the
theatre.
And Harriette Wilson had refused to become Marchioness of Worcester, to
be waited for in a corner by a vile sugar-baker! Oh ye gods! I wonder I
did not drop down dead on the spot. But as Lord Byron says, "There is no
spirit nowadays," so I merely flew into a passion!
Meyler's beautiful dimple as he smiled on me, did not disarm me in the
least.
"Mr. Meyler," said I, _en passant,_ "it is not necessary for you to
conceal yourself in by-corners in order to acknowledge me, and for this
very simple reason, I wish to be allowed to decline your acquaintance."
"But why?" asked Meyler, following us up.
"Merely that I consider you a dead bore," I added, as I stepped into the
hackney coach and was followed by Julia. Fanny had retired early with
Colonel Parker.
Nugent directed our coachman to Camden Town, and then wished us a good
night: but we had scarcely got clear of the throng of carriages, when
we observed a man in silk stockings running after us, bawling to the
coachman to stop.
It was Mr. Meyler, who came up to the coach-window quite out of breath,
to beg very earnestly and humbly, that we would permit him to enter
the carriage just for a few moments, while he made his apologies and
explained things.
"It is so perfectly unnecessary, Mr. Meyler, that I hope you will not
detain us any longer."
"Mrs. Johnstone," said Meyler, addressing Julia beseechingly, "pray
intercede for me. Do pray allow me to speak to you five minutes. You may
put me down again at White's in St. James's Street, if you are tired of
me."
"Oh! there can be no harm since we are two," said Julia.
And, in spite of all I could say or do to prevent her, she pulled the
check string, and Meyler seated himself by my side, declaring he was
willing to prove at the very next Opera, how desirous and how proud he
should feel to acknowledge and protect me there or anywhere else.
I told him I had merely spoken in haste, as the thing struck me at the
moment; that it was forgotten the next, and, if I had been rude, I was
ready to apologise rather than be teased any longer on a subject which
must be so uninteresting to all parties. Situated as I was with his
friend Lord Worcester, and being about to retire into Devonshire till
his lordship's return, what was the use of making acquaintances?
"Oh dear," said Julia, "what shall I do?"
"What has happened to you pray?" I inquired.
"Oh, I am ruined--I shall be ruined! The man will arrest me for his
bill. I had all the trouble in the world to get two twenty pound notes
out of Napier at the Opera to-night, for the purpose of settling his
bill with them early in the morning, and they are gone!"
Poor Julia, as she turned over her reticule for the last time, appeared
the image of despair. We had only just entered Pall Mall. Meyler, glad
to be employed rather than be turned out altogether, entreated us to
wait in the coach, while he ran back to search my box for Julia's
bank-notes.
Julia, being more in debt than she dared to acquaint her stingy lover
Napier with, and really dreading the bailiffs every hour of her life,
was miserably agitated at this accident; and, being pregnant as usual,
she was seized with violent sickness just as Meyler had left us.
"What will become of me?" said she. "I must drive off directly. I
would rather go to prison than disgust that charming young man with my
sickness."
I thought it cruel to keep her waiting since she was so very ill, and
therefore, seeing the watchman standing in his box, I offered to let her
set me down and drive off without me.
"How can you wait in this dress in the middle of the streets?" Julia
asked.
I told her I would put my shawl over my head, and present the watchman
with a shilling, desiring his protection for a few seconds, that I might
not miss Mr. Meyler with the bank-notes.
Julia grew worse, and I made the coachman drive her home without me.
In about ten minutes Meyler came running towards the spot where I stood,
and appeared to be looking eagerly about for our hackney-coach.
"Here, Mr. Meyler," said I, tapping him on the arm.
"No, no, not to-night," said Meyler, pushing me from him, without
looking at me.
"It is Harriette," said I, and he turned round in much astonishment.
"You here alone?" said Meyler, "good heavens! I beg you ten thousand
pardons."
"Julia was seized with such a violent head-ache and sickness, that it
was misery for her to remain an instant; therefore I made her drive home
without me."
Meyler was evidently delighted to find me alone in the streets, but,
having discovered that nothing was to be done with me, without a little
more ceremony than he at first considered would be necessary, he began
by expressing his regrets that no money was to found and, still more, he
lamented having just lent his carriage to Lady Castlereagh.
"How could I be so stupid," said he: "but you will allow me to set you
down in a hackney-coach?"
"Certainly not," was my reply; and, lest he should again run after me, I
declared that, since the evening was so warm and moonlight, I proposed
walking home, if he insisted on accompanying me, and we actually walked
full dressed from Pall Mall to Camden Town; during which said long walk
Meyler endeavoured to make himself as amiable as possible, and took his
leave at my door, without teasing me for anything except permission to
call on me some morning.
He was so very pressing, that I was at last foolish enough to say he
might pay me a visit at Julia's on the following Thursday, and he left
me quite satisfied and delighted, with having obtained so much more
than he had expected from my manner of receiving his advances at the
beginning of the evening.
* * * * *
I omitted to acquaint my readers that, just before the departure of Lord
Worcester, Her Grace of Beaufort took it into her head to break the
seals of my letters. It was very odd that so immaculate a lady could
venture to cast her chaste eyes on the private letters of Harriette
Wilson--the vile, profligate Harriette Wilson--addressed to her lover!
Moreover, it was surely dishonourable and dishonest: at least, it would
have been called so if I had done it; and then the duchess declared to
her son that my last letter was such an indecent one she could not read
it, and she proceeded to reason on the immorality of a paragraph at the
very bottom of my paper; which proves true the old saying--liars must
have good memories.
_N'importe!_
I called on Julia the next morning, to acquaint her that I had taken the
liberty of inviting Meyler to her house, because I knew it would make
Lord Worcester miserable if I were to receive him in my own.
"I like your making apologies," said Julia, "when you know how very much
I admire the lovely creature Meyler. Apropos," continued Julia, "my
two banknotes were in my bosom all the while, and I want very much to
apologise to that dear, little, blooming, arch-looking man, for all the
trouble I have given him."
I could not but fancy Julia was not so much my friend as she ought to
have been, considering how anxious I had always shown myself for her
welfare, in thus encouraging Meyler; and I went home more than usually
interested about Lord Worcester; because Julia tried to make me neglect
him.
In this humour, I sent off a few lines to Mr. Meyler, begging to be
excused from my promise of meeting him at Mrs. Johnstone's. "All this is
infinitely amiable of me," I reflected with much self-complacency, for
I was very dull by myself, and Meyler, as to externals, was much to my
taste.
Julia informed me in the evening that Meyler had sat with her for more
than two hours, hoping to see me, and had gone away much disappointed.
The next day, I received a letter from him begging permission to call on
me; and, as I sent no answer, he took the liberty of coming to my house
without permission, and I had some difficulty, and so had my servant, in
getting him out of it, and which was not till he had made every possible
effort to see me, for he went upstairs and tried to open the door of my
sitting-room, which I had locked.
The moment he was fairly out of the house I addressed the following note
to him.
"Miss Wilson presents her compliments to Mr. Meyler, is under
the necessity of informing him that she requires a little more
respect than he seems disposed to show towards her. Mr. Meyler
might have taken it for granted that, if she had been at home this
morning and disposed to receive his visits, she should not have
been denied to him.
"CAMDEN TOWN."
On Saturday, I could not well turn Meyler out of a box in which Julia
had a share, without her consent, and I was teased and talked into
allowing him to set us down; but nothing could induce me to admit him
into my house nor to remain alone with him an instant anywhere.
I had promised to send Worcester a journal of everything I did; and
it really is so little in my nature, that it is scarcely in my power
to be artful; and so, as I would not walk about Camden Town to enjoy
a _tête-à-tête_ by moonlight, Julia was pressed into the service, and
we all three wandered about the fields, and Meyler sighed and talked
downright sentimentally, about leading a chaste life for my sake and
sending away all these women! At this of course we both laughed; but
Meyler continued in the same humour for two months longer. I never
received a single visit from him at my own house, and insisted over and
over again that he should not be admitted into my Opera-box: but Meyler
had so many little winning ways really they were overpowering to a poor
weak woman! He would tap at the door of my box, and Julia would open it,
and assure him that I should quarrel with them both if she admitted him:
and Meyler, instead of looking cross, would sigh, and point to a rose in
his bosom, and desire Julia to tell me that it was the rose I gave him
a week before, and he had preserved it with the greatest care. Then he
would go downstairs, and then his legs were so beautiful, and his skin
so clear and transparent, and Meyler was sentimental for the first time
in his life!
Really all these things and thirty thousand a year besides were enough
to melt a heart of stone: and, as we were going out of the Opera, we
were sure to see Meyler's bright smile as he stood watching for us.
Then, if there was the least difficulty about coaches, &c., he would
come up and say mildly, that his carriage was at the door and, if we
would use it, he would not enter it but go home in a friend's. In
short, Meyler was so very humble, persevering, and indefatigable, that
he contrived to see and converse with me every day of my life in spite
of all I could do to prevent him, although I never once admitted him
to my house, or to a _tête-à-tête_, and I wrote Worcester a full and
most exact account of all my proceedings. I even went so far as to tell
him, I really was afraid Meyler's attention might create a very strong
fancy, notwithstanding I certainly had not esteem for him. To prevent
the possibility of this I proposed retiring into some quiet village in
Devonshire.
This my readers, I mean my young and handsome readers, will admit was a
sort of thing easier said than done. London was so very gay! Meyler so
very attentive! _Tout le monde_ seemed so very much to admire my person,
and delight in my conversation; and I was about to leave all this for a
dull village, where I was to pass one of the most brilliant years of my
life in perfect solitude.
"I will make any settlement on you you may please to ask of me," said
Meyler, "if you will but leave Worcester and live with me."
"You have told me this at least fifty times already," I replied, "and
you really may spare yourself any further useless trouble. I must follow
the dictates of my heart whatever may become of me. There will be a
consolation in a clear conscience, and, in leaving Worcester, I should
feel that I deserved the worst that could happen to me, and both your
lives might be lost in a duel: or, if Worcester was killed abroad,
having first cursed me for my conduct, I should never get over it: else,
you know I am full half in love with you, and Worcester knows well I was
never one bit in love with him."
"Then if you do love me," said Meyler, "I will hold myself disengaged,
and wait for my chance of you during the whole of that year you have
promised to wait for Worcester's return."
I laughed at Meyler's promises, assuring him I had not the least faith
in them.
Worcester was eternally writing to me, and nothing could be more
romantically tender than his letters. No power on earth could tempt him,
or should ever induce him, while he breathed, to even bestow a single
kiss on any woman's lips but mine, &c.; then followed very excellent
descriptions of battles, with a long account of Parker, for Fanny.
These very kind letters at length determined me to leave London.
The last evening I passed in town was truly a dull one to me. "No
doubt," thought I, "this gay young volatile creature, surrounded as he
is by temptation, will forget me in less than a month! I am unprovided
for, and am leaving every friend on earth, to wander about for a lone
lodging in a dismal village. It cannot be helped! Worcester's mind must
be set at rest; because there was nothing he was not ready to do for me."
"Where is there a village?" said I to Luttrell, who informed me that
there was a village called Charmouth, within thirty miles of Exeter,
which, as he once passed through it, had struck him as particularly
picturesque.
"That will do," said I, sick of the dry, dull subject; and I took a
place for myself and my _femme de chambre_ in the Exeter mail without
further delay.
Meyler was half cooled, as soon as I was quite determined to leave
London; but still he was very melancholy.
"Might he write to me?" he inquired.
"Yes," said I, "but your letters will be shown to Worcester, mind; so
you must confine yourself to mere friendship. If, however, circumstances
force me to leave his lordship and you are good enough to remember me
with kindness, I will gladly come to you."
"In a year, then," said Meyler, "if Worcester does not return?"
"All that must depend on circumstances," I replied.
Meyler shed one tear at parting--_c'était beaucoup pour lui,_ and he
gave me a gold toothpick case, with some of his hair in it; so, having
taken leave of Fanny and Julia, fancy me and my maid in the Exeter mail
on our road to Charmouth: and, in about one fortnight after my arrival
in this village, my reader may imagine me sitting at a little, rural,
thatched window, in that beautiful country, addressing the following
long letter to my sister Fanny:
"Charmouth, Devonshire
"MY DEAREST SISTER,--I really am afraid you will accuse me of
want of affection towards you, in having suffered a whole fortnight
to elapse without acquainting you of my arrival in this part of the
world. The fact is my constitution is really good for nothing, and
I have only just recovered the fatigues of two successive nights
passed in the mail-coach. I could have scribbled a few lines it is
true; but then I thought it would be so cockney-like, to put you to
the expense of heavy postage, merely to state our safe arrival; and
I waited till I could give you some little account of myself.
"To begin then, we got here at about six in the evening,
without anything in the least romantic having occurred to us; for
we were neither upset nor thrown into a pond, just as a lovely
youth happened to be passing by.
"One of these incidents ought really to have occurred;
_mais enfin que voulez-vous?_ It was a beautiful May evening
when the mail-coach set us down at a little country-looking
sort of pot-house in this village. I was wretchedly oppressed by
melancholy and fatigue. I inquired for beds, and was informed by
very good luck that my landlady's only bed-room, containing two
small, neat, white beds, was at our disposal. The stair-case was
a ladder, or rather a ladder was the stair-case. We will not be
particular. I was soon in bed, and my maid contrived to procure
me a cup of tea, which is all I remember happening to me till
about eight the next morning, when the broad sun, shining in my
face for want of window-curtains, induced me to rise. As for my
maid, she was already dressed and busy with my trunks, searching
out my clean linen. I am sorry, really, for the most noble the
Marquis of Worcester, but the fact is, my very first thoughts on
awaking, and my most sincere regrets, were for the miles which now
separated me from poor, little, beautiful Meyler. In short, having
done everything right towards Worcester, I loved him much less
for that very reason. My maid, as you know, is really superior to
the generality of _femmes de chambre,_ and as I have had reason
to believe is really attached to me: still, I fancy, she must
have left somebody yet dearer to her in London, from her extreme
melancholy. However, my own spirits were this morning so deeply
oppressed, that I liked her the better for being of my humour.
"As soon as I was dressed, my good-natured landlady begged I
would come down to breakfast, while it was hot. She gave us most
excellent Devonshire cream and hot Devonshire cakes. In short,
everything was so clean and delicious in its way, that it was
difficult not to be hungry.
"After our breakfast we inquired for a guide, to show us some
of the beauties of that part of the country.
"'My little boy will take you over to Lyme Regis. He is
particularly cute, and can tell you more than I can,' said the good
landlady.
"'What distance is Lyme Regis from this village?' I inquired.
"'Oh laws! only about two miles, and the most beautifullest
walk in the world.'
"Behold us then, on our road to Lyme Regis, with a little
cute Devonshire lad for our guide. I cannot describe the scenery
like Mrs. Radcliffe, I wish I could; but alas! I have not an idea
of the kind, and yet I can feel and enjoy it. Devonshire you know
is a very hilly country, and the air is almost as pure as that in
Italy. After following our guide for about a quarter of a mile,
along a close, narrow lane, entirely shaded from the sun, we turned
a sudden angle, when such a magnificent view of the ocean presented
itself, as absolutely fixed us to the spot for nearly ten minutes.
I wish I could describe it, for nothing in the shape of scenery
ever made such an impression on me as that we enjoyed in our walk
from the village of Charmouth to the pretty little watering-place
called Lyme Regis. It was about twelve o'clock when we arrived
there.
"Lyme Regis is a sort of Brighton in miniature, all bustle
and confusion, assembly-rooms, donkey-riding, raffling, &c. &c. It
was sixpence per night to attend the assemblies, and much cheaper
if paid by the season. We went to a little inn and dined. From the
window, I was much amused to see the number of smart old maids
that were tripping down the streets, in turbans or artificial
flowers twined around their wigs, on the light fantastic toe, to
the sixpenny assembly-rooms at five in the evening! They were very
pleasantly situated near the sea, and as we walked past their
windows we saw them all drinking tea and playing cards. There were
amongst them persons of the highest rank; but the society was
chiefly composed of people of very small independent fortunes,
who for economy had settled at Lyme Regis; or of such as required
sea-bathing; natives, either of Exeter or any neighbouring town.
There were plenty of furnished lodgings to be let at Lyme Regis;
but I determined if possible to establish myself at Charmouth, that
place being so much more to my taste.
"'It will be impossible, madam,' said the landlady where we
dined, 'since Charmouth is a very genteel village, inhabited by
persons of small fortunes, who would not condescend to let lodgings
or take in boarders. There are not perhaps three dozen houses in
the whole village, and certainly not one lodging-house. All are
independent and proud, except the owners of a few huts round about
that neighbourhood, to whom the gentry of Charmouth are very kind
and charitable.'
"'Well then, I must return, much against my will, to establish
myself here,' said I. This idea increased my melancholy, for I
hate, and always did hate, anything like London in miniature. Give
me town or country _en grand!_ Solitude or the best society; but I
abhor little sixpenny assembly-places.
"At eight o'clock in the evening we arrived at our humble inn
at Charmouth in a donkey-cart, and immediately retired to rest. At
six the next morning, since the broad daylight would not suffer
me to sleep, I determined to walk all about the village in search
of lodgings, before I could be induced to give up the hopes of
securing a residence there. We found no difficulty in procuring
the same excellent breakfast, which was served up with perfect
neatness by half-past six, and at a little after seven the gay and
fashionable Harriette Wilson was to be seen strolling about the
little village of Charmouth as though it had been her native place,
and she had never heard tell of the pomps and vanities of this very
wicked world.
"We carefully examined every house we passed for a bill
indicative of lodgings to let; but in vain. They all appeared to be
inhabited by some respectable individual, neither rich nor poor. We
had walked twice through the village and round about it, and were
bending our steps towards our little pot-house in mute despair,
when my attention was arrested by the striking loveliness of a
young lady who was watering some flowers at one of the windows of a
house I had before admired for its peculiar neatness. She smiled
so very graciously that I was encouraged in my wish to address her.
The moment she saw me make towards the little street-door, she ran
and opened it herself. After many apologies, I entreated to be
informed if I was likely to succeed in obtaining board and lodging
with any private family at Charmouth. The young lady entreated me
to walk into the parlour and sit down. We chatted together for
about a quarter of an hour, like people who had taken a liking to
each other, and then she left me to speak to her mother on the
subject of procuring me a comfortable residence. In a short time
she returned, and presented me to two very respectable-looking
women in deep mourning, as her mother and aunt. After a little
more conversation, Mrs. Edmond, which was the name of the young
lady's mother, spoke to me to this effect: 'I am the widow of an
officer in the navy, whose death, when abroad, I learned ten years
ago from a brother-officer who had been present, and came here to
convey his last requests to his family; since that moment, having
for ever renounced the world, I live only in my child, and have
nothing to do on earth but to attend to and promote her happiness.
She feels greatly disposed to benefit by your pleasant society, and
has made it her anxious request that I will offer you an asylum in
my house: therefore, if you like to inhabit a snug room which faces
the country, it is at your service, and you may keep it entirely
for your own use. I have also a servant's room for your maid, and,
if you can accustom yourself to our family dinner, the thing is
arranged at once.'
"I could scarcely conceal my surprise at finding such good,
innocent, confiding people, ready thus to take a stranger in
without making a single inquiry. However, as I determined to act
with the strictest propriety, and conform to the established rules
of the family, to be regular at church too for the sake of example,
I conceived that it was certainly not incumbent on me to turn
king's evidence against myself as to my former irregularities, or,
as my friend Miss Higgins would say, little peccadillos. I pressed
them to name terms for me and my maid at once, and the price they
asked for being troubled with us both was so ridiculously moderate
that I insisted on doubling it, and refused to hear another word on
the subject. These good people would not even allow me to return to
the little inn, but despatched a man, with my _femme de chambre_,
to pay my bill and bring my trunks to me.
"Every thing, which the warmest affection or the oldest
friendship could have dictated, was put in practice for our comfort
and accommodation. I had a nice bedroom, adjoining the snug little
sitting-room where I am now writing, and Mrs. Edmond, who has long
studied the qualities of medicine, in order to render herself
useful to the poor people about the village, insisted on doctoring
me, declaring that I was feverish. One of the ladies rubbed my
feet, another administered white wine-whey, and another--but I have
swelled my letter to such an enormous length, that I must defer
saying any more about these good people till my next. I am very
anxious to hear from you, and I confess I should like to know if
Meyler has entirely forgotten me.
"What vain creatures we are! I expected to have received at
least half a dozen letters from that young gentleman ere this.
Alas! not a single line! Do pray, dear Fanny, let me soon be
consoled in this extreme case, by an account of his having hanged
or shot himself! I must enclose this to the Marquis of Hertford,
not to ruin you. Pray write soon to a poor melancholy recluse, and
believe me ever,
"Your most affectionate sister,
"H.W.
"P.S.--How do Amy and her schoolmaster of Athens go on?"