"MY AUNT PEG."
In the _Vicar of Wakefield_, Dr. Goldsmith describes Burch.e.l.l in company with a couple of courtesans, a.s.suming the manners and language of ladies of quality. The penetrating humourist, at the close of every sentence from these frail damsels, boasting intimacy with high life, emphatically and poignantly exclaims, "Fudge." When the ridiculous in manners, or the insipid in conversation and life, appears to _Tom Toledo_, whose nose is as curved as a fish-hook, by an inveterate habit of sneering, "tis _Tom"s way_ to baptize the oddity--_My aunt Peg_.
Now, whether _my aunt Peg_, like TRISTRAM SHANDY"s _aunt Dinah_, having been guilty of some back-slidings in her youth, has forfeited her right to respect from the family; or whether certain envious prudes, as is their wont, have leagued, and look prim against her, when she appears, is a question I cannot _sagely_ solve. Certain it is, she is degraded from the rank of gentlewoman, and now keeps low and contemptible company.
_My aunt Peg_, like an English actress of scorched reputation, often exchanges the petticoats for the breeches, and disguised in male apparel, spouts farce and low comedy, at the _Theatre Universal_. Though she "has her exits and her entrances," and "plays many parts," yet critical spectators are always dissatisfied with her style of acting; her a.s.sumed, cannot mask her real character, and pit, box, and gallery, hiss "_aunt Peg_."
Sauntering last term into a court of justice, I mingled with "the swinish mult.i.tude," and figured to myself a union of law and eloquence, in the charge to the jurors from the bench. The person speaking, for I absurdly mistook him for the judge, resembling SANCHO PANZA in the island Barataria, rather than BULLER, HALE, or TALBOT, I plucked _Toledo_ by the sleeve, and asked if his honour"s name were not _Dogberry_. By St. Mansfield, he deserves, when time and place shall serve, to be "set down for an a.s.s." It is no Judge, says _Tom_: that broad, and vacant starer is--_my aunt Peg_.
d.i.c.kEY DANGLE, _the ladies" man_, plays three hours with my cousin Charlotte"s thimble, and fancies that he is courting her. A wag in my neighbourhood, a lover of _pepper-pots_, observing this frivolous "man of lath," with an unthrobbing pulse, gazing _sedately_ on the eyes of a fine girl, and praising her cherry lips, without a wish to _press_ them, swears that he is the very fribble of SHAKESPEARE; that
"This is he, Who kissed away his hand in courtesy; This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, --------WHOM LADIES CALL THEIR SWEET."
And asks, in the phrase of MARLOW, if I shall suffer my cousin to live with him and be his love. No. A contract of matrimony between _two females_ is absurd, and not good in law; for doubtless d.i.c.kEY is--_my aunt Peg_.
A literary friend, after a lonesome journey through a boorish quarter of the country, on his arrival at an inn, exults, when the waiter informs him, that the young fellow, entering the room, "has been _to_ college."
The conversation naturally turns upon books. Do you relish the belles lettres? Oh yes, I read _Rollin"s belles lettres_ last winter, and liked them mightily. The indignant traveller frowned--he was unconscious that a degree in _arts_ was frequently conferred on--_my aunt Peg_.
When I was at the university--I beg that the world would suppose I mean Oxford, Edinburgh, or Aberdeen, and not _our_ college of Cambridge, for which I have singular affection--if a lad were guilty of genius, a tribunal of tasteless tutors, professors, &c., would doom him to expulsion. What, said they, a man of genius in a _college?_ It cannot, must not be.--Why Issachar, our strong a.s.s, couching down between his two burdens, Greek on one side, and Mathematics on the other, will bray and break, bridle at the very sight of him. Yes, says Candor, their "worships and their reverences" are, in very deed,--_my aunt Peg_.
Half a century since, dame FRANCE was a stately old gentlewoman, proud of her pedigree, a.s.sociating with men of rank, and keeping servants at a distance. But the devil, REFORM, began to haunt her house, and she insisted that the table should be laid in the _cellar_, instead of the parlor. Some of her refractory domestics, who disobeyed this whimsical order, she turned out of doors, hung up others to the kitchen lamp with the jack line; and at length, a.s.sisted by a cruel dog of a joiner, she fixed a butcher"s cleaver into an old box, and fairly chopped the _Steward_"s head off.--Not one of her _rational_ neighbours, who witnessed those mad deeds, but went away exclaiming,--Good lack! that such a n.o.ble lady should be vilely metamorphosed into--_my aunt Peg_.
[[For sources, see the end of the second installment.]]
INTERESTING STORY OF MADELAINE.
By Helen Maria Williams.
A friend of mine, who is lately gone to Toulouse, has sent me from thence an account of some circ.u.mstances which happened not long ago in that part of France, and which she says are still much the subject of conversation. I shall transcribe this narrative, which I believe will interest you. Perhaps a novel-writer, by the aid of a little additional misery, and by giving the circ.u.mstances which actually happened a heightened colour--by taking his pallet, and dashing with a full glow of red what nature had only tinged with pale violet, might almost spin a volume from these materials. Yet, after all, nothing is so affecting as simplicity, and nothing so forcible as truth. I shall therefore send you the story exactly as I received it; and in such parts of it as want interest, I beg you will recollect that you are not reading a tale of fiction; and that in real life incidents are not always placed as they are in novels, so as to produce stage effect. In some parts of the narrative you will meet with a little romance; but, perhaps, you will wonder that you meet with no more; since the scene is not in the cold philosophic climate of England, but in the warm regions of the south of France, where the imagination is elevated, where the pa.s.sions acquire extraordinary energy, and where the fire of poetry flashed from the harps of the Troubadours amidst the sullen gloom of the Gothic ages.
A young Frenchman, whose usual residence was at Paris, having travelled as far as Toulouse the year before the Revolution, was invited by a party of his friends to accompany them to Bareges, where some of them were going in pursuit of amus.e.m.e.nt and others in search of health from the medicinal springs which rise so plentifully, both in hot and cold streams, among the Pyrenean mountains.
This young Parisian, who had some taste for the sublime scenery of Nature, felt that it would be luxury to leave a little longer the regular walks, which Art had planted in the Tuilleries, and the trim gardens and jets d"eaux she has formed at Versailles; to wander amongst those piles of mountains which overhang each other, and listen to the torrents which fall down them with loud and irresistible impetuosity.
"Rich in her weeping country"s spoils, Versailles May boast a thousand fountains, that can cast The tortur"d waters to the distant heav"ns; Yet let me choose some pine-topp"d precipice Abrupt and s.h.a.ggy, whence a foamy stream, Like Anio, tumbling roars."----
What powerful sensations does the first view of such a scene produce!--We seem to begin a new existence--every former impression is for a while erased from the memory, and the mind feels enrapped and lost in the strong emotions of awe, astonishment, and admiration.
Bareges was crouded, as it usually is in the season, not only with French company, but also with strangers, who travel from other countries, in order to use its celebrated baths. The company amused themselves, as they generally do at water-drinking places, by sauntering, lounging, cards, lotteries, jeux-d"esprit, and scandal.
Bareges is a very expensive place. Even moderate accommodations must be purchased at a high rate; and provisions, as well as lodgings, are sometimes obtained with difficulty. Bareges is therefore seldom resorted to by any but people of considerable fortune, who can afford to level the obstacles which mountains interpose to their conveniences and comforts, by the all subduing force of gold.
Among a number of persons of rank and fortune, there was however one family at Bareges in a different situation. This family consisted of an elderly infirm French officer, who had long been afflicted with the palsy, and his daughter, a young woman about nineteen years of age.
Their appearance and mode of living seemed to indicate, that, though in search of relief, this old officer had journeyed to Bareges, he had in so doing far exceeded the bounds of economy, which his circ.u.mstances prescribed, and was forced to deny himself every accommodation his infirmities could spare. He lived in the most retired manner, in the worst lodgings at Bareges; and, while the other ladies were dressed in a style of expensive variety and profusion, his daughter wore only a plain linen gown, which, though always perfectly clean, was coa.r.s.e; and her dark hair was left unpowdered and without any ornament whatever.
Fortunately for Madelaine, however, (for that was her name) her person was calculated to make her coa.r.s.e gown appear to the best advantage; and though she was not very beautiful, her countenance had an expression of sweetness which answered the end of beauty by exciting love and admiration.
The company at Bareges soon became acquainted with each other, and the ladies always took notice of Madelaine when they met her in their walks, which however did not happen very often, for her father was frequently unable so go out. When he did, he was supported on one side by Madelaine, and on the other by his servant. It was impossible to see with insensibility the attention which this interesting young woman paid to her father, whom she never quitted one moment. It was remarked with what careful tenderness she used to lead him along the streets of Bareges, walking the slowest pace she could, and watching his steps as he moved feebly on. And when he was not able to venture out, she was seen at the window of their little parlour reading in order to entertain him. Her looks and manner announced that her disposition was naturally sprightly, and that she would have been gay if her father had not been sick. But all the chearfulness she could a.s.sume while he suffered, was exerted to amuse him, and shorten the tedious hours of langour and debility.
Though Madelaine was handsome, the obscurity and seclusion in which she lived preserved her from the envy of the women. They knew well enough that the gentlemen at Bareges were for the most part men of the world, who, though they may admire beauty, and approve of virtue, are never so far the dupes of any tender or moral sentiment as to let it interfere either with their vanity, their ambition, or their interest. Although the French Revolution had not yet happened, these ladies were aware that, with respect to marriage, the age of _calculators_ was already come, and therefore no rival was to be feared in Madelaine. The ladies joined with the men in admiring the graces of her person, and the amiable qualities which her conduct displayed. Madelaine, in short, became the object of general esteem.
Auguste, for so I shall call our young Parisian, who has lost his t.i.tle since the laws of equality have been established in his country--Auguste spoke less of Madelaine than the other gentlemen at Bareges; but it was perhaps because he thought of her more. Sometimes, in his solitary morning rambles, he used to make comparisons between her and the Parisian ladies among whom he had pa.s.sed the winter, and the comparison generally ended with a deep sigh. The scene of these meditations was certainly much in Madelaine"s favour. Perhaps, at Paris or Versailles, Auguste might have been dazzled by the polished graces of a fine lady rouged, powdered, perfumed, and equipped for conquest. These artificial attractions might perhaps have accorded well enough with clipped trees, and angular walks. But Madelaine"s simple manners, Madeline"s natural smiles and unstudied blushes, were far more in unison with the Pyrenean mountains.
One evening, when Auguste was walking in the town of Bareges with some ladies, he saw Madelaine at a little distance a.s.sisting with great difficulty to support her father, who appeared to be seized with a fit.
Auguste darted like an arrow towards the spot, and held up the officer till he found himself somewhat recovered; and then Auguste, with a sort of gentle violence, obliged Madelaine, who was pale and trembling, to let go her father"s arm and suffer him to a.s.sist the servant in leading him home, which was but a few steps farther. Auguste entered the house, where he remained till the old officer was a little revived; and, after prevailing upon Madelaine to take a few hartshorn drops, he retired.
The next morning he felt that common civility required he should pay the old officer a visit, and learn how he had pa.s.sed the night. It happened that Madelaine had the very same idea. "Surely," thought she, "it will be very strange if this young man, who was so kind, so careful of my father, and who made me take some hartshorn drops, should neglect to call and enquire after us!" This idea had come across her mind several times; and she was meditating upon it at her father"s bedside, when Auguste was announced.
The old officer, who had all the finished politeness of his country and his profession, received him in the most courteous manner; and, though he spoke with some difficulty, yet he was profuse in acknowledgments for the service Auguste had rendered him. Madelaine"s thanks were few and simply expressed; but the tone in which they were uttered was such that Auguste felt he could have sacrificed his life to have deserved them.
The old officer still continued sick, and therefore Auguste still considered it as an indispensable mark of attention to go every day, and learn the state of his health. He also began to feel that these visits became every day more necessary to his own happiness. That happiness was, indeed, embittered by many painful reflections. He well knew, that to obtain his father the Count de ----"s consent to marry Madelaine, was as impossible as it was for himself to conquer the pa.s.sion she had inspired. He knew exactly the order in which his father"s enquiries would run on this subject. He was aware that there were two interrogatories to be answered. The first was--"How many thousand livres has she a year?" And the second--"Is she n.o.ble?" And nothing could be more embarra.s.sing than that the enquiry concerning fortune would, he was sure, come first: since that was the only article which could not be answered in a satisfactory manner; for to Madelaine"s family no objection could have been made. By the way, though the former n.o.bility of France would not absolutely contaminate the pure streams of n.o.ble blood by an union with the daughter of a _roturier_, they had always sufficient generosity to abate some generations of n.o.bility in favour of a proper equivalent in wealth.
Auguste, while he was convinced of the impossibility of obtaining his father"s consent to his marriage, did not pay Madelaine one visit the less from that consideration; and when the usual hour of his visit arrived, he often suddenly broke a chain of admirable reasoning on the imprudence of his attachment, in order to hasten to the dwelling of her he loved. In a short time he ceased all kind of reasoning on the subject, and abandoned his heart without reserve to the most violent and unconquerable pa.s.sion.
Auguste made a declaration to the old officer of the sentiments which his daughter had inspired. The old gentleman mentioned it to Madelaine; and she only answered by tears, of which he perfectly understood the meaning. When Auguste explained his situation with respect to his father, the officer desired him to think of his daughter no more.
Auguste felt that he might as well have desired him to cease to breathe.
He continued his visits, and the officer was soon reduced to that state of languor and debility which left him neither the power nor the wish to forbid them. His complaints increased every day, and were attended with many alarming symptoms. The season for the waters of Bareges was now past, and all the company left the place, except the old officer, who was too weak to be removed, and Auguste, who, while Madelaine remained, had no power to tear himself from the spot. In a few weeks the old officer felt that his dying hour was near. Auguste knelt with Madelaine at his bedside--her voice was suffocated by tears; and Auguste had scarcely power to articulate in broken accents that he would devote his life to the happiness of Madelaine. The old officer fixed his eyes with a look of tender anxiety upon his daughter, and soon after expired.
Madelaine mourned for her father with uncontrouled affliction; nor could all the attentions of her lover dispel that anguish, with which her affectionate heart lamented the loss of her parent.
The winter being far advanced, she proposed to defer her journey to the distant province where she and her father had lived, until spring, and to place herself in the mean time in a convent not far from Bareges.
Auguste exerted all the eloquence of love, to induce her to consent immediately to a private marriage. She hesitated at this proposal; and, while they were conversing together on the subject, the door of the room in which they were sitting was suddenly thrown open, and Auguste saw his father the Count de ---- enter. He had heard of the attachment which detained his son at Bareges, and had hastened to tear him from the spot before it was too late. He upbraided his son with great bitterness, and began also to upbraid Madelaine: but there was something in her looks, her silence, and her tears, which stifled the terms of haughty reproach in which he was prepared to address her; and, ordering his son to leave the room, he desired to speak to her alone. After explaining to her the absolute impossibility of her being ever united to his son, and his determination to disinherit him, and leave his whole fortune to his second son, if Auguste should persist in his attachment to her--after endeavouring to awaken her pride and her generosity, he desired to know where she proposed going. She told him her intention of placing herself immediately in the convent of ----. He approved of this design, and left her to go to his son. No sooner was the door of the room shut, than Madelaine gave way to those tears which she had scarcely been able to restrain while the Count was speaking. She had never felt so sensibly her orphan condition as at this moment; and the dear remembrance of her fond father, was mingled with the agony of disappointed love.
Mean time the Count de ---- declared to his son, that his only chance of ever obtaining his mistress depended on his absolute unconditional submission to his commands, and that he must instantly attend him to Paris. Auguste eagerly enquired what was to become of Madelaine; and his father told him that she had determined to take refuge in the convent of ----. Auguste absolutely refused to depart till he was allowed an interview with Madelaine. The Count was obliged to consent; but before he suffered them to meet, he obtained a promise from Madelaine not to mention to her lover any particulars of the conversation which had pa.s.sed between her and the Count.
Auguste, in this last interview with Madelaine, atoned for the cruel disdain of his father, by the most solemn and pa.s.sionate a.s.surances of fidelity, not to be shaken by time or circ.u.mstance; and then, after attempting to leave the room several times, and returning as often, he at length tore himself away. Madelaine, when she saw him depart, felt that every earthly hope had vanished with him.
She set out early the next morning for the convent of ----; but not till after she had sat some time weeping in the chair which Auguste used to occupy.
(To be concluded in our next.)
_ANECDOTES._
During the reign of King James II. and when the people were much oppressed and burdened with taxes, that monarch made a very expensive tour thro" England; and on his return he slept at the palace of Winchester. The Mayor and Corporation, for the honour done them by this royal visit, determined to address his Majesty in the morning; but as the Mayor could neither _read nor write_, it was agreed the Recorder should prompt him on the occasion.
Accordingly, being introduced into the Royal presence, and every thing ready for the ceremony, the Recorder, by way of encouraging the Mayor, who appeared aukward and embarra.s.sed, gently jogged his elbow, and at the same time whispered in his ear, "Hold up your head--look like a man." The Mayor mistaking this for the beginning of the speech, stared the King boldly in the face, and with a loud voice repeated, "Hold up your head---look like a man."---The Recorder, amazed at this behaviour, again whispered the Mayor, "What the devil do you mean?" The Mayor, in the same manner, instantly repeated, "What the devil do you mean?" The Recorder, chagrined at this untoward circ.u.mstance, and fearing his Majesty"s displeasure, still whispering in the Mayor"s ear said, "By G--d, Sir, you"ll ruin us all;" which the Mayor taking to be a continuance of the speech, and still staring the King in the face, with a louder voice than before repeated, "By G--d, Sir, you"ll ruin us all."
The King on this rose with some anger, but being informed of the cause of this rough address his Majesty was pleased to pa.s.s by with a smile, and the Corporation was perfectly satisfied with the honor done them.
An Hibernian _plaintiff_, (a gentleman whose attachment to law finally induced him to sell his last field for the purpose of prosecuting a man who broke down his _fence_) died lately in Ireland; when, in searching his papers, they found the following _memorandum_:--"Cast in _nine_ lawsuits, and _gained_ one, by which I lost 1000l."