that if all persons thought as justly, as I flatter myself I do, of the inconveniencies, as well as conveniencies, which attend their being raised to a condition above them, they would not imagine all the world was their own, when they came to be distinguished as I have been: For, what with the contempts of superior relations on one side, (which all such must undergo at first,) the envy of the world, and low reflections arising from that envy, on the other, from which no one must hope to be totally exempted; and the awkwardness, besides, with which they support their elevated condition, if they have sense to judge of their own imperfections; and if the gentleman be not such an one as mine-(and where will such another be found?)-On all these accounts, I say, they will be made sensible, that, whatever they might once think, happiness and an high estate are two very different things.

But I shall be too grave, when your ladyship and all my kind and noble friends, expect, perhaps, I should give the uncommon subject a pleasanter air: Yet what must that mind be, that is not serious, when it is obliged to recollect, and give account of its defects?

But I must not only accuse myself, it seems, I must give proofs, such as your ladyship can subscribe to, of my imperfections. There is so much real kindness in this seeming hardship, that I will obey you, madam, and produce proofs in a moment, which cannot be controverted.

As to my sauciness, those papers will give an hundred instances against me--as well to your dear brother, as to others.-Indeed, to extenuate, as you command me, as I go along, these were mostly when I was apprehensive for my honour; that they were.

*

And then, my dear lady, I have a little tincture of jealousy, which sometimes has made me more uneasy than I ought to be, as the papers you have not seen would have demonstrated, particularly in Miss Godfrey's case, and in my conversation with your ladyships, in which I have frequently betrayed my apprehensions of what might happen when we came to London: yet, to extenuate again, I have examined myself very strictly on this head; and I really think, that I can ascribe a great part of this jealousy to laudable motives; no less than to the concern I have for your dear brother's future happiness, in the hope, that I may be a humble means in the hands of Providence, to induce him to abhor those crimes of which young gentlemen too often are guilty, and to bring him over to the practice of those virtues, in which he will for ever have cause to rejoice. -Yet, my lady, some other parts of the charge must stand against me; for, as, to be sure, I

love his person as well as his mind, I have pride in my jealousy, that would not permit me, I verily think, to support myself as I ought, under the trial of a competition, in this tender, very tender point.

And this obliges me to own, that I have a little spark-not a little one, perhaps of secret pride and vanity, that will arise now and then, on the honours done me; but which I keep under as much as I can: And to this pride, let me tell your ladyship, I know no one contributes, or can contribute, more largely than yourself.

So you see, my dear lady, what a naughty heart I have, and how far I am from being a faultless creature-I hope I shall be better and better, however, as I live longer, and have more grace, and more wit: For here, to recapitulate my faults, is, in the first place, vindictiveness; I will not call it downright revenge; that I will not-For, as the poet says,

Revenge is but a frailty, incident

To crazed and sickly minds; the poor content
Of little souls, unable to surmount
An injury, too weak to bear affront.

And I would not be thought to have a little mind, because I know I would not do a little thing. Vindictiveness, then, let it stand, though that's a harsh word to accuse one's self ofjealousy-secret pride-vanity-which I cannot, for my life, totally keep under-0, dear madam! are not here faults enow, without naming any more?-And, how much room do all these leave for amendment, and greater perfection !

Had your ladyship, and my lady Countess, favoured us longer, in your late kind visit, it had been impossible but I must have so improved, by your charming conversations, and by that natural ease and dignity which accompany every thing your ladyships do and say, as to have got over such of these foibles as are not rooted in nature: till in time I had been able to do more than emulate those perfections, which, at present, I can only at an awful distance revere; as becomes,

My dear ladies,
Your most humble admirer,
and obliged servant,
P. B-

LETTER LII.

MISS DARNFORD TO HER FATHER AND MOTHER.

MY EVER-HONOURED PAPA AND MAMMA, I ARRIVED safely in London on Thursday,

after a tolerable journey, considering Deb and I made six in the coach, (two having been taken up on the way, after you left me,) and none of the six highly agreeable. Mr Band his lady, who looks very stately upon us, (from the circumstance of person, rather than of mind, however,) were so good as to meet me at St Alban's, in their coach and six. They have a fine house here, richly furnished in every part, and have allotted me the best apart

ment in it.

We are happy beyond expression! Mr Bis a charming husband; so easy, so pleased with, and so tender of, his lady; and she so much all that we saw her in the country, as to humility and affability, and improved in every thing else, which we hardly thought possible she could be-that I never knew so happy a matrimony. All that prerogative sauciness, which we apprehended would so eminently display itself in his behaviour to his wife, had she been ever so distinguished by birth and fortune, is vanished, and no traces of it seem to be left. I did not think it was in the power of an angel, if our sex could have produced one, to have made so tender and so fond a husband of Mr B- as he makes. And should I have the sense to follow Mrs B's example, if ever I marry, I should not despair of making myself happy, let it be to whom it would, provided he was not a brute, nor sordid in his temper; which two characters are too obvious to be concealed, if persons take due care, and make proper in quiries, and if they are not led by blind passion. May Mr Murray and Miss Nancy make just such a happy pair!

You commanded me, my honoured mamma, to write to you an account of every thing that pleased me I said, I would: But what a task should I then have !-I did not think I had undertaken to write volumes.-You must therefore allow me to be more brief than I had intended.

In the first place, it would take up five or six long letters to do justice to the economy observed in this happy family. You know that Mrs B- has not changed one of the servants of the family, and only added her Polly to the number. This is an unexampled thing, especially as they were all her fellow servants, as we may say: But since they have the sense to admire so good an example, and are proud to follow it, each to his and her power, I think it one of her peculiar felicities to have continued them, and to choose to reform such as were exceptionable rather than dismiss them.

Their mouths, Deb tells me, are continually full of their lady's praises, and prayers, and blessings, uttered with such delight and feryour, for the happy pair, that it makes her eyes, she says, ready to run over to hear them. Moreover, I think it an extraordinary picce of policy (whether designed or not) to keep

them, as they were honest and worthy folks; for, had she turned them all off, what had she done but made as many enemies as she had discarded servants, and as many more as those had friends and acquaintance? And we all know how much the reputation of families lies at the mercy of servants; and 'tis easy to guess w what cause each would have imputed his or her dismission. And so she has escaped, as she ought to escape, the censure of pride; and has made every one, instead of reproaching her with her descent, find those graces in her, which turn that very disadvantage to her glory.

She is exceeding affable to every one of them; always speaks to them with a smile; but yet has such a dignity in her manner, that it secures her their respect and reverence; and they are ready to fly at a look, and seem proud to have any commands of her to execute: insomuch, that the words, My lady commands so or so, from one servant to another, are sure to meet with an indisputable obedience, be the duty required what it will.

If any of them are the least indisposed, her care and tenderness for them engage the veneration and gratitude of all the rest, who see in that instance how kindly they will be treated, should they ail any thing themselves. And in all this I must needs say, she is very happy in Mrs Jervis, who is an excellent second to her admirable lady; and is treated by her with as much respect and affection, as if she were her mother.

You may remember, madam, that in the account she gave us of her benevolent round, as Lady Davers calls it, she says, that, as she was going to London, she should leave directions with Mrs Jervis about some of her clients, as I find she calls her poor, to avoid a word, which her delicacy accounts harsh with regard to them, and ostentatious with respect to herself. I asked her, how (since, contrary to her then expectation, Mrs Jervis was permitted to be in town with her) she had provided to answer her intention as to those her clients, whom she had referred to the care of that good woman?

She said, that Mr Barlow, her apothecary, was a very worthy man, and she had given him a plenary power in that particular, and likewise desired him to recommend any new and worthy case to her, that no deserving person among the destitute sick poor might be unrelieved by reason of her absence.

And here in London she has applied herself to Dr (her parish-minister, a fine preacher, and sound divine, who promises on all opportunities to pay his respects to Mrs B-) to recommend to her any poor housekeepers, who would be glad to accept of some private benefactions, and yet, having lived creditably, till reduced by misfortunes, are ashamed to apply for public relief; and she has several of these already on her benevolent list, to some of whom

she sends coals now at the entrance on the wintry season, to some a piece of Irish or Scotch linen, or so many yards of Norwich stuff, for gowns and coats for the girls, or Yorkshire cloth for the boys; and money to some, of whose prudence she is most assured in laying it out thway they best can judge of. And she has moreover mortified, as the Scots call it, one hundred and fifty pounds, as a fund for loans, without interest, of five, ten, or fifteen, but not exceeding twenty pounds, to answer some present exigence in some honest families, who find the best security they can, to repay it in a given time; and this fund she purposes, as she grows richer, she says, to increase; and prides herself every now and then, for having saved so much money already; and estimates pleasantly her worth by this sum, saying sometimes, Who would ever have thought I should have been worth one hundred and fifty pounds so soon? I shall be a rich body in time. But in all these things she enjoins secrecy, which the doctor has promised.

She told the doctor what Mr Adam's office is in her family; and hoped, she said, he would give her his sanction to it; assuring him, that she thought it her duty to ask it, as she was one of his flock, and he, on that account, her principal shepherd, which made a spiritual relation between them, the requisites of which, on her part, were not to be dispensed with. You may be sure the good gentleman very cheerfully and applaudingly gave her his consent; and when she told him how well Mr Adams was provided for, and that she should apply to him to supply her with a town-chaplain, when she was deprived of him, he wished that the other duties of his function (for he has a large parish) would permit him to be the happy person himself; saying, that till she was supplied to her mind, either he or his curate would take care that so laudable a method should be kept up.

You will do me the justice, madam, to believe, that I very cheerfully join in my dear friend's Sunday duties; and I am not a little edified with the good example, and with the harmony and good-will that this excellent method contributes to keep up in the family.

I must own I never saw such a family of love in my life: For here, under the eye of the best and most respected of mistresses, they twice every Sunday see one another all together, (as they used to do in the country,) superior as well as inferior servants; and Deb tells me, after Mrs B and I are withdrawn, there are such friendly salutations among them, that she never heard the like-Your servant, good Master Longman; your servant, Master Colbrand, cries one and another: How do you, John? I'm glad to see you, Abraham !—All blessedly met once

more! cries Jonathan, the venerable butler, with his silver hairs, as Mrs B- always distinguishes him: Good madam Jervis, cries another, you look purely this blessed day, thank GOD! -And they return to their several vocations, so light, so easy, so pleased, so even-tempered in their minds, as their cheerful countenances, as well as expressions, testify, that it is a heaven of a house: And being wound up thus constantly once a-week, at least, like a good eight-day clock, no piece of machinery that ever was made is so regular and uniform as this family is.

What an example does this dear lady set to all who see her, to all who know her, and to all who hear of her! and how happy are they who have the grace to follow it!-What a public blessing would such a mind as hers be, could it be vested with the robes of royalty, and adorn the sovereign dignity! But what are the princes of the earth, look at them, in every nation, and what have they been for ages past, compared to this lady! who acts from the impulses of her own heart, unaided, in most cases, by any human example. In short, when I contemplate her innumerable excellencies, and that sweetness of temper, and universal benevolence, which shine in every thing she says and does, I cannot sometimes help looking upon her in the light of an angel, dropped down from heaven, and received into bodily organs, to live among men and women, in order to shew what the first of the species was designed to be.

*that

This reminds me of what my honoured papa said once at our own house to Mr Bthere was but one such angel descended from heaven in a thousand years, and he had her.

And yet, here is the admiration, that one sees all these duties performed in such an easy and pleasant manner, as any body may perform them; for they interfere not with any parts of the family management; take up no time from the necessary employments; but rather aid and inspirit every one in the discharge of all their domestic services; and, moreover, keep their minds in a state of preparation for the more solemn duties of the day; and all without the least intermixture of affectation, enthusiasm, or ostentation. O my dear papa and mamma, permit me but to tarry here till I am perfect in all these good lessons, and how happy shall I be!

to

I am mindful, my dear mamma, of yours and our good neighbours' requests to Mrs Boblige you with the conversations she mentioned; the one with the young ladies related to Lady Towers and Mrs Arthur; the other with Mr B- -, on her father and mother; a subject, which always, however humble, raises her pen, and of consequence our expectations; and I will prevail upon her to let me transcribe them

for your entertainment. She writes down every thing that passes, which she thinks may one day be of use to Miss Goodwin, and to her own children, if she shall live to have any, and to see them grown up. What a charming mamma, as well as wife and mistress, will this dear lady make!

As to the town, and the diversions of it, I shall not trouble you with any accounts of them, because you know the one, and from the time we passed here last winter, as well as your former thorough knowledge of both, you will want no information about the other; for, generally speaking, all who reside constantly in London allow, that there is little other difference in the diversions of one winter and another, than such as are in clothes; a few variations of the fashions only, which are mostly owing to ingenious contrivances of persons who are to get their bread by diversifying them.

Mrs B- has undertaken to give Lady Davers an account of matters as they pass, and her sentiments on what she sees. There must be something new in her observations, because she is a stranger to these diversions, and unbiassed entirely by favour or prejudice; and so will not play the partial critic, but give to a beauty its due praise, and to a fault its due censure, according to that truth and nature which are the unerring guides of her actions as well as sentiments. These I will procure for you, as she gives me leave to transcribe what she writes; and you'll be so good as to return them when perused, because I will lend them, as I used to do her letters, to her good parents; and so I shall give her a pleasure at the same time, in the accommodating them with the knowledge of all that passes, which she makes it a point of duty to do, because they take delight in her writings. My papa's observation, that a woman never takes a journey that she don't forget something, is justified by me; for, with all my care, I have forgot my diamond buckle, which Miss Nancy will find in the inner till of my bureau, wrapt up in cotton; and I beg it may be sent me by the first opportunity. With my humble duty to you both, my dear indulgent papa and mamma, thanks for the favour I now rejoice in, and affectionate respects to Miss Nancy, (I wish she would love me as well as I love her,) and service to Mr Murray, and all our good neighbours, conclude me

Your dutiful and highly-favoured daughter,
M. DARNFORD.

Mr B and Mrs B desire their compliments of congratulation to Mr and Mrs Peters, on the marriage of their worthy niece, which they knew nothing of till I told them of it; also to your honoured selves they desire their kind respects and thanks for the loan of your worthless daughter. I experience every hour some new token of their po

liteness and affection; and I make no scruple to think I am with just such a brother, and such a sister, as any happy creature may rejoice in, and be proud of.-Mr B-, I cannot but repeat, is a charming husband, and a most polite gentleman. His lady is always accusing herself to me of awkwardness and insufficiency; but not a soul who sees her can find it out; she is all genteel ease, and the admiration of every one who beholds her.Only I tell her, with such happiness in possession, she is a little of the gravest sometimes.

[The letter which contains the account of the conversation, requested by Miss Darnford, Letter XL. p. 359, and mentioned by miss in the preceding letter, will be found in the last letter but one. For Miss Darnford having mislaid the first copy of it, requested another, two or three years after this, when married herself, for the sake of two young ladies in her neighbourhood, whose inconsiderate rashness had given great affliction to their parents. And Mrs B- with a view to their particular case, having made divers additions and improvements to it, it will come in more properly, as we conceive, in the course of these letters, at or near the time when those improvements were made to it.]

You command me to acquaint you with the proceedings between Mr Murray and Miss Nanny Darnford; and Miss Polly makes it very easy for me to obey you in this particular, and in very few words; for she says every thing was adjusted before she came away, and the ceremony, she believes, may be performed by this time. She rejoices that she was out of the way of it; for she says, love is so awkward a thing to Mr Murray, and good humour so uncommon an one to Miss Nancy, that she hopes she shall never see such another courtship.

Mr B- teazes Miss Darnford, that she is a little piqued, (and that she shewed it by a satirical fling or two in a former letter to me,) that her humble servant took her at her word; and yet he acknowledges that he believes she despises him; and indeed Mr Murray has shewn that he deserves to be despised by her.

She says nothing has piqued her in the whole affair, but the triumph it gave to that ill-natured girl, as she justly calls her sister, who has insulted her unmercifully on that account; and yet with so low and mean a spite, that she has been vexed at herself to shew the least concern

on the occasion. But ungenerous teazing is an intolerable thing, as she says, and, often repeated, will vex a mind naturally above it. Had it, says she, come from any body else, I should not have heeded it; but how can one despise a sister?

We have been at the playhouse several times; and give me leave to say, madam, (for I have now read as well as seen several,) that I think the stage, by proper regulations, might be made a profitable amusement. But nothing more convinces one of the truth of the common observation, that the best things, corrupted, prove the worst, than these representations. The terror and compunction for evil deeds, the compassion for a just distress, and the general beneficence which those lively exhibitions are so capable of raising in the human mind, might be of great service, when directed to right ends, and induced by proper motives; particularly where the actions which the catastrophe is designed to punish are not set in such advantageous lights, as shall destroy the end of the moral, and make the vice that ought to be censured, imitable; where instruction is kept in view all the way, and where vice is punished, and virtue rewarded. But give me leave to say, that I think there is hardly one play I have seen or read hitherto, but has too much of love in it, as that passion is generally treated. How unnatural in some, how inflaming in others, are the descriptions of it! In most, rather rant and fury, like the loves of the fiercer brute animals, as Virgil, translated by Dryden, describes them, than the soft, sighing, fearfully hopeful murmurs, that swell the bosoms of our gentler sex; and the respectful, timorous, submissive complainings of the other, when the truth of the passion humanizes, as one may say, their more rugged hearts.

In particular, what strange indelicates do these writers of tragedy often make of our sex; They don't enter into the passion at all, if Í have any notion of it; but when the authors want to paint it strongly, (at least in those plays I have seen and read,) their aim seems to be to raise a whirlwind, as I may say, which sweeps down reason, religion, and decency; and carries every laudable duty away before it; so that all the example can serve to shew, is, how a disappointed lover may rage and storm, resent and

revenge.

The play I first saw was the tragedy of The Distressed Mother, and a great many beautiful things I think there are in it; but half of it is a tempestuous, cruel, ungoverned rant of passion, and ends in cruelty, bloodshed, and desolation, which the truth of story not warranting, as Mr B tells me, makes it the more pity, that the original author (for it is a French play translated, you know, madam,) had not conducted it, since it was in his choice, with less terror, and with greater propriety, to the pas

VOL. VI.

sions intended to be raised, and actually raised in many places.

I need not tell your ladyship what the story is; and yet it is necessary, as you demand my opinion, that I should give a little sketch of it. It is this, then: "Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, is betrothed to Hermione, the daughter of Menelaus; but Hector's widow, Andromache, with Astyanax, her son by Hector, in the division of the Trojan captives, falls to the lot of Pyrrhus, who slighting Hermione, (actually sent to his court, and in his court, waiting his good pleasure to espouse her,) falls in love with Andromache. Orestes, the son of Agamemnon, in love with Hermione, is sent ambassador from the other Greek princes, to demand the life of Astyanax, for fear the poor infant should become another Hector, and avenge his father's death; a most improbable, unprincely, and base-hearted fear; as Pyrrhus himself represents it. Pyrrhus, in hopes to gain the mother's love, which he seeks on honourable terms, offers to break with all his allies, rather than give up the child; but finding her resolved on widowhood, determines to sacrifice the child, and to marry Hermione. This creates a fine distress in Andromache, between a laudable purpose to continue the widow of so great and so deserving a prince, and her desire to preserve the life of her son by that beloved hero; and at last, overcome by maternal tenderness, finding no other way, she resolves to marry Pyrrhus, and yet to destroy herself after the marriage ceremony had entitled her son to her new husband's protection; (a very strange, and not very certain expedient to answer her view!) and so to die the widow of Hector, though she gave her hand to Pyrrhus, and vowed herself his at the altar, and of consequence had a still less power over her own life than before.Hermione, a high-spirited lady, raging in her love to Pyrrhus, and for the slight and disappointment she met with, obliges Orestes, on promise of giving her heart and hand to him, to murder Pyrrhus at the altar, while the ceremony of marriage with Andromache is performing. He causes this to be done. When done, he applies to Hermione, expecting her applause, who then violently upbraids him for having obeyed her; and flying towards the temple, meets the body of Pyrrhus, and stabs herself

upon it.

"Upon this, Orestes runs mad, and it is said to be the finest mad scene in any English play. -Andromache remains queen; her sou lives; and being diverted from her own bloody purpose, she has nothing to do but to give orders for the funeral of Pyrrhus, and to bring her son in triumph from a prison to a palace.

This is, in brief, the story. Now, madam, since you expect it from me, I will tell you, in my artless way, what I think not quite so pretty, and what is great and beautiful in this play;

2 B