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 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE 
 WORDSWORTH COLLECTION 
 
 FOUNDED BY 
 CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 VICTOR EMANUEL 
 
 OF THE CLASS OF I919 
 
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FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 BY 
 
 BASIL MONTAGU. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 J. BOHN, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND. 
 
 MDCCCXLV. 
 
LONDON: 
 
 WILLIAM STEVENS, PRINTER, BELL YARD, 
 TEMPLE BAR. 
 
 
 t? 
 
 
TO HIS DEAR EDITH, FROM HER 
 AFFECTIONATE GRANDFATHER. — B. M. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 There are certain properties of the female 
 mind upon which doubt has existed, and may, 
 possibly, long exist. 
 
 1 . Women are said to be fond of ornament — 
 an evil against which they were thus warned by 
 St. Paul — " I will that women adorn themselves 
 in modest apparel, with shamefacedess and so- 
 briety, not with embroidered hair, or gold, or 
 pearls, or costly array, but which becometh 
 women professing godliness, with good works. 11 
 
 2. Women are said to be fond of gaiety : 
 
 " Some men to business, some to pleasure take," — 
 
 but the ruling passion of woman is not the love 
 of business. 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 3. It is said that women act more from impulse 
 than from foresight : 
 
 " Men have many faults, women have only two, — " 
 
 of which the want of foresight is one. 
 
 4. Women, it is said, are variable : 
 
 " Varium et mutabile semper 
 
 Fcemina." 
 
 Women are fond of intellect, of courage, of 
 virtue ; and are capable of the most heroic acts. 
 
 Such are properties of the female mind, upon 
 which doubt may be entertained ; but there is 
 one property upon which doubt cannot exist — 
 it is the nature of woman to be affectionate. 
 
 B. M. 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF AFFECTION. 
 
 The pleasures of the affections are Love, 
 Friendship, Gratitude, and general Benevolence. 
 
 " For the pleasures of the affections," says 
 Lord Bacon, " we must resort to the poets, for 
 there affection is on her throne, there we may 
 find her painted forth to the life." 
 
 Instead of referring us to the poets, he might, 
 according to his own admonitions, have referred 
 us to the certain mode of discovering truth, by 
 observing facts around us, and particularly by 
 observing the nature sought, where it is most 
 conspicuous. 
 
 In searching, for any nature, observe it, he 
 says, where it is most conspicuous; as, in in- 
 quiring into the nature of flame, observe the 
 sudden ignition and expansion of gas — these are 
 what he calls " glaring instances.' 1 ' 1 
 
 The glaring instance of affection is Female 
 Affection ; there indeed she is on her throne, 
 there we may find her painted forth to the life. 
 It is the nature of woman to be affectionate. 
 
<* FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 § I. 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION IN GENERAL. 
 
 MUNGO PARK. 
 
 When stating the miseries to which he was 
 exposed in Africa, Mungo Park says, " I never, 
 when in distress and misery, applied for relief to 
 a female, without finding pity, — and if she had 
 the power, assistance." And he thus mentions 
 one instance, — " I waited," he says, " more than 
 two hours for an opportunity to cross that river, 
 but one of the chief men informed me that I 
 must not presume to cross without the King's 
 permission ; he therefore advised me to lodge at 
 a distant village, to which he pointed, for the 
 night. I found to my great mortification that 
 no person would admit me into his house ; — I was 
 regarded with astonishment and fear, and was 
 obliged to sit all day without victuals in the shade 
 of a tree ; and the night threatened to be very 
 uncomfortable, for the wind rose, and there was 
 great appearance of a heavy rain ; and the wild 
 beasts are so very numerous that I should have 
 been under the necessity of climbing up the tree 
 and resting among the branches. About sunset 
 as I was preparing to pass the night in this 
 manner, and had turned my horse loose that he 
 might graze at liberty, a woman, returning from 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 5 
 
 the labours of the field, stopped to observe me, 
 and perceiving that I was weary and dejected, 
 inquired into my situation, which I briefly ex- 
 plained to her ; whereupon, with looks of great 
 compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, 
 and told me to follow her. Having conducted 
 me into her hut, she lighted a lamp, spread 
 a mat on the floor, and told me I might re- 
 main there for the night. Finding that I was 
 hungry, she gave me a very fine fish for my sup- 
 per ; and pointing to the mat, and telling me I 
 might sleep there without apprehension, she 
 called to the female part of her family, who had 
 stood gazing on me all the while in fixed aston- 
 ishment, to resume their task of spinning cotton, 
 in which they continued to employ themselves 
 great part of the night. They lightened their 
 labour by songs ; one of which was composed ex- 
 tempore — for I was, myself, the subject of it : it 
 was sung by one of the young women, the rest 
 joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet 
 and plaintive ; and the words, literally translated, 
 were these : — 
 
 " The winds roared, and the rains fell, — the 
 poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat 
 under our tree, — he has no mother to bring him 
 milk, — no wife to grind his corn. — Chorus — Let 
 us pity the white man, — no mother has he ! " Sfc. 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 GRIFFITH. 
 
 " On the northern side of the plain we had 
 just entered, was a large encampment of these 
 people. Being in absolute want of milk, I de- 
 termined to solicit the assistance of these Tur- 
 comans. Approaching their tents, with gradual 
 step, and apparent indifference, I passed several, 
 without observing any probability of succeeding : 
 children, only, were to be seen near the spot 
 where I was, and men with their flocks, at a 
 certain distance ; advancing still farther, I saw a 
 woman, at the entrance of a small tent, occupied 
 in domestic employment. Convinced that an 
 appeal to the feelings of the female sex, 
 offered with decency, by a man distressed with 
 hunger, would not be rejected, I held out my 
 wooden bowl, and reversing it, made a salu- 
 tation according to the forms of the country. 
 The kind Turcomannee covered her face pre- 
 cipitately, and retired within the tent. I did not 
 advance a step ; she saw me unassuming, — my 
 inverted bowl still explained my wants. The ti- 
 midity of her sex, the usages of her country, and, 
 even the fear of danger, gave way to the bene- 
 volence of her heart : she went to the tent 
 again ; returned speedily with a bowl of milk, 
 and, advancing towards me with a glance more 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 7 
 
 than half averted, filled my bowl to the brim, and 
 vanished." 
 
 LEDYARD. 
 
 "I never addressed myself in the language of de- 
 cency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized 
 or savage, without receiving a decent and friendly 
 answer. With man it has often been otherwise, 
 — in wandering over the barren plains of inhos- 
 pitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen 
 Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled 
 Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wan- 
 dering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, 
 woman has ever been friendly to me, — and uni- 
 formly so ; and to add to this virtue, so worthy 
 the appellation of benevolence, these actions have 
 been performed in so kind a manner, that if I 
 was dry, I drank the sweet draught, — and if hun- 
 gry, ate the coarse morsel with a double relish." 
 
 PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " And there went a man of the house of 
 Levi, and took to wife a daughter of Levi. 
 And the woman conceived, and bare a son: 
 and when she saw him that he was a goodly 
 child, she hid him three months. And when 
 
8 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 she could not longer hide him, she took for him 
 an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime 
 and with pitch, and put the child therein ; and 
 she laid it in the flags by the river's brink. And 
 his sister stood afar off, to wit what would be 
 done to him. And the daughter of Pharaoh 
 came down to the river ; and her maidens 
 walked along by the river's side ; and when she 
 saw the ark among the flags, she sent her maid 
 to fetch it. And when she had opened it, she 
 saw the child : and, behold, the babe wept. 
 And she had compassion on him, and said, — This 
 is one of the Hebrews' children. Then said his 
 sister to Pharaoh's daughter, ' Shall I go and 
 call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that 
 she may nurse the child for thee I ' And Pha- 
 raoh's daughter said to her, 'Go.' And the 
 maid went and called the child's mother. And 
 Pharaoh's daughter said unto her, ' Take this 
 child away, and nurse it for me, and I will give* 
 thee thy wages.' And the woman took the 
 child, and nursed it." 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 9 
 
 § II. 
 
 DIFFERENT FORMS OF FEMALE AFFECTION- 
 The nature of female affection may be seen in 
 a variety of forms, — in Infancy, in the sweet love 
 of Youth, of a Wife, of a Mother, of a Daugh- 
 ter, of a Widow. 
 
 INFANCY. 
 
 The following is an account which I some- 
 where read of Nell Gwynn, when a child : — 
 " My first love, you must know, was a link- 
 boy,"— "A what?"—"'Tm true," said she, "for 
 all the frightfulness of your what ! — and a very 
 good soul he was, too, poor Dick ! and had the 
 heart of a gentleman ; God knows what has 
 become of him, but when I last saw him he said 
 he would humbly love me to his dying day. He 
 used to say that I must have been a lord's 
 daughter for my beauty, and that I ought to 
 ride in my coach ; and he behaved to me as if I 
 did. He, poor boy, would light me and my 
 mother home, when we had sold our oranges, to 
 our lodgings in Lewknor's Lane, as if we had 
 been ladies of the land. He said he never felt 
 easy for the evening 'till he had asked me how I 
 did, then he went gaily about his work ; and if 
 he saw us housed at night, he slept like a prince. 
 I shall never forget when he came flushing and, 
 
10 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 stammering, and drew out of his pocket a pair 
 of worsted stockings, which he brought for my 
 naked feet. It was bitter cold weather ; and I 
 had chilblains, which made me hobble about 
 'till I cried, — and what does poor Richard do but 
 work hard like a horse, and buy me these 
 worsted stockings ? My mother bade him put 
 them on ; and so he did, and his warm tears fell 
 on my chilblains, and he said he should be the 
 happiest lad on earth if the stockings did me 
 any good." 
 
 When the Commissioners visited the Peni- 
 tentiary at Lambeth, where the prisoners are 
 punished by solitary confinement, they found in 
 one cell a little girl, between eleven and twelve 
 years of age. This child must have spent many 
 hours every day in the dark ; was poorly clad, and 
 scantily fed, and her young limbs were deprived 
 of all the joyous modes of playful exercise, so ne- 
 cessary and so pleasant to that age : she asked 
 neither for food, nor clothes, nor light, nor liberty, 
 — all she wished for was " a little doll, that she 
 might dress and nurse it." Her innocent and 
 child-like request put an end to this cruel 
 punishment for children. 
 
 ■ I yesterday took my dear grand-daughter to 
 see Westminster Abbey. She is between seven 
 and eight years of age, and is one of the sweetest 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 11 
 
 angels that ever existed on earth. It was a bit- 
 ter cold morning : on the tomb of Mrs. Warren, 
 who was a mother to poor children, there is a 
 beautiful statue of a poor half-clothed Irish girl, 
 with her little naked baby in her arms ; — my dear 
 little child looked up at me, and, through her 
 tears, earnestly said, 'How I should like to 
 nurse that little baby !' " 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Of the influence of love upon youth and 
 inexperience, it can scarcely be necessary to 
 adduce any instances. I must, however, men- 
 tion one fact which occurred during the rebellion 
 in '45. 
 
 "When I was a young boy, I had delicate health, 
 and was somewhat of a pensive and contemplative 
 turn of mind : it was my delight in the long sum- 
 mer evenings, to slip away from my companions, 
 that I might walk in the shade of a venerable 
 wood, my favourite haunt, and listen to the 
 cawing of the old rooks, who seemed as fond of 
 this retreat as I was. 
 
 " One evening I sat later than usual, though 
 the distant sound of the cathedral clock had more 
 than once warned me to my home. There was 
 a stillness in all nature that I was unwilling to 
 disturb by the least motion. From this reverie 
 
12 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 I was suddenly startled by the sight of a tall 
 slender female who was standing by me, looking 
 sorrowfully and steadily in my face. She was 
 dressed in white, from head to foot, in a fashion 
 I had never seen before ; her garments were un- 
 usually long and flowing, and rustled as she glided 
 through the low shrubs near me as if they were 
 made of the richest silk. My heart beat as if I 
 was dying, and I knew not that I could have 
 stirred from the spot ; but she seemed so very 
 mild and beautiful, I did not attempt it. Her 
 pale brown hair was braided round her head, but 
 there were some locks that strayed upon her 
 neck ; altogether she looked like a lovely pic- 
 ture, but not like a living woman. I closed my 
 eyes forcibly with my hands, and when I looked 
 again she had vanished. 
 
 " I cannot exactly say why I did not on my re- 
 turn speak of this beautiful appearance, nor why, 
 with a strange mixture of hope and fear, I went 
 again and again to the same spot that I might 
 see her. She always came, and often in the 
 storm and plashing rain, that never seemed to 
 touch or to annoy her, looked sweetly at me, and 
 silently passed on ; and though she was so near 
 to me, that once the wind lifted those light 
 straying locks, and I felt them against my cheek, 
 yet I never could move or speak to her. I fell 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 13 
 
 ill ; and when I recovered, my mother closely 
 questioned me of the tall lady, of whom, in the 
 height of my fever, I had so often spoken. 
 
 " I cannot tell you what a weight was taken 
 off my spirits when I learnt that this was no ap- 
 parition, but a most lovely woman ; not young, 
 though she had kept her young looks, — for the 
 grief which had broken her heart seemed to have 
 spared her beauty. 
 
 " When the rebel troops were retreating after 
 their total defeat, a young officer, in that very 
 wood I was so fond of, unable any longer to en- 
 dure the anguish of his wounds, sunk from his 
 horse, and laid himself down to die. He was 
 found there by the daughter of Sir Henry Ro- 
 binson, and conveyed by a trusty domestic to her 
 father's mansion. Sir Henry was a loyalist ; but 
 the officer's desperate condition excited his com- 
 passion, and his many wounds spoke a language 
 a brave man could not misunderstand. Sir 
 Henry's daughter with many tears pleaded for 
 him, and promised that he should be carefully 
 and secretly attended. And well she kept that 
 promise, — for she waited upon him (her mother 
 being long dead) for many weeks, and anxiously 
 watched for the first opening of eyes, that, lan- 
 guid as he was, looked brightly and gratefully 
 
 
14 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 upon his young nurse. You may fancy, better 
 than I can tell you, as he slowly recovered, all 
 the moments that were spent in reading, and 
 low-voiced singing, and gentle playing on the 
 lute ; and how many fresh flowers were brought 
 to one whose wounded limbs would not bear him 
 to gather them for himself; and how calmly the 
 days glided on in the blessedness of returning 
 health, and in that sweet silence so carefully en- 
 joined him. I will pass by this, to speak of one 
 day, which, brighter and pleasanter than others, 
 did not seem more bright or more lovely than 
 the looks of the young maiden, as she gaily spoke 
 of ' a little festival, which (though it must bear 
 an unworthier name) she meant really to give, in 
 honour of her guest's recovery; 1 — 'and it is time, 
 lady, 1 said he, ' for that guest, so tended and so 
 honoured, to tell you his whole story, and speak 
 to you of one who will help him to thank you — 
 may I ask you, fair lady, to write a little note for 
 me, which, even in these times of danger I may 
 find some means to forward I ' To his mother, 
 no doubt, she thought, as with light steps and a 
 lighter heart she seated herself by his couch, and 
 smilingly bade him dictate : but, when he said 
 'MyDearWifeS and lifted up his eyes to be asked 
 for more, he saw before him a pale statue, that 
 

 FEMALE AFFECTION. 15 
 
 gave him one look of utter despair, and fell (for 
 he had no power to help her) heavily at his feet. 
 Those eyes never truly reflected the pure soul 
 again, or answered by answering looks the fond 
 inquiries of her poor old father. She lived to be 
 as I saw her, — sweet, and gentle, and delicate al- 
 ways, but reason returned no more. She visited, 
 'till the day of her death, the spot where she first 
 saw that young soldier, and dressed herself in 
 the very clothes he said so well became her." 
 
 THE WOMAN IN WHITE. 
 
 " In walking through a street in London, I 
 saw a crowd of men women and children hooting 
 and laughing at a woman, who, looking neither to 
 the right-hand nor to the left, passed through the 
 midst of them in perfect silence; upon approaching 
 her, I saw that all this derision was caused by 
 her dress, which, equally unsuited to the weather 
 and her apparent rank in life, was from head to 
 foot entirely white, — her bonnet, her shawl, her 
 very shoes were white ; and though all that she wore 
 seemed of the coarsest materials, her dress was 
 perfectly clean. As I walked past her, I looked 
 stedfastly in her face. She was thin and pale, 
 of a pleasing countenance, and totally unmoved 
 
16 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 
 by the clamour around her. I have since learnt 
 her story : — The young man to whom she was 
 betrothed died on the bridal-day, when she and 
 her companions were dressed to go to church : 
 she lost her senses, — andhas ever since, to use her 
 own words, been ' expecting her bridegroom, 1 
 Neither insult or privation of any kind can induce 
 her to change the colour of her dress ; she is alike 
 insensible of her bereavement by death, or of the 
 lapse of time, — 'she is dressed for the bridal, and 
 the bridegroom is at hand. 1 " 
 
 Such is the nature of Woman's Love — conti- 
 nuing in imagination, when reality is no more : 
 
 " As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid, 
 Who dressed her in her buried lover's clothes, 
 And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain's cleft 
 Hung with her lute, and played the selfsame tune 
 He used to play, and listened to the shadow 
 Herself had made." — Coleridge. 
 
 Such is the tenderness, such the intensity of 
 the love of innocence. It has for ever existed, 
 and will for ever exist, — from Eve, on the first 
 day of her creation, to the many whose hearts at 
 this moment beat with affection and love : 
 " All thoughts, all passions, all desires, 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 All are but ministers of Love, 
 And feed his sacred flame." 
 
WIFE. 
 
 Let us now consider affection where it appears 
 in one of its sweetest forms, — in the love of a wife, 
 — love, in the strength of which, hoping all things, 
 she does not hesitate to quit her father and her 
 mother and all dear to her to share the joys and 
 sorrows of her husband. In prosperity she de- 
 lights in his happiness, in sickness she watches 
 over him, feeling more grief than she shows. 
 
 A young soldier, thus speaks of the affection 
 of his wife : — 
 
 " For five campaigns 
 
 Did my sweet Lucy know 
 Each hardship and each toil 
 
 We soldiers undergo. 
 Nor ever did she murmur, 
 
 Or at her fate repine, 
 She thought not of her sorrow, 
 
 But how to lessen mine : 
 In hunger, or hard marching, 
 
 Whate'er the ill might be, 
 In her I found a friend, 
 
 Who ne'er deserted me : 
 And in my tent when wounded, 
 
 And when I sickening lay, 
 Oft from my brow with trembling hand, 
 
 She wiped the damps away. 
 And when this heart, my Lucy, 
 Shall cease to beat for thee, 
 
 Oh ! cold, clay cold, 
 Full sure this heart must be." 
 
18 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 THE ROBBER. 
 "A friend of mine who had long struggled with 
 a dangerous fever, approached that crisis on which 
 his life depended, when sleep, uninterrupted sleep 
 might ensure his recovery; — his wife, scarcely 
 daring to breathe, sat by him; her servants, worn 
 out by watching, had all left her ; it was past mid- 
 night, — the room door was open for air ; she heard 
 in the silence of the night a window thrown open 
 below stairs, and soon after footsteps approaching; 
 in a short time, a man came into the room — his face 
 was covered with a black crape : she instantly saw 
 her husband's danger; she pointed to him, and, 
 pressing herfinger upon her lip to implore silence, 
 held out to the robber her purse and her keys : 
 to her great surprise he took neither ; he drew 
 back, and left the room, — whether he was 
 alarmed, or struck by this courage of affection 
 cannot now be known ; but, without robbing a 
 house sanctified by such strength of love — he 
 departed." 
 
 SENECA. 
 
 How well did the artist to whom we are in- 
 debted for the celebrated picture of the Death of 
 Seneca, understand this deep feeling of female 
 affection ! It may be said of Seneca, as he said 
 of a friend, " I have applied myself to liberal 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 studies, though both the poverty of my condition, 
 and my own reason might rather have put me 
 upon the making of my fortune. I have given 
 proof, that all minds are capable of goodness ; 
 and I have illustrated the obscurity of my family 
 by the eminency of my virtue. I have preserved 
 my faith in all extremities, and I have ventured 
 my life for it. I have never spoken one word 
 contrary to my conscience, and I have been more 
 solicitous for my friend, than for myself. I never 
 made any base submissions to any man ; and I 
 have never done any thing unworthy of a reso- 
 lute, and of an honest man. My mind is raised 
 so much above all dangers, that I have mastered 
 all hazards ; and I bless myself in the providence 
 which gave me that experiment of my virtue : 
 for it was not fit, methought, that so great a 
 glory should come cheap. Nay, I did not so 
 much as deliberate, whether good faith should 
 suffer for me, or I for it. I stood my ground, 
 without laying violent hands upon myself, to escape 
 the rage of the powerful ; though under Caligula I 
 saw cruelties, to such a degree, that to be killed 
 outright was accounted a mercy, and yet I per- 
 sisted in my honesty, to show, that I was ready 
 to do more than die for it. My mind was never 
 corrupted with gifts ; and when the humour of 
 
20 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 avarice was at the height, I never laid my hand 
 upon any unlawful gain. I have been temperate 
 in my diet ; modest in my discourse ; courteous 
 and affable to my inferiors ; and have ever paid 
 a respect and reverence to my betters." 
 
 Such was the man whom the tyrant murdered. 
 He is represented by the artist, bleeding to 
 death, the punishment to which he was con- 
 demned, — his wife stands by and supports him 
 to his last moment ; such is the affection of a 
 wife. 
 
 DAUGHTER. 
 
 To understand the depth of female affection, 
 as it is manifested in a daughter's love, it is ne- 
 cessary rightly to understand a law of affection 
 to which as much consideration seems not often 
 to be given as its importance demands. 
 
 It is a law, which has been a frequent subject 
 of meditation by observers of the human mind — 
 the law is, that it is the nature of affection to 
 descend, seldom to ascend. 
 
 A few extracts from different authors will 
 explain this law : — 
 
 Du Moulin, in his excellent little volume upon 
 Peace and Content, says, " Of children expect 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 21 
 
 r 
 
 no good, but the satisfaction to have clone them 
 good, and to see them do well for themselves. 
 For in this relation, the nature of beneficence is 
 to descend, seldom to remount" 
 
 So Bishop Taylor, in his Life of Christ, when 
 speaking of mothers who do not nurse their own 
 children, says, " And if love descends more 
 strongly than it ascends, and commonly falls 
 from the parents upon the children in cataracts, 
 and returns back again up to the parents but in 
 small dews, — if the child's affection keeps the 
 same proportions towards such unkind mothers, 
 it will be as little as atoms in the sun, and never 
 expresses itself but when the mother needs it 
 not, — that is, in the sunshine of a clear fortune." 
 
 So Fuller says, in his chapter on Moderation, 
 the silken string that runs through the pearl chain 
 of all the virtues, " yea as love, doth descend, 
 and men doat most on their grand-children." 
 
 The same sentiment, with the reason in which 
 the truth originates, has been noticed by our 
 poets. 
 
 The sweet poet, Barry Cornwall, says, — 
 
 " The love of parents, hath a deep still source, 
 And falleth like a flood upon their child. 
 Sometimes the child is grateful, then his love 
 Comes like the spray returning." 
 
22 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 In Thomson's " Spring," the same sentiment, 
 containing the reason of this provision of nature, 
 is beautifully explained. Having described the 
 bird's nest, and the mother stealing from the 
 barn a straw, 'till " soft and warm the habitation 
 grew" and having described the little birds in 
 their nest, — 
 
 " Oh what passions then, 
 What melting sentiments of kindly care 
 Do the new parents' seize ; away they fly 
 Affectionate, and undesiring hear 
 The most delicious morsel to their young, 
 "Which equally distributed, again 
 The search begins." 
 
 And when the little birds are able to fly, the 
 poet thus proceeds, — 
 
 " But now the feather'd youth their former bounds 
 Ardent, disdain, and weighing oft their wings 
 Demand the free possession of the sky : 
 This one glad office more, and then dissolves 
 Parental love at once, now needless grown, — 
 Unlavish wisdom never works in vain." 
 
 He has expressed the same sentiment in his 
 description of the eagle, — 
 
 " High from the summit of a craggy cliff 
 Hung o'er the deep, 
 The royal eagle draws his vigorous young 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 23 
 
 Strong-pounced, and ardent with paternal fire ; 
 Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own 
 He drives them from his fort, the tow'ring seat 
 For ages, of his empire : which in peace 
 Unstained he holds, while many a league to sea, 
 He wings his course and preys in distant isles." 
 
 Such is the nature of affection in general ; but 
 in a daughter it is so powerful, that it never 
 quits her. 
 
 According to the old adage — 
 
 " My son is my son, 'till he gets him a wife ; 
 My daughter's my daughter, the whole of her life." 
 
 The pious excellent Sir Thomas More, Chan- 
 cellor of England, convinced of the unlawfulness 
 of the King's marriage, resigned the Great Seal, 
 and resolved to pass the remainder of his life 
 amidst the charities of home and the consolations 
 of religion. — Erasmus, speaking of his friend says, 
 " there is not any man living so affectionate to 
 his children ; you would say there was in that 
 place Plato's academy, — I should rather call his 
 house a school or university of Christian religion, 
 for their special care is piety and virtue." Upon 
 his refusal to take the oath of supremacy, he was 
 tried for high treason and condemned to be 
 hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his head to be 
 stuck on a pole on London bridge. He was ex- 
 
24 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 ecuted July 5th, 1 535. His body was begged 
 by his daughter Margaret, and deposited in the 
 church of Chelsea; where a monument, with an 
 inscription written by himself had been erected 
 some time before. She found means also to pro- 
 cure his head, after it had remained upon London 
 bridge fourteen days : this she carefully preserved 
 in a leaden chest, till she conveyed it to Canter- 
 bury, and placed it under a chapel adjoining to 
 St. Dunstan's church in that city ; where, after 
 having survived her father sixteen years, she ac- 
 cording to her desire was buried in the same 
 vault with her father's head in her arms. 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 25 
 
 MOTHER. 
 
 Of the love of a mother it is scarcely possible 
 to give any adequate description. All that can be 
 said of Charity, is most true if it be said of a 
 mother's love, which hopeth, believeth, endureth 
 all things. As the spirit of God brooded over the 
 creation, while it was yet in the womb of the 
 morning, — with such heavenly love does the pure 
 spirit of the mother, cherish her infant yet un- 
 born. With silent and thankful tears, she hears 
 the first sound of its little voice, and straightway 
 forgets all her pain and travail ! When she looks 
 upon it, no matter how homely in the eyes of 
 another, she thinks that the world contains no- 
 thing fairer. Who can number her prayers for 
 her infant, or her fond anticipations of his future 
 advancement I — she remembers that the greatest 
 men have once been helpless children, and trusts 
 that her little helpless child will one day be a 
 great man ; she treasures his first words in her 
 heart, and in all his little sayings discovers seeds 
 of wisdom and goodness ; and if after all, she is 
 
26 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 doomed to find him deformed in limb, or weak in 
 intellect, she dwells upon the sweetness of his 
 disposition, and the strength of his affections, 
 and clings to him with a warmer love, because 
 others think him crippled and unsightly. If her 
 child grows up, in the fear and nurture of God, 
 and is deserving of her love, life has no joy like 
 her joy ; and should all her care prove fruitless, 
 and the misguided youth make her heart sad, 
 and steep her bread in tears, though all desert 
 him she clings to him to the last : in poverty, in 
 sickness, in the punishment of his crimes — she, 
 is there : the fond mother in the loathsome 
 convict-ship, — in the cell of the condemned, — 
 at the foot of the scaffold ! All, all, have deserted 
 him, — save He who died for him, and she who 
 gave him birth. 
 
 Such is the nature, such the constancy of a 
 mother's love. It begins before birth, and con- 
 tinues after death : 
 
 " There are spun 
 Around the heart such tender ties, 
 That our own children, to our eyes, 
 Are dearer than the sun." 
 
 There are four forms in which this love is pe- 
 culiarly conspicuous : when, 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 27 
 
 1st The child is criminal ; 
 
 2nd The child is sick ; 
 
 3rd The child is dying ; 
 
 4th The child is dead. 
 This tenderness of a mother's love when the 
 child is criminal, is beautifully described by 
 Hogarth, in his picture of " Industry and Idle- 
 ness," in that aged woman, who is clinging with 
 the fondness of hope not quite extinguished, to 
 her brutal vice-hardened son, whom she is ac- 
 companying to the ship, which is to bear him 
 away from his native soil, of which he has been 
 adjudged unworthy, — in whose shocking face 
 every trace of the human countenance seems 
 obliterated, and a brute beast to be left instead, 
 shocking and repulsive to all but her who 
 watched over it in its cradle before it was so 
 sadly altered ; and feels it must belong to her 
 while a pulse, by the vindictive laws of his coun- 
 try, shall be suffered to beat in it. 
 
 There is a melancholy instance in the love of 
 a mother for her child, in the Old Bailey Ses- 
 sions Papers, for the year 1732, in the trial of 
 John Waller. It is scarcely possible to con- 
 ceive a more abandoned miscreant than Waller. 
 He was at last detected and sentenced to the 
 
28 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 pillory ; the mob seized him and beat him to 
 death. His dead body was put into a coach and 
 carried to Newgate. The prisoners refused to 
 receive it ; his mother who was in waiting, re- 
 gardless of the infuriated mob, went into the 
 coach, and placing his head in her lap, took away 
 the dead body of her child. 
 
 At this very instant how many mothers are 
 anxiously watching their sick children — unmind- 
 ful of their own fatigue, or food, or rest ! 
 
 In a storm in the Yarmouth Roads a vessel 
 was wrecked, a young woman was seen clinging 
 to a mast, — she was seen raising her child above 
 the highest wave, in a wild and vain attempt to 
 save it. On the next morning she was drifting 
 to the shore, 
 
 " And like a common weed 
 The sea-swell took her hair." 
 
 A fire destroyed a house, in which several 
 lives were lost, among which a woman and 
 her infant perished. On digging out the 
 ruins, the mother was found burnt to death, 
 but on her knees, holding her infant in a pail 
 of water. 
 
 A few days since when walking to my cham- 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 29 
 
 bers, I saw a hearse moving slowly before me. 
 It stopped at the door of a respectable house ; all 
 the windows were closed. A coffin, covered with 
 blue cloth, apparently of a child about fourteen 
 was raised into the hearse. I happened to look 
 up ; I saw one of the shutters slightly opened, 
 and a female looking anxiously. The hearse 
 moved on. As the procession turned the corner 
 of the street, I had the curiosity, not an idle 
 curiosity, to look back ; I saw the same female ; 
 she had partly opened the window. 
 
 " The King took the two sons of Rizpath, 
 and the five sons of Michael whom she brought 
 up, and he delivered them into the hands of 
 the Gibeonites, and they hanged them on the 
 hill before the Lord, and they fell all seven 
 together, and were put to death in the days 
 of harvest, in the first days in the beginning of 
 barley harvest. 
 
 "And Rizpath took sackcloth and spread it for 
 herself upon the rock, from the beginning of har- 
 vest until water dropped upon them out of hea- 
 ven, — and suffered neither the birds of the air 
 to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the 
 field by night. Nor did she cease to watch them, 
 until David, touched by this depth of affection, 
 
30 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 gave them burial with the bones of their forefa- 
 thers." 
 
 So too we see in every picture of the Cruci- 
 fixion, the mother standing with patience and 
 resignation at the foot of the cross : 
 
 " She when Apostles shrank could danger brave, 
 Last at his Cross, and earliest at his Grave." 
 
 OLD MAIDS. 
 
 Such is the influence of female affection upon 
 youth : but to youth it is not confined. It exists 
 at all times of life wherever woman exists. It 
 has been my good fortune to share the friend- 
 ship of many of a very interesting class of 
 persons, I mean old maids. They have their 
 faults, who has not ? But I know well, that most 
 of them abound with kindness; which maybe 
 seen even by the animals by which they are sur- 
 rounded, and by their many misdirected enthu- 
 siasms. 
 
 " The inclination to goodness," says Lord 
 Bacon, " is imprinted deeply in our nature, inso- 
 much that if it issue not towards men, it will 
 take unto other living creatures. 1 ' 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 31 
 
 Harriet Aspin was the youngest of four sis- 
 ters, who in their childhood had all a prospect of 
 passing through life with every advantage that 
 beauty and fortune can bestow. But destiny 
 ordained it otherwise. The extravagance of 
 their father abridged the portion of each, and 
 the little Harriet had the additional affliction of 
 personal calamities. From a fall which her 
 nurse occasioned, and concealed, she contracted 
 a great degree of deformity; and the injuries 
 that her frame had received from accident, were 
 completed in what her countenance suffered 
 from that cruel distemper, by which beauty was 
 so frequently destroyed, before the happy intro- 
 duction of innoculation. Her countenance and 
 person were wretchedly disfigured ; but her 
 mind still possessed the most valuable of men- 
 tal powers, and her heart was embellished by 
 every generous affection. Her friends were 
 many : but she had passed her fortieth year 
 without once hearing the addresses of a single 
 lover ; yet the fancied whisper of this enchant- 
 ing passion often vibrated in her ear ; for, with 
 a solid and brilliant understanding, she was 
 deeply tinctured with this credulous foible. As 
 she advanced towards fifty, finding her income 
 very narrow, and her situation unpleasant, she 
 
32 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 took shelter in the family of her favourite sister, 
 married to a good-natured man of easy fortune, 
 who, though he had several children, very rea- 
 dily allowed his wife to afford an asylum, and ad- 
 minister all the comforts in her power to this un- 
 fortunate relation. 
 
 The good deeds of benevolence rarely pass 
 unrewarded. The obliging temper of Harriet, 
 united to infinite wit and vivacity, contributed 
 to restore the declining health of her sister, and 
 enlivened the house, into which she was so kindly 
 admitted. She endeared herself to every branch 
 of it ; but her second nephew, whose name is 
 Edward, became her principal favourite, and re- 
 turned her partiality with more esteem and affec- 
 tion than nephews are used to feel for an old 
 maiden aunt. Indeed, there was a striking 
 similarity in their characters, for they both pos- 
 sessed a very uncommon portion of wit, with ex- 
 treme generosity and good-nature. Harriet had 
 the most perfect penetration into the foibles of 
 every character but her own, and had the art of 
 treating them with such tender and salutary 
 mirth, that she preserved her nephew from a 
 thousand follies, into which the giddiness of his 
 passions would otherwise have betrayed him; and, 
 when he was really fallen into some juvenile 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. S3 
 
 scrape, she never failed to assist him, both with 
 secret advice, and the private aid of such little 
 sums of money as she always contrived to save 
 from her slender income, for the most generous 
 of purposes. 
 
 It was almost impossible not to love a maiden 
 aunt of so engaging a character ; and Edward, 
 whose affections were naturally ardent, loved her, 
 indeed, most sincerely ; but his penetration dis- 
 covered her foible, and the vivacity of his spirit 
 often tempted him to sport with it. Hitherto, 
 however, he had done so in the most harmless 
 manner ; but a circumstance arose, which fully 
 proved the danger of this ordinary diversion. 
 Edward, being a younger brother, was designed 
 for the profession of physic. He had studied at 
 Edinburgh: and .returning from thence to London, 
 had brought with him a medical friend, who was 
 a native of Savoy, and was preparing to settle as 
 a physician at Turin. In the gaiety of his heart, 
 Edward informed his aunt Harriet, that he had 
 provided her with a husband ; and he enlarged 
 on the excellent qualities of his friend. The 
 Savoyard was extremely polite, and, either attrac- 
 ted by the pleasantry of her conversation, or 
 touched with medical pity for the striking infeli-> 
 city of her distorted frame, he had paid particular 
 
34 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 attention to Miss A spin; for, being yet under 
 fifty, she had not assumed the title of " Mrs." 
 This particular attention was fully sufficient to 
 convince the credulous Harriet, that her nephew 
 was serious ; but she was unluckily confirmed in 
 that illusion, by his saying to her one evening, 
 " Well, my dear aunt, my friend is to leave 
 England on Monday ; consider, on your pillow, 
 whether you will pass the Alps, to settle with 
 him for life, and let me know your decision before 
 the week expires."''' The sportive Edward was 
 very far from supposing, that these idle words 
 could be productive of any fatal event ; for the 
 health of his aunt was such, that he considered 
 his proposal of crossing the Alps full as extra- 
 vagant as if he had proposed to her to settle in 
 the moon : but let youth and vigour remember, 
 that they seldom can form a just estimate of the 
 wishes, the thoughts, and feelings of infirmity ! — 
 Poor Harriet had no sooner retired to her cham- 
 ber, than she entered into a profound debate 
 with a favourite maid, who used to sleep in her 
 room, concerning the dangers of crossing the 
 Alps, and the state of her health. In this debate 
 both her heart and her fancy played the part of 
 very able advocates, and defended a weak cause 
 by an astonishing variety of arguments in its 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 35 
 
 favour. They utterly overpowered her judg- 
 ment ; but they could not bias the sounder 
 sentence of Molly, who was seated on the bench 
 on this occasion. This honest girl, who hap- 
 pened to have a real lover in England, had many 
 motives to dissuade her mistress from an extra- 
 vagant project of settling in a foreign country ; 
 and she uttered as many reasons to poor Harriet 
 against the passage of the Alps, as were urged 
 to the son of Amilcar by his Carthaginian friends, 
 when he first talked of traversing those tremen- 
 dous mountains. The debate was very warm on 
 both sides, and supported through the greatest 
 part of the night. The spirited Harriet was horribly 
 fatigued by the discourse, but utterly unconvinced 
 by the forcible arguments of her opponent. She 
 even believed that the journey would prove a re- 
 medy for her asthmatic complaints ; her desire 
 of a matrimonial establishment was full as effi- 
 cacious as the vinegar of Hannibal, and the Alps 
 melted before it. At the dawn of day she had 
 positively determined to follow the fortunes of 
 the amiable Savoyard. The peace of mind, which 
 this decision produced, afforded her a short 
 slumber ; but on waking, she was very far from 
 being refreshed, and found that her unhappy 
 frame had suffered so much from the agitation 
 
36 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 of her spirit, and the want of her usual sleep, 
 that she was unable to appear at breakfast. 
 This, however, was a circumstance too common 
 to alarm the family ; for though her cheerfulness 
 never forsook her, yet her little portion of 
 strength was frequently exhausted, and her 
 breath often seemed on the very point of de- 
 parting from her diminutive body. Towards 
 noon, her sister entered her chamber, to make a 
 kind enquiry concerning her health. It was a 
 warm day in spring ; yet Harriet, who was ex- 
 tremely chilly, had seated herself in a little low 
 chair, by the side of a large fire. Her feet were 
 strangely twisted together ; and, leaning forward 
 to rest her elbow on her knee, she supported her 
 head on her right hand. To the affectionate 
 questions of her sister she made no reply ; but, 
 starting from her reverie, walked with apparent 
 difficulty across the chamber, and, saying, with a 
 feeble and broken voice, " I can never pass the 
 Alps," sunk down on the side of her bed, — and 
 with one deep sigh, but without any convulsive 
 struggle, expired. Whether the much-injured 
 and defective organs of her life were completely 
 worn out by time, or whether the conflict of 
 different affections, which had harassed her 
 spirit through the night, really shortened her 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 37 
 
 existence, the all-seeing author of it can alone 
 determine. It is certain, however, that her 
 death, and the peculiar circumstances attending 
 it, produced among her relations the most poig- 
 nant affliction. As she died without one con- 
 vulsive motion, her sister could hardly believe 
 her to be dead ; and as this good lady had not 
 attended to the levities of her son Edward, she 
 could not comprehend the last words of Harriet, 
 till her faithful servant gave a full and honest ac- 
 count of the nightly conversation which had passed 
 between herself and her departed mistress. As 
 her nephew, Edward, was my intimate friend, and 
 I well knew his regard for this singular little being, 
 I hastened to him the first moment that I heard 
 she was no more. I found him under the strongest 
 impression of recent grief, and in the midst of that 
 self-accusation so natural to a generous spirit 
 upon such an occasion. I endeavoured to com- 
 fort him, by observing, that death, which ought, 
 perhaps, never to be considered as an evil, might 
 surely be esteemed a blessing to a person, whose 
 unfortunate infirmities of body must undoubtedly 
 have been a source of incessant suffering. " Alas ! 
 my dear friend,"" he replied, " both my heart and 
 my understanding refuse to subscribe to the 
 ideas, by which you so kindly try to console me. 
 
38 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 I allow, indeed, that her frame was unhappy, 
 and her health most delicate ; but who had a 
 keener relish of all the genuine pleasures which 
 belong to a lively and a cultivated mind, and 
 still more, of all those higher delights, which 
 are at once the test and the reward of a bene- 
 volent heart ? It is true, she had her foibles ; but 
 what right had I to sport with them ? — to me 
 they ought to have been particularly sacred ; for 
 she never looked upon mine, but with the most 
 generous indulgence." " Poor Harriet !" he 
 would frequently exclaim, — " Poor aunt Har- 
 riet I 11 I have basely abridged thy very weak, but 
 not unjoyous existence, by the most unthinking 
 barbarity. I will, however, be tender to thy 
 memory ; and I wish that I could warn the 
 world against the dangerous cruelty of jesting 
 with the credulity of every being who may re- 
 semble thee." — Hayley. 
 
 •w 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 39 
 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
 (from a very old translation of boccaccio's falcon.) 
 
 Among the multiplicity of his queint dis- 
 courses I remember he told us, that sometime 
 there lived in Florence a young gentleman 
 named Frederigo, sonne to Signior Phillippo 
 Alberigo, who was held and reputed both for 
 armes and all other actions beseeming a gen- 
 tleman, hardly to have his equal through all 
 Tuscany. 
 
 This Frederigo (as it is no rare matter in 
 yong gentlemen) became enamored of a gentle- 
 woman, named Madam Giana, who was esteemed 
 (in her time) to be the fairest and most gracious 
 lady in all Florence. In which respect, and to 
 reach the height of his desire, he made many 
 sumptuous feasts and banquets, joustes, tilties, 
 tournaments, and all other noble actions of armes, 
 beside sending her infinite rich and costly pre- 
 sents, making spare of nothing, but lashing all 
 out in lauish expence. Notwithstanding, she 
 being no lesse honest then faire, made no reck- 
 oning of whatsoeuer he did for her sake, or the 
 
40 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 least respect of his owne person. So that Fre- 
 derigo spending thus daily more then his meanes 
 and ability could maintaine, and no supplies any- 
 way redounding to him, or his faculties (as very 
 easily they might) diminished in such sort, that 
 he became so poore, as he had nothing left him, 
 but a small poore farme to liue vpon, the silly 
 reuenewes wherof were so meane as scarcely 
 allowed him meat and drink, yet he had a faire 
 hawke or faulcon hardly anywhere to be fellowed, 
 so expeditious and sure she was of flight. His 
 low ebbe and poverty no way quailing his loue 
 to the lady, but rather setting a keener edge 
 thereon : he saw the city life could no longer 
 containe him, where he most coueted to abide, 
 and therefore betook himselfe to his poore coun- 
 trey farme to let his faulcon get him his dinner 
 and supper, patiently supporting his penurious 
 estate without suite or meanes making to one for 
 helpe or relief in any such necessity. 
 
 While thus he continued in this extremity it 
 came to passe, that the husband of Madam 
 Giana fell sicke, and his debility of body being 
 such, as little or no hope of life remained, he 
 made his last will and testament, ordaining 
 thereby that his sonne (already grown to indiffe- 
 rent stature) should be heire to all his lands and 
 
FEMALE AFFECTIONS 41 
 
 riches wherein he abounded very greatly. Next 
 vnto him, if he chanced to die without a lawful 
 heire, he substituted his wife whom most dearely 
 he affected ; and so departed out of this life. 
 Madam Giana being thus left a widow, as com- 
 monly it is the custome of our city dames, during 
 the summer season, she went to a house of her 
 owne in the countrey which was somewhat neare 
 to poore Frederigo's farme, and where he liued 
 in such an honest kind of contented pouerty. 
 
 Hereupon the young gentleman, her sonne, 
 taking great delight in hounds and hawkes, grew 
 into familiarity with poor Frederigo, and hauing 
 seene many faire flights of his faulcon, they 
 pleased him so extraordinarily, that he earnestly 
 desired to enjoy her as his owne : yet durst not 
 moue the motion for her, because he saw how 
 choycely Frederigo esteemed her. Within a 
 short while after, the young gentleman became 
 very sicke, whereat his mother greued exceed- 
 ingly (as having no more but he, and therefore 
 loved him the more entirely) neuer parting from 
 him either night or day, comforting him so kindly 
 as she could, and demanding if he had a desire to 
 anything, willing him to reueale it and assuring 
 him withall that (if it were within compasse of 
 possibility) he should haue it. The youth hear- 
 
42 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 ing how many times she had made him these 
 offers, and with such vehement protestations of 
 performance, at last thus spake : — 
 
 " Mother (quoth he) if you can do so much for 
 me, as that I may haue Frederigo's faulcon, I am 
 perswaded, that my sicknesse will soone cease." 
 The lady hearing this, sate some short while 
 musing to herselfe, and began to consider what 
 she might best doe to compasse her Sonne's desire, 
 for well she knew how long a time Frederigo had 
 most louingly kept it, not suffering it euer to be 
 out of his sight. Moreouer, shee remembered 
 how earnest in affection he had bene to her, neuer 
 thinking himselfe happy but onely when he was 
 in her company, wherefore shee entred into this 
 private consultation with her owne thoughts: 
 " Shall I send, or goe myself in person, to request 
 the faulcon of him, it being the best that euer flew? 
 It is his onely Jewell of delight, and that taken 
 from him, no longer can he wish to liue in this 
 world. How farre then voyde of vnderstanding 
 shall I shew myselfe, to rob a gentleman of his 
 sole felicity hauing no other joy or comfort left 
 him V These and the like considerations wheeled 
 about her troubled braine, onely in tender care 
 and loue for her sonne, perswading herselfe as- 
 suredly that the faulcon were her owne, if she 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 43 
 
 would but request it, yet, not knowing whereon 
 it were best to resolue, shee returned no answer 
 to her sonne, but sat still in her silent medita- 
 tions. At the length, loue to the youth, so pre- 
 vailed with her, that she concluded on his con- 
 tentation, and (come of it what could) shee would 
 not send for it ; but go herselfe in person to re- 
 quest it, and then returne home againe with it : 
 whereupon thus she spake, — " Sonne, comfort 
 thyselfe, and let languishing thoughts no longer 
 offend thee, for here I promise thee that the first 
 thing I doe to-morrow morning, shall bee my iour- 
 ney for the faulcon, and assure thyselfe that I 
 will bring it with me." Whereat the youth was 
 so joyed, that he imagined his sicknesse began 
 instantly a little to leaue him and promised 
 himself speedy recouery. 
 
 Somewhat early the next morning, the lady, in 
 care of her sicke son's health, was up and ready 
 betimes, and taking another gentlewoman with 
 her, onely as a morning recreation, shee walked 
 to Frederigo's poore country farme, knowing 
 that it would not a little glad him to see her. 
 At the time of her arriuall there, he was (by 
 chance) in a silly garden, on the backe of the 
 house, because (as yet) it was no convenient time 
 for flight : but when he heard Madam Giana was 
 
4i FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 come thither and desired to haue some confer- 
 ence with him ; as one almost confounded with 
 admiration, in all haste he ran to her, and saluted 
 her with most humble reuerence. She in all mo- 
 dest and gracious manner requited him with the 
 like salutations, thus speaking to him : " Signior 
 Frederigo, your own best wishes befriend you, I 
 am now come hither to recompence some part of 
 your passed trauailes, which heretofore you pre- 
 tended to suffer for my sake, when your love was 
 more, then did well become you to offer, or my- 
 selfe to accept. And such is the nature of my 
 recompence, that I make myselfe your guest, and 
 mean this day to dine with you, as also this gen- 
 tlewoman, making no doubt of our welcome. 
 Whereto with lowly reverence, thus he replyed : 
 " Madam, I doe not remembre that euer I sus- 
 tained any losse or hindrance by you, but rather 
 much good, as if I was worth any thing it pro- 
 ceeded from your great deseruings, and by the 
 service in which I did stand engaged to you. 
 But my present happinesse can no way be 
 equalled, — deriued from your super-abounding 
 gracious fauour, and more than common course 
 of kindnesse, vouchsafing of your owne liberall 
 nature, — to come and visit so poore a servant. 
 Oh, that I had as much to spend againe, as 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 45 
 
 heretofore riotously I have runne thorow : what 
 a welcome would your poore host bestow vpon 
 you, for gracing this homely house with your 
 divine presence ! " With these words he con- 
 ducted her into his house, and then into his 
 simple garden, where, hauing no convenient com- 
 pany for her, he said, — " Madam, the poverty of 
 this place is such, that it affordeth none fit for 
 your conversation ; this poore woman, wife to an 
 honest husbandman, will attend on you, while I 
 (with some speede) shall make ready dinner." 
 
 Poore Frederigo, although his necessity was 
 extreame, and his greefe great, — remembering 
 his former inordinate expences, a moity whereof 
 would now hauve stood him in some stead ; yet 
 he had a heart as free and forward as euer, not 
 a iotte dejected in his minde, though vtterly 
 overthrowne by fortune. Alas ! how was his 
 good soule afflicted, that he had nothing where- 
 with to honour his lady ! Up and dovvne he 
 runnes, one while this way, then againe another, 
 exclaiming on his disastrous fate, like a man 
 enraged or bereft of his senses ; for he had not 
 one penny of mony, neither pawne or pledge 
 wherewith to procure any. The time hasted on, 
 and he would gladly (though in meane measure) 
 expresse his honourable respect of the lady. To 
 
46 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 begge of any his nature denied it ; and to borrow 
 he could not, because his neighbours were all as 
 needie as himselfe. 
 
 At last, looking round about, and seeing his 
 faulcone on her perch, which he felt to be very 
 plumpe and fat ; Being voyde of all other helpes 
 in his neede, and thinking her to be a fowle 
 meete for so noble a lady to feede on, without 
 any further demurring or delay he pluckt off her 
 neck, and caused the poor woman presently to 
 pull her feathers : which being done, he put her 
 on the spit, and in a short time she was daintily 
 roasted. Himselfe couered the table, set bread 
 and salt on, — and laid the napkins, whereof he 
 had but a few left him. Going then with chear- 
 full lookes into the garden, telling the lady that 
 dinner was ready, and nothing was wanted but 
 her presence ; shee, and the gentlewoman went 
 in, and being seted at the table, not knowing 
 what they fed on, the faulcon was all their foode : 
 and Frederigo not a little ioyfull that his credit 
 was so well saued. When they were risen from 
 the table and had spent some small time in 
 familiar conference, the lady thought it fit to ac- 
 quaint him with the reason of her comming 
 thither ; and therefore (in very kinde manner) 
 thus began : 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 47 
 
 " Frederigo, if you do yet remember your for- 
 mer carriage towards me (as also my many modest 
 and chaste denials) which (perhaps) you thought 
 to sauour of a harsh, cruell, and vn-womanly 
 nature, I make no doubt but you will wonder at 
 my present presumption, when you vnderstand 
 the occasion which expressely mooued me to 
 come hither. But if you were possessed of 
 children, or euer had any, whereby you might 
 comprehend what love in nature is due vnto 
 them : then I durst assure my selfe that you 
 would partly hold me excused. 
 
 " Now in regard, that you neuer had any, and 
 myselfe (for my part) haue but onely one, I 
 stand not exempt from those lawes which are 
 common to other mothers. And being com- 
 pelled to obey the power of those lawes, contrary 
 to mine owne will, and those duties which reason 
 ought to maintaine, I am to request a gift of 
 you, which I am certaine that you doe make 
 most precious account of, as in manly equity you 
 can doe no lesse. For fortune hath bin so ex- 
 treamly adverse to you, that she hath robbed 
 you of all other pleasures, allowing you no com- 
 fort or delight, but only that poore one, which 
 is your faire faulcone. Of which bird, my sonne 
 is become so strangely desirous, as if I doe not 
 
48 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 
 bring it to him at my comming home, I feare so 
 much the extreamity of his sicknesse, as nothing 
 can ensue thereon but the losse of life. Where- 
 fore, I beseech you, not in regard to the love 
 you have borne me, for therby you stande no way 
 obliged, but in your owne true gentle nature 
 (the which hath always declared itselfe ready in 
 you, to do more kinde offices generally than any 
 other gentleman that I know), you will be pleased 
 to giue her me, or at least, let me buy her of 
 you . Which if you doe, I shall freely confesse that 
 onely by your means my Sonne's life is saued, 
 and we both shall for ever remaine engaged to 
 you." 
 
 When Frederigo had heard the ladies request, 
 which was now quite out of his power to graunt, 
 because it had bene her service at dinner, he 
 stood like a man dulled in his sences, the teares 
 trickling amain downe his cheekes, and he not 
 able to vtter one word. Which she perceiving 
 began to conjecture immediately, that these 
 tears and passions proceeded rather from greefe 
 of minde, as being leather to part with his faul- 
 cone then any other kinde of manner, which 
 made her ready to say that she would not haue 
 it. Neuerthelesss she did not speake but rather 
 tarried to attend his answer ; which, after some 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 49 
 
 small respite and pause, he returned in this 
 manner : 
 
 " Madam, since the houre when first my affec- 
 tion became soly deuoted to your seruice, for- 
 tune hath bene crosse and contrary to me in 
 many occasions, as iustly, and in good reason I 
 may complaine of her : yet all seemed light and 
 easie to be indured in comparison of her present 
 malicious contradiction, to my vtter ouerthrow, 
 and perpetual mollestation. Considering that 
 you are come hither to my poore house, which 
 (while I was rich and able) you would not so 
 much as vouchsafe to looke on ; and now you 
 haue requested a small matter of me wherein she 
 hath also crookedly thwarted me, because she 
 hath disabled me in bestowing so mean a gift, as 
 your selfe will confesse when it shall be related 
 to you in a few words. 
 
 u ' So soone as I heard that it was your pleasure 
 to dine with me, hauing regard to your excellency, 
 and what (by merit) is justly due vnto you, I 
 thought it a part of my bounden duty to enter- 
 taine you with such exquisite viands as my poore 
 power could any way compasse, and farre beyond 
 respect or welcome to other common and ordinary 
 persons. Whereupon remembering my faulcone, 
 which now you aske for, and her goodnesse excel- 
 
 K 
 
50 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 ling all other of her kinde, I supposed that she 
 would make a dainty dish for your dyet ; and, hau- 
 ing drest her so well as I could deuise to do, you 
 haue fed heartily on her, and I am proud that I 
 haue so well bestowne her. But perceiuing now 
 that you would haue her for your sicke sonne, it 
 is no mean affliction to me that I am disabled of 
 yeelding you contentment which all my lifetime 
 I haue desired to doe." 
 
 To approve his words, the feathers, feete and 
 beake were brought in ; and when she saw this, 
 she greatly blamed him for killing so rare a 
 faulcone, to content the appetite of any woman 
 whatsoeuer. Yet she commended his height of 
 spirit which poverty had no power to abase. 
 Lastly, her hopes being frustrate, for enjoying 
 the faulcone, and fearing besides the health of her 
 sonne, she thanked Frederigo for his honorable 
 kindnesse, returning home againe sad and me- 
 lancholly. Shortly after, her sonne, either gree- 
 uing that he could not hauve the faulcone, or by 
 extreamity of his disease, chanced to die, leauing 
 his mother a most woeful lady. 
 
 After so much time was expired, as conveni- 
 ently might agree with sorrow and mourning, 
 her brethren made many motions to her to joyne 
 herself in marriage againe, because she was ex- 
 
FEMALE AFFECTION. 51 
 
 traordinarily rich and as yet but yong in years. 
 Now, although she was well contented neuer to 
 be married any more, yet, being continually im- 
 portuned by them, and remembring the honour- 
 able honesty of Frederigo, — his last poore, yet 
 magnificent dinner, in killing his faulcone for her 
 sake, — she saide to her brethren : " This kinde of 
 widdowed estate doth like me so well, as willingly 
 I would neuer leave it : but seeing you are so 
 earnest for my second marriage, let me plainly 
 tell you, that I will neuer accept of any other 
 husband but onely Frederigo di Alberino.' 
 
.-,•> 
 
 FEMALE AFFECTION. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Such are facts, from which the nature and 
 strength and delicacy of affection may be seen. 
 
 Dear, dear Woman ! — Let me, — indebted as I 
 am to your tenderness and love for every blessing 
 of my life, — let me say, in the words of the sweet 
 Northern poet : 
 
 " Long since, this world's thorny ways 
 Had numbered out my weary days, 
 Had it not been for you." 
 
 William Stevens, Printer, Hell Yard, Temple Bar. 
 
'; 
 
 
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