CHARLOTTE LENNOX

In Two Volumes.

The Second Edition:

Revised and Corrected.

1752

Contents

Transcribers' note: The text of this digital edition was prepared from printed edition of 1752 (the revised and corrected 2nd edition) with some further standardisation of spelling and punctuation (also making use of the 1820 edition)

PREFACE

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF MIDDLESEX.

My Lord,

Such is the power of interest over almost every mind, that no one is long without arguments to prove any position which is ardently wished to be true, or to justify any measures which are dictated by inclination.

By this subtle sophistry of desire, I have been persuaded to hope that this book may, without impropriety, be inscribed to your lordship; but am not certain that my reasons will have the same force upon other understandings.

The dread which a writer feels of the public censure; the still greater dread of neglect; and the eager wish for support and protection, which is impressed by the consciousness of imbecility; are unknown to those who have never adventured into the world; and I am afraid, my lord, equally unknown to those who have always found the world ready to applaud them.

It is, therefore, not unlikely, that the design of this address may be mistaken, and the effects of my fear imputed to my vanity: they who see your lordship's name prefixed to my performance, will rather condemn my presumption, than compassionate my anxiety.

But, whatever be supposed my motive, the praise of judgment cannot be denied me; for to whom can timidity so properly fly for shelter, as to him who has been so long distinguished for candour and humanity? How can vanity be so completely gratified, as by the allowed patronage of him whose judgment has so long given a standard to the national taste? Or by what other means could I so powerfully suppress all opposition, but that of envy, as by declaring myself,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's

Obliged and most obedient

Humble Servant,

THE AUTHOR.

THE FEMALE QUIXOTE.

Chapter I.

Contains a turn at court, neither new nor surprising. Some useless additions to a fine lady's education. The bad effects of a whimsical study, which some will say is borrowed from Cervantes.

The Marquis of ——, for a long series of years, was the first and most distinguished favourite at court: he held the most honourable employments under the crown, disposed of all places of profit as he pleased, presided at the council, and in a manner governed the whole kingdom.

This extensive authority could not fail of making him many enemies: he fell at last a sacrifice to the plots they were continually forming against him; and was not only removed from all his employments, but banished the court for ever.

The pain his undeserved disgrace gave him, he was enabled to conceal by the natural haughtiness of his temper; and, behaving rather like a man who had resigned, than been dismissed from his posts, he imagined he triumphed sufficiently over the malice of his enemies, while he seemed to be wholly insensible of the effects it produced. His secret discontent, however, was so much augmented by the opportunity he now had of observing the baseness and ingratitude of mankind, which in some degree he experienced every day, that he resolved to quit all society whatever, and devote the rest of his life to solitude and privacy. For the place of his retreat he pitched upon a castle he had in a very remote province of the kingdom, in the neighbourhood of a small village, and several miles distant from any town. The vast extent of ground which surrounded this noble building, he had caused to be laid out in a manner peculiar to his taste: the most laborious endeavours of art had been used to make it appear like the beautiful product of wild,

uncultivated nature. But if this epitome of Arcadia could boast of only artless and simple beauties, the inside of the castle was adorned with a magnificence suitable to the dignity and immense riches of the owner.

While things were preparing at the castle for his reception, the marquis, though now advanced in years, cast his eyes on a young lady, greatly inferior to himself in quality, but whose beauty and good sense promised him an agreeable companion. After a very short courtship, he married her, and in a few weeks carried his new bride into the country, from whence he absolutely resolved never to return.

The marquis, following the plan of life he had laid down, divided his time between the company of his lady, his library, which was large and well furnished, and his gardens. Sometimes he took the diversion of hunting, but never admitted any company whatever; his pride and extreme reserve rendered him so wholly inaccessible to the country gentry about him, that none ever presumed to solicit his acquaintance.

In the second year of his retirement, the marchioness brought him a daughter, and died in three days after her delivery. The marquis, who had tenderly loved her, was extremely afflicted at her death; but time having produced its usual effects, his great fondness for the little Arabella entirely engrossed his attention, and made up all the happiness of his life. At four years of age he took her from under the direction of the nurses and women appointed to attend her, and permitted her to receive no part of her education from another, which he was capable of giving her himself. He taught her to read and write in a very few months; and, as she grew older, finding in her an uncommon quickness of apprehension, and an understanding capable of great improvements, he resolved to cultivate so promising a genius with the utmost care; and, as he frequently, in the rapture of paternal fondness, expressed himself, render her mind as beautiful as her person was lovely.

Nature had indeed given her a most charming face, a shape easy and delicate, a sweet and insinuating voice, and an air so full of dignity and grace, as drew the admiration of all that saw her. These native charms were improved with all the heightenings of art; her dress was perfectly magnificent; the best masters of music and dancing were sent for from London to attend her. She soon became a perfect mistress of the French and Italian languages, under the care of her father; and it is not to be doubted, but she would have made a great proficiency in all useful knowledge, had not her whole time been taken up by another study.

From her earliest youth she had discovered a fondness for reading, which extremely delighted the marquis; he permitted her therefore the use of his library, in which, unfortunately for her, were great store of romances, and, what was still more unfortunate, not in the original French, but very bad translations.

The deceased marchioness had purchased these books to soften a solitude which she found very disagreeable; and, after her death, the marquis removed them from her closet into his library, where Arabella found them.

The surprising adventures with which they were filled, proved a most pleasing entertainment to a young lady who was wholly secluded from the world; who had no other diversion, but ranging like a nymph through gardens, or, to say better, the woods and lawns in which she was enclosed; and who had no other conversation but that of a grave and melancholy father, or her own attendants.

Her ideas, from the manner of her life, and the objects around her, had taken a romantic turn; and, supposing romances were real pictures of life, from them she drew all her notions and expectations. By them she was taught to believe, that love was the ruling principle of the world; that every other passion was subordinate to this; and that it caused all the happiness and miseries of life. Her glass, which she often consulted, always showed her a form so extremely lovely, that, not finding herself engaged in such adventures as were common to the heroines in the romances she read, she often complained of the insensibility of mankind, upon whom her charms seemed to have so little influence.

The perfect retirement she lived in afforded, indeed, no opportunities of making the conquests she desired; but she could not comprehend how any solitude could be obscure enough to conceal a beauty like hers from notice; and thought the reputation of her charms sufficient to bring a crowd of adorers to demand her of her father. Her mind being wholly filled with the most extravagant expectations, she was alarmed by every trifling incident; and kept in a continual anxiety by a vicissitude of hopes, fears, wishes, and disappointments.

Chapter II.

Contains a description of a lady's dress, in fashion not much above two thousand years ago. The beginning of an adventure which seems to promise a great deal.

Arabella had now entered into her seventeenth year, with the regret of seeing herself the object of admiration to a few rustics only, who happened to see her; when, one Sunday, making use of the permission the marquis sometimes allowed her, to attend Divine service at the church belonging to the village near which they lived, her vanity was flattered with an adorer not altogether unworthy of her notice.

This gentleman was young, gay, handsome, and very elegantly dressed; he was just come from London with an intention to pass some weeks with a friend in that part of the country; and at the time Arabella entered the church, his eyes, which had wandered from one rural fair to another, were in an instant fixed upon her face. She blushed with a very becoming modesty; and, pleased with the unusual appearance of so fine a gentleman, and the particular notice he took of her, passed on to her seat through a double row of country people; who, with a profusion of awkward bows and curtsies, expressed their respect.

Mr. Hervey, for that was the stranger's name, was no less surprised at her beauty, than the singularity of her dress; and the odd whim of being followed into the church by three women attendants, who, as soon as she was seated, took their places behind her.

Her dress, though singular, was far from being unbecoming. All the beauties of her neck and shape were set off to the greatest advantage by the fashion of her gown, which, in the manner of a robe, was made to sit tight to her body; and fastened on the breast with a knot of diamonds. Her fine black hair hung upon her neck in curls, which had so much the appearance of being artless, that all but her maid, whose employment it was to give them that form, imagined they were so. Her head-dress was only a few knots advantageously disposed, over which she wore a white sarsenet hood, somewhat in the form of a veil, with which she sometimes wholly covered her fair face, when she saw herself beheld with too much attention.

This veil had never appeared to her so necessary before. Mr. Hervey's eager glances threw her into so much confusion, that, pulling it over her face as much as she was able, she remained invisible to him all the time they afterwards stayed in the church. This action, by which she would have had him understand, that she was displeased at his gazing on her with so little respect, only increased his curiosity to know who she was.

When the congregation was dismissed, he hastened to the door, with an intention to offer her his hand to help her to her coach; but seeing the magnificent equipage that waited for her, and the number of servants that attended it, he conceived a much higher idea of her quality than he had at first; and, changing his design, contented himself with only bowing to her as she passed; and as soon as her coach drove away, enquired of some persons nearest him, who she was?

These rustics, highly delighted with the opportunity of talking to the gay Londoner, whom they looked upon as a very extraordinary person, gave him all the intelligence they were able, concerning the lady he enquired after; and filled him with an inconceivable surprise at the strange humour of the marquis, who buried so beautiful a creature in obscurity.

At his return home, he expressed his admiration of her in terms that persuaded his friend she had made some impression on his heart; and, after rallying him a little upon this suspicion, he assumed a more serious air, and told him, if he really liked Lady Bella, he thought it not impossible but he might obtain her. The poor girl, added he, has been kept in confinement so long, that I believe it would not be difficult to persuade her to free herself by marriage. She never had a lover in her life; and therefore the first person who addresses her has the fairest chance for succeeding.

Mr. Hervey, though he could not persuade himself his cousin was in earnest when he advised him to court the only daughter of a man of the marquis's quality, and heiress to his vast estates; yet relished the scheme, and resolved to make some attempt upon her before he left the country. However, he concealed his design from his cousin, not being willing to expose himself to be ridiculed, if he did not succeed; and, turning the advice he had given him into a jest, left him in the opinion that he thought no more of it.

Chapter III.

In which the adventure goes on after the accustomed manner.

Arabella, in the mean time, was wholly taken up with the adventure, as she called it, at church: the person and dress of the gentleman who had so particularly gazed on her there, was so different from what she had been accustomed to see, that she immediately concluded he was of some distinguished rank. It was past a doubt, she thought, that he was excessively in love with her; and as she soon expected to have some very extraordinary proofs of his passion, her thoughts were wholly employed on the manner in which she should receive them.

As soon as she came home, and had paid her duty to the marquis, she hurried to her chamber, to be at liberty to indulge her agreeable reflections; and, after the example of her heroines, when any thing extraordinary happened to them, called her favourite woman; or, to use her own language, her, "in whom she confided her most secret thoughts."

Well, Lucy, said she, did you observe that stranger who eyed us[1] so heedfully to-day at church?

This girl, notwithstanding her country simplicity, knew a compliment was expected from her on this occasion; and therefore replied, that she did not wonder at the gentleman's staring at her; for she was sure he had never seen any body so handsome as her ladyship before.

I have not all the beauty you attribute to me, said Arabella, smiling a little: and with a very moderate share of it, I might well fix the attention of a person who seemed to be not over much pleased with the objects about him. However, pursued she, assuming a more serious air, if this stranger be weak enough to entertain any sentiments more than indifferent for me, I charge you, upon pain of my displeasure, do not be accessary to the conveying his presumptuous thoughts to me, either by letters or messages; nor suffer him to corrupt your fidelity with the presents he will very probably offer you.

Lucy, to whom this speech first gave a hint of what she ought to expect from her lady's lovers, finding herself of more importance than she imagined, was so pleased at the prospect which opened to her, that it was with some hesitation she promised to obey her orders.

Arabella, however, was satisfied with her assurances of observing her directions; and dismissed her from her presence, not without an apprehension of being too well obeyed.

A whole week being elapsed without meeting with the importunities she expected, she could hardly conceal her surprise at so mortifying a disappointment; and frequently interrogated Lucy, concerning any attempts the stranger had made on her fidelity; but the answers she received only increased her discontent, as they convinced her, her charms had not had the effect she imagined.

Mr. Hervey, however, had been all this time employed in thinking of some means to get acquainted with the marquis; for, being possessed with an extraordinary opinion of his wit, and personal accomplishments, he did not fear making some impression on the heart of the young lady; provided he could have an opportunity of conversing with her.

His cousin's advice was continually in his mind, and flattered his vanity with the most agreeable hopes: but the marquis's fondness for solitude, and that haughtiness which was natural to him, rendered him so difficult of access, that Hervey, from the intelligence he received of his humour, despaired of being able to prosecute his scheme; when, meeting with a young farmer in one of his evening walks, and entering into conversation with him upon several country subjects, the discourse at last turned upon the Marquis of ——, whose fine house and gardens were within their view; upon which the young fellow informed him, he was brother to a young woman that attended the Lady Arabella; and, being fond of lengthening out the conversation with so fine a gentleman, gave him, without being desired, the domestic history of the whole family, as he had received it from Lucy, who was the sister he mentioned.

Hervey, excessively delighted at this accidental meeting with a person so capable of serving his design, affected a great desire of being better acquainted with him; and, under pretence of acquiring some knowledge in rural affairs, accustomed himself to call so often at William's farm, that, at last, he met with the person whom the hopes of seeing had so often carried him thither.

Lucy, the moment she saw him enter, knowing him again, blushed at the remembrance of the discourse which had passed between her lady and herself concerning him; and was not at all surprised at the endeavours he used to speak to her apart: but, as soon as he began a conversation concerning Arabella, she interrupted him by saying, I know, sir, that you are distractedly in love with my lady; but she has forbid me to receive any letters or messages from you; and therefore I beg you will not offer to bribe me; for I dare not disobey her.

Mr. Hervey was at first so astonished at her speech, that he knew not what to think of it; but, after a little reflection, attributing to an excess of awkward cunning what, in reality, was an effect of her simplicity, he resolved to make use of the hint she had given him; and, presenting her with a couple of guineas, entreated her to venture displeasing her lady, by bearing a letter from him; promising to reward her better, if she succeeded.

Lucy made some difficulty to comply; but, not being able absolutely to refuse the first bribe that ever was offered to her, she, after some entreaties, consented to take the letter; and receiving the money he presented her, left him at liberty to write, after she had got her brother to furnish him with materials for that purpose.

[1] The heroines always speak of themselves in the plural number.

Chapter IV.

A mistake, which produces no great consequences. An extraordinary comment upon a behaviour natural enough. An instance of a lady's compassion for her lover, which the reader may possibly think not very compassionate.

Hervey, who was master of no great elegance in letter-writing, was at first at some loss, how to address a lady of her quality, to whom he was an absolute stranger, upon the subject of love; but, conceiving there was no great occasion for much ceremony in declaring himself to one who had been educated in the country, and who, he believed, could not be displeased with a lover of his figure, he therefore, in plain terms, told her how deeply he was enamoured of her; and conjured her to afford him some opportunity of paying his respects to her.

Lucy received this letter from him with a worse grace than she did the gold; and, though she promised him to deliver it to her lady immediately, yet she kept it a day or two before she had the courage to attempt it: at last, drawing it out of her pocket, with a bashful air, she presented it to her lady, telling her it came from the fine gentleman whom she saw at church.