104 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and accent, “ That it was her highest ambition
“ to make them happy.”

“ Then I do not doubt, my child, said Mrs.
“ Darnley, but you will employ all your good sense
“ to secure the conquest you have made.”

Sophia, melted almost to tears by these tender
expressions, to which she had been so little used,
affured her mother she would upon this occasion
act so as to deferve her kindneſs.

Mrs. Darnley would have been better pleased
if she had been left reserved, and had appeared
more affected with the fine prospect that was open-
ing for her; but it was not possible to preſs her far-
ther. Nature here had transferred the parent's
rights to the child, and the gay, imprudent ambi-
tious mother, flocked awed and abashed, in he pre-
fence of her worthier daughter.

Sophia, who expected Sir Charles would renew
his visit in the evening, past the rest of the day in
uneasily perturbations. He entered the house just
at the time that Harriot, who had ordered a chair
to be got for her, came fluttering down the stairs
in full dres. As soon as she perceived him her
cheeks glowed with resentment; but affecting a
carelefs inattention, she shot by him with a half
courteely, and made towards the door: he followed,
and accoſting her with a grave but respectful air,
desired she would permit him to lead her to her
chair. Harriot, conveying all the fcorn into her face
which the expression of her pretty but unmeaning fea-
tures were capable of, and rudely drawing away her
hand, “ Pray, Sir, said she, carry your devores where
“ they

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ they will be more acceptable; I am not dispoſed
“ to be jeſted with any longer.”

Sir Charles, half smiling and bowing low, told her,
that he reſpected her too much, as well upon her own
account as upon Mifs Sophia's, for whom indeed
he had the moſt tender regard, to be guilty of the
impertinence ſhe accuſed him of.

Harriot did not ſtay to hear more: offended in
the higheſt degree at the manner in which he
mentioned Sophia, ſhe darted an angry look at him,
and ſlung herſelf into her chair.

It muſt be confefſed that Sir Charles diſcovered
upon this occafion a great ſhare of that eaſy confi-
dence which people are apt to derive from ſplen-
did fortunes and undiſputed rank; but as he wanted
neither good ſenſe, generofity, nor even delicacy,
he would have found it difficult to own to a lady
whom he had been uſed to addreſs in the ſtyle of a
lover, that his heart had received a new impreſſion,
if the contemptible character of Harriot had not
authoriſed his deſertion of her. Pride, ignorance,
folly, and affectation, ſink a woman so low in the
eyes of men, that they eaſily diſpenſe with them-
ſelves from a ſtrict obſervance of thoſe delicate at-
tentions, and reſpectful regards, which the ſex in ge-
neral claim by the laws of politeneſs, but which
ſenſe and diſcernment never pay to the trifling
part of it.

Sir Charles was likewife glad of an opportunity
to ſhew Mifs Darnley, that he did not think the
little gallantry which had paffed between them,
entitled her to make him any reproaches; or to
confider the paſſion he profeſſed for her ſifter as an
in-

106 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

infidelity to her; and now finding himself more at ease from the frank acknowledgment he had made, he sent up his name, and was received by Mrs. Darnley with all the officious civility she was used to shew him.

Sophia was in the room, and rose up at his entrance in a sweet confusion, which she endeavoured to conceal, by appearing extremely busy at a piece of needle-work.

Sir Charles, after some trifling conversation with her mother, approached her, and complimented her with an easy air upon her being so usefully employed, when most other young ladies were about in search of amusement.

Sophia, who was now a little recovered, answered him with that wit and vivacity which was so natural to her; but looking up at the same time, she saw his eyes fixed upon her with a look so tender and passionate, as threw her back into all her former confusion, which encreased every moment by the consciousness that it was plain to his observation.

The young baronet, though he was charmed with her amiable modefty, yet endeavoured to relieve the concern he saw her under, by talking of indifferent matters, till Mrs. Darnley seeing them engaged in discourse, prudently withdrew, when he instantly addressed her in language more tender and particular.

Sophia, shocked at her mother's indiscretion, and at his taking advantage of it so abruptly, let all the weight of her resentment fall on him; and the poor lover was so awed at her frowns, and the

far-

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

farcaſtic raillery which ſhe mingled with exprefſions that ſhewed the moſt invincible indifference, that not daring to continue a diſcourſe which ofſended her, and in too great concern to introduce another ſubject, he ſtood fixed in ſilence for ſeveral minutes, leaning on the back of her chair, while ſhe plied her needle with the moſt earneſt attention, and felt her conſuſion decreaſe in proportion as his became more apparent.

At length he walked flowly to the other end of the room, and taking up a new book which he had ſent her a few days before, he aſked her opinion of it in a faultering accent; and was extremely morſtified to find ſhe was ſo much at eafe, as to anſwer him, with all the readineſs of wit and clearneſs of judgment imaginable.

Another paſſe of ſilence enfued, during which Sophia heard him ſigh ſoftly ſeveral times, while he turned over the leaves of the book with ſuch rapidity as ſhewed he ſcarce read a ſingle line in any page of it.

He was thus employed when Mrs. Darnley returned, who ſtood ſtaring firſt at one, then at the other, ſtrangely perplexed at their looks and ſilence, and apprehenſive that all was not right. Sophia now took an opportunity to retire, and met an angry glance from her mother as ſhe paſſed by her.

Her departure rouſed Sir Charles out of his recovery, he looked after her, and then turning to Mrs. Darnley, overcame his diſcontent ſo far as to be able to entertain her a quarter of an hour with his ufual politenefs; and finding Sophia did not appear again, he took his leave.

As

108 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

As soon as he was gone Mrs. Darnley called her daughter, and chid her severely for her rudeness in leaving the baronet.

Sophia defended herself as well as she could, without owning the true cause of her diffluence, which was her mother's so officiously quitting the room; but Mrs. Darnley was so ill satisfied with her behaviour, that she complained of it to her friend Mr. Herbert, who came in soon afterwards, telling him that Sophia's pride and ill temper would be the ruin of her fortune.

The good man having heard the story but one way, thought Sophia a little to blame, till having an opportunity to discouirse with her freely, he found the fault she had been charged with, was no more than an excess of delicacy, which was very pardonable in her situation: he warned her, however, not to admit too readily apprehensions injurious to herself, which was in some degree debasing the dignity of her sex and character; but to make the baronet comprehend that efteeming him as a man of honour, she considered his professions of regard to her as a claim upon her gratitude; and that, in consequence, she should without any reluctance receive the commands of her mother, and the advice of her friends in his favour.

Poor Sophia found herself but too well dispoised to think favourably of Sir Charles; her tenderneſs had suffered greatly by the force she had put upon herself to behave to him in so difobliging a manner, and the uneaſineſs she faw him under, his ſilence, and confusion, and the ſighs that eſcaped him, apparently without deſign, had affected her ſenſibly, and

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and several days pausing away without his appearing again, she concluded he was irrecoverably prejudiced against her; the uneasefuls this thought gave her, first hinted to herself the impression he had already made on her heart.

Sir Charles indeed had been so much piqued by her behaviour as to form the resolution of seeing her no more; but when he supposed himself most capable of perfifting in this resolution, he was near-east breaking through it, and suddenly yielding to the impulse of his tendernefs, he flew to her again more passionate than ever; this little absence having only served to show him how necessary she was to his happiness.

When Sophia saw him enter the room, the agitations of her mind might be easily read in her article's countenance; a sentiment of joy for his return gave new fire to her eyes, and vivacity to her whole person; while a consciousness of the effect his preference produced, and a painful doubt of his sincerity, and the rectitude of his intentions, alternately dyed her cheeks with blushing and paleness.

The young baronet approached her trembling, but the unexpected softness with which she received him, increasing at once his passion and his hopes, he poured out his whole soul in the tenderness and most ardent projections of love, esteem, and admiration of her.

Sophia listened to him with a complaisant attention; and having had sufficient time, while he was speaking, to compose and recollect herself; she told him, in a modeft but firm accent, that she was obliged to him for the favourable opinion he entertained

110 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

tained of her; but that she did not think herself at
liberty to hear, much less to answer to such discourse
as he had thought proper to addressto her, till she had
the function of her mother's consent, and Mr. Her-
bert's approbation, whose truly parental regard for
her, made her look upon him as another father, who
supplied the place of him she had lost.

Sir Charles, more charmed with her than ever,
was ready in his present flow of tender sentiments
for her, to offer her his hand with an unrefused-
nefs that would have satisfied all her delicatefcru-
ples; but carried away by the force of habit, an
infurmountable aversion to marriage, and the falfe
but strongly impreffed notion of refinements in a
union of hearts, where love was the only tye, he
could not resolve to give her a proof of his affection,
which in his opinion was the likelieft way to deftroy
all the ardor of it; but careful not to alarm her,
and apprehending no great ſeverity of morals from
the gay intereſted mother, he politely thanked her
for the liberty ſhe gave him to make his paſſion
known to Mrs. Darnley, and to folicit her confent
to his happineſs.

Sophia observed with some concern, that he af-
fected to take no notice of Mr. Herbert upon this
occasion; but she would not allow herself to dwell
long upon a thought so capable of raſing doubts
injurious to his honour; and satisfied with the frank-
neſs of his proceeding thus far, she suffered no
marks of discontent or apprehension to appear in
her countenance and behaviour.

Sir Charles did not fail to make such a general
declaration of his ſentiments to Mrs. Darnley as he
thought

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

III

thought sufficient to satisfy Sophia, without obliging himself to be more explicite; and in the mean time, having acquired a thorough knowledge of Mrs. Darnley's character, he fought to engage her in his interest by a boundlefs liberality, and by gratifying all those passions which make corruption easy. She loved diffipation; and all the pleasures and amusements that inventive luxury had found out to vary the short scene of life were at her command; she had a high taste for the pleasures of the table, and therefore the most expensive wines, and choicest delicacies that earth, sea, and air could afford, were constantly supplied by him in the greatest profusion. No day ever passed without her receiving some considerable present, the value of which was enhanced by the delicacy with which it was made.

The innocent Sophia contrued all this munificence into proofs of the sincerity of his affection for her; for the young baronet, whether awed by the dignity of her virtue, or that he judged it necessary to secure the success of his designs, mindled with the ardor of his projections, a behaviour so respectful and delicate, as removed all her apprehensions, and left her whole soul free to all the tender impressions a lively gratitude could make on it.

Mr. Herbert, however, easily penetrated into Sir Charles's views; he saw with pain the progress he made every day in the affection of Sophia; but by the speciousness of his conduct, he had established himself so firmly in her good opinion, that he judged any attempt to alarm her fears, while there seemed

so.

112

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

so little foundation for them, would mis its effect;
and not doubting but ere it was long her own
observation would furnish her with some cause for
apprehension, he contented himself for the present
with keeping a vigilant eye upon the conduct of
Sir Charles and Mrs. Darnley, and with being
ready to affront Sophia in her perplexities, whenever
she had recourse to him.

The change there was now in the situation of
this amiable girl, afforded him many opportunities
of admiring the excellence of her character: she who
formerly used to be treated with neglect and even
harshness by her mother, was now distinguished with
peculiar regard; her opinion always submitted to with
deference, her inclinations consulted in all things,
and a studious endeavour to please her was to be seen
in every word and action of Mrs. Darnley's, who
affected to be as partially fond of her as she had
once been of her sister.

Even the haughty insolent Harriot, keeping her
rage and envy concealed in her own breast, con-
descended to wear the appearance of kindness to her,
while she shewed with her mother in all those gra-
tifications which the lavish generosity of Sir Charles
procured them, and which Sophia, still continuing
her usual simplicity of life, could never be per-
fuaded to partake of. Yet all this produced no
alteration in Sophia; the fame modesty and humi-
lity, the fame sweetness of temper, and attention to
oblige, distinguished her now as in her days of
oppression.

Mr.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

113

Mr. Herbert contemplated her with admiration and delight, and often with astonishment reflected upon the infatuation of Sir Charles, who could allow himself to be so far governed by fashionable prejudices, and aeskirtline turn of mind, as to balance one moment whether he should give himself a lawful claim to the affections of such a woman.

Affairs continued in this state during three months, when the good old man, who watched over his young favourite with all the pious solicitude of her guardian angel, perceived that she was grown more melancholy and reserved than usual; he often heard her sigh, and fancied she had been weeping, and her fine eyes would appear sometimes suffused with tears, even when she endeavoured to appear most chearful.

He imagined that she had something upon her mind which she wished to disclose to him; her looks seemed to intimate as much, and she frequently fought opportunities of being alone with him, and engaged him to pass those evenings with her when her mother and sister were at any of the public entertainments. Yet all those times, though her heart seemed labouring with some secret uneasiness which she would fain impart to him, she had not resolution enough to enter into any explanation.

Mr. Herbert, who could have wished she had been more communicative, resolved at length to spare her any farther struggles with herself; and one day when he was alone with her, taking occasion to observe that she was not so chearful as usual, he asked her tenderly if any thing had happened to give her uneasiness; shepeak freely my child, said

Nº. II.

I

he

114 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

he to her, and think you are speaking to a father.

Sophia made no other answer at first than by burfting into tears, which feeming to relieve her a little; she raised her head, and looking upon the good man, who beheld her with a fixed attention. " May I hope fir: said she, that you are " still dispoſed to fulfil the kind promise you once " made me---Oh take me from hence, purſued " she, relapsing into a new paſſion of tears, place " me in the fituation to which my humble lot has " called me; fave me from the weakneſs of my " own heart---I now fee plainly the deluſion into " which I have fallen; but, alas! my mother does " not fee it---every thing here conſpires againſt my " peace."

[To be continued.]

AN

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

115

AN

ACCOUNT

OF THE

VESTAL VIRGINS.

NUMA Pompilius, the second king of Rome, a man of great virtue, piety, and wisdom, is considered as author of the vestal institution; though there were vestals before his time, and even so early as the settlement of Eneas in Italy, who, we are told, placed the palladium, an image of Pallas so called, which he had brought with him from Troy, in the temple of Vesta, and committed it to the care of the virgins dedicated to the service of that goddeſs, who from her name were called vestals. But it was Numa who gave a form to this institution, and regulated the miniftry and office of the order.

That prince confined the number of the vestals to four; two more were afterwards added by Tarquinius Prifcus, one of his ſucceſſors, and that number continued unaltered.

Numa committed to these virgins the keeping of the immortal fire, and the palladium, with the care of certain ſecret ſacrifices in the worſhip of the

I 2

god-

116 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

goddesses Vesta. They vowed chafity during the
space of thirty years that they attended on the
service of the goddesses; the age of admission was
above fix, and under ten, and they were to be with-
out any corporal blemish.

The ten first years were a kind of noviciate or
probation, when they were instructed in all the fa-
cred mysteries; the next ten were passed in the
practice of them, and the last ten in teaching the
novices.

This term being expired, they were free to
quit the order, to lay aside the distinctions of it
and to marry; but very few, it is said, made use
of this liberty, terrified with frequent examples of
the unhappy end attending those who changed
their condition.

Very great privileges and marks of distinction
were at several times granted to the vestals. They
had a right to make a will during their father's
life, and to dispose of their fortunes, without a
trustee; for the Roman women were always under
guardianship: they were forbid to take an oath,
and in courts of justice their evidence was admit-
ted upon their bare affirmation.

When they appeared in public, a lictor attended
them with the falces; and if a vestal in her walks
happened to meet a criminal leading to execution,
he was pardoned upon her declaring that the meet-
ing was accidental. They had a distinguished
rank and place of honour assigned them in the cir-
cus, and at other public fests, and were educated
and maintained at the expence of the common-
wealth.

But

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

117

But if great honours were paid to the dignity and
virtue of the vestals, their faults were also punished
with equal severity. The faults thus punishable
were either negligence of their duty, in suffering the
Sacred fire to go out, or incontinence in violating
their vow of chastity.

In the first cafe, which was looked upon as the
fign of some great calamity to the state, the guilty
vestal was punished as a slave, that is, with scourg-
ing; covered only with a veil, she was whipped
with rods by the Pontifex Maximus, or chief
priest. One of the vestals spent the whole night
by the Sacred fire, to prevent its extinction, and
watched thus each in turn. When the fire was
out, it was to be rekindled by the rays of the sun,
the manner of which is variously related.

The great crime of the vestals was the violation
of their vow of chastity; and this was punished
in a manner not to be described without horror.
They were buried alive. Near the Colline gate,
fays Plutarch, there is a little vault, with a hole to
go down to it; in the vault there is a bed, a lighted
lamp, and a small quantity of provisions, confifting
of a loaf, a pitcher of water, a vial of oil, and a pot
of milk: these are provided for the criminal, that
religion may not be wounded by starving to death
a person consecrated with the most august and fa-
cred ceremonies. Strange scruple! they feared
to starve her whom they buried alive.

The offender was put into a close and covered lit-
ter, that her piercing fingers might not be heard, and
carried in that manner through crowds of people
croes the forum. At the fight of the litter, all made

way

118 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

way for it to pafs, and followed it in awful silence,
and all the marks of the deepeſt forrow. There
could not be a more horrible ſpectacle, nor a more
dreadful or melancholy day for Rome, than that
on which a veſtal was carried to execution.

When the litter was come to the place of puniſh-
ment, the lictors took off the covering and opened
it; then the pontifex maximus, after ſome private
prayers, with hands and eyes lifted up to heaven,
took out the unhappy criminal, all cloſely veiled,
and ſet her on the ladder, by which ſhe was to de-
ſcend into the vault: after which, he returned with
the other prieſts; and the wretched veſtal was no
fooner down, but the ladder was removed, and the
hole filled up with earth till the ground was even,
and no ſign of a grave remained, to intimate that
the criminal was deemed unworthy to appear either
among the dead or the living.

By this terrible execution is ſeen what notions
the heathens themſelves entertained concerning the
breach of chaſtity; and their fear of its drawing
down the curſe and vengeance of the Gods upon
the whole ſtate, if it remained unpunifhed. To
avoid ſuch a fatal calamity, the veſtals were exhort-
ed not only to fly with horror from every tempta-
tion to guilt, but to avoid with the utmoſt care
whatever could caſt the leaſt blemiſh on their re-
putation.

Poſthumia, a veſtal, having ſubjected herſelf to
unfavourable ſuspicions, on account of her too great
folicitude in drefs, and gaiety of manners, unbe-
coming the ſacred purity of a virgin, was called
to her trial. After a long examination ſhe was pro-

noun-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

nounced innocent; but the pontifex maximus commanded her to quit those gay airs for the future, and to shew in her drefs more wisdom and modefty than elegance and taife.

The 638th year of Rome gives us an example of corruption among the veftals, never heard of before. In preceding times it rarely happened that a veftal violated her vow of chaftity, and the day of her punifhment was a day of universal mourning at Rome. But this year, of the fix veftals, three were proved criminal, two of which loſing all ſenſe of fear as well as ſhame, had almost publicly aban- doned themſelves to diſſolute practices.

The miſchief was begun by a Roman knight, named Butætius Barrus, a proſeſed libertine, who being tired of too easy conqueſts, ſought to vary his infamous pleafures by the charm of difficulty and danger. He therefore attacked a veſtal called Emilia, and when he had ſucceeded in ſeducing her, the contagion ſoon ſpread; and two other veſtals, Licinia, and Marcia, followed the example of their companion.

Marcia, however, leſs criminal than the other two, admitted only one lover; but Emilia and Licinia, who were become great friends, if ſuch leagues which the wicked form with the wicked may be called by the name of friendship, not chusing to confine themſelves to their firſt gal-lants, each introduced her brother to her friend, and managed each other's interviews.

Having once begun to extend their criminal amours, they ſoon had occasion to obſerve that their ſecret took air; therefore to engage those

I 4

to

120 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

to silence whom they apprehended would inform
against them, they made them all accomplices in
the guilt.

This scene of infamy, after having been long
acted in secret, was at length brought to light by a
slave named Manius, whose master was one of
Emilia's gallants.

This fellow had been employed by Licinia and
her to carry on their intrigues with several young
Romans, and had for some time acquitted himself
very faithfully in their infamous service; but being
disappointed in the rewards they had promised him,
and in his expectations of liberty from his master,
he made a full discovery; and the guilty vestals
were immediately brought to trial.

The college of pontiffs, which by the constitution of Numa were the proper judges of this affair, acted with 'great lenity, and condemned only Emilia; a favourable sentence was passed upon Marcia and Licinia, for which the former was probably indebted to her having been less criminal; and the latter to the eloquence of the celebrated L. Crafthus, her kinsman, who being then twenty seven years of age, defended her in an oration of which Cicero speaks with praise.

The unhappy Emilia was buried alive, purSUANT
to her sentence; Marcia and Licinia were just
recovered from the horrors of that dreadful fate
which had impended over them, when a new
process was commenced against them.

The whole Roman people exclaimed against
the lenity of the pontiffs, on an occasion when the
crime was equally evident and odious; and the
tribune

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

121

tribune Sextus Peduceus having put himself at the head of those who murmured at the sentence, caused an extraordinary commission to be voted by the people for re-hearing the cause of Marcia and Lycinia; and at the head of that commission placed L. Caffius, who for that purpose was created prætor a second time, after having been conful and cenfor.

He was a person of rigid virtue and inflexible severity, and one who, as Cicero observes, had rendered himself agreeable to the people, not by potlenefs, and a popular behaviour, but by an außerity of manners, which acquired him respect.

Caffius fully answered the expectation of those who had chosen him; for he not only condemned the two veftals, who were punished in the same manner as Emilia, but also a great number of other persons; so that his tribunal was called the rock of the accused.

122

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

THE HISTORY

OF THE

COUNT DE COMMINGE.

Written by himself.

THE house of Comminge, from which I am
defcended, is one of the moſt ancient and il-
luftrious in the kingdom; my great grand-father,
who had two ſons, was ſo extremely fond of the
youngeſt, that he ſettled ſome very confiderable
eſtates upon him, in prejudice to the rights of his
elder brother; and gave him the title of mar-
quis of Luffan. The partiality of my ancesſor
did not weaken the friendſhip between his two
ſons, which encreaſed with their years. They
would have their children brought up together;
but by giving them their education in common,
inſtead of uniting them by ſtricter ties than thoſe
of blood, which was their ſole view in it, they ren-
dered them enemies almoſt from their birth.

My father, who was always excelled in his ex-
ercifes by the young marquis of Luffan, conceived
a jealouſy at it, which ſoon degenerated into a
fixed

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

fixed averfion. They often quarrelled; and my
father being always the aggr effortor, it was he who
was always punished.

One day, when he complained of this treatment
to the steward of our family, “ Know, said the man
“ to him, that you will have it in your power to
“ reprefs the pride of the marquis of Luffan; all
“ the eftates he poſſeſſes are entailed upon you,
“ and your grandfather could not diſpoſe of them :
“ when you are the maſter, continued he, it will
“ not be difficult for you to recover your right.”

This intimation convincing my father, that he
had it in his power to be revenged of his cousin,
made him ſet no bounds to his refentment. Their
quarrels became ſo frequent and ſo violent, that
there was a neceſſity for ſeparating them. They
were many years without ſeeing each other, during
which they were both married. The marquis of
Luffan had only a daughter by his wife, and my
father only a ſon by his, which was myſelf.

As soon as my father came to the poſſeſſion of
his hereditary eſtates, by the death of his grand-
father, he determined to follow the advice that
had been given him, while he was yet a youth, and
which he had never loſt fight of: he omitted no-
thing that could render his claim unqueſtionate,
and rejecting ſeveral propoſals for an accommodation,
commenced a law ſuit with the marquis of Luffan,
which could not but terminate in the deſpoiling
him of all his eſtates.

An unhappy rencounter, which they had one
day in a hunting-match, rendered them for ever
irreconcileable. My father, whose vowed revenge

wal

124 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

was never out of his thoughts, faid several cruel
things to the Marquis of Luffan, upon the defpi-
cable condition to which he expected soon to re-
duce him. The marquis, tho' naturally mild,
could not help anfswering with fome haughtineſs.
They had recourse to their ſwords: fortune de-
clared in favour of Monfieur de Luffan: he diſ-
armed my father, and bid him afk his life.

“ I should hate it, anſwered my father fierce-
“ ly, if I owed it to thee.” “ Yet, ſpite of thyſelf,
“ thou ſhalt owe it to me,” faid the marquis, of
Luffan, throwing him his ſword: after which he
inſtantly left him.

This generous action did not move my father
in his favour; on the contrary, the double victory
his enemy gained over him, encreafed his hatred,
and he carried on the ſuit againſt the marquis of
Luffan more vigorously than before. However,
when his hopes were higheſt he received some ac-
counts from his lawyers, which effectually deſtroyed
them. This disappointment threw him into ſuch
transports of rage and grief, as brought on a dan-
gerous fever, under which he languifhed a long
time, and in this ſtate I found him at my return
from my travels, upon which I had ben ſent imme-
diately after my ſtudies were finiſhed.

A few days after my arrival, the Abbot de R---,
a kinfman of my mother's, ſent notice to my father,
that the writings which alone were able to prove
his juſt claim to the eſtates poſſed by the mar-
quis of Luffan, were in the archives of the abbey
of R---, to which place many of the papers belong-
ing to our family had been carried during the civil

wars.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

wars. My father was defired by the abbot to
keep this information secret, and to come him-
felf for thofe writings, or fend a perſon for them,
on whofe fidelity he could have an abſolute de-
pendance.

The bad ſtate of his health not permitting him
to go himſelf, he charged me with this commiffion,
after many times repreſenting to me, the great im-
portance of it. " You, ſaid he to me, are more
" concerned in the recovery of thofe papers, than
" I am; the eſtates will probably ſoon be yours;
" but if you had no intereſt in them, I think well
" enough of you, to believe that you ſhare my
" reſentment, and are eager to revenge the in-
" juries I have received." After giving ſome other
neceſſary inſtructions, it was reſolved that I ſhould
take the title of marquis of Longaunois, that my
buſinſes in the abbey might not be ſuspected,
madame de Luffan having ſeveral relations there.

I fet out, accompanied only by an old ſervant of
my father's, and my own valet de chambre. My
journey proved ſuccesſul : I found in the archives
of the abbey the writings which proved inſonteſt-
bly the entail. I wrote to my father, and gave
him an account of all that I had done; and, as I
was only at a ſmall diſtance from ——,
I deſired he would permit me to ſtay there during
the ſeason for drinking the waters. My father was
ſo pleafed with the ſuccesſs of my journey, that he
readily complied with my requeſt.

I ſtill appeared under the borrowed title of the
marquis of Langaunois : my equipage was too in-
confiderable to ſupport the grandeur of that of Com-
minge.

minge.

126. THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

minge. The day after my arrival, I went to the
fountain: in these places ceremony is laid aside,
and an easy polite freedom better supplies its place.
From the first day of my appearance at the baths, I
was admitted into all parties of pleasure, and intro-
duced at the house of the marquis de la Valette, who
that day gave a grand entertainment to the ladies.

I found several of them whom I had seen at the
fountain already come, and said some tender things
to them, as I then thought myself obliged to do
to all women. I was engaged in a particular con-
verfation with one of them, when a lady of a good
prefence entered the room, followed by a girl of
surprifing beauty; her charms fixed my attention
immediately, her graceful modefty won my eſteem.
I loved her from that moment, and that moment
decided the deſtiny of my whole life. Inſenſibly
my former gaiety vanifhed; I could do nothing
but gaze on her, and follow her every where: ſhe
perceived it, and bluſhed. A walk was proposed,
and I had the good fortune to lead her. We were
at a ſufficient diſtance from the reſt of the company
to give me an opportunity of talking to her upon
a ſubject by which my whole thoughts were en-
groſſed; but I who a few moments before was not
able to remove my eyes from her face, had now
when we were alone not courage enough to look
upon her. Till then I had always talked of love to
women for whom I felt nothing but indifference;
but as soon as my heart was really ſubdued, I found
impoſſible to ſpeak.

We rejoined the company, without having ut-
tered a ſingle word to each other. The ladies were

con-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

127

conducted to their lodgings, and I returned home,
where I shut myself up in my apartment. In the
disposition my mind was then, solitude was most
agreeable. I felt a certain kind of joy mixed with
pain, which I believe always accompanies a beginning passion: mine had rendered me so timid,
that I durst not endeavour to know the name of her
I loved. I was apprehensive my curiosity would
betray the secret of my heart; but how did it sink
within me, when I learned that it was the daughter
of the marquis of Luffan who had charmed me.
All the obstacles that opposed my happiness rose
instantly to my mind; but the fear that Adelaida,
so was that lovely girl called, had been early taught
to hate my name, was what most alarmed me. I
thought myself fortunate in having assumed another;
and fondly hoped that she would know my
passion for her before she could be prejudiced
against me; and that when she knew who I was she
would at least be induced to pity me.

I therefore determined to conceal my true name
as long as possible, and in the mean time to use
every method to please her; but I was too much
in love to employ any other than that of loving. I
followed her wherever she went: I ardently wished
for an opportunity of speaking to her in private;
and when that so much desired opportunity offered
itself, I had not power to take advantage of it.
The fear of forfeiting a thousand little freedoms,
which I now enjoyed, restrained me; but my
greatest fear was that of offending her.

This was my situation, when one evening, as
the company were walking in separate parties, Ada-

laida

128 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

laida dropt a bracelet off her arm, to which her picture was fastened. The chevalier de Saint Oden, who led her, eagerly stooped to take it up, and, after gazing upon it a moment, put it in his pocket. Adelaida at first asked for it mildly; but he obstinately refusing to return it, she expressed great resentment at a behaviour which showed so little respect for her.

The chevalier was handsome; some little successes with the fair had made him vain and prefluming. Without being disconcerted at Adelaida's anger, "Why, mademoiselle, said he, would "you deprive me of a good which I owe only to "chance? I flatter myself, continued he, lowering his voice, that when you know the sentiments you have inspired me with, you will suffer me to keep what that has prefented me." Saying this he bowed profoundly low; and, without waiting for her answer, retired.

I happened not to be with her then. The marchionefs de la Valette and I were talking at a little distance; but altho' I quitted her as seldom as possible, yet my attention was always fixed upon her. I never loft a look, a word, or action of hers, and however particularly engaged, I never failed in any of those affiduities, which others practise to please, but which the excess of my passion made we find inconceivable pleasure in performing.

[To be continued.]

[ 129 ]

PHILOSOPHY

FOR THE

LADIES.

INTRODUCTION.

IN the enumeration of those studies which the fair sex may properly be permitted to employ some part of their time in an application to, given in our last Number, it may be remembered that history and natural philosophy ftood foremost in the lift. Curiosity is one of the most prevalent, and, when properly applied, one of the most amiable, passions of the human mind; nor can it in any way find a more rational scope for exertion, than in the recollection of historical facts, and a curious inquiry into the wonders of creation. To this application of that passion the female part of the world are unquestionably most happily adapted. Undisturbed by the more intricate affairs of buſiens; unburthened with the load of political entanglements; with the anxiety of commercial negotiations; or the fuspene and anguish which attend on the purſuit of fame or fortune, the memories of the fair are left vacant to receive and to retain the re-

Nº. 2.

K

gular

130 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

gular connection of a train of events, to register
them in that order which fancy may point out as
most pleasing, and to form deductions from them
such as may render their lives more agreeable to
themselves, and more serviceable to every one
about them. Their more exalted faculties, not be-
ing tied down by wearisome attention to mathe-
matical investigations, metaphysical chimeras, or
abstruse scholastic learning, are more at liberty to ob-
serve with care, see with perspicuity, and judge with-
out prejudice, concerning the amazing world of won-
ders round them than those of men, who, very fre-
quently by attempting to arrive at every kind of
knowledge, find themselves stopped short in their
career by the limited period of life, before they
can properly be said to have reached any.

To gratify and furnish food for this laudable cu-
riosity, therefore, in both these branches of know-
ledge, shall be one of our principal aims in the pro-
secution of this work; yet as amusement no les
than introduction will ever constitute one of the main
columns of our edifice, and that our wish is to
render the ladies though learned not pedantic,
convertible rather than scientific, we shall avoid
entering into any of those minutiae, or diving into
those depths of literature, which may make their
study dry to themselves, or occasion its becoming
tiresome to others.

If therefore we treat of philosophy, it shall be
polished from the ruft of theoretical erudition, and
adorned with all those advantages which a connex-
ion with the liter arts and sciences can throw upon
it. If of history, a pleasing relation of the most
interesting facts shall be endeavoured at, the move-
ment

ment

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

131

ment of the grand machine of government shall indeed be set before our readers, and the influence of each apparent wheel be rendered visible: but we shall think it unnecessary to look into every secret spring whereby these wheels were actuated; and shall dispense with entering into the never to be discovered causes of the rise and fall of nations now no more, to make room for the more useful knowledge of those movements of the human heart on which depend the happiness or ruin of individuals. If geography should form, as we propose it shall, one portion of each number, it will not be with us the meer description of large tracts of land, where woods and plains, mountains and valleys, rivers and sandy deserts occur alike in all; but only a detail in every country of those things which are peculiar to itself: a picture not of the face of the earth, of sea and air, in different latitudes and longitudes, but a more varied prospect of human nature diversified by different laws, by different constitutions, and different ideas.

Thus much will be sufficient to premise in regard to the matter of our researches on these kind of subjects, in order to obviate the horrid idea which the word philosophy might perhaps otherwise imprese on the minds of our female readers, who might from that term expect to find a work intended and calculated chiefly for their amusement and instruction, loaded with dry and abstruse investigations, which some of them might not have time, or others even want attention, to examine with the application necessary to become mistresses of them; and which if they were attained would stand a

K 2

chance

132 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

chance of more than ten to one of exciting the
outcry of the world against them.

As to the method we intend to purfue, how-
ever, something, though not much, will be nece-
fary to add. Which will be only to obferve that
no regular course of philosophy, no long train of
historical events, nor any close confinement to one
branch of geographical knowledge, shall be aimed
at in our effays on these subjects. Variety is the
foul of study, as well as the pleasure of life; and a
thousand useful pieces of knowledge steal into the
vacancies of our mind when detached, which would
never find their way thither if they were entangled
with each other, or mingled in the grand mass of
philosophical enquiries.

Learning, in short, is the old man's bundle of
rods: when bound up in the clufter, it is almost im-
possible to be overcome, yet every single twig may
easily be mastered. In short, we see not the labour
we have to go through, when it is prefented to us
in minute portions; yet still it answers the end
propofed,

Small fands the mountain, moments make the year.

We accumulate knowledge by golden grains, and
find ourselves poffeffed of an ample treasure before
we are even aware that we have attained the ne-
ceffary store for our passing easily through life.

To render this accumulation therefore thus easy,
we shall fix ourselves to no peculiar order, but
make variety our aim; transport our reader by
turns through all the regions of earth, air, and
ocean, and to different climates, with expedition be-
yond

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

yond the power of a magician's wand. No bars of
time, of place, or distance, or even impossibility
itself, shall stop our progress. One Number of our
work perhaps shall leave us admiring the stupend-
dous fabric of the immenſe extended univerſe;
the next shall find us aiding our limited fight by
help of glaſſes in obſervations on a world of un-
known beings contained within a drop of fluid, or
foreſts waving in the narrow circuit of a ſmall piece
of moſs. To-day we shall converſe with almost
our cotemporaries, enquire their actions, and cen-
fure or applaud them as we please; to-morrow
ſhall introduce us to an intercourſe with the great
founders of long abolished empires. One page
ſhall teach the manners uſed by nations where
ſplendour and magnificence ſurpaſs even the moſt
volatile imagination; the next point out the va-
rious artifices which want, the parent of inventive
labour, inſtructs the poor unhappy ſavage to make
uſe of for the ſupply of those neceſſities which bar-
ren wilds and mountains defolate; deny the fuller
ſolace of. In ſhort, every thing curious, every
thing inſtructive, every thing entertaining, ſhall
be carefully ſought out, and offered to the view,
without distinction or reſpect to order; ſtill leav-
ing to the mind of every reader to range and form
them into ſystems according to his pleafure.

K 3

O F

[ 134 ]

OF THE
UNIVERSE

AS CONSIDERED

Under a GENERAL VIEW.

Although, as I have hinted above, we do not propose to enter into any regular order with regard to particular details, yet previous to our engaging in any disquisitions at all, it may not be improper to take one general review of nature, in order to open and prepare the mind for the reception of such discoveries as may at first fight found from their novelty, and such truths as may appear incredible from their overleaping the limits of our conception.

Every study ought to have its peculiar use not only with regard to mankind in general, but to the person to whom it is recommended in particular. It is not enough to say, such or such a branch of knowledge will, if pursued, be productive of some emolument to others; the person who is particularly solicited to pursue it ought to be informed in what respect it may be rendered serviceable to him in particular. Let mankind argue on the principles of stoicism and public spirit as long as they please, it would be difficult through the history of now almost fix thousand years, to find any action ever so

trivial

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

trivial, if attended with either labour or hazard,
that has been performed merely for the fake of the
publick in prefent, or of pofterity in future, where-
in some advantage either real or imaginary was
not to accrue to the agent.

The motives to great and illuftrious actions in
the loud and busy occurrences of the world have
been usually incited by ambition: Ambition, united
with avarice, has aimed at prefent aggrandizement;
ambition, spurred on by fancy, has made future
fame its final goal. Yet have the actions thus
produced generally tended to oppreſſion or extra-
vagance.

In the continued practice of moral opinions, and
the ſupport of religious tenets, many have run thro'
lives of pain and perſecution; many have fallen
voluntary martyrs in the midſt of the moſt excru-
ciating tortures, and gloried in the ſufferings they
have borne. The hope of future meed, the prof-
pect of a certain happineſs in another ſtate, pur-
chased by patient ſufferings in this, have been at
once their motive and ſupport: yet theſe have fre-
quently deſerved the names of wild enthufſaſm and
headſtrong ſuperſtition.

In the ſtill calmer and more retired ſphere of
learned diſquifition, the ſprings of action ſeem with
greater diſintereſtedneſs to tend towards general
utility. Fame is but rarely gained by ſtudious
lore; fortune ſtill ſeldomer. The prefent therefore
ſeems improbable, the future moſt uncertain.
Ambition and intereſt here ſeem to have no
effect. The motives then of action here are more
concealed; yet motives ſtill there are: for human

K 4

na-

136 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

nature finds its powers too limited, its inclinations
too much clogg'd, to act without some point in view
to rouse it to exertion.

From the concealment then, or rather from the
non-appearance of these motives, arises the so com-
mon cry againft the practice of natural philosophy,
What is the use of this? A cry thus raised as easil y
is answered, The use is universal---But to explain
that answer more may be necessary.

To those whole minds are too contracted to
wander through the tracts of boundlefs space, to
view at once with wonder, and follow with dif-
cernment, the motions of the heavenly bodies; and
whilft contracted thus are ſtill too diffipated to fix
upon the objects placed before them, and pay the
due attention to that mechanism, which, as the ju-
dicious Mr. Boyle moſt juſtly has obſerved, “ is
“ more confpicuous in nature’s watches than her
“ clocks ;” to theſe, I ſay, the uſe of all theſe
ſtudies will ſtill remain concealed.

But to the mind of clear and cool reflection,
their uſe is plain and evident: they lead by ſmooth
and regular gradations to peace and happineſs:
they raife the thoughts to humanity and devotion;
ſerve to calm our ruffled paſſions, and, by a regular
tranſition, convey our contemplations from the
 creature to its Creator.

In this light then let us consider them: look on
the vaſt universe as one immenſe machine, whose
complicated mechanism beſpeaks an artiſt of al-
mighty power and wifdom---a machine formed for
our uſe, and conſequently a moſt amazing proof
of his benevolence and goodneſs---a machine whose

ſeveral

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

several parts have all a wonderful connection, and
all their several uses; which it is therefore a duty
enjoined on us to endeavour at the discovering, and
the discovery itself a reward granted for the per-
formance of that duty.

Let us then first take a view of this mighty ma-
chine in the whole, and then descend to a more
immediate disquifition of its several parts.

For this purpose then, reader, imagine yourself
conveyed to some place beyond even the limits
of infinite ſpace; there caſt your eyes around, and
view the number of the ſtars which glitter in their
several orbs. Small as they from our earth appear,
behold them each a ſun, ſhining with brighteſt
luſtre; each an immenſe maſs of heat and light.
Around them ſee numbers of worlds revolving in
ſtated orbits, and in certain times. Loſt as you
are in the irregularity of their number and their
motions, now fix your attention on a ſingle one--
return to our ſystem only.

There, in the centre, the only place from whence
the advantages of light and heat could be diſperſed
with equal impartiality to all the ſurrounding pla-
nets, and almost equally to every one in all the ſe-
veral periods of its course, behold the ſun: a won-
drous moſs of fire, of ſo immenſe a bulk, glowing
with ſo much brightness, and heated to a fervor ſo
intenſe, as to diſſuſe its genial warmth, and ſpread
its rays for millions of miles around it, and, tho'
burning for thouſands of years, enduring no vi-
fible decreaſe. Next to him, although at a di-
ſtance of thirty-two millions of miles from his body,
rolls the ſmall planet Mercury, revolving rapidly
through

138 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

all the several periods of its season in eighty-eight
of our days. Then in a larger circle, next comes
Venus, forming its year in somewhat more than
seven months. Her bulk is nearly equal to that
of our globe; and in her course appears to us,
sometimes a full bright star, reflecting the sun's rays
from the whole circle of her body; at others horn-
ed, and in a crescent, representing as it were in
miniature the changes of the moon.

For these two planets, placed as they are within
the immediate influence of the beams which ema-
nate from the great fount of light, those rays are
full sufficient for their purpose, unaided by extra-
neous assistance. Not so the Earth, the next in
order of the planets; stationed where the sun's
rays diverge and diffipate, so as to afford only a
fainter day, and endued with motions whereby
sometimes that day is very short; in order to procure
and to prolong to her the great bleffing of light,
she is attended by a satellite, a planet perpetually
revolving round her body, which by receiving on
its surface the rays of the great luminary, sends
them back by reflection to the inhabitants of
this globe; and here let us reflect on the amazing
complication of various motions carried on at once
in these two bodies! The daily revolution of the
earth round its own axis, performed in four and
twenty hours, combined with that in her own orbit,
performed with a velocity of almost a thousand miles
in a minute. The Moon turning round her own
centre in twenty-seven days, rolling in the fame
space of time around her primary, and carrying on
these motions calm and undisturbed, whilst she is
borne

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

borne along with equal swiftness by that primary
in its annual progress---how wonderful a combi-
nation! how inconceivable to human fancy,
the impulse by which it could be at first set to
work! what less than infinite power could continue
it in such unwearied regularity of rotation for so
many ages! what but infinite wisdom could have
contrived it in such just proportion, in such con-
nested harmony, as to bring about every change of
time and season which can be conducive either to
the convenience, the use, or even to the pleasure
of the inhabitants of both these globes!

In the fourth circle of the solar system rolls, in a
period of almost two years, the planet Mars. Above
him still, and in the realms of everlastingly frosted, and
little more than constant twilight, the mighty Ju-
piter, superior to all the other planets from his flu-
pendous bulk, revolves in a large circuit of twelve
tedious years. Round him four moons continually
attend, moving in different periods, to furnish his
inhabitants with light, and entertain them with the
almost infinite variety of their changes and aspects.

Still farther off, and at not much less than eight
hundred millions of miles distance from the sun,
in flow and ftately progresses Saturn moves, filling
almost thirty years in one revolution. Five moons
relieve his almost total darknes; nor would even
the help of these avail to clear the gloom which his
inhabitants experience, were they not aided by a still
brighter band of reflected light formed by the ample
ring whereby his body ever is encircled. Let fancy
paint the glorious prospect of the face of heaven
as it appears to them; where sometimes in one he-
misphere

140

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

misphere at once are to be seen, (besides the brilliant arch now over their heads, and now forming to a certain height a luminary border to their horizon) five moons, shining with borrowed luce, and at once glance presenting to their view all the several phenomena which with our single satellite we are obliged to wait for years to see; some in the full, some new, and some increasing; some undisturbed and clear, and others in eclipse. Eclipses too, unknown to our moon, formed by the interchangeable positions of the several satellites; and sometimes by the ring, behind which they remain a time concealed, and then emerge again.

Besides these regular, these well known periods, behold a set of bodies, whose errant progress extends sometimes far, far beyond the orbit of the farthest of these planets, and sometimes comes within a nearer distance to the sun than is the very nearest: In one part of their orbit moving slower than Saturn, and in another whirling swifter round the body of the sun than Mercury himself: sometimes in regions, to the cold of which the frosts of Greenland must be the dog star's heat; sometimes in raging fires which the most wild imagination cannot form the least idea of; experiencing thus within one revolution, sometimes indeed of several hundred years, all the vicissitudes of times, of fea-fons, climates, and appearances, which all the other planets in their several orbits separately undergo; yet are these wandering maffes, these phenomena, which from their rare appearances have been esteemed portents and prodigies, refrained by mighty power, their progress stated by almighty wisdom, and

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and their wild courtes ruled by the great hand that
made them.

Such is the fyftem, fuch the vaft machine, of
which our globe is but a single part, one wheel,
and that no more than one of the moft trivial;
for of the bodies we have named, there are fome
exceeding it in bulk by many hundred times : yet
let us come to a nearer view of that alone, and we
fhall find its mechaniſm ſuch as, in our narrow
comprehensions, might of itſelf exhauſt the utmoſt
power even of Omnipotence; yet this, compared
with the whole fyftem, how inſignificant! and that
whole fyftem itſelf, if loft from out the univerſe,
how little to be miffed !---not more than would the
ſmallest pebble conveyed from the extended coaſt
of the wide ocean---what then is man! and what
is his creator !

Contract we now our views, and fix them on our
earth.---Behold the mighty mafs, a fertile globe,
of near eight thouſand miles diameter, covered in
every part with animated beings, formed into an
infinite variey of different ſhapes, of different na-
tures, and different inclinations, and conſequently
with an infinity of different wants: yet fee upon
its ſurface, within its bowels, or floating in its ſur-
rounding atmosphere, the means for the ſupply-
ing all thofe wants; nay more, of gratifying every
needleſs with of thofe infatiate animals mankind;
of yielding ſupernumerary delights, and leaving to
the mind of juſt reflexion not even a ſingle with
to form.

Obſerve the atmosphere wherewith to the height
of a few miles the globe appears enwrapped. In
it

142 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

it you see the treasure houses of the rain, of snow,
and hail, let loose at proper periods to cool and to
refresh the earth; to afford nourishment to all
the vegetable world, and to supply the rivers and
the springs with water: of clouds to overshadow
and protect alike the animals and plants from the
fun's scorching heat, and to relieve that heat by fea-
fonable showers. There you behold the prison of the
winds which are sent forth at proper times to put in
motion the stagnant air, and scatter all those noxious
vapours which it receives by circulating through the
several organs of animal life. The lightnings too, and
thunder there are formed with more than chymic
art; whose dreadful explosions, at the same time
that they cool and purify the surrounding elements,
seem more immediately to be the voice of the Al-
mighty, warning his creatures of his wrath, at the
same time that it declares his power.

Descend we to the surface. There observe the al-
most infinite variety of forms and of materials. See
there high mountains reaching to the clouds, whose
long extended ridges serve so many various pur-
poses; as limits to great kingdoms, and bars to
wild o'erbearing thicket of empire; as ribs where-
by this mass of earth and water is strengthened and
supported, as is the animal frame by maffy bones;
and lastly as immense alembics, to collect and to
diffil thole waters which the fun's heat evaporates
from the wide surface of the ocean; thence to dif-
perfe them down their fides in numberless little
rills, which, meeting and uniting in their progres,
compofe those mighty rivers whereby the several
traicts of land which form the continents, are equally

fup-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

supplied with that most useful element, and which
upon their bofoms bear the trade of many inland
nations.

View next the vallies adorned with pleasing ver-
dure, and variegated with a dazzling glow of
beauteous colouring, affording food for miriads of
animals, created for the use and the conveniencies
of man---Obferve the woods and forefts waving in
the wind, and yielding shelter from the storm and
tempeft, laden with fruits of every kind, and furnifh-
ing materials for building more convenient habita-
tions. In other parts large wide extended heaths, co-
vered with underwood, serve for the dwelling-place
of various animals- Eifewhere see fandy deferts, thro'
which ſcarce any tract of feet can be discerned--
rocks and vaft cliffs which ſtop the ocean's rage;
and laſtly, view the wide expanſe of ocean, whoſe
furſace is enriched with all the treaſures of the com-
mercial world, and ſerves to bring about an inter-
course between thofe very nations which it appears
to bar from all communication---Within its bulk
of waters miriads of animals of various forms and
ſizes find habitation and exſtence, from the im-
menſe floating inland of the whale's enormous body
and the devouring ſhark, to the poor little lifeleſs lim-
pet, which ſixes to the rock, and there paffes all the
period of its being without either fight or motion---
Around its borders ſee growing on every part moffes
and corals, which with a kind of vegetation differing
from other plants, and varying from each other, form
groves for the ſmaller inhabitants of the waters to range
among, and hide themſelves from the perception of
their voracious enemies; whilft its unfathomed bottom

con-

144 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

tains a world unknown to us of animals which never
rife to the surface, or wander to the shores, and
therefore muſt poſſeſs organs, reſpiration, and
means for the preferving life, hitherto undifcover-
able by anatomical reſearches, and unaccount-
ed for by philosophical theory.

Let us, I ſay, but once reflect on this review of
nature, and who can aſk what uſe theſe ſtudies have ?
What uſe, but to adapt and to prepare the mind for
ſtill more ſpeculative and important reflections on
the immenſtity of that great power by which theſe
wonders have been all created : who, with his fin-
gle fiat, has ſet this incomprehenſible machine in
motion, and who with a meer nod can ſtop that
motion, and inſtantly reduce it to its original chaos.
What uſe, but to point out to man, that proud pre-
fumptuous being, who dares to ſet himſelf in bold
defiance to that power, how poor, how insigni-
ficant, how very a worm he is when placed in com-
petition with many of the other productions of om-
nipotence!---What uſe, but to inſpire the true philo-
pher with the moſt humble reverence, with the
moſt ardent gratitude, and with the deepest ſenſe
of that beneficence which has placed him in a world
where he remains ſurrounded with ten thouſand
miracles, ſupplied with every thing his real wants
can ſtand in need of, or his unbounded wisheſs form
in fancy: and ſees himſelf poſſeſſed of all this by
the immediate kindneſs of a power which claims
from him no other recompenſe but his enjoying
them with wonder and with gratitude, and paying
the ſmall tribute of praeſe to him who gave them.

AN

[ 145 ]

THE
LADY'S GEOGRAPHY.

AS we have before observed that it shall be our
endeavour in the progrès of this work to ren-
der it as interesting as possible, and to reject every
thing that does not tend in some measure either to
instruct or entertain, we shall consequently be very
short in our descriptive part of the particular coun-
tries we may have occasion to conduct our fair rea-
ders through; since the general face of nature varies
little more in different countries than the face of
man. Air, earth, and water, hills and valleys,
woods and open plains, are the universal features
every where; and therefore would produce conti-
nual and tedious repetitions, were we to attach
ourselves to such descriptions: but the peculiar va-
riations in those features, together with the parti-
cular complexion which the mind of man appears to
wear in every place, is what alone we shall think
worthy of our notice. For this reason we shall
constantly divide our investigations of different
countries into three parts, viz. first, such general
description as may be absolutely necessary for the
knowledge of its situation, and to give some idea
to the reader of the prospect he might expect to
meet with if he was on the spot, but in this we
shall be as concise as possible; secondly, the na-
tural history, or a detail of the productions and
Nº. 2. L curio-

146 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

curiosities of nature peculiar to it; and lastly, the
civil history, or an account of the manners, laws,
and customs of the inhabitants; in which, as well
as in the preceding article, we shall aim at pre-
ferring all imaginary novelty, by taking no notice
at all of those things of either kind which are uni-
versally possessed in every country; making only a
bare mention of such as they have in common
with some others; and extending more amply on such
alone as are peculiar to the very individual spot or
nation which is the subject of our immediate con-
fideration. In purfuance therefore of this kind of
plan, we shall now proceed to

A DESCRIPTION of AMBOYNA,
AND OF

The other ISLANDS dependent on it.

This cluster of islands, which are numbered by
some authors amongst the Moluccas, were first dif-
covered by the Portugueſe, in 1511; but were
taken from them by the Dutch in the beginning
of 1605, in whole possession they remain to this
day. They are situated in about the fourth degree
of south latitude, and about the one hundred and
forty-fifth of longitude from the Canary Islands.

Amboyna in itself, although the capital, is by no
means the largest of the islands which are connect-
ed under the fame jurisdiction: yet as it is the moſt
populous in proportion to its ſize, the moſt regu-
larly cultivated, the moſt carefully ſtrengthened
with many fortifications, and beautified with a very
handsome city, it claims the preference of being
first mentioned.

It

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It is an island, or rather two joined together by
a small isthmus of about a quarter of a league in
breadth, and which forms on one side of it a gulph
of upwards of fix German leagues in length, and
about a league over in the broadest part, capable
of containing an infinite number of vessels, and on
the other a very fine bay. This isthmus lies so low,
that by only cutting a canal of about fix feet depth
the two gulphs would communicate with each other.
The two parts of the islands separated by it are of
different sizes; the northern part, which is called
Hitto, is much the largest, being eight leagues
and a half long, and two and a half broad; the other,
named Leytimor, is but about five leagues in
length, and its breadth at most not above two,
gradually diminishing almost to a point at one end;
at two leagues and half from which, on the northern
coast, stands the town of Amboyna.

Hitto is divided into seven cantons, each of which
for the most part contains about five villages, and
is defended by a fortresses and garrifon. Leytimor
would of itself be very inconsiderable, were it not
for its being the seat of the capital town and for
forts in the island, viz. Amboyna and Fort Victory.

The town stands in a fine plain on the coast of
the larger gulph, and is about a quarter of a league
in length, and fourteen hundred paces broad.
The streets are wide and regular; and although they
are not paved, yet the floor is so very spungy, that
the heavy rains, which frequently fall there, do
them much lefs damage than one would be apt to
expect. It contains about a thousand houses, ex-
clusive of the public buildings: amongst which the

L 2

castle,

148 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

castle, the market-house, the church, the guard-
house, the town-house, the hospital, the orphan-
house, governor's palace, the old and new Dutch
churches, and the company's linnen magazine, are
the most considerable, and some of them very mag-
nificent.

The number of inhabitants of the island of Am-
boyna are thought to amount to between seventy
and eighty thousand fouls, all of whom are Moors
or Mahometans, excepting the people of Leytimor,
who, most of them profels Chriftianity, and about
five or fix villages of the other part of the island.

Under the government of Amboyna are included
ten other islands, viz. Bouro, Amblau, Manipa,
Kelang, Bonoa, Ceram, Ceram-Laout, Naufa-La-
out, Honimoa, and Boangbefi.

The external aspect of all these islands prefent at
firft fight the appearance of the rudeft desert. On
whatever fide you turn your eyes, you fee yourfelf
surrounded with lofty mountains, whoſe tops are loft
in clouds; with frightful rocks riding on one an-
other's heads; with horrid caverns, thick woods,
ſhading with almost a continual darkneſs numbers
of very deep valleys; and at the fame time your ears
are ſtruck with the noife of rivers rufhing into the
sea with horrid roar, especially towards the begin-
ning of the eastern monſoon, the time at which
the European veſſels moſt commonly arrive there.

Yet foreigners who ſtay there till the western
monſoon find infinite beauties in the profpect. The
mountains abounding with ſeago and with cloves;
the forefts cloathed in verdure, and adorned with
bloſſoms; the vallies laden with fertility; the rivers

rolling

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rolling with waters pure and chryftalline; the very rocks and caverns, which seem but as the fhadows in a picture; all theſe objects diversified in ſo many ways render it one of the fineſt countries in the world.

The frequent attacks of the palfy in theſe iflands,
and the yellowneſs of complexion which many per-
fons bring from thence with them, have made it
be concluded that the air of them is unwholſome :
yet theſe diſorders are rather to be attributed to the
imprudence of travellers, than to the temperament
of the climate, the air of which is clear and health-
ful. Many have loft their limbs by ſleeping in
their ſhirts by moonlight in cool evenings; and the
exceſſe drinking of the Saguweer, fixes that yel-
lowneſs ſo much complained of: but theſe are diſ-
orders to which the natives, who take the fame li-
quor in moderation, and do not expofe themſelves
to the air in cold nights, are not ſubject to.

Earthquakes and heavy rains are the greatest incon-
veniences of theſe climates. During the time of the
eastern monsoon, which begins in May, and ends
in September, it will sometimes rain for ſeveral weeks
together: yet notwithstanding the vaſt quantity of
water which falls direſt, and the impetuous tor-
rents which pour down from the mountains into the
lower grounds, the land being ſo very ſpungy
the fields soon become dry again. But what is very
remarkable is, that the feafon for theſe rains is not
the fame throughout all the iflands: when it rains
at Amboyna, it is frequently very fair at Bouro,
Manipa, and other of the lands to the weſt. This
feafon is often accompanied with violent hurri-

canes;

150 THE LADY's MUSEUM,

canes; but earthquakes are more common during
the western monsoon, which also lafts for five
months. In April and October they have no reg-
gular winds. The easterly ones bring rain; the
westerly ones a drought: yet both these, as well as
the very plentiful evening dews, are of service in
tempering the excessive heats which are sometimes
so great in the middle parts of the day as to dry up
rivers and cause the earth to open in clefts of twenty
feet deep. In these seasons of drought they are al-
so incommoded with violent storms of thunder and
lightning; and earthquakes are very frequently
attendant on the rains which follow these heats.

NATURAL HISTORY of the Islands of AMBOYNA.

The principal and general product of these islands
are rice, feago, and cloves: they have, however,
great quantities of cocoa nuts, nutmegs, and other
vegetable productions. As to animals they have
very few peculiar to themselves, excepting some
of the bird kind We will now take a little cir-
cuit through the several islands, and remark what
is to be found worthy of notice in each.

AMBOYNA. In Hitto, or the northern part of
this island, are two mountains almost inaccessible;
one of which, called Tanita, is the highest in the
whole island. The top of it is so extremely cold
that no kind of animal is to be found on it, ex-
cepting some black lizards, which live in a very
thick mof, wherewith the ground, and even the
barks of the trees, are entirely cover'd; and which

is

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

is so extremely moist, that the water will run out of
it with the flighteſt preſſure.

BOURO. This island is many times larger than
Amboyna, being about eighteen leagues in length,
and upwards of thirteen in breadth. It is remark-
able for its very fine woods, amongſt which three
kinds of ebony, the black, the white, and a baf-
tard kind between both, are the moſt diſtinguifh-
able.

The internal parts of this island are fill'd with
high mountains and vaſt foreſts in many places in-
acceſſible, and which are the habitations of many
large serpents and other venomous animals; and
the banks of the rivers are inſtefted with crocodiles.
But what is the moſt wonderful is a large inland lake
which is at the top of a mountain about the middle
of the island. This is almoſt inacceſſible, the way
to it being over ſteep craigs and foreſts, so thick
as to be ſcarce paſſable. It is about two leagues
and an half over, and nearly round. Its depth in
the middle is fifteen or fixteen fathoms, and it is
ſupplied by a very rapid river. It produces no fifth
but eels, ſome of which are as thick as a man's
thigh. There are great number of wild ducks and
plover about its borders, and the woods near it
abound with a kind of bird, about the ſize of a
Canary bird, with a black head, red neck, with a
ring of white around it, and the wings of a bright
gold colour. In ſhort, by the deſcription, they
ſeem much to reſemble our goldfinches, and ſing
delightfully. There are alſo in this island two
other hills each almoſt in the form of a ſugar-loaf,
open at the top, and fill'd with water.

L 4

On

152

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

On the coast of the island of Ceram, which is the largest of them all, being sixty leagues in length, and in some places fifteen in breadth, is a prodigious large rock, at the foot of which Nature has formed several caverns, which give it the outward appearance of a walled town with its gates. These caverns sometimes serve for shelter to persons who happen to be overtaken by the night, tho' the retreat into them is frightful and even dangerous, being very much infested with serpents and other venomous reptiles.

In the little islands of Noussa, Laout, and Honimoa, but especially in the latter, is found a kind of soap earth, which the women of that country, when pregnant, devour greedily, from a perfusion that it has virtue to make their children fair, although experience most generally has contradicted that opinion.

The island of Oma is remarkable for a spring of hot water, the sulphurous steams of which are received thro' a wooden grate, by way of bath, for the relief of gouty and paralytic persons; and the ground every where about it is also extremely hot.

But the most amazing particular in this island is a kind of fiery vapour, which is conveyed in the air with certain winds, and by which all the heritage for a large tract of ground will be almost instantaneously consum'd, and the cloaths, hair, and sometimes the faces of persons expos'd to it, extremely scorch'd. Nor have they any means of escaping suffocation from the smoke produc'd by it,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

it, but by throwing themselves flat on the ground with their faces to the earth.

The sea wherewith these islands are surrounded present at particular times, viz. during the new moons of June, and August, a very amazing fight. The surface of it appears in the night-time as it were striped with large furrows as white as milk, although in the day time no difference is to be seen. This white water, which does not mingle with the other, has more or less extent according as it is increased by the rains, which the south-east winds bring along with them: no one has been able to discover from whence it comes, or whereby it is occasioned. Some have attributed this whiteness to little animalculæ; whilst others imagine it to proceed from sulphurous vapours rising from the bottom of the sea, and spreading on its surface. It is true there are many mountains of sulphur in this part of the world; but was it occasioned by them, the like phenomenon would be met with in other places where such mountains are; which is not the case. When the white water is gone, the sea charges a much greater quantity of froth and foam than usual. This water is extremely dangerous for small vessels, as the breakers cannot be distinguished through it; ships which are exposed to it also rot the sooner, and it is remarked that the fish constantly follow the black water.

Another object worthy of notice in those seas, is a kind of reddish worm, which appears every year at a certain time along the shore in many parts of the island of Amboyna. The use the inhabitants make of these worms we shall show hereafter.

The

154 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The MANNERS and CUSTOMS of the Inhabitants of AMBOYNA.

The inhabitants of these islands are of a middle feature, rather lean than fat, and extremely肥y: their features are regular, and there are both men and women of them who are far from unhandsome. There is however a fort of them, which are called Cakerlaks, who are almost as white as the Europeans; but it is a fort of palenefs which has something frightful in it when one is near them: they are very red hair'd, have large freckles on their hands and faces, and their skin is scurfy, rough, and wrinkled. Their eyes, which are perpetually winking, seem in the day-time half shut, and are so weak that they can scarce bear the light; but in the night they see very clear. The women of this kind are very rare. These Cakerlaks are a kind of lepers, and are held in great contempt by their country folks---They take their name from certain flying insects, which cast their covering every year, and whose skin resembles that of these people.

Their habitations are for the most part extremely poor and wretched: some indeed which belong to the principal persons are built of boards; but the generality are constructed of gabba-gabbas, or branches of the feago tree, the bark of which is extremely smooth and polished. These houses make no bad appearance when they are new; but in a short time, when the gabba-gabbas begin to rot, and the nails and fastenings which hold them give way,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

way, they form great gaps which render them ex-
tremely inconvenient.

Nor is their furniture more commodious or more
plentiful---A few shelves to serve by way of canopy,
some matts to fit on, a little earthen ware, a frying-
pan, a copper bafon to put their pifang in, a lamp
of the fame mettle, and two or three boxes made
of the leaves of the nipa, ornamented with white
fhells, compofe the principal part of it. The leaves
of the pifang serve them by way of table cloths
and napkins, and the fhell of the cocoa nuts for
fpoons. The ufe of knives is unknown to them,
but they do every thing with a kind of cleaver,
which they manage very dexterouſly: beſides theſe
implements, for domeſtic uſe, they have alſo ſome
arms in their houſes, ſuch as helmets, bucklers,
fabres, and javelins.

Their habits are neither more diversified nor more
magnificent: the men wear a kind of close-bodied
coat and breeches, made of cotton, or some other
ſtuff, of a blue colour, and for the moſt part un-
lined. The women in the houſe wear a fort of
petticoat fewed up, but without plaits, and equally
open at both ends: this they faſten at their waifts
to their under habit, which is a kind of ſhift with
the ſleeves very long, and a little open before, and
which reaches down ſomewhat below the navel.
When they go out they put on a ſecond petticoat,
which they throw over their left ſhoulder, in the
manner of a cloak; ſo that only the right ſide is
to be ſeen.

As ſashion is unknown to the people of this
country, all the difference of cloathing amongſt
them

156 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

them con lifts in the difference of the ftoffs. The
Moors have no other diftinction in their drefs from
the Chriſtians of the iſland but that of wearing a
turban iſt ead of the hat, or ſometimes red or white
handkerchiefs, which the latter ſaſ ten on their heads.

The grandees however are particularly fond of
distinguifhing themſelves by the magnificence of
their drefs and the number of their ſlaves. They
also wear robes of brocade, ſilk ſtockings, and
flippers, as marks of their nobility; whereas the
commonalty, both men and women, go barefooted,
or in wooden ſandals. The wives of the principal
magiftrates have the privilege of a kind of mantle,
with hanging ſleeves which comes down to their
knees, is generally made of rich flowered ſilk, and
gives them great conſequence among the people.
They also adorn themſelves with ear-rings, brace-
lets, and necklaces of many kinds, which are moſt-
ly made of gold. They wear a hat cut in three or
four points, and hold a handkerchief in their hands
by way of a fan, which they put before their faces
whilſt at prayers in the church, where they have
chairs; whereas the common women fit croſs-leg-
ged on mats upon the ground.

As the Amboynians in general are not looked
on as the beſt ſoldiers, they are alſo but indiffe-
rently provided with arms. They have however
ſome, which if they did but dare to look their ene-
mies in the face, might be rendered extremely uſe-
ful. I have already, under the article of their fur-
niture, mentioned the principal of them. Nothing
more therefore is neceſſary but to ſay ſomething in
regard to their ſtructure.

Their

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Their helmets are of brafs adorned with the feathers of the bird of paradise. Of bucklers they have two kinds; one fort, which are three or four feet long, and about one broad, and adorned on the outside with some rows of white shells: the other kind is only a small target made of ruffles, very completely interwoven, about two or three feet diameter, with a spike in the centre, which renders them at the same time equally commodious for offence. Of both these shields they avail themselves very skilfully in parrying off the strokes of their antagonifts. Their right hand is armed offensively either with a fabre or a javelin: some of them substitute, in the room of these, the bow and arrow, which are in more familiar use amongst the Alfourians, or mountaineers. Their fire-arms, which they acquired the knowledge of from the Europeans, they employ only in sporting; nor have they any heavy artillery, excepting a few patternaroes on the walls of their fortresses.

The ordinary navigation of the Amboynians is in a kind of canoes cut out of the trunks of trees, which are ten, twelve, and sometimes even twenty feet long by one or two broad. To either side of these vessels they fix a large wing, which, falling on the surface of the water, keeps it always in equilibrium amidst the waves; and as long as these wings are able to refift their force, the lightnefs of the vessel enables it to make a considerable progress in a very small time; but if once they happen to give way, the canoe infallibly overfets. These little barks are manned with one or two rowers, besides the person who takes care of the helm.

Their

158 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Their fishing-boats are broader, being about three
or four feet wide, but without any covering, which
would be very troublesome and inconvenient for
that use. Of the fame form as these, but larger,
are the vessels they make use of in their parties of
pleasure. In the middle of them, however, is
fixed a square tent or pavilion, with benches and
curtains all round, large enough to contain fifteen
or twenty persons, in proportion to the size of the
boat; by which also is determined the number of
the rowers. The smaller Orembayes (for so are
these vessels called) carry ten or twelve, and the
larger ones from thirty to forty. These rowers are
arranged towards the head and stern of the boat
on planks which project from its two sides: the
oars are broad and short, almost in the form of a
baker's peel, and the strokes of them are regulated
by the time of certain instruments of music played
on by two men for that purpose.

A third kind of bark, which they make use of,
is called the Champan, carries a mast, and is co-
vered; is about ten or twelve tons burthen; and
is made great use of for the conveying goods from
one island to another. The last fort of shipping
which these people employ are their Coracores,
which are large vessels of sometimes an hundred
feet in length, and twelve or fourteen in breadth.
The meaning of the name is the Sea-tortoise, which
is given to them from their being very heavy and
flow, although with a fair wind they are very convenient,
as they have the assistance of tails as well as oars.
Some of these galleys have two, three, and
others four rows of oars, extending from fifty to

near

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

near an hundred, with room for lodging about the
fame number of men, exclusive of two or three very
elegant little apartments for persons of particular
distinction. Of these vessels, form'd into fleets from
fifty to sixty-five, provided with proper arms, and
a few pateraroes, they defend their own coasts from
incursions, and frequently make attacks on their
neighbours.

From what we have said of the habits, dwellings,
and furniture of these people, it appears, that their ne-
ceffities can be but few; one would therefore imagine
that with a little application, join'd to a very small
degree of œconomy, it would be easy for them to in-
crease their means, and even to amass great riches.
But altho' there are several of them who enjoy
a very considerable income by the profits arising
from the produce of their cloves, yet they, for the
most part, expend it all in feasts, presents, and law-
fuits, in the latter of which they make nothing of
throwing away an hundred ducats in the defence of
a controverted clove-garden. It is, however, re-
markable that in a country where poverty is in a
manner the fashion, there are, nevertheless, no such
thing as beggars: but the wonder will in some
degree cease when it comes to be confider'd, that
the trees produce in very great abundance certain
fruits, the use of which is not denied to the paffers-
by; and that besides, no one there ever refuses to a
poor man the liberty of cutting as much fire-wood
as he has occasion for in one day, whilst it is very
easily in his power, with no extraordinary industry,
for him to make three shillings a-day by the sale of
those

160 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

thoſe faggots, two pence of which will amply ſuſ-
fice for his day's ſubſiſtence.

We have obſerved above that feaſting is one of
the articles which ruin the Amboynians, and by
which they are perpetually kept in penury and diſ-
trefſs. In ſhort, there are many various occaſions
on which they are obliged to give great and ſump-
tuous entertainments. Of theſe they have ordi-
nary and extraordinary ones. At thoſe which are
given on marriages, chriftenings, burials, &c. all
the relations are invited; but no one comes empty-
handed. Every perſon thinks himſelf obliged to
contribute a certain number of diſhes : and theſe
prefents are carried with great ceremony and abun-
dance of ofſentation by their ſlaves, one following
another, in large braſen bafons, each cover'd with
an embroidered handkerchief, thro' which, how-
ever, it is eaſy to diſtinguish what is underneath.

Besides this, three or four perſons are conſtantly
employed for what might eaſily be performed by one;
each endeavouring to outſhine the other in the quan-
tity of his preſents and the number of his domeſtics.

[To be continued.]

162 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and my grand-mother's mother, were all Triflers
before me. You know, if you know any thing
of Trifles, that it is the peculiar practice of our fa-
mily to count their pedigree on the female side.
By the advantage of a strong memory, diligently
stored with repeated narratives, I have an exact
knowledge of the whole succession of Trifles,
which have engaged the elegant and gay for two
centuries and a half.

It is said in one of Steel's comedies, that nobody
despises the honours of ancestry but those that want
them; and therefore I will not lose any advantage
of hereditary excellency. My mother was the
best knotter of queen Mary's court; my aunt Pen
was the third lady that in the reign of Charles the
Second tied ribands to her nipples; my grand-mo-
ther was a country gentlewoman, and has left little
behind her except a scented paste, with which the
beauties of her time used to clear their skins with-
out the help of water. My grand-mother appeared
at the court of James the First in Mrs. Turner's
yellow starch, and her mother was always solicited
to cut out ruffs by queen's Elizabeth's maids of
honour.

I fuppose, madam, you will now allow me to be
a genuine and legitimate Trifler; and I should be
glad that you could by equal authority clear your
pretenfions to a place among the fisterhood. Tri-
flers are always jealous; and I will not conceal my
fuspicions, that you are claiming a character with-
out right; and that your life has not been paffed
regularly among us; that you have either wanted
the initiation of the boarding-school, or the com-
pletion of the ball-room.

I

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I know, that it is common enough among periphraseal authors to forget their titles: they fill their heads with the theory of a plan which experience foon shews them to be too narrow to last long. The Tatler often talks with the most solemn auſterity of wifdom, and the Guardian deviates into many topicks with which as a Guardian he has no concern; but none ever ſtarted from her own purpose so foon as the Trifler; and therefore I am afraid, that ſhe has taken a province which ſhe cannot fill.

To the firſt paper I made no objection: it is natural to a Trifler to think her own adventures important, and to tell them to thofe who do not wifh to hear them: but the ſecond paper has betrayed you. Can you think love and courtſhip ſubjects for a Trifler? If love be a Trifle, what can we call ſerious? The truth is that almost all other female employments are the ſports of idlenefs; and that they ſeldom ceaſe to trifle till they begin to love.

It is impoffible in reading a book not to form ſome image of the writer. You have told us little of yourſelf; and therefore your readers are left to their own conjectures. To tell you the truth, I conceive you to be a rural virgin, that after having paffed about thirty years between reading and needle-work among groves and brooks, has at the invitation of ſome great lady left her grotto and bower, and come to take a view of the ſcenes of life, with no other ideas of love or pleafure than ſhe has gathered from the amours and amuſements of her own village.

M 2

I do

164 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I do not wonder that to a votarists of ftudious tranquility, the whole bustle of the town appears a Trifle. Much of the splendor, and much of the cares of life, I fhall willingly give up to your sport or cenſure. You may ſay what you will of pleatures where no heart is light, of connections without kindneſs, of ſtruggles for precedency, of competitions for the neweſt fashion; but believe me, dear Dryad, to love and to be loved is a ſerious buſineſs; and whatever cuſtoms of courtſhip, caprice, levity, or vanity, have dictated, however the modes of approach between the ſexes may be varied by the accidents of time or place, it is not for the Trifler to treat as Trifles thofe operations which unite us for ever to tyrants or to friends, to favages or to ſages, and which terminate the flighty wit, or airy flutterer in a wife, an economift, a mother, and a grand-mother.

I am, Madam,

Your very Humble Servant,

PENELOPE SPINDLE.

THE

[ 165 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF
HARRIOT AND SOPHIA
CONTINUED.

Sophia, as if afraid she had said too much, stopped abruptly, and, fixing her eyes on the ground, continued silent, and loft in thought.

Mr. Herbert, who had well considered the purport of her words, passed over what he thought would give her too much pain to be explicit upon, and answered in great concern, “Then “my fears are true: Sir Charles is not disposed “to act like a man of honour.”

A sudden flush glowed in the cheeks of Sophia at the mention of Sir Charles's name; but it was not a flush of softness and confusion. Anger and disdain took the place of that sweet complacency, which was the usual expression of her countenance, and with a voice somewhat raised, she replied eagerly.

“Sir Charles I believe has deceived me; but “him I can despise---Yet do not imagine, Sir, “that he has dared to insult me by any unworthy “proposals: if he has any unjustifiable views “upon me, he has not had presumption enough to

M 3

make

166 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

" make me acquainted with them, otherwise than
" by neglecting to convince me that they are
" honourable; but he practises upon the easy credulity of my mother. He lays fnares for her
" gratitude by an interested generosity, as I now
" too plainly perceive; and he has the art to
" make her so much his friend, that she will not
" listen to any thing I say, which implies the least
" doubt of his honour."

Mr. Herbert sighed, and cast down his eyes.
Sophia continued in great emotion: "It is impoffible for me, Sir, to make you comprehend all
" the difficulties of my situation. A man who
" takes every form to ensnare my affections, but
" none to convince my judgment, importunes me
" continually with declarations of tendernefs, and
" complaints of my coldneſs and indifference;
" what can I do? what ought I to anſwer to such
" diſcourſe? In this perplexity, why will not my
" mother come to my affiſtance? Her years, her
" authority as a parent give her a right to require
" ſuch an explanation from Sir Charles as may free
" me from doubts, which although reaſon fuggeſts, delicacy permits me not to make appear;
" but ſuch is my misfortune, that I cannot perſuade my mother there is the least foundation
" for my fears. She is obſtinate in her good opinion of Sir Charles; and I am reduced to the
" ſad neceſſity of either acting in open contradiction to her ſentiments and commands, or of
" continuing in a ſtate of humiliating ſuspence,
" to which my character muſt at last fall a ſacriſe.

" That,

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ That, my dear child, interrupted Mr. Herbert, is a point that ought to be considered.
“ I would not mention it to you first; but since your own good sense has led the way to it, I will frankly own that I am afraid, innocent and good as you are, the censures of the world will not spare you, if you continue to receive Sir Charles's visits, doubtful as his intentions now appear to every one: I know Mrs. Darnley judges of the sincerity of his professions to you by the generofity he has shewn in the presests he has heaped upon her—but, my dear child, that generofity was always suspected by me.”

“ I confess, said Sophia, blushing, I once thought favourably of him for the attention he shewed to make my mother's life easy; but if his liberality to her be indeed, as you seem to think, a snare, what opinion ought I to form of his mo-tives for a late offer he has made her, and which at first dazzled me, so noble and so dising-terested did it appear!”

“ I know no offer but one, interrupted Mr. Herbert haftily, which you ought even to have liftened to.”

“ Then the secret admonitions of my heart were right,” cried Sophia, with an accent that at once expreſſed exultation and grief.

“ But what was this offer, child, said Mr. Herbert? I am impatient to know it.”

“ I will tell you the whole affair as it happened, resumed Sophia; but you must not be surprised, that my mother was pleased with Sir Charles's offer. He has been her benefactor, and has a

M 4

“ claim

168

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

" claim to her regard : it would be ftrange if she
" had not a good opinion of him. You know
" what that celebrated divine fays whole writings
" you have made me acquainted with : Charity
" itself commands us where we know no ill, to think
" well of all; but friendship, that goes always a pitch
" higher, gives a man a peculiar right and claim to
" the good opinion of his friend. My mother may
" be mistaken in the judgment she has formed of
" Sir Charles; but it is her friendship, for him,
" a friendship founded upon gratitude for the
" good offices he has done her, that has given rife
" to this mistake."

Sophia, in her eagerneſs to juſtify her mother,
forgot that ſhe had raſed Mr. Herbert's curioſity,
and left it unſatisfied; and the good old man,
charmed with the filial tenderneſs ſhe ſhewed upon
this occaſion, lıſtened to her with complacency,
tho' not with conviction. At length ſhe ſuddenly
recollected herſelf, and entered upon her ſtory;
but a certain heſitation in her ſpeech, accompanied
with a baſhful air that made her withdraw her eyes
from him, to fix them on the ground, intimated
plainly enough her own ſentiments of the affair ſhe
was going to acquaint him with.

" You know, Sir, faſid ſhe, Sir Charles has had
" a fit of illneſs lately, which alarmed all his
" friends. My mother was particularly attentive
" to him upon this occaſion, and I believe he was
" ſenſibly affected with her kind concern for him.
" When he recovered, he begged my mother, my
" ſifter, and myſelf, would accompany him in a
" little excursıon to Hampſtead to take the air.

" We

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" We dined there, and returning home early in
" the evening, as we passed through Brook-
" street, he ordered the coach to stop at the door
" of a very genteel house, which appeared to be
" newly painted and fitted up. Sir Charles de-
" fired us to go in with him and look at it, and
" give him our opinion of the furniture. No-
" thing could be more elegant and genteel, and
" we told him so; at which he appeared extreme-
" ly pleased, for all had been done, he said, accord-
" ing to his directions.

" He came home with us, and drank tea; after
" which he had a private conversation with my
" mother, which lasted about a quarter of an
" hour; and when they returned to the room in
" which they had left my fister and I, Sir Charles
" appeared to me to have an unusual thoughtful-
" nefs in his countenance, and my mother looked
" as if she had been weeping; yet there was, at the
" fame time, an expression of satisfaction in her face.

" He went away immediately; and my mother,
" when, eager to give vent to the emotions which
" filled her heart, exclaimed, Oh, Sophia, how
" much are you obliged to the generous affection
" of that man!"

" You may imagine, Sir, purfued Sophia, in a
" sweet confusion, that I was greatly affected with
" these words. I begged my mother to explain
" herself. Sir Charles, said she, has made you a
" prefent of that house which we went to view this
" afternoon; and here, added she, giving me a
" paper, is a deed by which he has settled three
" hundred pounds a year upon you.

"I was

170 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ I was silent, so was my fister, who looked at
“ me as if impatient to know my thoughts of this
“ extraordinary generofity. My thoughts indeed
“ were so perplexed, my notions of this manner
“ of acting so confused and uncertain, that I knew
“ not what to say. My mother told us Sir Charles
“ had declared to her, that his late illnesses had
“ given him occasion for many uneafy reflections
“ upon my account; that he shuddered with hor-
“ ror when he confidered the unhappy state of my
“ fortune, and to what difficulties I should have
“ been expofed if he had died; and that, for the
“ satisfaction of his own mind, he had made that
“ fettlement upon me, that whatever happened I
“ might be out of the reach of neceffity.

“ I am afraid, Sir, purfued Sophia with a little
“ confufion in her countenance, that you will con-
“ demn me when I tell you I was so ftruck at firft
“ with the feeming candor and tenderneſs of Sir
“ Charles's motives for this act of generofity, that
“ none but the moſt grateful ſentiments roſe in
“ my mind.”

“ No, my dear, replied Mr. Herbert, I do not
“ condemn you: this ſnare was artfully laid; but
“ when was it that your heart, or rather your rea-
“ ſon, gave you thofe ſecret admonitions you ſpoke
“ of.”

“ Immediately, faid Sophia: a moment's reflec-
tion upon the conduct of Sir Charles ſerved to
“ ſhew me that ſome latent deſign lay concealed
“ under this ſpecious offer; but I am obliged to
“ my fitter for giving me a more distinct notion of
“ it than my own confused ideas could furnish me
“ with.

“ Then

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

171

“ Then you desired to know her opinion,” said Mr. Herbert.

“ Certainly, resumed Sophia, this conversation “ passed in her presence, and as my elder sister she “ had a right to be consulted.”

“ Pray what did she say?” asked Mr. Herbert impatiently.

“ You know, Sir, said Sophia, with a gentle “ smile, my sister takes every opportunity to rally “ me about my prepositions to wit: she told me it “ was great condescension in me, who thought myself wiser than all the world besides, to ask her “ advice upon this occasion; and that she would “ not expose herself to my contempt, by declaring “ her opinion any farther than that she supposed “ Sir Charles did not consider this as a marriage- “ settlement.

“ These last words, pursued Sophia, whose face was “ now covered with a deeper blush, let in so much “ light upon my mind, that I was ashamed and “ angry with myself for having doubted a moment “ of Sir Charles’s infincerity. I thanked my sister, “ and told her she should see that I would profit by “ the hint she had given me.”

“ I wish, interrupted Mr. Herbert, that she may “ profit as much by you; but people of good understanding learn more from the ignorant than “ the ignorant do from them, because the wife “ avoid the follies of fools, but fools will not follow the example of the wife: but what did “ Mrs. Darnley say to this?”

“ I never saw her so angry with my sister before, “ replied Sophia: she said several severe things to “ her,

172

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" her, which made her leave the room in great
" emotion; and when we were alone I endeavoured
" to convince my mother that it was not fit I should
" make myself a dependant upon Sir Charles, by
" accepting such considerable presents: she was
" however of a different opinion, because Sir
" Charles's behaviour had been always respectful
" in the highest degree to me, and because the
" manner in which he made this offer left no room
" to suspect that he had any other design in it but
" to secure a provision for me, in case any thing
" should happen to him."

" Your mother imposes upon herself, replied
" Mr. Herbert; but I hope, my dear child, you
" think more justly."

" You may judge of my sentiments, Sir, an-
" fwered Sophia, by the resolution I have taken:
" I wished to consult you; but as I had no oppor-
tunity for it, I satisfied myself with doing what
" I thought you would approve. My mother,
" preft by my arguments, told me in a peevish
" way that I might act as I thought proper: upon
" which I retired, and, satisfied with this permis-
fion, I enclosed the fettlement in a cover directed
" for Sir Charles. I had juſt fealed it, and was
" going to ſend it away, when my mother came
" into my room: I perceived ſhe was defirous to
" renew the conversation about Sir Charles; but
" I carefully avoided it, for fear ſhe ſhould retract
" the permission ſhe had given me to act as I
" pleafed upon this occafion. My reſerve piqued
" her so much, that ſhe forbore to enter upon the
" ſubject again; but as I had no opportunity of
ſend-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ fending my letter that night without her know-
“ ledge, I was obliged to go to bed much richer
“ than I defired to be; and the next morning,
“ when we were at breakfast, a letter was brought
“ me from Sir Charles, dated four o'clock, in which
“ he informed me that he was juſt fetting out in a
“ poſt-chaife for Bath. His uncle, who lies there
“ at the point of death, has it ſeems earneſtly de-
“ fired to fee him, and the meſſenger told him he
“ had not a minute to loſe.”

“ I am forry, interrupted Mr. Herbert, that he
“ did not get your letter before he went.”

Sophia then taking it out of her pocket, gave
it to him, and begged he would contrive some
way to have it safely delivered to Sir Charles;
“ and now, added ſhe, my heart is eafy on that ſide,
“ and I have nothing to do but to arm myſelf
“ with fortitude to bear the tender reproaches of a
“ mother whoſe anxiety for my intereſt makes her
“ fee this affair in a very different light from that
“ in which you and I behold it.”

Mr. Herbert put the letter carefully into his
pocket-book, and promifed her it ſhould be con-
veyed to Sir Charles; then taking her hand, which
he preſs'd affectionately, “ You have another ſacri-
“ ſice yet to make, my dear good child, ſaid he,
“ and I hope it will not coſt you much to make it.
“ You muſt refolve to fee Sir Charles no more: it
“ is not fit you ſhould receive his viſits, ſince you
“ ſuſpect his deſigns are not honourable, and you
“ have but too much cauſe for ſuſpicion. It is not
“ enough to be virtuous: we muſt appear ſo like-
“ wife; we owe the world a good example, the

“ world,

174 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

“ world, which oftener rewards the appearances of
“ merit than merit itself. It will be impossible for
“ you to avoid seeing Sir Charles sometimes, if you
“ continue with your mother: you have no autho-
“ rity to forbid his visits here; and whether you
“ share them or not, they will be all placed to your
“ account. Are you willing, Miff Sophia, to go
“ into the country, and I will board you in the fa-
“ mily of a worthy clergyman, who is my friend ?
“ His wife and daughters will be agreeable com-
“ panions for you; you will find books enough in
“ his study to employ those hours which you de-
“ vote to reading, and his conversation will be al-
“ ways a source of instruction and delight.”

Sophia, with tears in her eyes, and a look so ex-
preensive that it conveyed a stronger idea of the
grateful sentiments which filled her heart, than
any words could do, thanked the good old man
for his generous offer, and told him she was ready
to leave London whenever he pleased: but un-
willing to be an incumbrance upon his little fortune,
she intreated him to be diligent in his enquiries
for a place for her, that she might early inure her-
felf to the humble condition which providence
thought fit to allot for her.

Mr. Herbert entering into her delicate scruples,
promised to procure her a proper establishment;
and it was agreed between them that he should
acquaint her mother the next day with the refo-
lution she had taken, and endeavour to procure her
consent to it.

Mr. Herbert well knew all the difficulties of this
task, and prepared himself to sustain the storm
which

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

which he expected would fall upon him. He vi-
fited Mrs. Darnley in the morning, and finding
her alone, entered at once into the affair, by tel-
ling her that he had performed the commission
Mifs Sophia had given him; that a friend of his
who was going to Bath would take care to deliver
her letter to her unworthy lover, who, added he,
will be convinced, by her returning his settlement,
that she has a just notion of his base designs, and
despises him as well for his falhood and prefump-
tion, as for the mean opinion he has entertained
of her.

Mr. Herbert, who was perfectly well acquainted
with Mrs. Darnley's character, and had studied
his part, would not give her time to recover from
the aftonishment his first words had thrown her
into, which was strongly imprinted upon her count-
enance, and which seemed to deprive her of the
power of speech; but added, with an air natural
enough, "Your conduct, Mrs. Darnley, deferves
" the highest prises; indeed I know not which to
" admire most; your disinterestedneſs, prudence,
" and judgment; or Mifs Sophia's ready obedience,
" and the noble sacrifice she makes to her honour
" and reputation. You knew her virtue might
" be securely depended upon, and you permitted
" her to act as she thought proper with regard to
" the infidious offer Sir Charles made her: thus,
" by transferring all the merit of a refusal to her,
" you reflect a double luftre upon your own, and
" she has fully answered your intentions by reject-
" ing that offer with the contempt it deferved."

While

176 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

While Mr. Herbert went on in this strain,
Mrs. Darnley insensibly forgot her resentment;
her features assumed all that complacency which
gratified vanity and self-applause could impre[s]
upon them: and although she was conscious her
sentiments were very different from those which
Mr. Herbert attributed to her, yet, as she had
really spoke those words to Sophia which had
given her a pretence to act as she had done, she
concluded his praises were sincere, and enjoyed
them as much as if she had deferved them.

It was her business now, however vexed at her
daughter's folly, as she conceived it, to seem highly
satisfied with her conduct, since what she had done
could not be recalled; yet inwardly fretting at
the lots of so noble a person, all her diffimulation
could not hinder her from saying, that although
she approved of Sophia's refusal, yet she could not
help thinking she had been very precipitate, and
that she ought to have waited till Sir Charles re-
turned; and not have sent, but have given him
back his settlement.

Mr. Herbert, without answering to that point,
told her, that what now remained for her prudence
to do was, to take away all foundation forlander,
by peremptorily forbidding Sir Charles's future
visits. Here Mrs. Darnley began to frown; "for,
" since it is plain to us all, madam, purfued he,
" without feeming to perceive her emotion, that
" marriage is not his intention, by being allowed to
" continue his addressees, mis[s] Sophia's character will
" suffer greatly in the opinion of the world; and the
" wisdom and discretion by which you have hitherto
been

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

177

“ been governed in this affair, will not secure you
“ from very unfavourable censures. To shew there-
“ fore how much you are in earneft to prevent them,
“ I think it is absolutely neceffary that you should
“ ſend your daughter out of this man’s way.”

Mrs. Darnley, who thought ſhe had an unan-
fwerable objection to make to this ſcheme, inter-
rupted him eagerly, “You know my circumſtances,
“ Mr. Herbert, you know I cannot afford to ſend
“ my daughter from me; how am I to diſpoſe of
“ her, pray?”

“ Let not that care trouble you, madam, replied
“ Mr. Herbert, I will take all this expence upon
“ myſelf: I love Mifs Sophia as well as if ſhe was
“ my own child; and ſlender as my income is, I will
“ be at the charge of her maintainance till fortune
“ and her own merit place her in a better ſituation.”

Mr. Herbert then acquainted her with the name
and character of the clergyman in whose family he
intended to board Sophia: he added, that the
place to which ſhe was going being at no great
diſtance, ſhe might hear from her frequently, and
sometimes viſit her, without much expence or
inconvenience.

Mrs. Darnley having nothing that was reaſon-
able to oppoſe to theſe kind and generous offers,
had recourse to rage and exclamation. She told
Mr. Herbert that he had no right to interpoſe in
the affairs of her family; that he ſhould not diſ-
poſe of her child as he pleafed; that ſhe would ex-
ert the authority of a parent, and no officious
medler ſhould rob her of her child.

Nº. 3.

N

Mr.

178 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Mr. Herbert now found it necessary to change his method with this interested mother, “Take “care, madam, said he, with a severe look, how far “you carry your opposition in this cafe: the “world has its eyes upon your conduct; do not “give it reason to say that your daughter is more “prudent and cautious than you are; nor force “her to do that without your consent which you “ought to be the first to advise her to.”

“Without my consent! replied Mrs. Darnley, “almost breathless with rage; will she go without “my consent, say you; have you alienated her affections from me so far? I will soon know that.”

Then rifting with a furious air, she called Sophia, who came into the room, trembling, and in the utmost agitation. The melancholy that appeared in her countenance, her paleness and disorder, the consequences of a sleepless night, which she had passed in various and afflicting thoughts, made Mr. Herbert apprehensive that her mother's obsequiousness would prove too hard for her gentle disposition; and that her heart, thus affaulted with the most powerful of all passions, love and filial tendernefs, would insensibly betray her into a consent to stay.

Mrs. Darnley giving her a look of indignation, exclaimed with the farcaustic severity with which she used formerly to treat her; “So my wife, my dutiful daughter, you cannot bear, it seems, to live “with your mother; you are resolved to run away “from me, are you?”

“Madam, replied Sophia, with a firmness that “disconcerted Mrs. Darnley, as much as it please ingly surprised Mr. Herbert, it is not you I am “run-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ ning away from, as you unkindly say, I am going into the country to force myself from the “ pur suits of a man who has impoled upon your “ goodneſs, and my credulity; one who I am con- “ vinced, ſeeks my diſhonour, and whose enſnaring “ addreſſes have already, I am afraid, given a “ wound to my reputation, which nothing but the “ reſolution I have taken to avoid him can heal.”

Poor Sophia, who had with difficulty prevailed
over her own softneſs to ſpeak in this determined
manner, could not bear to fee the confusion into
which her anſwer had thrown her mother; but
ſighing deeply, ſhe retired towards the window,
and wiped away the tears that fell from her charming
eyes.

Mrs. Darnley, who obſerved her emotion, and
well knew how to take advantage of that amiable
weakneſs in her temper, which made any oppo-
fition, however juſt and neceſſary, painful to her,
delired Mr. Herbert to leave her alone with her
daughter, adding, that his prefence was a conſtraint
upon them both.

Sophia hearing this, and dreading left he ſhould
leave her to ſuſtain the ſtorm alone, went towards
her mother, and with the moſt perſuaſive look and
accent, begged her not to part in anger from Mr.
Herbert.

“ I cannot forgive Mr. Herbert, ſaid Mrs. Darn-
ley, for ſuppoſing I am leſs concerned for your
“ honour than he is. I fee no neceſſity for your
“ going into the country; your reputation is ſaſe,
“ while you are under my care; it is time enough
“ to ſend you out of Sir Charles’s way when we

N 2

“ are

180 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ are convinced his designs are not honourable.

“ Mr. Herbert, by filling your head with groundles

“ apprehensions, will be the ruin of your fortune.”

“ Sir Charles's disembled affection for me, in-
“ terupted Sophia, will be the ruin of my charaſter.

“ There is no way to convince the world that I
“ am not the willing dupe of his artifices, but by
“ flying from him as far as I can : do not, my
“ dear mamma, purſued ſhe, burſting into tears,
“ oppoſe my going; my peace of mind, my re-
“ putation depend upon it.”

“ You ſhall go when I think proper, replied
“ Mrs. Darnley; and as for you, Sir, turning to
“ Mr. Herbert, I deſire you will not interpoſe any
“ farther in this matter.”

“ Indeed I muſt, madam, faid the good old man,
“ encouraged by a look Sophia gave him. I con-
“ fider myſelf as guardian to your daughter, and
“ in that quality I pretend to ſome right to regu-
“ late her conduct on an occafion which requires
“ a guardian's care and authority.”

“ Ridiculous ! exclaimed Mrs. Darnley, with a
“ malignant ſneer, what a jeſt! to call yourſelt
“ guardian to a girl who has not a ſhilling to de-
“ pend upon.”

“ I am the guardian of her honour and repu-
tation, faid Mr. Herbert: theſe make up her
“ fortune; and with theſe ſhe is richer than if the
“ poſſeſſed thouſands without them.”

“ And do you, mifs, faid Mrs. Darnley to her
“ daughter, with a ſcornful air, do you allow this
“ foolish claim? Are you this gentleman's ward,
“ pray?”

“ Come,

[ 182 ]

TO THE

Author of the LADY'S MUSEUM.

MADAM,

AS I apprehend the object of this publication is no less the moral than the literary improvement of your sex, permit me, through the channel of this useful work, to point out to your fair readers the fatal consequences of an opinion too generally received among them.

The opinion I could wish to see corrected is, that grandeur and happiness signify one and the same thing. How far the fame wrong notion prevails among men, is not my present purpose to examine; but I will venture to affirm, that in the system of female logic, grandeur and happiness are convertible terms. It is not surprising that this notion should be extremely prevalent, when we consider, that the whole system of female education tends to promote and extend it. Whence is it, that many misfortunes are intruded in accomplishments evidently above their rank, but in order to obtain a station in life to which they could not reasonably aspire.

In truth, it is more the vanity of being thought to possess such accomplishments than any pleasure arising from those attainments, that is the inducement to pursue them. I have been assured by the parents of many young ladies, that their daughters were perfectresses of French, music, &c. when upon a better acquaintance, I plainly perceived, they had been at much expence only to say they had been learners.

I would

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

I would not be thought to mean, that the po-
lite accomplishments are not very useful and be-
coming to persons of a certain rank and character;
but I would observe, that the promiscuous aim of
all ranks of females, to acquire those elegant dif-
tinctions, evidently proves my first principle, namely,
that an appetite for vanity and splendor pervades
the whole system of modern education.

The polite attainments too frequently give
young ladies of middling station an unhappy pro-
penfity to diffipation and pleasure, and indispose
them to the ordinary and necessary occupations of
life. It may be useful to confider what probability
there is, that an appetite for diffination may be
gratified, and then examine what superior happi-
ness such envied diffinations necessarily confer.

I shall take it for granted, that a good establi-
ment in marriage is the object of most women's
wishes. It has been computed that nineteen mar-
riages in twenty, among persons of liberal condi-
tion, are concluded upon no great inequality of
circumstances. It is plain then, that a lady who
flatters herself, that she shall marry above her rank,
runs no lefs a risk that twenty to one of a difap-
pointment. In fact this is unavoidable; for per-
sons of rank and opulence are not very numerous,
and frequently intermarry with each other: yet
upon so flender a prospect has many a poor lady
tired both herself and the public with a repetition of
her countenance for many years past at every place
of amusement.

To these dazzling and delusive hopes are ease
and contentment often sacrificed, from a mistaken

N 4

opi-

184 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

opinion that grandeur and happiness are inseparable; or rather, that the latter was not possible without the former: hence anxious days and sleepless nights, not to mention that virtue is much endangered by pur suits giddy and fantastical. After years of vain expectation the point in view is at a greater distance than ever, to obtain which dancing-mafters and milliners have affi sted in vain. If it be said, that we hear sometimes of ladies, who from private stations have rose to great rank and riches, I answer, that particular exceptions conclude nothing against the general observation, that unreasonable expectation muft almost always be disappointed.

Instances of surprising good fortune happen in
all pur suits, and feeming accident will have its
f share in the happy events of matrimony, as well as
in moft others. But if young people inflame their
imaginations with extraordinary occurrences, and
foar upon the waxen wings of expectation to re-
gions of imaginary blifs, they will quickly find,
like Icarus, misfortune interrupting the dream of
vanity, and may poffibly pay almost as dear for the
experiment.

With respect to the bleffings of Providence, we
rather lament the absence of things perhaps not
necessary, than make a proper use of those we have.
It sufficiently appears, that a passion for grandeur
is not likely to be gratified; and that such wishes
muſt, in the nature of things, much oftener miſ-
carry than succeed.

But for once let us suppeſe the point obtained,
and examine what happineſs is annexed to that en-
vied condition. Providence, for the wifeft reafons,
has

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

has made a great difference in the external circum-
stances of his creatures, but not in their happineſs.
In fact, the greatest bleſſings of life are proposed
in common to us all. Health and an approving
conſcience are the grand ſatisfactions of our being,
as fin and pain are almost the only evils: nor can
we cease to adore that goodneſs who has made the
best things in life attainable by all conditions, with-
out a poſſibility of interfering with each other. In
these two grand articles, it appears, that perſons of
wealth and ſtation have no advantage over more
moderate conditions. The former are more expoſed
to temptations, and a full tide of prosperity has
been always reckoned dangerous to virtue.

Besides, those who have large poſſeffions and
connexions are much broader marks for misfortune
than others. Socrates accounted those happieſt
who had feweſt wants, as the happieſt of all beings
is he who wants nothing. The more our wants
are enlarged, and our appetites indulged, they be-
come more ungovernable, and exceed our powers
of satisfying them. Such perſons are expoſed to
perpetual disappointment, as it is much easier to
imagine than obtain.

How many perſons may we not prefume, who
are ſhining themselves, and ſhone on by fortune,
that are inwardly miferable, and ſick of life? Wealth
and ſtation may indeed procure a great variety of
ſenſual gratifications, out of the reach of humbler
fortunes: but of what nature are ſuch pleaſures?
ſleeting and diſſatisfactory in the conſeſſion of all.

Let us reflect a little on the moſt exalted plea-
fures our nature is capable of. We ſhall find them

attain-

186 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

attainable by private stations, and from some of
the best of them the very lowest conditions not ex-
cluded. Even those who are condemned to the
drudgery of manual labour may, and do often en-
joy a healthful body and a tranquil mind. Though
they are in a great measure excluded from in-
tellectual enjoyments, yet even this view of their
condition is not without its compensations. It will
not be denied, that our best enjoyments here below
arise from temperance, moderate desires, easy re-
flexions, and a consciousness of knowledge and vir-
tue. I would ask my fair countrywomen, whether
high rank and great riches are necessary to these at-
tainments? The purest and most substantial plea-
fures are certainly those arising from religion and
virtue; the pleasures of knowledge, and of friend-
ship: which are attainable by the middling, if
not all classes of life, depend much upon ourselves,
and are little subject to accident or diminution. So
far from being the constant companions of rank and
riches, that perhaps they are feldomer found a-
mong persons of elevated stations than most others.
It were easy to assign the reasons; as the necessities
of life are not difficult to obtain, so neither are its
best comforts. A person must have reflected in-
deed to very little purpose who is not sensible, that
the prospect of the divine favour in another life, is
the grand foundation of contentment in this im-
perfect and probationary state.

It will be said, that a competency of the good
things of life, is necessary to our happiness, and
truly desirable. Most undoubtedly it is: but the
misfortune is, our ideas of a competency are not
taken

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

taken from nature, or even from our proper station and character, but from our imaginations and wrong habits; and what is yet more preposterous, from our comparisons with others.

A competency is not to be defined, because it varies according to the station and necessities of individuals. To use a familiar comparison---Suppose a person undertakes a journey into a remote country, and has sufficient to defray his necessary expences, may he not enjoy the true pleasures of the scene equally with him who travels the same journey, attended with all the parade of equipage, and encumbered with a superfluity of wealth? May not as successful a voyage be made in a small, convenient bark, as in a galley no less splendid than Cleopatra's?

Let nothing here advanced be supposed to mean, that wealth and station incapacitate their possessors from enjoying the truest happiness of their nature. Among other advantages in common with their fellow-creatures, they eminently enjoy the godlike power of doing good to others. It is the exercise of that power that gives rank and riches their true dignity, and is the constant employment of him who is the source of all excellence. But let not people mistake that which may be made the means of happiness for the necessary and never failing cause of it; nor repine at the want of those distinctions in the possession of which there occur so many examples extremely miserable.

I cannot conclude this letter without observing, that an appetite for grandeur very fatally predominates at a crisis in life, wherein, of all others,

it

188 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

it behoves us to act with the truest wisdom: I mean at the time of marriage. Matches are now deemed good for bad, not from the qualities, but the external circumstances of the parties. The opinion of Themistocles, like many other old opinions, is quite exploded, who declared, " That he " would rather marry his daughter to a man without an estate, than to an estate without a man."

The candidates for the ladies affections, or more properly their fortunes, undergo the most exact scrutiny into their estates, expectations, and alliances; nor is any enquiry omitted, but into their sense and morals. If your fair readers please to extend this charge to their admirers, they have my consent, only remembering, that folly on one side, never excuses it on another; and that they are most likely to be greater sufferers by an ill choice, as their condition is more dependent.

It is agreed on all fides, that the sure supports of conjugal felicity are the unreferved friendship and mutual esteem of the parties: now it is an axiom, that friendship cannot exist but between virtuous minds; and surely no dreams of a lunatic were ever more visionary, than to fuppose there can be any abiding pleasure without virtue, since in our system of being there is nothing durable but the consequences of it.

Many a thoughtless female, who despised all considerations but rank and riches, serves only to exhibit a wretched spectacle of their insufficiency. I doubt not but this essay may fall into the hands of some of your fair readers, who have dragged out an infipid length of days, doating about vain and perishable

THE LADY's MUSEUM. 189

perishable distinctions, and have funk into utter contempt and oblivion, who, by a better conduct, might have enjoyed happy and comfortable eftablishments.

Let those whose cafes are retrievable, consider that elevation must ever be the lot of very few; nor when it is attained does it invariably produce happiness. The truest satisfactions in life are not necessarily connected with great estates or coronets, but are to be found among persons of all conditions, whose lives are governed by sense and virtue. Of one thing they may be infallibly certain, that a life conducted by vanity cannot fail to end in misery.

I am, Madam,

Your very Humble Servant,

W. M.

PHI-

[ 190 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF THE
COUNT DE COMMINGE
CONTINUED.

Hearing her speak with unusual emotion, I approach'd her: she was giving her mother an account of what had happened. Madame de Luffan was as much offended at the chevalier's behaviour as her daughter. I was silent: I even continued my walk with the ladies. When they retired, I sent a message to the chevalier: he was at home, and in consequence of my deferring him to meet me, he came instantly to the place appointed.

"I cannot perLLUade myself, said I, approach-
ing him, that what has happened during our
" walk to-day, is more than a mere pleafantry :
" you are too gallant and well bred, to keep a la-
dy's picture, contrary to her inclination."

"I know not, anfwered he warmly, what in-
tereft you take in my keeping or reftoring it;
" but I know that I neither need, nor will accept
" of your advice." "Then, replied I, clapping
" my hand to my fword, I will force you to re-
" ceive it in this manner."

6

The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The chevalier was brave. He eagerly answered my defiance: we fought for some time with equal successes; but he was not animated like me with the desire of serving what I loved. He wounded me lightly in two places; but I gave him two large wounds, and obliged him both to ask his life, and to resign the picture. After I had assisted him to rise, and had conducted him to the nearest house, I retired to my own lodgings, where as soon as the wounds I had received were dreft, I let myself to contemplate the lovely picture, and kissed it a thousand and a thousand times.

I had a genius for painting, which I had taken some pains to cultivate; yet I was far from being a master in the art: but what will not love accomplish? I undertook to copy this portrait. I spent two days in this employment. Delightful task! I succeeded so well, that even a very discerning eye might have mistaken mine for the original. This inspired me with the thought of substituting one for the other, by which contrivance I should have the advantage of keeping that which belonged to Adelaida; and she, without knowing it, would always bear my work about her.

These trifles to one who truly loves are matters of great importance, and my heart knew how to let a full value on them.

After I had fastened the picture I had painted to the riband in such a manner that my cheat could not be discovered, I presented it to Adelaida. Madame de Luffan expreſs'd herself highly obliged to me. Adelaida said little: she seemed embarraſſed; but in the midft of that embaraſſment, I thought I

dif-

192 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

discovered that she was pleased at having received
this little obligation from me, and that thought
gave me real transport.

I have in my life experienced some of those
happy moments; and had my misfortunes been
only common ones, I should not have believed them
too dearly purchased.

After this little adventure, I found extremely
well in the esteem of Madame de Luffan. I was
always at her lodgings : I saw Adelaida every hour
in the day; and although I did not speak to her of
my passion, yet I was sure she knew it, and I had
reason to believe she did not hate me. Hearts as
fertible as ours were, quickly understand each other :
to them every thing is expression.

I had lived two months in this manner, when I
received a letter from my father, in which he com-
manded me to return immediately. This com-
mand was to me like the stroke of a thunder-bolt :
my whole soul had been engrossed with the plea-
fure of seeing and loving Adelaida. The idea of
leaving her was wholly new to me; the horror of
parting from her, the consequence of the law-suit
between our families, rose to my thoughts with every aggravation to distract me.

[To be continued.]

The following Essay, on the original inhabitants
of Great Britain, is the composition of a noble-
man, distinguished for his genius, taste, and
learning.

AN

[ 193 ]

AN

ESSAY

ON THE

Original Inhabitants of GREAT BRITAIN.

THE history of every nation in the world begins in a dark and fabulous manner: not can any history be more obscure than that of Great Britain. It is impossible to guess when, or by whom our island was originally peopled. The conjectures on this head have been various; but as they amount only to conjectures, and as the point itself is of no real importance, I shall pass directly forward to the first accounts upon which we may place any reliance. The original inhabitants are represented as confining of two classes, Priests and Soldiers. The whole island, at least that part of it called South Britain, was divided into small provinces, each of which was allotted to the sovereignty of a prince. These princes lived in constant warfare and contention. The priests were distinguished by the name of Druids; but their power was not only confined to the ceremonies of sacrifice, and other religious parts of worship, it extended to the government of all civil judicature. To the ordinary druids, (who were

No. III.

O

very

194 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

very numerous, but seldom or ever of mean birth)
was committed the administration of justice in
the several provinces, the determination of all
caufes, and the judicial decision of right and wrong;
but still subject to the supreme jurisdiction of one
chief druid, who, in dignity, excelled all the
reft; and who, in civil affairs, had the power of a
king, while in religious matters, he might be called
the reigning Pope of those days.

The military men were brave, even to a degree
of fiercenerfs. They had never felt the effects of
fear, fatigue, or luxury. They had been bred in
woods, and inured to hardships. Agriculture and
merchandize had made little or no progres in the
kingdom. The conftant diet of the people was milk
and flefh-meat, of both which they had great
plenty, the whole ifland being filled with various
kinds of cattle.

Such were the Britons, when Julius Cæsar in-
vaded their country. He appeared, with his fleet,
hovering upon the coaſt of England, Auguſt the
twenty-sixth, in the year of Rome, 699, * fifty-
four or fifty-five years before the birth of Chriſt.
His pretence for this invaſion was the conſant
refuge which the Belgæ, a people of Gaul, had
received from the inhabitants of Britain, and the
perpetual succours and affiſtance which were granted
by the Britains to the enemies of Rome. The pre-
tence was ſpecious. The true motive was a thirſt of

* Some authors place the invasion in the year 698, par-
ticularly Lydiat in his *feries fummorum magiftratum Romanorum.*
Let the learned chronologiks fettle the point.

glory.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

195

glory. Cæsar's ambition like the ocean he crost,
had no bounds.

I am inclined to think, that this enterprize was
not very acceptable to the Roman people: they
looked upon it as an hazardous undertaking.
Cicero, in one of his epiftles to Atticus, expreffes
himself thus: Britannici belli exitus expeſtatur :
conſtat enim dditus inſulæ eſſe munitos mirificis molibus:
etium illud jam cognitum eſt, neque argenti ſcripulum
eſſe illum in illa inſulâ, neque ullam ſpem prædæ, niſi
ex mancipiis: ex quibus nullos puto te literis aut mu-
ficis eruditos exſpeſtare. “ The event of the Bri-
tiſh war is waited for with impatience. It is
“ certain, that all the approaches to that inland
“ are fortified by amazing out-works: and it is
“ univerſa'ly known, that not a ſcruple of filver is
“ to be found throughout the whole inland; nor
“ are there hopes of any acquifitions except the
“ ſlaves, amongſt whom I cannot ſuppoſe you will
“ expect muſicians, or men of learning.” Tully,
we perceive, ſeems to treat the Britains rather in a
ſneering manner, than to ſpeak of them with his
uſual, lively, but weighty manner of expreſſion.
He has no great opinion of their genius, or of their
learning. But however illiterate, or however un-
ſkilled in muſic our anceſtors might appear, it can-
not be denied, that they were not only couragious,
but of a liberal nature, totally devoid of all low
art, but not totally unverſed in the policy of war.
Cæsar gives an account of them, which as it comes
from an enemy is very much to their honour. He
ſays, he had great difficulty in landing, being an-
noyed by their darts, and oppoſed by their cavalry;

O 2

and

196 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and when he had brought his troops to an engage-
ment, he confesses, that the battle was maintained
with sharpnes on both sides. Pugnatum eſt ab
utrisque acriter. At length the Roman arms pre-
vailed. The inlanders gave way, retired to their
woods, and immediately ſent ambaſſadors to ſue
for terms of peace. Cæsar, upon the arrival of
the ambaſſadors reproached the Britons, as having
acted ungenerouſly, by imprifoning his friend
Comius, whom he had ſent into England, ſome
time before, with his own particular commands.
Their excufe is remarkable. Ejus rei culpam in
multitudinem contulerunt, et propter imprudentiam ut
ignoſceretur petiverunt. "They acknowledged their
" imprudence, begged that it might be forgiven,
" and fixed the rafhneſs of the action entirely upon
" the common people." So powerful and un-
governable, even at that time, was an English rab-
ble. Cæsar, gentle and compassionate, both by
nature and policy, received the excufe, demanded
hoſtages, and granted terms of peace.

The peace on the side of the Britons was an act
of necessity, not of choice. Perhaps it was no leſs
so on the side of the Romans. They would have
penetrated farther into the inland; they would have
viſited the coaſts and would have confidered the
various parts that might have afforded them a
refuge in any future invaſion, if they had not met
with a people very different from what they ex-
pected. They expected wild ſavages, they met
with real ſoldiers. They had been uſed to ſtrike
terror upon the continent, they only excited ſpirit
and unanimity in a little inland, where they found

COU-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

courage instead of fear; and order instead of con-
fusion.

Cæsar, at his first expedition from Belgic Gaul
into Britain, had left his cavalry behind him.
They were detained by contrary winds in a port
at some distance from that where he had embarked:
He had given orders that they should follow, on
the earliest opportunity, loaded with arms, ammu-
nition, and soldiers: and four days after his arrival
in England, they had obeyed those orders, and
were more than half way over the British channel,
when a sudden storm turned the ships entirely
out of their course, and not only forced back many
of them to the continent, but drove others to the
most western part of the island. At the same time,
the vessels which had transported Cæsar, and which
had remained at anchor upon the British coast,
were much shattered by the tempest. Twelve of
them were absolutely lost; and the Romans saw
themselves at once deprived of all hopes of pro-
vision, except such as could be procured from the
inlanders, by sending out parties to forage at a
small distance from the Roman camp.

From these unexpected circumstances, the Britons resolved to reap advantage: they assembled their disbanded troops with great privacy and expedition, and while one of the Roman legions was sent out to forage, they suddenly surrounded the foragers, and must immediately have destroyed the rest, if Cæsar with amazing alacrity had not haftened to their affiftance. The sudden appearance of Cæsar, although attended only by two co-horts, put the Britons to a stand, and the Romans

O 3

did

198 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

did not think themselves, at that time, sufficiently
prepared for an engagement. Each party retired;
the Britons to the woods, the Romans to their
camp.

Here the Britons seem to have been defective
in military conduct. They ought to have purfued
their blow: they ought to have attacked Cæsar;
and in the true spirit of liberty, they ought either
to have conquered, or to have died. It is proba-
ble that they perceived their error, and it is pof-
fible, they might have retrieved it, if a succession
of rain and storms for many days together, had
not rendered all efforts against the enemy imprac-
ticable.

As soon as the weather changed, the Britons came
out of their retirement, and marched to attack
the Romans in their trenches. Cæsar drew out
his legions before the camp; both armies engaged,
and both fought with equal spirit and resolution;
but the Romans were better disciplined, and more
perfect masters of the art of war: so that the un-
happy Britons were routed, and again compelled
to sue for peace, from the hands of an invader,
who, although the greatest man that ever lived,
must ever appear as lawlets a tyrant to Britain as
to Rome. Cæsar was not sorry to be sollicited
for terms of peace: he received the ambassadors
in his usual attractive manner, and lost no time in
fetling the terms of accommodation. He inflected
upon a greater number of hoftages than he had
before required; and, under pretence of avoiding
the storms that generally rage in the British seas at
the

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

the autumnal equinox, he embarked his troops,
and haftened back to Gaul.

Cæsar, during his short residence in Britain,
had observed enough of this new world, to make
him tacitly resolve upon a second invasion. The
woods were large, the cattle numerous, and the
inhabitants a brave people, worthy of being con-
quered.

A finer object could not have presented itself to
the eye of ambition. However, Cæsar passed his
winter as usual in Italy, without any open decla-
ration of returning into England. In the mean
time, the Britons, filled with anger, indignation,
and disappointment, and perhaps guided by the
dictates of pride, revenge, and obsequy, were de-
termined not to send the hoardes, which had been
peremptorily required on one side, and had been faith-
fully promised on the other. Cæsar let some months
pass before he took notice of so notorious a breach
of faith; and in this particular he acted with all
the subtilty of a miser, who, when he has obtained
a mortgage upon an estate, purposely suffers the in-
terest of it to run on, till he can claim a right
of seizing the premises, and defying all equity of
redemption.

In the year of Rome 700, Cæsar, who, during
the winter, had been making various preparations
for a second attempt upon England, put his design
into execution. He set sail late in the evening
from the Portus Itius*, and arrived the next

* The Portus Itius was near Bologna. The particular spot is pointed out, but with no absolute certainty.

O 4

day

200 THE LADY'S MUSEUM,

day* about noon upon the British coast. His
army consifted of two thousand horse, and five le-
gions† of foot; and his ships, including transports
and every other fort, amounted to above eight
hundred. Such a number of vessels appearing at
once upon the ocean, was a terrifying circumstance
to the Britons: they imagined Cæsar's military
forces much more numerous than they really were;
and they immediately withdrew their troops from
the shore, and retired into a more covered part of
the country; so that Cæsar landed his men, and
fixed his camp without the least opposition. His
first enquiry was, into what part of the island the
Britons had withdrawn; and having learnt their
particular situation, he left a sufficient number of
forces to guard his fleet, and proceeded with the
rest in pursuit of the enemy. The islanders had
expected his approach, and were prepared to re-
ceive him, by having fixed themselves upon a ri-
fing-ground near a river, at the distance of about
twelve miles from the shore. Here they en-
deavoured to oppose him by their chariots ‡ and
their cavalry; but in vain. The Roman horse
pre-

* Cæsar, in his Commentaries, 'has not told us the exact month of his embarkation; but we may be certain, that it was earlier in the summer than his first invasion.'

† A legion consifted of ten companies, or cohorts. The number of men were uncertain: sometimes more, sometimes less.

‡ Cæsar very particularly describes their manner of fighting, (ex effedis) from their chariots: and says, that by continual use they were arrived at such perfection in the management of those vehicles, that they could stop their horses even upon

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

201

prevailed, and the Britons again withdrew to their woods. They were there fortified, as Cæsar tells us, both by art and nature. The woods were very thick, and the paflage into them was rendered extremely difficult, by large trees, which had been cut down, and heaped upon each other to a great height. The Britons had made ufe of this method of fortification, in their civil wars: but the Romans foon made their way over theſe entrenchments, and expelled the Britons even from the woods, where they had taken ſhelter. A ſmall number of regular troops will infallibly conquer a much larger number of undifciplined forces. The Roman army confiſted of veterans, who had been trained up from their youth in the art of war; and had carried their arms over the greatest part of the world. The Britons had only pradtijed the military ſcience within their own iſland, and in conteſts againſt each other. They were equal in courage, but inferior in ſkill to their enemies. In ſome meaſure to remedy this defect, they enliſted themſelves under the greatest commander of thofe days, Caſſivellaunus, prince or ſovereign of the Caſſi, and the Trinobantes. The Trinobantian territories*, were

upon a ſteep DESCENT: they could run upon the pole, and throw themſelves out, or into their chariots, with the utmoſt nimblenesſs. Cæsar confesses, that at the firſt fight of this new method of fighting, the Romans were ſurprisſed, or rather aſtoniſhed.

* The territories of Caſſivellaunus were extenſive: they extended, ſays Cæsar, “Fourſcore miles into the iſland.” Caſſivellaunus was originally the king of the Caſſi, and became ſovereign of the Trinobantes, by treacherouſly ſlaying their king Imanuentius.

Hert-

202 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Hertfordshire, Essex, and a great part of Middlesex. The municipal city of this colony, was *Verulam*, Verulam, the walls of which, built probably in the time of Agricola, are still to be seen in the approaches to St. Alban's.

Several skirmishes passed between the Britons and the Romans; in one of which the former gained some small advantage. But what force could repel Cæsar? He still marched forward towards the river Thames, resolving to cross it at the only place where it was fordable. Cassivelaunus had foreseen his design, and had drawn up a large body of British troops on the opposite shore. He had fortified the banks with palisades, and had driven into the bottom of the river a great number of sharp stakes * whole tops were covered by the water. He had used every precaution that courage, sagacity, and preference of mind could fuggeft; but the Romans were determined not to be repulsed. Their cavalry first entered the river, the legions immediately followed, and notwithstanding all impediments, passed across the Thames, with such expedition, and approached the enemy with so much vigour, that the Britons, unable to suftain the assault, quitted the banks of the river, and fled farther into the country.

Cassivelaunus still continued to make some attempts against the Romans; but his designs con-

* A little above Walton in Surry. The translator of Rapin says, that these stakes are now to be seen in the river at low water; and one of them was pulled up, with great difficulty, some years ago. They are of oak, and by having lain so long in the water (above eighteen centuries) are become very hard and very black.

ftantly

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ftantly proved abortive. The repeated victories
of Cæsar, the inteftine broils of the kingdom, the
immediate prefence of a powerful invader, were
all circumftances that tended to damp the fpirits
of an unexperienced, and a disunited people.
Many of the principalities (for so I think we may
call the ſeveral Diftricts of the Inland) began to
entertain thoughts of ſuing for an accommodation
with Cæsar. The Trinobantes fet the example:
they offered to ſubmit to the conqueror, and to
give themſelves up to his diſpoſal: at the fame
time requeſting, that he would deliver them from
the tyranny of Caffivelaunus, and aſſign the go-
vernment, of their colony to Mandubratius, the ſon
of Imanuentius their late king.

Cæsar, ever fond of ſhewing acts of mercy and
benevolence, accepted their offers and granted
their requeſt*. The example of the Trinobantes
was ſoon followed by ſeveral of the other colonies,
and the unfortunate Caffivelaunus found himſelf
defferted on every ſide. His capital, a capital in-
deed of huts and hovels, was taken, plundered,
and deſtroyed. What ſtep was left then for this un-
happy prince ? only an absolute ſubmiſſion to the
conqueror. A true Briton is always unwilling to
ſubmit, and Caffivelaunus deferred his ſubmiſſion
to the lateſt hour : however, as he was a man of
ſenſe, as well as a man of ſpirit, and as all the in-
ferior generals † were undermining him by ma-
king terms for themſelves, he reſolved to put an

* Mandubratius, upon the death of his father, had fled into Gaul to Cæsar, who received him with great kindneſs.
† Principes.

204

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

end to a disadvantageous war, and to fend am-
bassadors to the enemy, with offers * of a surrender.
Julius Cæsar received them like Julius Cæsar.
He exerted no acts of tyranny by the victorious
progrefs of his arms; he impoſed no hard terms
of accommodation : but he required, in the ſtyle
of a conqueror, the ſtrongest affurances from Caſ-
ſivelaunus, of never attempting any injuries towards
Mandubratius, or the Trinobantes. He received
hoſtages for the performance of this contract; and
he extracted a ſmall annual tribute, to be paid by
the ſtates of Britain to the Roman people. After
theſe tranſactions, he took the advantage of a calm
ſeason, and failed back with his army into Gaul.

The character of Caſſivelaunus, as a general, muſt
always ſhine with great luſtre in the Englifh annals.
*Si pergama dextra defendi poſſent etiam hac defenſa
fuiffent.* "If Britons could have been defended, ſuch a
" right hand had defended them," But his behaviour
to the Trinobantes appears by their complaints to
Cæsar, to have been tyrannical: and his murder
of Imanuentius carries with it all the marks of a
ſavage barbarity. Yet perhaps in the ſeizure of
the Trinobantian colony he was affiſted by the inha-
bitants themſelves; for I am apt to imagine, that
even in thofe early days, the Britons were fond of
making and unmaking kings.

† * Caſſivelaunus having been appointed in a ſolemn aſſem-
bly of the Britiſh princes, the captain general in chief, or
the Agamemnon of the Englifh forces, he was empowered
to make ſuch offers as he thought proper, in the name of him-
felf, and of the whole people of Britain.

Till

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

Till Cæsar's death, which was in the year of Rome
711, the Britons remained unmolested by inva-
sions, but still tributary to the Roman people.
The murderer of the mighty Julius was attended
by all the violence and distraction of civil war;
and the Romans were for some years too intensely
employed upon the continent to turn their thoughts
towards a distant western island, that at that time
appeared of little consequence to the southern
part of the world.

During this interval, it is not improbable that the
Britons made some improvements in their man-
ners, and some advantages in their trade. Julius
Cæsar describes the inhabitants of the sea-coasts,
those coasts that were nearest to Gaul, as a mixture
of the Belgæ and the Britons. The people who
were situated beyond the Thames, and in the most
inland parts of the island, confused, he says, en-
tirely of natives. These, indeed, he represents in
general as men, who had scarce any prepositions to
the dignity of human nature, except the figure.

Let us therefore remember that the Romans
owed their origin to thieves and vagabonds; and
that Great Britain owes her glory to favages and
wild men. The heralds must decide which of
the two sets of Aborigines are entitled to the more-
dignified coat of arms.

During the reign of Augustus the Britons re-
mained entirely unmolested by the Romans. The
island was looked upon as a kingdom that had
rather added personal fame to Julius Cæsar than
remarkable advantage to the empire of Rome.
Augustus was in no degree equal to his uncle in

a war-

308 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

filken monument in which he lies interred for a
short space, and then fallies forth an elegant fly,
compleat in every part, and as different from the
worm it sprung from as fire from earth, or any the
most pure can be from the greatest being. In this
most perfect state, he ranges through creation, seems
to be divested even of the necessities of nature (for
in the fly-state none of those creatures take any
food) and in short appears to be transformed into
a perfect fylph, destined to nothing but the perpe-
tuating of its species, which being once infured, it
re signs its life as no longer worth the preserva-
tion.

To the first class of these changes may be re-
ferred every one of the gnat, midge, dragon-fly,
and ichneumon fly; and to the latter all the
fly, moth, and butterfly species. Were we to enter
into particulars, the detail would be endless. This
sketch, however, may suffice to turn the soul of
man to a reflection on the viciffitude and fluctua-
tion of his own state, and to remind him that
after the alterations he meets with in this life, which
only lead him to that state of infenfibility, that
even the minuteft infedt seems obliged to pass thro'
ere it can reach its limited degree of perfection;
there muſt be some final state ſuperior to them all,
and which, with him, has the advantage denied to
these symbols of his happineſs, that it ſhall laſt to
all eternity.

6

The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The Natural HISTORY of the FORMICA-LEO,
or LION-PISMIRE.

Nature who has with the utmoft care allotted
to every ſpecies of animals its peculiar place of
reſidence and its peculiar kind of food, has
also with equal wifdom furniſhed every individual
with the means of rendering ſuch habitation the
moſt commodious, and of procuring ſuch food
with the greateſt eafe. Numberleſs expedients,
numberleſs ſtratagems has ſhe inſtructed even the
minutew ſinſects in, for the enſnaring and over-
powering thoſe animals which ſhe has deſtined
to be his prey. Of theſe we ſhall in the course of
this work relate many, of which, however, there
are ſew more curious, and at the fame time more
ſimple than that of the little animal which now
falls under our conſideration.

The formica - leo, or lion-pismire, is a very
ſmall ſinſect, not much bigger than a large em-
met, which, however, notwithstanding its name,
bears no reſemblance to the pismire class, either in
its figure or diſpoſition. On the contrary, as the
laborious ant ranges about every where with the
greateſt industry to find its food in the ſummer-
time, and lay it up in ſtorehouses for the winter;
the animal we are ſpeaking of keeps itself ever con-
fined to a ſingle ſpot, waiting with a moſt amazing
degree of patience and perſeverance for the ſupply
of the preſent moment, as chance ſhall throw it
in its way; nay, even when that chance has ſo far
favoured him as to bring ſome devoted victim to-
wards his cell, he inſtead of advancing forwards to

X 3

lay

310 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

lay hold on it, conftantly retires from it, as if he
feemed to make it a point that the deftruction of
it fhould be entirely its own act, or unavoidable
misfortune.

The form of the lion-pifmire is that repreſented
at Fig. I. and II. in the plate annexed to this work,
of which the firſt repreſents the back, and the other
the belly, although both about four times as big as
life. The body of it is of an annular texture, by
which means the tail is rendered extremely pliable
and apt for the uſe which we ſhall hereafter de-
ſcribe. It has fix legs, placed as thofe of moſt in-
ſeets are in the thorax. Its head is ſmall and flat,
and from the forepart of it two pretty long horns
ſhoot out, and between them a pair of ferrated or
faw-like forcipes, wherewith it deſtroys and tears to
pieces thofe creatures which are unfortunate enough
to fall within its reach. The horns are about the
fixth part of an inch in length, and bend like
hooks in the extremity. Towards their inſertion
appear two ſmall eyes very black and lively, and
which are extremely ſerviceable to the creature, for
he ſtarts from the ſmallest objects he diſcovers.
Other animals are furniſhed with wings, or feet at
leaſt, to render them expeditious in the purſuit of
their prey. But this creature ſeems to make uſe of
his legs for little more purpofe than to bear him
backwards from his prey, which as we have be-
fore obſerved muſt come to him. He is, however,
provided with means of cauſing it to fall into the
ambufcade he prepares for it. This is the only
reſource he has for ſubſiſtence, the only piece of
skill that he is maſter of. That power, however,
which has provided for every one whatever may

be

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

be needful, has rendered this one knowledge suffi-
cient for all his purposes whilft in his terrestrial
ftate; for this creature, as we shall farther relate,
undergoes fome of thofe metamorphofes which we
have before given an account of. His method of
obtaining food is then as follows:

The place which he always chufes as fittet for
the ſcene of action is a bed of dry sand, at the foot
of a wall, or under ſome ſhelter where no rain can
come at it, either to diſconcert his work, or prevent
the effect of his operations; which could by no
means anſwer their intended purpose, were they to
be attempted either in a ſolid foil, or in a moift
fand, neither of which would be tractable to his
tools, or become ſerviceable to the completion of
his deſign.

He begins to werk then, by bending the hinder
part of his body which tapers into a point, and then
plunging it like a plough-ſhare into the sand, which
he throws up in his rear with a backward motion
of his body; and thus by repeating his efforts, and
taking ſeveral rounds, he at laſt traces out a circu-
lar furrow, whose diameter always equals the depth
which he intends to ſink it. Near the edge of the
firſt furrow he opens a ſecond, and then a third,
and ſo on to a great number, every one of which
is ſmaller then the preceding one; ſinking him-
felf from time to time deeper and deeper in the
fand, which he throws wide with his horns, ſtill
caſting it up behind him with his tail as with a
ſpade, and by the repeated ſtrokes of his head
whirling it out of the circle till he has compleatly

formed

X 4

312 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

formed his cell, which is a cavity in the form of an
inverted cone, or the inside of a funnel.

This cell is larger or smaller in proportion to the
growth, and consequently to the size of the animal;
but in a full grown one, is sometimes upwards of
two inches in diameter and as much in
depth.

When this loose and unstable fabric is thus
finished, he forms his ambuscade in the center of
it, concealing himself in such a manner under the
fand, that his horns form an exact circle round the
central termination, or apex of the cone. In this
situation he remains entirely motionless watching
for his prey, which is composed of small insects
of many kinds, more especially the female ant,
who being unprovided with wings, like the gener-
lity of insects, is less able to escape when once she
falls into the snare. Other animals, however, are
far from being safe from the dexterity of this skill-
ful hunter. Fatal is the moment in which any
one is so indiscreet as to venture near the edge of
this precipice, which descending in a steep slope,
and that formed of a light loose sand, immediately
gives way, and hurries it down instantly to the cen-
ter. But left its own weight should not be suf-
ficient to prevent its recovering a first false step,
no sooner does our ambuscader perceive by the fall
of some few grains of sand that a prize is near,
than by shrinking back he removes the lower sand,
and undermining the more extreme parts obliges
the bank to break and roll down, bringing down
with it, and at the same time overwhelming what-
soever happens to be near its verge.

It

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

It sometimes, however happens, that the infect thus entrapped being endowed with peculiar agility, or provided with wings, is able to rise above this first envelopement. In this case the lion-pismire defeats its efforts by whirling a large quantity of sand into the air by means of his tail above the height of the rising animal. This falling again in what to so tender a creature as a gnat, fly, or emmet, is equal to a dreadful shower of stones, the unfortunate infect beat down, overwhelmed by the tempest that pours down from every quarter, and hurried away by the instability of the sand which rolls from under his feet, falls between the serratedforcipes of his enemy, who plunging them into his body, drags it under the sand, and there triumphantly feasts on his thus devoted victim.

This great end being brought about, and our voracious animal thus fated with an ample meal fucked from the juices of his prey, his next care is to remove the carcase, left the appearance of a dead body should alarm others, and give notice of the fatal and treacherous nature of this seemingly inoffensive cavern. He therefore extends his horns, and with a sudden spring toffes the light exuvium of the slain to at least half a foot beyond the borders of his trench. And in case his habitation should in the course of one of these exploits be any way disconcerted or filled up, if the aperture becomes too large for the depth, or the declivity loses its proper slope, he instantly fets himself to work and repairs the whole, rounding, deepening, and clearing the cavity with a most amazing expertise; which done, he again conceals himself in the sand, and

314 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

and waits in an apparent ftate of inactivity for
whatever shall fall next into his fnare.

In the doing this his patience and perſeverance
are so great, and nature has provided him with
such abilities for abſtinence, that he ſometimes
paſſes whole weeks, nay months without motion,
and what is ſtill more ſurprizing without food
itſelf.

The lion-piſmire, hid at the bottom of his
trench, and whirling the ſand on an ant to pre-
vent its regaining the bank, is repreſented at Fig.
III.

The lion-piſmire, however, as I have obſerved
before, does not paſs his whole life under the form
we have here deſcribed. He is to become a fly; but
before he can undergo ſo great and extraordinary a
metamorphoſis, it is neceſſary that he ſhould paſs
through a period of temporary death, for which
ſtate he prepares in the following manner, building
to himſelf a ſecure and convenient tomb, wherein
he lies decently inurned till the appointed moment
when he is to arise from his inaſtive ſtate, and be-
come the inhabitant of another element.

When the time comes for this reſignation of his
firſt life, he troubles himſelf no further about the
order and form of his trench, but falls to work in
the ſand, ſtriking out a great number of irregu-
lar tracks in it, with an eagerneſs that appears as if
it was deſigned to throw him into a ſweat. Be this
as it will, it is certain that his body becomes at
this time covered over with a viſcous moſture,
which as he rolls himſelf about in the ſand, where-
in he plunges himſelf in every direction, fixes and

unites

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

unites all the grains he touches. With these fandy
particles and the dried giew that consolidates them,
he forms a cruft which encompasses his whole body
like a little ball of five or six twelfths of an inch
diameter (Vid. fig. IV.) Within this ball, how-
ever, he reserves to himself a sufficient space to
move about; and as a bare wall of sand would
be too harsh and cold for him to remain happily in,
he lines it throughout with a kind of silk tapestry
of his own weaving, composed of threads formed
from his bowels, of a beautiful pearl colour, and in-
finitely surpassing in fineness that of the silk-worm.
Yet whilst it is thus commodiously and elegantly
furnished within-side, the exterior still retains the
fame rugged and undefurable appearance, by which
it escapes the notice of birds and other animals
of prey, who might perhaps be tempted by a more
alluring outside.

In this situation he lives secluded from the world,
for six weeks or two months, and sometimes
more: at the end of which period nature having
performed her secret work, he divests himself of
his horns, paws, and skin, his spoils link to the
bottom of the ball, like a suit of cast-off cloathing,
and his figure is then that of the nympha, repre-
fented greatly magnified, and in two different di-
rections at Fig. V. and VI. when tearing away his
tapestry and burting his rocky enclosure, he comes
out a perfect animal of the dragon-fly kind, fu:-
nished with four large filmy wings, with which he
quits the obscurity of his former state; becomes
divested of his barbarity and subtile inclinations, as
well as of his cumbersome weight, and in short ap-
pears

316 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

pears entirely a new animal, as is shewn in Fig. VII.

The animal before us, however, is not the only
example of this kind of subtilty in the infect world.
There has heen discovered another creature, which
from the resemblance it has to the lion-pismire in
the method of digging a trench for intrapping its
prey, has been distinguished by the authors who
have described it by the name of the vermis-leo, or
lion-worm. But as what we have said of the for-
mica-leo, will equally describe the method of this
creatures procuring its food, we shall not trou-
ble our readers with any farther detail concerning
it; but content ourselves with only preenting them
a drawing of it at Fig. VIII. in the annexed copper-
plate, in which a and b represent the worm in its
first state, c shews the nympha, or second period
of its life, and d the form of the fly, or last
transformation.

THE

[ 317 ]

THE
LADY'S GEOGRAPHY
CONTINUED.

Of the MANNERS and CUSTOMS of the Inhabitants of AMBOYNA.

THE men and women do not go together to these feasts, as there are apartments in their houses appropriated to each sex, these islanders having certain laws which do not suffer all the relations of the husband to see his wife. The father, mother, and children of the same family, may indeed feed together, but not the father with the daughter-in-law, or with his grand daughters when grown up: the mother with her son-in-law or grandsons, or the brother and sister-in-law together. Nay more, they are not even permitted to see each other when eating, and if a man surprises a woman in that situation, by accident, for by design it never happens, he acquires a scandal which is not to be wiped away but by the means of making her some confiderable present. The reason of this custom with respect to relations it is not easy to guess at; but as to the separation of the sexes in general, it may be supposed that jealously, of which these people have a considerable share, must be the sole cause of it.

One

318 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

One of the principal dishes which the Amboy-
nians make use of in their feasts, is a hog's head,
with a lemon fixed between the jaws, and adorned
with a number of flowers of a very beautiful red,
called Bongayraya. This dish is always placed be-
fore those persons who stand in the highest estimation;
the other parts of their pork is dressed in
many different ways, but in every one of them
with exceeding high and savory seasonings. If
they have fish, the head is always presented to the
king of the feast, who is himself for that reason
called Kapalakan, or Fish-Head; of which, when
he has taken as much as he thinks proper, he distributes
the remainder among those who fit near him.
The turtle is one of their great delicacies, which
they stew at a distance from the fire, without any other
liquor than the juices of the animal: but they
afterwards add to it a great quantity of seasoning.
The cocoa, keago, and rice also, prepared in various
methods, form several dishes in their entertainments;
and of the two latter their bread is composed.

They have great quantities of venison and wild-
fowl, of which they are very fond, as also of the
bat, dressed after a particular manner. There is a kind
of white worm, which is found in the rotten wood of
the keago tree, of about the length and thickness of
the first joint of a man's thumb, which they roast on
little skewers, and eat very greedily; as they do also
the wawos, or reddish worms we mentioned to be
found on the kea coast. These are to be met with in
great abundance along the shore, especially in stony
places, about the season of the April full moon.

In

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

In the night time they give a light like the glow-
worm, which seems to invite people to go in fearch
of them; which they do, every one laying in his
stock at once, becaufe they make their appearance
only for about three or four days in the whole year.

In these feasts, the victuals are ever dressed by
the women, but they are always served in by men.
The principal care of the master of the feast, is
that there may be no want of victuals; every guest
has one large vessel set before him, containing fe-
veral little dishes which are filled with all kinds of
food, and after he has eaten his fill of this allow-
ance, the rest is carried home to his house by the
servants.

Their chief drink is spring water, or the milk of
the cocoa-nut. By way of wine they make use of
the towak or fin, which is extracted from a tree of
that name, and the faguweer which diltils from
another, and has nearly the taste of wormwood-
wine. Their stronger liquors are the rack and
brom made from rice, and two other kinds of spirit,
which they get from Japan and China. They are
very fond of the French and Spanish wines, but
do not greatly relish the German. The women keep
mostly to water, although they are by no means
averfe to the drinking of Spanish wine, were the
means of procuring it more accefible to them.
The use of tea and coffee is not very familiar to the
Amboynians; yet they sometimes take the former,
especially when they are visited by the Dutch, to
whose customs, whenever they come to any of their
repasts, they accommodate themselves as much as
possible.

2

Their

320 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Their manner of kindling fires is much readier
than ours; they rub two pieces of wood againft
each other, the one hard, the other soft and hollow,
near which they hold a bit of lint, which kindles
in an instant. For the making of salt, they take the
pieces of old worm-eaten wood which the sea throws
up on the shore: these they dry and reduce to
ashes, sprinkling them continually with sea-water,
till they form a mass of salt underneath them, or
else boil up the same water in a pot with the ashes
of certain leaves for two or three days successively,
at the end of which they find a quantity of very
good salt at the bottom of the vessel.

THE
LADY'S MUSEUM.

The TRIFLER.

[NUMBER V.]

THE Arabian proverb, *Shut the windows* that the house may be light, is supposed to contain some great mystery; and indeed it must be confessed that it has very much the air of a paradox: but whatever explication the wife and the learned may give to this sentence, it seems not unaptly applied to that gay part of my own sex so improperly called fine ladies, the bufines of whose lives it is to drefs, to play at cards, to fimper in the drawing-room, to languish at an opera, and coquet at a play; whose eyes being perpetually dazzled by the glare of folly and impertinence, are too weak to bear the steady ray of reason: their minds therefore are always dark; and ignorance, like a thick cloud, wraps them

NUMB. V.

Y

up

322 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

up in impenetrable gloom. To such as these then
I will suppose the Arabian sage cries, *Shut the
windows that the house may be light.*

The fine lady has no other use for her eyes but
to sparkle and languish; reading would spoil their
luftre, and incroach upon that precious time which
is all devoted to pleasure. What advantage can
she derive from books? will they teach her how to
improve her complexion, and repair the ravages
made by time in her face? Can morality, learning,
and wit, instruct one who exercises her memory
only upon cards, and has sufficient employment
for her judgment, in chusing a suit of ribbons, or a
brocade? Who never knew, what it was to think
feriously for a single moment; and whose mind
can entertain no other ideas but what dreads and
quadrille inspire.

Yet of such poor materials as these a coquet is
made, one who lays claim to boundless dominion,
who expects to subject all hearts to her way, and
dispense happiness and misery, life and death, with a
smile or frown.

That a creature so despicable as this is capable
of doing a great deal of mischief, the following
letter will show; and I do not doubt but by pub-
lishing it I shall oblige my readers as much as the
unhappy writer who makes it her requeft.

TO

[ 323 ]

TO THE

AUTHOR of the TRIFLER.

MADAM,

I Thank you for publishing the letter signed Perdita: it was a prelude to my unhappy story, which I am defirous the world should know; yet for the fake of him, who in spite of all the wrongs he has done me will be ever dear to me, I shall disguise the names of persons and places.

The facts I relate will point out the guilty only to themselves; but they will display a character, which of all others is the most dangerous to the peace of families, and to which all my misfortunes are owing.

At sixteen I was taken from the boarding-school by my mother, to have my education finished by a commerce with the fashionable world; but I received much lefs improvement from those leffons of politenefs than from the solid inferences of my father, who was a man of sense and learning, and who took pleasure in cultivating my mind.

As my fortune was very considerable, I soon had a sufficient number of admirers; and I thought myself extremely happy in being able to touch the heart of a young gentleman, who, even before he declared his passion, had engaged my tenderness.

He soon obtained my consent to demand me of my parents; his birth was at least equal to mine,

Y 2

his

324 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

his fortune superior, and his character unexceptionable: my parents therefore thought they dispoſed of me very happily by giving me to him.

A few weeks after our marriage my hufband carried me to his country-feat; the beauty of the place, my taſte for retirement, and the tender behaviour of the man I paſſionately loved, left me nothing to wifh for, and I could have been content to ſpend my whole life in this delightful abode.

We had lived here near a year without my hufband expreſſing the leaſt inclination to return to town, when I took it into my head to ſurprife him agreeably with the company of a young lady who had been my ſchool-fellow, and for whom I had a very great friendship.

I wrote to her, and invited her to ſpend a few months with me; the ſpring was now far advanced, and I gave her a moſt romantic deſcription of my charming retreat, in order to induce her to com ply with my requeſt.

She anſWERED my letter with a great deal of common place rallery upon the country, and my rufi cated taſte, and poſitively reſuſed to come.

I ſhewed her letter to Alcander, so let me call my hufband: he ſmiled when he read it. “This “is a fine modiſh lady, ſaid he, bewitched with “the pleaſures of the town; pray inſiſt upon her “coming hither, that we may make a convert “of her.”

Charmed to have it in my power to oblige him, I wrote to her immediately in ſuch preſſing terms to favour me with a viſit, that I drew a promife from

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

325

from her to comply, and a few days afterwards her
maid arrived early in the morning, and told me
her lady was following in a post-chaise, and had
fent her before to spread her toilet and prepare
every thing for her dressing as soon as she arrived.

I observed Alcander smile archly at these words,
and at the light of a great number of trunks and
band-boxes, which the servant had brought with
her. From several things that were said by this
girl, I observed that her lady was grown extremely
fantastical; and I was a little out of countenance
when I reflected, that I had done no honour to
my judgment, by introducing her as my friend to
Alcander. Alas! madam, how little did I then
imagine that this flighty creature was to rob me of
my husband's affections!

When she arrived, her appearance did not con-
tradict the opinion we had formed of her; every
look and motion, the sound of her voice, and the
turn of her expressions, were calculated to suit, by
a pretty effronterie, the masculine graces she de-
rived from her hat and feather.

I perceived that she was struck with my huf-
band's figure, and my vanity was soothed by it.
Doubtless she did not expect to see the fine gen-
tleman and the tender husband united in the per-
son of my then faithful Alcander. Ah, how dearly
have I since paid for the short triumph I then en-
joyed!

I attended Belinda, so let me call her, to her
apartment; and here, being wittens to a great deal
of lively impertinence which escaped her, I could
not help telling her, with an ironical smile, "That
she

Y 3

326 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

"She was prodigiously improved since she left the "boarding-school."

I was afraid she would have been offended by the manner in which I spoke these words; but, to my great surprize, she answered, with a low courtesy and a smile of self-approbation, "My dear, I "am vaftly obliged to you." I left her in her dressing-room, to join Alcander in the garden, who diverted himself extremely with her ridiculous affectation.

We did not see her till dinner was served; and then she appeared in full drefs, curled, powdered, and patched, as if she had been going to an affembly. The moment she saw Alcander her eyes fell to work, and there was nothing but ogling all dinner-time; whenever she spoke to him, her voice was softened, and her mouth screwed into a thousand different forms.

I might perhaps have been early alarmed at this solicitude to attract the notice of my husband, had I not observed her practice the fame airs upon the fellow that waited behind her chair, who, whenever he helped her to any thing, was sure to be met with a sparkling glance, that seemed to solicit his admiration also; for vanity will, as the poet says, *Prey upon garbage*.

I have now brought my story to that point from whence I may date all my sufferings: my heart is too full at present to permit me to proceed; I will take another opportunity to give you the sequel, and am, Madam,

Your obliged Humble Servant,

PERDITA.

[ 327 ]

DOLLY, though encouraged by the sweet
condescension of Sophia, who, to inspire her
with confidence, freely acknowledged the situation
of her own heart, blushed so much, and was in
such apparent confusion, that Sophia was concerned
at having made her a request which gave her so
much pain to comply with.

At length the innocent girl, looking up to her
with a bashful air, said, “I should be ashamed,
“dear Mifs, to own my weaknees to you, if I did
“not know that you are too generous to think
“the worfe of me for it: to be sure I have a great
“value for Mr. William; but I was not so foolish
“as to be taken with his handfomeneſs only, tho’
“indeed he is very handsome, and I am delighted
“to find that you think him ſo; but Mr. Wil-
“liam, as my father can tell you, madam, is a
“very fine ſcholar: he was educated in a great
“ſchool at London, and there is not a young ſquire
“in all this country who has half his learning, or
“knows how to behave himself ſo genteely as he

does,

Y 4

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

329

"Mr. William at that time was very fond of
being an officer too; but as he was very dutiful
"and obedient to his father, indeed Mifs Sophia
"he is one of the best young men in the world,
"he desired leave to consult him first; so about a
"year ago he came to visit his father, and has
"never been at London since; and he had not
"been long in the country before he changed his
"mind as to being an officer, and declared he
"would be a farmer like his father, and live a
country life."

"Ah Dolly, said Sophia smiling, I suspect you
were the cause of this change, my friend."

"Why indeed, replied Dolly, he has since told
"me so: but perhaps he flattered me when he said
"it; for, ah my dear Mifs, I remember what you
"said just now about the deceitfulness of men, and
"I tremble left Mr. William should be like the
"reft."

"Well, my dear, interrupted Sophia, go on with
"your story; I am impatient to know when you
"saw each other first, and how your acquaintance
"began."

"You know, madam, said Dolly, my father
"keeps us very retired: I had no opportunity of
"feeling Mr. William but at church; we had
"heard that farmer Gibbons had a fine son come
"from London, and the Sunday afterwards when
"we were at church, my fister, who is a giddy wild
"girl, as you know, kept staring about, in hopes
"of feeling him. At last he pulled me haftily, and
"whispered, look, look, Dolly, there is farmer
"Gibbons just come in, and I am sure he has got
his

330 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ his London foon with him, fee what a handsome
“ young man he is, and how genteely he is dreft !

“ Well, madam, I looked up, and to be fure I
“ met Mr. William's eyes full upon me; I felt
“ my face glow like fire; for as foon as I
“ looked upon him, he made me a low bow. My
“ fifter courteſed; but for my part, I don't know
“ whether I courteſed or not: I was never ſo con-
“ fuſed in my life, and during the whole time we
“ were at church, I ſcarce ever durſt raife my eyes ;
“ for I was ſure to find Mr. William looking into
“ our pew.”

“ I fuppoſe you was not diſpleafed with him,
“ faid Sophia, for taking ſo much notice of you?”

“ I do not know whether I was or not, replied
“ Dolly; but I know that I was in a ſtrange con-
“ fuſion during all church-time; yet I obſerved
“ that Mr. William did not go out when the reſt
“ of the congregation did, but ſtaid behind, which
“ made my ſifter laugh; for he looked fooliſh
“ enough ſtanding alone. But he ſtaid to have an
“ opportunity of making us another bow; for it
“ is my father's cuſtom, as ſoon as he has diſmiſ-
“ ſed the people, to come into our pew and take
“ us home with him. I never ſhall forget how
“ reſpectfully Mr. William ſaluted my father as he
“ paſſed him. I now made amends for my for-
“ mer neglect of him, and returned the bow he
“ made me with a very low courteſy.

“ Fanny and I talked of him all the way home:
“ I took delight in hearing her praife him'; and al-
“ though I was never uſed to diſguſe my thoughts
“ before, yet I knew not how it was, but I was

aſhamed

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ ashamed to speak so freely of him as she did, and
“ yet I am sure I thought as well of him.”
“ I dare say you did, said Sophia, smiling; but
“ my dear, purfued she in a graver accent, this was
“ a very sudden impression. Suppose this young
“ man whose person captivated you so much, had
“ been wild and diffusive, as many young men are;
“ how would you have excused yourself for that
“ early prejudice in his favour, which you took in
“ so readily at your eyes, without consulting your
“ judgment in the leaf?”

Dolly, fixing her bashful looks on the ground, re-
mained silent for a moment; then fighting, an-
fwered, “I am sure if I had not believed Mr.
“ William good and virtuous, I should never have
“ liked him, tho’ he had been a hundred times
“ handomer than he is; but it was impossible to
“ look on him and think him otherwife; and if
“ you had observed him well, Miffes Darnley, his
“ countenance has so much sweetness and candor
“ in it, as my father once said, that you could not
“ have thought ill of him.”

“ It is not always safe, said Sophia, fighting like-
“ wife, to trust to appearances: men’s actions as
“ well as their looks often deceive us; and you
“ must allow, my dear Dolly, that there is danger
“ in these sudden attachments; but when did you
“ see this pretty youth again?”

“ Not till the next Sunday, replied Dolly;
“ and tho' you should hide me never so much, yet
“ I must tell you that this seemed the longest week
“ I ever knew in my life. I did not doubt but he
“ would be at church again, and I longed im-
“ patiently

THE LADY'S MUSEUM

332

“patiently for Sunday. At last Sunday came; we
“went with my father as usual to church, and
“would you believe it, Mifs Darnley, tho' I wish'd
“so much to see Mr. William, yet now I dreaded
“meeting him, and trembled so when I came into
“church, that I was obliged to take hold of Fanny
“to keep me from falling. She soon discovered
“him, and pulled me in order to make me look
“up: he had placed himself in our way, so that we
“passed close by him. He made us a very low bow,
“and my mother, who had not seen him before,
“smiled, and looked extremely pleased with him;
“for to be sure, Madam, she could not help ad-
“miring him.

“Well, I was very uneasy all the time we were
“in church; for Fanny whispered me that my
“sweet-heart, for so she called Mr. William, mind-
ed nothing but me. This made me blush excef-
“vely, and I was afraid my mother would take
“notice of his staring and my confusion; so that
“(heaven forgive me) I was glad when the fermon
“was ended. He made us his usual compliment
“at our going out, but I did not look up: however,
“I was impatient to be alone with Fanny, that I
“might talk of him, and in the evening we walked
“towards the Park. Just as we had placed ourselves
“under a tree, we saw a fine dreft gentleman, a
“visitor of the Squire’s as we fuppoſed, coming up
“to us: upon which we rose and walked home-
“wards; but the gentleman followed us, and
“coming close to me, stared impudently under my
“hat, and swearing a great oath, faid I was a pretty
“girl, and he would have a kifs. Fanny feeing him
“take

THE LADY'S MUSEUM

“ take me by the arm, screamed aloud; but I, pre-
“ tending not to be frightened, tho' I trembled
“ fadly, civilly begg'd him to let me go. He did
“ not regard what I faid, but was extremely rude;
“ fo that I now began to scream as loud as Fanny,
“ ftruggling all the time to get from him, but in
“ vain, and now who fshould come to my affiftance
“ but Mr. William: I saw him flying acrofs a field,
“ and my heart told me it was he, before he came
“ near enough for me to know him.”

“ As soon as Fanny perceived him, she ran to
“ him and beg'd him to help me; but he did not
“ need intreaty: he flew like a bird to the place
“ where I was, and left Fanny far behind. The rude
“ gentleman bad him be gone, and threatened him
“ severely; for he had taken the hand I had at li-
“ berty, which I gladly gave him, and infifted upon
“ his letting me go: and now, my dear Mifs
“ Darnley, all my fears were for him, for the gentle-
“ man declared if he did not go about his buſineſs.
“ he would run him through the body, and actual-
“ ly drew his ſword; I thought I ſhould have died
“ at that terrible fight; my ſifter run towards
“ home crying like one diftraſted; as for me, tho'
“ the man had let go my hand, and I might have
“ run away, yet I could not bear to leave Mr. Wil-
“ liam to the mercy of that cruel wretch; and
“ I did what at another time I ſhould have bluſhed
“ to have done. I took his hand, and pulled him
“ with all my force away; but he, enraged at being
“ called puppy by the gentleman, who continued
“ ſwearing, that he would do him a miſchief, if he
“ did not leave the place, begged me to make the
“ beſt

134

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

"best of my way home; and turning furiously to
"him who was brandishing his sword about, he
"knocked him down with one stroke of a cudgel
"which he fortunately had in his hand, and snatching
"ing his sword from him, he threw it among the
"bushes."

"Upon my word (said Sophia) your William's
"character riles upon me every moment; this was
"a very gallant action, and I do not wonder at
"your liking him now."

"Ah, Mifs (cried Dolly) if you had seen how he
"looked when he came back to me, if you had
"heard the tender things he said—Well, you
"may imagine I thanked him for the kindneſs he
"had done me, and he proteſted he would with
"pleasure lose his life for my ſake. I think I could
"have liffened to him for ever; but now my father
"appeared in fight. My ſifter had alarmed him
"greatly with her account of what had happened,
"and he was coming haſtily to my aſſistance, fol-
"lowed by my mother and all the family. As ſoon
"as we perceived them coming we mended our
"pace; for we had walked very flowly hitherto :
"then it was that Mr. William, who had not ſpoke
"so plainly before, told me how much he loved
"me, and begg'd I would give him leave to fee me
"fometimes. I replied, that depended upon my
"father, and this was prudent, was it not, my
"dear Mifs Darnley ?"

"Indeed it was, anſwered Sophia, but what said
"your lover ?"

"He ſighed, Madam, resumed Dolly, and ſaid
"he was afraid my father would not think him
"worthy

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“worthy of me : he owned he was no otherwife
“worthy of me than from the great affection he
“bore me, and then---But here I fear you will
“think him too bold and perhaps blame me.”

“I hope not, said Sophia.”

“Why, Madam, continued Dolly, he took my
“hand and kissed it a thousand times; and tho' I
“did all I could to be sure to pull it away, yet he
“would not part with it, till my father was so
“near that he was afraid he would observe him;
“and then he let it go, and begg'd me in a whif-
“per not to hate him. Blefs me, what a strange
“requief that was, Mifs Darnely! how could I hate
“one to whom I had been so greatly obliged! I
“was ready to burst into tears at the very thought,
“and told him I was so far from hating him,
“that—

“Pray go on, my dear (said Sophia) observing
“she hefitated and was silent.”

“I told him, Madam, resumed she, that I would
“always regard him as long as I lived.---I did not
“fay too much, did I?”

“I fuppofe, said Sophia, you gave him to un-
derftand that it was in gratitude for the service
“he had done you.”

“To be sure, said Dolly, I put it in that light.
“Well I am glad you approve of my behaviour,
“Mifs Darnley; so, as I was telling you, my father
“came up to us, and thanked Mr. William for
“having rescued his daughter; he then asked him
“what he had done with the rude fellow? Mr.
“William told him he had given him a lucky
“ftroke with his cudgel, which had made him

“meaſure

336 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ measure his length on the ground; but, said he
“ (and sure that showed excessive good nature) I,
“ hope I have not hurt him much :”

“ My father said he would go and see; and then,
“ shaking Mr. William kindly by the hand, he
“ called him a brave youth, and said he hoped they
“ should be better acquainted---Oh! how glad
“ was I to hear him say so: My mother too was
“ vaftly civil to him; and as for Fanny, I thought
“ she would have hugg'd him, she was so pleased
“ with him for his kindneſs to me. My mother
“ infiſted upon his staying to drink tea with us,
“ and as soon as my father came back, we all went
“ in together.”

“ Pray what became of the poor vanquished
“ knight? said Sophia, smiling.”

“ Oh, I forgot to tell you, resumed Dolly,
“ that my father said he saw him creeping along as
“ if he was forely bruised with his fall, supporting
“ himself with his sword, which it seems he had
“ found. We were all glad it was no worse, and
“ Mr. William having accepted my mother's in-
“ vitation, he said with us till the evening was
“ pretty far advanced; and then my father ac-
“ companied him part of his way home, and at
“ parting, as he told us, deſired to see him often.

“ He was not backward, you may be sure, in
“ complying with his request: he came so often,
“ that my father was furprifed; and besides, my
“ fitter and I scarce ever went out to walk but we
“ met him; so that one would have imagined he
“ lived in the fields about our house. My mother
“ at last suspected the truth, and questioned me
“ about

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ about him, and I told her all that he had ever
“ said to me; and not long afterwards he took an
“ opportunity to open his heart to my father, and
“ asked his permission to make his addreſſes to
“ me. With ſuch modeſtly and good ſenſe he ſpoke,
“ that my father was extremely pleafed with him;
“ but told him that he muſt confult his friends,
“ and know whether they approved of it, and then
“ he would confider of his propoſal. Mr. William,
“ as he afterwards told me, wrote to his aunt firſt;
“ for he was well affured that his father would agree
“ to any thing that ſhe thought for his ad-
“ vantage.”

“ He had a very favourable anſwer from Mrs.
“ Gibbons, for ſhe had changed her mind alſo,
“ with regard to his being an officer, as war was
“ then talked of; and ſhe was afraid of his being
“ ſent abroad. He ſhewed me her letter, and ſhe
“ told him in it, that ſince he was resolved to ſettle
“ in the country, ſhe approved of his marrying;
“ and was glad he had not fixed his affections upon
“ ſome homeſpun farmer’s daughter; but had
“ choſen a gentlewoman, and one who was well
“ brought up. She added, that ſhe intended to
“ come into the country, in a few weeks; and if ſhe
“ found the young lady (so ſhe called me) anſwer-
“ ed his deſcription, ſhe would haſten the mar-
“ riage, and ſettle us handſomely.---Oh! how
“ pleafed was I with this letter, and how did it re-
“ joice Mr. William !”

“ I ſhould never have done, were I to tell you
“ all the tender things he ſaid to me. Mr. Gib-
Nº. 5. Z “ bons,

338 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“bons, at his son's desire, came to my father, and
“begged him to give his consent, which he ob-
“tained; for my father had well considered the af-
“fair before: and nothing was wanting but Mrs.
“Gibbons's arrival to make us all happy. Mr. Wil-
“liam thought every hour an age till she came,
“and preft her continually in his letters to haften
“her journey.”

“Alas! if he had known what was to happen,
“he would not have been so impatient; for soon
“after she came, all our fine hopes were blasted;
“and I have now nothing to expect but misery.”

Poor Dolly was so oppreſſed with grief, when
ſhe came to this part of her ſtory, that ſhe was
unable to proceed, and burſt into tears. The ten-
der Sophia, who was greatly affected with the
anguish ſhe saw her in, employed every soothing
art to comfort her. And Dolly being a little com-
poſed, was going to continue her ſtory, when ſhe
ſaw her ſifter looking about for them; Sophia and
ſhe immediately rose up and joined Fanny, who
rallied them both upon their fondneſs for lonely
places; but perceiving that Dolly had been weep-
ing, ſhe immediately became grave, and accommo-
dated her looks and behaviour to the gentle melan-
choly of her ſifter.

Sophia, from the state of her own mind, was
but too much dispoſed to sympathize with the
love-fick Dolly: these softning converfations were ill
calculated to banish from her remembrance, the
first object of her innocent affections; and who,
with all his faults, ſhe ſtill loved. Dolly's ſtory
awakened

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

awakened a thousand tender ideas, and recalled to
her memory every part of Sir Charles's conduct,
which had any resemblance to that of the faithful
and passionate William.

She dwelt with tender regret upon these pleas-
ing images, and for a while forgot how necessary
it was for her peace, to suppress every thought of
Sir Charles, that tended to lessen her just resentment
against him.

But, good and pious as she was, the passion she
could not wholly subdue she regulated by reason
and by virtue; for, as an eminent Divine says,
"Although it is not in our power to make affliction
no affliction; yet we may take off the edge
"of it, by a steady view of those divine joys prepared
"for us in another state."

It was quite otherwise with Sir Charles: for the
guilty, if unhappy, are doubly so; because they are
deprived of those resources of comfort, which the
virtuous are fure to find, in the consciousness of
having acted well.

Sir Charles, upon finding his settlement sent
back to him, in such a manner, as shewed not only
the most obstinate resolution to reject his offers,
but also a settled contempt for the offerer, became
a prey to the most violent passions: rage, grief, af-
fronted pride, love ill requited, and disappointed
hope, tormented him by turns; nor was jealously
without a place in his heart; the chafte, the innocent,
the reserved Sophia, became suspected by the
man, who in vain attempted to corrupt her; so true
it is, that liberalism gives such a colour to the actions

Z 2

tions

340 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

tions of others, as takes away all distinction between
virtue and vice.

Love, he argued, is either rewarded with a reciprocal affection, or with an inward and secret contempt; therefore he imputed Sophia's rejection of his offers, not to her disapprobation of the intention of them, but to want of affection for his person; and from her youth, and the tender sensibility of her heart, he concluded, that since he had failed in making an impression on it, it was already beftowed on another; one while he resolved to think no more of her, and repay her indifference and disdain, with silence and neglect; the next moment, dreading left he had lost her for ever, he regretted his having alarmed her with too early a discovery of his intentions, and sometimes his passion transfigned him so far, as to make him think seriously of offering her his hand: then starting at his own weaknes, and apprehensive of the consequences, he fought to arm himself against that tendernefs which fuggested so mad a design, by reflecting on her indifference towards him, and accounting for it in such a manner, as fixed the sharpest ftings of jealously in his mind.

Thus various and perplexed were his thoughts
and defigns; and he was incapable of resolving up-
on any thing, except to see her; and so great was
his impatience, that he would have let out for Lon-
don, the moment he received the fatal paper, but
decency would not permit him to leave his uncle,
who was in a dying condition, and wifhed only to
expire in his arms.

The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

341

The poor man, however, lingered a week longer,
during which Sir Charles passed some of the moat
melancholly hours he had ever known; at length,
his uncle's death left him at liberty to return to
London, which he did immediately, and alighted
at Mrs. Darnley's house. Upon hearing she was
at home, he did not send in his name, but walked
up stairs with a beating heart; he found Mrs.
Darnley, and Harriot together, but not seeing the
person, whom he only wished to see, he cast a me-
lancholy look round the room, and answering, in a
confused, and dejected manner, the mother's ex-
cessive politeness, and the cold civility of the
daughter, he threw himself into a chair, with a deep
sigh, and was silent.

So evident a discomphure pleased Mrs. Darn-
ley as much as it mortified Harriot. As for Sir
Charles, pride and resentment hindered him at
first from enquiring for Sophia; but his anxiety
and impatience to hear of her, soon prevailed over
all other considerations; and tho' he asked for her
with an affected carelessness, yet his eyes, and the
tone of his voice betrayed him.

Mrs. Darnley told him, that she was gone into
the country: " Very much against my inclination,
" said she: but Mr. Herbert, who you know, Sir,
" has great power over her, more I think, than I
" have, would have it so."

Sir Charles turning as pale as death, replied, in
great emotion, " What ! gone into the country ?
" where is she gone, to whom, why did she go ?
" Against your inclination, did you say, Madam,

Z 3

“ what

342

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

" what could possibly induce her to this ? You fur,
" prife me excefliely."

Harriot, who did not chuse to be preſent at the
explanation of this affair, now roſe up, and went
out of the room, smiling farcaſtically, as ſhe paſſed
by Sir Charles, and bridling with all the triumph
of conscious beauty. He, who was in a bad humour,
beheld her airs not only with indifference but con-
tempt, which he ſuffered to appear pretty plain in
his countenance ; for he thought it but juſt to mor-
tify her for her ill-ſusage of her ſifter, without
confidering that he himſelf was far more guilty, in
that reſpect, towards the amiable Sophia, and
equally deſerved to be hated by her.

When Harriot was gone, Mrs. Darnley inſtant-
ly renewed the converſation concerning Sophia;
and finding that the young baronet lıſtened to her,
with eager attention, ſhe gave him a full account
of all that had happened, during his abſence: ſhe
repreſented Sophia, as having followed implicitly
the directions of Mr. Herbert, whom ſhe called a
busy, meddling, officious, old man ; and as the be-
haviour of her daughter, at her going away, gave
ſufficient room to believe, that her heart ſuffered
greatly by the effort ſhe made, ſhe dwelt upon
every circumſtance that tended to ſhow the con-
cern ſhe was under; and did not ſcruple to exag-
gerate, where ſhe thought it would be pleafing.

Sir Charles, tho' he inwardly rejoiced at what
he heard, yet diſſembled ſo well, that no ſigns of
it appeared in his countenance. He now ſeemed to
lilten with much indifference, and coldly ſaid, he

was

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

was forry Mifs Sophia would not permit him to
make her eafy.

The tranquillity he affected alarmed Mrs.
Darnley: she who was ever ready to judge by ap-
pearances, concluded that all was over, and that
the baronet was irrecoverably loft; but had her
judgment been more acute, she would have per-
ceived, that he was still deeply interested in every
thing that related to Sophia. The queftions he
asked were not such as curiosity fuggesf, but the
tender anxiety of doubting love: Mrs. Darnley
informed him of all he wifh'd to hear; Sophia had
indeed fled from him, but not without reluctance
and grief: she was at prefent removed from his
fight, but she was removed to filence and solitude;
and she carried with her a fond impression, which
solitude would not fail to encreafe.

Thus satisfied, he put an end to his viſit, with
all imaginable compoſure, leaving Mrs. Darnley
in doubt, whether ſhe ſhould ſee him again, and
more enraged than ever with Mr. Herbert, whoſe
fatal counſels had overthrown all her hopes.

[ To be continued. ]

Z 4

To

[ 344 ]

BEING born a Florentine, though by my
marriage and long residence here, I am now
become English; I cannot without some jealously
observe, that in your useful and entertaining Mu-
seum, you have yet admitted no foreigners but
those of France, to make their appearance; there-
fore I take the liberty to recommend to your no-
tice, the inclosed translation from the Italian, of a
piece of history, perhaps as extraordinary and ex-
emplary as can be found in those of any nation
whatever; and whilft it prefents to your readers
the power and fate of beauty, at the fame time
gives them some insight into the characters and
manners of the Italians, in that century in which
it happened. I am, Madam,

Your constant Reader,

And Humble Servant,

OFFARIA CELLINI.

THE

[ 345 ]

THE
HISTORY
OF
BIANCA CAPELLO.

ABOUT the middle of the fixteenth century,
amongst many Florentine merchants, who
refided in the celebrated city of Venice, was, a
company of bankers, called the Salviati; whose
business being great, they were obliged to keep
many young men in their service, for writing, ne-
gociating, and other offices. The principal of these
was one Pietro Buonaventuri, a citizen of Florence,
young, handsome, and genteel, whom they em-
ployed as caffier.

Over againſt this bank lived a noble Venetian,
the name of whose family was Capello; he had
amongſt other children a daughter called Bianca,
extremely beautiful, and of ſo winning and grace-
ful behaviour as enhanced the luftre of her charms.
This lady, the before-mentioned Buonaventuri,
became desperately enamoured with; the violence of
his paſſion, by the frequent opportunities their near
neighbourhood gave them of ſeeing each other, in
time found means to diſcover itſelf to his miſtreſs;
who believing him the maſter, or at leaſt the part-
ner of that great bank, began to regard with ſome
attention the attractive graces of his perſon and
manner, till this new reciprocal love augmenting
every

346 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

every day, became sanctified at length by a private
marriage, followed by many secret meetings, with
the knowledge only of an old matron, governefs
to the lady, who had been both confidant and me-
diatrix throughout the whole affair.

Thus for some time did the lovers continue their
intercourse; the bride going every night to her
husband's apartment, which being on the ground
floor, she could easily pass from her father's house
and return to it unobserved, being but four paces
distant from that of the Salviati. Her method was,
when she came out, to leave the door unlocked;
so that returning early, she was received by her
governefs, before the rest of the family was stirring;
but one unlucky morning, the baker coming sooner
than usual, to tell the servants it was time to make
the bread, and being answered, they were about
it, he perceived the lock of the door was open, and
thinking it was proper to fasten it, he did so, be-
fore he went away, as the young lady found to
her great surprize and grief, when having taken
leave of her husband, (who accompanied her
to the door of his master's house) she returned
home; whereupon not knowing from whence
this accident could happen, trembling like
a leaf, and half dead with fear, she went back to
her lover, who endeavoured to comfort her as well
as he could, and went himself into the street, ma-
king signs, whistling, and calling to the old con-
fidant; yet all his endeavours were to no purpose,
and unable to make himself heard, without a
thorough discovery, he came back to his wife;
when now the day was so far advanced, that it left
no hopes of concealment for these unfortunate lovers,

who

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

who were fure to die by the rage of her relations,
if once their affair was known: As the laft remedy
they refolved on flight; he taking what little mo-
ney and cloaths the shortneſs of time would permit
him to get together, and ſhe having only a thin
taffata robe over her ſhift, (it being the height of
fummer) they haſtily embarked on board a veſſel,
and in the moſt ſecret manner that was poffible,
purſued their journey till they arrived at Florence,
where they came to the houſe of Pietro's father,
which ſtood in the place of St. Mark, not far
from the church of the Annunciation. The elder
Buonaventuri, though a citizen, was in ſo low a
degree of fortune, that theſe two being added to
his family, he could no otherwife maintain them,
than by turning off his only ſervant, in whoſe place
the poor young lady was obliged to do all thoſe
offices, that in her former ſtate, many had been
kept to do for her: and the old man being in-
formed by his ſon, that ſhe was his wife, and his
own being grown in years, and very peeviſh, he
entruſted her with the management of the houſe-
hold likewife: all which ſhe performed for many
months, with great patience and alacrity.

The flight of the two lovers was no sooner dif-
covered at Venice, than the father and relations
of Bianca, furious with indignation, and great in
power, cauſed an edict to be publifhed, by which,
whoever ſhould kill them in any country, was en-
titled to a large ſum of money. This cruel order
coming to the ears of the fugitive pair, gave them
great apprehenſions; and the young lady never
ſuffered herself to be seen, but ſtayed always at
home

348 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

home, employing herself in the affairs of her
family.

Whilst they remained in this miserable situation,
it happened one day, that the grand Duke Fran-
cisco, son of Cosmo the first, was passing in his
coach under the window. Bianca having a curiosity
to see him, lifted up the lattice, in order to have a
better view; and he chancing at the same time to
turn his face that way, their eyes met; which was
no sooner perceived by her, than she immediately
let down the lattice and retired; but the grand
duke, unsatisfied with so momentary a view, kept
his head still out of the coach, turn'd, though in
vain, towards the window.

This hafty, and unthought-of encounter, created
in the mind of Francisco a restlessness to know
who she was, and every particular concerning her,
which once known, produced so tender a pity in
his heart, that it made him more than an equal
sharer in all her misfortunes; and increased so much
his curiosity again to see her, that he either went
every day to a house of his, in that quarter of the
town, called the Casino, or to hear mafs, either at the
Annunciation, or St. Mark's, in hopes to procure
another fight of her; but all this only served to
make him more eager, for a nearer and longer
view; and, in order to attain his wish, he made it
known to a Spanish gentleman, named Mandragone,
who in his infancy had been placed about him by
his father, and who, ever attentive to the desires of
his master, readily undertook the enterprize; and
that it might succeed the better, engaged his wife
to form an intimacy with the old woman, mother

of

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

of Bianca's husband, instructing her in what manner
she should bring it about.

In observance to his orders, she placed herself
next to her at church, where, according to the
custom too much in use, they soon began to enter
into discourse, in which the Spanish lady having
artfully brought it about, to ask if her son Pietro
was married?

She answered, Yes, madam, but very unfortunately; and then proceeded to give her the whole history of what had happened in Venice. When she had finished, Signora Mandragona very compassionately, and with great eagerness, desired she would come one day to her house, and bring her daughter-in-law with her, whom, she said, she was extremely desirous to be acquainted with; and should esteem it a happiness to do every thing in her power to serve her.

To this the old woman replied, that it would be
very difficult to perLLUade her daughter, who never
went abroad, to come with her; because, added
she, our circumftances do not permit us to buy her
new cloaths; and at present she has only those
which she brought with her; so that she, who still
retains a noble foul in all her poverty, will never
bear to be expos'd. This, replied the Spaniard, I
can easily find a remedy for: I will send her a suit
of mine, and in those she need not fear being known.

I do not know, says the good old mother, whether
she will consent without the leave of her husband:
however, I will do all I can to obey you;
but I fear I shall not be able to bring it about; for
she chooses retirement, and is desirous to avoid the
fight

350

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

fight of every one; so that though my son has often
spoke to her to go with me to hear maſs at St.
Mark's, ſhe never could be prevailed on to do it;
infomuch, that from the bleſſed hour in which ſhe
entered our houſe, to this time, ſhe has never
ſtirred out of it.

Try all your power, I deſire, ſaid the Spaniſh
lady, to bring her with you; and I will ſend my
coach to fetch you both. Tell her too, that my
friendſhip will be not diſagreeable to her; but, on
the contrary, perhaps may do her ſome ſervice.
The good old woman concluded the converſation
with reiterated promiſes, to uſe her utmoſt endea-
vours to make her daughter comply with the ob-
liging requeſt, and so they parted.

As soon as ſhe was got home, ſhe began to diſ-
course with her daughter in-law, telling her exaſtly
what had paffed between the Spaniard and herſelf;
to which ſhe added, this lady, my child, is wife to
the chief favourite of the great duke; therefore
her friendſhip is no indifferent thing: the interceſ-
fion of her hufband being the moſt likely means to
gain you the protection or ſafe-conduct that you
here ſo earneſtly deſired, and by which you may
live in Florence free from the perſecution of your
relations, who, as you ſay, endeavour by all the
methods they can uſe, to get you into their hands.

When the poor young creature heard her talk of
the ſafe-conduct, though ſhe had no inclination to
go abroad any more to know, than to be known
by others; yet, moved with the hopes of ſecu-
rity, ſhe yielded, provided her hufband gave his
conſent, who that very night ſhe confulted upon
it;

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

it; and he, that no less than herself stood in need of protection, judging that by this lady it would be easily obtained, (being sensible how great her husband's interest was with the prince,) told her, she should go; which leave having informed her mother-in-law of, she immediately sent word to Signora Mandragona, that when it was convenient for her to send her coach for them, they would be ready to attend her. Accordingly it soon came, into which the two ladies entering, shut themselves up close, and in that manner arrived at the palace of the Spanish lady, where they were received with many carelesse and great joy; and being conducted into a most magnificent and beautiful apartment, they discoursed together on several subjects; and upon that of the safe conduct, the Spaniard did not fail to offer all the power and interest she was mostrefs of with her husband to obtain it.

In the midst of their conversation, entered (as by chance,) the master of the house, who, after having bowed to the ladies, seemed not to know who they were; and turning to his wife, asked her? These, said she, are persons who are in want of your interest with your master; and then pretending to inform him, in few words, of the Venetian lady's story, which he knew better than herself, she concluded with an earnest desire, that he would intercede in her behalf to the grand duke, who from another room heard and saw every thing that passed.

All the time the Spanish lady was speaking to her husband, Bianca remained silent, with her eyes cast down, and full of tears, that pleaded more in her

[ 353 ]

ESSAY

ON THE

Original Inhabitants of GREAT BRITAIN,
CONTINUED.

IN the reign of Commodus, or as Beda places it, in the reign of Aurelius, we are told of Lucius, the first British monarch who became a Christian. The legendary stories of him are not in the least worthy of insertion.

In the reign of Septimus Severus, the twenty-first emperor of Rome, we learn some particulars of the old Britons that are too remarkable to be passed over. Their persons and their manners are thus described by Dion Cassius.

"The two most considerable colonies of Britons are the Caledonians, and the Mæatæ. Under these denominations may be included the rest of the inhabitants. The Mæatæ live near the wall that divides the island into two parts; the Caledonians live beyond the wall. Both these people inhabit the wildest mountains, where no water is to be found: they also inhabit desert plains, and grounds that are full of marshes: they have neither walls, towns, nor cultivated lands: wild fruits, and the game that they take in hunting are their choicest food: they

No. 5

Aa

never

354 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

never take fish, although they have great quantities*. They take their lives in tents, naked, and even without shoes: they live in a promiscuous manner with their wives: the children are brought up in common: their government is democratical and popular: they take great delight in plunder: they fight in chariots: their horSES are small, but very swift: they are a people remarkable for velocity in running, and they stand firmly on their legs: their defensive arms are a buckler and a short spear; at the lower extremity of the spear is hung an apple made of brafs, with the noise of which they terrify their enemies in battle: they also make use of daggers: they can endure hunger, cold, and every kind of hardship: they can remain for several days together in marshes without eating, and only with their heads above the water. In their woods they feed upon roots, and the bark of trees: they have a certain kind of food,† which they prepare upon all occasions, and of which, if they take a quantity no bigger than the size of a bean, they no longer feel the effects of hunger, nor of thirst. Such is the island of Britain."

This must not be looked upon either as a perfect or a general representation. It is a mixture of truth, fable, and improbabilities; and it is confined entirely to the Caledonians, and to the northern part of Britain. The southern colonies were nearer the sun, and by that situation, were possibly of a softer nature and of a less robust constitution. That savages were inclined to rapine and every fort

* In their fens. † A food unknown to their pofterity.

of

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

of robbery, is by no means a matter of aftonifh-
ment, and scarce a subject of censure; but that
the Mæatæ and the Caledonii, so late as in the
reign of Severus, were totally ignorant of agri-
culture, and every rudiment of tillage, must appear
a shameful instance of lazinefs, if their unfettled
situation, and the want of property and security in
their posseffions, did not plead their excuse. Cain,
the first savage upon record, was a tiller of the
ground. Noah, as soon as he found himself in
possession of the earth, began to be a husbandman :
but Cain had put to death his only adversary, and
Noah was perfectly secure from foreign invasions.
The diftrefsed Britons could not promise themselves
an hour's peace, from enemies and invaders.

Severus had two sons, Baffianus, surnamed Ca-
racalla, and Geta. The luxurious pleasures of Rome
had enervated these young men, and had rendered
them, especially the eldest, unworthy of such a fa-
ther. To exercise his army, and to withdraw his
sons from a scene of vice and inactivity, the em-
peror in the fifteenth year of his reign undertook
a journey into Britain. He was at that time old,
infirm, and much afflicted with the gout; but the
strength of his spirit was far superior to the strength
of his body: wherever his army marched, he ap-
peared at the head of it, on horseback, or in his
chariot, or sometimes, when his distemper was par-
ticularly violent, in a litter. His progress into
Caledonia was at the utmost hazard, and even
with a considerable destruction of his troops. The
country was mountainous, woody, and full of
marshes; so that his soldiers underwent excessive

A a 2

fatigue

356 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

fatigue, without taking a fortrefs, and excefſive
danger, without feeing an enemy. They had foreſts
to cut down, mountains to level, moraſſes to dry
up, and bridges to build. Dio ſays, that in this
progreſs, the Romans loft fifty thouſand men. No
diſtreſſes could alarm, no difficulties could deter
Severus: he continued his enterprize, and at laſt
became ſuccesſul. The terms of an alliance were
agreed upon and ratified; but were ſoon afterwards
broken by the Scots: a breach of faith which Seve-
rus determined to reſent, not only with rigour, but
with inhumanity. He delivered his orders to his
army, in theſe lines from Homer :

Not one of all the race, nor ſex, nor age,
Shall ſave a Trojan from our boundleſs rage;
Ilion ſhall perifh whole, and bury all
Her babes, her infants at the breaſt ſhall fall*.

But he lived not to fee his orders executed: his
diftemper was his moſt powerful enemy: it con-
quered him when he was almoſt ſixty-feven years
of age, and when he had reigned about eighteen
years, of which the three laſt he paſſed in Britain.
He died at York, and his funeral obſequies were
ſolemnized with a pomp and magnificence ſuitable
to the character of Severus, and the greatneſs of
the people of Rome.

The virtues of this emperor were great; how-
ever they were not without their alloy. As a pri-
vate man, he was covetous; as a commander, he
was too ſuſceptible of revenge. Wherever he con-

* Pope's Iliad, b. 6. v. 71.

quered

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

quered he ruined: a cruel dispoſition, which the
people of Bizantium moſt unhappily experienced,
and from which the Scots had a very narrow eſcape.
On the other hand, his ſpirit was dauntleſs, and
ſuperior not only to danger but fatigue: he defied
laſſitude, and was never wearied by the moſt mi-
nute enquiry into every article of his government:
to his perſonal friends he was extremely grateful:
to his perſonal enemies he was contemptuouſly dif-
dainful: he was moderate in his expences as an en-
peror, but magnificent in the public buildings of
every kind*: he heard cauſes not only with exac-
neſs, but with patience: he entered the courts of
juſtice by break of day, and he ſtaid there till noon:
his abilities were excellent, and they were improved
by learning: he had more than the tenderneſs of a
father: he forgave Caracalla's repeated attempts
upon his life: he was careful in the education of
both his ſons; and at his death, he jointly be-
queathed to them his empire.

Caracalla and his brother Geta, each inferior in
every reſpect to their father, haſtened from a coun-
try of barbarians to that theatre of delicacy, the
court of Rome. They concluded a peace with
the Caledonians, and left our inland early in the
year of Chriſt 211.

From henceforward it will be extremely proper
to draw a veil over the particular characters of the

* While he was in England he is said to have built a wall
across the kingdom; but the antiquaries differ so widely in
their accounts of the situation, materials, and length of it,
and some of them are so doubtful of its existence, that it
feels rather to have been the wall of Adrian repaired, than
any new wall raised by Severus.

A a 3

Roman

358 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Roman emperors: not even to name their names, unlefs where the affairs of Britain require it. The perpetual chafmi in our hiftory happen to be so great, and the anecdotes are so few and trifling, so uncertain or indecent, that till the reign of the joint emperors Diocletianus, and Maximianus, (firnamed Hercu-leus) in the year of Chrift † 286, a ſpace of ſeventy five years, the deepeſt ignorance is ſcarce to be lamented.

The Romans had been many years immerſed in the greateſt confuſion: their kingdom was di-vided againſt itſelf: Britain was ſtill under their ſubjeſtion, and was harraſſed and torn to pieces by factions and diviſions, which took riſe within the iſland itſelf. I mean particularly the invin-cible hatred that the Piſts and Caledonians, who were now in a manner become one people, bore to the more ſouthern parts of Britain.

Diocleſian, a man of low birth, had paſſed through many confiderable offices before he was raſed to the empire: he had acquired a high re-putation as a ſoldier, and had acquitted himſelf with great political ſagacity in the civil parts of government: his perſonal accompliſhments ſeem-ed to ſuitable to the imperial dignity, that in a time of leſs univerſal warfare and confuſion, he might ſingly have ſuſtained the weight of government, with honour to himſelf, and with advantage to the commonwealth. In the preſent juncture, the hands

† Diocleſian was declared emperor, September 17th. A. D. 284; but the hiftorians generally agree that he did not ap-point Maximian as his partner in the empire till the year 286.

of

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

of Briareus were scarce too many to hold the reins
of the Roman empire; consequently Dioclesian
shewed much prudence in gaining the affiftance of
a partner in the throne. Maximian did not pof-
fes all the accomplishments of Dioclesian; but he
had courage and activity, which were of greater
prefent use to the public, than virtues more deli-
cately illuftrious, or more morally refined.

Anarchy and confusion prevailed throughout
the world. The times were such as are defcribed
before the flood, when God saw that the wickedneſs
of man was great in the earth; and that every imagi-
nation of the thoughts of his heart, was only evil con-
tinually. The continent was filled with rebels:
the sea was covered by pyrates. In the laft clafs
were the Franks and the Saxons, two nations of
Germany, who gave continual annoyance to the
coaſts of Normandy, Picardy, and Bretagne. To
prevent the depredations of these corſairs, and to
awe and subdue the maritime robbers of every
kind, Carausius was appointed commander of the
Roman fleet, and was generally stationed at Bou-
logne: a ſtation near enough the coaſt of England, to
render him well acquainted with the ports, the ſhores,
and the inhabitants of the iſland: he was a man of
mean birth *, but of high ambition: he found
himſelf at the head of a great fleet; and he was
sufficiently wifc to know the weight, power, and
dignity of his office: he resolved therefore to ex-
tend the limits of his authority in ſuch a manner,

* He was a Menapian. The Menapii were a people of the
Lower Germany.

A a 4

as

360 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

as to be the indisputable sovereign of the seas; and
from thence, to stretch his influence over the
land so effectually, as to be a nominal and acknowledged
emperor of Rome: his methods in pursuance of his design were bold and profligate:
he began by a breach of trust: he seized great
numbers of prizes, and he took great numbers of
prisoners; but he accounted to himself alone, not
to his imperial masters, for the profits of his captors: he permitted Franks, Saxons, or any other
pyrates to practice incriminately all kinds of violence upon the Gallic coasts; but in their return
homewards, he intercepted their vessels, and applied to his own use the riches and plunder which
those vessels contained. Such proceedings justly
alarmed the reigning emperors; and orders were
given that Carausius should be immediately seized
and executed: but he had foreseen his danger,
and had already secured to himself such an interest
among the officers of the fleet, that the whole navy
was unanimously determined to obey him.

A mariner only can command mariners: the element is formed for the people, or rather, the people, like the fish, are formed for the element. Had Carausius been a land-officer, all his schemes must have proved abortive: but from those particulars of his life which have reached our times, he appears to have been as successful as he was wicked, as bold as he was powerful, and as fit to command as he was ready to execute.

It is to him we owe the first dawnings of our
naval power: a power which has since appeared
in all its meridian glory. From his conduct we

were

THE LADY's MUSEUM. 361

were apprized of our natural ſtrength as an iſland :
a ſtrength that cannot fail us, if properly exerted,
to the end of the world.

Carausius had moſt judiciously fixed his eye upon Britain, as a ſure place of refuge and ſecurity, whenever the Romans were in purſuit of him; ſo that as ſoon as he heard that he had been publicly proclaimed as a traitor, he made himſelf maſter of Boulogne, and immediately failed from thence with his whole ſleet to the Britiſh coaſt.

The previous ſteps which had been taken by Carausius, and the private correſpondence which he had of late carried on with the Britons, rendered his arrival in the iſland not only eaſy but joyful. The people came out beyond their ſhores to meet him, and as ſoon as he was landed, the Roman legion†, and the auxiliary troops that had been quartered within the kingdom, acknowledged and faluted him emperor. Thus from a pyrate, he be-came at once a Cæsar, and fulfilled the aphorism, wittily made by one of the Grecian corſairs to Alex-ander the Great, *That a man with a ſingle ſhip was a pyrate, but with a ſleet was a great prince.*

A triumverate of emperors was an unusual phe-nomenon: but the ſtate of the continent was ſo very tottering and precarious, that neither Diocleſian nor Maximian were in any degree ſtrong enough to diſmantle the atchievements of Carausius.

† One Roman legion only, at this time, was quartered in Britain. No more probably could be ſpared from the continent, which had been of late years in ſo rebellious, diſtreſſul, and unfettled a ſtate.

Some

362 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

Some faint preparations of ref resistance were attempted
by Maximian ; but necessity compelled the Romans
soon to withdraw all hostilities, and to enter into
articles of peace: by which inglorious treaty, this
proclaimed pyrate was declared Pius; this mari-
time robber was acknowledged Felix ; and this
avowed ur surper, was fir named Augustus : as ap-
pears from the medal in Camden's Britannia, thus
inscribed: IMP. C. CARAUSIUS. PF. AUG.
on the reverse, PAX AUG. with the letters S C.
Senatus consulto, By order of the Senate.

Carausius was not only a nominal emperor of
Rome, but he personally established himself a real
monarch of Briton: he reigned and resided in the
island between fix and seven years; and during that
time, our ancestors were entirely freed from their
obedience to the Roman empire, and were only
subject to the laws and government of their own
fovereign. Curiosity would lead us to enquire
what were the political institutes of a pyrate.
Some civil policy must have been regularly main-
tained; but no certain records of it are to be dif-
covered. In general, we know, that his fleet was
mighty, and that his marines and failors were
drawn from all nations, and out of all professions.
In this light as in every other, his abilities must
appear extraordinary, since he could keep in sub-
jection and obedience a set of people extracted
from different kingdoms, and mingled together
from various and diff ant parts of the world. But
before he had compleated the seventh year of his
fovereign jurisdiction, he was murdered by Alectus,
one of the chief officers in his army.

Alectus

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Alectus feized the government; but his desire of grasping the sovereignty was far greater than his power of holding it. He maintained his usurpation only three years: nor would he have maintained it so long, if the Romans had not taken that time to consider in what manner they might recover Britain. Flavius Constantius Chlorus, who was already emperor elect, and entitled Cæsar, undertook the expedition. As soon as he landed, he burnt his ships; a sure preface that he was refuelledly determined upon conquest, or upon death. The Britons were pleased with the nobleness of this action; and as they were much oppressed by the dominion of their present tyrant, they reforted in great numbers to the standard of Constantine, and voluntarily enlisted themselves into his service. A battle ensued, in which Alectus was slain. His army was mostly composed of Franks, and such of them who escaped from the furious slaughter of the Romans, retired to London, desperately determined to pillage that city, and immediately to fail away with their plunder. But the design was frustrated by a reinforcement of Romans, who landed at London at this important crisis, and who immediately put almost every one of the Franks to the sword. Thus was the chief city of our island delivered from rapine and destruction, and the island itself again subjected to the empire of Rome. Constantine made an expedition into the northern parts of Britain, to establish under the Roman government, those colonies which were most mutinous, and untractable. He said about four years in the kingdom, and then returned to Italy, leaving behind

2
hind

364 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

hind him the strongest impreffions, and the truest
veneration of his many remarkable virtues, partic-
cularly of his clemency and his justice.

As soon as Conftantine arrived at Rome, Dio-
clesian and Maximian wearied with the weight
of government, and defirous to retire from the
pomp and fatigue of buſineſs, reſigned the empire
to him and to Galerius Armentarius. The king-
doms which fell to the ſhare of Conſtantine, were
Italy, Spain, Africa, and Gaul; to which latter was
always annexed the iſland of Britain. Conſtantine
preferred it to any part of the continent; and the
Britons, who had already experienced many inſtances
of his goodneſs and protection, were much rejoiced
at his return. He made York his ſeat of reſi-
dence, and died there in the year 306, in the 56th
year of his age.

He was ſucceeded by his eldeſt ſon, Conſtan-
tinus, ſirnamed the Great : a paſſage in Eumenius,
allows room to imagine, that this ſecond Conſtan-
tine was born in Britain. The words of the pane-
gyriſt are theſe ; O fortunata et nunc omnibus beatior
terris Britannia, quæ Conſtantinum Cæſarem prima
vidiſti ! “ O fortunate Britain ! now happier than
“ all other parts of the earth, ſince in your iſland
“ Conſtantine Cæſar was firſt beheld.” His birth
was undoubtedly an honour to the country in which
he was born : but the actions of his life are the
points moſt important to hiftory. Bifhop Stilling-
fleet tells us from Lactantius, that one of Conſtan-
tine's firſt acts of government, was to ſecure full
liberty to the Chriſtians. From this reign we may

date

THE LADY'S MUSEUM. 365

date the open and triumphant appearance of Chri-
tianity in Britain. All accounts till this time seem
dark and intricate; the ſtories of king Lucius and
his twenty-eight churches are fabulous and im-
probable. The Britons had their Druids, the Ro-
mans had their Flamines, and each had their Ponti-
fex Maximus. Thus idolatry in two different forms
of worship was prevalent throughout the whole
island, till Conſtantine the Great declared himſelf
a Chriſtian. He had been educated in that faith
by his mother Helena, who is recorded as a faint of
the firſt magnitude, in the eccleſiastic chronicles
of the pontifical church of Rome.

The example of a sovereign will always have a
powerful influence upon his people. Conſtantine,
by his public declaration of the chriſtian faith, gave
a mortal blow to idolatry; and the Flamines and
the Druids melted away before the croſs of Chriſt,
like waxen images before the fun.

Alterations of another kind were inſtituted in
the ſtate. They are at preſent of little conſe-
quence: changes of names, as from Proprætor to
Vicarius, or different diviſions of the kingdom;
ſuch as making the two provinces three, or as
ſome ſay, four, and all particulars ſo differently
told, that they muſt rather weary than entertain a
reader. It is in a great meaſure to ſave the many
fatiguing accounts, where neither exaſtneſs nor in-
ftruction can be found, that theſe papers have been
put together; which, if not ſufficiently minute, and
ſatisfactory to the perſons into whose hands they
may fall, will be always amply dilated and ſupplied

by

366 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

by a search into the many folio volumes that load
all the historical shelves in England.

Many scenes of Conftantine's greatest actions
were performed in France and Germany. He en-
tirely subdued the Franks, who were become
powerful and numerous: they inhabited that part
of Gaul, which from them was called Franconia,
or Francia Orientalis. He crofted the Rhine, and
laid waste the country of the Bructeri; and he re-
moved the feat of empire from Rome to Constan-
tinople. He died May the 22d, in the year of
Chrift 337.

From the acceffion of Diocleſian in the year 284,
or rather from the seizure of the island by Caraulius
in the year 287, to the death of Conſtantine in 337,
the Britons had made very great improvements in
their mercantile trade, and in various arts and
ſciences*. This laſt half century was of more be-
nefit to the island, than all the years that had paſ-
fed before. As the ſtrength and power of antient
Rome diminished, the ſtrength and power of Britain
encreafed; and the inhabitants were no longer
looked upon or treated as ſlaves or favages, but as
allies and confederates of the Roman ſtate.

By the light that may be collected, or the rea-
fonable inferences that may be deduced from this
particular part of our history, our ancestors seem to
have acquiefed, if not chearfully, at least prudent-
ly, in their present situation. No disturbances, no
injurations arose throughout the whole reign of
Conſtantine the Great. It may be asked from

* Vide Paneg. Maximian.

what

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

what motives this obedience, and submission to the
Roman power, or rather let us say, to the will of
Providence, could arise? Certainly from the
flourishing condition of the Christian religion, the
doctrines of which it is to be hoped were then
preached and practised in some degree of purity.

The greatest dangers, or the most sudden mole-
ftations, to which the Britons were at this time li-
able, proceeded solely from their neighbours the
Caledonians, who in the beginning of Conftantine's
government, or just before the death of his father
Conftantine the first, had made several rapacious in-
cursions beyond their borders. They were soon
conquered by Conftantine the second, and driven
back to their inmost bounds; and they remained
tolerably quiet during that Emperor's reign.

[ To be continued. ]

TREA-

[ 368 ]

# TREATISE
ON THE
EDUCATION of DAUGHTERS.

## CHAP. II.

The Inconveniences of the common Methods of
Education.

It is owing to ignorance that a girl is weary of herself, and knows not how to relieve that languor by innocent employments: when she is arrived to a certain age without ever having applied to things solid, she is void of taste or esteem for them; every thing serious is sad; every thing that requires a continued attention is fatigue; the biafs of pleasure, so strong in the days of youth; the example of other persons of the same age, plunged in amusement, tends to create an abhorrence of a life of regularity and diligence. In these early days, she wants the experience and authority necessary for superintending any thing in her father's house; she is not so much as sensible of what importance it is to apply herself that way, unless her mother has happened to take care to point out to her the several particulars. Is she of rank? She is exempt from working with her hands: she will not work therefore, except for some little time in the

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

the day, becaufe she was heard say, she knows not
why, that it is reputable for ladies to do some-
thing: but this is often mere pretence; she cannot
accuftom herſelf to application.

In this ſituation what will ſhe do ? The company
of a mother who watches all her motions, and is chid-
ing her inſeſtantly, who thinks ſhe brings her up well
in excufing nothing, who looks grave upon her, who
forces her to endure her humours, who ſeems ever
burdened with domeſtic cares, is what both con-
ftrains and diſpirits her; ſhe has about her a fet of
flattering females, who, with a view to inſinuate
themſelves, by a bafe and pernicious complacency,
fall in with all her fancies, and entertain her with
every thing that is likely to give diſtaste to what is
right. Piety appears a tireſome buſineſs, a rule
incompatible with every idea of pleafure. What
then will ſhe be doing ? Nothing ſerviceable; and
this very inapplication grows at length into an in-
curable habit. In the mean time, behold a void
which there is no hopes of filling up with things
ſolid; therefore the frivolous muſt take place. In
this idle ſtate, a young lady abandons herſelf to la-
zineſs, the languor of the foul, and inexhauſtible
ſource of irkſomeneſs.

She uſes herſelf to more ſleep than is conſiſtent
with true health: this ſerves but to weaken her, to
make her tender and more liable to bodily indiſpoſi-
tion; whereas moderate ſleep, with the uſe of regular
exerciſe, produces livelineſs, vigour, and ſtrength,
in which undoubtedly a perfect ſtate of body con-
ſiſts, not to mention the advantages reſulting to the
mind.

Nº 5

B b

From

370 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

From this union of softneſs and idleneſs, with
ignorance, proceeds a pernicious ſenſibility for di-
versions and public ſhews; nay, it excites an in-
discreet and inſatiable curioſity. People verſed
and occupied in things of a ſerious nature, have
in general but a moderate degree of curioſity;
the knowledge they poſſeſs gives them a con-
tempt for many things they do not know; they
perceive the inutility, the ridicuſſneſs of the
moſt part of thoſe things which little minds that
know nothing, and have nothing to do, are eager
to be acquainted with: on the contrary, the ima-
gination of girls, ill inſtructed and unattentive, is
perpetually wandering for want of ſolid nouriſh-
ment; their curioſity turns with eagerneſs upon
objects of an empty and dangerous nature. Thoſe
of genius ſet themſelves up for extraordinary wo-
men, and read all the books that can feed their
vanity; they are paſſionately fond of romances,
of plays, of ſtories, of chimerical adventures,
wherewith much profane love is intermixed; they
give a viſionary turn to their understanding, by
using it to the magnificent language of the heroes
of romance; they even ſpoil themſelves for the
world, becauſe all theſe fine airy ſentiments, theſe
generous paſſions, theſe adventures which the au-
thor of the romance has invented merely to pleaſe,
have not the leaſt relation to the real motives of
action in the world, or to thoſe that decide its af-
fairs, nor yet to the false views diſcoverable in
every undertaking.

A poor girl, full of the tender and the marvel-
lous which have ſo charmed her in her ſtudies, is
aſto-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

371

aftonished not to find the world afford any real personages resembling her heroes. She fain would live like the imaginary princesseſes, ever charming, ever adored, ever above all wants: alas! what mortification for her to descend from a ſtate of heroism to the little cares of domestic life.

Some give their curiſofity greater ſcope, and take upon them to decide on religious ſubjects, though beyond their reach: ſome with an understanding not large enough to entertain theſe ideas, have others proportionate to their capacity; they are violently inquiſitive concerning what is ſaid, what is done, about a ſong, a piece of news, an intrigue; eager to receive letters, to read theſe received by others; they will be told all, they will tell all; they are vain, and vanity makes them talkative; they are light, and lightneſs obſtructs reflection, which would often teach them to be filent.

## CHAP. III.

What are the firſt Grounds of Education.

Towards remedying all theſe evils, it is of great advantage to be able to begin the education of girls from their earlieſt infancy. That age which is often given up to the direction of women indiſcrete, and ſometimes depraved, is nevertheless the age which receives the deepeſt impreſſions, and which conſequently affects their whole life.

Infants, before they can ſpeak plain, may be prepared for inſtruction: ſome may think this is ſaying too much; let us only confider what a child does before it can ſpeak: it learns a language,

B b 2

which

372 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

which it will shortly ſpeak with more accuracy
than ſcholars can the dead languages they have so
painfully ſtudied in riper years. Now what is
learning a language? is it not to register in the
memory a great number of words? It is moreover,
faith Auguſtin, to observe the ſenſe of each of
thoſe words: an infant, faith he, amidſt its noifes
and play, takes notice of what object each word
is the ſign, and this he does sometimes by obſerving
the natural motion of bodies that come into con-
tact, or that ſhew the objects ſpoken of; ſome-
times by being ſtruck with the frequent repeti-
tion of the ſame words, denoting the ſame objects:
true it is, the temperament of the brain of infants
affords a wonderful facility for receiving all theſe
images; but how great attention of mind muſt
there be to diſtinguish and connect them each with
its object?

Consider next how much infants, even at that
age, take to thole who humour them, and diſlike
thole who oppoſe them: how well they know when
to cry and when to be ſtill, in order to gain their
ends: how cunning, how jealous they can be even
at this time. I have ſeen, faith Auguſtin, a child full
of jealouſy; though not yet able to ſpeak, he eyed
with furious looks, and a pale countenance, the
child that ſucked along with him. Hence then
one may conclude that they have more ſenſe at that
time than is generally ſuppoſed; so that it is poſ-
ſible by means of words, affiſted by proper tones
and geſtures, to give them an inclination rather to
be with the decent and virtuous part of thole they
fee, than with other indiscrete perſons whom they
may

THE LADY's MUSEUM.

may be in danger of loving. Thus by the different
air of your face and tone of voice, may you repre-
sent to them with horror the behaviour of persons,
they have beheld in a transport of anger, or any
other disorder; and, on the other hand, assuming the
softest tones and accents, and mildest looks, act over
with admiration whatever passages they have seen,
wherein wisdom and modesty were observable.

I do not mean to let forth these little matters for
important, but yet such diffrent preparations are
beginnings not to be neglected; and this early
prevention sensibly forms them to receive their
education. If there remains any doubt of the in-
fluence of first prejudices upon men, let us but
observe how lively, how affecting, the remembrance
of things we loved in our childhood, remains in our
advanced age: if, instead of inspiring children with
vain terrors of apparitions and spirits, which by too
violently shocking the brain, yet tender, serves only
to weaken it; if instead of suffering them to be
directed by every fancy of their nurses, to objects
of their love or aversion, we were to make it our
care to give them a pleasant idea of what is good,
and a frightful one of whatever is evil, this pre-
vention would in its consequence greatly facilitate
their profits in all the virtues. Quite contrary to
this, they are taught to be frightned at a prieſt dref-
fed in black; the word Death is never mentioned
unless to ſcare them; they are told how dead people
walk at night in horrible shapes; the conſquence
of all which is to make the mind weak and fearful,
and prejudice it againſt better things.

B b 3

In

374 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

In the first years of infancy, no greater service
can be done the child than to manage its health;
to endeavour to furnish it with a mild blood, by
a well chosen diet, and simple regimen; so to reg-
gulate its meals that it may eat nearly at the same
hours, and as often as is requisite; but not between
meals, for that is loading the stomach again before
digestion is perfected; not to eat seasoned things,
that will provoke him to eat more than he has oc-
casion for, and give a disrelish for the sort of victuals
most wholsome for him; in fine, not to supply him
with variety, for a variety of food in succession
keeps up the appetite after genuine hunger is satisfied.

Another thing of great moment is to wait till
the organs are grown strong, without preffing in-
truction upon him; to avoid all occasions of rowz-
ing the passions; to use him, with gentle efforts, to be-
ing deprived of such things as he has shewn himself
too eager for, this will prevent the confidence of
obtaining his desires.---If their dispositions be in
any degree good, it is possible by these means to
render them docile, patient, steady, gay, and tran-
quil: on the contrary, where this early age is ne-
glected, they become violent and restlefs all their
lives, their blood heats, habits are formed in the
young and tender body; the foul as yet unbiaffed
takes a bent to evil, a sort of second original-fil
springs up, which is to prove the source of a thou-
sand disorders, as they grow bigger. From the
moment they arrive at the age wherein reason has
unfolded itself, nothing should be said but what has
a tendency

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

a tendency to give them a love for virtue, and a contempt of all diffimulation: therefore ought we to use no feints, in order to appease and bring them to do as we would have them; for that would be to teach them a cunning they will never forget: let us as much as possible lead them on by reason.

We will take a nearer view of the state of infants, in order to see more particularly what is proper for them: the substance of their brain is very soft, it hardens day by day; as for their mind it knows nothing: this softness of brain is the reason why every thing makes strong impressions, as is the surprise of novelty why they are so apt to admire and be inquisitive. It is also true, that the brain by its humidity and softness, together with much heat, is given to be in continual motion; whence proceeds that restlessness in children, whereby they can no more confine their minds to one object than their bodies to one place: on the other hand, infants, while yet incapable of thought or action of themselves, remark all that passes, and they speak but little, unless we use them to talk much, which we ought carefully to avoid doing; for the pleasure taken in pretty children helps frequently to spoil them. We accustom them to venture to speak whatever comes into their thoughts, and of things of which hitherto they have no distinct comprehension: from this they acquire a lasting habit of judging with precipitation, and of talking on subjects of which they have no clear ideas; this forms a mind of a very bad stamp---this pleasure has yet another effect, a pernicious one, children perceiving that people look on them with complacency, take notice of all

they

B b 4

376 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

they do, and are pleafed to hear all they fay, get a
cuftom of believing they ſhall ever be the concern
of the world. During this age of applaufe, and
unacquainted with contradiction, chimerical hopes
are conceived, which open a way for infinite
mistakes through life. I have known children, who,
whenever perſons were talking in private, always
concluded they were the ſubject, becauſe they had
obſerved it to be often ſo; they imagined every
thing in themſelves to be extraordinary and ad-
mirable: therefore they ought to be taken care of,
without being ſuffered to know that we think much
about them; ſhew them that it is out of kindneſs,
and through their great need of affiſtance, not
from any admiration of their qualities, that we are
ſo attentive to their conduct.

Be content to form them ſtep by ſtep, as occa-
sions naturally offer. Even when it is poſsible to
bring the understanding of a child very forward
without ſurcharging it, we ſhould be cautious of
doing this; for the danger of vanity and preſump-
tion is always greater than the fruits of theſe forc'd
educations, that make ſo much noife.

We ſhould be content I ſay, to follow and affiſt
nature; we ſhould not urge them to talk. As they
are very ignorant, they have a multitude of quef-
tions to aſk, and do ask a great many; ſuffice it to
anſwer them with preciſion, adding ſometimes cer-
tain little comparisons, to make our explanations
the eafier comprehended. If they paſs judgment
upon any thing without thoroughly understanding
it, embarraſs them by ſome new queſtion, which
may ſhew them their fault, without roughly con-
founding

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

founding them; and at the fame time, one should
let them see, not by vague commendations, but by
fome effectual mark of esfeem, that we much more
approve of their doubting and enquiring into what
they are ignorant of, than of their very beſt deci-
fions.

This is the true way of forming their minds,
after a polite manner, with a genuine modeſty, and
a thorough contempt of thoſe disputations so com-
mon among young people a little enlightened.

As soon as their reaſon has apparently made
fome progreſs, it will be proper to make uſe of
that very experience to arm them againſt preſump-
tion. You ſee, may one ſay, you are more a maſter
of reaſon at this time than a year ago, in another
year you will perceive things which at preſent you
cannot; if a year ago, you had undertaken to
judge of things, which now you are well acquainted
with, but then was not, you muſt have judged
weakly. You would have been much to blame in
pretending to know what was then out of your
reach; and thus it is with regard to things you are
ſtill to learn: hereafter you will diſcover how im-
perfect your preſent judgment is; in the mean
time rely upon the judgment of thoſe who judge
now as yourſelf will do, when arrived at their age
and experience.

The natural curioſity of children is the forerun-
ner of inſtruction; fail not to profit by it, for exam-
ple, in the country they ſee a windmill, and want to
know what it is, we ought to deſcribe to them by
what method the food of man is prepared. They
obſerve

378 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

observe mowers at work; we should explain what they are doing, how corn is sown, and how it encroaches upon the ground. In the city they behold shops, where many arts are carried on, and various forts of merchandise fold: we ought never to think their questions troublesome; they are overtures which nature makes for the readier admission of inftruction: shew you take a pleasure in them, and by this means you will infenfibly teach them, how every thing is prepared that is useful for man, and upon which commerce is founded.

By degrees, and without making a study of it, they will come to understand the best manner of executing things of use, and the true value of each, which is the sure ground of oeconomy. This knowledge, which no one ought to despise, because it is very fit people should not be deceived in their expenses, is more especially necessary for young women.

[To be continued.]

THE

[ 379 ]

“ I Would die, said I, rather than displease you;  
“ and I will die if you have no pity on me. What  
“ can I do? It is easier for me to take away my  
“ own life, than to forget Adelaida. Shall I be  
“ perjured, and violate the vows I have made to  
“ her? vows which have engaged her early af-  
“ fections. Shall I abandon her when I know  
“ I have gained her heart? Oh! my dear mother,  
“ do not wish your son to become the bafeft of  
“ men.”

I then related to her all that had paffed between
us. “ She loves you, said I, and you, I am fure,
“ will not be able to help loving her. She has
“ your fweetneſs, your candour, your genero-
“ fity. How is it poffible for me to ceaſe loving
“ her ?”

“ But what do you propoſe by indulging this
“ paſſion, faſd my mother? Your father is reſolved
“ to have you marry another, and commands you
“ to retire into the country till every thing is ſettled.

“ It

380 THE LADY'S MUSEUM,

"It is absolutely necessary that you should appear "willing to obey him, unless you mean to be my "death. He expects you will depart to-morrow "under the conduct of a person in whom he has "great confidence. Absence will do more for you "than you can yet imagine; but be that as it will, "do not irritate Monsieur de Comminge still more "by your refusal: ask for time, and I will do "every thing in my power to accomplish your "wishes. Your father's anger cannot last always: "he will relent, and you may be yet happy; but "you have been greatly to blame in burning the "writings. He is perfuaded that you sacrificed "them to madame de Luffan, who ordered her "daughter to require that proof of your love."

"Oh heavens! cried I, is it possible that my "father can be so unjuft? Both madame de Luffan and Adelaida are ignorant of what I have "done; and I am very fure, had they suspected "my intention, they would have uſed all their "power over me to have prevented it."

My mother and I afterwards took measures to convey letters to each other, and, encouraged by her indulgence, I durſt preſume to intreat ſhe would transmit to me thofe of Adelaida, who was ſoon to be at Bourdeaux. My mother had the goodneſs to promife ſhe would gratify me; but at the fame time; inſiſted, that if I found Adelaida had altered her ſentiments, I ſhould ſubmit to what my father required of me. We ſpent great part of the night in this converſation; and as ſoon as day appeared my conductor came to inform me that it was time to get on horseback.

I

The

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

The estate where I was to pass the time of my banishment lay in the mountains, some leagues from Bagniers; so that we took the same road I had so lately passed through. The second day of our journey we came early in the evening to the village where we were to lie. While fupper was preparing I went to take a walk along the great road, and at a distance saw a coach which drove very fast, and when it came within a few paces of me overturned. My heart, by its throbbing, acquainted me with the part I had in this accident. I eagerly flew towards the coach; two men on horseback, who attended it, alighted and joined me, to assist the persons who were within. It will be easily understood that those persons were Adelaida and her mother; in effect it was they. Adelaida was very much hurt in one of her feet; but the joy at seeing me seemed to leave her no sense of her pain.

What pleasure did I take that happy moment! After so many affections, and at the distance of so many years, it is still present to my remembrance. Adelaida not being able to walk, I took her in my arms to carry her to the inn; her charming arms were thrown round my neck, and one of her hands touched my mouth. I was in a transport that scarce suffered me to breathe.

Adelaida observed it, her delicacy was alarmed, she made a motion to dissingage herself from my arms. Alas! how little did she know the excess of my love: I was too much transported with my present happiness to think there was any beyond it.

"Set me down, said she to me, in a low and "trembling voice; I believe I am able to walk."

“What,

382 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

"What, replied I, are you so cruel as to envy "me" the only good fortune I shall perhaps ever "enjoy." I preft her hand tenderly to my bosom as I pronounced these words. Adelaida was filent, and a false step which I made on purpose, obliged her to resume her first attitude.

The inn was at so little distance, that I was soon forced to part with my beauteous burden. I carried her into a room, and laid her on a bed; while their attendants did the fame with her mother, who was much more hurt than Adelaida. Every one being busy about madame de Luffan, I had time to acquaint Adelaida with part of what had passed between my father and me. I prepprest the article of the burnt writings. I knew not whether I most wistned that she should be ignorant of it, or know it from another person; it was in some degree imposing upon her the necessity of loving me, and I was defirous of owing all to her own heart. I durst not describe my father to her such as he really was. Adelaida was strictly virtuous; and I was fenfible, that to reſign herself to the inclinations she felt for me, it was neceſsary that she should hope we might be one day united. I seemed to have great dependance upon my mother's tendernes for me, and the favourable diſpoſition she was in towards us. I intreated Adelaida to fee her.

"Speak to my mother, said she; she knows your "fentiments, I have acknowledged mine to her. "I found that her authority was neceſsary to give "me ſtrength to combat them if I ſhould be obliged to it, or to justify me for reſigning myſelf "up to them without ſcruple. She will use her "ut-

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

“ utmoft endeavours to prevail upon my father to
“ propofe an accommodation, and to engage the
“ interpoſition of our common relations for that
“ purpofe.”

The tranquillity with which Adelaida reſted upon
theſe hopes made me feel my misfortune more
ſenſibly. “ What if our fathers ſhould be inex-
“ orable, ſaid I to her, preſſing her hand, will not
“ you have compaſſion on a miſerable wretch who
“ adores you ?”

“ I will do all that I can, anſwered ſhe, to regu-
“ late my inclinations by my duty; but I feel
“ that I ſhall be wretched, if that duty is againſt
“ you.”

The perſons who had been employed about
Madame de Luffan then approaching her daughter,
our diſcoursſe was interrupted. I went to the bed-
fide of the mother; ſhe received me kindly, and af-
fured me ſhe would uſe every method in her power
to reconcile our families. I then went out of their
chamber to leave them at liberty to take ſome re-
poſe. My conductor, who waited for me in my own
apartment, had made no enquiry about theſe new
gueſts; ſo that I had an opportunity of being a few
moments with Adelaida before I proceeded on my
journey.

I entered her chamber in a condition eaſier to be
imagined than deſcribed. I dreaded that this was
the laſt time I ſhould ſee her. I approached the
mother firſt, my grief pleaded for me, and ſhe was
ſo moved with it, that ſhe expreſſed herſelf in ſtill
kinder terms than ſhe had done the evening before.
Adelaida was at another end of the room; I went

384 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

to her trembling: “I leave you my dear Adelaida,”
faid I. Two or three times I repeated the same
words: my tears, which I could not refrain, spoke
the rest. She wept likewise.

“I shew you my whole heart, said she—I do
“not wish to disguise it from you; you defer me my
tenderels. I know not what will be our fate;
“but I am resolved that my parents shall dispoſe
“of mine.”

“And why, replied I, should we subject our-
“selves to the tyranny of our parents? let us
“leave them to hate each other, if they will do it;
“and let us fly to some distant corner of the world,
“and be happy in our mutual tenderneſs, which
“we may make a ſuperior duty to what we owe
“them.”

“Never let me hear such a proposal from you
“again, said she: give me not cause to repent of
“the ſentiments I have entertained for you; my
“love may make me unhappy, but it shall never
“make me criminal. Adieu, added she, giving
“me her hand, it is by our constancy and virtue
“that we ought to endeavour to triumph over our
“misfortunes, but whatever happens, let us re-
“ SOLVE to do nothing which may leſſen our eſteem
“ for each other.”

While she spoke, I kissed the dear hand she had given me: I bathed it with my tears. “I must “always love you, replied I; death, if I cannot be “yours, will free me from my misery.”

My heart was so oppreſs'd with anguish, that I
could with difficulty utter these few words. I haſtily
quitted the room, and mounting my horſe, arrived

at

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

at the place where we were to dine, without having
one moment ceased to weep. I gave free course
to my tears. I found a kind of sweetneſs in thus
indulging my grief. When the heart is truly af-
fected, it takes pleasure in every thing that dif-
covers to itself its own sensibility.

The remainder of our journey paffed as the be-
ginning: I had ſcarce uttered a word during the
whole time. On the third day we arrived at a
castle built near the Pyrenees; nothing was to be
seen about it but pines and cyprus trees, steep
rocks, and horrid precipices; and nothing heard
but the noise of torrents rufing with violence
down those frightful declivities.

This savage dwelling pleafed me, becaufe it
foothed my melancholy. I paffed whole days in
the woods; and when I returned, unloaded my
fad heart in letters to my beloved Adelaida. This
was my only employment, and my only pleafure.
I will give them to her one day, thought I: ſhe
ſhall fee by them how I have paffed the time in
her absence. I sometimes received letters from
my mother, in one of which ſhe gave me hopes.
Alas! that was the only happy moment I ever en-
joyed: ſhe informed me that all our relations
were labouring to reconcile our families, and that
there was room to believe they would ſucceed.

After this I received no more letters for fix
weeks; how tedious were those days of doubt and
anxiety! every morning I went into the road
through which the meſſengers paffed, and never re-
turned till it was late in the evening: lingering

Nº. 5.

Cc

till

386 THE LADY's MUSEUM.

till hope and expectation had nothing left to feed
upon, and always returned more wretched than
when I first set out. At length I saw a man at a
distance, riding towards the castle. I did not doubt
but he was a messenger to me, and, instead of that
eager impatience I had felt a moment before, I was
now seized with apprehension and dread. I durst
not advance to meet him; something which I could
not account for, refrained me. Uncertainty, which
had hitherto appeared so tormenting, seemed now
a good which I feared to lose.

My heart did not deceive me. This man brought me letters from my mother, in which she informed me, that my father would listen to no proposals for an accommodation; and, to complete my miseries, had resolved upon a marriage between me and a daughter of the house of Foix: that the nuptials were to be celebrated in the castle where I then was; and that my father would in a few days come himself to prepare me for what he desired of me.

You will easily judge I did not balance a moment about the resolution I was to take. I waited for my father's arrival with tranquility enough. My grief was soothed with the reflection, that I was able to make another sacrifice to Adelaida: I was convinced she loved me: I loved her too much to doubt it. True love is always full of confidence.

My mother, who had so many reasons for wishing to see me disengaged from Adelaida, had never in any of her letters given me the least cause to

suf-

[ 388 ]

PHILOSOPHY

FOR THE

LADIES

CONTINUED.

Of the methods NATURE has furnished various ANIMALS withal, to elude the attacks of, and prevent purSUITS from, their enemies.

IN our last Number we gave some account of a remarkable artifice, made use of by a very small animal, to entrap and get into his power such creatures as are his proper prey; and which, by being provided either with wings, or with a superior share of agility, would be otherwife out of the reach of his attacks. Were we to proceed in relating the various contrivances peculiar to each several species of animals for the discovering, ensnaring, and overcoming their respective enemies, or catching their deftined prey, we should greatly encroach on the limits of the plan we have determined to proceed on, of not dwelling too long on any one subject. Various, therefore as they are, and entertaining and curious as the knowledge of them may be, we shall refer

an

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

an account of them to fome future periods, in
which they may, perhaps, find place with a greater
degree of variety; and proceed in this to relate the
opposite gift of nature, who, provident and careful of
all her works, has, together with every convenience
for the procuring of fustenance, and for the attack-
ing of thofe enemies which fand in fome rank of
equality, alfo furnished almoft every creature with
the means of either eluding the fearch, or eſcaping
from the ſeizure of ſuch as are more powerful.

Some of theſe methods are general, others par-
ticular. The more general means by which diffé-
rent animals elude the ſearch of their powerful and
deftraſtive enemies, are the ſeveral cells, caverns,
neſts, and covertures, which nature has taught
the different genera of them to find out, and to
repair to for ſhelter, as well againſt their deftroyers,
as againſt the ſeveral inclemencies and dangers of
the weather. The general affiftances which they
meet with for eſcaping from imminent danger,
when attacked, is ſome peculiar degree of agility,
either in running, leaping, flying, or ſwimming;
for which ſeveral purpofes certain classes of animals
are found to be furnished with a particular appara-
tus and mechaniſm, ſuch as moſt justly demand
our admiration, and bear the ſtrongeſt testimony to
Almighty wifdom. Yet theſe are ſtill properties
in common to numbers, even of different ſpecies,
bearing only ſome trivial differences peculiar to in-
dividuals; but there are other methods, in which
the Creator has thought proper to diſtinguifh his
care for the prefervation of his creatures, and
which are ſome of them limited to particular ge-

Cc 3

nera

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

39º nera of animals, and others absolutely confined to separate individuals.

Of this fort, there is none that we find more frequent than the being endowed with a property of affuming, either in colour or form, the general appearance of surrounding objects, in such manner, that being blended and confused with them, a diffrent eye is rendered incapable of discerning them: and this property we ever find more or less beftowed on thofe creatures whose natural manner of living obliges them to range abroad for their food in places devoid of ſhelter; and therefore become the more continually expos'd to the attacks of their adverſaries.

Thus do we find in Greenland, Nova Zembla, and the colder countries within the polar circles, that in the winter ſeaſon, when the whole region is covered with indifſoluble ſnow, the hares, rabbits, foxes, &c. who, by that means are deprived of their accustomed ſhelter, and would therefore become an eafy prey to the larger animals, change the dark colours, which their ſummer coats are ſtained with, into a ſnowy whitenefs; whereby they not only are undifcoverable at any confiderable diſtance, even though lying on the open ground, but alſo, if by chance they ſhould be ſeen, their natural ſwiftneſs cannot but perfectly avail them in their flight, over large plains, in which, from the reſemblance of their own colour with that of the ſurrounding country, their figure is very quickly as much loft therein, as a drop of water falling into the vaſt expanſe of ocean.

Animals

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Animals of the serpent, frog, and lizard kind,
whose residence is ever amongst grafs, corn, and
herbage, have for the most part the basis of their
cloathing of a green colour. When they are spotted
or striped, the generality of those marks are either
formed with yellow, which is the next most uni-
versal colour in nature, especially amongst the field
flowers, or else with various shades of brown, ap-
proaching to the representation of earth, and of the
roots and barks of trees. By this means they ea-
fily elude the fight and search of the birds and other
animals, which would otherwise destroy them in
great quantities, unarmed as they are, and inca-
pable of defending themselves when attacked.

The so much admired cameleon, whose food
being small insects, which are borne about in the
fummer air, not the air itself, as it was formerly
imagined, renders it necessary that he should ever
remain in places unsheltered and open to every
view, is endued with a power of affuming the co-
lour of whatever he happens to lie upon. But
here let us not lead our fair readers into the vulgar
error of imagining he is able to change the colour
from one to another, any more than in appearance.
In short, what little tinct he really has, which is,
indeed very little, is like others of the lizard clafs,
greenish, and consequently not much different from
that of the objects amongst which he has the
most frequent necessity to take up his station; but
besides this, the great transparency of his body,
through which the colour of whatever he happens
to lie upon, is easily discernible, is the greatest secu-
rity he has; and by making it almost impossible

C c 4

for

392

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

for him to be distinguished, has given rife to the
opinion, that he affumes a colour, which, in reali-
ty, he only suffers to be seen.

Caterpillars, also, which are the natural food of
many kinds of birds, are for the most part found
to partake of the colours of those plants which
they feed on and inhabit. Nay, there is one partic-
ular class of them, well known to the fly-fancier
by the name of Loopers, which fixing themselves to
the barks of certain branches of trees, and stretching
out their bodies therefrom perfectly ftrait, and
in a certain oblique direction, affume so exactly in
their colour, form, and rugged contexture, the ap-
pearance of the natural sprigs of those branches, that
a very discerning eye may look attentively on a
branch where hundreds of them are affixed, and
if uninformed of their property, may chance not to
discover one.

There is an insect, however, very frequent in the
West Indies, which is still more extraordinarily
sheltered under a feigned appearance. He is of
the locust, or rather of the mantis kind. His body
is long, slender, and knobbed; of a brown colour,
and therefore bears a very near resemblance to a
broken sprig of wood: but besides this, he has
two very large and long wings, which are so formed
both as to shape, colour, and markings, that
they exactly represent two dried leaves in the fall
of autumn, embrowned by the heat of the sun,
withered up, and curled about the edges; and, from
an entire deficiency of all juices and moisture,
every minute effect of the fibrous texture,
rendered distinctly visible. It is called the Walk-
ing

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ing Leaf, a name that indeed most truly expresses
its figure, which is so amazingly like an outcast
of the season, that excepting when he moves, he
can never attract the notice of any eye whatsoever.

This kind of protection from a resemblance to
external objects, extends even so far as into the
earth and water. Worms, grubs, and other in-
fects, whose habitation is under ground, yet are
liable to be frequently disturbed by the plough
or spade, and brought to the view of their de-
ftroyers, are for the most part found to be of a
colour nearly resembling the clods of earth amongst
which they lie less discernible than they would be,
were they of a red, blue, green, or any other bright
colour, which would form a more apparent contrast
to the surrounding glebe. Many of the animals
whose first state of life is in the waters, and who
would therefore be a ready prey to the fishes who
inhabit them, are taught by the universal miftefs
nature a means of forming to themselves a crufta-
ceous covering, which so nearly resembles the small
sprigs, pieces of dead bark, straws, &c. that are
every where to be found at the bottom of brooks
and rivers, that they lie secure and unnoticed by
those animals, who would be tempted by a figure
more resembling life, to seize on and devour them.
Nay, even the fish themselves frequently partake so
much of the colours of the moses, herbage, &c.
amongst which they harbour, that they are not
easily to be distinguished, excepting when in motion.

Such are the means wherewith kind Providence
has furnished different creatures to elude almost the
strictest search, and thereby to avoid the being at-
tacked.

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

394

tacked. Yet, as for the wistful purposes, the whole animal kingdom seems in one perpetual state of warfare within itself, it was also necessary, that certain means of escape should be provided to have recourse to, in case the methods of prevention should prove ineffectual. Of these, every animal is more or less instructed, and endued with powers for relieving itself, even in the height of the most imminent danger, and when almost in the jaws of its most rapacious enemy.

Of these, some are by very swift and sudden flight; some by the help of a peculiar springing of limbs, which in high, and unexpected leaps, conveys them instantly out of the reach, or at least out of the ken of their adversary. Others, as the mole, the ferret, the grillotalpa, &c. by an expert rapidity in digging into the bowels of the earth, and at the same time closing up the passage, thro' which they have forced their way: whilst others, lastly, find means to escape, by taking refuge in an element, whereinto their adversaries dare not, or cannot follow them, which is the case with the whole race of amphibious animals.

Some kinds of creatures there are, especially amongst the insect tribe, who, having neither strength to resist, nor agility to fly, deceive their enemies by assuming the appearance of death. To this stratagem, many of the smaller species of the beetle, or scarabeus class, have immediate resource on the least approach of danger, as any one may easily be convinced, by touching them with a stick, or taking them into the hand; when they instantly turn on their backs, contract all their limbs together,

I

I

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

gether, and lie for a time under the appearance of
a little inanimate grain, which they do not shake off,
till by the stillness of every thing round them, they
are perfuaded they can run no risk by reaffusing the
signs of life; which they do with as much caution and gradual deliberation, as they put on the
image of death with preference of mind and ready
precipitation.

Many other devices of somewhat a similar nature, are made use of by various creatures, for the
purposes above-mentioned; the minutiæ of which it
would be too tedious here to enter into. But I
think we cannot with any propriety close this article, without taking notice of two animals, which
possess qualities so eminently singular for repelling
and stopping the career of their pursuers, that it is
rather more wonderful that they should ever be
taken at all, than that the knowledge of them and
their properties should be so little known, as in
general they are.

The first of these that I shall mention, is the
calamary, or ink fish. This animal, whose singularity of figure has induced me to make it the subject of the copper-plate annexed to this number, is
found in great abundance on the coast of the
warmer parts of Europe. He is of the polypus class,
and frequently lies on the surface of the water,
with the arms which are represented in the figure
spread out for the catching of such fish as may happen to come in his way, and which by the means
of numberless fuckers of a most curious mechanism
that are arranged along the arms, are not only
secured from escaping him, if once they come within
his

396 THE LADY'S MUSEUM

his touch, but are also impoisoned by it in such a manner, that if they by dint of struggling, should force themselves from his hold, they would die almost immediately. Thus arm'd, therefore, and provided for attack, he frequently seizes a fish much larger than himself, whose juices he fates himself with, abandoning the remainder to the waves.

There are, however, some kinds of fish to whom he in his turn is a proper prey; whose bulk is too much for him to attack, and their activity too great to fly from. For his security then, from these powerful enemies, he is furnished with two advantageous properties; the first is a very clear and extensible fight, from a pair of large globular and projecting eyes, which are so placed as to command all objects that can advance from any part round him; the second, and that which is more immediately peculiar to himself, is a certain black fluid, which on the approach of an enemy he ejects from his body in large quantities, and which muddying the water for a very considerable space round him, not only conceals the spot of his immediate residence, but also deters his antagonist from pursuing him. So careful has nature been for the preservation of every one of her creatures however inconsiderable or apparently uselesst!

The other instance of providential care, where-
with I shall at present close this department of phi-
losophy, is that of the torpedo, or cramp-fish, a
 creature which tho' a very flow swimmer, and in its
 construction divested of all means of preventing or
avoiding any attack made on it; yet is furnished

with

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

with a method of rendering such attacks fruitless,
and, as it were by a stroke of magic, reducing its
enemy to a state of inactivity and impotence. In
short, the skin of this animal is formed of a texture
so elastic and powerful, that on the very slight touch
of it, even with the end of a stick, it numbs
and destroys the sense of feeling in the same manner
as a fit of the cramp would do, enervating the whole
frame, and producing such an effect as would, was
the fact not so well known, appear incredible.
What then must be the consequence to any animal
who should eagerly seize on it, with a design of
making it his prey? What, but a total deprivation
of all sense, for at least time sufficient to enable
the destined victim to make his escape, and save
himself from the threatening jaws of destruction!

These are some few, among numberless instances,
of the infinite wisdom of the great first cause in his
works of creation, who has thus contrived it so,
that although it is necessary the different species
of animals should mutually prey on one another,
and that each should find himself surrounded with
a host of professed as well as infidious enemies,
yet that every kind should be supplied, and that
with a variety of invention which nothing leaves
than infinite wisdom could form, with the methods
for preventing its race from utter extirpation,
and preserving the just and proper balance
which the use and the convenience of man, and
often some hidden cause beyond the comprehension
of his understanding, require to be maintained
amongst the greater and the smaller wheels of this
great machine the universe.

THE

[ 39º ]

THE
LADY'S GEOGRAPHY

CONTINUED.

AFTER having given some account of the habits, arms, and festivals of these people, it will be proper to give a flight description of those diversions wherewith the feasts we have mentioned conftantly conclude, which are those of music, singing, and dancing.

Of their instruments of music, the principal one is the Gongue : this is of very great use throughout the Indies, but is most highly esteemed by the Amboynians, who ever preserve it amongst their most valuable effects. Of these there are two forts, the one large, the other small. Of the latter fort, they arrange fix or seven in a row on a bench, which are struck alternately with two sticks covered over with linen cloth. This instrument, which they call Tataboang, serves by way of accompaniment to the former, but is played much quicker, though ever in cadence therewith.

The Fifa keeps the same time as the larger Gongue, and is properly a drum. It is distinguished from the Rabana by being of a cylindrical figure, whereas

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

whereas the other is flat. Besides which, the man-
ner of touching them is different. There is also a
third fort, which resembles a little barrel, flung by
a string round the neck, and is covered with parch-
ment at both ends, whereas the others are only
covered at top. The figure of these instruments
together, with the manner of using them may be
seen in a plate, annexed to Numb. III. of this
work.

Their dances keep time to the found of these in-\STRUMENTS, with an exactness, and a degree of agi-
lity, that is really surprising. Their prodigious
leaps, their fupple turns, and the extraordinary
windings and changes of pofture, which they bring
their joints to execute, furpafs all defcription or
idea. As soon as the feaſt is over, a man appears
dreſt in the manner of the *Alfourians* or moun-
taineers, covered with the branches and leaves of
trees, and armed with a large buckler, a fabre or
javelin, and a helmet, furmounted with a large
plume of feathers of the bird of paradise. In
this ſingular equipage, he cries out, for some mo-
ments in the air, ſometimes alone, and ſometimes
accompanied by a ſecond of the fame clafs, caſt-
ing around him looks of the utmoſt fury and per-
turbation, and making the moſt terrible efforts, as
if he would beat down the whole world under his
blows.

This exercife, which they exprefs by the word
*Tſjakali*, is conſtantly ſucceeded by their common
dances, which each ſex ſeverally executes by two or
four together, with great gracefulness and addrefs :
Some holding a naked poignard in each hand, and
fometimes

400 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

f sometimes one or two filk handkerchiefs, which
they wave around them; others have a fine scarf
or safh of the fame, or of chintz, which is faftened
to the left shoulder, and one end of which trails
on the ground. The men wear besides a turban
on the head; and the women decorate their hair
with flowers. Their dancers are always young un-
married people: when they begin, and when they
retire, they salute the company by joining their
hands over their heads: but on these occasions it
is the custom always to make them a present of
certain habits of silk, or some rich stuff, in which
some one of the spectators runs to enwrap their
bodies, whilst they are yet dancing, by the way
of intreating them as it were not to fatigue
themselves any longer; and this is one of the ex-
pences by which the Amboynians ruin them-
felves.

The men as well as the women usually accom-
pany these dances with their voices. These songs,
which serve as a kind of annals, for want of better
historians, contain, among other things, the ancient
events of their country; the praises of their heroes;
and the glorious deeds of their ancestors. And
this vocal and instrumental music is not only made
use of in their great feasts, and on other particular
occasions, but also on board their boats and barges,
in which the rowers keep the most perfect time
to the instruments and voices.

404 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

fhe pleafed to affume, her countenance expreſſed it
as naturally as if ſhe really felt it.

My huſband grew every day more fond of the
company of one who always prefented a new face
to him, ſometimes airy and ſparkling, ſometimes
tender and melancholy, now haughty and impe-
rious, then ſoftened into a gentle languifhment.
While I was ignorant of her infidious deſign, I di-
verted myſelf with her ſantaſtic behaviour; but
Alcander now diſcovered ſuch an extreme attach-
ment to her, that I began to grow uneaſy. I was
afraid of examining into the nature of my own
doubts and fears; the ſuspicion that my Alcander
was grown indifferent to me, and loved another,
was ſomething ſo new, ſo ſtrange, ſo ſhocking to
my heart, that I rejected it with horror; yet ſpite
of myſelf I ſought the melancholy conviction, and
found it in his looks, his words, and every circum-
ftance of his behaviour.

My firſt thought was to expoſtulate with him
upon his change; but my pride oppoſed this, and
reafon told me that upbraidings would not recal
his affeſtions: I reſolved, therefore to ſeem ig-
norant of my misfortune, and flattering myſelf that
when my dangerous gueſt had left me, the im-
preſſion ſhe had made would be removed, I pa-
tiently waited for her departure.

When ſhe told me of her intention to return to
London in a day or two, my heart bounded with
joy, and I ſcorned to diſſemble ſo far as to deſire
her to ſtay any longer; but what became of me!
when turning my eyes upon Alcander, I ſaw him
pale as death, and unable to utter a word, ſo great-
ly

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

If was he affected with the thoughts of parting.
At length recovering himself, he solicited her to
stay some time longer, with such beseeing looks,
and such earneftneſs of intreaty, that finding myſelf
unable to ſupport this ſcene, I roſe up, and com-
plaining of a ſudden indiſpofition, retired to my
chamber.

My husband followed me immediately; and I,
eager to admit every thought that could give me
comfort, confidered this as an effect of his tender-
neſs and concern for me; but I was ſoon unde-
ceived: he came only to reprove me for my in-
civility to my gueſt, in not preſſing her to ſtay
longer; and he had the cruelty to deſire I would
uſe my undeavours to keep her with us.

I anſWERED nothing, but burſt into tears. Al-
cander, who doubtleſs knew the cauſe, and dreaded
an explanation, left the room without taking any
notice of my diſorder. Oh, how unlike was this to
his former behaviour! I thought I ſhould have
died with grief; but pride and reſentment came
to my aid: I reſolved not to add to Belinda's tri-
umph, by suffering my uneaſineſs to appear. I
therefore compoſed my looks; and when ſhe came
with an affected ſolicitude to enquire after my
health, ſhe found me in appearance eafy and
tranquil.

My husband finding me fully determined not to
hindern Belinda from leaving us, declared his in-
tention to go to London, and coldly aſked me
if it would be agreeable to me? I replied, that I
would certainly accompany him; ſo we all ſet out
together. Belinda and I parted with great indi-

D d 3

ference

406 THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ference on both sides. I dropt all intercourse
with her; and this put my husband into so bad a
humour, that he treated me with the most morti-
fying neglect.

My father was dead: my mother, who loved me
tenderly, and was attentive to the behaviour of my
husband, soon perceived the estrangement of his
affections. In her bosom I poured out all my for-
rows, and regulated my conduct by her prudence:
she recommended to me patience and silence; and
above all, conjured me to keep the fatal secret
from my brother; his temper was rash and impe-
tuous; he was extremely fond of me, and every
thing was to be dreaded from his resentment, if
my husband's injurious treatment ever came to his
knowledge. This however it was impossible to
prevent; my unhappy situation became generally
known, so open was Alcander in his neglect of me,
and his gallantries to Belinda.

My brother expostulated with him upon his be-
haviour: the event was what my mother and I
had often apprehended; they fought, Alcander
was wounded; he was brought home in a chair,
in a very weak condition. I swooned at the fight
of him, and when I recovered I found myself in
my mother's arms: she informed me my brother
was not hurt, and that Alcander's surgeons had
affured her he was not in the least danger. The
horrors I had laboured under were relieved by
this news, but my peace was lost for ever. I at-
tended my husband constantly during his illnefs,
which was but of short continuance; he received
my cares with a coldnefs that pierced me to the
heart;

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

heart; and when he was so far recovered as to be
able to go into the country, he gave me to un-
derstand that he would dispense with my com-
pany there.

I was beginning to expostulate with him; but
he stopped my mouth, by telling me with a de-
termined air, that he never could pardon me for
having exposed him to the insult he had received
from my brother; that I had made it impossible
for him to alter his conduct, since the world would
construe it into a base fear of my brother: he con-
cluded, with advising me to go and refide with my
mother, and without waiting for my answer, left
me.

I will not attempt to describe the various pas-
fions which tortured me by turns; but fond as I
still was of my faithless husband, the indignation I
felt for his unworthy usage of me, helped to sup-
port my spirits, and hindered me from yielding
to the violence of my grief. I put myself under
my mother's protection, and resigned myself quietly
to my fate.

My husband a few months afterwards went to
Italy, disgufted, as I have heard, with the be-
haviour of Belinda; who, to recover her reputa-
tion, which this affair had greatly fullied, sacrificed
him to her mirth upon all occasions, and made
her contempt of him as public as his attachment
to her had been. Her triumph however was short:
She experienced the greatest misfortune that could
happen to a woman who thought beauty the fu-
premest good: she was seized with the small-pox,

D d 4

which

[ 409 ]

TO THE
AUTHOR of the TRIFLER.

MADAM,

AS you confess that you are not superior to trifles, will you accept of a trifling criticism, which if honoured with a place in your Museum, may, for the future, perhaps occasion a different manner of reading and acting one particular passage in Macbeth, that hitherto has been generally, if not always, misunderstood and misapplied.

In the sixth scene of the fourth act, a meffenger of some rank, Roffe, comes to let Macduff know that his caftle has been surprifed, and his wife and children favagely flaughtered. The young king of Scotland, Malcolm, who had been some time at the English court, folliciting troops and affiftance from Edward the Confefior, undertakes to comfort his friend and subjeſt Macduff, who had attended him to England, and was deeply involved in his caufe. Macduff, for some moments, remains thunderſtruck and filent. Malcolm, by way of confolation, ſays,

> What, man, ne'er pull your hat upon your brows.
> Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak,
> whifpers the o'er fraught heart, and bids it break.

Macduff pays no regard or attention to Malcolm, but turning to Roffe, ſays, *My children too!*

Roffe

e was
ration
g it is
e who
herself

T A.

TO

410

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Roffe replies, *Wife, children, servants, all that could be found. Macduff. And I must be from thence: my wife killed too? Roffe. I've said.* Macduff makes no immediate answer; but enfolding his arms, and hanging down his head, in all the melancholy silence of inexpresstible grief, stands fixed like a statue on the farther side of the stage. Malcolm, endeavouring to awaken Macduff from this lethargy of woe, approaches near to him, and says, *Be comforted, let's make us medicines of our grief, revenge, to cure this deadly grief.* Macduff still remains motionlesst and unmoved; but when he looks up, and sees his royal friend Malcolm returned to Roffe, on the other side of the stage, he sighs deeply, and in a low voice expresstes himself thus: *He has no children. What all my pretty ones? did you say all? what all?* The expression, *He has no children, is supposed and understood to refer to Macbeth, who having no children, could not afford to Macduff an adequate revenge.* The supposedtion undoubtedly is natural. In cafes of injury, the law of retaliation never fails to occur to our minds, and to be the object of our passions: but the fact is not true. Macbeth had a son, his name was Luthlac. After the death of his father he was extremely troublesome to Malcolm: he claimed the crown; and though a very weak deficient young man, he answered the intentions of a rebellious party, confiting of such followers as had been attached to the late Macbeth. They carried him to Scone, and he was there saluted king. The competition was short, nor had it any very dangerous or extraordinary circumftances. In lefs than three months

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

411
months the usurper Luthlac was flain by Mal-
colm ? then, and not till then, ended the race of
Macbeth.

From hence it evidently appears that the sen-
tence, *He has no children*, cannot refer to Macbeth.
At whom then is it pointed ? At Malcolm. The
heart-ftruck Macduff heard with patience the con-
solatory advice, adminiftred by his royal mafter ;
but well knew, and could not avoid expreſſing to
himſelf, that as Malcolm had no children he could
little judge of that torrent of grief with which
Macduff muſt naturally be overwhelmed, at the
loſs of a wife, and *all his pretty ones*.

Malcolm was not married; he could not feel the
throbs of a parent's heart, or the anguish of an
husband's love. To him the sweet and inexpref-
fible fensations of nuptial happineſs were unknown:
he was ignorant of the decent pride, the riling
hopes, the alluring profpects, that occupy, and ſwell
alternately a father's breast. Young and unexpe-
rienced, he had not felt thofe thilling nerves of na-
ture, which are never ſtrung but by virtuous love
and parental palpitations. The good-natured Mal-
colm offered his advice unfeafonably: he broke
prematurely in upon ſorrow that muſt require time
and reaſon to ſink itſelf into the gulph of ſatiety. The
intention of Malcolm was kind to the higheſt de-
gree. The effect of that intention was exerted in
too haſty and too improper a manner, for Malcolm
bad no children.

This conſtruction ſeems ſupported by a ſentence
which ſoon follows, where Malcolm again comes
to the friendly charge of conſolation, and ſays,

Support

412

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

Support it like a man. I shall, says Macduff; but I
muſt also feel it as a man; that is, " I muſt feel it
" as an hufband and as a parent:" or to expatiate
upon the thought, Macduff in thofe few words means
thus to exprefs himſelf: " I muſt in the relation of
" father and hufband, ſuffer the deepeſt ſenfations
" of grief that human nature can imbibe. Not all
" the world can repair my loſs. By the cruel mur-
der of my wife, I am deprived, for ever depriv-
ed, of the beſt of all my friends. Many are dear
to me: ſhe was the deareſt. In my children, I
" have loſt the pride of my houſe, the comforts
" of my age, the engaging amuſements of my do-
" meſtic hours, the future ſervants, ſubjects, and
" defenders of my king and country. You muſt
" be a father and a hufband, Malcolm, 'ere you can
" meaſure my grief; for I cannot but remember
" ſuch things were, that were moſt precious to me."

According to this interpretation, the actor muſt
ſhow by ſome geſture, ſome motion either of his
head or hand, that Malcolm is the perſon in his
thoughts, when he ſays, *He has no children.* After
ſtaying ſome time in the place where he was firſt
ſtruck motionleſs, he is rouzed at once by indigna-
tion and croſſing the ſtage, ſays to Roffe, *What,
all my pretty ones ?*

In this view, I think, Shakeſpear displays his own
character, and reveals his own ſentiments as a pa-
rent. If the ſentence had referred ſolely to Mac-
beth (ſuppoſing he had no children) it carries with
it rage, ſury, and revenge ? If to Malcolm, it is the
reſlection of a wife confiderate man, who is thank-

ful

THE LADY'S MUSEUM.

ful to his friend for his advice, but conscious that
that advice is, for the present, to no purpose,

Buchanan in his History of Scotland evidently
proves, that Macbeth had a son at the time when
Macduff's wife and children were slain. Shake Spear,
the most exact of all dramatic historians, could never
intend that he should appear he had none. The
following quotation * will support me in my af-
fertion.

" Whilft these things were transfacted at Forfar,
" they who remained of the faction of Macbeth,
" carried his son Luthlac to Scone (who was fir-
" named Fatuus from his want of wit) and there
" he was saluted king. Malcolm affaulted him in
" the valley Bogian, where he was slain three
" months after he had ufurped the name of king;
" out of respect to the kingly race, his, and his
" father's bodies were buried in the royal fe-
" pulchres in Ionia." I am,

Madam,

Your most obedient

Humble Servant,

C. D.

* Buchanan, Book VII. the reign of Malcolm III. the eighty-sixth king of Scotland.

THE

[ 414 ]

IT was not long before Sophia had an account of Sir Charles's visit from her mother, who, forgetting the part she had acted before, wrote her a letter full of invectives against her obftinacy and disobedience, and bitter upbraidings of her folly, for losing by her ill-timed pride, the heart of such a man as Sir Charles.

She told her, with a kind of exultation, that he had utterly forgot her, and repeated every circumstance of his behaviour while he was with her, and every word he had spoke, as all tending to shew his indifference; but though this was done to mortify Sophia, and make her repent of her precipitate departure, yet her discernment, and that facility which lovers have, in flattering their own wishes, pointed out to her many things in this minute relation, which served rather to nourish hope than destroy it.

Mrs. Darnley added, as the finishing stroke, that Sir Charles looked pale and thin; she attributed this alteration in his health to the efforts he had made