 Letter 15 of the history of Lady Barton. This is the LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ivan Yuan from Shanghai High School International Division. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffiths. Letter 15. Lord Lucan to Lord Hume. My dear Hume, your letter has relieved me from a thousand apprehensions which I suffered on your account. It is written in the true spirit of the heart at ease, which no man ever possessed that was thoroughly in love. And though you call me great and philosophic, I am much better pleased that your present attachment should be of the frolic than the serious kind. Most of our young men of fortune and fashion look upon a foreign mistress as a part of their traveling at Equipac. And I think Margarita as well qualified to fill up the train of Milord Angolis as any other of her sister Sirens of the Opera. I have seen her often and acknowledged her beauty, though I could gaze on her forever without feeling any other effect from her charms. But what might arise in my mind from contemplating her picture, yet I do not think her inanimate. On the contrary, she has great vivacity, both in her looks and manners, but alas she is totally devoid of sensibility, that first of female charms, her eyes are taught to languish, and every graceful moment of her form has been acquired in the school of art. Read the 37th and 50th year's letter of Ninon de Le Enclose to La Marguise de Sevigue. And they will help you to judge more justly, both of her and yourself. They are cases exactly in point. She lived with La Marguise, they reached me at Turing, where I was there. I knew him intimately. He adored Margarita, and was one of the handsomest and most amiable young men I ever met with. He died of a fever. I pitied Margarita from my soul, and about ten days after his death went to pay her a visit of Condolence, and was informed she had set out for Naples two days before with an English gentleman whose name was Williams. I am much too young to set up for a stoic or a cynic. I know, may I feel, all the weakness and follies of youth, yet I cannot help sinking that an attachment to a worthless woman is capable of debasing the noblest mind. Virtue, I fear, is not radical in human nature. A seed must be sown by precept, cherished by example, and cultivated by habit. But when the object of our affection has a distinct interest rather to extinguish, then inspire it. The general bias of our passions aided by the natural indolence of defecation and debauchery suffer the plant to wither in its bloom and less obliterate the truest character of manhood. On the contrary, let the most vicious man become truly enamored of a virtuous woman, and he will at least assume the semblance of those virtues he admires in her. And youth, as Hamlet says, can almost change the stamp of nature and master even the devil were thrown him out with wondrous potency. I find myself grown grave prematurely, for there is but one paragraph in your letter that I meant to answer seriously. You may easily guess. I mean the one where you speak of Miss Cleveland and seem to acquaint so entirely in your behavior towards her. And now I have entered upon the subject. I am at a loss to know how to treat it properly. I would fain per suede myself, you were but ingest. Yet surely it is wrong to trifle with the esteem of a friend by suffering me to suppose that you could possibly behave so unworthily to a woman of merit and honor. That legality and levity of your temper and your youth might render impossible, may probable. That you should change your affections and fees to love a mistress you once admired. I can readily believe but that you can suffer an amiable woman whom you both flattered and inspired with a serious passion for you to be informed of your inconsistency through so coarse a medium as rudeness and neglect. I will not, nay I cannot suppose. My friends know better what he owes to himself and to the world. I must be excused from replying to your queries, relative to the object of my passion except so far as to afford you some faith description of her beauty and merits. Her personal charms are so obvious that whoever views her do not wait to judge. They strike so subtly that we feel before we think the ecumencies of her character requires some refinement to become sensible of. One must have a nice discernment for natural beauties and a certain classic taste for the great symbol. Her mind is in such a state of perfect nature that she is not to be examined by the rule of common life. For her words, her actions, and her whole matters borrow a peculiar property from herself alone. She appears to be a sort of privileged genius of whom may be said with Milton. That was so ever she said or does, deemed widest, virtuous, discreetest, best. In others we may trade the mechanical finger of the nurse, the mother, the tutoress, or the priest. In her can be discovered, but one only forming hand even hates who made her. In fine, such beauties both of mind and person have inspired you till now insensible friend with the most tender, ardent, and hopeless love. Just ever yet possessed a human heart, and in my breast show that fond love lie ever buried, I think it will not cease even with my life, but death itself shall never force me to reveal my passion. Press me no farther on this theme, my friend, nor cast away your useless pity on me. For while I can behold her lovely form and gaze in silent rapture on her beauty, I am not wretched, may in those blissful moments I feel a sort of happiness I would not charge for all your joys with margarita. You may, very probably, have but an imperfect idea of that kind of passion, which I have described, but do not from sense unphilosophically conclude that it cannot exist in any heart, because you do not feel it in your own. This I know to be a common but erroneous mode of judging. We are all too apt to search in our own breath for the motives of other people's action, and when a want of sympathy, of sediment, prevents our discovering similar principles in ourselves, we are too often tempted to deny their existence in others. I have particularly warned you, my dear Hugh, on this subject, because I am certain I could fool, as easily forgive your doubting, my honor. With the undullied purity of my passion, I most sincerely wish you every pleasure that a life of frolic and gaiety can yield, but beware, my dear Hugh, of the thorns that grow spontaneously with the rose. Right to Miss Cleveland, I conjure you, and when your leisure will permit, bestow a few lines on yours sincerely. Lucan. End of Letter 15. Letter 16 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 16. Lord Hugh, to Lord Lucan, may I perish this moment, if ever I read such a letter. I shall begin to look upon Ovid's metamorphoses as a history of serious and natural events, and not be at all surprised if I should find myself lettering through the air in the form of a lap wing or a butterfly. Surely your transformation is still more miraculous, what Lucan, the gay, the lively Lucan, changed into a melancholy, timid, whining, love-sick swing. And death itself shall never force him to reveal his passion. Why, what, in the name of nonsense, must she be that has inspired it? If been blind, I suppose, for no woman that has ears and eyes, need ever be informed that a man is in love with her. In those cases, they are sharp-sighted as the links, and quick-eared as the mole. And I would lay a thousand guineas that your dulcineo was thoroughly informed of her conquest before you were even aware of it yourself. So why you are so cruelly bent upon not indulging her with the repetition of her triumph I cannot for my soul conceive? I have formed a million of conjectures about whom and what she is and have it length I quiesce in believing her to be the sanctified spouse of some Methodist teacher or Presbyterian person, for you have, according to your own plan, assumed the semblance of those virtues, which such a Puritan fare one might also pretend to. And so poor Margarita is compounded of art and wants the first of female charms sensibility. Beware, my friend, that your idol may not have one vice more, at least than mine, I mean hypocrisy, that Marquis de Richelieu is still remembered and regretted by Margarita, though she did not absolutely break her heart for his loss, as you may perhaps vainly imagine your dove-like dame, your sound trembler, whom nothing but the spirit come move would do for you. In short, you are welcome to make us free with me, as you please. The privilege is of friendship permitted, but neither its laws nor those of chivalry can pardon and affront or injury offered to the heroine of our romance. Besides you must be but a bad philosopher, Lucan, if you do not know that there is such a perverseness in human nature that the abusing mistress is the surest way of riveting the lover's chains. I'll be revenged and love her better for it. And so you are very angry that I have not written a full and true account of my inconstancy to Miss Cleveland, why how the devil can any man sit down to tell a woman that he no longer loves her, but is a proper measure, I owe it to myself and to the world. I repeat your words seriously herefore I think them just, and now you will forever oblige me, my dear Lucan, if you will do it for me, for may I die this moment if I am not so wholly illiterate in this noble science of defense, but I know not even how to set about it. On my honor, I both respect esteem and admire Miss Cleveland more than any woman in the world. However, the caprice of my heart may have rendered me capable of infidelity, and I most aboutly wish that I had a dress enough to explicate myself out of this unlucky business without sacrificing any more of my character than I fear is already forfeited. I cannot help smiling when you say, while I can behold her lovely form, etc., but I must acknowledge this to be the best, perhaps the only receipt in the world for ensuring our constancy. I'll frame it into a distitched extemporary for the help of memory. Your love would you preserve the same, still fan but never feed the flame. If you were at Rome instead of Dublin, I should swear that you were turned virtuoso and became enamored of Madame la venue de Medici or some other old-fashioned Marvel beauty, the world's a farce, and it is active thus, the bad imposed on others, the good deceived themselves. But happiness, the way we choose it, is sufficient for us all, and as you are so very reasonable in your option, they must be niggers indeed who would desire to deprive you of the least portion of it. Therefore, that you may long possess ideas is the complying wish of yours ever-ume. End of Letter 16. Letters 17-18 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 Ray Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. THE HISTORY OF LADY BARTON. By Elizabeth Griffiths. Letters 17-18 from Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland. Letter 17. Southfield, January 1st. I have this moment received my dear Fanny's last letter, though from the date I think I should have been in possession of it much sooner. Perhaps Sir William detained it, on purpose to deliver it to me on this day, as knowing it to be the most agreeable New Year's gift he could have presented me with. In return, then, my Fanny, accept my thanks and fevering prayer for your happiness. But I have something more substantial than wishes to contribute towards it, for I can with truth inform you that the little time I have spent here has passed away much more agreeably than any that has elapsed since I left Dover Street. To a mind not perfectly at ease, there is something extremely pleasing in the quietness of the country. It is like that artificial repose, which is acquired by opiates after long watching. Like that too, though it neither strengthens nor nourishes, it allows us time to recover our faculties, which are often as much harassed by living constantly in the midst of crowds, as our nerves are by an acute disease. I am very glad to find that Sir William loves the country and is particularly fond of this place, where nature seems to have exerted her utmost powers to please. If it is charming now, when stripped of all its ornaments, think what it will be. In summer shall re-deck it in its leafy pride and spread her gorgeous carpet or the planes. I look forward with the light to the happy era of your arrival here, which I hope will be early in spring, and as the Irish Parliament meet. But every second winter I propose spending the intermediate time of their recess in this sweet retirement, with my fanny, my Harriet, my books, music, drawing, planning, planting, and perhaps there may be a little interloper, who will, I trust. Increase both our pleasures and employments. My Lucy too will be near, if not with us. Our Colonel Water's house is about five miles from Hentz, and everything seems in great forwardness for his marriage with Mrs. Layton. I begin to flatter myself that he is really in love with the lady he is going to marry, for he talks of her incessantly, yet Lucy has remarked that he spends more of his time here than at Mr. Usher's, where Mrs. Layton is now upon a visit, though that is two miles nearer to Walter's Burl, that is the name of his seat than this. He is to give a magnificent ball at his house next week. He asked me last night to dance with him on that occasion, which I refused, as I thought he ought to shrew every bark of attention to his future bride. I shall not, however, dance with any other person, not so much on his account, as for a reason I have hinted at above. I fear you will chide me for not having mentioned my present situation to Sir William, as it is natural to suppose it would give him pleasure, and I indeed wish to do so, but there is something so indelicate in his matter of treating this subject that I have not yet been able to prevail upon myself to speak of it to him. Lord Lucen has been absent from us some days on a visit to Sir Arthur Ashford. They are both expected here this evening. I have great pleasure in observing that Lord Lucen is vastly more cheerful and seemingly at his ease than he was before we left Dublin. I think we are all so, which serves to illustrate your favorite opinion, as well as the latter part of your last letter, that air, exercise, and change of objects are of infinite use, both to the mind and body. From my not mentioning my brother till now, do not conclude that I have for a moment forgotten him or his griefs. They will live together in my memory to the last period of my existence. I cannot conceive why Mrs. Colville should wish to see Sir George, as she must be conscious of having done him an irreparable injury, as sure there is nothing on earth so formidable. As the sight of a person we have wronged, yet I earnestly wish that he knew his delias request, as the obeying it would afford him a very high, though a melancholy pleasure. Sad luxury to vulgar minds unknown, I wish too with you that he would go abroad. Do, my fanny, set him to search for your wanderer on the continent, and in the meantime do you take sanctuary in this island, which boasts a privilege of being free from all noisome animals. You may therefore at least promise yourself safety, if not delight among us. I am sorry for the change you mentioned in Mary Granville. Your charming vivacity would, I hoped, have assisted you in keeping up your spirits, under the treble pressure of my brothers, mine and your own distresses, which I begin to fear will soon outweigh ours, for I think that even the death of the object of our affections is more supportable than their unkindness. This hint is meant to arm you, for I confess that Lord Hume's silence has made me think he is in the high road of inconstancy, and I do most earnestly wish that you would endeavor to forget him and be happy. I have, my dearest sister, at your request, most seriously examined my heart, and will candidly equate you with its real situation, disfree from love, and thence in all its danger. O, why am I debarred, the chase indulgence of a virtuous passion? Why must a heart that overflows with tenderness have all its currents damned, like a poor river forced from its natural course? Am I to blame if it should steal away in useless, nay improper channels? But hitherto, my sister, all is safe, the man I most esteem, I have no passion for, nor feel a fonder warmth on mentioning his name, than my dear brothers, this surely is an innocent affection. Had I been his wife, but you have warned me not even to hazard, much less indulge such thoughts. Harriet is vastly happy at your predilection for her, and bids me offer you the second place in her heart. She kindly, and I believe at present truly says, I occupy the first. Yours is, I think, lightly to be the most permanent station, as I shall have many rivals to contend for mine, and happy will he be, who shall displace me. Lucy, who came hither with me, is this day gone to pay her respects to her aunt. But Mr. Usher's, we are to meet them at Waltersboro next Monday, and she is then to return with me to Southfield, where we have alas, but a very few days to spend, before we set out for Dublin. I shall truly regret the changing of the scene, but must obey. Sir William returns his affectionate compliments to my brother, and you, and was kind enough to say he wished you would both come over, and see how we live here. What is still more extraordinary, he seemed both surprised and concerned, when I told him of our dear Dalia's death, for he is sometimes tender when he is off his guard, so that I often flatter myself, that tis rather his manners, which are harsh, and not his nature hard. You see how I strive to soothe myself, and plead for him. He says he cannot be persuaded that she could die, in three days, unless it were of a French physician. Sir Arthur Ashford, his sister, and Lord Lucan, are, this moment, arrived. I have never seen the lady, but I hear she is extremely handsome. Grant heaven that Lord Lucan may think so. Now, Fanny, you can have no doubts or fears, adieu my sister, El Barton. Report does not always exaggerate, Miss Ashford is really beautiful. The ladies of this country are, in general, remarkably fair. But the whiteness of her skin surpasses any that I have ever seen. Her eyes are dark hazel, her hair jet black, which forms such a contrast to her neck and forehand, as images Shakespeare's simile, fairer than snow upon a raven's back. She is tall and thin, and though not elegantly made, appears perfectly gentile. While she sits still, but the moment she is thrown into motion, or emotion, she ceases to be lovely, a something more than want of grace accompanies her action, and every moment of her head or hands seems performed in opposition to nature. In short, she is the only young person I have ever seen, whom vivacity does not become. She seems sensible, mild, good-natured, and in every respect, qualified for making an amiable figure in still life. I am much pleased to find that Sir William is extremely hospitable to his country-neighbours, and likes to have company in his house. His tendency may doubtless be attended with some inconveniences, which I had rather submit to, than live unknown and unloved among one's tenants and dependents. It is their industry and labour which supports our affluence, and they certainly have a right to a certain share in our enjoyments, in proportion to their rank and situation. An accident that happened this morning had like to have triumphed over Sir William's good humour, which is not of the invincible kind. As we sat at breakfast, in a room that looks into the garden, I observed Miss Ashford's eyes fixed on a particular object in the walk before us. I thought she seemed surprised, and I naturally directed a look of inquiry to discover the occasion which was a little basket that appeared to move, though gently, of itself. The moment I mentioned this circumstance, the gentleman came to the window, and Lord Luke had flew directly into the garden, and explained the phenomenon by bringing the basket and its contents into the parlor, which was an infant, about a week old, clean, though poorly clad, with a paper pin to its breast, which said, this child has been baptized by its father's name, William. This circumstance disconcerted Sir William, who, after many unnecessary observations of his innocence upon this occasion, at which the whole company smiled, as they knew that he had been above a year out of the kingdom, determined to prove his virtue at the expense of his humanity by ordering the child to be again left in the garden where it was found, till the parish officers should come to take charge of it, and by commanding a strict search to be made for the mother, that she might be punished according to law. We all oppose the severity of this resolution, as the poor infant appeared almost perished with cold and hunger, but Sir William persisted in acting like an upright magistrate, according to the letter of the law, till Lord Luke declared that he was ready to adopt the little fountaling, and promised to take care of it for life, though his name was Thomas. Sir William then relaxed a little of his austerity, and gave vent to the remainder of it by attacking Lord Luke with all the coarse railery usual upon such occasions. I confess I was pleased with this instance of his lordship's humanity. I have seen many others, even in the short term of our acquaintance, yet at this instant I could wish to have robbed him of this little act of benevolence, and have transferred it to Sir William. There is a secret and involuntary sympathy that attaches us to generous minds. Our afflictions are insensibly riveted by esteem, and in that case we may defy even the power of time to break the charming tie. Oh, why am I not bound in such a chain, though you will see by my letter that I had nothing to say when I began to write? Yet as it is probable that I shall not have half an hour's leisure for some days to come, I have devoted the present moment to convince my fanny that she is never absent from my thoughts to inquire after hers and Sir George's health, and to assure her of the sincerest regard of her ever-affectionate L. Barton. End of Letters 17-18, Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, BC. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith Letter 19 Miss Cleveland to Lady Barton Distracted as I am with my own griefs, let me thank my dear sister for having removed some of those apprehensions which I had suffered on her account, and by that means leaving my heart as it should now be devoted to selfish, undivided sorrow. Lord Hume is false, Luisa. I am forsaken in the pride of youth, but for whom I know not. I cannot write, read the enclosed, then give the hateful scroll to the devouring flames. No, send it back. Alas, for what? The fatal lines are graved too deeply on my breaking heart. My brother set out for Paris last week. A second letter from Mrs. Colville, more ambiguous than the former, determined him. I am glad he is gone. I should have tried, but fear it would have been in vain, to hide my anguish from him, and he has griefs too weighty of his own to suffer me to add resentment to them. You say your heart is free from love, Luisa. Oh triumph in that blessed indifference! And no, you cannot taste the extreme of wretchedness without feeling a tender passion for an unworthy object. Ah, fond remembrance blinds me. If I were capable of joy, I should receive it from the hint you give, of your being soon likely to be blessed with a proper object for your utmost sensibility. Repine no more, my sister, but let the current of your fondness flow in this most natural and pleasing course, in the rich channel of maternal love. I entreat you to acquaint Sir William as soon as possible with this happy event. There are numberless reasons that render it proper. Those you urge against it are childish. Your situation must naturally increase his tenderness, and of course your happiness, which is all that can now diffuse the smallest gleam of satisfaction to your ever-affectionate F. Cleveland. P.S. I have this moment received a second letter from you, for which I return my thanks, but I'm not at present able to write more. End of Letter 19. Letter 20 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 20. Lord Hume to Miss Cleveland. Madam, a consciousness of error is, they say, the first step toward Reformation, but there are some cases in which we may be sensible of having done a miss, yet find it impossible to amend. This is certainly a very unpleasing situation and well worthy of pity from a generous mind. So, circumstance, I acknowledge myself and throw myself at your feet for pardon. Can you, Madam, rise so far above the unworthy man who asks it as to grant him your forgiveness while he confesses that the natural inconstancy of his sex and the mutability of his disposition have triumphed over a passion which was once his highest happiness and honor, and which he then thought would have been as permanent as his life? I cannot without descending to the meanness of a falsehood effect to suppose that I am indifferent to you. I know but too well that I was honored with a place in your affection, but I also know that Miss Cleveland has sense and resolution sufficient to conquer her regards for one who owns himself unworthy of it, humiliating confession. Let me, however, Madam, as a motive to your forgiveness plead the small and only merit that is in my favor than not having attempted to deceive you. I can now only add that notwithstanding the change of my affections rather than my sentiments, I shall ever retain the sincerest respect and if I may be allowed the expression, the tenderest esteem for Miss Cleveland to whom I have the honor to be a most devoted and obedient servant, Hume. End of Letter 20. Letter 21 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 Beth Thomas. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith. Letter 21. Miss Westley to Miss Cleveland. Waltersburg. How happy should I be, my dear Madam, in having the honor of paying my respects to you by letter and thanking you for the kind partiality you have expressed in my favor to my dear Aunt if her illness had not been the occasion of my writing? But don't be alarmed, Madam. She is at present out of danger, though still so weak as to be unable to write even to you. She was taken ill the day after she came here and miscarried the day following. How I grieve for the loss of my dear little cousin. He would have been a charming plaything for us all. You can't imagine how much my uncle has fretted about it. But though my poor dear Aunt has the most reason to be sorry, she bears everything with her usual sweetness of temper. But I need not expatiate on her gentleness to you who know her, for every creature who does must be charmed with her. Miss Lester, who was to have been here with us, was confined with a Quincy at Mr Usher's when my Aunt grew ill, but she came to us yesterday and the gentlemen are all gone to Dublin. It was intended that we should be very merry when we arrived here, but I never saw such a dismal house. I long to get back to Southfield, which I hope we shall be able to do in a few days. My Aunt desires me to assure you of her tenderest affection and says she will write the moment she can hold a pen. I hope my dear Miss Cleveland will not take an aversion to me for being the messenger of disagreeable news. But I believe that it would have afforded me this sincerest pleasure to have informed her that my Aunt was as well and happy as I know she has to be, and I most truly wish her. I have the honour to be, dear Madam, your much obliged and most obedient servant, Harriet Wesley. P.S., I don't know whether you are acquainted with Lord Lucan, but I can't help telling you that he had the misfortune to sprain his leg so that he could not dance or walk even the first day he came. There never was anything so unlucky as this party has been, for everyone has had something to distress them. Letters of Letter Twenty-One I should be unworthy of that regard which you seem inclined to show me if it were possible that I should conceive any dislike to you for acquainting me with our common misfortune. I mean the loss of our little cousin. However, as you assure me that my sister is at present out of danger, I think we may reasonably hope that our present loss may be repaired in future, and that we may yet have many pretty play things in which we shall be mutually interested. The sweetness of Lady Barton's temper must interest all who know her in her sufferings of any kind, and lessen even to herself the painful sensations arising from her present disagreeable situation, such as the potent power of gentleness. I have no doubt of your tender attachment to her. There is a natural sympathy between the good and amiable, which far exceeds the ties either of affinity or consanguinity. I have not the honour of knowing Lord Lucan, but I'm sorry for the accident he has met with, both for his sake and yours, as I fancy his lameness interfered with the amusement you propose to yourself in dancing. But we are all liable to disappointment, my young friend, and may this be one of the greatest that you shall ever experience. Assure my beloved sister of my fervent and unceasing wishes for her speedy recovery, and believe me to be my dear Miss Westley's affectionate friend and servant, F. Cleveland. 22. Letter 23 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 M. Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. The History of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith. Letter 23 from Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland. Woltersburg My dearest fanny, I lay hold of the first possible moment to calm your fears for my safety. I mean with regard to my health. Harriet, by my desire, has given you an account of the accident that befell me here. But she and all the world are strangers to the cause of it. But before I enter into a detail that must affect you, let me congratulate my dearest sister upon the timely discovery of Lord Hume's inconsistency. Rejoice, my fanny, that this worthless man is not your husband, and that you are now at liberty to indulge your resentment or contempt without a breach of duty. This, though you may not be sensible of it, is certainly an alleviation of the misery which arises from ill-placed love by time and your sense and virtue will. I hope enable you to triumph over any remain of weakness for such an unworthy object. Yet, contemptible as he is, I cannot help being pleased with his letter. Frankness always charms me, and, like charity, in my mind it covers a multitude of faults. Do not, from what I have said, imagine that I think lightly of your present distress. I am convinced that to a heart tender and good as yours it must be severe. But I also know that there are other situations much more intolerable, and I am almost tempted to exclaim with Lord Littleton, what are alas thy woes compared to mine? You shall be yourself the judge, and I will now proceed. Sir Arthur, Miss Ashford, Lord Lucan, Sir William, Harriet, and I sent out together for this place the Monday after I wrote to you, we were, to have met Mrs. Layton, Miss Leisture, the family of the Usher's and several other ladies and gentlemen of the neighborhood. The first mortification I received was hearing that my Lucy was ill of a sore throat, and could not come from Usher's grove, her aunt, and the rest of the family came, but were all to return after supper. I told you, in my last, that I had refused to dance with Colonel Walter. I was also asked by Lord Lucan, but desired to be excused, and entreated he would take Miss Ashford for his partner. He said he would obey me, and accordingly desired the honour of her hand, which she readily granted. About a quarter of an hour before the ball began, he unluckily strained his leg, and was not able to fulfil his engagement. Sir William, though not fond of dancing, was polite enough to supply his place, and Lord Lucan and I were reduced to play at Quadril, with a couple of dowagers and an old person. The evening, however, passed off very tolerably, and we retired to our chambers about twelve o'clock. The gentlemen had agreed to meet and hunt. The next morning, an eye determined to pay a visit to Lucy between breakfast and dinner that day, for the Colonel had insisted on not leaving him until the next. According to appointment with his companions of the chase, Sir William rose early and left me asleep. I had resolved not to equate him with my situation, till I returned to Sofield, as I knew that many coarse jests and commonplace sayings would pass on the occasion which I should wish to avoid, at all times, but especially before strangers. About eight o'clock in the morning, I was waked by a person who knelt at my bedside and pressed my hand to their lips. The chamber was dark. I could only distinguish that it was a man, and instantly concluded him to be Lord Lucan. From this circumstance only that I recollected Colonel Walter was to have rode out with Sir William. I strove to withdraw my hand, but could not, upon which I addressed him with the strongest expressions of surprise and resentment, at his having dared to take so unwarrantable a liberty, to which he answered only in a whisper, in treating me to forgive the effects of a passion too violent to be restrained. He then attempted to press his lips to mine, and when I was going to ring my bell I heard Sir William's voice upon the stairs and fainted. When I came to myself I found Miss Ashford, Sir William and Harriet, in the room, standing about my bedside. I suffered infinite anxiety at that instant, to know whether Sir William had found Lord Lucan in my chamber, and what had passed between them. Harriet and Miss Ashford were bathing my temples with lavender water, while Sir William held one of my hands between his, and as soon as he found that I was recovering, pressed it gently and withdrew, saying that he opposed ladies understood how to manage one another better, in such circumstances, then he, his calmness, amazed me. In short, the various emotions of my mind, for some time, are not to be expressed. I determined, on the instant, to return to Sofield directly, let the consequence be what it would, and never to suffer, Lord Lucan, to come into my sight again. But alas, when I attempted to rise, I found it impossible. The agitation of my mind had disordered my whole frame. My illness increased every moment. A messenger was dispatched for a physician, but before he could arrive, when Sir William was informed of my misfortune, he raved and stamped like a madman, said I must have designed to destroy his heir out of perversiveness, or I would certainly have acquainted him with my situation, while Heaven knows I would have given my own life, with pleasure to have saved my child. I continued in a state of such extreme weakness, for four days, that I saw no creature but Benson, who had been sent for express, the doctor and Harriet, who wept continually by me. I never can forget the dear girl's tenderness. On the fifth morning Sir William came into the room, and with an air of the utmost dissatisfaction, told me he was very sorry for the loss of his boy, but hoped I should do well, and as he could not be of it any use to a sick person, he had resolved to attend the meeting of Parliament, and should set out for Dublin with the Colonel and Lord Lucan directly, that as soon as I was able, I might either return to Southfield, or follow him to town as I like best, but that I need not be in a hurry to move, for his good friend had left orders that I should be well attended, as if I were in my own house, and that Lucy Laster was now recovered, and would come that day to Waltersburg to keep me company. He then gave me a cool kiss and withdrew. I rejoiced extremely, adhering that Lord Lucan was to go with Sir William, for though my life was at stake, I would not have remained in the same house with him after my husband had left it. Besides, it saved me the difficulty of an interview, which my poor weak brain had been studying to avoid, the whole time of my illness, yet I had doubts and fears that he might insolently have made a pretense to stay behind, till Benson assured me that he, till Benson assured me that she saw him set out, at the same time with Sir William and the Colonel, just as he was going off, he gave the enclosed note to Harriet to deliver to me as soon as I should be able to read it. The sweet girl could not conceal her emotion about it. She feared she had done wrong in receiving it, and, with her cheats covered with blushes, and her eyes filled with tears, she presented it to me, begging I would excuse her if she had acted improperly. I never was more embarrassed in my life than at that moment. I could have no doubt, but that his letter was filled with apologies for the audaciousness of his conduct, and to read it in some measure to admit of his excuses. But while I hesitated, Harriet, whose impatience seemed to be extreme, had broken the seal, and said, Shall I read it to you, madame? Luckily for me that part of the chamber I sat in was so much darkened by a large screen that she did not discover my confusion, therefore taking my silence for consent, she proceeded to read as follows. Two, Lady Barton, permit me, madame, to express those ardent wishes for your recovery, which I have never ceased to breathe to heaven from the first moment of your happiness. Wishes are pure as warm and as disinterested as brother's form for a beloved sister. I hope to have had the honour of seeing you before I leave Waltersburg, and I have many reasons to lament the loss of that happiness, but the cause which has prevented it is even more a subject of regret that the effect, and like Aaron's rod, has swallowed up all other considerations. May returning health await your couch, and may every happiness that heaven can grant to merit such as yours be as truly thine as the sincere respect and esteem of him who has the honour to be, madame, your ladyship's most obedient servant, Lucan. P.S., if it not be thought to presuming, I should request the favour of your permission for Miss Wesley to honour me with a line to inform me of your health. I never felt surprised more strongly than adhering this letter, and my amazement was rather increased by the trepidation and hurry of Harriet's voice and manner in reading it, who, on the instant she had finished, desired I would give her leave to write his lordship an account of my health by that very night's post. This I absolutely forbade, but in order to change the subject, I told her I would employ her in a more interesting correspondence, and desired she would immediately write to you. I confess to you, Fanny, that Lord Lucan's letter has puzzled me so much, that I sometimes think it impossible he could have been guilty of the insult I have charged him with, and not attempted to have made some apology for it. Yet who else could have dared to enter my chamber, or indeed, who else was in the house at that time? I am almost tempted to persuade myself, sometimes, that it was only a dream or vision that alarmed me. At other times my mind suggests some screw-polls to itself for not having acquainted Sir William with the affair, but then, in that case, I must have hazarded my husband's and some other person's life. Dreadful thought! No, let me rather suffer all that fate that inflict on innocence, that be the cause of one man's death or misery. The moment that Lord Lucan left the house, I felt as if a weight had been taken of my heart. I have grown better every hour since, and the company of my Lucy and Harriet makes me not regret the absence of any other person but yourself. For heaven's sake, my dearest Fanny, no longer deny me and yourself the indulgence of sharing my heart, and alleviating its anxieties. You have now nothing to detain you in England. My brother will most probably stay abroad some years. But I will not say more, for if your own inclination and my situation do not impel you, I would not wish that my persuasions or entreaties should compel you. I have been three days about this letter, and I think it high time to conclude, but must first acquaint you that the day Benson came here, she discovered a private door in my chamber, which leads to another apartment, through which I conclude that Lord Lucan had made both his entry and retreat, or else Sir William must have met him going out of my room at the time I fainted. Adieu, my Fanny, I will write to you as soon as I get to Sophfield, which will be at farthest in three days. Yours ever, El Barton. End of Letter 23, Recording by Linda Ray Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Letter 24, Miss Cleveland, to Lady Barton Why must I tell, my dear Louisa, that the contents of her letter abated the pleasure I received from seeing that her hand had superscribed it? This little circumstance gave me an idea of your perfect recovery, while the same characters on the inside trace out a tale of unhappiness and distress, and who can hope for health while the mind suffers? There is something very extraordinary in the adventure you have met with at Waltersburg, but your surmise on that occasion does not appear to me to have the least foundation. On the contrary, I would almost hazard any bet that Lord Lucan was incapable of treating you with such disrespect. It is impossible, I think, from the whole contour of his character to suppose that he could be guilty of such an outrage to decency and honour. Still more incredible to believe that he should never since have thought proper to offer any sort of excuse for such a behaviour, especially as he proceeded so far as to frame an opportunity to himself for doing so, by the respectful freedom of his letter to you. For an action too which was so unfortunate in its consequences to the woman he loves, for that he loves is but too obvious. Who then could it be? That indeed I must be at a loss to answer any more than yourself. I am half persuaded, and I wish I was entirely so, that it was only a dream. But be that as it may I think you are perfectly right in concealing the affair from Sir William, as the knowledge of it must have been fatal, at least to his repose and yours. I am very sorry that Sir William should have shown more regret for the loss of his son than concern for your illness. But parental fondness is, I fear, a stronger and more general affection in male minds than conjugal love. But indeed, my dear, you deserve a little mortification for your false delicacy in concealing your situation from him. So kiss the rod and have done whimpering, as we say to naughty children. I most earnestly wish that the business of Parliament had not called Sir William from home at this juncture. I long till he and you are settled in a domestic way at Southfield. I own, I am alarmed at a married woman's meeting with adventures of the novel kind, in the absence of her husband. The wife where danger or dishonor lurks, safest and seemliest by her husband's days, who guards her or with her the worst endures. To say truth, I think you are in almost as much danger as our fair mother, to whom these words were addressed, for there certainly is a serpent in the grass, somewhere, autour de vous. You have, however, the advantage of being warned of your danger, provided you construe the billet you sent me as its first whisper. And as a woman's best safety is found in retreat, I wish you would resolve to withdraw yourself from any further intimacy, either with Lord Lucan or Colonel Walter. Believe me, my Louisa. They are both dangerous intimates, though in a different way. I receive your congratulation, as I am sure it is meant. And though my mind is not yet strong enough to consider the discovery of Lord Hume's inconstancy as a subject for rejoicing at, yet I agree with you, that had this change in his affections happened after I had become his wife, the misfortune would have certainly been more insupportable. Though I cannot, even at present, avail myself of the resource you offer me, of hating or despising a man whom I once loved. The utmost I ever hope to arrive at is to be able to speak of my affection for him in the past tense only. And the most effectual way to arrive at that end is to mention him as little as possible for the future. I hope your next letter will inform me of your returning health and happiness. I need the assistance of them both to support my present wretchedness. May they long attend my beloved sister, sincerely praise her affectionate F. Cleveland. Please letter 24. Letter 25 of the history of Lady Martin. List at the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Ivan Yuan from Shanghai High School International Division. The History of Lady Martin by Elizabeth Griffith. Letter 25. Lord Lucan to Lord Hume. Dear Hume, I should be extremely pleased if I could, like you, consider the transformation of Ovid as a series of serious and natural events for as I have for some time past become extremely weary of my present form or mode of existence. I should be inclined to flatter myself that any change must be for the better. But lamenting psychosis of Pythagoras would suit me still better than the metamorphosis of Ovid. I should like to carry my identity with me into whatever being my spirit was appointed to animate as I think the consciousness of the sufferings I now endure would render any state except that of a ferocious animal agreeable to me. But to be serious I have been for some months past uncommonly wretched. The fate of her who is the avatar of mine hung for an age in doubtful balance. I never knew the extreme of misery till then for alas, I had never before given myself to leave to think she was mortal. Yet Hume, all that I loved in life was near the grave and I sustained the shock like a philosopher. I sighed and wept in secret. While to the world I wore the spacious mask of mere humanity. This was as much as I had power to do and he that says philosophy can go beyond this mark and teaches not to feel. Mistakes is use and makes store apathy usurp its place. I don't know that ever I felt so much pleasure in writing as at this moment it certainly relieves our oppression to unburden our hearts and you are my only confidant. This declaration might appear strange to you who know so little of the particulars of my attachment. But when I affirm that no person breathing knows so much not even the dear object of it. You may accept the title. From your last letter which I have read over several times I have collected two things which give me sincere pleasure but will surprise you extremely the first is that you endeavor to persuade yourself that you love Margarita much better than you really do and the second that you not only respect and esteem but still love Miss Cleveland. I hope you have written to her Hume every woman of worth and honor has and ought to have a proper pride neglect is therefore the most unpardonable of all offenses that a man can commit I speak of men not Bruce rudeness is of course out of the question I was extremely diverted at the many ridiculous ideas you formed of the objects of my passion but let's be assured of and let it satisfy you that neither her mind or body have been perverted by any kind of art but as she is at this instant the most perfect work of the great and universal artist that I have ever yet to be held though perhaps she may not have struck you for you have seen her with the same idea of perfection I perfectly agree with you that the word happiness has as many various meanings as there are tempers and constitutions in the world to confine and therefore to any taste passion or mode of life would be just as absurd as to drain your ponds that your fish may fly and flood your aviaries that your birds may swim be it therefore unto you as you have wished it unto me that is as you chose it adieu my dear Hume you are most trusty Lucan. End of letter 25 letter 26 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 26 Lord Hume to Lord Lucan Venice I have often told you my dear Lucan that I never trouble myself to investigate causes for anything that happens effects are enough for me so that whether your transmogrification be according to the Ovidian or Pythagorean system is of no sort of consequence for transmogrified you are to all intents and purposes you may divert yourself with looking for the etymology of that word that though I don't believe you will be able to find its derivation in any dictionary it is a devilish good one for all that and truly expressive of my meaning why my dear metamorphosed friend you had nothing of the Catala strain in you while you lived among us here but there are peculiar disorders incident to certain climates and in heavy atmosphere makes people draw their breath in size fly then for your life my dear patient and take the air of the world once more among us again before your ailment has confirmed itself into a platonic asthma in the bogs of Ireland you have puzzled me to the last line of a riddle by saying that I have often seen your lesbian pretty be good natured Lucan until and where for guessing is rather troublesome there can be no sort of danger in letting me know who she is as you are already convinced that I don't like her or if I did may I perish if I would attempt to rival my friend with any woman breathing you may therefore be perfectly safe in making me a real confident instead of a nominal one Margarita and I have been here this fortnight and in that time we have contrived to lose a good round some at play she thinks we have been over matched about the Venetians and wants to try our fortune at Rome but I must wait for remittances from England before I can make this or any other experiment of the kind you are mistaken Lucan I love Margarita most truly and what is much more extraordinary my affection for her rather increases than abates I've myself been made sensible of this though not in the most agreeable manner thrive lately felt somewhat of that hydro of calamity's jealousy and this though I am perfectly satisfied that my sweet girl gave me no sort of cause on her part and would not quit me for an emperor tell me my heart if this be loved you are in some measure right with regard to my sentiments for Fanny Cleveland I certainly do most thoroughly esteem her and have given the strongest proof of my having and high opinion of her understanding by writing a very foolish letter acknowledging myself what I dare say your wise worship already thinks me a very silly fellow I don't know but as you say I may love her too that is according to your plan of loving but I have no idea of that sort of passion which can admit a doubt or allow us time to reason about the core of the matter let me be charmed my senses captivated and that reason go to the schools if it will I never founded of any use but to torment me I'm all impatient for my remittances I don't like this place nor does Margarita though she has a number of relations here brothers and cousins by the dozen but they are all priests and I am apprehensive that some of these in fatuates may persuade her to quit me and lock her up in a convent the dear girl sometimes alarms me much by talking religiously but if I can get her to Rome once there will be an end to these fears where I am told that there is not even the shadow of devotion there it is now two o'clock at noon and Margarita has not yet blessed my eyes I fear she is not well I must go to inquire her health I hope your bear one is recovered do tell me all about her next direct to me at Rome I forget where but to the care of your former banker adio mio caro amico in in the letter twenty six letter twenty seven 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 Marie Nielsen Vancouver BC the history of Lady Barton by Elizabeth Griffith letter twenty seven from Lady Barton to Miss Cleveland Southfield thank heaven my dearest Fanny I have at last escaped out of that worse than lion's den that detestable Colonel Walter's house on the day after I wrote last to you as the weather was remarkably fine for the season I insisted on Lucy and Harriet's going out to take the air and in order to harden myself for my removal I ventured into the room adjoining mine which is a very large and handsome library that since the colonel went to Dublin she had sometimes seen a beautiful little girl of four years old running about the house but that the child could not speak English and that the servants were extremely ill natured to the poor baby who used to weep when she could not make herself understood that she was perfectly engaging in her manner I wanted to take a liking to Benson that she had inquired as much as was proper who the child belonged to and was constantly answered that they knew nothing more of her than that she was one of their master's importations upon this report I confess that I felt my relationship to Dane Eve very strongly and desired Benson to bring the child to me the first opportunity she accordingly led her by the hand into the library on the day I have mentioned but the moment the child saw me she would have fled and exclaimed in French oh my papa will kill me I replied to her in her own language and assured her that no harm should happen to her she smiled upon me was I a French woman if I was she would love me dearly for all the people in this place she said were cross and cruel except her poor mama that she believed was dying then she hit her face with her little hands and first into a passion of tears I need not tell you how I was affected she became instantly sensible of my tenderness and suffered Benson to lead her to me and set her on my knee but though she leaned her head upon my neck and seemed pleased with my caresses I could perceive that fear predominated over every other sensation by her eyes being constantly directed to the door and her appearing alarmed at every noise I asked her where her mama was she paused for a few moments and then replied I was not forbidden to tell that she is above stairs lying upon her bed and that bed is on the ground we don't lie so in France the innocence and sensibility of her remark quite overcame me she took my handkerchief and dried my eyes then said pray don't you don't sleep upon the ground nor anyone else I believe except my poor mama again I kiss the lovely little Prattler I desired her to tell her mama that I should be glad to see her she shook her head and said that was impossible for her mama was too sick to come out of her room but if she were well she must not disobey her papa and he had commanded her never to stir out while she lived then said I my dear I will go up to her she answered quick no no that cannot be the servants would tell my papa I asked her would she carry a letter to her mama she said yes I then asked her mama's name and she answered the Olivier I instantly sat down and wrote in French which what follows Madame de Olivier Madame I have this day seen and conversed with your lovely daughter and from her innocent yet sensible discourse I have learned that you are ill and unhappy I have reason to apprehend that the treatment you have received from a gentleman of this country may naturally prejudice you against all its inhabitants but let me assure you that humanity and justice are the real characteristics of this nation and that if you stand in need of either you may depend on meeting them in the highest degree both from our manners and our laws I beg leave now Madame to offer you any assistance that is in the power of an individual of your own sex of some rank and consideration in this country who will esteem a very great happiness if she can be in any way serviceable to the injured or oppressed and who most commonly assures you that whatever confidence you are pleased to repose in her shall never be made use of but to your own advantage as it is not curiosity but compassion that inclines her to interest herself in your concerns if you think an interview with the writer of this proper please to contrive the means and she will most readily concur with your design as she is possessed of the sincerest inclination though unknown to you to do everything that may be in her power for your service and is with great truth your unknown friend El Barton the child carried away the billet and returned in less than ten minutes to tell me that her mama has neither pen ink or paper but if I would be so good to have her have them she would write an answer immediately and in the meantime returned me a thousand thanks for the honor of my letter the dear little Olivia took my hand kissed it and said she was sure she should love me for she thought I had done her mama good already I immediately furnished her with my own part fuel which contained all the necessary implements for writing and waited not without some degree of impatience to have this mystery explained Lucy and Harriet returned from their airing soon after this adventure but I did not think it proper to mention the affair to them till I was more fully informed myself I heard nothing farther of the child or the mother till I retired into my bed chamber and then Benson gave me a letter in French which I sin you enclosed to Lady Barton madame no words can adequately express my sense of your goodness to me but my gratitude shall while I have life be poured forth in fevering prayers for your happiness this alas is the soul return that I can make to heaven or to you whose blessed instrument I am sure you are to speak peace and comfort to a dying wretch and smooth her passage from this veil of misery on madame may you never know the transports I receive from reading your dear letter they can only be felt by one equally unhappy with me if such another wretch there be on earth who long denied the blessings of society the barred even the power of speaking to be understood should have an angel come and utter the words of comfort and compassion forgive me madame but I cannot help considering you as a superior being sent to the relief of a misery like mine oh may you think so too and ease my last sad moments of their sharp pangs it is not for myself I plead but for my innocent my unoffending child receive a more than orphan to your care and my last sigh shall waft my thanks to heaven even the short story of my misfortunes is much too long for my weak hand to write but if you will permit me madame to throw myself at your feet when all the family are retired to rest and condescend to lend an ear to my sad tale I will relate it with the same truth and frankness as I would to my confessor you shall supply that solace long denied me and from your gracious lips I hope for absolution I have now no terms to keep with carnal Walter the our approaches that must dissolve all the engagements that ever were between us how he has fulfilled his part of them heaven and his own heart can tell but even in my death I would not wish to offend him and were there not a much dear concern than my own life at stake I would conceal his unkindness to the last moment of my existence would suffer my wrongs to be buried with me and sleep forever in the silent grave but my Olivia my lovely little babe pulls at my heartstrings and can I then decline the offer of your kindness and not strive to interest your compassion for her future feet impossible circumstance as I am the mother must prevail over every other tie I therefore again entreat the honor of being admitted to your presence this night I will come softly down the back stairs that join to the library and their weight till your woman shall conduct me to you in the meantime and ever allow me to subscribe myself with the most heartfelt gratitude your lady shits most obliged and devoted servant Olivia Walter judge of my feelings at reading this letter by your own but though I know you will be displeased at my quitting the story here I must break off as the post is going out and I cannot send this without telling you that I have no remains of my late in disposition but weakness peace of mind and exercise will I hope soon restore my former strength tomorrow my fanny I will indulge you with the remainder of this affecting narrative till then adieu L. Barton End of letter 27 recording by Linda Marie Nielsen Vancouver B.C.