 Letter 40. Miss Cleveland to Lady Barton. Indeed, my Louisa, your two last letters have afflicted me beyond measure. My heart bleeds for your sufferings, yet reason and virtue both forbid my endeavoring to soothe your grief or stop your flowing tears unless I could remove the cause from whence they spring, that alas can only be hoped for from the lenient hand of time and your own fortitude. I know how very difficult it is to enter so far into another person's situation as is necessary to judge their actions with candor. We must first feel and think as they do before it can become possible. I have therefore endeavored, by a thorough recollection of your temperance sentiments, joined the similarity of our natures, to put myself, as it were, in your place, in order to be able with justice and precision to give my opinion freely, both with regard to your past and future conduct. I will now venture to tell you that the source of your present unhappiness is to be traced much higher than the era you dated from, your marriage with Sir William Barton. Though I admit your own confession, that your first fault was committed then, it must be the joining of hearts, not hands, that can ensure the marriage, writes—I don't misspell the word—and the woman who stretches out an empty hand at the altar but mocks the institution. And if I may hazard the boldness of the expression, becomes guilty before her crime, receives an antipast of misery, and puts her trust in miracles for safety. But the partiality of our ever-dear and respected parents sowed the first seeds of vanity in my Louisa's mind. They live not long enough to be alarmed at its growth and to eradicate the poisonous weed. By their death you became your own mistress at an age when self-applause is predominant in every female breast. Young, beautiful, rich and accomplished, how was it possible you should escape the snares of flattery? They twined about your heart, and I have great reason now to believe, and lament, that the envied preference you gave to Sir William Barton by becoming his wife was owing more to his having persevered longer than the rest of your admirers in his attentions and attendance on you, than to that just selection which should be the reward of distinguished merit and in which both love and esteem should happily unite. At the time of your marriage I had made but very slight observations on the matrimonial state, and therefore did not doubt that though you declared yourself insensible of any passion for Sir William, you might be perfectly happy with him all the days of your life. I am now convinced of the fallacy of this opinion, as well as of the imprudence of the declaration you then too openly and unguardedly made. Believe me, Louisa, that this was the first thing that soured your husband's temper. Men are naturally proud and jealous. They do not easily broke disappointments or mortifications. A hopeless pursuit must be attended with both. We are not then to wonder either at Sir William's declining it or resenting his ill success. In a former letter you say that had Sir William continued to solicit your affections a little longer they would have been all his. You know not that, Louisa. Your vanity was slattered by the assiduities of a lover, and your pride revolted at the authority of a husband. Neither of these sentiments have anything to do with passion. Had you loved the man you married you would have wished to preserve his affection without being vain of it, and had you seen a declining you would have tried every means to recover it without considering how much your pride would be hurt by its loss. There are, I am convinced, abundance of ingredients necessary to form a happy union for life, but love is, in my opinion, of all others the most necessary. Like the sun, it not only brightens and guilds every amiable quality of the beloved object, but draws forth every latent virtue in our hearts and excites us to become as perfect as we can in order to merit that affection which constitutes our true happiness. Milton seems to be of my opinion when he makes the first of lovers and of men say thus to Eve, I from the influence of thy looks receive access in every virtue in thy sight more wise more watchful stronger if need were of outward strength while shame thou looking on shame to be overcome or overreached would utmost vigour raise and raise unite. I know not why or how I have launched out into this dissertation upon matrimony unless it be that I wish to avoid the painful subject of your last letters and yet cannot turn my thoughts upon anything quite foreign to it. I think I ought at least to acknowledge that I am pleased with the resolution you have shown in banishing Lord Lucan and the delicacy of your motive for confessing your passion to him is the only possible excuse that can be urged for such a hazardous impropriety. But let me now hope that my dear Luisa's virtue will soon enable her to rise above the want of an apology and that a proper consciousness of what she owes to herself will assist her to triumph over that unhappy weakness which she so pathetically describes as the harbinger of fear and shame. Hateful destructive passions. O be they banished far from every generous breast and in their room may hope and joy expand my sister's heart. Mrs. Walter's health continues extremely delicate. The physicians who attend her give me hopes that she may recover though slowly. If it were not for that sweet promise or hope I should at this moment be the most wretched of mortals for at this moment every creature that I truly love is unhappy. Can I then be otherwise? I should be sorry if I could. My brother has given his final negative to Mrs. Colville's proposal. On her account he will not stay longer in Paris and on his own he will not return to England. He intends to cross the Alps in pursuit of amusement. May he find that and everything else he wishes. Adieu my beloved Luisa. F. Cleveland End of Letter 40 Letter 41 of the history of Lady Barton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith Letter 41 Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland Southfield Then all the boasted office of thy friendship was but to tell Luisa what a wretch she is, alas, what need that. I cannot help saying, Fanny, that these lines seem but too applicable to your last letter. When I poured forth the anguish of my breaking heart before you, I had not a right to expect that my friend and sister would have spoken peace to its sorrows and poured wine and oil on its wounds. You tell me that reason and virtue forbid these tender offices in my unhappy case. Our reason and virtue, then, at war with wretchedness, and must guilt be always connected with misery? Or is it, can it be true, that misfortunes loosen the ties of blood, as well as friendship, and leave the wretch infected by them to be hurried down the stream of life, at the mercy of their own wild passions, more destructive far than raging winds and seas? Forgive me, Fanny, for this horrid thought. I know your heart is generous and good, and that you did not mean to add to my distress. Nay, I am certain that each wound you gave was doubly felt by you, yet why, my sister, should you think it necessary to deal severely with me? If, as you seem to think, vanity is my predominant foible, why did not my fair philosopher find out its use, and play it off against my present weakness? We should never humble that heart too much, which we have any hopes of reclaiming. When we become completely vile in our own sight, we have but little reason to hope for the good opinion of others, which, I much fear, is one of our strongest incitements to virtue, and when, as you have before observed, we are totally indifferent to what the world thinks of us, we too generally not only meet, but deserve its censure and contempt. A woman still, my Fanny, under all my distress, I am inclined to justify the foible you hint at. Nay more, to prove that it approaches to the very province of virtue, as it is at least capable of rousing it to action, and sometimes of assisting its operations. Respect thyself, is certainly one of the best tenets that has ever been conveyed to us, yet surely it savours a little of the more proper, which term, though exactly translated by the words, self-love, conveys yet a different idea to my mind, and appears to have somewhat more of the lightness of vanity than of self-appluse in material manners. Bravo, Louisa, how admirally you have trifled through this page, on a subject absolutely foreign to your heart, but has not my Fanny set me the example, and shall I not endeavor to imitate her? Alas, like all other copyists, I fall short of the original, for I write on, I shall again recur to the sad source of all my sorrows. Again, indulge the woman in my soul, and give a loose to tears and to complainings. For your sake, then, my Fanny, I will restrain my pen, and suffer this letter to reach your hands, free from the severe tax which has been too often imposed on you, by my late correspondence. For indeed I am not Mary, but do beguile the thing I am, by seeming otherwise. I am running into quotations, but they are natural to a disturbed mind, as persons in such a state would rather use anybody's sense than their own, for whatever can divert the mind, or turn it from its own reflections, must be a point gained from misery. Therefore I do endeavor thus to sport, I find, in vain, for laughter without mirth. It is but hysterical, and may end in tears. My sincerest good wishes attend Mrs. Walter, and I may venture to add, that I am both to her and you, much more than to myself, an affectionate friend, L. Barton. I might with great truth and justice reply to the lemma of my dear Louise's letter, by quoting the words that follow it in the original. Footnote. Oh, rather say I came to tell her how she might be happy, to soothe the secret anguish of her soul, to comfort that fair mourner, that forlorn one, and teach her steps to know the paths of peace. Fair penitent. End of footnote. But though I may not express myself as elegantly as Mr. Rowe, I will trust my defense to the feelings of my heart on a subject where it is so truly interested. If soothing could alleviate your sufferings, my pen should be taken from the signet's wing, and dipped in the honey of hybla. But alas, my sister, yours is a disease that will increase by indulgence, and which severity alone can cure. There have been instances where the hand of a surgeon has trembled from a consciousness of the misery he was obliged to inflict on his patient. Judge, then, how unsteadily I now hold the pen that is to wound the heart of my Louisa, by telling her that I fear she has committed an almost irreparable error. I have already told you that it is long since I with grief beheld your partiality for Lord Lucan, but from the idea which you taught me to form of him, and from my thorough knowledge of the delicacy and propriety of your sentiments joined to your situation, I had lulled myself into a perfect security that Lord Lucan would never dare to insult the wife of Sir William Barton with the declaration of his passion, and that finding it entirely hopeless, he would either conquer or transfer it to some other object, from whom he might reasonably expect a proper return. Such an attachment as Lord Lucan's may be compared to winter plants, which by the aid of hot houses are rendered capable of producing summer fruits, but must decay and die without such artificial aid. Hope is the nurse of love. Without it, I am certain it cannot long exist, even in the most romantic bosom. Can I then consider my Louisa's conduct as blameless, when I find Lord Lucan has avowed his passion? But what is the sentence which you would have pronounced twelve months ago upon a married woman who had declared that passion to be mutual? Guilty, guilty upon honour. You have still candour enough to judge yourself as severely as you could anyone else. You acknowledge yourself a criminal, but wither are your candour and your judgment both fled, when you endeavour to derive merit from what you allow to be a crime, and say that you confessed your passion to preserve your virtue. I begin to be extremely apprehensive that reason is a very useless property to man, and can seldom do more than direct our choice in things that are merely indifferent to us. Apathy is not natural to the human mind, and yet from the moment our passions begin to operate with any degree of vigor, that same boasted reason, which philosophers tells us supplies its place by controlling their emotions and directing their pursuits, not only becomes instantly subservient to them, but meanly condescends to enter into the defense of their most pernicious consequences, and readily engages in the pleasing but baneful office of assisting us to impose upon ourselves. This is, and must be true. At least I wish to think so, for I would much rather attribute my Louisa's errors to the general defects of our nature than account for them by supposing any particular weakness, either in her reason or her virtue. And surely she must herself acknowledge a failure in that judgment that can be persuaded we may set bounds to the encroachments of a lover by telling him that he is beloved. Alas, Louisa, Lord Lucan is not banished from Ash Park, from Southfield, from your sight, for ever. But both the world and I, without being over rigid, have a right to expect that he should no more be permitted to plead his passion or avail himself of yours. If you should be inclined to dispute the authority which demands this sacrifice, let me remind you that there is one who has an undoubted right to claim it. Let your honour, then, make a willing sacrifice of all future connection with Lord Lucan, as the only atonement you can now make for the injury you have done Sir William Barton. By this means, and this alone, you may again recover your happiness, for I know you too well to suppose that it can ever be compatible with the consciousness of continuing to act in opposition to the strictest rectitude. I know, too, that you have strength of mind sufficient to accomplish this arduous task, and that our mental, like our bodily strength, is increased and invigorated by use. That generous frankness which is the genuine offspring of virtue shall again reanimate my beloved Louisa's face, the mild eye of friendship shall no longer be painful to her, and she shall endure the piercing look of inquiry from her husband's eyes with soft yet steady dignity. Oh, may my wishes be prophetic. Amen, amen. I will now venture to tell you that I am truly grieved for the young, the innocent, and amiable Harriet. My concern may possibly remind you of Swift's lines, should some neighbour feel a pain, just in the part where I complain, etc. I acknowledge the sympathy between us, and would do much to cure her malady. She has, however, the advantage of me in every respect. She is younger, and, of course, the impression which her heart has received is more likely to be erased. The letters we carve on saplings wear out with her growth, while those that are imprinted on the perfect tree remain indelible. Besides, it is by no means impossible that Lord Lucan may love her yet, for I repeat my opinion that his passion for you is quite a sickly plant, which must necessarily perish, as I am perfectly convinced that you don't mean to cherish it longer. For all these good and weighty reasons I think she may hope, or at least I will do so for her, that one way or other her heart may be set at ease. I am in a praying mood, and will say amen to this wish also. I would add another petition to those I have already made if I hoped it would succeed, but I almost begin to despair of Mrs. Walter's recovery. She continues to languish without any visible sign of amendment, and the physicians now think that the air of a more southern climb is the only chance she has for life. She has written to the good Père Guillaume to recommend her to a convent that will receive her and her child as pensioners, and allow her the liberty of going out in a carriage for exercise, which is absolutely necessary to her existence. Where I only to consider myself, the pain I feel at the thought of parting with this charming woman would tempt me to wish that I had never known her. But how amply am I recompensed for that, and a thousand other sufferings, by the delightful reflection of having rendered her mind perfectly tranquil, nay happy, by indulging myself in settling a small but decent provision on her darling child. Can all the diamonds that ever issued from the Indian minds afford to their possessors that heartfelt glow of satisfaction I enjoyed when I had perfected the deed which conveyed two thousand pounds into the hands of trustees for the use of the young Olivia Walter. I was so apprehensive that the strong emotions of the mother's gratitude might have affected her delicate frame that I was almost tempted to conceal this matter from her. Yet I wished to remove every fear or doubt which the weakness and languor of her spirits might suggest with regard to her child's future fate. I wrote her a few lines to tell her what I had done, and added that I would debar myself from the pleasure of seeing her till she should give me a promise under her hand, never to mention this business to me. She promised indeed what was impossible for her to perform, and at our next interview I was convinced that as the Peruvian princess says, to be thoroughly generous you must listen to acknowledgments. I have promised that if it should please Providence to call her to a state of bliss I will immediately take the little Olivia under my care, and if I live I will most faithfully discharge the pleasing and important trust. My spirits, not much elevated before, sink under the sad idea of Mrs. Walter's death. I cannot at present say more than that I am, with unabated tenderness, your truly affectionate sister, F. Cleveland. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith. Letters 43 to 44. Letter 43. Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland. Seek no longer, my fanny, to save me from the miseries which I have brought upon myself, but try my sister to secure your own peace, by devoting to oblivion the memory of a wretch that seems marked for destruction. I feel the snares of fate wound round me, and I but vainly struggle to escape the toils. A little gleam of comfort had beamed upon me from your last letter. The kindness of your wishes had raised an ardor in my mind, for their accomplishment which amounted almost to a hope of success, and I look forward with anxious desire to some future era, when my happiness should confirm your prophecy. In this temper of mine I walk slowly and lonely along to the temple, which I have already mentioned to you, and if now and then a few vagrant tears strayed down my cheeks, I considered them as drops of a salutary woe, and did not once wish to restrain the helpful current. In fine I may truly say that many weeks have passed since my poor harassed mind enjoyed so sweet a calm before. When I had reached my little asylum, I reread your letter and found but one passage in it that gave me pain. I will not now say which it was, for that anguish has been entirely absorbed in a far greater one. I took up a pen to write to you, which instantly dropped from my hand at the site of Lord Lucan's portrait, which lay before me on the table. By an involuntary motion I took up the picture and looking on it exclaimed, It is too true, Louisa! Lord Lucan is not banished from Southfield, from Ash Park, from my site, for ever. Enroaching and presuming man, couldest thou not be content with that idle likeness which my too fond fancy had already traced upon my mind, but at the hazard of my reputation would obtrude this mimic resemblance on my site. While I pronounce these words, the door opened, and Colonel Walter stood before me. I dropped the picture, he took it up, seated himself by me, and addressed me in pretty near the same words, which Polydor uses when he finds Momita in tears. I had just presence of mine enough to say that I was not then disposed to play the fool. He instantly assumed a more serious air, caught hold of my hand, and instantly declared a passion for me, which he boasted had commenced at the same moment with Lord Lucan's. That respect had hitherto kept him silent till he found that his rival was likely to carry away the prize by his audacity, and that this alone had determined him to urge his equal attachment to me. Surprise had hitherto kept me silent. Grief now stopped my utterance. I saw myself in the power of a wretch whom I knew to be devoid of generosity or pity. I saw my ruin plain. I see it still. It was in vain to deny my regard for Lord Lucan. The words which he had heard me utter, and the fatal picture, which was then in his possession, were proofs in convertible. My tears had no effect on him. He pursued his brutal discourse, by saying that Lord Lucan was certainly more calculated for inspiring a romantic childish passion than himself, and that he most willingly resigned all the sentimental and platonic part of my affection to him, but that I had charm sufficient to render them both happy, which he hoped my prudence would incline me too, when I reflected that he was not the confident of my choice, and had therefore a right to expect that he should be bribed to secrecy. I could contain my resentment no longer, but with eyes sparkling with indignation bid him fly that moment from my sight, and make whatever use his villainy might suggest of the secret which his meanness and insolence had obtained, that I would rely for my justification from his malice, and on my innocence and the candor of Sir William Barton, who should certainly be acquainted with the return he made to his friendship, he replied, with the most insulting frodeur, that if Sir William had really a friendship for him, he would certainly give him a preference in the purchase of a jewel which he neither knew how to value or preserve, and in which he seemed to have nothing more at present than a nominal property. In short, Madame, continued he, though I have been a soldier, I am not so much inclined to cutting of throats, as to deliver you from Sir William's tyranny, merely to leave you at liberty to bestow yourself on Lord Lucan, but if you will condescend to make a concession to the warmth of that passion your charms have inspired me with, I will protect you from your husband and the whole world beside at the hazard of my life and fortune. In love at least I am a Swiss and will not fight without pay. Remember, Madame, that you are much more in my power than I am in yours, and that if you should attempt to raise Sir William's resentment toward me, I can, with the greatest ease, return it upon yourself. This picture, Madame? Restore it, sir, this moment. On certain terms you may commend it, Madame. What are they? Make me as happy as you have made the original of it, and all my future life shall be devoted to you. Hear me, sir, while I call heaven to witness that Lord Lucan never solicited a criminal indulgence from me, and that my heart has never yet admitted a thought that could reflect dishonor on my husband. Yet criminal to him and heaven I am, perhaps, for having yielded a secret, though involuntary, preference to another object. The punishment of this, my greatest guilt, I now receive from you, and if there be a spark of honour or humanity remaining in your breast, you will not only cease to persecute an unhappy woman, who has confessed her weakness to you, but conferred the unworthy passion you have dared to urge to pity. Alas, I dare not say esteem. He was silent. I ventured to look up, and through the dim medium of my tears I thought he seemed affected. Charming, angeletic, tyrant, he exclaimed, O, were that tender weakness you have now avowed, but felt for me how should I worship even that false delicacy which deems a criminal, but it is deceitful all, Lord Lucan, madame, has solicited. Never, never, sir, recall the morning scene at Waltersborough. Conviction flashed upon me at the instant, and resentment hurried me beyond all tamer considerations. I do, sir, and am now convinced you were the person who then insulted me. You only could have had the presumption to attempt so base an outrage, and your knowing it has now revealed the mystery. You were the audacious monster who violated, at once, the laws of decency and hospitality. Would to heaven my death had been the consequence, but let what will happen now I will no longer hold a moment's parlay with you. I strove at that instant to rush out of the temple, but he prevented me by seizing one of my hands and saying, I plead guilty, madame, but be assured I never should have made so daring an essay, but that I thought in such a situation Lord Lucan might have succeeded. A thousand circumstances concurred to make me think so. I looked upon the straining of his leg as a contrivance to excuse his going out with the rest of the hunters, that he might spend his time more happily with you, and had it been so, could you blame me, madame? My love, my admiration, are as strong as his. Detested love, detested admiration, was all that I could utter. I know it, madame, then leave me, sir, this moment, not till you have pardoned a fault for which I never can forgive myself as it has distressed or offended you. On one condition I will pardon you, sir, and on no other. Name it, madame, that you shall never presume to hint your hateful passion more. Impossible, as well not bid me breath, but let not your sentence be too severe, for I have terms to make, as well as you. Suppose that I, at that instant, I heard the footsteps of a person running towards the temple. It was Harriet, who came to tell me that her uncle was arrived. Gracious heaven, I exclaimed in a low voice, what will become of me? The Colonel replied in the same tone, rely upon my friendship and be happy. Harriet looked amazed, but with the utmost tenderness begged that I would compose myself, as she was sure Sir William would be shot, were he to see my agitation. Not if he knew the cause, said Colonel Walter, I stared upon him wildly, he proceeded. Lady Barton has had a fall and sprained her ankle. The shock has hurried her spirits, and I was this moment going to the house, to order the cabriole to bring her home. Harriet looked as if she doubted, but took the hint and said, You had best do so, sir, and let my uncle know of the accident, as it will account for my aunt's delay. I was silent, yet sure my situation was truly pitiable, in being reduced to the sad dilemma, either of joining in a deceit with a person whom I detested, or of exposing myself to the prying eyes of my husband, under such circumstances as must alarm him, and call for explanation. The Colonel then turned to me and said, Is it your pleasure, madame, that I should go? Yes, yes, was all that I could utter, and the moment he was gone burst again into a passion of tears upon which Harriet cried out, Why is not Lucy here? I have no influence upon my aunt. I am not worthy to advise. You are, you are, my dear, what would you have me do? Have pity on Sir William, and yourself, and try to calm your spirits, for sure he never will believe they could be ruffled thus, by so slight an accident. Believe me, madame, I would lay down my life to make you happy, though it is but a small compliment, for it is a very little value to myself. She turned aside to hide a starting tear. I clasped her to my breast, and said, Do not, my Harriet, add to my distress, by suffering me to think you are unhappy. Sir William and the Cabriol came together. He embraced me very affectionately, and rallied me on my cowardice, in being so affected by my fall, wanted much to see my ankle, which I declined, took me up in his arms, and seated me in the chair, walked by my side till we got to the house, and again lifted me out of it into my dressing room. Oh, think, my sister, what I then endured, but you can never know, deceit has ever been a stranger to your heart, and the sharp stings of self-contempt have never entered there. Benson flew to me with arc, brusade, vinegar, etc. The conscious of the mean part I then acted, rendered me peevish, and I hastily bid her to leave the room. I blushed as the words escaped me. Was it her fault that I was become contemptible? When she was gone out, Harriet said, I fear, madame, you are much hurt indeed. Yes, Harriet, to the heart. I sunk down upon the couch, and covered my face with my handkerchief. She threw herself at my feet, and without attempting to pry into the cause, implored me to let her put a bandage around my ankle, lest Sir William should be alarmed at my supposed obstancy, and send for a surgeon. This I refused, and on the instant resolved to extricate myself from the hateful appearance of having entered into a mean collusion with Colonel Walter, I rang the bell for Benson, and assuming as cheerful a counterance as I could put on, told her that I had not received any hurt that required particular application, and that time should be my only physician. I then dressed myself as usual, and when the last dinner bell rung, I desired Harriet to accompany me to the parlor. Sir William seemed surprised at seeing me walk, and said he was just then coming to assist me, or, as the old ballad said, to take up his load of vanity. When I sat down to table, I found myself extremely ill. I tried to eat, but in vain. I soon retired after dinner, and sat down to write this account of my mortification to you. It's now eight o'clock, and I can no longer support the violent pain in my head, or hold the pen. Adieu, my sister, my friend, my confidant, L. Barton, P.S., by whom, or how contrived, the picture has been laid on the table in the temple. I cannot guess, nor know, I yet threw what medium to inquire about it. Letter forty-four Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland Many days have elapsed since I concluded my last letter to my fanny. Some of them have passed like the arrow that flyeth through the air, and leaves no trace behind. Would I had accompanied their flight? But alas, it will not be. And by the same almighty fiat, which first called me into being, I am again recalled from the confines of eternity. May that gracious power that has been pleased to prolong my existence, endure me with resignation to his all-wise decrees. I am at present but ill able to write the account I can give you of myself. Must therefore be short, but it will tell my sister that I live, and not withstanding my desiring her to forget me. I still flatter myself that my life is a consequence to her happiness. The moment I had sealed my last letter to you, I found myself unable to sit up, and went to bed, but not to rest. About eleven Sir William came into my chamber, and on finding me extremely feverish, muttered something about fine ladies being always vaporish or indisposed, and wished me a good night. Never was health more sincerely welcomed by a dying wretch than sickness was now to me. I hoped, I trusted, I should be released, and invoke the king of terrors with the unhappy constants. O amiable lovely death, arise forth from thy couch of lasting night. Thou hate and tear to prosperity. Come, grin on me, and I will think, thou smilest, and kiss thee as thy wife, Misery's love. O come to me. In this manner did I pass the night, rejoicing in the increase of my disorder, till the delirium which it brought on rendered me insensible to it, and everything else, for five days I continued in a state of mental annihilation. The return of my reason was like the appearance of an ingus fatus. It glimmered and vanished several times, as if unwilling to return to the wretched habitation which it had forsaken. Harriet, my beloved, my gentle Harriet, whose tenderness and attention to me has been unremitted, assures me that Sir William was much afflicted during my illness, and that though Colonel Walter endeavored to console him, yet he also appeared much affected and quitted the house the next day. May the Misery's which he has brought upon me make a proper impression on his heart, and turn his detested passion into contrition for his crimes, and compassion for the sufferings of his injured wife. As soon as I was pronounced out of danger, Sir William went to visit a distant part of his estate, where he is establishing a manufacture. He has been gone ten days, and in that time I think both my mind and body have acquired strength. Perhaps it is owing to the weakness of the latter, that former is more composed, but I will, endeavour to enjoy the temporary calm, though I fear that the storm has only subsided, and may perhaps return with double fury to wreck this feeble bark. But that, as it may, I shall ever remain, your truly affectionate sister, El Barton. P.S., where and how is Mrs. Walter? Assure her of my kindest remembrance. Her sufferings are so deeply engraved on my heart, that not even my own can efface them, happy fanny, that have been able to mitigate even a part of her sorrows, by removing the bitter pangs of maternal anxiety for the fate of a beloved child. End of Letters 43-44 The seeing my letter dated from this place will in some measure account to my dear Louisa for my silence, time when she stood most in need of every consolation that friendship could bestow on a tenderly beloved and suffering sister. I am however selfish enough to rejoice that I was unacquainted with the danger that threatened your life till it was passed, for I had the painful pleasure of receiving both your letters on my arrival here last night. Truly distressing and affecting as they are, my head is at present so filled with the extraordinary events which have happened within a very short space, that though my heart is truly sensible of your afflictions, I find it impossible to give its feelings vent till I have informed you of a circumstance which I am certain will afford you the sincerest pleasure. Delia. My brother's beloved Delia. Delia Colville lives. As Zenga says, first recover that, and then you shall hear further. Our good angel, our dear Mrs. Walter, received a letter from Père Guillaume about the middle of last month, acquainting her that he would meet her at Calais and attend her to what part of France she pleased. But were he to recommend any particular convent, it should be Le Dome Erseline at Saint-Omer's, as the superior was his near relation and particular friend. This recommendation was perfectly agreeable to Mrs. Walter for many reasons. The vicinity of Saint-Omer to England was perhaps the strongest, as it flattered her with the hopes of seeing me at some time or other if she lived, and rendered the immediate removal of her daughter convenient in case of her death. I accompanied her to Dover and feared that I had taken my last farewell of my amiable friend when I saw her embark for Calais. I heard from her in a few days after our parting, and she was not worse. I had then determined to spend the remainder of the summer at Cleveland Hall, in executing some little romantic plans of improvement in order to amuse myself, and surprise Sir George at his return from Italy, which he had promised should be before winter. But a second letter from Mrs. Walter afforded me an opportunity of surprising him indeed. She told me that in the convent where she then resided, there was a very beautiful young English lady who went by the name of Wilson, who, upon having seen the address of her letter to me as it went to the tour in order to be sent to the post-office, implored her permission to speak to her in private. That some time had elapsed before she could find an opportunity, and when she did, she informed her that her name was Colville, Delia Colville. I again repeat it, that she had been placed there by her mother without her knowledge or consent, who had desired that she might be closely confined, debarred the use of pen and ink, and prevented from even going into the parlor or conversing with any of the pensioners, as she was represented to be so artful that she would corrupt and impose on them by the insincere plausibility of her manners, and was actually upon the point of disgracing her family by a shameful connection with a man of inferior rank and fortune. That in consequence of this cruel aspersion she had been treated with the utmost severity that the rules of the convent would admit of, and that from the time of her entrance till that moment she had never heard from her mother or any other person whatsoever. She then blushing mentioned Sir George Cleveland, and said she had long vainly flattered herself that he would have sought her out, and released her from so iniquitous and cruel a confinement, but that even if he had forgotten and forsaken her, she was convinced that his sister's humanity would interest itself in behalf of an oppressed and injured person whom she had once honoured with the name of Friend. She added that the mildness of her temper and the perfect acquiescence she had shown under the severe restraints that were imposed on her had influenced the nuns to treat her with less harshness than at first, and that she had lately been allowed the honour of conversing with the superior. But that the moment she attempted to justify herself from her mother's slander, she was enjoined silence, and was obliged to retire to her cell. After having this reflection urged against her, that it must be always more natural to suppose children to be unbeautiful or ungrateful than that parents should be unkind or unjust. This maxim is certainly true in general, but there are sometimes instances which occur in life that baffle all philosophy with regard to the human mind. Oh, my dear Louisa, does not your heart grieve for the sufferings of the innocent and unoffending Delia? When Mrs. Walter promised her to acquaint me with her situation, she cried out, It is enough, I know Miss Cleveland, I shall be released. Yet sure Sir George will at least accompany his sister if she should come to take me out of my confinement, and I shall see him once again. Mrs. Walter told her she believed that would be impossible, for she interrupted her by exclaiming, Is he married? If he is, I may as well stay here. Miss Cleveland's kindness will be useless to me. On Mrs. Walter's telling her that he was in Italy and not married, she kissed her hand and bathed it with her tears and said, Do not despise me, madam, for loving the most amiable of men. He is the counterpart of your Miss Cleveland, and if you knew him, you would love him also. The moment I received Mrs. Walter's letter, I went immediately to Counselor W. to know what were the proper and legal steps to be taken for the recovery of my beloved Delia. He told me he would wait on the Lord Chancellor next day, and furnish me with proper powers to compel Mrs. Colville to produce her daughter in the chancery chamber, who, as a minor, was to be considered as a ward of the court, though the guardianship of her person and fortune had before been granted to her detestable mother. I then returned home, wrote to Mrs. Walter, and enclosed a few lines to Delia in treating her to keep up her spirits till I could effect her release, which I promised to do with the utmost expedition. I ordered my clothes to be packed up and a chase with four horses to be in readiness the next day, and the moment Counselor W. furnished me with my instructions, I set out for Dover, accompanied by my maid and two men's servants. There was a messenger dispatched at the same time with his lordship's order to Mrs. Colville, but if she should not be found, or should abscond upon receiving it, I am to apply to Lord H., our Ambassador in France, whom I have the honour of being very well acquainted with, to procure a special mandate from the court of Versailles for her release. I wrote to my brother, who is now at Naples, in a very ambiguous style, hinting, as if I had heard some vague report of Delia's being alive, for I durst not trust him with the mighty joy at once, as I have been told that the sudden effects of that passion have sometimes been as fatal in their consequences as those of grief. I then informed him of my intention of going to Paris, and said, as I knew all places were indifferent to him, I hoped he would have gallantry enough to meet me there, as the pleasure I promised myself in seeing him was the principal cause of my undertaking the journey. The moment of my arrival at Saint-Omer, I was met by Mrs. Walter. I need not describe to you the effects of our interview. I flatter myself that she looks better than she did. She says the joy she feels at having been, though accidentally, the instrument of good to the amiable Delia, has roused her spirits from the torbid state they had continued in, while she considered herself but as a useless burden, or at best an insignificant blank in life. She told me she had not had an opportunity of seeing Miss Colville since she received my letter, but at prayers, that she had endeavored to render her looks as expressive as possible by the cheerfulness of her air, and that Delia seemed to understand the hint in her favor. She advised me not to go to the convent, as it was certain that I should not be permitted to see Miss Colville, and her hearing that I had been there might throw her off her guard, so far as to alarm the nuns and make them confine her still more closely, or perhaps transfer her, as is sometimes the case, over to some other convent. I was convinced by her reasons, and restraining my fond impatience I set out the next morning for Paris, where I arrived last night, and have the mortification to learn this morning that Mrs. Colville is gone to Toulouse, as it is thought to settle there. The Lord Chancellor's messenger is gone off post to her, and here must I remain till his return. And now let me assure my Louisa that not even the joy I feel at the certainty of Delia's restoration can prevent me for a moment from sympathizing in the tenderest manner with her distress, the circumstances of which are certainly equally difficult and mortifying. There never was anything so unfortunately critical as your situation with that vile Walter when Sir William's arrival was announced. The snare, as you say, seemed contrived by fate. I honor your struggling through it, and not letting the wretched triumph in the success of his scheme, which he certainly would have done had you carried on the deceit beyond the moment that it was absolutely necessary. I am grieved, but not surprised, at the effect which the anguish of your mind has had upon your constitution, and am I hope truly thankful for your recovery. And may it be a perfect one. Surely, Louisa, you ought to think Lord Lucan to blame with regard to the picture. He must have hazarded your reputation by making a confidant of the person who placed it on your table. Can it be possible that the enamored Harriet can have verified, nay, exceeded, the romantic ideas of submissive tenderness which Pryor has given us in the character of his Emma? I know not what to think, but if Harriet be indeed the confidant of Lord Lucan, she claims the highest degree of admiration that the strongest fortitude joined with the tenderest sensibility can possibly excite. But this character comprehends perhaps something more than a woman. Do not be outdone by her, my sister, but strive to emulate the virtue which you must admire. Were you to look minutely into the situation of my heart, you would find that I can practice as well as preach. For though I perhaps may never be entirely able to eradicate all traces of my weakness for Lord Hume, I have, by a kind of discipline, more severe than any in the Romish Church, conquered my desire of speaking of him. Nor do I allow even my thoughts, the fond, though sad indulgence, of contemplating either his faults or merits. For the moment his idea obtrudes itself upon my mind, I snatch up a book or pen and drive him directly from that place which he was not worthy to inhabit. Take notice that the poets are banished out of my library and that my present studies are of the reasoning kind and call for all my attention. I wish you could be prevailed upon to try this recipe, for indeed I am, for many reasons, more anxious for your recovery even than for my own. My malady can only injure an individual and that myself. Yours, like a contagion, must be fatal to many. Stop the infection then before it spreads and you will hereafter reflect with pleasure that so many persons who are and ought to be dear to you are indebted for their happiness to your virtue. I am convinced that this sentiment will have more weight with you than any selfish consideration could, for full well I know the nobleness of my Louise's nature. I was much pleased with Sir William's behaviour on account of your supposed lameness and still more so with your candour in relating it to me, as there is no doubt but that his kindness must have luckily increased your own self-condemnation. I wish Harriet would make you the confidant of her innocent passion for Lord Lucan, as your tenderness for her, joined to your own delicacy, would then restrain you from the two dangerous indulgence of talking of him, at least before her, and I should then wish that she might not be a moment out of your sight. Forgive me, my ever-dear and amiable for presuming to dictate to a heart an understanding like yours, but the greatest physician will not prescribe for himself when sick and will even condescend to take the advice of a person whose skill he knows to be inferior to his own. All I can plead in favour of my present prescription is that I have tried it on myself with success and that it is recommended to you by the warmest affection of F. Cleveland. End of Letter 45. Letter 46 of the History of Lady Barton. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith. Letter 46, Lord Hume to Lord Lucan. Naples. I barely believe, my dear Lucan, that there never was a more unfortunate knight-errant than myself, and that the renowned hero of La Mancha was but a prototype both of my folly and my sufferings. I think I want nothing but a squire as tristful as yourself to record my misadventures in the style of a ballad called the Disastrous Traveler for Lord Hume's Garland, which would certainly supersede the babes in the wood, and Barbara Allen in the English Chronicle, and set all the nursery maids and children in our nation a blubbering. My last informed you how completely I was duped at Venice that I had lost my mistress and my money. Bagatelle's not worth thinking of, say you, cheaply off for some thousands, et cetera, et cetera. Well, philosophy is a fine thing, said I to myself, and I will endeavor to think like Lord Lucan. But I had better have recollected the famous sentence recorded to have been uttered from the pulpit by an Irish bishop, who, by the way, was an Englishman, and prepared myself for what was to follow. Single misfortunes set his reverence never come alone, and the greatest of evils is attended by greater. Now, to apply my text in a very ill temper and with about a hundred pieces in my pocket, I set out from Venice and journeying by land and by water arrived safe in the ecclesiastical territories. About two leagues from Teevely my carriage broke down. I had no attendance but one servant who sat in the carriage with me, and very ill supplied the place of my former fellow traveller. I had left one footman sick at Venice who was to follow me and discharged all the rest of my useless parade. I did not choose to leave my baggage to the care or rather mercy of the postillion, and as it was not quite dark, I ordered Saunders, you know, old Robert, to stay by the ches till I could send people from Teevely either to mend it or assist him to bring my trunks to some place of safety. I had not walked half a league when I was attacked by Banditi, who demanded my purse and all my attempting to make some resistance as I wore a couteau de chasse, they knocked me down, gave me several cuts over the head, stripped me of my money clothes and watch, and left me for dead on the spot. As I grew late, Saunders became alarmed for my safety and tried to prevail on the postillion to let him have one of the horses in order to overtake and guard me on the road to the town. The fellow either was or pretended to be afraid to stay by himself, they therefore mounted the pair and set out together for Teevely. As I was left directly in the highway, the horses started as they came up to me, and when the men alighted to see what was the matter, they found me weltering in my blood, but with so much appearance of life that I still breathed them sometimes groaned. Poor old Saunders tore off his shirt to bind up my wounds as well as he could in the dark and covered me with his own clothes, while the postillion rode off in search of a surgeon and a litter to convey me to some shelter. My senses did not return till the next day when I found myself covered with bandages and so faint and weak with loss of blood that I could not speak. Saunders gave a scream of joy at seeing me open my eyes and recounted what had befallen me. I lay in this state of misery about three weeks, and when I was able to rise I had not a single garment of any sort to put on, for the postillion I presumed considering that I should have no further occasion for them had assumed to himself the office of an executor and carried off my baggage with the sheds and horses and got clear out of his holiness's dominions before there was any inquiry made after him. I sent Saunders off immediately to roam with a draft on my banker which he received and returned as quick as possible, but I was still unable to travel and a wound which I had received in my right arm prevented my being able to use a pen without suffering extremely. Let this account for your not hearing from me during my confinement. As I had a good deal of leisure to reflect upon my folly I determined to grow wise incontinently and thought the best proof I could give of my discretion was to turn my steps towards England. I was however obliged to go to Rome for a few days to settle with my banker. As soon as my business was dispatched I set out in a pursuance of my plan and have arrived thus far on my route over. I went as was natural to the house where I had formerly lived with Margarita and could not help making some inquiries after her. To my great surprise they told me that she was then in this city and lived in a most exemplary manner with an ecclesiastic who was believed to be her brother. A spirit of revenge took possession of me the moment that I heard of this pretended priest and brother and I determined to see my fallen angel upgrade her with her perfidy and punish the villain who had robbed me of my mistress and cheated me of my money. I wandered about Naples for several days without being able to discover any trace of her. At last I thought myself of visiting the churches for as she now pretended to be a devotee I might possibly meet her in one of them. Accordingly I one day saw a woman kneeling at a confessional who though she was veiled I immediately knew to be Margarita. I waited for a long time before she had concluded her devotions and joined her just as she was going out of the porch. When I spoke to her she lifted up her veil and looked at me with a countenance so full of sweetness that I instantly forgot my resentment and could have fallen at her feet and entreated her to be reconciled to me. She spoke to me in a low voice and said I have used you ill my lord but I have been severely punished for my crime. I dare not hope you should again receive me into your favor but come and accept of all the restitution that is now in my power to make you. I live in the Estrada del Santo Marca. My tyrant will be asleep by eleven o'clock I shall then at least have an opportunity of imploring your forgiveness. I dare not talk to you longer adieu. Despise me as you will Lucan I confess that I felt my tenderness for this infamous woman revived and instead of going directly to a magistrate or endeavoring to do myself justice on her and her vile accomplice I counted the minutes with impatient expectation of that happy one which should again restore me to the pleasure of seeing and conversing with her. At the time appointed I repaired to my rendezvous which was at a considerable distance from the place where I lived and in a very retired part of the town. As I passed through an unrequented street I was set upon by four bravos. I instantly drew my sword and determined to sell my life as dear as possible. As I had the advantage of a wall at my back I defended myself successfully for a few minutes but should have been overpowered if Providence had not sent Sir George Cleveland and another gentleman to my rescue. At their approach the bravos would have fled but I secured one of them whom I had wounded and who proved to be the pretended priest and brother of Margarita. When we had lodged him properly and I had got a slight wound which I had received dressed I communicated the whole of my adventure frankly to Sir George and wished him to accompany me in pursuit of that worthless woman whom I supposed to be an accomplice in the intended assassination and whom I now resolve to give up to justice. Sir George is a gallant fellow at Lucan. He talked so very rationally that he dissuaded me from my purpose as he said the bringing Margarita to punishment if I should have resolution sufficient to do so must have necessity expose myself observing also that I ought not to pursue a wretch with too much rigor whom I had formally contributed to render abandoned. His remarks upon the folly and baseness of mint in their commerce with the unhappy of the other sex were truly generous I remember but one of them at present I think he said that we first take pains to destroy the foundation of every female virtue modesty and are then surprised to find the superstructure totter. That is foolish enough to be sure though we practice it every day but to conclude for I begin to think you are heartily tired as even I grow a little weary though I am talking of myself which is the pleasantest of all subjects the next morning brought me a most awful letter from my fair penitent and treating me for the love I once bore her not to prosecute her brother as she still affected to style him declaring herself entirely innocent of any evil intentions of his with regard to my life and offering to refund whatever remained of the jewels she had robbed me of provided I would but remit the prosecution I consulted with Cleveland who advised me not to be prevailed on to suffer such a pest to society as per Jacques to escape but if he would give up his accomplices to use my interest to get them all sent to the gallows together as to La Belle Signore he thought I should make terms with her also and let her compound for her crimes by a life of repentance that the jewels she mentioned should be sold in order to pay her pension among Le Fille Rapunty where she should be obliged to enter on her probation immediately I was charmed with this scheme and by his assistance have happily put it into execution where he could be as successful in restoring me to the esteem of an amiable woman as he has been in extricating me from the artifices of a vile one but I've never yet dared to name Miss Cleveland to him and I will patiently go through a year of probation under his eye before I even presume to hope that he will favor my suit in the meantime I am happy to find from his behavior that he is a stranger to mine upon that occasion he talks of returning to England in a few months I'm determined to accompany him and I hope that you will have got so far the better of your romantic passion by that time as to quit your sorrowful solitude and meet us there here ends my woeful story which however has had a fortunate conclusion may all your adventures terminate as happily sincerely wishes your affectionate friend Hume PS I have this moment received a billet from Sir George Cleveland acquainting me that he means to set out immediately for Paris this is a sudden flight but I'm determined to accompany him direct to me accordingly in a letter 46 letter 47 of the history of Lady Barton let it's a labor box recording all labor box recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit laborbox.org recording by Ivan Yuan from Shanghai High School International Division the history of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffiths letter 47 Lord Luton to Lord Hume my dear Hume I sincerely congratulate you on the opretical denouement of your Italian comedy and think that even Metastasio has not wound up any of his catastrophes with more poetical justice than you have shown in the disposal of your dramatic person a but the most enviable part of your good fortune is the having met with such a friend as Sir George Cleveland whose knowledge of the world joined to an excellent understanding and an amiable heart all which he has shown in the management of your affairs with Margarita must render him once an object of your affection and respect and afford you an opportunity of benefiting both by his per seps and example I have not the honor of knowing Sir George but have heard his character description and story he is neither older wiser nor better principled than you are to what then are we to impute the difference between the perceptor and the pupil to nothing more than a circumstance which I am glad to lay hold of for your instruction he had conceived a strong but chaste passion for a woman of merit whose name I know not that which nothing in nature more elevates the mind improves the understanding refines the manners and purges the affections of man his mistress is dead I heard lately but the influence of virtue reaches beyond the grave for a heart once rendered pure like a transmuted metal can never degenerate into its original baseness again I have often thought that many of the errors of our young men of quality are owing to a wrong choice of the governors to whom they are entrusted at the most critical era of their lives which their passions are stronger and their judgment weakest I mean when they are thought old enough to be sent abroad for improvement and not deemed wise enough to conduct themselves fathers and guardians on this occasion generally fix on some person of learning which by the ignorant is frequently mistaken for sense as what is called a liberal education is as falsely and frequently supposed to be thinness with a liberal mind the greatest blockheads I have ever known had been bred in college neither absurdity nor meanest prevent a man from becoming master of a language nor of arriving at a competent knowledge in any particular branch of science but these are not the qualifications necessary to form a noble mind and yet an ignorant pedant is not only the first person from whom we receive the rudiments of education but is too often the last to whose final care we are consigned to receive that fine polish to which our mind and manners owe their most distinguished lustry that morale animal which both brightens and preserves if I should ever be happy enough to see a son of mine at a fit age to send abroad I shall endeavor to find out a governor for him I mean one who with a complete experience of the world has both sense and virtue sufficient to detest vice admire virtue and yield indulgence to the foibles and irregularities of use and inexperience whose morality should exceed the fixed and settled rules of vice and virtue in the schools and whose principles of religion know perfectly conformable to our established mode of worship should with regard to the best characteristic of it no no difference of sect but extend itself to the outermost line of the great circle of charity which embraces all mankind you will perhaps say that I have drawn an ideal character like clad of a patriot king it may be so but the person I should select for such a purpose of entering a young man of rank or fortune into the world at large should be some reduced officer whose humanity had been rather softened and hardened by danger and disappointment one who had been trained up in a school of honor which may be styled the true sublime of morals and such a guardian preceptor or passport through life I should prefer to the whole conclave of Parsons out of which class of men are too generally chosen the bare leaders of our modern cubs of quality so much for governors I think you judge rightly in not mentioning Miss Cleveland to sir George while you are a more with Margarita is so recent there is something extremely indelicate in professing a passion for a virtuous woman before we have undergone a sufficient quarantine after the contagion of an abandoned one a man in such a situation resembles a centaur half human half brute or at best he can best say with Cyrus his friend a raspy I have two souls sir George is too good a judge of human nature not to excuse your infatuation in favor of an artful beauty but how shall miss Cleveland be reconciled to your infidelity or on what security shall she rest her hope that you may not be subject to a second delirium indeed my dear Hugh a year is too short for a term of probation or rather atonement though you were to spend it in the severe penance with your prototype Don Quixote endured for the disenchantment of Dorsania upon the Black Mountain by the way I think the constancy and sufferings of that renowned nightmare a much greater similitude to my sufferings than to yours for I do not find that you resemble him in any point but your misadventures which like his was the natural and necessary consequences of madness enthusiasm and folly I hope I may venture to say this without offense as you have so seriously declared your determination of becoming wise incanted me if anything could have tempted me to leave Ireland at present it would have been to meet you in London but as you have now a much stronger inducement than my company to urge your return I shall remain what you call my sorrowful solitude as it is now not only become pleasant but dear to me for solitude is sometimes the nurse of contentment as well as a wall from this hint you will conclude my heart to be more at ease than when I wrote last to you and your conclusion will be just it is indeed much more at ease yet more anxious still love deals in contradictions you see I should now conclude with subscribing myself my dear Humes affectionate friend and servant lukin of letter 47 letter 48 of the history of Lady Barton this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the history of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith letter 48 Lord Hume to Lord Lucan Paris I tell you Lucan there is no such thing as resisting fate here am I with as good and sober dispositions as any man of two and 20 in Europe for ever getting into some scrape or other without temptation or excuse or even knowing how or why I became engaged well then a knight errant I certainly am of nature's own dubbing and I will now courteously relate to you myself for want of a squire my new achievement the first I must acquaint you that ever since our arrival here Sir George Cleveland has been so totally taken up with some private business of his own that poor melancholy I have been left to the pleasant amusement of contemplating my own extravagance and folly which as you know deprived me of the happiness of seeing or conversing with his charming sister who has met him here and as I quitted Naples almost at a minutes morning I left old Robert to pack up my clothes and bring them after me in this situation I could not possibly make my appearance in public or even venture to visit any of my quantum acquaintances in my traveling dress I spent two days to serve and found an unlucky truth that any company would be less dull to me than my own on this discovery I sailed forth and in sauntering along the boulevard I happened to meet Jack Wilson of the guards who is as dissipated a genius as myself I proposed to him are going to dine at some of the environs of Paris to which he readily agreed a shez was ordered directly we drove off to Noisy le sec we walked about while dinner was preparing and at a little distance observed a castle defended by a deep moat great iron gates a drawbridge and immense high walls the appearance of this extraordinary mansion roused my chivalry I figured to myself a beauty a stamp so confined thereby some horned enchanter or giant and determined that I would if possible set the fair captive free Wilson laughed at my romantic ideas but they had taken too strong possession of me to be easily baffled when we returned to our end we inquired from our host who were the inhabitants of that Gothic fortress he told us they were two very beautiful young ladies of high birth and large fortunes who being determined never to marry yet disliking the severities of a convent had chosen to seclude themselves from the world in that retirement he added that the curiosity of all the neighboring gentry was so highly raised that many attempts had been made to get a side of these fair recluses but in vain for no mortal had ever seen them since their arrival there though it was known they walked in their gardens every day curiosity began now to operate upon Wilson as much as romance had done before on me and we resolved that we would take a peep at these voluntary votaries of Madame Diana Koot Kee Koot many and various were the schemes which we framed and rejected for the gratification of our idle and impertinent inquisitiveness during the course of that night we lay in the same room in order to continue our consultations but when the dawn appeared we were just as undetermined on what method to pursue as we were at the moment we lay down we rose and called our host into council who assured us that the castle was inaccessible unless we were mad enough to venture our lives by swimming over a deep false A which defended it in front or scrambling through a thicket of briars which prevented our approach on the other side and that if we should even be able to subdue these difficulties there were still an immense high wall decline which no man could get over without hazarding life or limb opposition but increased our ardor and we at last resolved to attempt the thicket in preference to the falset as we thought we should make a better appearance in the eyes of these supposed charms even with our clothes torn then after emerging dripping wet out of a dirty ditch and by the way lukin i think that all the water in and about paris wants washing as was said once by a witty friend of mine i never saw such a muddy puddle in my life as their boasted sen the yellow tie before the crystal severed our crystal to it i will not detain you by repeating the fatigue and difficulties we suffered in this attempt suffice it to say that our clothes returned and our hands legs and faces as much scratched as if we had made a party on the pantilles with that group of amorous tabby's but what are not patience and perseverance able to subdue in short we scale the walls and seated ourselves in a good pleasant arbor in a corner of the garden valuing ourselves on our heroic achievement and impatiently expecting the reward of our toils by being blessed at last with a view of these fair vestals in a short time after we have made our lodgement in this redoubt to our inexpressible delight we heard the sound of female voices talking in a cheerful lively tone and soon saw two ladies walking towards us down an alley that fronted the harbor we were in but no language will ever be able to describe our amazement when the speakers had advanced near enough to be clearly seen and distinctly heard by us no idea either of venus or the graces or dana and or nymphs will suit the description but if you can rummage up any recollection of cybele or for that matter you need not go so far back as mother shipton will serve as well to represent two old hags that appeared then before us it must be enchantment said i to wilson he replied i see nothing enchanting about them they are both ugly and old no woman is old in france remember that wilson or at least let us endeavor to persuade these gan nams that we think so for civility is the only passport by which we can hope to get over the drawbridge in safety when they approach the harbor perceiving us they started to in their turn and would have fled back if their old shanks had been supple enough to have corresponded with their fears but we soon quieted their apprehensions by the mildness of our demeanor and the frank confession we made of the romantic curiosity which had prompted us to this rally being thus recovered from this alarm they both laughed moderately at the awkward confusion which appeared in our faces and one of them addressing us with infinite good humor and the vastity said we are extremely obliged to you gentlemen or rather courteous nights for the perils you have encountered for our sakes and also for convincing us that the noble spirit of chivalry is not yet quite extinct in the world believe me we wish rather more earnestly than you that we were possessed of those charms which you expected to have met with in this gallant adventure but youth and beauty are transitory things and with them we have lost the admiration of your sex and merely in sport had yet a mind to try if it was not still in our power to occasion a disappointment as great though not indeed so severe as any young and beautiful coquette might make her lover feel if i may judge by your countenances i think we have so far succeeded and the only immense we can make you for having spent our frolic is to desire the favor of your company to dinner and to promise to convey you back again by our shorter and pleasanter road than you came to noisy lo sec without any further damages than what the view of our person seems already to have made you pay for your peeping you may suppose how confoundedly silly wilson and i looked all this while but i was so much pleased with the spirit and good humor of this lively dowager that i wished her 30 years younger entirely for her own sake we accepted her invitation with the best grace we could and entered into a very cheerful conversation with them both during which they discovered that we were englishmen and informed us that they were our country women the one who seemed to take the lead in everything is a sister of lord deeds and had been while she lived in england an intimate acquaintance of my mother's who the other lady was did not transpire before we parted wilson and i both promised her not to disclose their secrets if she chose to carry on the just for any further time but she gave us leave to publish it to our friends if we pleased as she meant to quit that place immediately said she and her companion were both tired of their voluntary confinement and did not believe that if they were to remain there seven years longer any frenchman would ever give himself as much trouble about them as we had done i charged myself with some commissions poor may bell antique which i shall execute in england with the most nightly punctuality imaginable and returned laughing to paris about an hour ago robert is arrived with my baggage i shall dress and go to the coal may be though i believe it will be near over before i get there as i am resolved to attend sir george cleveland's motions and that he seems to be upon the wing i shall not expect to hear from you while i remain upon the continent but hope to find a packet from you at my arrival in old england till then adieu my dear lucan says yours in a letter 48 letter 49 of the history of lady barton this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox dot org recording by linda mary nelson bank hoover bc the history of lady barton by elizabeth griffith letter 49 from lady barton to miss cleveland self-field pleasure joy they are both inadequate to what i feel from your account of delia coville my brother my beloved my happy brother what will his transports be he may certainly say with lord towley long-parted friends that pass through common voyages in life receive but common gladness at their meeting but from a shipwreck saved we mingle tears with our embraces and surely the recovery i might almost say the resurrection of the beloved and lamented delia is a still higher cause for rapture i should fear for his life or senses if this secret was in any other hands but gores yet even for you i think it will be a difficult task to moderate his ecstasy were i now to meet him i should fly into his arms and cry out she lives i know you will not do so but though you may restrain your tongue will not your eyes betray the mighty joy will they not sparkle with unusual luster and speak of delia coville mine do so at this moment though their weak beams have long been quenched in tears i wait impatiently for another letter from you do but tell me they have met and my mind will be at peace for i shall then suppose that not but death can part them i do not wish to mix one gloomy line with this joyful subject i shall therefore say little of myself i am recovering from my late illness though slowly sir william is returned in my alarming state he fell from his horse about a fortnight ago his physician apprehends that he has received some inward hurt as he spits blood ever since my attention to him is unremitted seems pleased with it and i begin once more to flatter myself that my fanny's prediction may yet be verified colonel walter has renewed his visit and made several attempts to speak to me alone which i have happily evaded for when i am absent from sir william i take care to keep hair yet constantly with me i perceive he is mortified at my caution in which however i am determined to persevere last night when our letters came from the post the colonel took them from the servant and conveyed one out of his pocket into the parcel quick as his motions were this action did not escape me and the moment i had received those that were addressed to me i retired and immediately enclosed the letter which bore no postmark on it in a blank cover directed to the colonel and ordered it to be instantly delivered to him when i returned into the parlor to supper there were strong traces of resentment in his counterance and he talked rather apt than to me for the remainder of the evening this morning he went from hence before i was up surely he will at length desist from an hopeless pursuit twice have his detested and unsuccessful attempts brought me near the grave heaven preserve me from a third i shudder at the bear apprehension your wishes with regard to my becoming harriet's confidant are almost accomplished for she has confessed to me that she corresponded with lord lucan during my illness and also that she concealed my danger from him as she judged what the sufferings would be on that occasion by her own was ever anything more truly delicate than her endeavoring to save him pain she offered to shrew me his letters i refused to see them and told her i had no doubt of his friendship for me or the propriety and politeness of his manners towards her but that i could not help observing to her as a friend without the authority of a parent that i feared there was something inconsistent with the strict rules of decorum in her carrying on such a correspondence she blushed extremely and i could perceive there was something more still laboring in her artless bosom lord lucan's picture came into my thoughts at the same time yet i had not resolution sufficient to ask her a single question relative to it after a minute silence i saw that her face was bathed with tears she caught my hand and said i have been much more imprudent madame than you yet know of but if you will be my friend indeed alas i have no other and conceal what is passed from my uncle i will tell you all my folly and submit my future conduct to your direction i gave her every possible assurance that the tenderest friendship could suggest and i know not which of us was most agitated during this scene she owned her having lent my picture to lord lucan at his most earnest entreaty on condition that he should give her his that he had kept his promise but that she had been so unfortunate as to lose his gift and that she had lived in perpetual apprehension ever since lest any accident might betray this act of indiscretion to her uncle or to me but that she still more dreaded in injuring lord lucan by raising a suspicion of his being her lover when heaven and she could tell he had not such a thought her color rose to crimson as she pronounced the last sentence with classed hands and streaming eyes i never be held a more animated figure generous harriet i said softly to myself and my heart reverberated the sound what pains had it cost her to defend the fidelity of the man she loves to her rival yes fanny i will emulate the virtue i admire every effort of my life shall be exerted to promote harriet's happiness and from that pure and unsullied source i will endeavor to derive my own i confess i am pleased at being able to acquit lord lucan of this indiscretion of having made a confidant his picture must have fallen into the hands of colonel walter when harriet lost it and the vile artful wretch contrived to place it as a snare for me and watch the moment how to recover it for the innocent owner is now the question i cannot think of any prudent and therefore possible means of effecting this at present i can neither ask it as a favor with a safe condensation nor demand it as a right without danger the variety of distressful subjects with which my late letters have been filled have so much engrossed by thoughts while writing to you that i have never mentioned a circumstance which has given me sincere satisfaction the recovery of mr creswell lucy lester's lover his father is since dead by which he is now become sir harriet creswell my share and me a o come be they say boy you but delays the completion both of her own and her lover's happiness till i am able to be present at the joining of those hands whose hearts have long been united sir williams in disposition prevents me from having their neutrals celebrated here as the custom of this country would on the occasion require such an exertion of what is called hospitality which is another term for drinking as might be prejudicial to him and my attendance on him restrains me from going up to doublin to her so that our wishes alone can attend upon the happy union sir william is not calculated for solitude he is now debarred from field sports and every kind of exercise and he seeks for amusement from books in vain that taste which can alone render reading pleasant or useful to us must be acquired in youth the muses like the rest of their sex resent neglect and may be wooed but not won by those who only seek them as a supplement to more lively pleasures use the season made for joy and for literature also colonel walters housekeeper has been to visit benson several times of late and has endeavored with a competent share of art to discover how mrs walter has escaped and where she now is you may suppose that she has not gained the wished for intelligence benson would die sooner than betray me harry and i have often wondered that no hint relative to mrs walter has ever escaped the colonel i am sometimes tempted to think that he believes us ignorant of that affair but when i recollect his blushing in the temple upon some hint of mine relative to it i change my opinion what a heart must that man have how black and of course how wretched i am inclined to believe that the wicked expiat a great part of their sins in this world by their constant fear of detection sir arthur and miss ashford are often with us i begin to apprehend that she has a partiality for colonel walter and am distressed how to act on this occasion should i speak of him as i think she may attribute my sentiments either to private peak or a general love of slander as i am not at liberty to equate her with those facts on which my dislike to him are too justly founded yet will it not be an act of baseness to suffer this charming girl to throw away her affections on such a wretch think for me fanny and direct me how to conduct myself in this critical situation give a thousand loves and congratulations for me to my brother and his latest found heaven's last best gift wishes for their happiness must be superfluous yet they have mine most truly except the same from your ever affectionate sister louisa barton ps i find i cannot write a shorter letter to you when i begin this i determined not to exceed a page but like louise my heart still dictates and my hand obeys and wherefore should i restrain them or depart myself from the greatest satisfaction i enjoy i am not good catholic enough to have faith in the merits of a voluntary penances especially as i feel that i am not without my share of those that are imposed on us no works of super air gotation for me once more at you end of letter 49 recording by linda mary nielson thank uver bc