REC OLLEOCTI ONS
OF
SEVENTY YEARS
By
Mrs. John  Farrar
Boston
Tioknor and Fields
1865








PREFACE.
IT has often been proposed to me to write the
history of my life, by friends who have listened with pleasure to many narratives connected
with it; but I have not been convinced that the
strictly personal part of my history has anything
in it worth laying before the public.
Conscious, however, of having been acquainted
with many remarkable characters, and holding
in my memory not a few unwritten romances, I
have consented to put on paper some of those
past experiences, hoping that the Recollections
of Seventy Years of varied life may have the
same interest for my readers that my oral narratives have had for my auditors;
Mine are "plain, unvarnished tales," never
exaggerated, never embellished. Every anecdote




Vi                PREFACE.
depends for its value on its perfect truth; and as
most of them belong to my life in the Old World,
and to persons who are no longer living, I trust
that no one's feelings will be hurt by my disclosures. I have in a few instances suppressed
names, or given fictitious ones.




CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION.........   1
CHAPTER
I. RESIDENCE. SIEGE OF DUNKIRK.- FRENCH REVOLUTION. - DITENUS..              7
II. ROBESPIERRE.- DEPARTURE FOR ENGLAND. -ABBE
GREGOIRE.....                   17
III. MRS. BARBAULD. -MR. AND MRS. OPIE. -BENJAMIN WEST.- GEORGE THE THIRD. - MRS.
KNOWLES..... 23
IV. ELIZABETH FRY.......    33
V. MILFORD HAVEN. -FRENCH SPY.- FRENCH AT
FISHGUARD....... 38
VI. LADY HAMILTON. - LORD NELSON. - CASTLE HALL
AND ITS COIPANY.                       47
VII. HERBERT FAMILY. - SAILOR-BOY.- WANDERING
GIRL. - ORLEANS FAMILY..... 66
VIII. CRABBE. - BUXTON. -JOANNA BAILLIE..  67
IX. LADY MACWORTH....... 76
X. PRINCESS CARABOO.                        83
XI. THE ENGLISH STAGE.- MRS. JORDAN.. 92
XII. BATH.-BEAU NASH. — THE B-   FAMILY.    97
XIII. IRELAND. - SIR HARRY BROWN HAYES. - BRENAN 107
XIV. MISS EDGEWORTH...... 118
XV. ANDRIANE...                  128
XVI. THE FRENCH STAGE.. 133
XVII. MR. AND MRS. THOMAS HOPE....   140




Viii                CONTENTS.
XVIII. THE MISSES ALLEN.- MRS. SISMONDI. - THE
YOUNG WIDOW... 146
XIX. LADY MANSFIELD.- CHILDREN IN A CAVE. - THE
HAUNTED HOUSE....         153
XX. MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE..          163
XXI. UNHAPPY MARRIAGES..                 171
XXII. GREENWICH OBSERVATORY. - MRS. SOMERVILLE.
- DR. ROBINSON. - OBSERVATORY AT ARMAGH 184
XXIII. A REMARKABLE WOMAN.. 195
XXIV. PRINCESS CHARLOTTE..               202
XXV. HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT..... 219
XXVI. A CONVERTED JEW....   231
XXVII. EDINBURGH...                     236
XXVIII. SALT MINES...                241
XXIX. NOVELLO FAMILY..                  248
XXX. VOYAGES...                          255
XXXI. SWITZERLAND.                      265
XXXII. A TRAVELLING COMPANION..       273
XXXIII. WEARINESS OF ETIQUETTE... 278
XXXIV. THE MAID OF HONOR. -THE ORPHANS. - THE
GENERAL'S LADY.                    283
XXXV. PARENTAL AUTHORITY..                291
XXXVI. THE VILLAGE APOTHECARY.             295
XXXVII. THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.   298
XXXVIII. LUNATIC ASYLUMS.... 306
XXXIX. COURTS OF LAW....       14
XL. MISS DELIA BACON....   319




INTRODUCTION.
N order to give some coherence to my various
narratives, it seems necessary to describe
their whereabouts, and my connection with them.
As my earliest recollections date back to the
time when my parents and grand-parents were
residing in Dunkirk, during the latter part of
the reign of Louis XVI., I will begin with giving
a short account of my grandfather's establishing
the whale-fishery in France.
William Rotch was a native of Nantucket, and
a member of the Society of Friends. Most of the
inhabitants of that island were of that sect, and,
professing peace principles, they endeavored to
preserve a strict neutrality during the Revolutionary War. The consequence of this was, that
they were made the prey of both parties, and my
grandfather was often deputed to carry their
grievances before the Provisional Government of
the Colony, and also to the head-quarters of the
British commanders. This was a service of great
danger, and his life was often in jeopardy;
but his courage and presence of mind were al1                       A




2              INTRODUCTION.
ways equal to the occasion, and he saved the
island from utter devastation, though not from
heavy losses of property. Two hundred vessels
were captured by the English, and he lost to the
amount of sixty thousand dollars. In one night
the boats of a man-of-war, commanded by midshipmen, landed their crews on Nantucket, and
burnt ten thousand dollars' worth of oil for my
grandfather, besides destroying the property of
others.
At the close of the war, when peace and independence had been conquered, the inhabitants of
Nantucket found themselves in a ruinous condition; their commerce and their fishery were destroyed, and many left the island to seek their
fortunes on the mainland; others preferred to
continue in the whale-fishery if they could find a
place where it could be pursued to advantage.
Before the separation from the mother country,
they had there found a market for all the oil
they could catch; but the duty was now made so
heavy, that it would not pay to send oil to England. The distresses of these once prosperous
islanders determined my grandfather to go to
England, and endeavor to interest that government in their condition, as Quakers, who from
peace principles had never taken up arms against
the mother country, and who would be willing to
emigrate to England, and carry on from there




INTRODUCTION.             3
the whale-fishery, provided they were aided by
British money, and allowed to bring with them,
free of duty, their oil and their ships. Deeply
interested in this enterprise, he embarked for
England on board a vessel of his own, named the
Maria, and I have often heard the old gentleman
tell with pride and pleasure, that she was the first
ship that ever unfurled the flag of the United
States in the Thames.
William Rotch was a very handsome man,
tall and erect, dressed in a whole suit of light
drab broadcloth, with knee-breeches, shoes, and
buckles; his head was a little bald, with flowing
white locks, while still in the prime of life. His
appearance commanded respect, and his manners
were as polite as Quaker sincerity would permit.
Arrived in London, he soon made his way to the
presence of the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
Mr. Pitt, who listened patiently to his account
of the disasters which had befallen his native
island, in consequence of the war and the peace
principles of its inhabitants. When he urged
their claims on the British government, Mr.
Pitt said, " Undoubtedly you are right, sir; what
can we do for you? "  Mr. Rotch then told him
that a number of families were willing to remove
to England and to carry on the whale-fishery,
if sufficiently aided and encouraged to do so.
Here the conversation ended, and the subject




4              INTRODUCTION.
was laid before the Privy Council. The secretary, Mr. Cotterel, sent a note to my grandfather,
saying, the Council would sit on an early day,
when they would hear what he had to offer. He
waited a whole month for that " early day," and
then applied to the secretary to know the reason
of the delay. He pleaded their having so much
business before them that they had not been able
to attend to his; and with this excuse, they kept
the American Quaker waiting four months. Then
he requested to have a person appointed to confer with him.  Unhappily, Lord Hawkesbury
was the man fixed upon, and a greater enemy of
the United States could not have been found.
After several unsatisfactory and very disagreeable
interviews, Mr. Rotch refused all further negotiation, and told him that he should carry his
proposals to France.
Lord Hawkesbury did not relish the idea of
France having the benefit of such a nursery for
seamen as the whale-fishery would give them, and
he tried hard to bend the Quaker to his purpose,
but in vain. He and his son left London immediately, and proceeded in the Maria to Dunkirk,
whence they sent their proposals to the French
government, and were summoned to appear in
Paris. There they were treated with marked
attention, and whilst their peculiarities of dress,
speech, and manners excited wonder and curi



INTRODUCTION.              5
osity, their scruples were always respected.
Every privilege which they asked for was freely
granted, so important was it considered to have
the whale-fishery established in France.
The Nantucketers settled in Dunkirk were to
have the right to bring over their ships loaded
with oil, the ships to be registered as French vessels, and the oil to be admitted duty free. All
the officers to be employed on board of whalers
were to be Americans, and bounties were to be
given by the government for every full cargo
brought home. In return for these privileges,
each vessel was to have on board a certain number of young landsmen bound as apprentices to
the owner, and these were to be made good seamen.
That once flourishing town of Dunkirk had lost
its commerce, and grass was growing in its once
busy streets; but it appeared to my grandfather
very eligible for his purposes, and so it proved.
He returned home with his son, to make the necessary preparations for his grand undertaking.
My father's chief preparation was getting married,
and as it required much time then to build vessels and catch oil enough to fill them, he became
a householder, and a father, before he went to
France to live.
When he did set sail for Dunkirk with his
wife, he was obliged, by. her extreme sea-sickness,




6               INTRODUCTION.
to put back, after being out ten days. It seemed
necessary, to save her life, and he was obliged to
proceed alone on his important enterprise, and, as
the partner of his father and brothers, he established the whale-fishery in France.




RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER I.
RESIDENCE. - SIEGE OF DUNKIRK. - FRENCH REVOLUTION.- DETENUS.
W;7~t HEN at last my father was established in
Dunkirk, the outfit of his whaling ships
was the revival of trade in that town, and the inhabitants welcomed the strangers who brought
them wealth and prosperity. As the crews and
the officers of the whaling ships were from Nantucket, and some of these had their families with
them, there was a large number of Americans in
Dunkirk. Many English also were attracted
thither by the brisk business created by. the
fishery.
After a separation of two years, my mother
resolved, even at the risk of her life, to join her
husband in Dunkirk, and his parents and sisters
went with her, all strict Quakers, and objects of
curiosity to the French, who saw for the first
time the peculiarities of that sect, and could not
understand either their faith or their scruples.




8      RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
The residence in a French town of such an
exemplary family of Friends, was hailed by the
English Quakers as affording an excellent opportunity for promulgating their doctrines, and a
succession of preachers came over to Dunkirk
for that purpose, and always stayed at our house.
As they spake no French, my father used to act
as their interpreter, but once, when he could
not attend, a person was employed in his stead.
The preacher began his discourse with these
words, " Job was an upright man "; and they
were rendered into a French expression equivalent to " Job was a tall, gentlemanly man," and
the rest of the sermon was, probably, no nearer
than that to the real meaning.
The peace principles of the Quakers will not
allow of any demonstration of pleasure at a victory won by force of arms, in any cause, and
when the whole town was in a ferment of joy for
the success of the French arms, and was making
great preparations for a general illumination,
these conscientious Quakers refused to illuminate. The Mayor of Dunkirk was a good friend
of my father, and urged him to do it as a mere
act of self-preservation, " for," said he, " the
people will be so exasperated by your not illuminating, that they will commit some outrageous
act of violence, from  which I cannot protect
you." Fully aware of the danger they would in



RESIDENCE.               9
cur, both father and son were resolved, in spite
of all the remonstrances of their friends, not to
illuminate; they would maintain their principles
at all hazards.
When their neighbors were lighting up their
houses, they shut their shutters, locked and
barred their doors, and retired to a back parlor,
to await their fate. It was a very solemn time
for them all, and was spent in silent prayer. At
the end of an hour, the door-bell rang, and my
father chose to answer it, though he expected,
on opening it, to be assailed by an angry mob.
Instead of this, a friend entered, exclaiming, " I
am glad to see that you have illuminated after
all."  " But I have not done it."  " Yes, your
house is illuminated, and very prettily done too."
In utter amazement my father went into the
street, and saw a large frame-work of wood covered with lights, and put up against the front of
the house. This was the work of the Mayor to
save the good Quakers from destruction.
Though the French could not comprehend the
principles of these strange people, they honored
them for their adherence to them, and always
bore kindly with their peculiarities. Even when
the town of Dunkirk was besieged by the English, and all citizens who could bear arms turned
out to defend their homes from the invader,
my father was excused from the duty of a sol1*




10     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
dier, and appointed commander of the fire department, a post of danger which he solicited.
The firing of hot shot sometimes produced a conflagration, and that spot became the point toward
which the enemy directed their guns. It was,
of course, a dangerous place t6 those engaged in
extinguishing the fire. My father thus proved
that it was not cowardice that prevented his taking up arms.
I will now describe that siege of Dunkirk, as I
have heard my father relate it.
One of the numerous acts of the British government to destroy the Revolutionary power in
France, was sending a large force, under the
command of the Duke of York, son of George
III., to besiege and take the city of Dunkirk.
He sat down before the town in the most approved manner of those times., The wide plain
beyond the city was covered with the tents of
the English army, while rows of cannon and
mortars seemed to threaten the ancient walls of
Dunkirk with certain destruction. The peaceful
inhabitants were much alarmed, and every citizen capable of bearing arms was enrolled as a
soldier; for there was no military force there,
and the English might have marched into the
town and taken it at once; but not knowing its
defenceless state, they began to bombard it with
hot and cold shot. Orders were given by the




SIEGE OF DUNKIRK.           11
Mayor that there should be in every room of
every house a pail of water and a pair of
tongs, to pick up and quench the hot shot; also,
every closet door must stand open, and all the
women and children were advised to leave the
town. All those who could afford it went off to
Calais and put up at Dessein's famous hotel.
They rushed off in such haste as to be very ill
provided with clothes, and some days after that,
when my mother and her children arrived with
ample wardrobes, her clothes were borrowed by
all her friends, and as she wore the Quaker costume, she was amused to see her plain garments
on gay, fashionable Frenchwomen.
A courier arrived daily from Dunkirk and proclaimed, from the steps of the Town Hall, the
progress of the siege. All the fugitive ladies
would run out, without bonnet or shawl, and
stand around him to hear the news.     There
came letters from their husbands written without
any regard to truth, merely to suit the wishes of
the writer. If a man had a very timid wife, and
was fearful she would fly farther, he would tell
her that the town was very quiet, and he was in
no danger. If a husband was afraid his wife
would return inopportunely, he would write that
the enemy was at the gates of the city, half of its
inhabitants were killed, and tle streets ran blood.
These ladies, living together, naturally compared




12    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the accounts they received, and finding them so
very contradictory, they knew not what to believe; some were very angry, and all were much
annoyed. At last one of them said, let us ask
Madame Rotch what her husband writes, for the
Quakers do not lie. They did so, heard the
truth, and ever after relied on her letters for
their news of the siege.
A force sufficient to defend the town was soon
sent to Dunkirk, and some little fighting took
place without the walls, but the cannonading of
the town did little damage. The merchants used
to dine round at each other's houses, eat up all
their wives' preserves and other good things, and
have a jolly time of it. One morning the cannonading did not begin as early as usual, and, on
looking through their telescopes, the men on the
ramparts could see no movement in the British
camp. At last the truth dawned on them, that
the English had run away in the night. A visit
to the camp showed with what haste they had departed. In the Duke of York's tent were found
his watch and all his dressing equipage. This
extraordinary retreat excited the utmost contempt of the French, and the indignation of the
English people. The Duke of York was deprived of his command, and it was several years
before he was again employed.
I have hitherto related only what I remem



FRENCH REVOLUTION.          13
ber to have heard from others; but now I come
to a period when I can remember what I saw
myself, and it is not wonderful that, living in
the midst of a bloody revolution, my earliest
recollection should be the sight of the guillotine,
erected in the great square of the town of Dunkirk. Sent out to walk before breakfast, with
my nurse, we happened to see it just arrived,
and in the process of erection. On my return
home I told my mother of it, with childish glee,
and was astonished at the horror with which she
heard my account.
At this time the Revolutionary government decreed that all the British subjects then in France
should be imprisoned, and my nurse, being an
Englishwoman, was shut up in a nunnery, used
as a prison, after the nuns had been liberated.
It was in vain to tell her that her life was not in
danger; she was extremely frightened, and to
calm her fears and make her imprisonment less
tedious, my mother sent me every morning to
pass several hours with her; so visits to a nun's
cell are among my earliest recollections. My
mother valued relics so much, that she sent a
good chair of her own to be exchanged for the
shabby old one of the cell occupied by my nurse,
and I have that nun's chair now.
After the imprisonment of the English in
France, two American ladies were walking on




14    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the ramparts of Dunkirk and conversing together. A sentinel said to his comrade, " All
the English are not in prison; shall we arrest
those? "  On hearing this, one of the speakers
said to the soldier,' We are Americans, and we
speak the American language."  Both the men
applauded them, for the French loved America in
those days.
Another instance of female courage occurs to
my mind as happening in that same town of Dunkirk. Mrs. R., an American lady, was conversing with a gentleman who had some care of her
during the absence of her husband in Paris. It
was after nine o'clock, and he was preparing to
go home, when a servant stole quietly into the
room, and whispered to her mistress, that the
man-servant had brought two armed men into
the house; they were now in his room, and she
had no doubt that they would rob the house and
murder the family. Mrs. R. tried to allay her
fears, by saying those men were probably friends
of Joseph, and were merely paying him a visit,
and she desired the girl to keep quiet in the
kitchen and she would send the soldiers away.
Her friend Captain M. offered to speak to the
men for her, but she thought it best to try first
if she could manage them, and keep the Captain
for a reserve force; so she went to the foot of the
stairs, leading up from the kitchen to the man's




DETENUS.               15
room, and said, "Joseph, it is time for your
friends to go home, and for you to shut up the
house and go to bed; send them away directly."
Joseph made no reply, and she returned to the
parlor to wait the effect of her commands. They
availed nothing, so she went again, in spite of
Captain M's. remonstrance and wish to go himself. Her objection to his going was, that it
would appear as if she was alarmed, and she
meant that her authority, as mistress of the
house, should prevail.
She told Joseph those men must come down
and leave her house directly, and added, " If
they do not move at once, I will come up to
them."   One would suppose that armed men
would laugh at such a vain threat, but so far
from it, they obeyed at once. To get out of the
house they had to pass by the open parlor door,
and Mrs. R. placed herself so as to see them pass
through an entry in which stood a rocking-horse
with a child's hat hung on his head. One of the
men seized the hat and was carrying it off, when
she called to him to let that hat alone, and he
threw it back into the entry. "Well done!"
said the Captain, " you are a brave woman. I
should have let him carry off the hat."
Among the English detenus, as they were
called, was the author. and poet, Helen Maria
Williams, well known in this country as the




16     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
writer of that beautiful hymn, beginning, " While
Thee I seek, protecting Power." She was acquainted with my father, and hearing that he was
in Paris, when she was imprisoned, she sent for
him, and begged him, as an American, to claim
her as his wife and so procure her liberty. The
truthful Quaker was not so corrupted by his residence in France, as to be willing to make this
false claim; he was, however, induced by her
eloquent pleading, to promise not to deny what
she might say on the subject, unless directly
questioned.  She succeeded in obtaining her
liberty and fled to England. The apparent indifference of the supposed husband threw no discredit on her pretended relation to him.




17
ROBESPIERRE. - DEPARTURE FOR ENGLAND.- ABB,
GREGOIRE.
HAVE so often heard my father describe
Robespierre that I feel as I had myself seen
that mean-looking, little man, with his ruffles,
and his hair elaborately dressed. As it was considered, in those days, that to be well dressed was
anti-republican, his elaborate toilet was the more
remarkable. My father narrowly escaped with
his life, after an interview with this worst of
tyrants. He was deputed by the American merchants of Dunkirk, who were suffering under an
act of embargo, to take up a petition for its removal from vessels belonging to so friendly a
power as the United States. He was to read the
petition at the bar of the National Convention;
a body of men who were supposed to represent
the will of the people, but were, at that time, entirely subservient to the will of one man, and
that man Robespierre.  He allowed the House
to appoint only one committee, called the Committee of Public Safety; to that all important
cases were referred, and there Eobespierre ruled
B




18     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
every decision..Over the door of the committeeroom was written, "Engrossed by the affairs of
the nation, we have no time to consider private
claims."
My father was told that he must read his petition to Robespierre, before he attempted to read
it in the National Convention; so he sought an
interview with that dangerous man at his own
residence.  He was shown through a suite of
shabby rooms, where the family were employed
in household work, to a long, unfurnished hall,
where he found half a dozen gentlemen waiting
to see the despot. There was not a seat in the
room, until a door opened and Robespierre entered, in his dressing-gown, followed by his hairdresser, who carried a chair in his hand for his
master to sit on whilst he was powdered. When
powder was generally worn, it was the custom to
put it on, in some small room or closet devoted
to the purpose, and to powder in the presence of
another person was considered an insult. That
Robespierre should come into his audience-chamber to perform that part of his toilet was a piece
of arrogance and rudeness never to be forgotten.
The hair-dresser applied the powder-puff until
there was a cloud of powder all around him, and
of course the dark coats, in waiting, were none
the better for it. When the hair-dresser retired,
he carried off the chair with him, and Robe



ROBESPIERRE.             19
spierre went up to a mirror and adjusted every
hair around his face. He then exchanged his
dressing-gown for a coat which his valet brought,
and assisted him to put on. That done, he
turned to the knot of gentlemen who were standing at one end of the room, and said he was ready
to hear what they had to say. Those who spoke before my father did were very summarily disposed
of with negative answers. Then he produced
his petition, and asked Robespierre to read it.
He did so, and returned it, saying, " That petition
cannot be presented to the National Convention,
for it contains views to change the government.".
Such words from such a man were equivalent to
a sentence of death. My father knew it, and
perceived at once what was the objectionable
part. The merchants asked for a committee to
be appointed to examine the claims of American
ship-owners, and Robespierre had abolished all
committees but the one of which he was the moving power. With wonderful presence of mind
my father took out his pencil, struck out that request and showed the paper to Robespierre, who,
on seeing the alteration, said that might be read
the next day at the bar of the National Convention. As my father left the hall, a friend who
had accompanied him there, said, "We are a
head shorter for this."  " Never mind," was the
reply, " we shall go in good company."




20     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
While my father was reading the petition,
Robespierre entered one of the galleries, and as
soon as it was ended, he moved that it should
be referred to the Committee of Public Safety.
This quashed it at once, but the reader's life
was saved.
Not until after the fall of Robespierre, was myfather permitted to leave France; then he embarked with his whole family and all his valuables on board one of his own vessels, and sailed
for America. He was aware that a number of
persons had secreted themselves on board his
ship, in order to escape from France, and as two
custom-house officers accompanied the vessel
down the harbor, my father was afraid they
would discover the fugitives. To prevent this
he provided a handsome lunch and plenty of
good wine, of which they partook so largely that
they forgot to examine the vessel, and left her in
high good humor.
Instead of proceeding to the United States, we
landed in England, and our arrival was impressed
on my memory by my being checked in singing
the following words:"Le Duc de York est un poltron,
Vive le son, vive le son."
I was told that I was now in the country of the
Duke, and must never sing that again. This




ABBt GREGOIRE.            21
was unnecessary caution; but we had come from
a land where every word must be guarded, lest
life should be the forfeit, and it was difficult for
us to realize that there was liberty of speech in
England.
A suit in chancery to recover the insurance on
a vessel burnt at sea, was what took my father to
England, and its long duration caused him to
settle in that country.
The Abb6 Gregoire lived in the time of the
first French Revolution.  He was a republican in his principles, but a lover of law and
order. He was made a Bishop in the Roman
Church, but was very liberal in his opinions.
My father was on intimate terms with him, and
ventured to ask him whether he believed in all
the ceremonies of his Church; he said he did
not, but added, " We must make religion thick
enough for the people to feel it, or it will slip
through their fingers."
A better saying of his was one that saved his
life. Paris in those days was lighted by glass
lanterns called reverberes, suspended by ropes over
the centre of the street, and the mob were often
pleased to use that arrangement for hanging any
one obnoxious to them. At one time, every welldressed man was in danger of this summary punishment, and the Abb6 Grdgoire being one day too
neat- and clean to suit the taste of a mob of ruf



22     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
fians, they called him an aristocrat, and cried out,
A la anterne! They would have hanged him on
the spot, if he had not saved his life by this impromptu jeu d'esprit: -
Croyez vous voir plus clalr,
Quand je prends la place du reverbere."
The mob applauded him, and he passed on in
safety. Courage and presence of mind were
much needed in those times.
I remember hearing my father say that he was
in Paris when the Queen was beheaded, and that
he dared not go out of his hotel before the execution, for fear of seeing some part of it; nor
after it was over, for fear his countenance should
betray his horror of the deed, and cause his arrest as a loyalist. It happened to my father, more
than once, to be engaged to dine with a friend,
and when he went to the house, to be told by the
servant that his master had been taken the night
before to the Conciergerie. Few ever left that
prison but to go to execution. It was considered
as the next step to the guillotine.




MRS. BARBAULD.           23
CHAPTER       III.
MRS. BARBAULD. - MR. AND MRS. OPIE. - BENJAMIN
WEST.   GEORGE THE THIRD. — MRS. KNOWLES.
UICKENS has shown us the great influence
which a chancery suit may exert over the
lives and characters of all concerned in it. My
father's suit continued so many years, that it
broke up all his plans of returning to his native
land, and planted him for life in England with
all the privileges of a British subject. We resided for a time at Islington, a suburb of London,
and there my mother made the acquaintance of
Mrs. Barbauld, who was then writing for the
benefit of her little nephew, Charles Aikin, those
hymns and lessons which have since delighted
so many children, both in the Old and the New
World. Melancholy, however, were the consequences of her devotion to that bright little boy.
His brain was overtaxed, and the precocious child
became an idiot before he reached maturity.
I remember sitting on Mrs. Barbauld's lap and
her asking me if I could read, and what book I
was then reading; I answered, " Barbauld's Lessons," quite unconscious that I was sitting in




24     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the lap of their author. She then said, " I suppose you study geography, and can tell me what
ocean is between England and America." I
said, " The Atlantic," which I knew from hearing
my mother speak of her relations as being on the
other side of the Atlantic, not from any study of
geography; and fearing I might not be able to
answer another question, I hurried away from
her.
I often met her after I was grown up, and remember her as a sweet-looking, lively old lady,
wearing her gray hair, which was then very uncommon, and reading aloud to a circle of young
people, on a rainy morning in the country. She
read well; the book was " Guy Mannering," then
just published. When she had given us the description of Meg Merrilies, she asked us all to
draw the Gypsy as we imagined her, and very
different were the sketches we made. My sister's
was the best, but the kind old lady took possession of them all as valuable to her.
Mrs. Opie, another author and poet, as different as possible from Mrs. Barbauld, was an acquaintance of my mother. Ier novels were at
this time very popular, and her husband was
equally famous as an historical painter.  He
had many admirers, but his works were not of a
high order.,` He made all his male faces with
large, ugly noes, so that one could always know




MRS. OPIE.             25
his pictures by that feature. My mother had
such an instinctive appreciation of painting, that
Mr. West made a point of going with her to the
annual exhibition of the works of living artists,
that he might hear her natural remarks on the
principal pictures. She criticised all Opie's so
severely that Mr. West feared she might be overheard by him and hastened to tell her whose they
were. Mr. West's pictures did not wholly escape
her criticism, but she generally knew beforehand
which were his.
When Mrs. Opie became a gay widow, we often
met her at the house of a mutual friend, where
her eccentric conduct amused some, and disgusted others. I have seen her astonish a grave
circle of elderly people by jumping up and dancing a shawl-dance then in vogue on the stage,
flourishing away to a tune of her own singing,
apparently unconscious of the effect she was producing.  She used to carry about with her in all
her visits a pretty little stringed instrument, in
the classic form of a lyre, and sing her own songs,
with great expression, to that accompaniment.
She said she could always find out the secrets
of a young girl's heart, if she could sing to her
alone.  She tried her experiment on me and
proved right.
Mrs. Opie was fair, with delicate features and
a form of symmetrical beauty. Thewell-formed
2




26     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
hands and arms were always on exhibition, and
short and scanty skirts disclosed the prettiest feet
and ankles. Her talents and accomplishments,
her novels, her poetry, and her singing, made her,
for a time- a favorite with the fashionables of
London, and she highly enjoyed her popularity;
but it did not last long, and when it failed, she
took refuge from the gay world in a circle of
wealthy and highly cultivated Quakers. The
Gurneys, Barclays, Hoares, Woods, and Frys,
were her intimate friends, and after several
years passed among them, she joined the Society
of Friends and adopted their dress and language.
I saw her once after her metamorphosis, and
could but remark the discrepancy between her
costume and her manners, which still savored
of the wicked world. The pretty foot was still
seen, though the dress was long and ample, and
the glove was unnecessarily taken off to show the
beautiful hand. Amelia Opie was not changed,
only acting a new part.
I have already mentioned Benjamin West. He
was historical painter to George III., but still
a true son of America, and much known to
Americans in London. My parents were intimate with him, and he always took an interest
in their children. My father showed him some
flowers of my painting, on which he said, " Do
not let her waste her time on such things as




BENJAMIN WEST.            27
these; make her draw heads; any one who can
draw or paint the human face divine,will find all
other objects easy work." Mrs. West had a very
beautiful little spaniel of King Charles's breed,
and on my mother's admiring it, Mr. West made
a portrait of it for her.
My parents refused to be presented at the
Court of St. James, and yet had a great desire to
see the Royal family; so Mr. West promised to
obtain permission for them to be present in Somerset House, when the Royal family visited the
exhibition of pictures there, previous to its being
opened to the public. Mr. West always attended
the King, on these occasions, to point out to his
Majesty the pictures most worthy of his attention,
and was always invited to breakfast with him on
the morning that he went to Somerset House.
During the breakfast, Mr. West obtained leave
to admit his Quaker friends to the hall of entrance, and an order was despatched to the
guards on duty there to admit us. The commanding officer was very civil and placed us so
as to see the royal party to the best advantage.
The King came first, then the Queen, followed
by four princesses, and they courteously delayed
their passage through the hall for our gratification. Princess Elizabeth said, loud enough for
us to hear, that she admired the Quaker bonnet,
and should like to wear one, a great stretch of




28    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
politeness, we thought. The King asked Mr.
West if the little girl were a Quaker; I had on a
straw bonnet. On hearing that I was, he said,
" Tell her that if she had had on a Quaker bonnet I would have spoken to her."
George III. had great fondness for Quakers,
and removed some of their restrictions and disabilities. Their marriages were not legal until
they were made so in his reign. The reason for
his partiality was little known; but I have heard
it accounted for thus. When he was a young
man, he had a Quaker mistress, to whom he
was long faithful. She died just before his marriage, and when his courtiers supposed him to
be sleeping quietly in his palace, the night before his marriage, he was travelling incog. many
miles out of London, to take a last leave of his
dying mistress.
George III. was a stout, thick-set man, with a
short neck and a red face. He wore a brown
wig and a long frock-coat, and without the star
on his breast he would have passed for a country
squire. The Queen and princesses were all such
common-looking people that they upset my childish notions of royalty. I have since learned that
all that family were coarse, sensual, and vulgar.
George III. did all he could to keep the morals
of his daughters pure, but he failed entirely, notwithstanding his strict discipline and constant




MRS. KNOWLES.            29
vigilance. His last attack of insanity, from which
he never recovered, was brought on by an interview with the Princess Amelia, on her death-bed,
when she confessed to him her marriage, and besought him to be kind to her husband. She was
the best of his daughters and the most beloved
by him, and as her marriage was not a legal
one, the King was greatly shocked by the disclosure.
While living at Islington, we had frequent
visits from the learned and accomplished Mrs.
Knowles. She was the widow of a physician,
who had left her a handsome fortune. She was
a member of the Society of Friends, and, when a
young woman, had an animated discussion concerning the peculiar tenets of her sect with the
dogmatic Dr. Johnson. Their encounter must
have been like lightning and thunder, her lively
and brilliant remarks followed by the roar of denunciation from the Doctor. Her daring to differ
from him, and support her opinions by argument,
made her notorious among his admirers and his
enemies. Her father had given her the education of a boy, rather than of a girl of those days.
She was a good Greek and Latin scholar; but
her learning did not prevent her spending most
of her time, after marriage, in painting and
worsted work. Her manner of doing the latter
was peculiar to herself, and produced so fine an




30     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENT ~ YEARS.
effect, that she became famous for it, and was invited to St. James's Palace to show her work to
the Royal family. While there, she expressed a
strong desire to make a portrait in worsted work
of the King, and he very good-naturedly consented to sit-for it, little supposing how long it
would take; but her powers of conversation were
so great, that he declared he never lost his patience and was well amused all the time.
The likeness proved good, and the Queen
claimed it for her own, intending to make Mrs.
Knowles a suitable present in return. As she
wore a Quaker dress, jewelry would not be acceptable. A piece of plate might be the right
thing, but still the Queen was at a loss what to
choose; so she bade one of the gentlemen in waiting to speak with Mrs. Knowles and ascertain
what she would prefer. He did so, and she,
being very miserly, said she preferred a sum of
money.
When the Queen heard this, she said, " I
thought Mrs. Knowles was a lady, but I see she
is only a workwoman." A certain sum was paid
her, but she was never afterward invited to court.
Her avarice increased upon her to such a degree, that she gave up her carriage and horses,
her men-servants, and seeing company at her own
house; lived in the meanest manner, and mortified her rich relations in many ways. She loved




MRS. KNOWLES.            31
society, and had numerous invitations to great
houses, where her conversation was prized by
authors, and artists, and statesmen; but she
often arrived with muddy feet, and looking so
unlike a guest, that the footman would hardly
let her enter. She had a good figure and a
sprightly step, even when advanced in years, but
her face was very plain.  She was returning
alone from  a grand dinner-party, very late at
night, when a well-dressed man, coming up behind her, said he had always wished to kiss a
Quakeress and swore he would do it now. She
said very calmly, " Wait till we get to that lamppost, and then if thou wishest to kiss me thou
shalt do so." The astonished man obeyed, and
when the light fell on her face, he cursed her for
an ugly hag and passed on.
Washing cost money in London, and Mrs.
Knowles was too miserly to be clean. When invited to meet company at our house, my mother
would dress her in her own clothes, and feel herself well rewarded by the conversation of her
guest, who was a great politician, and clever men
liked to talk with her. She used to say, on meeting my mother, "' I know I am too dirty to suit
thy company, but I can wear some of thy castoff clothes, and look very nice."
When on her death-bed, her rich relations, who
were around her, were shocked at the state of




32    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
her chamber, and tried to make it more decent.
When she was sleeping heavily, they took off a
very dirty counterpane and put on a clean one;
but on awaking, she was so distressed by it that
they were obliged to let her die under the dirty
one.
Her only son inherited not only the accumulated riches of his mother, but also her miserly
disposition, and never enjoyed a penny of his fortune.




ELIZABETH FRY.            33
CHAPTER IV.
ELIZABETH FRY.
/RS. FRY, the reformer of female prisoners
in Newgate, was the third daughter of
John Gurney, of Earlham Hall, near Norwich, in
England. Her family belonged to the Society
of Friends, but she alone adhered to their rules
and wore their dress. Mr. Gurney had a princely fortune, and made an excellent use of it. He
was early left a widower, with eleven children,
and never married again. Home education, under his own supervision, was what he chose, and
the happy results of his training showed his wisdom. He lived on a large scale, but without
ostentation. His mansion was the resort of talent
and worth, and all were kindly received from the
prince to the beggar. It is told of Mrs. Fry, that
when a girl in her teens, a royal prince, son of
George III., was her father's guest, and having
heard of his dissipated habits, she invited him to
leave the gay throng in the drawing-room and accompany her to the school-room, where she made
him sit still, while she preached to him in Qua2*                      0




34     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
ker style. He was too much affected by her discourse to make fun of thee interview, and nothing
was known of it till long after.
Many suitors were attracted by the elegant
simplicity and high culture of the family at Earlham Hall. The stricter Quaker youths paid
their court to Elizabeth. Among these were Mr.
Joseph Fry, who, like the rest, was rejected, but
not utterly discouraged, and hearing that an
elderly friend of his was about to pay a visit to
Earlham, he told him of this rejected suit and
begged him to speak a good word for him. The
friend did as desired, and on coming away, he
asked Elizabeth what message he should carry to
Joseph. She replied, " Tell him, he has no hope,
but in the fickleness of woman." " Then I shall
tell him he has every hope." And so it proved,
he married his lovely Betsy, and transplanted her
from the princely establishment and gay family
party at Earlham to an old-fashioned house, in a
dark court, in the city of London; but this did
not disturb the serenity of his wife's well-disciplined mind. She believed that she had been
led there by the dictates of that inward monitor
whom it was her happiness to listen to and obey,
and in her later years she used to ascribe her
whole course of usefulness to her fellow-creatures
to that union with Joseph Fry and her life in
London.




ELIZABETH FRY.            35
She had been married many years, and was
the mother of ten children, when her attention
was called to the wretched state of the female
prisoners in Newgate by some male friends who
went there to see some criminals whom they
knew. She was shocked to hear that three hundred women with their numerous children were
crowded into four small rooms, without beds or
bedding, without classification, tried and untried,
in rags and dirt, and there they lived, cooked,
and washed. Their wretched condition made
them so fierce and brutal, that the governor of
the prison entered this portion of it with reluctance, and when Mrs. Fry, accompanied by one
other lady, wished to be admitted, he advised
them to leave their watches outside, least they
should be snatched from them. This they refused to do, and taking with them a quantity of
clothing to give away they entered that Babel of
discordant sounds.
Their appearance produced a lull, and certainly the tall, commanding figure of Mrs. Fry, with
her mild, benignant countenance and her sweet
tones of voice, might well make her appear like
some heavenly vision to those degraded women.
She distributed the clothing, of which they stood
so much in need, promised them some comforts,
and spoke words of kindness and encouragement
to them, such as they rarely, if ever, heard.




36     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Many years after this, I visited Newgate with
Mrs. Fry, and witnessed -the thorough reformation that had been effected there. The female
prisoners were classified, cleanliness and order
prevailed, swearing and fighting had given place
to reading and sewing, and a committee of ladies
were constantly visiting the prison by turns.
The morning that I was there, Mrs. Fry was to
have her last religious exercises with sixty female
convicts, about to embark for Botany Bay. We
entered a good sized, clean room, and found them
all seated on benches in perfect silence at the farther end of it. Mrs. Fry stood at a small table
between her and the convicts, a few visitors like
myself, stood on either side of her. She read
from the New Testament a few consolatary passages, and then proposed to pray with them.
The women rose, turned round, and kneeled beside the benches; Mrs. Fry kneeled on a hassock
before her table, and lifted up her melodious
voice in such a strain of tender supplication for
help and comfort to the afflicted and sorrowful,
as I can never forget. She merged herself in
them, and seemed as if she were bearing them
up on wings of love to the throne of grace.
Such a prayer I never before heard, and never
shall again. It was sublime, it was divine, and
it moved all present to tears. The poor women
sobbed aloud.




ELIZABETH FRY.           87
Mrs. Fry had previously talked with each one
of them and given them appropriate advice, and
furnished them with employment on their long
voyage. My mother used to dress dolls for the
convicts' children to play with at sea.




38    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER V.
MILFORD HAVEN.-FRENCH SPY. -FRENCH AT FISHGUARD.
r   HE great success of the sperm-whale fishery
in France, and the manufacturing of the
best spermaceti candles ever seen in any country,
made my father an authority in such matters.
Many merchants consulted him, and some statesmen thought it advisable to retain him in England, and induce him to prosecute the fishing
there, instead of returning to America. The
suit in chancery still lingered along, and he began to listen to the proposals made to him by
the Hon. Charles Greville, who had the care of
his uncle Sir William Hamilton's estate on the
banks of Milford Haven, in South Wales, and
earnestly entreated my father to settle there. A
visit to the place satisfied him that the port was
well adapted to the purpose; but there was no
town there, and there were no mechanics capable
of fitting out a whaling ship.
*Mr. Greville said that if Mr. Rotch would settle there a town would soon be created, and the
trades would gather round him, and so it proved.




MILFORD HAVEN.            39
~A large hotel was built, and Mr. Greville's influence caused a custom-house and a post-office
to be established there. He granted long leases
of land, at very low rents, and houses sprang
up like magic. My father had all the land he
wanted for warehouses and a dwelling-house, for
a mere nominal ground-rent, and Mr. Greville
obtained for him all the privileges and bounties
that he had enjoyed in France. Several new
houses were built before he removed his family to Milford, and one of them, though small,
was hired for our use until a larger one could
be built.
Coopers, and sailmakers, ship-carpenters, and
all the other tradesmen necessary to my father's
business, came and settled in Milford, on the prospect of the whale fishery being carried on from
that port, and great was the excitement and satisfaction when the first vessel arrived from America
loaded with sperm-oil. The cargo was sent round
to London in coasting vessels, and the ship was
immediately refitted for a voyage to the Pacific
Ocean. I have given this account of our settlement in Wales in order to make more intelligible
the incidents which linger in my memory and
which I am about to relate.
Wales being a conquered country, and the
peasantry and yeomanry still speaking a different
language from their conquerors, their civilization




40     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
did not keep pace with that of England. It
was allowed to be a hundred years behind, and
the manners and customs of all classes were of
course very different from those of the English.
The Welsh nobility and gentry are very proud
of their pedigrees, tracing back their ancestry far
beyond the Norman conquest. Many of them
have lost much of their ancestral possessions, but
none of their pride, and make great efforts to
keep up a grand appearance on small means.
It was a great trial to my parents to leave a
large circle of congenial friends, and the high
state of civilization which London afforded, and
plant themselves in a strange land and among
such a different kind of people. Mr. Greville
gave them letters of introduction to the first families in the country, and wrote to his friends to
interest them in us; but still the change was a
very painful one.
We were no sooner packed into our small
house, in Milford, than Mr. Greville's friends
began to call and extend a cordial reception to
the new-comers.   This was soon followed by
notes from several families, saying they would
come and dine with,us on a certain day. This
was an appalling civility to persons not yet settied in their house, and no way prepared to get
up a grand dinner. Just arrived, and entirely
ignorant of what would be expected of them,




MILFORD HAVEN.            41
they thought it the queerest mode of paying attention to strangers. It must be meant for a
civility, and it would not do to refuse it, yet it
seemed impossible to accept it. At last my
father thought of an excellent way of escaping
from  the dilemma. He would entertain them
at the hotel, he would order the handsomest dinner that could be procured, and the best wines,
and not let his guests know his intentions, till
they arrived at his house, when a servant should
be in attendance to direct them to the hotel.
In this way my mother was relieved of all care
and anxiety, and the dinner gave great satisfaction to all parties.
The Welsh nobility live on large estates and in
very stately mansions, and their annual visits to
London prevent their being so provincial as those
who seldom or never visit the metropolis. The
descendants of the most ancient families prided
themselves on adhering to the old customs of the
country, and disdained the idea of importing
London fashions and manners. The introduction
of railroads has changed all this, and the long
journey of two hundred and seventy miles from
Milford to London, which used to take ten days
to perform, with our own carriage and horses,
is now only one day's journey. The roads were
ill made and never kept in repair, and this made
riding on horseback a favorite mode of convey



42     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
ance. I have been one of a large dinner-party,
to which every guest went on horseback, and all
the ladies dined in their cloth habits and rode
home many miles at night. Those who possess
large landed estates look down upon the inhabitants of country towns, and consider it a condescension to admit to their houses the lawyer,
physician, or merchant, though often much bet,
ter educated than the country squire.
I am thus particular in describing the social
state of South Wales because it was the scene of
many events which will be better understood in
consequence.
I have mentioned a visit which my parents
made to South Wales, before settling there, and
will now relate some particulars of it which are
worthy of notice.
It so happened of all the persons who escaped
from France, by hiding themselves in the hold of
my father's ship, when he sailed in her from the
port of Dunkirk, only one of them ever crossed
his path again, and that one was a handsome
cabin-boy, transformed into a country squire,
married to an heiress, and living on one of her
estates. When my father made his tour of observation into Wales, before settling there, he
took his wife and his little girl with him and
spent several weeks at the Castle Inn, in Haverfordwest. There he did a great deal of writing,




FRENCH SPY.             43
and had letters and papers lying about with his
name and his address in Dunkirk on them.
These circumstances, with his occasionally speaking to his wife and child in French, raised suspicions that he was a French spy, and a paragraph to that effect appeared in a country newspaper, and fell under the eye of the squire.
When he read the names of Rotch, and Dunkirk, he began to think that the supposed spy
might be the benevolent Quaker who had helped
him to escape from France; so he forthwith
mounted his dapple-gray steed, and appeared at
the Castle Inn. The recognition was, of course,
all on one side, for no trace was left of the young
cabin-boy, but the meeting was very pleasant and
cordial on both sides. He told my father that he
was suspected of being a French spy, and that
the country was in such fear of French invasion
that he might be arrested, if proper precautions
were not taken. The squire, being a well-known
magistrate, soon put an end to all the false reports about his benefactor, and persuaded him
and his wife to become his guests at his countryseat, where he introduced them to his wife and
two maiden sisters, all of whom became, in after
years, our dear and intimate friends.  Many
were the happy Christmas days that we spent
under that roof, and when, some years after, by
my father's advice, and through his interest, the




44   -RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
squire became the collector of customs at Milford, the intercourse between his family and ours
was constant and agreeable.
The fear of French invasion was not unfounded. Napoleon kept an army at Boulogne,
and a flotilla of boats to bring them across the
Channel, and he only waited a favorable opportunity to invade England, march to London, and
dictate terms of peace from St. James's Palace.
This was his plan, but an English fleet kept in
the Channel prevented the attempt for many
weeks. At length the fleet sailed out of the
Channel, and Bonaparte thought that the longwished for time had arrived. He had previously
despatched a few companies of his poorest soldiers to make a landing in South Wales in order
to test the loyalty of the Welsh peasantry, whom
he falsely supposed to be disaffected towards the
English government.   They were gone long
enough to effect their purpose, when a terrible
storm arose which drove the English fleet back
into the Channel, and made it impossible for the
French army to embark. The unfortunate men
sent to make friends with the Welsh landed
at a small fishing-town called Fishguard, on a
little sandy beach, surrounded by high cliffs.
The population was small, and not a soldier in
the place, but the inhabitants went to the edge
of the cliff to look down. Half of these were wo



FRENCH AT FISHGUARD.        45
men, dressed, according to custom, in men's hats
and scarlet cloaks. The French, mistaking them
for soldiers, thought their case was hopeless, laid
down their arms, and surrendered themselves
prisoners of war to the women of Fishguard. A
militia regiment, under the command of Lord
Cawdor, did arrive in time to take their arms,
and march them to Milford, whence they were
sent by water to one of the prisons used for
French prisoners.
The news of the landing of the French spread
like wildfire; people ran for miles, screaming it all
the way they went; men on horseback galloped
through the land to give the alarm; volunteers,
who had been drilled into soldiers, for just such
an emergency, thought their time was come for
deeds of prowess; armed forces of all descriptions rushed to Fishguard, and there learned that
a handful of Frenchmen had surrendered to the
old women of Fishguard, and their valor was not
needed.
I have heard my mother say that she and her
husband were awakened, in the dead of night, by
a man calling out, under their window, " Get up,
get up, the French have landed, and you will all
be murdered in your beds."  My father opened
the window and asked where they had landed.
" At Fishguard," was the reply. " How far off
is that?  "  Twenty miles."  My father re



46    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
turned to bed, saying, "They cannot be here before morning; so we had better get all the sleep
we can to-night, for there is no knowing where
we may be to-morrow night." They did sleep
quietly that night, and the next day heard that
the invaders were all made prisoners, and they
saw them marched through Milford to be embarked. So ended Napoleon's grand threat of
invading England.




LADY HAMILTON.            47
CHAPTER VI.
LADY HAMILTON.- LORD NELSON. - CASTLE HALL
AND ITS COMPANY.
HEN Sir William Hamilton returned to
England, from his embassy at the court
of Naples, he determined to visit his large estate
on the banks of Milford Haven, and see the new
town which had grown up so suddenly under
the good management of his nephew, the Hon.
Charles Greville. Lady Hamilton chose to accompany her husband. On hearing this, Lord
Nelson became very desirous of examining the
celebrated harbor of Milford; so a party was
formed for a tour in Wales. Lady Nelson was
left behind, and her faithless husband devoted
himself to the notorious Lady Hamilton, as if he
had been her affianced lover.
Lady Hamilton began her career as a poor
girl, selling matches in the streets of London.
Happening to pass under the window of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, he was so struck with her
beauty, that he called her in, and engaged her to
sit for her likeness the next day. Having made
a charming picture of her, in that character, he




48     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
found her form so faultless, that he made her his
model for other pictures, and at last exhibited her
to his fellow artists, and even to amateurs and
patrons of art, in chosen attitudes of his arranging, and great was the admiration she excited.
One of the spectators fell in love with her beauty,
and made her his mistress. Intoxicated by the
change from poverty to luxury, she became very
extravagant, and the income of her lover would
not suffice for her expensive pleasures. He was
therefore well pleased when she left him for Sir
William Hamilton, then Minister in Naples.
The beautiful match girl now became a very
fine lady, and was delighted with the idea of go.
ing to Naples and living with a titled ambassador.
She had not been long there, when she persuaded
her infatuated lover to make her his lawful wife.
After this she was presented at that corrupt
court, and became the intimate friend of the licentious Queen of Naples. During her residence
there, Lord Nelson came, with the English fleet,
into that bay so famous for its beauty. The naval hero soon became violently enamored of the
charming Lady Hamilton; she too was in love,
and for the first time.
Parties and balls on board of Lord Nelson's
ship were continually given, to please Lady
Hamilton. One day, when she was at a dinner.
party there, a naval officer drew his sword, and




LADY HAMILTON. -LORD NELSON.      49
showing her the spots of blood on it, boasted of
how many Frenchmen it had killed. Instead of
being disgusted at this brutal conduct, she kissed
the sword and passed it round, requesting every
one to do the same; but it stopped at a young
English traveller,'who indignantly refused to
touch it.
There was, at this time, a mutiny on board the
fleet, and several sailors were hung at the yardarms of their ships. Lady Hamilton, with a
party of her friends, went out in boats to see
the executions.
Her amiable old husband had neither eyes nor
ears for her intrigues, and always behaved as if
he considered her intimacy with Lord Nelson as
an affair of pure friendship, in which he participated. He certainly did share in the love-letters,
written to Lady Hamilton by Lord Nelson, when
he was fighting the French, for he read some of
them to my father, and I well remember his repeating the first sentence, in one of them, written
the day after a sea-fight. It ran thus: " My
dearest, dearest, dearest Emma! last night we
sent five hundred Frenchmen's souls to hell."  I
am not certain of the number specified, but every
other word I am sure of. Such was the style of
correspondence between the match-girl and the
sailor.
When Sir William Hamilton and his party ar3                       D




50     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
rived in Milford, accompanied by the great naval
commander, the nobility and gentry for miles
round flocked to see him, and pay their respects
to the hero of the Nile.
A public dinner was given to him, at which
Lady Hamilton chose to be present; she sat next
to him, cut up his meat, which the loss of an arm
prevented him from doing, and fed him with titbits from her own plate. She had a fine voice
and would sing sailors' songs and verses written
in praise of the great admiral, at public dinners,
whilst her doting old husband sat.by admiring
her. When I saw her in 1802, her face was still
beautiful, but she had grown fat and her figure
was spoiled.  Short waists and narrow skirts
were then in fashion. The French had introduced the custom of wearing as little clothing as
possible, and making that little look like the drapery of an ancient Greek statue. The weather
was very warm when Lady Hamilton was in Milford, and she walked about the town in two garments only, showing her shape most indecently.
My mother had resolved to take no notice of
Lady Hamilton, and being on the eve of her confinement, she excused herself from calling on her.
But that bold woman was resolved that it should
not be said that Mrs. Rotch would not receive her;
so one very warm day, when all our doors and
windows stood open, she walked into our draw



LORD NELSON.             51
ing-room, where my mother and I were sitting,
and greeted us very familiarly. Though I was
but a child, I was struck with the coldness of my
mother's reception, and wondered that she was
not more cordial to such a lovely and fascinating
guest.
Lord Nelson was very ordinary in his appearance; lean and sallow, his face much wrinkled
and his hair very thin. He was proud of the loss
of his arm, and always wore his coat-sleeve
empty. When I was one day standing by him,
at our house, with my eyes fixed on that empty
sleeve, he said, " Look at it well, and then you
will always remember me by my one arm."  Being in Milford on the first of August, the anniversary of the battle of the Nile, he instituted a
boat-race to be held annually, on that day, and
Lord Cawdor offered to furnish a silver cup to be
run for every year. My father's yacht won it
three times, and then he withdrew from the contest, to give others a chance of winning. On
these occasions our house was filled with company and we had gay times.
Sir William's estates all descended to his nephews, whether by entail or by his own choice, I do
not know; but he left very little to his widow, and
Lord Nelson did not add to her income, but made
himself ridiculous by a request in his will that
the government would grant her a pension. The




52     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS
public could see no reason why the mistress of
Lord Nelson should be so provided for, but the
friends of the admiral said, she deserved it for
having obtained, through her intimacy with the
Queen of Naples, some valuable political information for Lord Nelson, when he was commanding
a fleet in the Mediterranean. Whether this was
true or not, her services were never recognized,
and she died, in great poverty, in France.
Lord Nelson gave a full length portrait of himself, in oils, to the hotel at which he stayed in Milford, and which was named for him. The picture
hangs there still, though the house has changed
hands several times.
Milford enjoyed many years of prosperity under the management of Mr. Greville. Several
men-of-war were launched from its dock-yard,
daily packets were established between Milford
and Waterford, carrying mails and passengers.
Militia regiments were quartered there, and the
haven was seldom without a vessel of the navy
anchored in its roads.
My father was engaged in building a house
large enough for his increasing family, when an
estate in the neighborhood, of one hundred and
eighty acres, with a large house on it, called
Castle Hall, was offered for sale, at a very moderate price, and he became the purchaser and removed his family into it. We were all so much




CASTLE HALL AND ITS COMPANY.     53
pleased with our country life, and my father took
so much delight in farming the land, and improving the pleasure-grounds, that the new house
in Milford was no inducement to leave it, and we
children were rather glad when it was accidentally
destroyed by fire.
Seven acres of ornamental grounds and gardens gave my father ample scope for his love of
improving and embellishing the place; he made
ugly slopes into pretty terraces, formed new
land in front of the house, built an orangery
eighty feet long and twenty feet high, entirely of
iron and glass, and filled it with the finest orange, lemon, and citron-trees from a celebrated
orangery in a distant county, sold on the death
of the owner. He made pineries too, -three
houses, hot, hotter, and hottest, -in which three
hundred fine, large pine-apples were produced in
one year. The climate was very mild. We had
monthly roses blooming out of doors all winter,
and a hedge of laurestine, which enclosed a rosegarden, was always in full bloom in February.
All these improvements, with the high cultivation of English gardening, not usually practised
in Wales, made Castle Hall a show-place. The
orangery and the pinery were a great novelty in
Pembrokeshire, and I remember being very tired
of showing them to our visitors.
The head-gardener would have complained of




54    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the trouble of showing the place to strangers, had
he not been paid by them for doing it.  We
might well keep the grounds in high order, when
a woman could be hired to weed all day for
twelve cents, and a laboring man for less than a
quarter of a dollar.
My father's hospitality knew no bounds, and
our house was filled with the greatest variety of
visitors. For months together we never sat down
to a meal alone. Besides exchanging visits once
or twice a year with the gentry and nobility of
the country, we had no objection to the society
of the best people in the country towns. After
the packets ran from Milford to Waterford, we
often had the company of the Irish members of
Parliament, on their way to and from London.
My father had travelled in Ireland and been treated so hospitably, that he was glad to pay every
attention to those who brought letters from his
friends in that country.
The long war between France and England
prevented the English from travelling on the
Continent, and a tour through North and South
Wales was an agreeable substitute. Many tourists came, introduced to my father by his London
friends; those among them who were artists
were especially welcome to my brothers, who enjoyed sketching with them the numerous picturesque castles and ruins to be found in our neigh



CASTLE HALL AND ITS COMPANY.      55
borhood. Every Quaker made our house his
home, every American traveller was doubly welcome, and nany visited us before the war of
1812. Added to all this variety of guests, there
was still another set, entirely distinct from them,
who were more to us socially than all the rest.
These were very genteel, well-bred people, who,
for some reason or other, wished to live retired
and very economically for a few years. They occupied three cottages belonging to my father, and
bordering on our pleasure-grounds, and were, of
course, our nearest neighbors, and became our
most intimate friends. My father bought those
cottages on purpose to prevent their being inhabited by exceptionable characters, and he was very
careful as to whom he let them.
All these various classes of visitors made an
immense circle of acquaintances, and we sometimes met with strange experiences among them,
one of which will be found in the next chapter.




56     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       VII.
HERBERT FAMILY. - SAILOR-BOY. - WANDERING GIRL.
-ORLEANS FAMILY.
OSPITALITY has its dangers, as well as
its pleasures, and so my parents found,
when a guest, invited only to dine, was confined
to their house for three months by acute rheumatism, and a determination to continue in good
quarters. We were then living at Castle Hall.
Returning home from London in the mailcoach, my father met with an Irish artist, named
Herbert, whose conversation amused him much,
and finding that he took small full-length likenesses, in water colors, he invited him to his
house to make a picture of my mother.
Herbert came and spent a month in making
frightful likenesses of the whole family, and was
a very acceptable guest to the younger members
of it, for he aided us in getting up private theatricals, and gave us many pleasant evenings, reading aloud to us the best English comedies. A
year after this, he was on his way to Ireland with
his wife and daughter, and they were all invited
to dine at our house. On rising from the table,




HERBERT FAMILY.           57
Mrs. Herbert was seized with violent pains in her
limbs, and could hardly move. My mother kindly
advised her being put to bed and having hot
fomentations, little thinking that her suffering
guests would be the torment of the house for
three months to come, but so it fell out.
Mr. Herbert had married his wife for her
handsome.figure, without any knowledge of her
character, and found himself united to a vixen,
who tyrannized over him and his children in the
most remorseless way. He was very good-tempered, devoted to his art, and yielded to her rule
for the sake of peace. Her violent temper, exasperated by the pain of acute rheumatism, made
her so exacting and unreasonable that the devoted attendance of her husband and daughter,
and of our excellent servants, could not soothe
or satisfy her. Our family physician attended
her, and prescribed a low diet, but this she
secretly evaded. Bountiful dinners used to be
sent up to her daughter Lucy, a girl of fourteen,
whom she would not allow to leave her room,
and of these the mother ate by far the larger
part; when she was satisfied, the plate was put
before her pug-dog, and what he left, was all
that Lucy had. This had gone on for a long
while, and the poor child was half starved before my mother discovered it; when she did,
she required Lucy's presence at the dinner-table,
3*




58     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
and there she always came until, one day, she
sent word she could not come. My sister, about
the same age as Lucy, was sent up to know the
reason why, and came down in tears, to say that'the poor girl's ears had been pulled so violently
by her mother, that they were bleeding, and she
could not come down. The presence of Mr. Herbert alone prevented the explosion of our wrath
and indignation, but we were all much excited
against this unnatural mother. My father told
Mr. Herbert that he ought not to allow his
daughter to be so ill-treated; the poor man said
he could not help it, that Lucy was ill-tempered
and obstinate, and her mother had never loved
her, because she was so ugly. This was to us a
new view of maternal feelings.
Soon after all supplies of hearty food were cut
off Mrs. Herbert's severe pains left her, and the
fever subsided; but she still kept her bed, and
slept so much by day, that she often lay awake
at night, and then she would not let Lucy sleep,
but kept her standing by her bedside, and when
her sleepy eyes closed, she would pinch her to
keep her awake. We had observed black and
blue spots on Lucy's arms, but it was not till she
ventured to confide her griefs to my sister, that
we knew how she came by them. One day on
seeing my sister kiss her mother, Lucy burst into tears, and said she never had kissed her moth



HERBERT FAMILY.           59
er, and should no more think of it, than of kissing the Queen. Treated with kindness, for the
first time in her life, Lucy became a new being.
Talents were developed that astonished her father. Seeing me draw heads in crayon, she borrowed my materials and made a very tolerable
likeness of me. Seeing my sister write verses,
she tried to do the same, and succeeded so well
that her father could not believe the verses to be
hers; he was sure she had copied them from
some book; but when she wrote some lines, impromptu, on an event that had just happened, he
was obliged to give up the idea inculcated by his
wife, that Lucy was the worst and most stupid of
children.  He now thought it worth while to
give her lessons in drawing, with a view to her
future maintenance; but her mother interrupted
them, and would not let Lucy perform the work
which her father required of her. As soon as he
left the house she would make Lucy leave her
drawing and sit in her room, and then tell her
father that Lucy left it voluntarily. The poor
child dare not gainsay her mother, but one of her
young friends told Mr. Herbert the truth about
it, and he ceased scolding her.
Mrs. Herbert had been well enough for a
month to pass most of her time down stairs,
to take drives, and to walk about the grounds,
before any sign of departure was made. My




60    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
mother bore the trial without a complaint, but
the patience of the servants was nearly exhausted
before the three Herberts, with their lap-dog and
canary-bird, departed for Ireland. One Saturday afternoon, in January, they embarked on
board the sailing-packet, which ran between Milford and Waterford, well provisioned by my
mother for their short voyage. Mr. Herbert expressed his sincere gratitude, and Lucy was
heart-broken at leaving her only friends, but
Mrs. Herbert seemed only provoked at having to
go away at all. Our carriage took them to Milford, and my father saw them on board the packet, and privately urged upon Mr. Herbert the
necessity of separating Lucy from her mother.
Did not we talk them over that evening, and
lament over the fate of that unhappy girl! As
the next day was Sunday, the housemaid was
excused from doing anything to the two rooms
which they had occupied, and which were in such
a plight as to require whitewashers and painters
to make them decent. A very unusual sight for
that part of South Wales awaited us the next
morning; the ground was covered with snow, and
the storm continuing, no one went to church.
We were all in the library reading or writing, and
enjoying such tranquillity as we had not had for
three months, when on looking out of the window my brother exclaimed, " Here they all are




HERBERT FAMILY.           61
coming back." We thought he was joking, but
it was too true; there was father, mother, daughter, dog, and canary-bird, all ploughing through
the snow up to our door! We swallowed down
our chagrin, and tried to receive them hospitably.
We were assisted in this by the real regret expressed by Mr. Herbert, and by the sufferings of
Lucy, whose hands were nearly frozen by carrying the bird-cage.  They told us that the storm
had driven back the packet, and the tide was so
low they could not land at Milford, nor indeed
anywhere but on a long point of land belonging
to our estate. This remarkable necessity helped
to reconcile us to their return, and the housemaid was glad enough that nothing had been
done to their rooms.
They stayed with us only a few days and then
took lodgings at Milford, as Mrs. Herbert was
afraid to try another voyage at that inclement
season. All my mother's servants and children
had been strictly charged not to speak of Mrs.
Herbert's faults to any one out of the house;
so the inhabitants of Milford were well disposed
towards them, but they had not been there long
before an old friend of ours said to my mother,
" What crime have you ever committed, that you
should have such an infliction as three months
of Mrs. Herbert's company? Why, she is a perfect Xantippe! How could you bear with her




62     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
for three months? The woman in whose house
they are has given them warning to quit, on account of Mrs. Herbert's treatment of her daughter. She struck her with a carving-knife and cut
a gash in her cheek. All the town is in a ferment
about it."
When the spring came the Herberts went to
Ireland, and Lucy was placed in a convent, but
that dreadful life of inaction and monotony was
worse for her mind than her mother's ill treatment; she became insane and was removed to an
asylum in Dublin, where she died in a few years.
She wrote to my sister, from the convent, very
interesting letters, though containing illusions
which showed her mind to be unsound. She
begged my sister to procure for her a passage to
America, in one of her father's ships, as she had
received a Divine command to go to that country
and preach the importance and efficacy of love.
All sectarian differences were to be done away in
that new land of freedom, and the gospel of love
was to be the only doctrine preached. A beautiful idea this for an ill-educated Roman Catholic
girl to originate. She never could have heard it
where she was.
I remember, when living in Milford, seeing my
mother in the kitchen talking with a very pretty
young sailor, who said he belonged to a vessel in
the harbor, bound to New York, and hearing




SAILOR-BOY.             63
that an American family resided in this house,
he called to offer to carry out letters for them.
An extraordinary piece of courtesy thought my
mother. She asked him what brought him on
shore. -" To get water for the ship from a
neighboring spring; the boat's crew are filling
casks there now." Observing his delicate white
hands, and struck with his good language and
gentle voice, she suspected him to be a runaway
school-boy, and taxed him with it. He blushingly denied it. She said those hands do not
look as though they had ever handled tarry ropes.
He pulled down the sleeves of his jacket to hide
them and looked embarrassed. She asked him
if his mother knew where he was, and he hesitatingly said she did not. On this my mother
depicted the anguish of a parent under such ci'cumstances, and exhorted him to write to her
before he slept, and tell her where he was going,
which he promised to do. By way of seeing him
again my mother said she would write by him to
her friends in America, and he promised to call
for her letter. Several days passed and he did
not appear; but we heard a strange report from
the neighboring town that a young lady, in sailor's clothes, had been found on board an American
vessel in the harbor, and that a gentleman had
arrived, travelling post, with four horses, had gone
on board the vessel and brought off a lady whom




64     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
he carried away with him. The mystery of my
mother's sailor-boy was solved, and she soon received a letter from the runaway girl, thanking
her for the good advice she had given her, and
saying, that the letter she wrote to her mother,
expecting to sail before it was received, had been
the means of saving her from a ridiculous adventure, of which she was now heartily ashamed.
She proved to be of a highly respectable family in
Bristol, whom my mother knew. There was no
love in the case, it was merely the freak of a
young person who was tired of a very monotonous life.
I know a somewhat similar case in the family
of my friend R-    B. The youngest of
seven daughters fancied herself less loved and less
cared for than her sisters, and, in a fit of discontent, walked off one fine morning from her luxurious home, and without purse or scrip, or any definite plan, wandered on till dark, enjoying the idea
of the sensation her disappearance would create
at home. She applied for a lodging at the house
of a small farmer, but was told they did not take
in trampers. This surprised her, for she had read
of heroines in distress who always received kindness from strangers. It was a warm night, and
she laid down on some straw she found in a shed
and slept till morning. She arose very hungry
but walked on till she came to another small




ORLEANS FAMILY.           65
house, where, after asking her many questions,
she was given a very good breakfast. When she
rose to go, she found herself a prisoner; the family had discovered who she was, and she was detained, not very unwillingly, until a brother and
sister arrived in their close carriage to take her
home. Her desire to create a sensation in the
dull life of the great house, was fully gratified by
the accounts she heard of the alarm of her family, and the active search made for her all night.
She fared the better for this escapade, and more
care was taken to promote her happiness.
When girls have finished their school education, and have no inclination to pursue their
studies, they should be provided with some necessary and constant employment to save them
from the ennui which led to both the absurd enterprises above related.
During the exile of the Orleans family, two
brothers of Louis Philippe made the tour of
Wales, and brought letters of introduction to my
father, then living in Milford. He gave them a
dinner, and as my parents had been in France
during the troubles that drove them into exile,
they had much interesting conversation together.
I was then ten years old, and had been reading
in French Le Theatre d'_Education of Madame
de Genlis, and was greatly excited by seeing the
children whom she educated, the very Theodore




66     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
whom I had read of. I kept whispering to my
mother, " Ask about Madame de Genlis."  At
last she did inquire after her, and I well remember the answer of the Duc de Montpensier. " I
owe much to that artful woman." I was disappointed and shocked, for I thought if he owed
her much he need not speak ill of her.
The Due de Montpensier was in a consumption, and died not long after his tour in Wales.
Madame de Genlis lived to old age, and passed
her last years as a boarder in a convent several
miles from Paris. She used to boast that she
could do twenty things, by any one of which she
could earn a living, and to say that in an age
of continual revolutions every one should be so
prepared.




CRABBE.               67
CHAPTER       VIII.
CRABBE. - BUXTON. - JOANNA BAILLIE.
A     CURIOUS circumstance in the life of Crabbe
the poet, not mentioned in his biography,
is eonnected with the inhabitants of one of my
father's cottages. A widow lady and her two
daughters lived there several years, and were
very intimate with our family. One of the ladies
was engaged to the poet, and was jilted by him
when on the point of being mairied and having
the wedding-breakfast at our house.
The beginning of the affair is as remarkable as
its termination; so I will relate the whole. Miss
Charlotte P., the accomplished daughter of a
wealthy owner of mines in Cornwall, interested
herself in those unhappy creatures whose lives
are spent underground, and finding among them
a romantic case of love and constancy, she sent
the story to Mr. Crabbe, the popular poet of the
day, considering it especially suited to his style
of composition. He was pleased with the narrative and charmed by the letter which accompanied it. A very agreeable correspondence followed, which lasted several months. Miss P. was




68    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
engaged to be married, and her affianced was
often at the house, and always read Crabbe's letters to her. He thought them nothing less than
love-letters, and advised her to drop the correspondence. She laughed at the idea, and believed
he had a wife living; her lover thought he was a
widower, and insisted upon it that he was making love to Miss P. She would not agree to that,
but was very ready to drop the correspondence.
The very next letter from the aged poet was a
declaration of love, and a proposal to visit her!
Great was the rallying and joking which Miss P.
had to endure. She was provoked with herself
and the poet, and wished she had never sent him
the story of the miner. She begged a friend who
was staying with her, Miss Charlotte R., to write
to Mr. Crabbe, and inform him of her engagement. The friend did so in the most kind and
flattering way, and received a very remarkable
answer.
Mr. Crabbe was so much pleased with the
friend's letter, that he transferred his proposals
from the first Charlotte to the second; he was
sure they were kindred spirits, and as he had not
seen either lady, it would make no difference to
him! This was too good a joke to be kept secret,
and a large family party were greatly diverted by
it. After all sorts of fun had been made of it,
Charlotte the second was observed to look very




CRABBE.               69
grave, and not to join in the diversion of the party. She gave them a second fit of astonishment
by accepting the poet's offer, and appointing a
meeting with him at the house of her aunt, in a
neighboring county. They met, were mutually
pleased, and parted betrothed to each other.
On her return home we were soon informed of
her engagement to Mr. Crabbe, but were charged
not to mention it before her mother. "Why
not," was of course asked, and her reply was,
"Because my mother is so old-fashioned that she
would call my dear bard my sweetheart, and talk
about courtship, and you know I could not bear
that; it would be insupportable."
With all this nonsense she was sincerely attached to Mr. Crabbe, and kept up a brisk correspondence with him. At first she would read
parts of his letters to me, and talk incessantly of
himr and his poems. She was very proud of her
engagement to so celebrated a poet. After some
months had elapsed, a time was fixed for the
marriage, and then it was deferred by Mr. Crabbe
for some slight reason.  My father wrote to the
" dear bard," and invited him to stay at his house
when he should come to be married to Miss C.
R., but received no reply. Charlotte looked unhappy, but still her preparations went on. I was
asked to make up the wedding favors, which were
bows of white satin ribbon, edged round with nar



70     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
row silver fringe; the white gloves were bought
which were to be given to the wedding-guests;
our cook had made the wedding-cake; when we
were startled by the news that the match was
broken off, and Charlotte was in fits.
It appeared afterwards that Crabbe's grown up
sons convinced him of the folly of his conduct;
he had long repented of his sudden engagement,
and had tried by his correspondence so to displease the lady, as to make her break it off. She
was resolved to have the eclat of marrying a celebrated poet, and would take no hints to the contrary. She was also in love with her old bard,
and never recovered from her chagrin and sorrow. She died in a few years, and her family
always believed that her life was shortened by
this affair.
My most intimate friend from childhood to old
age was a Miss H., who resided near London, and
in her middle age she formed a great friendship
for Mr. Crabbe. He was rector of a parish at
Trowbridge, a few miles from the city of Bath,
where Miss H. spent part of every winter and had
much of her friend's company. Happening to be
in Bath, I was invited to a ceremonious breakfast
given by Miss H., and was much pleased with the
idea of meeting several literary characters, and
among them Mr. Crabbe; but before the day
came, I was earnestly requested to stay away




CRABBE.               71
from that breakfast. Mr. Crabbe could not meet
a person so intimately connected with the lady he
had jilted. This was soon after that unpleasant
affair. Many years afterwards we became very
good friends, and it happened thus:I was staying at the house of Miss H., near
London, when Crabbe was expected to make his
annual visit. I offered to go away, but my friend
would not hear of it; she was determined that
her twro most intimate friends should know and
like each other. He was in London, and Miss H.
was to bring him out in her carriage, and she
made me go into town with her. When we
stopped at his lodgings, the old gentleman clambered into the carriage as though every joint
was stiffened by age. When at last he plumped
down on the seat and looked around him, my
friend introduced me. He started as if electrified. I said, "I am very happy to see Mr.
Crabbe"; he replied very crossly, "Yes, we always like to see those we have heard a great deal
about." -" It is Mr. Crabbe the poet that I am
glad to see." -" 0! I thank you for that," and
he seized my hand and shook it heartily. In a
few days we had talked over the whole affair of
Miss Charlotte, and he ended by saying, " I know
I behaved very badly, but I should have done
worse if I had married her."
At the same house where I met Mr. Crabbe I




72    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
used frequently to see that honest statesman,
Fowell Buxton. A grand physique corresponded
to his noble mind, and his powerful frame set off
to advantage the gentleness of his domestic character. I saw him the very day that he risked his
life by seizing and holding a mad dog that was
carrying danger and dismay into a populous
street. I remember my friend's examining his
hands to see if there were any scratch on them
by which the poison might have entered.
My parents were acquainted with the grandmother of Mr. Buxton, and used to hear her give
very entertaining accounts of visits she received
from George III. and his family when they were
in the habit of going every summer to Weymouth
for sea-bathing. Mrs. Buxton had a fine countryhouse without the town, and lived there in ease
and affluence. The king took a fancy to honor
her and amuse himself by dining, not with her, but
at her house, once during his stay at Weymouth.
The queen and princesses chose to accompany
him, so, although the king ate nothing but beefsteak, a luxurious dinner must be prepared for
the royal ladies. Mrs. Buxton never knew when
they were coming till the morning of the day
chosen by his Majesty, and as he required a very
early dinner it was no easy matter to be prepared
for him and his family. The grandchildren of
Mrs. Buxton said they fared sumptuously every




BUXTON.               73
day during the King's stay in Weymouth, until
his visit was over, for they ate up the good things
kept in readiness for the royal party.
On one of his visits the King came a little before the dinner-hour, and took a fancy to go over
Mrs. Buxton's nice house. She hoped that he
meant only the lower floor, for all her chambers
were in dire confusion, every member of the
family having dressed in great haste for the occasion. No one could precede the King, and, to
her dismay, up stairs he went.  There was a
housemaids' closet in sight, and into it had run
two housemaids, to avoid being seen. The King
perceived that the door moved a little, and he
attempted to open it; the women held on to it,
resolved not to be seen; but when it occurred to
them that they were resisting their King, they
suddenly let go, and his Majesty narrowly escaped
falling backward. He laughed, and went on,
looking into every room and praising the house.
In those days, Royalty was never waited on by
hired menials, nor could a subject sit at the same
table with the King's family; so the hostess stood
beside the Queen all through the dinner, and her
grandchildren waited on her guests. They had
funny times rehearsing as footmen, and learning
how to change plates and hand the liquors. It
would seem to us a very doubtful honor thus to
entertain crowned heads.
4




74     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Another celebrated person whom I used to
meet at the house of Miss H., and with whom I
have often dined at her own modest mansion in
Hampstead, was Joanna Baillie. She was past
fifty when I first saw her, and appeared an old
lady to me, then in my teens. She dressed like
an aged person, and with scrupulous neatness.
She lived with a sister who looked older still,
because she had not the vivacity of Joanna, and
was only distinguished for the amiability with
which she bore being outshone by her more
gifted relative.
Miss Baillie, according to the English custom,
took the title of Mrs. Joanna Baillie, on passing
her fiftieth birthday. She gave the prettiest and
the pleasantest dinners, and presided at them
with peculiar grace and tact, always attentive to
the wants of her guests, and yet keeping up a
lively conversation the while.  She took such
pleasure in writing poetry, and especially in her
plays on the Passions, that she said, " If no one
ever read them, I should find my happiness in
writing them."
Though she was young when she left her
native land, she never lost her Scotch accent.
I thought it made her conversation only the more
piquant. She was full of anecdote and curious
facts about remarkable people. I only recollect
her telling one of Lord Byron being obliged, by




JOANNA BAILLIE.            75
politeness, to escort her and her sister to the
opera, and her perceiving that he was provoked
beyond measure at being there with them, and
that he made faces as he sat behind them.




76     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       IX.
LADY MACWORTH.
N acquaintance of twenty years with the
subject of the following story makes me
certain of all the facts as here given.
There lived in the town of Swansea, in South
Wales, a widow lady, with one daughter, who was
a great beauty, very high-spirited, and somewhat
spoiled by indulgence. At seventeen she was the
toast of the whole county, to use the phrase of
the day, and surrounded by admirers and lovers.
A certain Baronet, possessed of a charming country-seat in the vicinity of the town, fell violently
in love with Miss M —. She refused him; but
he would not take no for an answer, and persecuted her with attentions. She loved no one else,
and her mother favored his suit. Young as she
was, and under the influence of an ambitious
mother, she yet had an idea that she ought to
love the man she married, and for a long time
she persisted in rejecting Sir Herbert Macworth's
suit. He became desperate, and presented himself before her with a loaded pistol, swearing he
would shoot himself in her presence if she gave




LADY MACWORTH.             77
him no hope; she was so alarmed that she hardly
knew what she said, but she prevented him from
committing suicide that day. After many more
scenes of violence, she was worried into compliance, and became the wife of a very dissipated
and half-crazy man. He drove tandem in an
open carriage, every pannel and each wheel
painted a different color, and on the back were
the words, This is the Tippee.
Installed as Lady Macworth and mistress of
the Knoll, which was the name of his countryseat, her only company were Sir Herbert's riotous
companions, who, according to the custom of that
day, spent the evening in drinking and carousing,
and, when the guests were carried home by their
servants, the host was generally prostrate on the
floor, to be picked up and put to bed by his valet
and footmen. The young wife was shocked by
these excesses, but could not make Sir Herbert
ashamed of them; for a night's sleep obliterated
from his mind the scene of the previous evening.
It occurred to her that he had better be made
acquainted with the state in which he and the
room were, when the carouse broke up; so the
next time that her husband was dead-drunk on
the floor, she forbade the servants to remove him
or anything about him. Broken glass and spilled
wine and chairs upset were all left as they were,
and she locked up the dining-room door, resolved




78    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
that Sir Herbert should remain there till morning. Finding the men-servants were inclined to
disobey her, she mounted guard over the room
with a pistol in her hand, and declared she would
shoot the man who dared approach that door.
On this the servants went off to bed, and she kept
her melancholy watch alone.
As soon as it was broad daylight she entered
the room, opened the shutters, and aroused her
husband.  His astonishment and bewilderment
were great, and when he came to his senses he
was shocked at the scene around him, and began
to blame his servants. She told him the part she
had acted and her motive for so doing; and he
was so pleased with her courage and spirit, that
he called her a fine girl and promised never to
repeat such an orgy.
She made him give up some of his worst companions, and invited to her house the best of her
friends; but she could not reform such a poor,
weak, half-crazy man, and he did not live long
to torment her. She became a widow at nineteen, and sent for a dear friend, a few years older
than herself, to come and live with her. Miss
P —   was a woman of good sense and high principles. She had renounced her young friend
when she made a match so unworthy of her; but
now that that terrible alliance was dissolved, she
hoped to be of some service to her, and became a




LADY MACWORTH.            79
resident at the Knoll. Her influence was very
powerful, and the lovely young widow corrected
many of her faults, ceased to use the slang and
coarse expressions which her husband had taught
her, closed her doors to his bad companions, cultivated the society of the best people, and became
the amiable and elegant woman that she was
when I first knew her.
During her husband's life there came to her
house a young man of high family, large fortune,
and great beauty. He was making the tour of
Wales, and brought a letter of introduction to Sir
Herbert Macworth. He was heir to large estates,
and his mother was urging him to marry. He
said he must first fall in love, and he had never
yet seen the lady whom he could love. When he
left her, to make this tour, she hoped he would
be captivated by some fair Cambrian, and return
to her engaged. On his coming home, she eagerly
asked him if he had seen the lady he could love;
he answered very gravely that he had, but she
was already the wife of another, and therefore he
should never marry. He had fallen in love with
Lady Macworth! To divert the current of his
thoughts he went abroad, and only returned when
he heard of the death of Sir Herbert Macworth.
In due time he renewed his acquaintance with
the lovely widow, and was delighted to find her
so improved; attractive as she had been before,




80     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
she was now tenfold more charming. She was
cultivating her mind by reading the best books,
and improving her character by listening to the
counsel of her excellent friend, Miss P —. He
joined in their pursuits, and enlarged the boundaries of their knowledge by his instructive conversation. The hearts of the two young people
were soon united, but she refused to engage herself to him until she had been a widow for a year.
This deference she paid to the opinion of the
world. At the expiration of the year he urged
her to marry him; but she said she would not
marry until she was twenty-one years old. "I
have never yet been my own mistress; as a minor
I have no power over my property, and I choose
to be of age before I again give myself a master."
In vain did her lover combat this fancy, and
assure her she should do as she pleased with her
property after marriage. She put him off for
another year, and enjoyed meanwhile as much as
she could of his society. A life-long grief was
the consequence of this delay, for her lover died
toward the close of that year; and she always
believed that, had she married him, he would not
have been exposed to the infectious disease which
killed him.
Now, for the first time, did she experience the
true heart-sorrow of a widow.  She renounced
society, shut herself up with her friend, and suf



LADY MACWORTH.             81
fered severely from this bereavement. The near
relations of Mr. Hanbury had paid her great
attention as his affianced bride, and she was
much beloved by his mother and brother. For
many months they were the only friends admitted
to her privacy.  Their sympathy consoled and
cheered her. This younger brother succeeded to
the estates of the one that was gone; he resembled him in his person and character; their voices
were alike, and their pursuits the same. Can we
think it very strange if this living likeness should,
in time, take the place of the original, if words
of love should mingle with words of sympathy,
and the same tones that once vibrated through
her heart should again find an answering chord
there?
In marrying the younger Mr. Hanbury, she
took possession of the same delightful home that
she would have shared with his elder brother, the
same woods and groves and brooks that were
sacred to his memory, and her love for his name
induced her to relinquish her title of Lady Macworth and become plain Mrs. Hanbury. One of
her first occupations after her marriage was to
build a pretty hermitage on a high point of land
in her park, which commanded a view of the
church where the remains of her first love were
laid. She, with the aid of Miss P, covered
the inside walls with shells and spars and other
4*                      F




82    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
brilliant stones.  The floor was of very small
pebbles, blue and white, laid in a regular pattern
and producing a very pretty effect.
When I was shown the curious and elaborate
work bestowed on this little building by the delicate hands of Mrs. Hanbury, I called it a labor
of patience. "Say rather a labor of love; it did
me more good to work here than anything else
could do, and I was only sorry when it was finished." She loved her husband, but it was with
a chastened, sober love, which showed how much
she had suffered.




PRINCESS CARABOO.         83
CHAPTER       X.
PRINCESS CARABOO.
I WAS on a visit near Bristol when the following events took place, and I shared in the
excitement they produced.
Mrs. Worrell, a lady of fortune, residing at her
country-seat, just out of Bristol, in England, saw,
coming up her avenue, a fine-looking young
woman, strangely dressed, and beckoned to her
to come to the drawing-room window, instead
of going round to the back-door.  The stranger
bowed gracefully, but did not speak. Mrs. Worrell made some kind inquiries, but was answered
in some language unknown to her. She soon
found, however, that the poor girl was hungry,
and sent her round to her kitchen to be refreshed
with good food. While eating it, a sailor came
begging to the door, saying he had been shipwrecked, and lost everything, on his return voyage from India. It occurred to Mrs. Worrell
that he might understand the language of the
poor girl, and, on bringing them together, he
said she spoke the Malay language, and he understood it a little, and interpreted her story




84     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
thus: "She was a native of one of the Malay
Islands, but somehow or other had become a
servant in an English family in Calcutta, and
accompanied them on their return to England.
The captain of the vessel fell in love with her,
and when they got into port, she was so afraid
of his carrying her off, that she stripped off her
clothes and swam ashore. At the first house she
went to, the people clothed her as you see. The
Malay women swim and dive as well as the men."
This history, with the interesting appearance
of the girl, so touched the benevolent heart of
Mrs. Worrell, that she resolved to give her a
home for the present, and sent off the sailor well
paid for serving as her interpreter. The sons of
Mrs. Worrell were not so easily satisfied as to
the story of this new inmate, and even suggested
that she might be an impostor, or the agent of a
gang of thieves, all which suppositions their
mother indignantly rejected. There was in the
house a volume of costumes of the Malays, and
on showing them to the stranger, her face brightened up, and she made signs that these were her
people; and when she came to the costume of a
Malay princess, she was much excited, and indicated that it was herself. The dress was formed
of a quantity of fine white muslin, with a rich
sash of various colors round the waist, drapery
hanging from the shoulders nearly to the feet, a




PRINCESS CARABOO.           85
curious head-dress of red muslin, with a bunch
of peacock's feathers sticking up on one side. A
pair of sandals completed the costume. Mrs.
Worrell furnished all the materials for her strange
guest to dress herself in this manner, and in a
few days she was introduced to Mrs. Worrell's
friends as the Princess Caraboo, and was allowed
to associate with the family as an equal. Her
dark complexion and shining black hair, large
lustrous eyes and black eyebrows, gave her a
very Oriental appearance, and her costume was
very becoming. It was soon known that there
was a Malay princess staying at Mrs. Worrell's,
and her door was besieged with visitors, curious
to see this novelty, and all went away satisfied
that she was really the Princess Caraboo. She
bore being stared at, and talked about, with such
dignity and propriety as astonished all who saw
her. Mrs. Worrell observed that her not understanding English helped her to bear it. Many
were so charmed with her as to think her a great
beauty, and all extolled her grace and delicacy.
In her morning walks with her hostess, she
would surprise her by running up a tree like a,
cat, or diving into a pond, or turning a somerset
on the road,- strange pranks for a drawingroom guest, but supposed to be in character for
a Malay princess.  Caraboo was requested to
write her language, which she did, and the man



86     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
uscript was sent to Oxford, to ascertain what
language it was, and found to be unknown. All
those circumstances were told in the papers, and
people came in crowds to see this wonderful foreigner, and poor Mrs. Worrell was getting tired
of her lion, when, on going to breakfast one morning, Caraboo was not to be found. The poor girl
had perceived that her kind hostess was worried,
and determined to relieve her of her presence;
so she stripped herself of all the fine clothes and
trinkets that had been given to her, and, putting
on the old clothes in which she first entered the
house, she ran away at early dawn, and for several days eluded the pursuit of her kind friend,
who could not bear the idea of her becoming
again a destitute beggar.
She was at last found, and brought back to
her luxurious home, and made more of than
ever, her conduct having proved her honesty
and delicacy. Various were the opinions entertained of this wonderful stranger; sarcastic paragraphs in the newspapers ridiculed all her admirers as the dupes of an impostor; spirited
defences of her were written, and it was observed
that it was only those who had never seen her
that doubted the reality of her character. All
who came within reach of her personal attractions were firm believers in the Princess Caraboo.
Worn out by living in this state of continual




PRINCESS CARABOO.          87
exhibition, her health failed, and she was confined
to her bed in a high fever. Several physicians
attended her, and came believing her an impostor,
and that she understood English as well as they
did; so they determined to put her to the proof,
by narrowly watching her countenance when
they spoke to each other of her dangerous illness, and that nothing could save her life. They
said all this, and much more, without producing
the least change in her countenance, and then
they became believers in the Malay Princess.
The fever did not give way to their treatment,
and fears were really entertained for her life.
But she took the case into her own hands, and
eluding the vigilance of her nurse, she ran up
into the garret and plunged into a large tank of
cold water. After the whole family had searched
for her, there she was found, cured of her fever,
for from that time she recovered.
So many persons were disappointed of seeing
her, during her illness, that fewer now came to
the house; but still the controversy concerning
her continued in the newspapers; and one middleaged man of the world, who prided himself on his
knowledge of the female mind, said he knew he
could detect her as an impostor, if he could be
alone with her for half an hour.
The challenge was accepted by Mrs. Worrell.
He came to Bristol, he had his tUte-d-tdte with




88     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Caraboo, he tried all his arts, and failed to prove
her to be anything but a Malay girl who did not
understand English. He said he had flattered
her and made love to her; he had acted the fatherly friend, and assured her that he knew her
true history, and that she understood every word
he said; and all this did not change the expression of her face from that of stupid wonderment
at his behavior. He ended by saying, "I am
sure she thinks me either a mountebank or a
fool, I don't know which."
Caraboo had many invitations to visit the
neighboring gentry, but she declined them all,
and only accepted one from a celebrated physician
in Bath, who shared Mrs. Worrell's faith in her
as a Princess, and wished to show her to his
friends. The poor girl was so worn out when she
arrived at his house that she retired early; and
a party of young ladies who called to see her
were so disappointed to hear that she was in bed,
that they begged leave to see her asleep. Having
waited till she was supposed to sleep soundly,
they ventured into her room. One hand hung
carelessly over the edge of the bed, and her visitors were so interested in her, that each one
kneeled down and kissed it. Her visit to Bath
was short, for she was weary of being exhibited.
Soon after her return to Bristol, she was sitting
with Mrs. Worrell by the drawing-room window,




PRINCESS CARABOO.           89
which commanded a view of the avenue, and saw
m woman coming up who filled her with alarm.
She screamed, threw herself on her knees before
Mrs. Worrell, and exclaimed, in good English,
" 0, Mrs. Worrell, hear me first."  To hear her
speak so upset Mrs. Worrell; she nearly fainted,
and could hear no more. The structure which
she had been weeks in rearing was suddenly demolished, and she felt as if the solid earth were
giving way under her.
Caraboo's real story was this. She was born a
Gypsy, and after leading their vagrant life till she
was seventeen, she struck out a new path for herself, and became a house-servant. She was clever,
active, and faithful, and went out-with a family
to the East Indies, and, after various vicissitudes,
found herself reduced to beggary in the streets of
Bristol. This was just after the fall of Napoleon,
and the peace between France and England, which
brought over many French beggars, and she
observed that they received more alms than she
did. So she tried to make herself look foreign,
and pretended not to speak English. On first
trying this she wandered as far as Mrs. Worrell's,
and we have seen what happened there. It remains to be explained that the sailor knew nothing of the Malay language; but having said he
did, and supposing that her gibberish was that
language, he felt obliged to pretend to interpret




90    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
it, and she, hearing the story that he made up for
her, adopted it, never imagining all that it entailed upon her.  When she ran away it was
because she was tired of acting a part, but was
forced back into it. When she heard the physicians say she would die, it did not disturb her,
for she was tired of life. When the man of
fashion had his interview with her, she was fully
prepared for him by having heard it talked of
before her, but she certainly had a wonderful
command of countenance. She said nothing had
ever tried her so much as those ladies in Bath
kissing her hand; she came very near bursting
out laughing.
All whom she had deceived were grievously
mortified, and some were enraged; but Mrs.
Worrell, who had a right to feel worse than anybody, behaved in the kindest manner to her poor
protegee. She was conscious of having done much
to force upon her the part she had acted, and she
kindly shielded her from all unpleasant consequences. The Malay costume was changed for
a decent English dress, and a plan was laid to
send her out to a Moravian settlement in the
United States. The manager of the Bristol theatre
wished to engage her as an actress, and intended
to have her story made into a farce, and that she
should act Caraboo on his stage. To this Mrs.
Worrell would not listen for a moment, and the




PRINCESS CARABOO.          91
gratitude of the Gypsy girl making her conform to
the wishes of her kind friend, she went to America. I have still to explain why the sight of that
woman in the avenue so affected Caraboo. She
recognized her as the person in whose house she
had passed a night, and to whom she owed the
price of her lodging. A particular description of
the beggar-girl, as she first appeared to Mrs.
Worrell, had been put in the newspaper, and the
lodging-house keeper recognized in it her runaway lodger, and traced her to her luxurious
home.
Since writing the above, I have seen the following paragraph: —
" English papers mention the death at Bristol
of an importer of leeches, who, when a young and
prepossessing girl, had for a short time created a
great sensation in the literary and fashionable
circles of Bath and other places, under the false
title and rank of' the Princess Caraboo.' "




92     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XI.
THE ENGLISH STAGE. - MRS. JORDAN.
W  HEN I was young, I used to hear a very
old gentleman boast of having seen Garrick perform, and express some contempt for all
other actors. Now that I am old, I congratulate
myself on having seen all three of the Kembles,
Mrs. Siddons and her two brothers, act all their
best parts, previous to Mrs. Siddons retiring from
the stage. I also saw the debut of Miss O'Neil
on the London boards, and witnessed the triumph
of her natural acting over the artificial, conventional manner of the Kemble school. At first, a
London audience did not know what to make of
an actress whose style was entirely different from
that of Mrs. Siddons; but when her pathos drew
tears from all eyes, and her emotion stirred every
heart, old prejudices gave way, and the applause
was rapturous. I saw her in the play of " The
Stranger," three nights in succession, and could
see the growing enthusiasm of the audience for
her new style of acting. Her career on the stage
was short, for she married well and retired to
private life.




THE ENGLISH STAGE.          93
Her marriage happened in this way.   There
was at Kilkenny, in Ireland, a company of amateur actors, who performed for a week every year,
for the benefit of the poor; and as it was deemed
highly improper, in those days, for ladies to take
parts with them, they hired professional actresses.
Miss O'Neil was invited to act there; she consented, and gave her services to her countrymen.
Two brothers of a noble family were among the
best performers, and they acted the principal male
characters to Miss O'Neil's female ones. These
plays were very fashionable, and people came from
far and near to attend them. When they were
over, one of those brothers sought an interview
with the other, and said he was about to tell him
something which he knew he would object to very
strongly, - that he meant to marry Miss O'Neil;
she had accepted his offer, and nothing should
prevent his making her his wife. The brother
replied, " I have but one objection to your doing
so, and that is, that I meant to marry her myself."
The friends of these young men were at first
opposed to the match; but the excellent qualities
of Miss O'Neil, and her judicious conduct, overcame their dislike, and she became an honored
and loved member of the family.
Very different was the career of the unhappy
Mrs. Jordan. Comedy was her forte, and she was
as natural in it as Miss O'Neil was in tragedy.




94     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
She drew crowded houses, and fascinated the
public by her gayety and humor, her sprightliness
and grace, her pretty face and delicate form.
The Duke of Clarence, one of the handsome sons
of George III., fell in love with her, when she
was at the height of her fame and in the bloom
of youth. After a long series of flattering attentions, he succeeded in carrying her off to his fine
country-house in the environs of London, and
made her the mistress of himself and his establishment. For several years she continued her
professional career, and paid her lover's debts
with the emolument. Her influence made him a
domestic character, and a large family of children attached him to his home, and made the
union seem like that of a married pair. After
having several children she left the stage and
devoted herself to the government of her family
and the education of her daughters, who were
most carefully brought up. One of her regulations was that they should never look into a
newspaper.
I happened to be visiting at a country-seat,
near that of the Duke of Clarence, and where the
young ladies of the family were taking French
lessons from the same master who was teaching
the Misses Fitz-Clarence, and we used to ask
questions about them, and sometimes we read the
French letters they wrote to him as exercises, and




MRS. JORDAN.             95
which he brought away to correct. I remember
one passage in those letters, wherein the writer
begs to be excused for a very short letter, because
she is writing in her father's sick-room, and she
is afraid the scratching of her pen will disturb
him. These juvenile productions gave us an insight into the domestic life of the retired actress;
we could but admire her well-regulated household, and we saw what a good mother she was to
her numerous children, who all grew up to be
fine men and women. The boys were put into the
army and navy, and the girls made grand matches,
which, however, they could never have done if
their mother had not been so basely used by their
father that she felt obliged to quit his roof.
Mrs. Jordan had lived so long with the Duke,
and had been so faithful to him, that she felt as
if she were legally wedded to him. What, then,
must have been her dismay and indignation, when
she saw in the newspapers an account of his being
a candidate for the hand of the wealthiest heiress
in England, Miss Tilnay Long Wellesley Pole!
She would not have believed it, if the whole correspondence had not been given. There was the
offer of the man whom she considered her husband, and the lady's refusal..
Many women, in her position, would have
swallowed the insult, and kept her place at the
head of such an establishment; but on finding




96     RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
that the tie which she had considered sacred was
contemned by the Duke, she left his roof and
went forth penniless, to earn her living by her
former profession. It was this spirited action of
Mrs. Jordan, and the shameful conduct of the
Duke, which gave her such popularity on her reappearance at Covent Garden Theatre. Every
expression in the plays she acted, which could
be made to apply to her situation, brought down
the house and showed John Bull's strong sense
of injustice. But this could not last long. She
was no longer young; she was enormously fat,
and this spoiled her for a comic actress, so she was
obliged to leave the stage, and all I know of her,
after this, is, that she died in France, so poor as
to have a pauper's funeral.
How her children could suffer this, if they
knew of her poverty, I cannot imagine; perhaps
her disinterested love for them made her keep
them ignorant of her whereabouts and her necessities. She may have acted the part of the fabled
pelican, and sacrificed herself for the good of her
young. If so, she had some reward, even in this
life, for her leaving them entirely changed their
position in the world. They were immediately
noticed by the royal family, received at court,
and sought in marriage by the highest nobility.




BATH.                97
CHAPTER       XII.
BATH. -BEAU NASH. - THE B-     FAMILY.
T   HOUGH separated by a week's journey from
our London. friends, we had frequent opportunities of meeting. They would come to see us
in Wales, and we would visit them in the metropolis. Sometimes we spent a few weeks in the city
of Bath, which was rather more than half-way to
London, and there we were sure to meet some of
our dearest friends, who made a point of drinking
the chalybeate waters there every winter. Bath
was then unlike every other city; it was built for
the benefit of invalids, who came there on account of the hot mineral springs, and the municipal arrangements were made with regard to them.
Many of the streets were paved all over with
large flag-stones, over which no carriages were
allowed to pass. There were several hundred
sedan chairs, carried by tall porters, dressed in
uniform, which were numbered and registered at
an office, and obliged to be kept exquisitely clean;
numerous rules were made to regulate the behavior and the fares of the chairmen. Wheelchairs, too, were on the same footing. Very large
5                      o




98    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
public baths were maintained by the city for the
use of the sick. In the centre, the boiling hot
springs bubbled up, and all around the sides were
the dressing-rooms for the bathers, who frequently
spent hours in the bath, which was shallow enough
on one side to admit of stone benches, on which
to sit with the water up to the neck. I have seen
a man so crippled by rheumatism as to be carried
into the bath, and after he had been in a few
minutes, he could walk about. All the bathers
wore dresses, and men and women went in together.
One great amusement of Bath was the Pumproom, an immense hall with an arched roof.
There was a gallery at one end for the band to
play in, and at the side, opposite the main entrance, was a marble counter, enclosing the faucets that supplied the company with the mineral
waters, and a woman who filled and refilled the
glasses. Between each draught, the invalid was
ordered to walk half an hour, and those under
this treatment took the waters before breakfast
and before dinner, and walked up and down
the room between each glass. Before breakfast
they were without music and without lookers-on;
but from two till four o'clock the band played
and the room was full, being frequented by many
besides the invalids. It was a very gay scene;
all the fashion and beauty of the season met




BEAU NASH.               99
there, to walk and talk, to discuss the news of
the day and make arrangements for the evening
amusements. Two sets of very handsome assembly rooms were provided by the city, and subscription balls were held in them every week.
Here, too, the authorities interfered for the good
of the invalid: no dancing was allowed after
eleven o'clock, and this made people willing to
begin at eight.  Besides all these peculiar arrangements, there was one still more uncommon,
and that was the appointment of a Master of
Ceremonies, who continued from year to year to
preside over these balls, and did all in his power
to promote the pleasure of the visitors.  On
arriving in Bath, the head of the family was exp     pected to call on the Master of Ceremonies, and
leave his card and a guinea fee. Then this call
was returned, and all the members of the family
were introduced. One man distinguished himself
in this walk of life, and made his very equivocal
calling to be respected. Beau Nash, as he was
called, was a handsome man, with elegant manners, and sufficient confidence in himself not to
be put down by the insolence of fashion.  He
was often ill-treated, and sometimes insulted;
but he never appeared to be disturbed by it. He
presided over the balls, and was bound to find
partners for all the young ladies whose fathers
had called on him. This was no easy task, when




100   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the exquisites of the day voted dancing to be a
bore.  He was one evening trying to persuade
a knot of young men to take partners, and praising the young girls who wanted to dance, when
one of them said, " Very well, Nash; trot'em by,
and let us see them."
One ball, near the beginning of the season, was
made more elegant than any other; certain things
were required, even in the dress of the ladies;
and the ball opened with the stately and graceful
dance called the Minuet de la Cour, performed by
the Master of Ceremonies with any young lady
who was coming out into the world for the first
time. If there were several debutantes, he danced
with each, and that was called coming out.
It had been fashionable to wear lace aprons in
full dress, and all sorts of muslin aprons at other
times; but they were no longer the mode, and
they were forbidden at this ball. A very fashionable Duchess was about to enter the room with a
beautiful point-lace apron on. The doorkeeper
told her she could not go in with that apron.
She insisted she would, but the man would not
permit it; so she sent for Mr. Nash, saying she
knew he would not object to such an apron as
that. He came, and he did object so strongly
that the Duchess was obliged to submit; so she
took off the offending lace, and very goodnaturedly threw it at Mr. Nash, saying, "There!




THE B- FAMILY.             101
take that for your pains." It was a gift of great
value, and he returned it the next morning; but
she sent it back, saying she meant him to keep it.
On a lady's behaving very rudely to him, he
said, " Madam, what do you take me for? "  I
take you for the very last link in the scale of
gentility." Such cuts as these were hard to bear,
but he took them very philosophically. The city
authorities were so grateful for his services, that
they put up a full-length picture of him in the
Pump-room. It happened to be placed between
two busts, one of Sir Isaac Newton, the other of
some distinguished man, I forget who; but a wit
wrote these lines on seeing them:
" This picture, placed those busts between,
Gives satire all its strength;
Wisdom and worth are little seen,
But folly at full length."
One family, in the habit of going every year
to Bath, failed to meet us there; and as their detention at home was occasioned by some curious
circumstances, I will relate them  here.  Mr.
B — was a wealthy merchant of London, and
the happy father of eleven children, when he lost
his lovely and exemplary wife. A dear friend of
hers had become the governess of her children,
and on her death-bed she enjoined it on her husband never to part from Miss II —. His eldest
daughter, though only eleven years old, took the




102    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
head of his table, and, with the help of their good
old housekeeper, she acted as mistress of the
house. When she grew up, her father removed
his family to a magnificent country seat in one of
the most beautiful counties of England, and she
enjoyed organizing the establishment on a large
scale. With plenty of good servants, her housekeeping was nothing but a pleasure to her; and
she was so happy as the mistress of her father's
house, that she refused numerous proposals of
marriage, and remained single to a mature age.
Her sisters grew up and married, and the governess was no longer needed in the family; but
Mr. B-    remembered his wife's injunction, and
would not part from her. It was evident that
she had become essential to the happiness of their
father. When ill, no one was allowed to nurse
him but Miss H —-; when well, she was his
companion; and after tea, which she always
poured out, she spent the evening with him in
his library, and the young folks saw no more of
them that night.
On the occasion of one of the younger daughters being married, a very large family party was
assembled under Mr. B -'s roof.  They had
been several days collecting, and he had been,more than usual among them, owing to his companion, Miss H, being absent on a visit to a
widowed brother with a large family of children.




THE B     FAMILY.         103
The very night before the wedding, Mr. Breceived a letter from that brother, saying that
he had great need of the presence of his sister,
and, as she could no longer be necessary to Mr.
B's children, he wished her to remain with
him. This she refused to do in such a manner
as led him to suspect that she was secretly married, and, if that were the case, he would never
let her leave his roof but as the acknowledged
wife of Mr. B. Thunderstruck by the contents of this letter, he sent for his eldest daughter,
and laid it before her. She read it, and said,
"Of course Miss H-I    is more needed there
than here, and you will consent to her living
with her brother."  " I cannot," faltered out the
father, " for I have been married to her twelve
years."
Miss B-   sank upon a sofa, and nearly fainted.
That proud man, who had always governed his
family with an iron rule, now humbled himself to
his child, and begged her to forgive him for what
he had done. He assured her that it was his
consideration for her that made him conceal his
marriage. He expected her to accept one of her
many offers, and when she left his house for her
own, he meant to place his wife at the head of
his establishment.
When Miss B —     had sufficiently recovered
from the shock of this discovery, she assured her
father that none of his children would have ob



104   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
jected to his marrying whom he pleased, but they
could never cease to regret his having led such a
life of deception and concealment. He acknowledged his error, and expressed great contrition,
and asked her what he must now do. She requested him to keep his secret till after the wedding, the next morning; and when the bride and
groom were off on their wedding tour, he could
tell it to all his other children, and then set off
in his own carriage, and bring his wife home.
" She will not take your place, my dear child;
you must still be the mistress of the house."
" No, father, that cannot be; she must take the
place that belongs to her as your wife. Now, let
me go back to my company, and let them perceive
nothing of what has happened." She returned
to the drawing-room, but such a change had come
over her fine face, that her brothers came to her,
one after the other, to ask what was the matter.
She said she would tell them the next day, and
begged them not to ask any questions now.
All the arrangements of the wedding rested on
her shoulders, and she went through with it well,
notwithstanding the painful secret that lay so
heavy at her heart, and the married pair went off
quite unconscious that anything remarkable had
occurred at home.
All the brothers and sisters were requested to
remain a few hours after the wedding was over;
and when reassembled in the drawing-room, that




THE B   - FAMILY.          105
unhappy father entered, as a culprit before his
children, and disclosed to them his marriage, calling upon his eldest son as a witness of the ceremony. This was an added surprise, but left no
doubt on their minds as to the validity of the
marriage, That son now came forward to reconcile the children to their father, and make him
feel more comfortable before them. He encouraged him to start at once for D-, and to
bring his wife home, whilst they were all there to
receive her, and install her as mistress of the
house. Mr. B —'s laughters had often been
made uneasy by observing the great intimacy of
their father and Miss H —, and the servants
thought so ill of it as to treat her with disrespect.
Miss B     had often consulted her eldest brother about it, and asked him to persuade his father
to let Miss II-   depart; but he made light
of his sister's alarms, and thought Miss H —
had better stay; the old gentleman needed her
care when ill, and her company when well. The
seeming indifference of this brother to what pained
her so much, always puzzled Miss B; but
now all was explained, and though she felt like a
sovereign queen about to abdicate, she was relieved of many old annoyances. She wished her
brother to tell the servants what had happened,
but he thought she would do it best, as it was
she who was about to give up the reins of gov5*




106    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
ernment.   So she assembled them, fifteen in
number, in the housekeeper's room, and, having
told the facts of the case, she exhorted them to
treat with respect and obedience the lawful wife
of their master.
The next evening their father would return with
his wife. Just before he arrived, Miss B —
took a turn on a terrace-walk behind the house,
to cool her head and draw a long breath; but she
was driven back into the house by the sound of
the church bells in the village, ringing out a merry peal, in honor of the married pair, as they
drove through it. The carriage drove up to the
door, and the eldest son handed out Mrs. B,saluted her kindly, and conducted her into the
room where all the relations awaited her. She was
overcome to tears, but gratefully received their
welcome, and the kisses usually bestowed on her
after an absence.
Miss B-    went abroad for six months, and
in that time Mrs. B —   became thoroughly initiated into her new position, and did the honors of
her house admirably. The neighboring gentry
called upon her, and the married sons and daughters, with their children, visited there as much as
ever, and were as well received.
Miss B-    told me, that on her return to the
paternal mansion, she felt as if she had been
dead and was alive again, and found her place
entirely filled up.




IRELAND.              107
CHAPTER        XIII.
IRELAND. -SIR HARRY BROWN HAYES. — BRENAN.
W    HEN I was a girl in my teens, my parents took me with them for a tour il
Ireland. The beautiful scenery, the wit and humor of the lower classes, and the hospitality and
kindness which we received, made our tour a succession of delightful visits, whilst the peculiar
customs of the people, and thrilling narratives
of those who had suffered in the late rebellion,
amused and interested usmuch. No good hotel,
nor decent road-side inn, was to be found anywhere, except in Dublin. The nobility and gentry
expected to entertain all respectable travellers,
and were glad to do so, for the sake of their company. We therefore went from one country-seat
to another, escorted by part of each family we
left to that we were going to, and by the time
that we reached the Lakes of Killarney, our party
of three was augmented to thirteen. There we
experienced the miseries of a bad inn; and there
we learned that it was considered necessary to
look after the safety of a young lady, as abduction was the fashion of the day. My room must




108    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
be inside that of my parents, with no door but that
between the two rooms, and the window must be
securely fastened. We were told that there was
a club of young men who were sworn to assist one
another in carrying off any girl they fancied.
It was hard for us to believe this, and my father treated it as a joke upon travellers, until we
were visiting an old friend of his, Mr. Penrose,
and learned from him that his niece had been
carried off, by a stratagem, from the very house
we were then in. He gave us the following account of it. Miss Penrose was on a visit to her
uncle, whose residence was several miles from
that of her mother. One evening, about dusk,
a carriage drove up to the door, and a note
was sent in to Miss Penrose, informing her that
her mother was suddenly taken ill, and had
sent a carriage to bring her home.  She did
not know the equipage or the coachman, but
supposed they were hired for the occasion, and
went off in it, nothing doubting. Absorbed by
the news of her mother's illness, and prevented
by the shades of night from observing the road,
shle had proceeded several miles before she remarked that it was very rough, and that she saw
no familiar objects. She called to the coachman,
said that he had mistaken the road, and must
turn back and find the right one. He pulled up,
and the carriage was at once surrounded by men




SIR HARRY BROWN HAYES.       109
on horseback, one of whom dismounted, entered
the carriage, seated himself beside her, and ordered the coachman to drive on.
Astonished beyond all power of expression, she
drew back amazed, unable in the twilight to
read the face of the intruder. He endeavored to
convince her that she was safe under his protection, that he was very much in love with her, and
intended honorable marriage.  He introduced
himself as Sir Henry Brown Hayes, and said he
was carrying her to his country-seat, where a
clergyman would be in readiness to marry them
at once. He ran on in this strain very volubly
till they reached his castle, but she hardly heard
what he said; she thought only how she could
escape from his power. She attempted to let
down the glass and scream, but he would not let
her do that, and he assured her it would be in
vain, for they were far from any human habitation but his own, where they would soon arrive.
She was received with obsequious civility by
the housekeeper, whom she saw at once to be the
willing instrument of her master's iniquity. Sir
Henry led her into a dining-room, where a supper was prepared, and soon half a dozen young
men, one of whom had a clerical appearance, followed her into the room. She scanned their
faces, but found no hope for her in any of them.
Sir Henry acted the gay gallant. He would have




110    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the marriage first, and then the wedding feast.
Miss Penrose found strength enough to protest
against his doings, to declare she would never
marry him, and to appeal to the honor of the
men around her. It was all in vain; her distress was met only by coarse jokes, and assurances that they were sworn to assist Sir Harry in
carrying her off, and marrying her. They made
her stand up before the clergyman or priest, I
forget which it was. He asked for the ring, and
said he could not marry without it. Sir Harry
had not provided one, but he took that of his
housekeeper, and the wedding service was begun.
Miss Penrose caught at the idea that there could
be no marriage without a ring, and when Sir
Henry was about to put it on her finger, she
seized and broke it in two, throwing the fragments
away with an air of triumph which provoked Sir
Harry, but was laughed at by his companions.
He despatched a messenger on horseback, in
search of another ring, and then all sat down to
supper. Even their unhappy captive ate all she
could, by way of keeping up her strength and
courage; but she would drink nothing but water,
for fear of being drugged. When allowed to retire
for the night, she was locked into her room; but
she piled up before the door all the furniture she
could move. What her feelings and reflections
were that night, we never learned; but the next




SIR HARRY BROWN HAYES.       111
morning, before the messenger arrived with the
ring, her friends came to her rescue, and with
sufficient force to capture and carry off to jail
Sir Henry and two of his accomplices.
Mliss Penrose was an heiress, and her abduction
made a great sensation throughout the country.
Her courage and presence of mind were highly
praised, and she was the heroine of the day; but
she was of a modest and retiring disposition, and
shrank from all notoriety. She dreaded appearing in court, as she knew she must, when the
trial of Sir Henry Brown Hayes came on.
He had powerful friends, and the trial was delayed in order to give time for his beard to grow,
as he hoped, by disguising himself, to prevent his
being identified by Miss Penrose. He not only
changed his own appearance so entirely that his
best friend did not know him, but he made one
of his accomplices, who resembled him in size and
complexion, wear the same clothes that he did
when he ran away with the heiress, and simulate
him as much as possible. At last the trial came
on. The court was crammed full, and Miss Penrose was confronted with the abductor and his
accomplice. A wand was put into her hand, and
she was required to lay it on the head of Sir
Henry Brown Hayes. She was startled by the
change in his appearance; but after looking earnestly at him, she laid the wand on the right
head.




112    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
He was convicted, and sentenced to be transported to Botany Bay for seven years. Miss Penrose did not long survive this severe trial of her
nerves.
Mr. Penrose had a charming residence on the
banks of the beautiful river Lee, six miles above
its entrance into the Bay of Cork, and not far
from the city. He had a spacious stone house,
with ample grounds around it, extensive stables
and carriage-house, but all in a dilapidated state;
yet at that very time he was building a picture
and sculpture gallery. Such were the inconsistencies often seen in Ireland. The inside of the
house had not been repaired or painted for many
years, the banister of the principal staircase was
falling to pieces, and one of the family said, as we
came down among the debris, " I am afraid you
are thinking of Castle Rackrent," and so indeed
we were.
Another interesting event in our Irishl tour, was
passing over a mountain, near Cashel, which was
infested by a famous highwayman named Brenan,
who was represented as such a hero of romance,
that I rather hoped we might be robbed by him.
He was a deserter from the English army, and his
life depended on his keeping out of reach of the
clutches of the law. He lived, with his wife, at
the foot of a mountain, over which passed the
high road, and every part of which was so well




BRENAN.              113
known to him that he could hide himself in places
inaccessible to his pursuers. Soldiers and civilians were always endeavoring to catch him.
One traveller armed himself with a blunderbus, and swore he would not be robbed by Brenan, but if attacked by him, he would bring him,
dead or alive, to Cashel. He was in a post-chaise
with the windows all open, and the blunderbus
stood in a corner before him. He was on the
mountain road frequented by Brenan, and looking out earnestly for him on one side of the road,
when a hand on the other side seized his blunderbus, and aimed it at him. Brenan ordered him
to throw his pistols and his purse out of the window, or he was a dead man. The traveller obeyed,
and then the highwayman said to him, " Now go
to Cashel, and tell your friends that though you
came out expressly to shoot poor Brenan, he has
spared your life."
Two young men, out shooting wild-fowl, met
Brenan in the garb of a laborer, but suspected
who he was, and told him to walk before them
into Cashel, or they would shoot him. After a
little remonstrance, and trying to convince them
he was not Brenan, he did as he was bid. His
fate now seemed certain, but his wife's cleverness
saved him. She saw from a distance his danger,
and putting a pair of loaded pistols into a basket,
and covering them over with a white cloth, as if
H




114    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
it were butter or cheese she was carrying to
market, she met her husband. He said, " Hullo,
Goody, what have you got to sell?" seized his
pistols, and being close to his enemies, he put
the muzzles to their breasts, and told them to
throw down their guns, and his wife fired them
off. "Go," said Brenan, and tell your friends
that Brenan has a good wife." She saved him
once when he was caught in bed, by clinging to
his pursuer, whilst he ran off. He never enriched
himself, but made friends of the poor, by bestowing on them the money he took from the wealthy.
He was at last taken by a regiment of soldiers
being distributed around the base of the mountain which he frequented, and marching up its
sides, closing ranks as they went. He retreated
to the top, and buried himself under a pile of
furze; suspecting he was there, but not liking to
handle such prickly stuff, they thrust their bayonets into it, and he received numerous stabs before he called out and surrendered.
Some noble traits in Brenan had interested a
member of Parliament in his favor, and he was
negotiating with those in authority for his pardon,
and for liberty to join the English army then
fighting the French in Spain; but before this
could be arranged, the poor fellow was executed as a highway robber.
My father had visited Ireland in 1797, before




EARL CAMDEN.            115
the rebellion broke out there, and had felt much
pity for the unhappy peasantry of that country.
He thought the measures of the English government were cruel and unjust in the extreme.
Being a guest at one of the viceroy's grand dinners, the state of Ireland was discussed in a manner very distasteful to him, and he was called
upon, as an impartial spectator, to give his opinions, which he declined doing; but, on being
urged to do so by Lord Camden (the viceroy),
he said he would be happy to. talk with him on
the state of Ireland, if he would give him a private interview. This the Earl agreed to do, and
a time was named for it. My father had not
grown up in America without imbibing ideas of
justice and liberty, which were outraged by the
treatment which the Irish were receiving at the
hands of the English civil and military authorities, and he spoke out his mind fully and fearlessly to Lord Camden, a most narrow-minded
old Tory. When my father said that the conduct
of the military was enough to drive the people
into rebellion, the Viceroy replied, that was exactly what they wished to do; they wished to bring
matters to a crisis, and then they could deal with
it peremptorily. " If that is your policy," said
my father, " you are certainly taking the right
means to accomplish your purpose"; and with
these words he closed the interview. The rebel



116    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
lion broke out soon after, and proved a scene of
bloodshed and cruelty on both sides fearful to
hear of. Our visit to Ireland was ten years after
the conclusion of that terrible civil war, and
though it only lasted eight weeks, the country
was but just recovering from its consequences,
and every family had its tragic story to tell of
peril and suffering. My father was never tired
of hearing them, but they harrowed up my feelings so much that I rather avoided them, and
have but few laid up in my mind. I do, however,
remember being at a country residence, where one
of the family, a girl of my own age, told me that
her parents narrowly escaped assassination by the
defeat of the rebels in a fight near their place.
A man servant, who had faithfully served them
many years, was observed to be much disturbed;
he was seen shedding tears, and going continually to the gate, at the end of their avenue,
to look out for news from some passer by.
When questioned, he would not tell what troubled
him; but before night, news came of the defeat
of the rebels, and then he cried for joy, and told
his master that he knew of the impending battle,
and that the rebel leader intended, if victorious,
to come there and murder the family and take
possession of the house. When asked why he
did not warn them of their danger, he said he
could not, without breaking his oath as a United
Irishman.




VINEGAR HILL.           117
I also remember being shown a man who had
been dead and buried three days, but came to
life again, and told me his own story. He was a
loyal man of Eniscorthy, and wandered heedlessly into the camp of the rebels, on a height called
Vinegar Hill, near the town. He was shot by a
sentry for not having the countersign, his body
was thrown into an old ruined windmill, and a
little earth thrown over it. His wife, hearing he
was killed, sent a request for his body by an idiot
well known in the town. Being refused, she then
/went herself, taking the idiot with her to help
carry her dead husband. She succeeded, after
much importunity, in getting possession of the
body, and carrying it home. As they took him
up a narrow winding stairway, his wound pained
him, and he uttered a groan, which so frightened
them that they let him fall, and that shock revived him. His wound was dressed, and he recovered to tell the story to every one who would
listen to it.




118    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XIV.
MISS EDGEWORTH.
MY last chapter on Ireland recalls another
tour in that country, made with my hus
band, twenty years later in my life. We arrived
in Dublin, accompanied by a young friend, and
sent off our letter of introduction to Miss Edgeworth, with one from me proposing to spend a
day with her, if convenient and agreeable. To
this we received the following very gracious reply: 
EDGEWORTHTOWN, September 3, 1836.
DEAR MADAM: -I hasten to assure you and
Professor Farrar that we feel highly honored and
gratified by your kind intention of paying us a
visit. Mrs. Edgeworth desires me to say, that we
shall be at home all next week, and we shall be
most happy to receive you, and your young friend
Mr. W   -, any day after the fifth which may be
most convenient to you. We say after the fifth,
because on the fifth my sister (Harriet), Mrs.
Butler, and her husband, the Rev. Mr. Butler,
will come to us, and independently of the pleasure they. will have, I am sure, in your society, I




MISS EDGEWORTH.           119
own I wish that you should become acquainted
with them, especially as we are unlucky at this
moment, in not having any of my brothers at
home. My brother-in-law, Mr. Butler, is, as you
will find, a man of literature and learning, besides being all that you will like in other respects,
from the truth and rectitude and simplicity of
his character.
I am much obliged to you for the letters you
were so good as to enclose to me. Of all our
friends in Boston and Cambridge, we shall, I
hope, have time to inquire further and to converse.
There was only one thing in your letter which
did not give us pleasure; and we trust that after
your arrival, and after you have had some hours
to reflect, and a night quietly to sleep upon it, you
will repent and recant, and give up your cruel
purpose of giving us only one day. Mrs. Edgeworth will remonstrate with you, I think, more
effectually than I can, and in the mean time I
promise to allow you till the morning after your
arrival to become sufficiently acquainted with
the ways of the house and family, before I turn
to you, as I shall (I warn you) at breakfast, for
your ultimatum.
I am, dear Madam, (for the present,)
Your much obliged and grateful
MARIA EDGEWORTH.




120    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
P. S. It must increase my interest in making
your acquaintance, my dear Mrs. Farrar, to know
that you are sister to Mr. Benjamin Rotch, whose
talents I with great reason admire, and for whose
kindness and agreeable letters I have equally
great reason to be grateful.
The cordiality and frankness of this letter
made us all desirous of visiting the writer. We
were much struck with the manner in which Mrs.
Edgeworth was mentioned and made of importance as the lady of the house, when the whole
place was the property of Miss Edgeworth, and she
was at least thirty years older than her step-mother. Mr. Edgeworth had been dead several years,
and his son had become so embarrassed in his
affairs as to be obliged to sell his patrimonial estate; and to prevent its passing into the hands
of strangers, Miss Edgeworth had bought it, and
made her step-mother mistress of the establishment, whilst she lived with her as a daughter.
They were on the very best terms, each admiring
and loving the other. Another member of the
family was Mrs. Mary Sneyd, a very aged lady
of the old school, and sister to Honoria Sneyd,
who refused the hand of Major Andre, and became the wife of Richard Lovel Edgeworth. The
unhappy fate of the gallant Major is well known;
but few persons now living ever read the monody




MISS EDGEWORTH.            121
written on his death by Miss Seward, in which she
makes her hero say,
" Honoria lost, I woo a sterner bride;
The armed Bellona calls me to her side."
It was a great pleasure to me to see the sister
of two of Mr. Edgeworth's wives; one belonging
to the same period, and dressed in the same style,
as the lovely Honoria. She did not appear till
lunch time, when we found her seated at the table, in a wheel-chair, on account of her lameness.
She reminded me of the pictures of the court
beauties of the time of Louis XIV. Her dress
was truly elegant, and very elaborate. Her white
hair had the effect of powder, and the structure
on it defies description. A very white throat
was set off to advantage by a narrow black velvet
ribbon, fastened by a jewel. The finest lace ruffles about her neck and elbows, with a longwaisted silk dress of rich texture and delicate
color, produced an effect that was quite bewitching. She was wonderfully well preserved for a
lady of over eighty years of age, and it was pleasant to see the great attention paid to her by all the
family. She was rather deaf, so I was seated by
her side, and requested to address my conversation to her. When lunch was over, she was
wheeled into the library, and occupied herself
making a cotton net to put over the wall-fruit,
6




122    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
to keep it from the birds. It was worth a journey to Edgeworthtown only to see this elegant
specimen of old age.
I had heard that Mr. Edgeworth's house was
full of his inventions and contrivances, and when
shown to our bedroom, we found such an extraordinary lock on the door, that we dared not shut
it for fear of not being able to'open it. again.
That room, too, was unlike any other I ever saw.
It was very large, with three huge windows, two
of them heavily curtained, and the third converted into a small wardrobe, with doors of pink
cotton on a wooden frame. It had two very large
four-posted bedsteads, with full suits of curtains,
and an immense folding screen that divided the
room in two, making each occupant as private as
if in a separate room, with a dressing-table and
ample washing conveniences on each side.. A
large grate, filled with turf, and all ready for
lighting, with a great basket lined with tin, and
also filled with the same fuel, reminded us strongly we were in Ireland. Large wax candles were
on the mantlepiece, and every convenience necessary to our comfort; at the same time the furniture was so very old-fashioned and dilapidated,
that no one in this country would think it possible to use it.
We were shown other contrivances of the former owner, such as a door in the entrance hall,




MISS EDGEWORTH.          123
(through which the servants were continually
passing,) the motion of which wound up a clock,
the face being over the sideboard, in the diningroom. Several doors in the house were made
double, in a way that I could not see the use of.
Two doors were fastened together at the hinge
side, making a right angle with each other, *so
that in opening one door you shut the other, and
had to open that before you could enter, and
when that opened, the one behind you shut.
Miss Edgeworth said it was for safety in times
of danger. She always mentioned her father
with great respect, and even reverence, in her
manner; but nothing that I saw or heard there
raised my opinion of him. I think his never allowing his gifted daughter any retirement, but
insisting on her writing all her books in that
great library, where he was teaching the children
their lessons, and every one occupied in various
ways, was a real act of tyranny, but she did not
so regard it.
In building his house, Mr. Edgeworth would
have no drawing-room, no sitting-room but the
one large library, with numerous windows on one
side, some made into alcoves by projecting bookshelves. There were a great many books, some
fine engravings, beautiful drawings, and very
good oil paintings by Mrs. Edgeworth. It was a
very pleasant family room, fully furnished with




124   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
tables, sofas, and lounges, a curious clock, and
various models. A little old fashioned work-table, with a small desk on it, was used by Miss
Edgeworth for writing all her books.
The fourth wife of Mr. Edgeworth was our
hostess, and performed her part charmingly. She
must have been very pretty, for, though short,
fat, and forty, her appearance was very agreeable.
Miss Edgeworth was shorter still, and carried
herself very upright, with a dapper figure and
quick movements. She was the remains of a
blonde, with light eyes and hair; she was now
gray, but wore a dark frizette, whilst the gray
hair showed through her cap behind. She was so
plain that she was never willing to sit for her portrait, and that is the reason why the public has
never been made acquainted with her personal
appearance.
In conversation we found her delightful. She
was full of anecdotes about remarkable people,
and often spoke from her personal knowledge of
them. Her memory, too, was stored with valuable information, and her manner of narrating was
so animated, that it was difficult to realize her
age.  In telling an anecdote of Mirabeau, she
stepped out before us, and extending her arm,
spoke a sentence of his in the impassioned manner of a French orator, and did it so admirably
that it was quite thrilling.




MISS EDGEWORTH.          125
She told us two speeches of Madame de Stael
which are worth remembering. Madame Neckar
was a harsh mother, and always found a great
deal of fault with her daughter; but her husband knew his child's merits, and liked her to
have her own way. One day a gentleman entered the room, just as Madame Neckar flourished
out of it, after reprimanding her daughter, who
stood abashed in the middle of the room, with
tears on her face. He endeavored to console her
by saying that she must not mind her mother's
reproofs, as long as her father was satisfied with
her, and he told her how much Mr. Neckar admired her. To this the girl replied, " Mon pere
pense a mon bonheur present, ma mere songe d
mon avenir." I talked with Miss Edgeworth of
a work on Progressive Education by Madame
Neckar de Saussure; she thought it dull and tedious, and said that Madame de Stael had a great
admiration of that cousin, and said of her, " Elle a
tous les talens qu' on me suppose, et toutes les vertues qui me manquent."
Miss Edgeworth and all her family took the
part of the English Government in their treatment of the Irish, and had no sympathy for the
wrongs and sufferings of their countrymen. Bigoted Episcopalians, they would grant no rights to
the Roman Catholics, and this made them very
unpopular in their own neighborhood.




126    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
They had been instrumental in establishing a
free school for the sons of poor Protestant clergymen, in the town which bordered on their grounds,
and they took us to see it. It was market-day, so
the main street was full of the lower order of
Irish, with their horses and carts, asses and panniers, tables and stands full of eatables and articles
of clothing. Sometimes the cart, or car, served as
a counter on which to display their goods. The
women in gay-colored cotton gowns, and white
caps with full double borders, made a very gay
appearance. As we all passed through the crowd
to the school-house, the enmity of the Papists to
Protestant landholders was but too evident.
Though Mrs. Edgeworth had been the Lady
Bountiful of the village for many years, there
were no bows or smirks for her and her friends,
no making way before her, no touching of hats
or pleasant looks. A sullen expression and a
dogged immovability were on every side of us.
Mr. Butler, who had but just arrived in Edgeworthtown, was as much struck with it as we
were, and it quite excited him. He spoke of it
to us as a want of manners in the people, and
called them uncivilized; but there was more in
it than that. He spoke to us Americans of the
long train of oppressive measures under which
the Irish had groaned for years; of the Protestant clergy paid by rates levied on the Roman




MISS EDGEWORTH.          127
Catholics, and of the tyranny exercised by Protestant landholders.  Twenty-eight years have
passed since I stood in that Irish crowd, and much
has been done to improve their condition; all the
political disabilities then complained of by the
Papists have been removed, oppressive laws have
been done away with, emigration has relieved the
land of its surplus population, and were it not
for the designs of the Romish Church to rescue
the island from the dominion of a Protestant
power, that country-might now be prosperous
and happy.
When we visited Miss Edgeworth she had published her last work, " Helen," and was writing
another to be called " Taking for Granted," but I
never heard of its being published. She told me
that she meant to show the mischief of taking
things for granted, and acting upon them as if
they were known facts, and she begged me to
send her any instances of the evil consequences
of "taking for granted" which fell under my
observation.




128   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XV.
ANDRIANE.
I HAPPENED to be in Paris in 1737 when
Monsieur Andriane returned from  his ten
years' imprisonment in Austrian dungeons, and
I was present in the saloon of Madame Recamier,
when he gave a most affecting account of his sufferings. He was in the prime of life, and had
been handsome, but he was prematurely aged by
all he had endured. His sight was much impaired by writing on the walls of his dungeon
with scarcely any light, and he was lamed for
life by the heavy irons he had worn so many
years. I can see him now as he was seated in the
centre of a circle of eager listeners, answering
questions, and describing with great pathos the
effect on his mind of the solitary imprisonment
which he endured for a part of the time. He
was a young Frenchman travelling for pleasure,
and had had nothing to do with the politics of
Europe. On leaving Geneva to go to Milan, a
friend asked him to be the bearer of some papers
which he wished to send to that city. Entirely
ignorant of their being the communications of a




ANDRIANE.              129
secret society, plotting against the Austrian government, he took charge of them. On his way
over the Simplon, his carriage was upset, and
many of its contents fell over the precipice at the
side of the road, and among them the portfolio
containing those dangerous papers. His servant
insisted on going down the precipice after his master's effects, and when all but the portfolio were
recovered, Monsieur Andriane begged him not to
risk his life for that, but the man's zeal to serve
him made him bring that up also. The fatal papers arrived at Milan, and before the bearer had
time to deliver them, they were in the hands of
the police, and he was arrested. His astonishment was unbounded, and in his first examination it was difficult to make him understand what
he had done to forfeit his liberty, or of what he
was accused, but he had enough presence of
mind to refuse to tell who had given him the papers, or to whom they were to be delivered. This
reserve made him appear to belong to the secret
society then existing in Milan, and he was therefore considered as plotting against the Austrian
government, and condemned to the severest imprisqnment.
As soon as he was supposed sufficiently broken
down to be willing to betray his associates, for the
sake of better treatment, he was subjected to
another examination; but they had mistaken their
6*                       I




130    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
man. His sense of honor never failed him, and
during ten years of persecution, he never yielded
to persuasion, threats, or bribery, but steadily refused to give any information which could compromise anybody.  He suffered accordingly all
the cruelties inflicted on suspected persons.  He
was asked how he employed his mind during his
solitary confinement, and told us that for the first
year he went over his past life, recalling every minute circumstance, and kept his mind busy; after
that he felt that he was becoming stupid, and
fearing to be imbecile, he roused himself to fresh
exertion, and began to recall all that he had ever
learned from books, and wrote it on the wall with
the point of a rusty old nail that he found in his
cell. It was only during the middle of the day
that the faint light which entered his dungeon
was sufficient for him to pursue this occupation,
but he found it very useful, and a great alleviation.  During the many hours of darkness, he
would recall and prepare what he would write the
next day. He feared that in a long imprisonment his memory might fail him, and then he
hoped the writing on the wall.would save him
from imbecility. He had completely covered all
his walls, as high as he could reach, with fine
writing, when he was suddenly removed to another dungeon. This was done, he supposed, on purpose to torment him; but it proved a blessing,




ANDRIANE.             131
for he began again, arranged his matter better,
beginning with his spelling book and grammar,
and continuing all through his classical education, he wrote down every word he could remember.
The prison became so full that it was necessary to put two in each dungeon, and Andriane had
the immense advantage of being associated with
that excellent man, Gonfalonieri. He could not
enlarge on the blessed effects of that fellowship.
It occasioned him too much emotion, and he hasteled to the end of his narrative, by saying that
great exertions were made by his friends to procure his liberty, but in vain. The officials hated
him for his obstinate refusals to answer certain
questions, and when they found how much he enjoyed the society of the noble Gonfalonieri, they
changed his companion for a very degraded felon.
This was his greatest trial, but he said, " Gonfaloneri had taught me how to bear even that."
He ended by saying, " I owe my liberty at last
to the perseverance of this dear sister," and he
laid his hand in the lap of a lady who was sitting
almost behind him, and nearly hidden from our
view. The sister now became an object of interest to the company, and after some conversation
with her the party broke up.
I never saw or heard anything of Monsieur Andriane for more than twenty years, when I found




132   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
myself living under the same roof with him and
his family at Pan, in the south of France. He was
now happily married, and had one son, nearly of
age, and a young daughter. They were all skilled
in music, and the son always played the accompaniments to his mother's singing, which was remarkably fine. They had musical parties every
other week, to which the beau monde of Pau
thought it a great favor to be invited. The misfortunes of Andriane's youth had taught him to
prize very highly his present happiness; he still
bears about him the ill effects of his long imprisonment, and he always kept the anniversary of
his release from prison as a sacred day. It occurred whilst I was at Pan, and I sent him a
handsome bouquet, with a few lines of congratulation on his present happiness.  I never saw a
person more delighted with a slight attention than
he was with mine. He called the next day to
thank me, and was so profuse in his acknowledgments that I was convinced his more fashionable friends had not noticed the day.




THE FRENCH STAGE.          133
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FRENCH STAGE.
T was my good fortune to be in Paris just in
time to see Talma and Mile. Georges perform their best characters in the plays of Racine,
before leaving the stage. The scene which has
left the most vivid impression on my mind is
one in the play of Britannicus, where Agrippina
is reproaching Nero with his faults in a fearless
and authoritative manner, whilst he is chafing
with suppressed rage.  The perfection of their
costume, and the excellence of their acting, made
me feel as though I had seen the real personages
they were simulating. I preferred Talma's style
of acting to that of the Kemble school; for, though
his style was not less " classical," it had more of
nature in it. Though every word and movement
of Talma was studied and finished to the last degree of perfection, he was less conventional than
John Kemble.
Talma's figure reminded me of that of Napoleon, and I can well believe that the latter took
lessons from the great tragedian, and learned of
him how'best to carry his robes of state. Why
should not one actor learn of another?




134    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Twenty years later, I was again in Paris, and
again frequented that best of theatres, which is
subsidized by the government, and is called emphatically Le Theatre Franfois. Napoleon's favorite
actress, Mile. Mars, was still attracting crowds to
see her play in the small pieces, written expressly
for her, two of which were given on one night.
She was no longer young, and many considered
her quite passe e; but on the stage, she still appeared in the prime of life, and her charming
acting, elegant carriage, and perfect rendering of
her part, made her still the idol of the public.
I saw her in Marie ou les Trois -Epoques. In
the first epoch she appears as a young girl, in
love with one person, and obliged to marry another, to save her father from ruin. In the next
she appears as the faithful and devoted wife, refusing all attentions and all intimacy with her
former lover, though her husband, ignorant of
the love that once existed between them, is continually throwing them together. He proposes
to take a long journey, and leave the quondam
lover to take care of his wife. This, she positively refuses, and insists on accompanying her
husband. Thus ends the second epoch. In the
third, she is the mother of a grown-up and beautiful daughter; her husband is dead, and her former lover is continually at her house, and appears
to be devoted to her. She remarks with pleasure




THE FRENCH STAGE.          135
that her daughter seems very fond of her future
step-father; but when asked for a private interview, and expecting to be solicited to marry him,
she finds that it is her daughter whom he wants
as his wife; and she resigns herself to her fate,
with the same disinterestedness that has marked
her whole course of life.
Mile. Mars contrived to look young enough for
the first epoch, and won all hearts by the way in
which she resigned her lover to save her father
from bankruptcy. As the wife, her behavior to
her husband was perfect, and might have served
as a lesson in morals to French wives. As the
mother, nobly preferring her child's happiness to'
her own, she melted us to pity and sorrow, that
such a second sacrifice was required of her.
It was a charming little play, and charmingly
performed, and made such an impression on my
mind that I can recall it vividly after a lapse of
twenty-seven years.
I also saw Mile. Mars in Valerie, -a blind girl
who is restored to sight by her lover, - but I
do not remember the particulars of the story,
only that it was well performed and a very good
piece. It would be just the drama for private
theatricals where there were but few performers.
Two pieces, in which Mile. Mars did not act,
made a strong impression on me, as showing a
great change in the policy of the French govern



136    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
ment since my previous visit to Paris. Then
Louis XVIII. was on the throne: now Louis
Philippe was king of the French. One of these
remarkable dramas was called La 7iellesse d'un
Grand Roi, in which Louis XIV. is represented
at the close of life, almost imbecile, and managed and imposed upon by Madame de Maintenon. How one of the house of Bourbon could
permit le grand Jfonarque to be shown up in such
a contemptible plight, I never could comprehend.
The courtiers were represented as deceiving and
making fun of the poor old king, and the audience
sympathized with them.
I was equally surprised by the acting of another piece, which favored Protestantism  and
condemned the practices of the Romish Church.
It was written by Scribe, and called La Famille
du temps de Luther. It represented a young man,
just converted to Protestantism, on the point of
making a profession of it, and joining a Lutheran
church, when his brother arrives from Rome expressly to save him from such damning heresy.
They have conversations together, which were
entirely favorable to Protestantism, and betrayed
the bad morals of the Roman Catholic brother,
who is a Jesuit. He uses every means to save
his brother from joining the Protestant Church,
and considers his soul is safe until that act is performed. So, when bribes and menaces have failed,




THE FRENCH STAGE.           137
he resolves to murder him, in order to save his
soul from perdition. In his soliloquy before the
deed, he expresses that dangerous maxim of the
Chuch of Rome, that the end justifies the means.
Very different is the soliloquy of the Lutheran
brother, the night before he is to make his profession of faith. He speaks as a truly devout man,
and a convert to the religion of Christ, before it
was corrupted by the Church of Rome. He shows
himself so true a Christian, that we feel that he
is fit to die, as he does, by the hand of his brother,
that night.
It was plain that the audience sympathized
with the Protestant brother; and the wonder was
how such a piece could be acted in a Roman
Catholic country, governed by a Roman Catholic
king with a very bigoted wife.
Another great treat which I enjoyed that winter, in Paris, was seeing some of Moliere's best
comedies at the Theatre Fran^ais, where every
part is sure to be well performed. L'Ecole des
Femmes was given with a preparatory scene, in
which Moliere is represented as reading the play
to a circle of the haute noblesse belonging to the
court of Louis XIV. They criticise the piece,
and he makes a witty defence. This lasts a short
time, and then the circle breaks up, and the critics request Moliere to give them the whole play
on the stage. It was a very pretty sight to see so




138    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
many persons, dressed in the costume of those
days, and feel assured that they were given correctly.
When we consider the age in which Moliere
lived, we must award him the merit of having
done more honor to the female character than
any of his contemporaries. He showed up the
evils of mercenary marriages, and was in favor
of educating women. The weapon with which
he attacked the prevailing follies of the age was
ridicule, and he wielded it with a master's hand.
I heard an anecdote of XMlle. Mars, which shows
that she was not only the mouth-piece for Moliere's
wit, but had wit of her own. She was a warm
partisan of Napoleon I., and adhered to him during his exile in Elba. The Garde du Corps of
the Emperor was considered to be mere parade
soldiers, and to have no military character at all.
Several of them were walking in the gardens of
the Tuileries, when they met Mile. Mars, and
made some impertinent remark, on which she
said, "Sachez, Messieurs, que Mars, et le Garde
du Corps, n'ont rien de commun ensemble."  This
bon mot made her more popular than. ever with
the Parisians.
During Napoleon's absence in Elba, his friends
used the violet as his emblem, his countersign, his
name. They had a phrase by which to distinguish his partisans. They would say, in a care



THE FRENCH STAGE.         139
less way, "Les violettes reviendront avec le printemps."  And if the reply was, "Eh bien! " they
knew they were speaking to a partisan; but if
the reply was anything else, the conversation was
turned away from the interests of Napoleon.
When he marched triumphantly back to his
capital, he showed himself to the people by going
to the theatre. Mile. Mars was playing that
night, and had on a dress trimmed with violets.




140    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XVII.
MR. AND MRS. THOMAS HOPE.
HE most brilliant party that I was ever at
in London, was given by Mrs. Thomas
Hope, the daughter of the Archbishop of Tuam,
and wife of the learned author of " Anastatius,"
a wealthy merchant of Amsterdam resident in
London. They lived in a corner house in Harley
Street, at the West end of London, and it was
large enough to contain fourteen rooms en suite.
These were fitted up with great taste and judgment, according to the ideas of Mr. Hope, who
had written a book on furniture and upholstery,
and introduced into England the classical forms
which have ever since been in use. This house
was like a museum, for every room was fitted up
in a different style. One was a la Chinoise, and
filled with curious and beautiful objects from
China; another was in Persian style, full of Eastern magnificence. A Grecian hall, adorned with
statuary, delighted the eye, and a French saloon,
full of mirrors, with objects of vertu, marquetry and
ormolu, Sevres porcelain and bronzes, claimed
the attention of the visitor. The English apart



MR. AND MRS. THOMAS HOPE.      141
ment, emphatically so called, was the banqueting
hall, across one end of which was a long table
filled with every delicacy of the season, and where
you took refreshments whenever you pleased.
There were so many valuable things scattered all
through these rooms, that, as I was afterwards
told, there was a policeman, dressed as a gentleman, on guard in every room. The fashionables
and grandees laughed at the wealthy Dutchman,
and called him Furniture Hope; but they were
glad enough to throng his house and see his fine
collection of paintings and sculpture, nor was his
beautiful wife a less attraction. She was so diminutive in her person, and so handsome in her
face, that she was called the pocket Venus. The
Prince Regent requested her to allow him to have
her full-length likeness in enamel, for his collection of beauties; and Mr. Bone, the celebrated
painter in enamel, made a lovely picture of her.
The night that I saw her, she received her company standing on a low stool, and was dressed in
gold-colored satin trimmed with black velvet, and
had on a superb set of diamonds.
I went with some particular friends of the
Hopes. We had dined at a house only a mile
from Mr. Hope's, but it took us two hours to go
that distance, in a line of carriages that extended
all the way there, and was checked in its progress
every time a carriage stopped to set down its com



142    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
pany. Directions had been given in the morning
papers for the course the carriages were to take,
so as to avoid confusion. They were all to approach through the same streets and in the same
direction, and after setting down, to proceed
through certain other streets, and then fall into
line again and approach the house in the same
way as before. On reaching Mr. Hope's door,
the footman was to give the name of his mistress,
and " Mrs. Smith's carriage stops the way! " was
vociferated by the servants up the grand staircase to the entrance of the first room, and woe
be to Mrs. Smith if she did not hear and attend
to the announcement, for her carriage would be
ordered to move on, and she must wait till all the
company was gone, before she could get it again.
I was with friends who knew exactly what to do;
so after a few words with the exquisite little
hostess, we sauntered slowly through the rooms,
all of which were filled but not crowded. We
soon came to the large English drawing-room,
where we felt' the soft crush of aristocracy,"
and pressing gently through it, we came suddenly
on an open space, in which a large, fat gentleman
was bowing to a lady who was just introduced to
him. It was the Prince Regent; I knew him by
his bow, and we drew back so as not to intrude
on the magic circle around royalty. We paused
a few minutes to observe him. A once handsome




MR. AND MRS. THOMAS HOPE.     143
man, bloated and disfigured by dissipation. The
lady just introduced was a great wit, and she
soon made him shake his fat sides with laughter.
On a raised seat, that ran round one half of the
room, sat Lady Hertford, his chere amie at that
time, and very handsome still, though far from
young; very stout and tall, with a great display
of neck, shoulders, and arms, as fair as alabaster.
There she sat, in dignified composure, but watching the Prince. We soon passed on to complete
our view of the fourteen rooms. They terminated
in an elegant little boudoir, where we found only
one person, a fashionable dandy of that day. He
was standing before a mirror that reflected his
whole person, and adjusting his hair and cravat.
I knew at once that it was Mr. Skeffington, having seen him mimicked by Mathews the comedian,
in his entertainment called "Mathews at Home."
As soon as we had completed the tour of the
rooms, it was time to place ourselves where we
could hear the announcement of our carriage.
Standing in the hall at the top of the staircase,
we had time to look at a large picture of Belshazzar's Feast, and on our way home I listened to
the following account of it.
Mr. Hope bought a great many pictures, and
always employed the same man to clean them and
put them in order before they were hung. He
was on the point of leaving London for his seat




144    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
in Surrey when the picture of Belshazzar's Feast
came into his possession, and he left it with this
man to do the needful, and hang it in the hall.
On his return to town, he examined the picture,
and found that a piece had been cut off the top
of it, and the cleaner had put his own name in an
obscure part of the picture as the painter of it.
Such liberties taken with a valuable picture by an
old master, were not to be endured, and the culprit was dismissed with a sharp reprimand. Being something of an artist, he resolved to avenge
himself by making a picture of Mr. and Mrs.
Hope as Beauty and the Beast. Mr. Hope was
as ugly as his wife was handsome, and he was
represented as the Beast, holding up a full purse
to the Beauty. This picture was exhibited as a
shilling show, and hundreds flocked to see it before the family knew anything about it. At last
a brother of Mrs. Hope, who was an officer in a
regiment then on duty at the palace, and therefore wore his uniform, entered the room where
this picture was, drew his sword and cut it into
strips. The painter sued him for damages, but
all he could recover was the price of the canvas
and paint!
Mr. Hope, when I knew him, had not published
his remarkable novel called " Anastasius "; but,
when that appeared, his book on furniture was
forgotten, and the public learned to appreciate




MR. AND MRS. THOMAS HOPE.     145
him as a fine scholar and a good writer. He was
very desirous of a son and heir to all his wealth,
and three times did his wife present him with a
son who died in infancy. The fourth son lived to
be five years old. I saw him then, a beautiful
boy, the idol of his mother, but I do not know
whether he lived to grow up.
7                      J




146    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       XVIII.
THE MISSES ALLEN. - MRS. SISMONDI. - THE YOUNG
WIDOW.
T   HE fathers of families are very apt to hold
up, as models of good behavior, some one
set of girls whom they wish their daughters to
imitate; and when I was growing up, the Miss
Aliens were the examples always set before me.
If I wished to do anything, of which my father
disapproved, he would say, "You never heard
of one of the Miss Aliens doing such a thing as
that." When this was said, I knew there was no
hope for me, so I resigned myself to be as wise
and sober as those pattern girls. They were of
an ancient Welch family, and when I knew them,
their parents were dead, and they lived with their
bachelor brother, a man of mark in the county
which he represented in Parliament, and very
agreeable in private life. His house was one of
our most delightful visiting places. The sisters
were better educated and more highly cultivated
than was common, at that time, among young
ladies in South Wales, and a yearly visit to London introduced them to many distinguished peo



MRS. SISMOND.           147
pie. One of them married Sir James Mackintosh,
two married Wedgwoods, and one was the wife
of Sismondi, the historian of Italy.
My husband and I were spending a few weeks
in Geneva, in the autumn of 1838, and there I
renewed my acquaintance with Mrs. Sismondi,
who retained a lively interest in the friend of
her youth, and paid us every kind attention.
She lived in a villa, a little way out of the
town, and received her friends on one evening
in every week. To those receptions we always
went, and had the most delightful intercourse
with her and her accomplished husband, who
spoke English well, and had a great respect for
republican institutions. He gave us one evening
a very interesting account of his flight into Switzerland, with his invalid mother, when obliged,
by his liberal opinions, to quit his native land.
It so enchained my attention, at the time, that I
hardly remarked, among the guests, Mr. Nightingale and his two young daughters. Little did
any one then present anticipate the wide-world
fame that Miss Florence Nightingale would one
day acquire.
We met at Madame Sismondi's the celebrated
botanist, M. de Candolle, and by way of making
conversation, I told him that in London people
were making plants grow under glass shades,
shut up tight, without additional air or water.




148    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
He listened very incredulously, and made me describe minutely every example of it I had seen.
The subject so interested him that in a few days
he set off for London to examine into the matter
for himself. His absence, at that time, was a
disappointment to the Duke of Devonshire, who
came to Geneva expressly to talk with him about
air-plants, which were then all the rage.
When the loved and respected Miss Allen of
Cresselly was first engaged to marry an Italian,
her friends trembled for her happiness; but could
they have seen her, as I did, after twenty years
of married life, they would have been convinced
she was blest with a true union, and that she and
her Italian husband were as much lovers then as
any bride and bridegroom could be. Having no
children, they were all the world to each other.
The literary labors of the successful author never
interfered with his domestic affections. He was
full of consideration and tenderness for his wife,
and had a most cordial kindness for her friends.
Recalling this visit to Geneva, reminds me of
our journey from  there to Turin, over Mont
Cenis, and of an incident which occurred at San
Michele. We arrived early in a fine October
evening, and took a walk which brought us unexpectedly to a grand view of Mont Cenis, just
as it was brilliantly illuminated by the setting
sun. At first several other snowy peaks were




THE YOUNG WIDOW.          149
equally lighted up, but by degrees all faded but
that one, showing how much higher it was than
the rest, yet the next day we were to cross its
summit. Returning to our inn, which we had
left so quiet that it hardly seemed like a public
house, we found it all bustle and confusion, and
I heard groans and cries from a chamber above
our parlor.
On inquiry, we were told that a gentleman
and lady, with a maid-servant, had arrived from
Turin, and on entering the inn, the lady ran with
all speed up stairs and threw herself out of a
chamber-window. She broke no bones, but was
much hurt and bruised, and it was her groans
that I heard. I immediately sent a message to
the gentleman offering my services and the use
of my medicine-chest. He came to thank me in
person, declined my aid, and told me the lady was
only twenty-two years of age, the wife of a Brazil
merchant who had died suddenly at Naples. As
he was Charg6 d'Affaires of the Emperor of Brazil,
he had been requested to escort this lady as far
as Turin, where her friends were to meet him
and relieve him of his very unpleasant charge;
but no one came, and he should be obliged to go
on with her to Geneva, which was very inconvenient and disagreeable to him. Not one word
of sympathy or compassion for the distracted
widow, nothing but his own disinclination to ac



150   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
company her, was apparent in his conversation
with me. He gave me his own history and his
wife's, none of which did I care to hear; my inquiries were only for the unfortunate lady, and
of her he did not care to speak. However, I did
find out that she was Madame Piton, and that
she had not been distracted until to-day, on their
way from Turin, and then I surmised that the
egotism of this unfeeling man had made him say
such hard things about her friends not meeting
her there, that it was more than she could' bear,
added to her deep affliction, and that it was his
want of sympathy for her which had driven her
to despair and caused her to throw herself from
the window. I was disgusted with this Chevalier
S. de Mac6do, and begged leave to see the lady
and to watch with her that night; but he would
not let me do either; he thought her maid was
sufficient. I sat up late that night, writing my
journal, and had not all been silent and still in
the poor lady's room before I retired, I should
have made an attempt to see her; hoping she
was at rest, I went to bed, but it was long before
I could sleep for thinking of her.
The next morning we started on our journey
over Mont Cenis, before I could hear anything
of Madame Piton, and I never expected to hear
of her again, but I did. The next spring I was
in Paris, and I searched in vain for the lady with




THE YOUNG WIDOW.          151
whom I had once boarded for six months, and for
whom I felt a real friendship. She used to confide to me her troubles, and told me she had been
happily married in Marseilles, and as long as she
lived there her husband behaved well. He removed to Paris, was well established there in a
good business, but he took to gambling, reduced
himself to poverty, and then committed some
crime which sent him to prison for several years.
Meanwhile she supported herself and two sons,
and when they were sufficiently educated she
meant to leave the country, before her husband
was liberated. Not finding her in Paris, I supposed that she had accomplished her purpose.
My husband and I went to Rouen on our way to
England, and took the steamer on the Seine for
our conveyance. On that boat I found my friend
Madame Reybert, then on her way to Brazil. She
had intended to leave Paris three months sooner,
but had been detained by her care of a friend,
who had been made insane by grief for the loss
of her husband and the total want of sympathy in
all around her. I told her of the lady who threw
herself out of a window from the same cause.
She exclaimed, That must be my friend, Madame
Piton; she did that on her journey with a selfish
monster who had no pity for her." Then she
gave a moving account of the inhumanity of that
man and the indifference of her maid. " I cured




152    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
her by love and sympathy. One of her delusions
was mistaking me for a sister, whom she loved
very much, and the happiness which that gave
her aided in her recovery. She will return to
her mother and sister in Brazil, and there I am
going to live near them, for they are old friends
of mine." A happy sequel this, to the history of
both those ladies!




LADY MANSFIELD.          153
CHAPTER XIX.
LADY MANSFIELD. - CHILDREN IN A CAVE.- THE
HAUNTED HOUSE.
RECOLLECT a notable instance of the mischief done by a lady's supposing herself to
have a head for business, when she really knew
nothing about it; and as I have already described
the rise and progress of the town of Milford,
under the management of the Honorable Charles
Greville, I will now tell of its decline and fall
under the misrule of Lady Mansfield, whose second husband was the Honorable Robert Fulk
Greville, brother of Charles, and heir to his
uncle, Sir William Hamilton. Her first husband
was the celebrated jurist, Lord Mansfield, who
showed what his feelings had been towards her,
by giving directions that after his death his heart
should be taken out and buried by his first wife.
She had tried in vain to rule her first husband,
but when she married her second, she took the
reins into her own hands, and he submitted entirely to her government. As soon as the Milford
estate came into her possession, she announced
her dissatisfaction with the management of it,
and resolved to change everything.
7*




154   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
It was in vain that her agent told her, that the
building up of a town on her land had increased
its value fourfold; she disapproved of long leases
and low rents, and would alter all that. So down
she came to Milford, with her husband and children, governess and servants, and put up at the
Nelson Hotel. She began by disputing the leases
which were granted, some for three lives, others
for ninety-nine years. The ground-rent had been
made low in order to induce people to build.
She could not comprehend the policy of this, so
she summoned her tenants to her presence. The
upper class went, expecting to be received as
guests, and to be complimented on the benefit
they had bestowed on the estate, by building good
houses upon it. Great, therefore, was their disappointment and indignation when they were
received on the same footing as the humblest
householder there, and told that their leases
should all be broken. They appealed to the honorable husband of her Ladyship, but he sanctioned
all she did. Every inhabitant became her enemy,
though the event proved that she could not put
her threat into execution.
Not satisfied with this aggressive act, she next
attacked the Royal Dock-Yard, which it had cost
Charles Greville the greatest exertion of his interest with the government to have established
there, and which, with the whale fishery, was the




LADY MANSFIELD.          155
cause of the rapid growth of the town. A piece
of rough, rocky land, of no value to Lady Mansfield, or to any one else, had been wrongfully enclosed within the boundary of the d6ck-yard, and
she claimed it so vehemently, that a commissioner
was sent down from London to look into the matter. He looked too deeply into the affair for the
benefit of her Ladyship. He reported that the
site was wholly unfit for a building-yard, and recommended the removal of the whole concern to
the other side of the haven, and several miles
higher up, where he had discovered a tract of
land belonging to Government, and admirably
adapted to the purpose.  In due time orders
came to take down the vessels, then on the
stocks, and remove them to the new dock-yard,
near Pembroke, with all the materials belonging to his Majesty.
My father was so tormented by Lady Mansfield,
that he also removed his fishery from Milford,
and the town was left without any business of
consequence. A large house, built by my father,
was burnt down as soon as completed, and as her
ladyship had disputed his lease, she could not
oblige him to rebuild it, so the ultimate loss was
hers. She did, at last, so ruin the place, that she
never dared to show her face there again, and it
was said of Milford, that you might fire a cannon
down the Main street, without danger of hitting
any one.




156    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Only twenty miles from Milford was the pleasant sea-side resort called Tenby, little known in
my day, but now a fashionable bathing-place. It
was a small town, of poor houses, built on a projecting point of land, with a fine hard sand-beach
on each side, giving the bathers the choice of the
north or south sands. Curiously shaped rocks
form the coast, and one large cave, which is filled
with water at high tide, but remains empty many
hours in the day, was once the scene of great
alarm to a governess and three little girls who
were caught in it by the tide. She, who should
have seen to the safety of her charge, was so absorbed by an agreeable book, that she did not
observe the rising tide, till the possibility of retreat was cut off by it. She was terribly frightened, but concealed her alarm from the children,
as well as she could, and made them climb up to
a high ledge of rock and sit there with her. To
pass away the time, she told them stories; but
they grew very weary, and when the bottom of
the cave was filled with water, and the waves began to dash upon the rocks beneath their feet,
they were much terrified, and it was all the governess could do to comfort them and assuage
their fears, whilst her own courage was ebbing
fast; at last the youngest child fell asleep in her
arms and the other two nestled close to her, on
either side. There was no higher ledge of rock




CHILDREN IN A CAVE.         157
on which they could sit, and she feared they
would fall into the flood below if she attempted
to make them stand on the rock they were sitting
on. As soon as the arched entrance into the
cave was covered by the advancing tide, they
were in perfect darkness, and that added much
to the fearfulness of their position. At last the
children cried out, in distressed tones, that their
feet were wet and the water was coming all over
them. To which the governess replied, "Mine
have been wet for-some time; but never mind
that; I don't think it will come higher than our
knees." It was only after some mental exercise
and earnest prayer that she was able to say this.
Her words proved true. The tide did rise to her
lap, and swelled up against them and all around
them fearfully; but in a few more minutes its
force seemed less, and presently they could be
certain that it began to lower. Relieved from
their terror, the two older children fell asleep,
and then the governess was very anxious lest
they should fall from their narrow perch and be
drowned after all. Very long did the time seem
before the tide retreated far enough for a little
light to enter at the top of the entrance to the
cave; but at length that light came, and not
long after was heard the welcome sound of voices,
and as soon as a boat could enter, one came to
their relief, with the father of the children in it.




158    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
He found his little girls refreshed by their nap,
and as lively and full of prattle as if no trouble
had come near them; but their unhappy governess was utterly overcome. She could do nothing
but weep, and afterwards fell into melancholy and
died insane.
Another instance of the dangers of the sea to
those on land occurs to me. A lady of my acquaintance, living by the seaside in England,
walked down to the beach, accompanied by her
two little girls and their tutor, to see the surf
after a storm. They passed round a high projecting cliff, which was then far enough from the
water for them to walk round it dry-shod. The
grandeur of the waves and the curious things the
children found in the rock-pools, beguiled the
time, and when, on their way back, they reached
the cliff, they found that the surf had sent some
of its waters to the foot of it. They thought
they could easily pass round it, if they did not
mind wetting their feet, so the mother gathered
up her dress and told the little girls to follow her.
Just as she was passing the cliff, a wave dashed
up and bore her off into the sea, where she was
drowned, and the children were only saved by the
tutor's catching hold of them and pulling them
back. They returned home by another and a
longer way, to carry to their father the astounding news that their mother was drowned. He




SEASIDE ACCIDENT.         159
rushed down to the fatal spot, but saw no sign
of what had happened; he haunted the shore by
day and by night, and had men watching all the
time, in hopes of recovering the body, but it
never appeared.
Another and a very different kind of danger
attending a residence by the sea, was told by a
descendant of the family in which it occurred, at
a breakfast to which I was invited.
In a very large, old-fashioned habitation, perched
on the brow of a beetling cliff, on the South coast
of England, lived a widowed lady and her children, with a large retinue of servants, and every
luxury that wealth could give, but without the
society of neighbors. The nearest town was several miles off, and there were no country-seats
near them; but the estate had been long in the
family, and, though rather lonely, it was a favorite residence. The house had originally been a
castle; but had been so altered and added to that
little remained of its former appearance. Various
rooms indicated, by their furniture and the pictures on the walls, the time to which they belonged; and long corridors led to many apartments never used by the family. It did, however, happen that a person was ill in one of these
distant rooms, and a nurse, who was watching the
sick woman, was greatly terrified by seeing the
head of one of the old portraits on the wall move




160    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
like a living one. She was sure that the eyes
winked, and the head moved up and down. She
was transfixed with terror, but controlled herself
so far as not to scream. When she recovered the
power of moving, she ran off to tell her mistress
what she had seen, and that she could not possibly
return to that haunted chamber. Several persons
went to the room, but saw no motion in the old
picture, and the poor nurse was well laughed at
for her alarm. The next night, the housekeeper
offered to watch in that same chamber, and she
was sent screaming through the corridor by the
same motion in the picture. The sick person was
now removed to another part of the house, and
the haunted chamber was locked up and never
used.
Some time after this occurrence, the oldest son
returned from a long absence in the army, and
on hearing of the haunted chamber, he declared
that he would find out if there were any marvellous appearances, by passing a night there himself. His mother and sisters tried in vain to dissuade him from it: the young soldier chose to
show that he had no fear of ghosts or burglars.
He said he should not go to bed; he would sit up
armed, and have a bright wood fire or a good
lamp to read by.
The family retired, leaving him to what they
considered a useless vigil; but the next morning




THE HAUNTED HOUSE.         161
he joined them, looking very pale and haggard,
and refused to say whether anything had occurred
or not. He locked up the room, and forbade any
one going near it. In a few days he told his
mother that they must all quit that house, and
live elsewhere. Sle asked him if he were going
to bring a wife there, as the estate was his. He
said no; that he should pull down the house, and
raze it to the ground. " That is a new way to
get rid of ghosts," said his mother. " This is to
get rid of what is worse than ghosts," was his
reply. But he refused all further explanation.
The old mansion was pulled down, and many
years after it became known that a cave, under
that wing of the castle which contained the haunted room, was used by smugglers, who wished to
frighten the family from occupying the rooms
above that cave, lest they should hear the noises
they made in carrying their brandy casks into it.
One of the gang had cut a hole through a thin
partition between the chamber and a dressingroom, and made the aperture just behind a large
portrait. He had removed the painting from the
frame, and put himself in its place, on purpose to
frighten the family, and make them think the
chamber was haunted. This plan succeeded so
well that the smugglers would have kept that part
of the castle uninhabited, had it not been for the
conduct of the son and heir of the house. When
K




162    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
he was watching there, and occupied with his
book, two smugglers entered suddenly through a
trap-door in the dressing-room, and presenting
their pistols to his breast, ordered him to remove
from the table where his arms were laid. A third
and fourth man entered and'disposed of them.
They then told him that they were smugglers,
and used a cave underneath, and swore they
would carry him off and kill him, unless he took
an oath never to speak of what happened that
night, and to pull down the whole house.




MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE.      163
CHAPTER XX.
MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE.
IN Paris, where every father thinks he has an
undoubted right to dispose of his children in
marriage, according to his own ideas of expediency, I heard the most vehement denunciation of
the practice, in a public lecture by Professor
Chasles of the Instituto, a little dark man, with
a monkey face and gestures to match. He took
for his subject Dickens's story of " Hard Times,"
in which a delicate young girl, educated at home,
and entirely ignorant of the world, is made, by
her father, to marry one of his business friends,
who is twice her age, and very vulgar and disagreeable besides. She bears her trials with stoical endurance, putting a constant restraint upon
her words and actions, and locking up within her
own breast all the bitter feelings to which her situation gives rise.
At last she makes the acquaintance of a man
whom she could love, and then she feels the full
force of her wretched connection with a man
whom she cannot love. Her good principles prevent her from giving way to this new-born pas



164    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
sion; but she can no longer live with her husband,
and, in her extremity of suffering, she resolves to
tell her father the whole truth, and call on him
to save her from sin and misery, by separating
her from her uncongenial partner. That interview, between the father and daughter, is one of
thrilling interest; nothing can be more forcibly
portrayed than the utter wretchedness of such a
marriage, and the dangers to which it leads.
With this for his subject, the Professor was
eloquent in his denunciation of mariages de convenance, and his audience sympathized with him.
Any one hearing his vehemence, and the plaudits
which followed, would have supposed that the
time had fully come for such marriages to be
done away with forever. But alas! they are still
going on.
I knew a young girl who had the courage to
resist one of these forced marriages; but she had
English as well as French blood in her veins. She
and her brother (we will call them Antoinette
and Philippe) were the children of a French officer married to an English lady. He died when
they were young, and, on their mother's marrying
a second time, they were sent to the care of an
uncle and aunt in Paris, who had no children,
and who brought up their niece and nephew as
well as if they had been their own. When Antoinette was old enough to leave school, her uncle




MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE.      165
began to look out for a suitable match for her,
and no one seemed to him so desirable as a rich
old bachelor who was his intimate friend, and an
habitue' of the house.
When the aunt informed her niece that a husband was found for her, she was much surprised;
but when told who it was, she could not believe
that her aunt was in earnest; so she treated it as
a joke, and laughed at the idea of her ever marrying that old gentleman, on whose knee she had
sat from childhood up. When compelled, at last,
to believe that her aunt was in earnest, she protested against the match, and declared it should
never take place. Her aunt said nothing then,
but began to make the necessary preparations,
and always spoke as if it were a settled affair, and
called the gentlemen herfutur.
The unhappy girl felt as if chains were silently
forming around her, and all her efforts to break
loose from them were fruitless. She consulted
her brother, who was a little older than herself.
He advised her to talk with her uncle. She dared
not do it, unless he would accompany her; but
he very wisely refused, saying, " I had better not
appear in the matter till you have tried all your
means of escape, and, when you fail, I will come
to your aid. You shall never marry that man."
Encouraged by this, she ventured to remonstrate
with her uncle; but he treated her opposition




166    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
with supreme contempt, and told her his decision
was irrevocable, and she would live to thank him
for it. He said young girls knew nothing about
married life, and must always abide by the judgment of their friends. Driven to despair by this
talk with her uncle, she sought her brother, and
told him she would drown herself in the Seine
rather than submit to this hated marriage. He
calmed her fears, advised her to behave as if she
were resigned to her fate, and he would run off
with her to England as soon as he could make the
necessary preparations. He arranged everything
so well, that he did carry off his sister, and place
her in safety with her mother; but, in so doing,
he felt that he was ruining his own prospects in
life. His uncle would be so enraged at what he
had done, as never to receive him again. His
step-father was a wise and good man. He undertook to make his peace with his uncle, and, after
a long correspondence, Philippe was allowed to
return to his studies in Paris, and became eventually his uncle's heir.  Antoinette remained
under the roof of her step-father, who kept a
boarding-school for boys. One of these fell in
love with the handsome French girl. As he was
an only son, and heir to a large fortune, her
mother, from a sense of honor, did all she could
to prevent the growth of this love affair. But the
young folks kept it up, and became mutually
attached.




MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE.      167
Having run away once to avoid a match, it was
very natural that Antoinette should think now of
running away to secure a union with the youth
she loved. So off they went one fine morning,
and were lost to pursuit in a large city, where
they remained hidden for two weeks, and then
they suddenly appeared at our house in Bath. As
they entered, I was reading a letter from Antoinette's mother, asking me if I knew where her
daughter was, and imploring me to tell her if I
did. The bridegroom was such a darling of his
widowed mother that he could not offend her;
and when she saw his bride, she was so fascinated
by her that she welcomed her as a daughter; and
this love match proved a very happy one. I say
this one did, for I would not be supposed to mean
that all love matches are happy, or that all interested. matches are unhappy; but I do consider
that all marriages, not founded on a strong and
disinterested attachment, are wrong, and entail
untold misery on the wretched beings so yoked.
In connection with this subject, I remember
talking about it to a large class of young girls
assembled in the studio of a female artist in Paris,
to learn crayon drawing. My younger sister went
there to take lessons, and I went with her. We
were introduced as "les demoiselles Anglaises."
As soon as the teacher had placed my sister's
easel, and given her a subject to copy, she left the




168    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
room; and no sooner was she gone than all drawing ceased, and one young lady asked me if, in
England, we did not marry for love. I told her
we did, and then they were all very anxious to
know how that could be brought about.' Cormment cela se fait il," resounded from all sides.
Feeling very willing to stir up a mutinous spirit
against mariages de convenance, I gave them a
full description of the intercourse allowed in England between young girls and young men of the
same class. I spoke of country life there, with
its fine large mansions filled with guests, whose
amusements were riding, walking, boating, fishing, balls, and parties. I told them how preferences were shown, and how returned, and described all the steps that led to a love match,
approved, though not made, by the parents.
Those poor young creatures listened to me as if
their lives depended on what I was saying; and
when I had done, a general exclamation of wonder
and admiration made so much noise that I could
only hear distinctly what a girl near me said.
" English wives are held up to us as models of virtue; but I do not see what merit they have when
they choose their husbands. It is easy enough to
be a good wife to a man of your choice."
Here the teacher entered, scolded the girls for
having done so little, and the lesson ended. On
our way home, my sister found fault with my




MARIAGES DE CONVENANCE.      169
having given such a favorable picture of lovematches in England, and said she should, at the
next lesson, tell them how many of those lovematches proved, in time, to be very unhappy
ones. She thought it was unkind to make them
earnestly desire what they could not possibly obtain.
I have known women in England who had too
much sentiment to marry for money, or for an
establishment, or indeed from any selfish motive,
but who were willing to sacrifice themselves for
the sake of some advantage to be gained by a beloved brother, or sister, or mother,-not being at
all aware that in so doing they were committing
a sin. Several instances of this mistaken generosity have come under my observation, and it has
always resulted in the sacrifice being made in
vain, for the person who was to be benefited
died, and the poor victim lived a long life of
wretchedness.
I was well acquainted with one of those unhappy wives. She and her brother were left orphans
when very youi, and had been brought up by
an uncle, a sordid and hard-hearted man. Having no affection lavished upon them by -, they
were all the more attached to each other. When
the boy grew up, his uncle intended to place him
in some situation wholly distasteful to him, while
there was another career open to him which he




170    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
much desired.  I forget what either of them
was, but I know that the uncle agreed to let his
nephew follow his inclination, on one condition
only, and that was that his sister should marry a
rich linen draper, whose suit she had rejected,
and for whom she felt a great distaste. She belonged to a class much above a retail shopkeeper
in London, and felt it a degradation to be married
to one. After a long and painful struggle, her
love for her brother triumphed over all other
feelings, and when he had obtained the situation
he desired, she gave her hand to the linen draper,
who had behaved very well during his courtship.
Immediately after the marriage ceremony, the
bride and groom set off on a wedding tour. On
stopping to dine at a hotel, they ordered a roast
fowl for their dinner. When it was served the
bridegroom cut off both wings, with the meat of
the breast, for himself, and pushed the remains
over to his bride. She thought at first that he
was doing it as a good joke, and expected her
share of the white meat; but he was far enough
from joking. He was beginning that course of
conduct which he continued all through life, as a
retaliation for her refusal of his first offer, and as
the means of taking down her pride, and showing
her that he was her lord and master. Her condition was one of hopeless misery; her brother's
happiness was her only consolation, and that was
taken from her by his early death.




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.         171
CHAPTER       XXI.
UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.
NOTHER instance occurs to me of the
wretchedness consequent upon marriages
without love, in the case of a very young girl
sacrificed to the sordid calculations of a weak
and ambitious mother. Too young to comprehend what she was about, she was led as a lamb
to the slaughter.
A worldly-minded mother, with seven grownup daughters, must, in England, have her head
full of schemes, and her heart full of anxiety, as
to how to dispose of them in marriage. Men in
that country are more careful than in this, how
they enter into matrimony before they have ample means to support a wife, and those who have
sufficient incomes are slower in making a choice.
Mrs. B-    was therefore much pleased when a
wealthy merchant proposed for her fourth daughter; but he was not fully accepted when her
youngest girl, Olivia, came home from school
for the last time, and was to begin her career as
a young lady. She was the prettiest one of the
family, and the greatest favorite of her mother,




172    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
who felt a pang of jealousy for her, that any of
her sisters should be married before her.
Mrs. B- remembered that the gentleman
now paying his addresses to her daughter, had a
brother older than himself, who was also a bachelor, and she determined to do all in. her power to
secure him for her darling child. Disparity of
years was of no consequence in her view, compared with the fact that, as the oldest son he had
inherited the largest portion of a wealthy father's
property, and she thought with much satisfaction
that, as his wife, Olivia would take precedence
of her elder sister. Mrs. B — gave the younger brother to understand that if he wished his
own suit to prosper, he must find a match for
Olivia. On this he proposed to his brother to pay
his addresses to that pretty girl, and he readily
consented, for he had always followed in the footsteps of his father, and as he married at forty
years of age, the son would do the same. So
Mrs. B — had the satisfaction of marrying two
daughters on the same day, and seeing the
younger one take precedence of her elder sister.
So much for the feelings of the mother; but
what were those of the favorite child, who was
thus disposed of? As she was in after life an intimate friend of mine, I have heard from her own
lips, all the circumstances of her union with that
rich old bachelor, who never knew an emotion




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.         173
of love, was perfectly indifferent to her when he
married her, and continued so throughout his
life. She told me that as soon as she left her
boarding-school, she began to read romances, and
was so absorbed by them that she took little notice
of what was passing around her, until her mother
told her she had a suitor, and would probably be
married as soon as her sister. When introduced
to her future husband she thought him very unlike the lovers she had been reading about, but
her mother told her that real husbands were always very different from the heroes of romance.
She thought she ought to be in love with Mr.
N     before she married him, but was told that
that would come afterwards; and so, knowing
nothing of life, a mere child of seventeen, and
young of her years, she was hurried into the
bonds of matrimony, and most irksome did she
find them!
As the wife of the oldest son, she was made mistress of a sombre old mansion, in the midst of
the busiest part of the city of London, and had for
her companions two very stiff and formal maiden
sisters of her husband. A sad change this from
her father's cheerful villa a few miles from London, and the large family party she had left.
She complained of having nothing to do, and
her sisters-in-law immediately bought a plece of
linen, cut it up into shirts for their brother, and




174    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
told her that making them would be a pleasant
occupation for her, and a proper thing for a wife
to do. She has laughed since at the docility with
which she set to work on those shirts, stitching
away all the morning, from after breakfast till
luncheon time, at one. At two she and the two
old ladies took an airing in her new coach, and
returned the few visits she received from her
husband's city friends. After a six o'clock dinner, she was expected to play whist all the evening till bedtime.
This dreadfully dull life went on through the
winter and spring; but when summer came, Mr.
N —   remembered that his honored parents always spent a few weeks every year at some watering-place; so he would take his wife and sisters
to Weymouth.
There, for the first time, this pretty young wife
saw something of the gay world. She was in a
large hotel, full of company, and dined every day
at the public table. Her youth and beauty and
simple manners attracted much admiration and
attention, and she began to feel that she was of
some importance in that society. A new life
opened before her; she became a general favorite
with persons of refinement and of fashion, such as
she had never known before. This social sunshine developed in her new powers of observation
and reflection, and gave her courage to express




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.         175
her thoughts and feelings as she had never before
done.
Every one invited her to ride, or walk, or drive
with them; and instead of playing whist with
her husband every evening, she was dancing and
playing round games with the gayest young people. Mr. N —   and his sisters found plenty of
elderly persons ready to play whist with them,
and were so well amused that they cared not what
Olivia was doing. They little thought that she
was imbibing ideas and feelings and tastes which
would make the monotony of her home intolerable, would change her whole character, and revolutionize her life.
It was not long before some of her fashionable
admirers began to hint at her being a neglected
wife, and to wonder how it was possible for one
so young and so charming to be treated with so
much indifference. This shocked her, as an indelicate observation for any one to make to a wife,
and she resented it accordingly; but it opened
her eyes to a painful truth of which she had
hardly been conscious before, but which now became more apparent to her every day.
The striking contrast between her husband's
behavior to her, both before and after marriage,
and that lover-like attention she was now receiving from the most elegant and fascinating men in
the hotel, convinced her that she had made a




176    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
fatal mistake in marrying Mr. N —, and that
there were men in the world who resembled the
heroes of romance of whom she used to read.
There was one man of high birth, elegant manners, and great personal beauty, who exerted all
his powers of fascination to make the neglected
wife in love with him; but she was proof against
all his seductions. French novels had not then
corrupted the young mind, nor was the dangerous
doctrine of affinities then known. She had strict
notions of a wife's duty to her husband, and acted
accordingly. She even forced herself to tell Mr.
N — that Captain C —    made love to her, and
she thought they had better go home. -Instead
of valuing this confidence, and strengthening her
virtue by a grateful approval, he only said, " Pooh,
pooh! child; don't fancy that every man who
pays you a compliment is in love with you. I
shall not go home till our six weeks are expired."
Chagrined and provoked at her husband's way
of receiving what it had cost her such a severe
struggle to say, she felt inclined to listen with
more indulgence to the sentimental conversation
of the gallant Captain. She would not allow him
to make protestations of love, but she received
with pleasure the flattering attentions paid her by
him and several other gentlemen, making no distinction between them, and doing her best to conceal from Captain C-   the preference she felt




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.        177
for him. Delivered from this great danger by
her conscientiousness and her native delicacy, she
was still bent on securing the acquaintance of the
most agreeable of her fellow-boarders, and when
she returned to London, she received their calls,
and, from that time, she had a very different set
of visitors from those to whom her husband had
introduced her. Her maiden sisters-in-law soon
found that she had escaped from their tutelage;
and not enjoying her new friends, they made long
visits to their other brothers. Thus left to her
own desires, she filled her spare beds with new
guests, and had frequent small dinner-parties, to
the surprise of her husband, who always went to
his counting-room at nine in the morning, and
never returned until time to dress for a six o'clock
dinner. He would remonstrate with her on having so much company, but did not absolutely
forbid it.
When the London season came round, she
thought it necessary to her success with her fashionable friends to give a ball.  She knew her
husband would never consent to it, so she called
it a party, and kept him entirely in the dark about
it until the evening arrived, when his astonishment made him dumb, and the presence of so
many fine people imposed upon him the necessity
of treating them civilly.
They had excellent music and a luxurious sup8*                     L




178    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.,
per, provided and put on table by the celebrated
Gunter.
The fashionables from the West End of London
were surprised to find that the wife of a merchant; living in the city, could give such an elegant ball, and the novelty made it very agreeable
to them.
Never having been truly united to her husband,
her new mode of living made the separation
wider than ever, and she seemed to regard him
only as the paymaster of her establishment, and
the provider of good wines for her guests. He
was a lover of routine, and when his wife's frequent dinner-parties and annual ball recurred
every year, he made no further opposition to
them. He did, however, become tired of going
to fashionable watering-places, and she agreed to
give them up, if he would have a house in the
country and live there half the year. He accordingly bought a very nice place, within five miles
of London, near to her father's residence, and not
far from the homes of his two married brothers.
It suited him much better than it did her, to be
thus planted in the midst of their relations. He
was very fond of them all, but her tastes and
feelings separated her from them, and I have
heard her describe the family dinners that she
was obliged to partake of once a week, as a real
martyrdom to her. Her avowed dislike to these




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.          179
reunions gave great offence, and many bitter and
sarcastic speeches were made about her preference of new and fashionable friends, to old and
tried ones.
Mrs. N-      was a member of the Episcopal
Church and a constant attendant upon its services, and she would have been greatly shocked
had any one told her that she was without religion; but certainly the blessed influence of the
Holy Spirit, promised us by bur Divine Master,
had not yet purified and elevated her mind. She
was still of the earth, earthy, and her conduct
at this time was that of a foolish woman of the
world. She brought a hornet's nest about her
ears, and suffered much from its stings.
The next change, for the better, in her mode
of life, was brought about by the introduction
into this formal family-circle of a middle-aged
bachelor, distinguished for his scientific attainments, his learning, and his artistic tastes.
Alarmed by the pointed attentions paid him by
the single ladies in this circle, he naturally took
refuge with a pretty married woman, whose tastes
were more like his own, whose house was always
open to him, to whose pleasant dinners he was
always invited, and whose carriage was ever at
his service.
He was a wise and good man, and saw at once
that wedlock had brought no happiness to his




180    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
agreeable hostess, and that she was suffering from
want of interesting occupation; so he endeavored
to interest her in the study of botany, and found
her a very apt scholar. They walked together in
search of specimens, and he taught her how to
examine and classify them, and so great was her
industry and perseverance that she soon had an
herbarium which contained all the plants in that
neighborhood. Her friend next turned her attention to mineralogy, in which he had an extensive and valuable collection. She bought a
cabinet, and he gave her his duplicate specimens
to begin with, and introduced her to the auctionroom, where she could increase her collection.
He induced her to study enough of geology and
chemistry to understand the nature and value of
the minerals she bought, and this pursuit gave
her great pleasure. None of her relations could
comprehend this. They thought that she only
pretended to like her new occupation, in order to
engross the attention of her learned friend, and
they were very jealous of her.
To associate, for the first time, with a highly
cultivated and scientific man, to be the only one
in a large circle capable of entering into his pursuits, and to be the chief object of his attentions,
might well excite her gratitude and esteem, and
she naturally wished to return some of his favors,
by putting her house, her carriage, and her time
at his disposal.




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.         181
A mineralogist always has unsatisfied desires
for some rare specimen, and Mrs. N-   would
spend days in a dirty auction-room, waiting to secure for her friend some stone that she knew he
wished to possess, and long evenings were spent
in talking over the treasures they had collected.
Things had gone on for two years in the same
way, when Mrs. N-     invited to her house a
young girl, who added to a good education a general culture, a taste for the fine arts, and a love
for science. She was a very agreeable addition
to Mrs. N-     and her friend,- more especially
the latter,-who was becoming rather tired of his
perpetual tate d tete with his pupil, and was well
pleased to come in contact with a fresh and vigorous mind, already well cultivated, and fond of
some of his favorite pursuits. This guest was
from the country, and she must be shown the
sights of London.  The scientific man. condescended to be her showman, and most ably did
he perform his part. He obtained tickets of admission to all the finest private collections of pictures, and gave his companions the benefit of his
knowledge of the various merits of the ancient
masters. Whatever sight was to be seen, he made
it doubly interesting by his learning and his taste.
All the best theatres were visited in turn, and
there Mr. N-   accompanied them, making himself the escort of the young lady, and leaving his




182    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
wife to "'her philosopher," as he used to call
him.
At the end of a few weeks, this trio was broken
up, and the tete a tete was resumed for another
year, being carried on as well during the six
months in the city, as in the country.
By this tine, the " envy, malice, and all uncharitableness " of the family circle had reached
a fearful height, and led to the aspersion of Mrs.
N —'s character. They accused her and her
friend of too great an intimacy, and even spread
the slander among their acquaintances, and endeavored thereby to deprive Mrs. N-  of a second visit from her congenial young friend. She
was however so thoroughly convinced of the falsehood of the charge, that she treated it with silent
contempt, and paid the expected visit. The result of her careful examination of the parties
was, that perfect delicacy and propriety marked
their intercourse, that no tender sentiment existed on his side, but that on hers she was struggling to conceal a love that amounted to idolatry.
This generous young friend determined to do all
she could to save the reputation and future wellbeing of Mrs. N -, even at the expense of some
present happiness. She sought a private interview with the philosopher, told him of the slanders which were in circulation, and besought him
not to compromise the reputation of his friend




UNHAPPY MARRIAGES.         183
by continuing his great intimacy. He replied,
" You are a brave woman, to dare to speak so
to me, and I honor you for it. I have wished
a thousand times to break my chains, but I
am so bound by innumerable obligations to the
lady, that it seems like the blackest ingratitude
to break up the intimacy." -" Your obligations
to her should make you careful of her good repute; better be thought ungrateful than be the
cause of a real injury." -"You are right; I
see it all now, as I never did before; I will cut
the connection at once." — " Do not be too rash;
break off by degrees; you are going to Scotland
for several months, do not write to her during
your absence, and when you return, visit her
only as a common acquaintance. This advice
was followed, the lady's reputation was saved,
and though she suffered for a while, she realized
the danger she had escaped, and sought occupation and interest in establishing a boardingschool for twelve poor orphans, whom she fed
and clothed and educated out oi her own allowance for pin-money.
She survived her husband many years, and became a great traveller; but whether she ever
found her way into the "kingdom of God on
earth," I do not know, for I lost sight of her
when I came to this country.




184    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XXII.
GREENWICH OBSERVATORY. - MRS. SOMERVILLE. -
DR. ROBINSON.- OBSERVATORY AT ARMAGH.
WHEN travelling in Europe, it is a great
advantage to belong to some profession,
or to be devoted to some special object, as that
introduces you to persons of similar pursuits,
who feel a pleasure in forwarding your views,
and pay you attentions accordingly.
I never was aware of this until I travelled with
my husband, who was an astronomer and mathematician, and so well known as such, in England,
that the Professor of Mathematics in Cambridge
wrote to him, " Come to Cambridge; you need
bring no letters of introduction; we all know
you, and we want to see you."
When Mr. Farrar visited the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, I was allowed to accompany
him, and the gentleman who received us, told me
that I was enjoying a privilege which no duchess
in the land could command. So much for being
the wife of an astronomer.
No spot in England was visited by the Harvard
Professor with so much interest as that plain




MRS. SOMERVILLE.         185
one-story building, on a small but abrupt hill, in
Greenwich Park. We went all over it just before noon, and wished to see the observer take
the sun's meridian, but that was not allowed, for
it was a matter of such nice observation, that the
mere breathing of another person in the room
might spoil its accuracy. This fact interested
him. He looked with reverence on a spot which
had been the fountain of such rich streams of
science, and was so intimately connected with the
history of astronomy.
As soon as that distinguished astronomer, Mrs.
Somerville, heard that Mr. Farrar was in London,
she sent him a message by Lucy Aiken, to ask
him to come and see her, and to say she would
be at home every morning during the next week,
till he came, that she might be sure to see him.
She sent me word that she never made any calls,
or she would come to see me, but she hoped I
would accompany my husband.
We of course obeyed this gratifying summons,
and went down to Chelsea early in the week.
Dr. Somerville was governor of the hospital there
for invalid soldiers, and lived in the building,
where he had a handsome suite of apartments.
He met us in the hall, and ushered us into a large
room, which seemed to be a library and drawingroom all in one. There sat the pretty, refined,
and elegant woman, who had astonished the sci



186    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
entific world by her translation and thorough
comprehension of La Place's grand work on the
mechanism  of the heavens.  She received us
most cordially, and after a few minutes of general
conversation, Dr. Somerville invited me to the
other end of the room to look at a cabinet of
minerals, collected by his wife. While showing
them, he was continually looking over his shoulder at Mrs. Somerville and Mr. Farrar. At last
he exclaimed, "Ah! they have got at it now;
I thought they would, if we left them alone."
Sure enough, they were talking away on the
higher branches of mathematics and astronomy.
Several oil paintings, of Swiss scenery, attracted my observation, and Dr. Somerville told
me they were done by his wife, from sketches
made from nature, and that her favorite recreation was a tour in Switzerland. He showed me
also a collection of botanical specimens gathered
there. So I discovered that this great mathematician was also a botanist, mineralogist, and
artist.
The two astronomers so enjoyed talking together, that I was obliged, at last, to interrupt
them and remind my husband that it was time to
go. Mrs. Somerville would not let us depart
without naming a day when we would dine with
her, and meet the Astronomer Royal, Mr. Bailey.
That done, we drove back to town, delighted




MRS. SOMERVILLE.         187
with our visit. Mr. Farrar was full of admiration for the extraordinary attainments of Mrs.
Somerville, and not less charmed by her feminine
graces and modest unpretending manners.
Our dinner visit proved equally agreeable.
We then saw her two grown-up daughters, and
met the Astronomer Royal. The conversation
was on common topics; the dinner was simple -
not many dishes- but everything of the best;
and I observed that the footman took his orders
about the dinner from his master. As the Doctor was obliged to cater for the hospital, I suppose he took the care of providing for his own
table. Mrs. Somerville's exquisite toilette and
the dressing of her beautiful brown hair showed
that the most abstruse studies had detracted
nothing from a proper womanly attention to appearances.
When the ladies retired from the dinner-table,
we all looked over a box of birds just arrived
from South America, and admired their brilliant
plumage. They were prepared for stuffing, with
the flesh and bones taken out, and the box contained a great number of them. Leaving the
young ladies to talk ornithology over them, I
asked Mrs. Somerville to tell me what first turned
her attention to mathematics, and she very readily gave me the following particulars.
Her father, Admiral Fairfax, was constantly at




188    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
sea, in the service of his country, and her mother
lived in a very retired spot in Scotland, during his
absence. The only village near them was within
walking distance, and the family often went there
to make small purchases, and visit the rooms of
the dressmaker and milliner, who took a magazine which contained the fashions. Looking over
it one day, Mrs. Somerville saw some questions
given which were to be answered by algebra.
She did not know what algebra was, but she
thought she could answer them by an arithmetical calculation. This she did very easily, and
in the next number of the magazine she saw that
she was right. Her curiosity, however; was excited as to what algebra was, and she made inquiries of Dr. Somerville, the father of her present husband. He referred her to the article on
algebra in the Encyclopedia, which he possessed,
and she carried the heavy volume home. She
soon understood the subject, and was delighted
with that method of doing sums. Her father
was with them in Edinburgh the following winter,
and there she found the aid she needed, and pursued her studies into the higher branches of
mathematics, and became so fond of the science,
that it has since been her most delightful occupation.
When we ordered our carriage to return to
town Dr. Somerville asked if we could give Mr.




MRS. SOMERVILLE.         189
Bailey a seat in it, which we were happy to do.
The two astronomers talked incessantly all the
way to London, and I listened in silent amazement, at not being able to understand anything
they said. They seemed to me to be talking in
hints and half-spoken phrases; they were so familiar with their subject that a word or two was
sufficient to convey their ideas; but to me they
were unintelligible. The effect was very curious
of having people converse in English, without
being able to comprehend what they said.
I was told, by a common friend, that Mrs.
Somerville was a good Greek and Latin scholar,
and that she spoke French and Italian well; but
she told me herself that she never could learn
German, and she had tried hard; for it was the
favorite language of her daughters, who always
spoke it to each other.
I saw Mrs. Somerville but once more, and then
she did me the favor of calling on me in London,
and spending an hour. She was then full of
feeling for a friend in affliction, and talked chiefly of her. Mrs. Somerville was married twice,
and this gave rise to the mistake which made La
Place say, that he was astonished to hear that
there were two Englishwomen who could understand his Mecanique Celeste. After her second
marriage she was in Paris, and La Place called
to see her. He found a lady in her saloon, with




190    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
whom he talked for some time of the opera and
the on dits of the day. After a while, he said, he
had called to see Madame Somerville, and hoped
she was at home, when to his surprise, he found
that the pretty woman he was talking with was
the lady herself.
We made the acquaintance of another very
agreeable astronomer, Dr. Robinson of the Observatory at Armagh, to whom Miss Edgeworth
gave us a letter of introduction, and of whom
she spoke in such high terms that we altered our
route on purpose to see him.
We arrived at the inn at Armagh on a Saturday morning, and despatched our letter to the
Doctor. He sent word that he would call in the
morning, and the next day he was with us before
church time, invited us to sit in his pew, to dine
with his family at five o'clock, and to look at his
instruments in the evening. In this first interview we were willing to believe that all Miss
Edgeworth had said of him was true. I thought
him one of the most agreeable men I had ever
met with.
We attended cathedral service in a small chapel
of ease, which was used while the cathedral was
being restored, and, after the service, Dr. Robinson took us all over the ancient edifice, and talked
of it with the science of an architect and the
enthusiasm of an antiquary, showing us how the




OBSERVATORY AT ARMAGH.       191
best things in it had been covered up by centuries
of patching. At that time the Bishop of Armagh
was Lord John Beresford, a single man with a
large fortune besides his church benefice, the
emoluments of which he devoted to public works.
He had given eight thousand pounds to the repairs of the cathedral.
Dr. Robinson took us to the top of the cathedral tower, whence we had a fine view of the town
and the adjacent country. We saw the Primate's
house and park, the monument erected to employ
the poor, the court-house, library, and other public buildings. While conversing about the soil
and population of Ireland, Dr. Robinson toldus
there were four hundred inhabitants to every
square mile, and said," With this fertile soil and
abundant power of labor, this land might be one
of the most prosperous in the world, were it not
for bad legislation and Papacy."  After much
pleasant chat, Dr. Robinson left us. A little before five o'clock we walked up to the Observatory,
where, in a neat stone house attached to it, the
astronomer lived. We were most cordially received by Mrs. Robinson, and partook of a nice
family dinner with two other guests and two
young sons of the Doctor. After dinner we were
shown into the Observatory, and Mr. Farrar was
much interested in seeing some of Dr. Robinson's
improvements and contrivances for rendering his




192    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
means of observation the most perfect in the
world. The American astronomer had labored
for years for the establishment of an observatory
in Cambridge, Mass., and had not relinquished
the hope, so he looked with peculiar interest at
the arrangements of the Observatory in Armagh.
We were both so absorbed in the subject, that
Mrs. Robinson could hardly get us into the house
again when tea was ready.
A cloudy night prevented our seeing the heavenly bodies, but our host amused us with a very
fine microscope, which was equally good by lamp
or sunlight.  The subjects were well selected
and beautifully arranged, and Dr. Robinson held
forth upon them as though his peculiar vocation
had been natural history instead of astronomy.
Among numerous other curiosities, we were shown
the difference of structure between the fibre of
cotton and flax,- a difference which has settled
the question of whether cotton was known to the
ancient Egyptians, and proved all the mummy
cloth to be linen. Dr. Robinson talked of the
new discoveries of the polarization of light in a
way highly gratifying to Mr. Farrar, who had
paid much attention to the subject. He put a
thin piece of tourmaline into the microscope,
making the light pass through it, and showing
how certain colors were retained while others disappeared, - strained out, as it were. He showed




ORSERVATORY AT ARMAGH.        193
us steel buttons, in which prismatic colors were
produced by lines cut on them, so fine as to be
invisible to the naked eye. Many other interesting objects were presented to us in this fine microscope, and the evening passed but too quickly
away.
Mrs. Robinson appeared to be the worthy and
congenial partner of the Doctor. A frank cordiality made us at once feel at ease as her guests.
Taking care not to interfere with her husband's
exhibitions, she, too, showed us many pretty
things. Among them I remember a beautiful
little temple, about eighteen inches high, with an
equestrian statue on the top, and several fulllength figures standing in it, all made by a young
lady, in white card-paper. The cornices, volutes,
carved friezes, and ceilings, were all done by cuttings in card-paper. It was of unsullied whiteness, much as it must have been handled in the
making.   We were told that the lady never
worked on it in a room with a fire, for fear of its
getting sullied. It was kept under a glass shade.
We saw a paper clock, too, done in the same
way.
It was late before we could put an end to this
delightful visit, and on returning to our inn, it
was long before we could subside into rest. The
next morning we went again to the Observatory,
by invitation of Dr. Robinson, who wished to
9                       M




194    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
show the American Professor more of his fine
instruments and his peculiar contrivances for
working with them to the best advantage. I remember only one of these, which was screwing
on to his telescope, when not in use, a bottle of
lime, to keep the speculum dry.




A REMARKABLE WOMAN.         195
CHAPTER       XXIII.
A REMARKABLE WOMAN.
T   HERE comes before me now, with great distinctness, the image of a very handsome and
highly gifted woman, whose career was rather remarkable. She was about twenty-five years old
when I became acquainted with her. We were
both guests of an English gentleman, about to
emigrate to America with a large family of motherless children, between the ages of ten and
twenty. She came highly recommended, by an
intimate friend of the family, to try whether she
could make herself acceptable as a companion to
the elder girls, and useful as a teacher to the
younger ones. I was there to pass a few weeks
with my oldest and dearest friends, before losing
them forever in the backwoods of America, and
I was to help the father, Mr. K-, to decide
whether Miss D-    was the right person to accompany his children to the New World.
She immediately perceived that it was important for her to conciliate my good opinion, and
she laid herself out to do it most successfully. I
was charmed by her beauty, and by her varied




196   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
powers and accomplishments. She had a rich
and mellow voice, and sang by ear, without any
accompaniment, and with more expression and
feeling than any one I ever heard, except Jenny
Lind.  Her recitations, too, were wonderfully
fine. She would stand up in the middle of the
room and personate two or three characters in a
play, and so change her voice that, with your
eyes shut, you would suppose there were several
speakers. She read aloud delightfully, and her
narrating was equally excellent. With all these
accomplishments she had not neglected the useful arts. She was a capital seamstress, and despatched her work with a rapidity that seemed
like magic. If all women could sew as she did,
sewing-machines need never to have been invented. The art of cooking was not less familiar
to her. She had kept house for several years for
a bachelor brother, in London, and was quite at
home in all the details of housekeeping. She
proved so delightful an addition to this family
party in their quiet country life, that all were
desirous that she should accompany them to
America. We found out by degrees, that her
relations were not aware of her being at Mr.
K —'s, and knew nothing of her intention to
expatriate herself; so he very properly told her
he could not take her with him without the consent of her mother, who was her only surviving




A REMARKABLE WOMAN.         197
parent.  This gave her great uneasiness, but
after much hesitation, she consented to his having a personal interview with her mother, and
asking her consent.
Mr. K-     was no sooner gone, than Miss
D — became very ill with a high fever, attended by spasms and delirium. As I was the
oldest person in the house, and much interested
in her, I became her nurse, and had the whole
charge of her night and day. We had to send
four miles for a physician, and he could only see
her once in twenty-four hours. A great responsibility, therefore fell on me. Her delirium intermitted, and when she found she had been so
affected, she seemed much alarmed, and begged
me to tell her everything she had said, and not
to let any one but myself be in the room when
she was again delirious. I promised her I would
not, and told her she had disclosed no secrets;
that she fancied herself travelling in America,
but not with the K —  family; they were always
in advance of her, and she was trying to get up
with them. She questioned me closely as to all
she had said, and seemed satisfied at last that her
secrets were safe. Sometimes, when delirious,
she would sing most sweetly, in such subdued
tones that it sounded as if it were afar off; and
in the dead of night, when watching alone with
her, these strains came like heavenly music, and I




198    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
often thought they would usher her into the land
of spirits. She had spasms of the muscles so
violent, that when lying in bed, too weak to make
any voluntary movement, she would rise directly
up and throw herself on to the floor, at the foot
of her bed. At last these spasms attacked her
heart, and one night the physician remained with
us, and with his finger on her pulseless wrist, expected every hour to be her last. That was the
crisis of her disease. A warm bath relieved her,
and she began to recover from that time. When
Mr. K     returned, having obtained the consent
of her mother to her going to America, that news
was to her as the elixir of life, and she recovered
rapidly.
She had judged wisely in preferring a personal
interview with her mother to any letter that Mr.
K —   could have written, for there was that in
his looks and manner which inspired confidence
in all who conversed with him, and he had promised that anxious mother to be a father to her
child, and that, if she continued with him to his
death, she should have a daughter's portion of
his property.
Preparations for quitting England were carried
on now with great spirit and cheerfulness. I
could not help wondering at the willingness of
the whole family to quit their ancestral halls,
until a conversation with Mr. K — explained it.




A REMARKABLE WOMAN.         199
He considered England on the eve of revolution.
It was at the time when the people were clamoring for a Parliamentary reform, and the riots at
Manchester and other places, made many fear a
general uprising. Mr. K —    was a reformer,
and was intimate with the radical leaders. He
knew that in case there was an insurrection, he
could not help taking a prominent part in it.
He was old, and wished to avoid a bloody revolution. He admired a republican form of government, and desired of all things to live and die
under it, and to establish his children in the
United States. He had imbued them with his
principles, and they all looked eagerly forward
to being citizens of a free Republic.
A family with whom Mr. K —    had long been
intimate, and whom we will call by the name of
Lawless, intended to follow him to America, and
their eldest son was already there, exploring the
Western States, and fixing on a locality where
they could make a settlement. Soon after the
K     s landed in New York, he joined them,
and persuaded them that the prairies of Illinois
would be their "promised land."  Several young
Englishmen had emigrated with Mr. K-, and
a large cavalcade proceeded westward on horseback. There were no railroads then.
Though their journey was long and sometimes
wearisome, they found much to interest them in




200    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
the natural productions of the country, and the
manners and customs of the people. It was soon
obvious to all the party that Mr. Lawless was
devoted to Miss D-, and that they were very
much in love with each other. When this was
pointed out to Mr. K -, he said it could not be,
for Mr. Lawless had a wife in England. That
good old man thought too well of both the parties
to believe they could do wrong, and great was his
dismay and grief when Mr. Lawless informed him
that he intended to marry Miss D, and remain in a certain town through which they had
passed. Mr. K —    remonstrated in vain, and
was told that a suit was instituted against the
wife in England, which would certainly end in
divorce, and he only anticipated his freedom in
marrying now.
Here, then, was the explanation of Miss D-'s
anxiety to come to the United States. She only
made use of the K -   s in order to join her
lover, and this was the secret she was so afraid
of divulging in her delirium.
The marriage ceremony was performed, and
she settled in a Western city, where she soon
made friends and became the most popular woman
ti.ere. Her domestic virtues claimed their approbation, and her accomplishments charmed them.
She never made invidious comparisons between
the Old World and the New; she accepted willing



A REMARKABLE WOMAN.          201
ly all the novelties and peculiarities of the society
she was in, and was too happy to find fault with
anything. At the end of several months, her
husband was obliged to go to England on business, and during his absence she became a mother.
Nothing could exceed the kind attentions she received on that occasion. One elderly lady, the
wife of a distinguished citizen, acted the part of
mother to her, and she was made much of by all
her friends.
While basking in this sunshine of social happiness, and never dreaming of a change, a rumor
reached the city that she was not the legal wife
of Mr. Lawless. She was too marked a character
not to be much discussed, and at first the rumor
was discredited; but at last information was received which left no doubt of its being a case of
bigamy, and by the time her husband returned
she had lost all her popularity, was deserted by
her friends, and was glad to fly with him to the
West, and lead the life of a pioneer's wife.
9*




202    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XXIV.
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.
A   YOUNG Princess, who is heir to the British
throne, becomes an object of great interest
and curiosity to every little girl in the kingdom,
especially to those who are nearly of her own age;
and the Princess Charlotte, daughter of George
IV., was rendered peculiarly interesting by the
unhappy circumstances of her childhood. Separated from her mother, tyrannized over by her
father, over-disciplined by her grandmother and
aunts, she was an object of love and pity to the
nation. Very different was her bringing up from
that which her cousin Victoria received from her
judicious mother, the Duchess of Kent. The
Princess Charlotte was bequeened from her very
birth, and never knew what it was to be free from
the restraints of royalty, while the Princess Victoria was treated like any nobleman's child, and
was kept in ignorance of her being heir presumptive to the throne until she was ten years old,
when she discovered it by looking into an almanac.
When the Princess Charlotte was four years




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.         203
old, she was allowed to play with a little girl of
her own age, and they were both to partake of a
supper of bread and milk. A silver bowl and a
gold spoon were given to the royal child, whilst
her little companion had a china bowl and a silver
spoon. This so displeased the Princess, that she
threw herself on the floor and kicked and screamed
for a china bowl and a silver spoon.
In this way her royal state was always made an
irksome bondage to her; and it is not to be wondered at that a high-spirited child should sometimes prove restive under such senseless restraints.
The public always sympathized with her, and
heard with pleasure of her rebellious acts.
One of these I well remember hearing of at the
time, and being rebuked for admiring it. Queen
Charlotte, grandmother to the Princess, took her
to task for her want of dignity in her manner of
getting into her carriage.  She told her she
should never forget that she was the future queen
of England. She promised to do differently next
time, and so she did. For, refusing to be handed
in as usual, she desired the attendants to stand
back, and running violently through the hall, she
leaped into the carriage at one bound, and, laughing merrily, told those near her to let the Queen
know how dignified she was.
Besides having ladies in waiting, and governesses and tutors of all sorts, she had the Bishop




204    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
of London for her adviser and religious teacher.
Finding how very passionate she was, he wrote a
short prayer for her to repeat every time she felt
her anger rising. So one day when he visited
her, he was told of her having been in a great
passion with the head-governess, and he said that
he feared she had not repeated the prayer he gave
her. She replied, " 0, yes, I did. I should have
struck her if I had not said your prayer."
As soon as she was old enough to know anything about the separation of her parents, and
their detestation of each Qther, she espoused her
mother's cause, and was consequently much disliked by her father. She was removed from her
mother's house at the age of eight years, and
only allowed to see her once a week; but as she
grew older, and becamre acquainted with her
mother's wrongs, she kept up a secret correspondence with her, in spite of her father's commands and the watchful eyes around her. He
suspected that her household favored this intercourse, and he determined to put a stop to it.
In a private interview, he informed his daughter
that he should change her household, and remove
her to Cranbourn Lodge, in Windsor Forest. He
then dismissed her, and told her to send Lady
--    to him.
Shocked and alarmed by these sudden changes,
dreading to be sent to a secluded spot, twenty




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.         205
miles from London, and -fearing she would never
be allowed to see her mother again, she resolved
to rush off at once to Connaught House, and have
at least one interview with her, before she was
banished to Windsor Forest. Instead of sending
her governess to her father, she ran down a back
stair-case into the street, without bonnet or shawl,
found a hackney-coach, jumped into it, and told
the coachman to drive to Connaught Place. Arrived there she found that her mother was at
Black Heath. She told the coachman to drive
down to Black Heath. He said it was not possible for his horses to go so far. She told him who
she was, and that he must take her to her mother.
He was sorry not to oblige her, but his old nags
would drop down by the way, and then where
would her Ladyship be. According to the account I heard at the time, she then drove to the
house of the Prime Minister, and, alighting there,
begged him to order his carriage and send her in
it to Black Heath. This he dared not do. He
told her that she must obey her father; that he,
as Regent, had absolute power over the persons
of all the royal family while under age. She
wished to see her mother's legal adviser, Lord
Brougham, and he was sent for.    Meanwhile
the Prime Minister had sent a messenger to the
Regent, to tell him where his daughter was,
and that she would soon return home. Several




206    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
important personages gathered round her, and
many hours were consumed in listening to her
complaints and endeavoring to reconcile her to
her inevitable fate.
This extraordinary flight of the Princess, and
her so bravely putting aside all the restraints of
royalty for the sake of a parting interview with
her mother, so touched all hearts capable of appreciating her feelings and the force of her character, that she became the idol of the people.
Even the hackney-coach she had used, and the
old man who had driven her, were made of great
importance. Thousands of persons were desirous, for her sake, of riding in that carriage.
This proof of her popularity was very displeasing
to the Regent, and he gave orders to have the
coach destroyed, the horses shot, and the coachman sent away from London.
When the Prince of Wales became possessed
of regal power, as Regent, he abandoned all his
old friends, the Whigs, and allied himself with
Tories. His daughter, being at a dinner-party at
Carlton House, heard her father speak contemptuously of the very men whom he had formerly
recommended to her as her counsellors, and the
thought that she should never be able to choose
the best advisers, if her father had been so mistaken in his, made her burst into tears. It was
this circumstance that Byron so pungently commemorates in the following lines:



PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.         207
"Weep, daughter of a royal line,
A sire's disgrace, a realm's decay;
Too happy, if each tear of thine
Could wash a father's guilt away."
When the allied sovereigns were in London,
after the battle of Waterloo and the capture of
Paris, the Princess Charlotte appeared at court,
in all the splendor of her position, as heir to the
throne, and all the beauty of youth, with a welldeveloped form, handsome features, and a finely
shaped head well set on her shoulders. She was
eighteen years of age, and a desirable marriage
must be sought for her. The Prince of Orange
was a suitor, highly favored by the Regent and
all his family, but he did not please the Princess,
and the affair was in suspense, when the Duchess
of Oldenburg, sister of the Emperor of Russia,
resolved to prevent that alliance. She wanted
the house of Orange to be connected with Russia,
by a marriage with a Russian princess, and she
contrived to have the young Prince made so inintoxicated at a court ball, that when he danced
with the Princess Charlotte, he completely disgusted her, and she resolved that night she would
never marry him.
That one surrounded as she was by court etiquette and Tory influences, dictated to by a heartless father, and watched over by an unfeeling
grandmother and aunts, should be able to make




208    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
a love-match, was very extraordinary, and I can
only attribute it to a kind Providence, who sent
her this great blessing to make up for all the bitter trials of her childhood. It was brought about
in this way. Prince Leopold came to London
with the allied sovereigns, and was the bearer of
a letter to Princess Charlotte, from a friend of
hers on the Continent, who instructed him to ask
for a private interview, and deliver the missive
himself. This he did, and that first interview
established a sympathy between them which soon
ripened into love. Before asking the Princess in
marriage, of her father, he returned to Paris,
made his proposals from there, and had them approved and recommended to the Regent by some
of the royal personages about him.
He was soon allowed to return to London, the
accepted lover of the Princess; and then began
that happy life which continued unabated through
the rest of her short career. To one who had
never known the endearments of family ties, had
never poured out her feelings to a mother or
sister or brother, and was allowed very few intimacies, this heart-union with a true and noble
character, this tenderest of all affections, this outpouring of the inmost feelings to a sympathizing
soul, must have had peculiar charms, and made
her the happiest woman in England.
The whole nation appeared to rejoice in her




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.        209
happiness. Statesmen of all parties approved of
the alliance. Persons of all classes exulted in its
being a love-match; and she looked forward to
her marriage as tile means of delivering her from
much of the etiquette and formality of the court,
which had always been so distasteful to her.
When they were discussing in Parliament what
her income should be, and some speeches made
which rendered it probable that it would be less
than had been expected, she said, " If they will
not give us enough to live as Prince and Princess,
we will live as Mr. and Mrs. Leopold, and I shall
like that quite as well."
Princess Charlotte had always wished that she
had been born the daughter of a nobleman, and
envied those whom she knew, their free country
life on their paternal estates. She therefore resolved that her future residence should be far
enough from London to afford her rural pleasures.
Accordingly, the handsome estate of Claremont,
in the parish of Esher, in the beautiful county of
Surrey, was purchased for her, and met all her
wishes. The house had been long unoccupied,
and numerous workmen were employed in making
it fit for a royal residence. The porter's lodge
had been rented for a dame's school, and the old
woman who kept it was greatly troubled at being
obliged to quit the premises. In answer to the
Princess's numerous inquiries about all that was
N




210    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
going on at Claremont, she was told this, and she
immediately said, "The poor old soul must not
be turned out. If she will give up her school
she may remain and be my porteress." To all
the remonstrances of her courtly friends on the
necessity of having a man for her porter, and the
want of style in having an old woman to open
her palace gates, she turned a deaf ear; and the
next time she drove down to Claremont she made
the dame very happy by telling her she might remain in the lodge. A faithful gate-keeper she
proved, for having received orders to admit no
visitors without a pass from a gentleman in the
village who was appointed to give them, she refused to open the gates for a royal duke, because
he had no permit. In vain he told her that he
was uncle to her mistress, and had a right to go
in. She would not let him pass; and he humored
her by sending an outrider for the required ticket,
and chatting with her the while. On hearing this
account of her old woman the Princess was delighted, and exulted in her choice of a female
porter.
The marriage took place in Carlton House, and
was as private as the Princess could make it. She
went down to Claremont as soon as it was over,
and, by a secret arrangement of hers and a sudden departure from the palace, she escaped having
two maids of honor in the same carriage with




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.        211
herself and Prince Leopold. A gentleman who
saw her, as she passed out of the court before
Carlton House, told me that she was laughing
heartily at the success of her plan for being
tete a t^te with her husband on their drive to their
new home.
I had friends in Esher with whom I used to
stay weeks at a time, and there I always heard
interesting anecdotes of the royal pair at Claremont, all showing how rationally and happily they
spent their time. The old dame at the lodge
furnished one amusing incident. The Prince
and Princess were fond of long evening walks,
and having rambled through their own woods till
they came to a gate whicl opened on the high
road, they passed through it and returned through
the village to their own front gates, and passed
through the smaller opening for foot-passengers,
leaving the gate open behind them. The old porteress seeing them pass supposed them to be some
part of the household, but had no idea of who
they were; so she called after them to come back
and shut the gate. The Princess enjoyed the
mistake, obeyed the command, and told of it as a
good joke. The poor old dame soon heard of it
and was in great trouble about it. The next day
the Prince drove his wife down the avenue in a
curricle with a pair of gay horses. When they
approached the gateway, out ran Goody and




212    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
plumped down on her knees in the middle of the
carriage-way, with uplifted arms imploring pardon.
The Prince called out, " Get out of the way; you
frighten the horses."  The Princess made him
stop whilst she received the apologies which the
poor old woman addressed to " my Lady Princess
ma'am"; these three titles she always gave her,
which so amused her royal mistress, that she
would not allow of her being corrected.
In one of their long walks the happy pair
found in a corner of their domain which they
had not before visited, a nice little cottage inhabited by the widow of a former gardener on the
place. They seated themselves in her little kitchen and talked with her without her knowing who
they were. She said there was a rabbit warren
near there, and she did long to catch some of
them, for there was nothing she loved so much as
a rabbit pie. The Prince told her he would come
and shoot some rabbits for her; she begged him
not to do that, for it would be robbing the grand
folks up at the big house. The Princess observed
that the open Bible on the table was very old and
worn, and the type small and indistinct; so the
next evening she. drove there in her pony-chair
and carried her a large new Bible, very clearly
printed. When she gave it to her, she told her
to look first at a certain chapter in Genesis, and
drove off. She had put there a five-pound banknote.




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.        213
Prince Leopold often amused himself with
shooting the game on his estate, and the Princess would accompany him and bag the birds and
carry them herself. He visited the warren and
shot some rabbits for the good widow. By the
time he carried them to her she had found out
who he was, and was much pleased to receive
them from him.
Princess Charlotte had a fancy to taste one of
the poor woman's rabbit pies; so she asked her
to come to her house and make one for her. This
was a very alarming request, and I have heard
the widow tell how she dreaded going to the great
house; what fear she had of all the fine servants
there, and how, though they were very civil to
her, she knew they were laughing at her homely
ways. She said she was so " flustered" she hardly knew what she was about, but she managed to
make the pie, and her Royal Highness said it was
very good.
I was one of many strangers who visited this
widow, after the death of Princess Charlotte, on
purpose to hear these anecdotes. They show
forth the goodness of her heart, and account
for the ardent love with which she inspired all
around her.
The Princess Charlotte was naturally hightempered, passionate, and wilful, and it had always cost her a great deal of self-discipline to




214    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
submit to the authority exercised over her, by so
many people as helped to govern her; but when
she came under the dominion of love, she found
it easy to yield to the will of one whose interests
were identified with her own, and whose character commanded her esteem and reverence. All
who know her disposition were surprised to see
her so docile and amiable towards her husband,
and only one instance is remembered of her ever
resenting his control, and that was an ebullition
of temper that passed away very quickly, and
never was repeated. It happened thus.
A greenhouse was to be built near the house,
and several plans were submitted to the inspection of the Princess. She chose one that cost far
more than either of the others. The Prince advised her to have a less expensive one, saying, he
could build that now, without exceeding his income, but if she chose to have the more costly
one, they must wait till another year for it, as he
was resolved to live within his income. This affronted the Princess, and she declared that if she
could not have the one she liked, she would have
none. This was just before dinner, and she was
evidently out of humor during the meal. At last
she sent her plate to the Prince, saying, " I will
take some of your dish, if you can afford it."
He was shocked, but said nothing. It was his
custom, when the ladies left the table, to hid the




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.        215
Princess into the drawing-room, and converse with
her a few minutes before returning to the diningroom; this day, he handed her out in silence,
made a low bow, and left her immediately. She
burst into tears, and retired to her most private
apartment.
When the gentlemen came into the drawingroom, the Prince observed her absence, and went
directly in search of her. At the end of half an
hour, they reappeared on excellent terms with
each other, and the less expensive greenhouse
was built that year.
One of the Princess's funny speeches came to
me very direct. She said, the Prince had cured
her of two antipathies, one was to a boiled leg of
pork, and the other was to her grandmother.
I cannot think the cure was very perfect, for
when the Queen sent her a beautiful lace babycap, she put it on the end of a poker, and thrust
it into the middle of a coal fire. When the
Queen offered to be with her at the time of her
confinement, her presence was absolutely refused. To conceal the mortifying fact, the Queen
was immediately ordered by her physician to
drink the Bath waters, and away she went to that
city, which was a hundred miles from London,
and there she remained till after the death of the
Princess.
Yery pleasant is it to me to recall all I have




216    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
known of the life of this beloved Princess, but to
tell of her confinement and death is a painful
task, believing, as I do, that she was sacrificed to
the vanity of her accoucheur and the ignorance
of the ladies around her. Had she been a peasant's wife, she would in all probability have lived
to be a happy mother.
It had always been customary for two accoucheurs to share the responsibility of a royal birth,
but the vanity and ambition of Sir Richard
Croft, made him request to be the only one employed, and when it proved a very protracted labor, he was so weighed down by the responsibility he had assumed, as to be wholly unequal to
the exigencies of the case. No one thought of
sustaining the Princess's strength either by food
or stimulants, and soon after she was delivered
of a still-born child, she sank away into the arms
of death.
Her previous good health and fine spirits, had
prevented any one from feeling any apprehensions of the approaching crisis, and the news of
her death came like a thunder-clap upon the nation. One wail of sorrow went through the land.
Never was a royal personage more universally regretted, or more deeply lamented. No need of
orders for a general mourning; the poorest laborer wore some badge of it, and in all public
assemblages nothing but black was seen. It was




PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.       217
put on, too, on hearing of her death, instead of
waiting till she was buried.
The afflicted husband tried to escape from the
forms of court etiquette, and all the heartless
ceremonials which belonged to the occasion, by
shutting himself up in her favorite sitting-room,
where they had passed together their last happy
hours, and when obliged to quit it, he locked the
door and kept the key, lest something of hers
should be moved. Her hat and cloak were on a
fire-screen, just where she had thrown them on
returning from her last walk, and when I visited
the house, twelve months after her death, that
room was still shut up, and nothing in it had
been removed.
She was, according to custom, buried at midnight, by torchlight, and I well remember sitting
up in my bed to listen to the tolling of the parish
bell, on that night, when all the other churchbells throughout the United Kingdom were sending forth the same solemn tones. She was buried
in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, and the coffin
was let down slowly through the floor into a vault
underneath. Prince Leopold, as chief mourner,
was seated at the head of the coffin, and was so
absorbed in grief, that he did not perceive that
they were lowering the coffin, until he raised his
head and found it gone. A brother of mine was
watching him at the time, and said the start he
10




218    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
gave, and the gesture of abandonment to sorrow,
were most expressive and touching.
That same brother set on foot a subscription
for a national monument to the memory of the
Princess. No one was allowed to give more than
a guinea, so as to make it the people's doing, and
the result of that contribution is the grand monument to her memory in St. George's Chapel.




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.        219
CHAPTER XXV.
HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.
THEN I was a young girl, I was constantly hearing the praises of Miss Hannah More. Everybody had read, or was reading,
her religious novel of " Ccelebs in Search of a
Wife," and I used to listen with interest to the
accounts given of her great popularity among
the wits who flourished at the close of the last
century and the beginning of this. I heard, with
wonder, of her being the intimate friend of the
great actor, Garrick, the favorite companion, the
petted darling, of the great moralist, Dr. Johnson, and an honored member of a select literary
club, jocosely called le bas bleu.*  She was also
the author of a tragedy called " Percy," which
had a great success in London, and once had the
pleasure of seeing Mrs. Siddons perform in it,
whilst Garrick sat beside her, delighted both with
the play and its author.
Miss More made one of a circle of highly cultivated, refined, and amiable persons who knew
* From the color of the stockings of Admiral Boscawen, who
was one of its members.




220    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
how to enjoy each others' society in the best manner, and her letters from London to her sisters in
Bristol, give a charming account of her easy intercourse with the highest nobility, the greatest
statesmen, the most gifted artists, the best writers,
in prose and verse, of both sexes, with many delightful persons of fine conversational powers
and perfect hostesses, who knew exactly whom to
bring together, and how to make the most of
their guests' talents and graces. It seemed to
me afterwards, on reading the Life of Miss More,
by Roberts, that there never was before, and
never has been since, such a brilliant society as
that in which she moved as one of its greatest
ornaments, loved and caressed by all. Besides
this circle of beaux esprits, who were her intimate friends, she was occasionally drawn into the
vortex of fashionable life, and unwillingly made
one in the crowded assemblies of the great. The
follies and vices of the gay world could not escape her observation, and she had the moral
courage to attack them in a little work entitled
" Thoughts on the Manners of the Great."
At the time when I first heard of Hannah
More, she had retired from that brilliant society
which she had so long enjoyed, and was devoting
her time and talents to the improvement of the
world in Christian morals. The extensive circulation of Coelebs prepared the public to receive




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.        221
with favor her succeeding works, " Practical
Piety," and " Christian Morals," in which she
employs all the fascination of her style to recommend to the rising generation the strictest life of
self-denial, and the carrying of religion into all
the details of daily conduct. Vast numbers of
young people profited by her lessons, and even
those who thought her ethics too severe, were
nevertheless made better by them. I will mention a signal instance of this in one whom I knew
intimately in her mature years, and from whom
I learned the facts.
Caroline Ford was the only child of a rich
West Indian planter, and came with her parents
to England at the age of sixteen. She was placed
for two years at a fashionable boarding-school,
near London, and then carried to Bath, during
the season of gayety there, and brought out at
a Master of Ceremonies' ball. The handsome
heiress soon became the reigning belle of the
season.  Numerous lovers followed her steps,
and the offers of marriage made to her and her
father were so frequent, that to be refused by
Miss Ford became a joke among her beaux, and
every one of her admirers was expected to try
his fate. Satisfied and happy in her brilliant debut, surrounded by novel pleasures, and full of
engagements, her acquaintance with each of her
lovers was too slight to make any impression on




222    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
her heart, and she was firmly resolved never to
marry without being in love.
When the Bath season was over, Mr. Ford's
family returned to London, where they had
formed a large circle of acquaintances, and anticipated another brilliant career for their daughter; but it was ordered otherwise. She had enjoyed the sunshine of prosperity, and was now to
be tried by adversity. The appalling news came
that the agent, in whose hands Mr. Ford had left
all his property in Jamaica, had absconded, taking
with him all that he could appropriate. The
plantation remained, of course, and the owner
found it necessary to return immediately to it.
Mrs. Ford readily decided to accompany her husband, but she could not bear to deprive her
daughter of the chance of making a suitable
match in England. So it was arranged that she
should be placed, as a parlor boarder, at the same
school where she had been a pupil, and the lady
at the head of the establishment promised to be
a mother to her. She was to accept the invitations of her mother's friends, and to be as much
in society as possible. She was provided with a
lady's maid, to wait upon her, make her dresses
and take care of her wardrobe; and this maid
was also to accompany her mistress wherever she
went in a hired carriage. She was at first so
much depressed by the absence of her parents




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.       223
and the entire change in all her surroundings,
that she could not avail herself of the kindness of
the friends who invited her to their houses. She
had the company of three young ladies, who were
parlor-boarders like herself, and they agreed to
begin a course of reading together, which should
be really useful to their minds. While they were
doubting whether to take history or biography,
Shakespeare or Milton, one of them  proposed
reading a new book just presented to her. It was
Hannah More's " Practical Piety."  The perusal of it produced such an effect on the mind of
Caroline Ford that she resolved to follow her parents to Jamaica, and give up the life of ease and
gayety which they had provided for her. She felt
it to be her duty to share their adversity rather
than increase it by her- expensive mode of life.
The lady of the house admired her self-denial,
but doubted whether her parents would approve
of it. Finding her young friend resolved on acting up to her own sense of duty, she agreed to
let her use for her outfit the next remittance sent
to pay for her board. The lady's maid was now
employed in making up calico dresses and such
plain garments as would be useful and suitable
for plantation life.
In order to avoid the opposition to her departure which she knew that the friends of her parents would make, she kept her intentions a pro



224    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
found secret, engaged her passage in the same
packet which had brought her over from Jamaica,
and when all was ready, made the journey to
Southampton alone. Her funds were just enough
to carry her there, but not sufficient to pay her
passage. As the captain knew her father, she
felt sure that he would not insist on being prepaid. She was not disappointed. One of the
best berths was reserved foroher; but she did not
relish the behavior of the captain. He was altogether too free and patronizing, -making her
feel that she was under an obligation to him.
Her motherly friend was in daily expectation
of another remittance from Mr. Ford, and promised to forward it to her if it arrived before the
packet sailed. All the passengers were on board
and assembled in the cabin when it arrived. She
showed the draft to the captain, and told him she
should not pay him with it, as she owed it to a
friend, who had never taken any advantage of her
want of money, but freely lent her all she had
needed. This hint was sufficient. It procured
for her the respectful treatment she required.
Her fellow-passengers were the Governor of Jamaica, with his family and suite. She was cordially received into their circle, treated as one of
the daughters, and on arriving was carried to the
Governor's house, and made quite at home there.
A letter from Caroline now gave her parents




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.       225
the surprising news that she was near them.
On hearing that she was at the Governor's, her
mother advised her not to hurry home, but to
prolong her stay, where she was in the best society, and might find a good match among the officers whom she would meet there. This was a
sad damper to the filial feelings which had made
her ask for an immediate conveyance home, and
her mind was not attuned to the gay scene around
her. She was much admired and caressed; the
officers of the Governor's staff were devoted to
her; every visitor, but one, distinguished her,
and that one was the surgeon-general of the
forces, -a handsome man, with good manners,
but so silent and reserved as to be little known
or liked. To be wholly neglected by any gentleman within reach of her fascination, was such a
novelty to our heroine, that it drew her attention
to Dr. Bury, and the exchange of a few words
with him made her wish for more. At last he
said to her, " I see you are not happy here; you
wish to go home; and I will drive you there on
any day you will name." If he had been her
good genius, he could not have offered her a
more precious boon. She gratefully accepted his
kind offer, and, bidding adieu to her hospitable
friends, she entered the well-appointed curricle
of the silent bachelor, and a delightful drive of
six hours took her to her father's plantation.
10*                     o




226   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
She and her handsome escort were of course
well received.  He was invited to stay then,
and, on leaving the next day, to repeat his visit
soon. He did not need urging on this point; he
became a frequent visitor, and proved a welcome
variety in the monotonous life of a plantation.
In due time the offer of his hand and heart to
the lovely recluse was joyfully accepted by the
parents, and carefully considered by her. She
preferred him to all other men, was much attached to him, but she feared he would not be as
happy married to a woman without fortune, as
he was as a bachelor. He had an income, besides his pay, but he lived luxuriously, and spent
it all. If he married her, he must provide for
new expenses, and deny himself his old indulgences. How would he bear that? She told him
frankly all her doubts and fears. These he combated, as a lover would, and succeeded in convincing her that his happiness would be greatly
augmented by marrying her. She accepted from
her mother a substantial, but very plain outfit;
and she told me that the very fine ladies of Kingston were much shocked by her appearing as a
bride in a plain straw bonnet, with white ribbons.
Colonial ladies are so afraid of not keeping up
with the fashions of the parent country, that they
are apt to go to extremes, and they were astonished to see one so lately from England in such




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.       227
simple attire. She so arranged her mode of living that her husband's income proved sufficient
for them, without his being aware of any sacrifice of personal indulgence.  Her talent for
thrifty management increased as fast as her family enlarged, so that with three young children,
she spent no more than when first married. Before the fourth child was born, Dr. Bury had sold
his commission, taken his family to England, and
established himself in Bath as a practising physician.  It was there that I first knew them.
She was still very handsome, and was performing
her duties as a wife and mother in a most exemplary manner.
There was at that time an excellent opening
for Dr. Bury to become a successful practitioner
in Bath. The most fashionable physician had
run wild on the subject of natural philosophy,
denying the existence of caloric and advocating
many absurdities. Another doctor had imposed
upon the public by attributing every disease that
came under his notice to the morbid contraction
of one small muscle in the body, and had outraged common sense by his treatment of it.
Nothing is too absurd for the credulity of invalids, and for a while he carried all before him,
but his full-blown fame had just collapsed; his
patients were ashamed of having been under his
care, and were all ready to welcome a new phy



228    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
sician with such antecedents as Dr. Bury. Unhappily this favorable juncture was lost on the
military man, who had been so long in a tropical
climate that his energies were all gone; he could
not screw himself up to the exertion and industry necessary for success as a family physician,
and his practice dwindled instead of increasing.
His wife's father died before he had retrieved his
fortune, and all the trials and burdens of a large
family and a small income fell on Mrs. Bury.
She bore them bravely, and often surprised me
by the indulgence she showed for her husband's
inefficiency.
When she had five boys to educate, she persuaded the Doctor to remove to the ancient town
of Bedford, celebrated for its free grammarschool, founded and endowed in 1556, with eight
exhibitions of eighty pounds a year each, to the
universities of Oxford, Cambridge, and Dublin.
Her sons did not take naturally to books, and the
antiquated mode of instruction then in use at
that grammar-school was not calculated to rouse
their dormant faculties. They only learnt there
what was never of the least use to them in after
life, and they were left in ignorance of all useful
knowledge. In talking with one of these boys,
a lad of sixteen years old, I found that he did not
know whether the sun rose in the east or in the
west; but he could construe Latin.




HANNAH MORE'S CONVERT.       229
Too indolent to make money, and too honorable to run in debt, Dr. Bury, after a long struggle with poverty, made up his mind to emigrate
to Canada, and avail himself, for the sake of his
sons, of the inducements to settle there held out
by his government to men in his situation. I
was in England when he came to this decision,
and he and his two oldest boys took passage in
the same packet in which my husband and I
sailed for New York. We were both painfully
impressed with the extreme unfitness of the trio
for the life they were about to enter upon. Neither of them had read about Canada, or studied
its geography to any purpose.  They did not
know the difference between Upper and Lower
Canada, nor why they were so called, and I labored in vain to interest them in learning more
about it. Dr. Bury was to make a settlement
and have a house built, and then his wife was to
follow with all the other children. Land was assigned to him, and he was about to improve it,
when he was suddenly carried off by cholera.
As soon as the news reached his wife, she resolved, though it was winter, to go directly to
Canada, taking with her her eldest- daughter and
two other children, leaving the rest to follow in
the spring, with a faithful nurse in her employ.
She was impressed with the importance of joining her two sons in Canada, left, as they were, to




230   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
their own guidance on losing their father; and
when asked how she could leave her baby, she
said, My baby can do no wrong; my boys may."
Her timely arrival prevented the land from becoming the exclusive property of the oldest son.
The legal papers which were to convey the land
to Dr. Bury, had not been completed, and an official, who was friendly to the Doctor, kept them
unfinished until some one should appear on behalf of the widow and the rest of the family.
Here we see in the mature woman the same
characteristics which marked her girlhood; the
same resolute devotion to duty, the same uncompromising conscientiousness; and those, with
many other Christian graces, were first called
forth and fostered by the religious works of that
highly gifted and truly devoted woman, Hannah
More.




A CONVERTED JEW.           231
CHAPTER XXVI.
A CONVERTED JEW.
CONVERTED Jew is, to me, a very inter/     esting person, especially if his conversion
to Christianity does not consist in the belief of
certain dogmas peculiar to some sect of Christians,
but rather in his acceptance of the Jesus Christ
of the Gospels as the Messiah so long expected by
the Jews. Erasmus Simon, a learned Jew from
Poland, was thus converted. He became a Christian as the Jews of old did, without belonging to
any particular sect. His father was a learned
rabbi, with a family of sons, who, according to
the custom of his people, were each apprenticed
to a trade, and, when that was learned, they were
allowed to prosecute any studies for which they
had a strong inclination. Erasmus learned watchmaking, and then went to Edinburgh to attend
law lectures. There, to the horror and disgust
of his family, he became a Christian. He knew
that it would separate him from his brethren, but
he would not resist his own convictions; and they
were so strong that he entertained hopes of converting his family, if he could gain a hearing;




232    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
but that he could not do. His father forbade
him his house. He did, however, return to his
neighborhood, and, on conversing with his Jewish
brethren, he found several who believed in Christ,
but were deterred from confessing him before
men by the double persecution that would follow.
For unless they joined the Romish Church, both
Jews and Papists would be their enemies. This
state of things determined Erasmus Simon to seek
a safe asylum for Jews, converted or unconverted, offered by the United States.
He married in Edinburgh a most excellent
woman, one who had always taken a peculiar
interest in the Jews, and was a true helpmate to
him in his benevolent project. She was a worthy
daughter of her mother, who made a voyage to
the East Indies in order to persuade the Bishop
of Calcutta to interfere with and put an end to
the burning of widows in his diocese.
Erasmus Simon was indeed an Israelite without guile, and so upright and honest himself that
he never suspected evil in others. In making
arrangements to come to this country, he was
shamefully imposed upon. He took passage in a
Dutch merchantman, without any decent accommodations for passengers, had a long voyage, and
he and his wife were half starved on bad provisions. Arrived in New York, they presented
their letters of introduction, were kindly received,




A CONVERTED JEW.          233
and encouraged in their design of forming a settlement for converted Jews. They found a society
already established there for the purpose of converting the Israelites, and were advised to act
under its auspices.
It was proposed that Mr. Simon should make
an extensive tour in the Northern States, call
meetings, and set forth the sad condition of those
Jews in Poland who were ready to embrace Christianity, but dared not do it there. He was to
unfold to his hearers his anti-sectarian views, and
his plan of buying land and forming a self-supporting settlement on it for converted Jews, and
contributions were to be taken up for this purpose.
It was while he was on this tour that I became
acquainted with him and his wife, at New Bedford, where they spent a week at my grandfather's
house, and proved very interesting guests. The
simple faith of this Israelite was much approved
by the Quakers there, and they contributed liberally to his scheme. He remitted the money he
collected to the Society for the Conversion of
Jews, in New York, for safe keeping; and when
he had raised a sufficient sum, he was proceeding
to buy land, and was expecting to organize a colony of Jews on the basis he had proposed; but
this was not to be. The Society who held the
money was resolved that the converted Jews from
Poland should accept their creed, and be governed by rules of their making.




234    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
It was not in the nature of Erasmus Simon to
contend for his rights. Chagrined and disappointed, he gave up his cherished scheme, and
left the Society to do as they pleased with the
funds he had raised.
He had now become much interested in the
Indians of North America, and a pamphlet, writteni by Elias Boudinot, called " The Star in the
West," had convinced him that they were the lost
ten tribes of Israel, and he resolved to go among
them and see if he could find anything Jewish in
their traditions and customs. He and his wife
took up their residence on the outskirts of civilization and in the midst of Indians. He preached
the Gospel to them, and she fed and clothed six
Indian boys and taught them to read the Bible.
Some of the natives around them had become
farmers, and raised corn and vegetables. One of
these was known to Mrs. Simon, and she found
him a very interesting character. She was therefore shocked to hear that a company of strolling
players had enlisted him in their number, to act
an Indian part at a town twelve miles off. Mr.
Simon was not at home, but his energetic wife
drove off to that town, found her man, persuaded him that it was a degradation to act with
those players, and asked what he was to receive
for doing it. He said a suit of clothes at the end
of the season. She told him that if he would




A CONVERTED JEW.          235
return with her, and promise never to turn actor,
she would give him a suit of clothes that evening.
He did so, and she gave him her husband's
clothes, at which the poor Indian was delighted;
and, rubbing his hand all over his heart, he said,
" All here tank you, missus."
After a few years thus spent, urgent business
recalled them to England; and in London Mr.
Simon hired a room, in which he used to preach
to the Jews. Several were converted, and he
made their being willing to learn and practice
shoemaking a test of their sincerity. Both of
these excellent and devoted Christians were willing to live in the humblest way, and eat the
plainest food, in order to have the means of helping their Israelitish brethren.




236    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       XXVII.
EDINBURGH.
MONG my pleasant recollections of a short
visit to Edinburgh with my husband, is the
making the acquaintance of Mr. Combe, the
phrenologist, and his handsome wife. They responded most kindly to our letter of introduction,
gave us a dinner, and invited several artists to
meet us.
As we were strangers to the whole party, conversation did not flow readily on our first sitting
down to table. After a pause, Mrs. Combe said
to me, " Have the Americans forgiven my impertinent cousin for her book on their country?"
I suppose that I looked puzzled, for she added,
"Fanny Kemble is my cousin."   I replied that
she had made her peace by marrying an American, and was very popular as Mrs. Butler; and
asked if she were Mrs. Combe's cousin on the
Kemble side. On this she drew herself up, and
looking at a picture, over the fireplace, of Mrs.
Siddons, as Queen Catherine, she said, in a tragic
tone worthy of her descent, " Mistress Siddons is
my mother." Her manner made me feel as if it




EDINBURGH.             237
were a sin not to have known that fact, and I was
silenced for awhile. But soon a gentleman drew
out Mr. Combe on his favorite subject, and he
entertained us with anecdotes of Spurzheim and
Sir Walter Scott, and told of the growth of heads
after maturity. An allusion was made to an attack on him in a review, on which he said, ". The
reviewers have been firing away at me for twenty
years, and I mind them now no more than the
Castle rock does the wind."  Some one observed
that his books had a wider circulation than any
review, and that was answer enough.
When the ladies retired, we found Dr. Andrew
Combe, author of " Principles of Physiology," in
the drawing-room, and I had an interesting conversation with him. Mrs. Combe showed me a
bust of Charles Kemble, modelled by her mother,
and said the art of modelling had been a valuable
occupation to Mrs. Siddons after she retired from
the stage. Mrs. Combe regretted that an early
promise of her mother had obliged her to give to
Mr. Campbell the materials for her mother's
biography, adding, " He was not the right man
to do it." A fine picture of Mrs. Siddons, as
Zaire, was in the drawing-room, and the resemblance of the daughter to the mother was very
strong, -the same commanding appearance, the
same carriage of the head. Mrs. Combe told me
that she and her husband were not in society in




238    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Edinburgh, for, what with party-spirit in politics
and religion, and the odium thrown on phrenology, they were almost proscribed people, being
obnoxious on every account to those who ruled
the world of fashion. From the elegance of their
establishment, either she or her husband must
have had a good fortune, and this, with her personal charms and accomplishments, might have
induced even fashionables to visit her.
We met a party of very pleasant people at the
house of Mr. Murray, the Lord Advocate, and
among them Captain Basil Hall, the traducer of
the Americans. I was pleased to observe that his
manners were as rude and eccentric in his own
country as they had been in the United States.
He said to Mr. Farrar that he was in a very bad
humor when he visited America, and did not do
justice to the country. A poor excuse, but a
proof that he considered an apology necessary.
He told us that Dr. Chalmers was to preach at a
certain church the next day, and that we must go
and hear him. He gave us minute directions
how to get good seats, and urged it upon us that
we must go very early. We followed his instructions, and were well placed in a very crowded
church, where many were obliged to stand through
the whole service. After waiting nearly an hour,
we saw the reverend gentleman walk quickly up
the pulpit stairs between two rows of ladies seat



EDINBURGH.             239
ed on them. He was of middle stature, square
built, with light florid complexion and hair partly
gray, about sixty years of age. His appearance
was prepossessing, and I expected to be much
pleased. My chagrin was therefore great when
he read the hymn and I found it impossible to understand him. His voice was almost inaudible
from hoarseness, his articulation indistinct from
loss of teeth, and a broad Fifeshire accent made
his language seem-like a foreign tongue. The
singing of that hymn was delightful. Of the
prayer I understood a little, and it was unlike any
that I ever before heard. By the time he came
to the sermon the power of his voice increased,
and I was able to understand most of it. The
object of the discourse was to raise funds to defray part of the expense of building a new church
in the old town, that the seats might be let at low
rates to poor families. He treated it as if he
were recommending a home mission among the
poor. He insisted very much on the need there
was of carrying the Gospel to the poor, and not
waiting for them to come and seek it; on the
thankful and courteous manner in which the poor
always received such messengers; and set forth
the witness in every man's breast as ready to respond to the witness in the Bible, just as the two
parts of a broken cleft correspond to each other.
There were many forcible thoughts in the dis



240    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
course, but these were reiterated so often as to
become tedious. I did not like the general tone
of feeling in which he spoke of " the common
people," and described the " moral picturesque "
of religion in a poor man's house. It was Tory
condescension, not the equality of Christianity.
His efforts to be emphatic were so violent as to be
distressing to witness, and the effect was that of
a picture without any shadow, for he was equally
emphatic in every part. He rolled about in his
pulpit, and threw himself over the side of it, in
a way that was very distasteful to me. The whole
performance of an hour and a quarter long was
tedious to me; but as that large audience was
very quiet and attentive, I suppose it was interesting to them. When I compared this sermon
with the last I heard in New England, I was satisfied that Dr. Channing was a far greater preacher
than Dr. Chalmers.




SALT MINES.           241
CHAPTER       XXVIII.
SALT MINES.
r   RAVELLING is one of the few pleasures
of this world that does not perish in the
using. Southey said, " It is more delightful to
have travelled than to travel," and I think he is
right. The most prosperous journeys have their
anxieties and disappointments, and sight-seeing
is so fatiguing as sometimes to destroy all enjoyment; but in retrospect, all that was unpleasant
is forgotten, and we only live over the most delightful part of our experiences. Among many
agreeable recollections of a journey in the Tyrol,
nothing is more prominent than a visit to the salt
mines of Hallein, a few miles from Saltzburg.
These mines run through a mountain which you
ascend in a very light carriage, holding only two
persons, and drawn by a pair of powerful horses
up the steepest path I ever travelled on wheels.
As we ascended, the view behind us became very
grand, but I hardly dared to look at it lest the
turning of my head round should drag the carriage back or tip the horses over upon us, so
nearly perpendicular was the road. We stopped
11                      P




242   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
suddenly at a small house, and to our surprise
we found ourselves at the entrance to the mines.
Our party consisted of two American ladies, a
young Englishman, my husband and myself.
Our lackey had preceded us, to order the necessary preparations, and when he met us I hardly
knew him, so much was he disguised by the
white linen suit he had put on over his own
clothes. He handed us over to a woman in waiting, who showed us into a little room, where we
saw three suits of white linen jackets and trousers. We supposed that they were for the gentlemen, and asked for the coverings that ladies
wear.  What was our astonishment when she
showed us by intelligible signs that this was to
be our disguise! We protested in vain against
the trousers. The Emperor had given strict orders that no one should enter the mine without
them. The Empress herself had worn them, and
so had the Princesses. This authority was indisputable; so we submitted, but not before one
lady proposed giving up the sight rather than
wear the trousers. This could not now be done.
The carriages that had brought us up the mountain had returned, and our own vehicle had gone
round to the other side to take us up when we
emerged. Mrs. G —    sat down first, and suffered the woman to put her feet into the large,
coarse trousers and tuck into them her travelling




SALT -MINES.           243
dress and all her petticoats. These encumbrances so increased her naturally rotund appearance,
that she looked like the caricature of a little
Dutchman, and Miss A-      and I laughed so
immoderately that we could not begin our toilets.
At last, however, we bethought ourselves that
time was precious, and began the operation. A
long white jacket and a short leather apron, put
on behind, with a cloth cap stuck on the top of
the head, over the bonnet cap, completed our
grotesque appearance. When dressed we could
not stoplaughing at each other and at ourselves.
Miss A-    thought she never could appear before our gentlemen, but I told her there was no
retreating now; she was in for the whole, and
must make the best of it. Knowing that the
men about the house were used to the sight, we
marched boldly out before them, and saw no
change in their countenances. We next met
Mr. Farrar, and envied him his good looks, for
the cap became him, and his white suit only made
him look a little stouter. Not so our young Englishman.  He looked like a fat baker or man
cook, and when they both saw my figure they
laughed themselves speechless. I had preceded
the other ladies, and the gentlemen, having seen
me first, were less affected by their appearance,
and could control their mirth. Miss A-  was
tall, and bore the disguise better than her com



244    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
panions. The cap and jacket were becoming to
her, and the Englishman said that, viewed in
front, she looked like a Circassian beauty, and
viewed sideways, she was like a fat burgomaster.
We soon entered a dim chamber of the mine;
and, scarcely reconciled to our dress, we were put
to a further trial, by being required to sit astride
on a long wooden bench, close to each other, each
holding a lighted candle. This bench,which was
on wheels, was dragged along at a moderate pace
through a long gallery, just large enough to admit.us. Our wheels ran on wood, and on each
side of us were wooden logs, through which the
salt.water is conveyed out of the mountain. We
had not ceased to wonder at our predicament
when we were allowed to dismount from our
wooden horse, and found ourselves at the top of
a shaft, down which we were to slide in the most
curious way.  Two large round poles, placed
about eight inches apart, were carried from the
top to the bottom of the shaft, at an angle of sixty
degrees; on these we were to seat ourselves and
slide down into the dark abyss below,-for our
lights revealed nothing beyond the entrance. Before each lady was a miner seated on these poles,
his legs extended on them; he had hold of a rope
which glided through his gloved hand, by which
to regulate his pace. She put her hands on his
shoulders and sat on the poles as he did.- We




SALT MINES.            245
now saw the use of the aprons put on behind.
That smooth black leather was to slide upon.
Thus adjusted, and very carefully instructed by
our valet, off we set, at a very moderate pace.
I liked the motion, and soon wished to go faster.
The gentlemen went down alone; and any Yankee, accustomed to coasting when a boy, would
soon feel at home on these slides. This first one
was two hundred feet long. It seemed but too
short to me, and I was glad to hear that there
were four more to be descended.    We now
walked a long way through very narrow galleries
cut in the solid rock, stopping occasionally at
some larger opening to see some part of the saltworks, or some memorial of a royal visit, or a
collection of the productions of the mine, in
which red salt in large transparent masses was
the prettiest object, and the remains of Roman
tools were the most curious.
Again mounted on the top of a slide, I felt
very courageous, and told my miner to go fast;
so away we sped into the dark abyss, and were
down in a few seconds. Arrived at the bottom,
I looked up at those on the way, and seeing the
lights at the top, I could appreciate the length
and steepness of the slide, and was surprised at
my own fearless descent. We now walked a long
way before coming to another slide, and when we
had descended that, we found ourselves on the




246    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
margin of an illuminated lake, which looked as
black as ink, and was set round with lights in
fanciful shapes. A wooden raft with seats on it
received us, and we floated over this subterranean
lake with barely room enough between the water
and the earth over our heads for us to sit upright.
This was the most extraordinary part of the whole,
for the roof is composed of earth and salt, and the
salt is obtained by filling up the whole space
with fresh water. This eats away the roof, and
the salt dissolves in the water, whilst the earth
falls to the bottom. They then lead off the salt
water in logs, dig out the earth, and repeat the
process. Now if the roof of this place is so easily crumbled away, what prevents its falling in,
and burying all under it in inextricable ruin?
The effect of the illumination was very beautiful,
and our passage over that dark water seemed like
a dream. On leaving it, we had two more slides.
One of them was five hundred feet long, but we
got on it half way down. In all, we descended
on slides about eight hundred feet perpendicular
height, besides going down some long and steep
ladders. When on these we felt the full benefit
of our male attire. We could not have gone
down in safety in our usual dress. As it was, we
had no difficulty. When all was seen and done
in these vast subterranean wastes, which employ
three hundred men daily within the mountain,




SALT MINES.            247
and two hundred without, we had to make our
exit through a little gallery cut in the solid marble rock, a mile and one third in length. To do
this, we again mounted what they call their wooden horse, and were drawn by miners, at a rapid
rate, with a current of cold air in our faces, and
in perfect silence. We had no space in which to
move a limb, and were charged to keep erect and
quiet, for the least motion would have brought us
in contact with the rough marble wall that was
flitting by us at a great rate. The time of this
strange ride seemed very long. When we had
advanced more than half way we saw daylight
at the farther end, looking in the dark prospective like a star. When at last we reached the
opening, and were ushered back to the green
earth, a fine sunset, with its rose-tints, made a
very striking contrast to the scenes we had left.
We paid well but willingly for our extraordinary expedition, found our bonnets, shawls, and
parasols awaiting us in another dressing-room,
and a woman to help us unrobe. Half an hour's
walk brought us to the village of Hallein, where
our carriage was waiting for us, and a drive of
two hours carried us back to our hotel in Saltzburg.




248    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XXIX.
NOVELLO FAMILY.
N travelling through England at any time for
the last ten years, you may have seen at every
railway station a framed and glazed placard, with
the words NOVELLO'S CHEAP MUSIC.
On inquiring the meaning of this, I was informed that a music publisher had brought within
the reach of moderate fortunes and of professional musicians the compositions of the great
masters, such as Purcell, Beethoven, Mozart,
Handel, and others, hitherto published in such
an expensive manner as prevented their being
known to thousands capable of enjoying them.
Mr. Novello was of Italian origin, but was born
in England and married to a truly English wife.
He was a fine performer on the organ, and had
such a high relish for classical music that he
desired to make it accessible to the many. His
large family of children inherited his musical
taste and talent, and were endowed with fine
voices. Some had other talents also, and all
were highly gifted. His daughter Clara has long
been considered the finest vocalist in England;




NOVELLO FAMILY.          249
and I have heard her say that she was brought
before the public so young, that she thought only
of satisfying her father by her performance, and
paid no regard to her audience. In this way she
escaped all embarrassment and never had a stagefright. When she sang in operas, she was always
attended at the theatre by her mother. After
great success in England she went to Italy, and
was performing in Fermo, a city near the Adriatic and within the boundary line of the Papal
States. At Fermo was one of the estates of the
Count Gigliucci. He was extravagantly fond of
music, and was of course delighted with the performance of the lovely Clara Novello. On making
her acquaintance he found she had been well
educated, and that her vocal powers were her
least merit. - He became enamored of the woman
rather than the singer, and resolved, if possible,
to make her his wife.' His suit was well received,
and the prima donna of the public became his.
She renounced her profession, and entered upon
her duties as the mistress of a large establishment, determined to perform them so well that
no one should think that her former life had unfitted her for them. She found the servants in a
state of insubordination, having taken advantage
of the feeble rule of the Count's aged mother,
and a thorough reform was instituted by the
young wife.
11 *




250    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
She had scarcely reduced everything to order,
when, in 1848, the war of independence began,
under the sanction of the Pope, and Count Gigliucci was chosen to represent Fermo in the first
constitutional parliament in Rome, called the
Consiglio Legislativo. Pio Nono, then a liberal,
called on the patriots to furnish horses for his
cavalry, and the Count was among the first to
give his. When bad advisers fiightened the Pope
out of his liberal views, this act, with other proofs
of the Count's patriotism, caused a sentence of
exile to be passed upon him. He was obliged to
leave suddenly, and his wife followed in their
travelling carriage, drawn by oxen. They took
up their residence in London, and the Countess
resumed her professional career under the name,
so dear to the English public, of Clara Novello.
She became the happy mother of four beautiful
children, two sons and two daughters, and she
arranged her affairs so well that her public duties
never interfered with her private ones. No children are better cared for than hers, and no husband could have a happier home.
When the failing health of Mr. Novello obliged
him to give up his business in London, he chose
Nice for his residence; and it was there that I
had the happiness of making the acquaintance of
his family. He had lost his wife, and there lived
with him then his eldest daughter and her hus



NOVELLO FAMILY.          251
band, Mr. and Mrs. Cowden Clarke, and his eldest
son and youngest daughter, both single and devoted to the happiness of each other. They lived
in a villa about a mile out of the town of Nice,
and not far from them the Count Gigliucci and
his family spent half the year.
My first call at Mr. Novello's convinced me that
I should enjoy the society of his gifted children.
The name of Mrs. Cowden Clarke recalled to
my mind that elaborate work, the Concordance
to Shakespeare, which I now found to be the performance of the lady before me. The walls of the
room in which I was received were covered with
pictures of great merit, the works of a brother who
died at twenty-three years of age, leaving these
numerous paintings to tell of his genius and his
industry. A remarkable chair in this room attracted my attention. It had on its carved back
a small bust of Shakespeare, in ivory, and a silver
plate with an inscription, and was covered with
the richest damask. I found it was an offering
to Mrs. Cowden Clarke from some gentlemen and
ladies in New York, as a token of their appreciation of her Concordance. The day that I called,
she had just received from the Appletons, in New
York, a large volume containing engravings of
sixteen " World-noted Women," for which Mrs.
Cowden Clarke had furnished a biography of each.
She lent the book to me, and I found her letterpress far superior to the pictures.




252    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Among the numerous works of this lady, " The
Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines " appears to
me the most original and a wonderful production
of her imagination. To form a just idea of what
those heroines must have been when young, from
what the great dramatist depicts them in mature
life, seems to me a most difficult task and very
successfully accomplished.
Mr. Cowden Clarke was as true a worshipper
of Shakespeare as -his wife, and had been a popular lecturer in England on the subordinate characters of that author's plays.
The Novello family had a large circle of acquaintance among the inhabitants of Nice, as
well as the winter visitors, and were invited to all
their parties. These civilities they could not
return in kind, owing to the ill health of their
father; but Mr. Cowden Clarke devised a way of
returning them tenfold, by having several morning receptions, in which he read his lectures to
his friends, and a high treat it was. He read
them with dramatic effect, and made his hearers
feel that they had never before appreciated the
subordinate characters of those plays.
Mr. and Mrs. Cowden Clarke have edited several editions of Shakespeare; and being admitted
to their working-room, I saw the pains they took
to ascertain the best reading of doubtful passages. A long table was covered with old and




NOVELLO FAMILY.          253
modern editions of the play in hand, all open at
the sentence they were upon; and after careful
comparison and consideration, they adopted what
seemed to them the genuine language of their
author. The text so chosen is now considered
the best, and I have heard from them that they
are preparing three editions at once, according to
their chosen version.
The Countess Gigliucci was a great favorite
with Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and when
the Princess Royal was to be married, they wished
her to sing at a court concert. It was in the winter, which season she always spent at Nice, and
when some one about the court wrote to ask her
if she would not come to the Royal wedding, she
declined. On hearing that she was not coming,
Prince Albert asked her correspondent to tell her
that he could riot enjoy the concert unless he
heard her voice. This compliment had the force
of a command, and she made the winter journey
to London, was highly appreciated by the Royal
family, and returned well pleased with her excursion.
Since the deliverance of Italy, Count Gigliucci
has taken possession of his estates at Fermo,
and represents that place in the Parliament at
Turin. Fermo has become a part of the present
Kingdom of Italy. The Countess no longer sings
in public, but takes her proper place among the




2504  RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
Italian nobility and gentry, and introduces her
accomplished daughters into society. One of her
sons is in the army, the other in the navy. When
Nice became a part of France, the Novello family,
who could not live under a despotic government,
removed to Genoa, and settled themselves in a
grand old palace, transformed by the judgment
and taste of Mr. Alfred Novello into a luxurious
modern mansion, occupying the finest situation
near the city, and commanding the most extensive and beautiful views of the Mediterranean,
its coasts and promontories.




VOYAGES.              255
CHAPTER XXX.
VOYAGES.
I HOLD in remembrance the peculiar features
of nine voyages that I have made across the
Atlantic, and am surprised to find on reflection
the variety of the circumstances which mark
each. The first one I made before it was believed that steam would ever carry a vessel across
the ocean, and this sailing voyage was forty-eight
days long, owing to gales in the Channel which
obliged us to put into Ryde, in the Isle of Wight,
and also to calms on the ocean.
Among the various incidents of this long voyage was that of a man overboard, and the exertions of a boat's crew who volunteered to go after
him, at the risk of their lives, but failed to reach
him. We also had the robbery of a steerage
passenger's trunk, containing all his property in
silver dollars. A court of inquiry was held, all
the passengers had their baggage searched, but
the missing silver was not found for some days.
At last one of the sailors pulled it up through
the bung of a water-cask, sewed up in a long,
narrow piece of canvas. He had seen a man




256    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
making that covering for it, so the thief was detected, tried, convicted, and put in irons. Great
was the joy of the emigrant, whose sole resource
was that money, with which he intended to buy
a farm. Another incident of this voyage was
the meanness of one of the owners of the ship,
who was a passenger on board of her, and took
upon himself to economize, by rolling up the
cabin carpet, taking down all the ornamental
curtains from the berths, and feeding us on salt
provisions. The gentlemen passengers signed a
"round-robin," remonstrating in strong terms
against his conduct, and insisting on his leaving
all power in the hands of the captain. Hie did
so; the furniture was replaced, and we had fresh
meat every day.
My next voyage was one of only twenty days,
sailing smoothly over a summer sea. One strange
character among my. fellow- passengers remains
indelibly impressed on my memory. She was a
great, stout Englishwoman, the wife of a British
consul in some Spanish port of Central America.
She was dressed in the fashions of twenty years
before, short waists and narrow skirts, which
made her stout figure look as if it were stuffed
into a pillow-case. She told me she was the
mother of two grown-up daughters; that she had
failed to make them like English girls,- they
would imitate the Spanish ladies; and she was




VOYAGES.              257
so disgusted with their ways, that she had left
them and their father to their own devices, and
was on her way to England, where she intended
to live in a pretty cottage in Devonshire. She
also informed me that she had been twice married. Her first husband was an English officer
in the East Indies, much older than herself, a
widower and the father of three little girls, who
had been sent to England to be educated. When
they were old enough to be married, she was sent
by their father to bring them home, with orders
to give each a handsome outfit, such as would
answer for them if they were soon married. She
attended to all this, and they were on their way
to India, when they stopped a few days at the
Cape of Good Hope, and there, she said, " I married them all." "Married without seeing their
father!" I exclaimed. "0, yes; I formed very
good matches for them, and when their father
seemed disappointed at not seeing them, I told
him he could not have married them better than
I had done.'A bird in the hand, you know, is
worth two in the bush.' 
My fourth voyage was the most interesting and
agreeable one that I ever took. We sailed from
New York on thei st of August, 1836, on board
the good ship Orpheus, with the very good Captain
Bursley, in the extra good company of Harriet
Martineau, Lieutenant Wilkes (who has since
Q




258    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
become famous by his capture of the Trent),
Miss S. T-, and Mr. S. G. W. These,
with my husband and myself, made a party of
six, who enjoyed a great deal together, and were
quite independent of the rest of the passengers,
who were disagreeable and even hostile to our
coterie. One of the best state-rooms had been
engaged for Miss Martineau and her friend Miss
S. T -; but on coming on board, she found
her berth occupied by the niece of an old Dutch
lady, our fellow-passenger. After a gentle remonstrance, Miss Martineau gave up her right to
it in the most amiable manner, and took a very
inferior one. The lady who had thus seized on
what she had no right to never occupied the
berth, but chose to sleep on a sofa in the ladies'
cabin, thus enacting the part of "the dog in the
manger."
Our good captain had more to do than any man
I ever saw in command of a ship. He had two
poor, inefficient mates, which obliged him to be
continually attending to every detail of sailing
his vessel. He had a stupid crew of small men;
so he was often obliged to put his own hands to
the halliards; he was without a cook, and the
steward supplied that deficiency, while he took
the burden of the cabin arrangements, and drilled
his two dull waiters, as ladies do their house-servants, looking at the glasses to see that they were




VOYAGES.              259
wiped clean, and attending to the placing of the
dishes on the table. All this was done with perfect equanimity of temper. He was the beau
ideal of a sailor, and the guardian angel of us all.
We found Mr. Wilkes a very agreeable companion, full of information and of good sense. He
was going to Europe to get mathematical instruments for the expedition to the South Pole, so he
and the Professor had long talks upon astronomy.
An elderly Scotch gentleman often joined our
party, and having lived thirty years in London,
among authors and artists, he amused us with anecdotes of Sir Thomas Lawrence, Fuseli, Charles
Lamb, Thomas Hood, and others. But our greatest treat was the conversation of Miss Martineau.
She told us of the part she had taken in the new
Poor Law Bill, the Tax Bill, and the Factory Bill;
that she was consulted by the ministers and the
commissioners, and bound to secrecy by them,
and intrusted with documents the most private
and precious.  She was staying at Lambton
Court, the seat of the Earl of Durham, while she
was writing her Illustrations of the Poor Law
System, and had, at her brother's house in Newcastle, a great trunk of papers, containing the evidence collected for the ministers, which had been
lent to her for materials for her work. Finding
Lord Durham and Lord Howick very desirous of
knowing beforehand what the new bill was to be,




260    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
she told them some of its principal features, and
brought over to Lambton Court some of the evidence for their perusal, which interested them
extremely. In consequence of what Miss Martineau told Lord Durham, he made an experiment
of the new law on his own estate, among the colliers, many months before the bill passed, and it
succeeded perfectly.
She gave us a very amusing account of her intercourse with the commissioners appointed to
examine into the indirect taxes, i. e., excise duties. They wanted her to write upon starch, but
she said she could not illustrate such a prosaic
subject; it was not picturesque enough; but she
was willing to write on wine or glass; and the
abuses in those departments furnished a good
field. As soon as it was known what subjects
she was upon, persons in those trades came to
her with the very information she needed. Her
account of Lord- A    p and the direct taxes
showed how little some of the ministers knew on
the subject, and how important were her notes
and hints. It was the same with the Relief Bill
for Dissenters. Being a Dissenter herself, she
was continually applied to for information on the
subject.
She told all these particulars of her intercourse
with the great statesmen of the day with the
same directness and simplicity that she would if




VOYAGES.               261
speaking of a third person. She was too full of
the matter to be full of herself.
I always felt, after a long talk with her, that
she was a very remarkable woman, and that it
was a great privilege to be in such close communion with her.
When she was consulted about the Factory Bill,
she objected to all legislation about children and
parents, and told the ministers so; but if that
subject must be dealt with, she urged the addition of schools to the new regulations, hoping that
if the bill fell through in other particulars, that
clause might remain and be the foundation of a
national system of education. She was employed
to interest Lord Brougham in the new bill, and
she did so. Commissioners were to be appointed
to inquire into the abuses of factory labor for
children, and Miss Martineau, who had never
asked a favor for herself or any one else, now
proposed to the Ministry to nominate her physician, Dr. Southwood Smith, as one of the three
commissioners, because she thought him particularly well qualified for the business. This was
immediately done, and he was surprised by the
appointment before he knew a word about it.
Very various were the subjects of Miss Martineau's conversation. She had no desire to speak
always of herself. She only did that at the request of her friends. One day she quoted some




262    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
opinion of Kant's, and on some one's expressing
a desire to know more of that writer, she offered
to give us a lecture the next day, at ten o'clock,
on the philosophy of Kant. We were all true
to the appointment, and having seated her comfortably on the broad taffrail of our ship, we
grouped ourselves about her and listened for an
hour to her exposition of the Kantian doctrines,
with great satisfaction, though not, perhaps, with
as much approval of it as she felt.
I have since thought that her admiration of
the philosophy of Kant may have been one of her
first steps on that path which has conducted her
to a disbelief of all revelation and of the immortality of the soul,- too melancholy a subject for
me to dwell on here! I would rather remember
her as she was, when in this country and on that
voyage.
The most marked feature of my fifth voyage
was my having for my fellow-passenger a learned
and accomplished gentleman who belonged to
the lay brotherhood of the order of Jesuits. He
seemed to be learned in all languages, skilled in
all sciences, to have travelled all over the civilized world, to have lived in courts and camps, to
speak like an Englishman, to feel like an Italian,
and yet to be pleased to call himself an American.
I was returning to the United States after all




VOYAGES.              263
absence of four years, with my husband in worse
health than when he went abroad. The first Atlantic steamer, the Great Western, had made a
few trips, but was always so crowded and the accommodations were so cramped and small, that
we preferred a sailing vessel, with two large staterooms and no crowd. My husband was very ill.
The man I had hired to wait on him was unfaithful and unworthy, and I was indebted to strangers
for the aid I needed. No one did so much for me
as this accomplished Jesuit. He spared no pains
to lessen my fatigue and anxiety. He had studied
medicine, and acted the part of doctor and nurse.
I think I should have broken down during that
voyage, had I not had his kind services.
After twelve years of suffering, my husband
was sufficiently comfortable, in 1852, to allow of
my paying a very short visit to my aged mother
in England. A friend dined with us one Sunday,
and said that if I would go, he would accompany
me. On Monday I made up my mind to go, informed my friend of my resolution, and we engaged our berths on board of the steamer that
was to leave on Wednesday. Among the passengers who came on board at Halifax was Mr. Cunard, the gentleman to whom we owe the most
successful line of packets between the Old World
and the New. He proved a very agreeable companion, and would amuse us for hours with histo



264   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
ries of London celebrities, with whom he seemed
to be familiarly acquainted.  He explained to
me the numerous ways in which he provided for
the safety of his steamers, the extra precautions
taken, and the strict discipline maintained on
board of them.
We had a most propitious voyage, spent five
weeks in England, and were back again in Boston
harbor on the very day eight weeks that I had
left.
This experience of steam  navigation determined me never again to trust myself to the
winds.




SWITZERLAND,            265
CHAPTER XXXI.
SWITZERLAND.
AVING visited Switzerland at various times
from youth to old age, and spent the larger
part of two summers there, - one season on the
Lake of Geneva, and another on that of Lucerne,
— I feel intimately acquainted with the country;
too much so to trust myself with writing of it
here. My recollections of ten days of the finest
weather, spent on horseback among the high
Alps, of twenty-two mountain passes made at
different times, of days spent on the Righi, and
weeks at Vevay, must all be put aside. I am not
writing an itinerary. I may, however, note down
a few curious incidents, pleasant meetings, and
coincidences, which lent a romantic interest to
my journeys there.
A visit to Lausanne was made doubly agreeable
by my husband's having a letter of introduction
to M. de la Harpe, the venerable octogenarian,
who was, in his youth, made by the Empress
Catherine, of Russia, tutor to her sons. It was
a very extraordinary thing for a despotic ruler to
place her sons under the care of a republican,
12




266    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
and may, perhaps, account for their being so
much better than their ancestors. The Emperor
Alexander I. did honor to the instructions of his
Swiss tutor, and his brother Nicholas may have
owed some of his good qualities to that excellent
man. Judging from the animated conversation
of M. de la Harpe on the subject of American
slavery, he may be the original cause of the
emancipation of the serfs by the reigning Emperor. We found the old gentleman living in a
pretty house, set in a fine garden, though in the
middle of the town. He received us most graciously, and began to talk at once on the banking
system of the United States and on slavery. He
treated both topics like a thinking man and a
philanthropist. I turned the conversation on his
own country, and congratulated him on the increased liberty of the Swiss. He responded very
feelingly, spoke of the regeneration of his native
land, and of his own efforts to procure trial by
jury. He had fears of innovations being made
too suddenly. "Festina lente" seemed to be his
tnotto.
At Geneva we became interested in the Polish
exiles, who had recently fled thither from fresh
acts of tyranny on the part of their Austrian
rulers. Their accounts of the wrongs and sufferings of their unhappy country were heartrending, and yet we could not help listening to




SWITZERLAND.           267
them, and giving to these patriots the poor consolation of our sympathy. The valet de place
whom we employed, told me that one of these
Polish gentlemen was a man of high rank, and
some years ago he visited Italy in style, with his
carriage and servants, and added, "I was well
paid then as his guide to the sights of Naples,
and now that he comes as a poor exile I wish to
serve him for nothing, if you will dispense with
my attendance on you."
During an excursion from Geneva to Chamouni, I happened to be at the same hotel with a
Russian nobleman, who was making what was to
him a novel experiment, that of travelling without his valet de chambre or any of his suite. He
had performed the short journey from Geneva
without suffering from the want of attendance,
and I saw him eat as good a supper as if he had
been waited upon by his own man-servant; but
the next morning he came down to the dininghall in the greatest rage, sent for the host, and
upbraided him with having treated him worse
than a dog; his own groom was better lodged
than he had been, his bed had not been made, he
had had no sheets, and he was thus ill-used because he was a Russian. The master of the inn
was so astonished that he could not speak, but let
his guest exhaust himself with railing; then he
suddenly left the room, but returned in a few




268    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
minutes, and told the Russian that there were
two beds in the room he had occupied, and one
was handsomely made up with sheets and pillowcases, and begged him to come and see it. The
traveller now perceived his mistake, and came to
the conclusion that he had better be always under
the care of his valet.
In Geneva I saw a collection of enamel paintings by Constantine, as beautiful as those of
Bone, in London, and much more interesting,
being exquisite copies of the finest pictures of
the old masters, as well as some original landscapes.
These are a few of my recollections of the Lake
of Geneva. Those associated with Lake Lucerne
have for me an equal interest. My husband and
I, accompanied by some young friends, were on
our way into Italy, and passing up the lake in' a
steamer, where we saw a country-seat delightfully
situated, at the foot of the Righi, and close to the
border of the lake. I exclaimed, "How much
I should like to spend next summer in that
house!"   A boatman told us it was a Jesuit
College. We thought the Jesuits knew how to
choose a fine situation. After six months spent
in Italy we were again in Lucerne, and learned
that the place we so much admired had long
been deserted by the Jesuits, and was now just
opened as a boarding-house. We immediately




SWITZERLAND.            269
engaged a suite of rooms for our party of four.
We found only one family there before us, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. C —, a grown-up daughter,
and a son only ten years old. We sat opposite to
them at table. They were civil, but not conversable. On retiring to our own apartment I said
to a young lady travelling with me, " That Miss
C — is in love, and her parents do not approve
of her choice."  My young friend laughed at the
idea of my having truly interpreted the looks of
these strangers. I assured her it was so, and
that before three days she would be made the
confidante of Miss C
It happened exactly so, and we became interested in this love affair; but as the lover had no
means of supporting a wife, we did not wonder at
the opposition of the parents. The C —s were
cultivated people, and belonged to a noble family; they were very musical, the father played
on the violoncello, the son on the violin, and the
ladies on the piano. We used to spend our evenings together most agreeably. We were joined
in our summer residence by a family of our acquaintance from Marseilles, Mrs. R —  and her
daughter, who proved a pleasant addition to our
evening reunions. We ladies were all sitting
round a table with our work, when Miss R —
produced her pocket-book to show Miss C — a
profile of the gentleman to whom she was en



270   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
gaged. The name was underneath, and Miss
C — was so startled and agitated that she was
obliged to leave the room, in order to conceal her
emotion. The name she saw was that of her
lover, and she thought the profile was intended as
a likeness of him, and that he was unfaithful to
her and engaged to another. Miss R —  feared
from this sudden flight that Miss C-  might be
ill, so she went after her, and then an explanation took place which made both of them very
happy. They were engaged to two brothers!
After much persuasion, Miss C-  consented to
take Mrs. R —  into her confidence, and it was
well that she did so, for that lady took such an
interest in the affair that she influenced her husband to provide a career for the younger brother,
as he had already done for the elder one; she
reconciled the parents to the match, invited them
all to her house in Marseilles, and there both
brothers were married to the ladies of their choice.
I saw Miss C-   once after she was Mrs. M,
and we talked over together the curious combination of circumstances which had led to her happy
union.
All travellers who have made the pass of the
Spliigen, and come down through the Via Mala,
must have the most vivid recollection of its sublime scenery and its wonderful road. I was once
walking with my husband through the last four




SWITZERLAND.            271
miles of this grand pass, when we came, at a
sudden turn of the road, upon a school of twentyfour boys, running, gambolling, and shouting
among the rocks and precipices. Their light
blouses and rosy faces gave a cheerful air to the
scene, before so solemn; and their small figures
made still more apparent the immense magnitude of the objects around them. These active
little creatures amused themselves in throwing
down from that middle bridge, which looks as if
poised in air, large masses of stone into the river
far below, whilst one of their teachers counted,
on his watch, the number of seconds they took in
falling, and so ascertained the depth. While the
boys were thus engaged, the head-master, Monsieur Topffer, was sketching that well-known
bridge which forms the prominent feature of
every picture of this pass. This pedestrian party
put up at the same inn that we did that night,
and there we learned what a delightful relation
subsisted between Monsieur Topffer and his pupils.
We made the acquaintance of two boys from
New Orleans, whose parents were known to one
of our party, and they told us how much they
enjoyed these pedestrian journeys, and that Monsieur Topffer wrote down every evening the events
of the day, calling upon every boy to mention
anything he wished to have recorded. This diary
he illustrated with spirited sketches, many of
them comic scenes in which the boys figured.




272    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
When we returned to Geneva we found ourselves lodged very near Monsieur T6pffer's house,
and frequently saw his boys. The very beau ideal
of a school was his; both he and his wife were
loved and honored by their pupils, who extolled
them with enthusiasm. They brought us former
diaries of their pedestrian tours, which were
printed with illustrations, and a copy presented
to each boy.
Monsieur T6pffer's own ideas of education
were so wise and good, that he naturally saw
with great clearness the mistakes and follies of
others, and he published a little book of caricature sketches, Histoire de M. Crepin, with pungent explanations, that ridiculed various modern
systems, and were very humorous. Several other
works of the same kind followed, but long after I
knew him he changed his style of authorship,
and made himself famous as an elegant writer offiction. Even the Parisian critics, jealous as they
are of Genevan authors, extolled the purity of
his style and admired his works. His Nouvelles
Genevoises is the most charming collection of
tales that I am acquainted with in the French
language, and Le Presbytere is one of the most
beautiful and pathetic stories in any language.




A TRAVELLING COMPANION.      273
CHAPTER XXXII.
A TRAVELLING COMPANION.
I ONCE had a delightful opportunity of observing the effect produced on persons of all
classes and all ages by the union of beauty and
goodness in a lovely young lady who travelled
with me through France, Switzerland, and Italy.
She was spiritually-minded, and so thoroughly
imbued with the love of her fellow-beings that it
shone through every act, lending a charm to all
she did and said. No one could resist her fascinations, and her presence was a talisman that
unlocked all doors and propitiated all officials.
Often have I seen custom-house officers, addressed
by her, forget their duty, and pass our luggage
without examination. We travelled in Switzerland before it was full of great hotels, and used
to put up at roadside inns, where the host and
his family waited on their guests. These were
always charmed by the beautiful and gracious
stranger; they would sometimes encumber her
with service in order to express their admiration,
and everything in the house was put at our disposal for her sake.
12*                    R




274    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
On arriving in a village, she would occasionally walk out alone, and we were sure to find her
surrounded by the children in the street, whom
she was amusing. The little dirty creatures were
interesting to her. She carried her guitar with
her, and when singing to it, in a little inn parlor,
I have seen the curtainless windows filled with
faces pressed close to the glass outside, looking
at and listening to her, while the family of our
host was crowding the doorway. She had a way
of treating every one as if they were of the utmost
importance to her.
In cities, she was followed and pointed out as
the beautiful American, and at the great theatre
of San Carlo, in Milan, the attention she attracted
was really embarrassing to her. In Florence, Mr.
Powers was so delighted with her, that he begged
to be allowed to make a portrait bust of her, in
which he was very successful. She could not believe that her face deserved such a compliment,
and it was with great difficulty that I persuaded
her to have it done.
In Rome, our party was indebted to her charms
for having the best seats at all public shows, and
access to places closed to other strangers. When
I was bargaining with an Italian Marquis for a
suite of rooms, in Rome, I objected to his price
for them as too high, and named the utmost that
I was willing to give. He could not take it, but




A TRAVELLING COMPANION.       275
just then my young friend appeared, and in her
sweet voice said, " You surely will accept the
terms of Madame." He gazed at her in silent
wonder and admiration, then bowed low and said,
"I can refuse you nothing."
When she was presented to that interesting
old man, Thorwaldsen, he was captivated by her,
and on our second visit, he presented to her a
bronze medal with his own head on it. We
found this great artist living in the same small
house which he took when he first went to Rome,
though his fortunes had greatly changed. His
sympathies were freely given to all poor artists,
and he aided many by letting them hang their
works on his walls, and when strangers came to
see him, he would point out the merits of the
pictures, and sometimes sell them for the needy
artists. One picture which we saw there saved
the life of a young man, reduced to despair by
want of employment. Thorwaldsen had it hung
in his parlor; it was admired, and produced so
many orders that it made the man's fortune.
These acts harmonized perfectly with the countenance of that fine old man, which beamed with
benevolence. He looked very much like a portrait of him which I had seen in Boston, and he
was quite pleased to hear that a picture of him
was in the United States, as he supposed none
had ever gone there. This man, whose fame has




276    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
spread all over the civilized world, who was then
at the head of his profession, the first of living
sculptors, received all his company in a ragged
old dressing-gown, put on over his drawers, and
held round him to hide the absence of pantaloons. He was working on a small has relief
while talking to us.
In his little narrow bedroom were many precious relics. At the head of his bed was a portrait of Raphael, copied from that done by Pietro
Perugino, in the Vatican; it represents him as a
soldier asleep. Civic wreaths, long since faded
and dried, were lying about. A bust of Napoleon
I. showed that his once powerful patron was not
forgotten. Very few of his own works were in
his house; but in his numerous studios and workshops we saw a very large number. He had
one married daughter, to whom he gave a handsome marriage portion, telling her that was all
she would ever have from him, as the rest of his
fortune would be left for the benefit of poor artists.
We saw him once at a ball, given by the Duchess Torlonia, in full dress, which improved his
appearance and made him look very handsome.
He was of medium height, of rather square build,
with a fair complexion, blue eyes, and flowing
white locks. I stood near him when he was
playing the original game of cards that was invented for the amusement of the crazy French




A TRAVELLING COMPANION.       277
King. The cards were very large, and there
were five suits of them, and each suit had five
court cards, a knight being added to the number.
What are spades with us were swords with them,
- spada being the Italian for sword, it was corrupted into spades. Their clubs were representations of Hercules's club, and ten of them required a very large card. Tricks were taken as
in whist, but it appeared to me a much more
complicated game.




278   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
WEARINESS OF ETIQUETTE.
IBELIEVE there are many minds among the
votaries of fashion which are chafed and irritated by the restraints imposed upon them by the
conventional society in which they are born, and
such minds would often emancipate themselves,
were it not that any attempt to do so is frowned
down as ill breeding, or laughed at as eccentricity.
I know the daughter of an English earl who
was so wearied by her training for high life that
she eloped with her father's gardener, conformed
entirely to her new position, and was very happy
in it. She was never noticed by her family.
They seemed to ignore her existence. Her husband was intelligent and industrious; he became
the owner of a valuable nursery-garden near
London, exhibited his plants at the horticultural
shows, and attended the dinners given on such
occasions.  The last I heard of him was at
one of these dinners, when he was challenged to
drink wine by his noble father-in-law, and did




WEARINESS OF ETIQUETTE.        279
it as simply as if it had been with a fellow-gardener.
In visiting the retreat of the celebrated* ladies
of Llangollen, I learned enough about them to
convince me that it was a weariness of the ceremonies and restraints of high life, with a painful
sense of the hollowness of worldly professions,
that drove them to cut their connection with the
society in which they were born, and lead a rural
life among the Welsh mountains. Their disappearance from the fashionable world made a great
sensation at the time, and it was generally supposed that some love affair was at the bottom of
it. It was difficult to make the public renounce
that idea, and the newspapers were for years inventing fictions to favor it. There was nothing
remarkable in the lives they led except the privilege of doing as they pleased. There was no
great scope for benevolence, but they were kind
to their poor neighbors.   They abridged the
trouble which attends a lady's dress by wearing
all the time cloth riding-habits and beaver hats.
When young they rode much on horseback, when
old they indulged in a carriage, and occasionally
dined with a friend, at a distance of twenty miles,
* These ladies were Lady Eleanor Butler and the Hon. Miss
Ponsonby, who suddenly quitted. the world of fashion in London, and retired into Wales, where they spent the rest of their
lives.




280   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
but always returned home at night. They were
never known to sleep out of their own house, and
so it was supposed that they had made a vow to
that effect.
The daughters of George III. were often weary
of court etiquette, and used to get rid of it by
spending their mornings at Frogmore, near Windsor, a small establishment, where they enjoyed
rural pleasures and were never intruded on by
company. There they had their dumb pets and
fed their own chickens, ran out and in unattended, and were entirely free from the trammels
of royalty. I have been there just after they
had left the place, and found their work and
their books lying about, and everything looking
like the home of a private family.
The wife of an officer in the army, who had
apartments in Windsor Castle, said that the princesses would escape into her room sometimes,
and beg for a glass of beer to quench their thirst,
alleging as a reason for their doing so, that if
they asked for it in their own home, they must
wait for a barrel to be tapped, and that would
cause a new office to be created, for serving beer
to them between meals, and that barrel would
become the perquisite of some one of the household, and a fresh barrel would be tapped every
time a glass of beer was called for. So great
was the discomfort of a royal household in those




WEARINESS OF ETIQUETTE.      281
days. The great good sense of Queen Victoria
has altered many of these things for the better.
I will here insert an anecdote of Queen Charlotte, which, though not an instance of weariness
of etiquette, shows that while she was usually a
slave to her own rules of form and ceremony, she
could violate those of politeness and delicacy.
Before there were any railroads in England, the
royal family used to travel to and from Windsor
in carriages and four, and Queen Charlotte would
sometimes honor one of her nobility by a call in
passing, and take lunch at the house. On one
of these calls, she partook of some cake which
she praised very highly.  Sometime after the
lady of the house sent a loaf of the same kind of
cake as a present to the Queen. This she repeated, at the same season, every year, until
she received a message from her Majesty that
she should like a little more sugar in the cake.
" Does she take me for her confectioner?" exclaimed the offended lady. She sent no more
cake to the Queen.
A baron of high degree, in South Wales, chose
a novel way of ridding himself of the form and
etiquette which belonged to his rank. He determined so to ally himself in marriage that none
of his aristocratic friends should be willing to
visit his wife. He married a pretty and amiable
milliner in the country town near his estates,




282    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
had a fine family of children, and led a very
happy life as a farmer. He has been seen, on a
market-day, with the leaves of a fine large turnip
hanging out of his coat-pocket. It was one he
had been exhibiting to his brother-farmers.




THE MAID OF HONOR.         283
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE MAID OF HONOR. - THE ORPHANS. - THE
GENERAL'S LADY.
T   O any one who has read the Life of Madame
d'Arblay, and remembers how irksome it
was to her to fill the place of maid of honor to
the Queen of George III., and how earnestly she
begged her father to take her away from court, it
will seem hardly credible that a young lady in
the same position died broken-hearted because
she was dismissed from her post of honor. But
I know of such an instance, and heard from
friends of the person to whom it relates, the following account.
The lady was young and beautiful, the daughter of an officer of high rank in the army, and as
a favor to her father she was appointed maid of
honor. The Prince of Wales was then young
and handsome, and considered the most elegant
man in England. Everybody at the court desired to be distinguished by him, and some of the
younger ladies hoped to make him in love with
them.
The heroine of my story, after being at court




284    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
for a few weeks, wrote to some friend at home
that she enjoyed herself very much, that the
Prince was very attentive to her, and she hoped
in a few more weeks to have him at her feet.
She then went on to find great fault with the
German ladies in waiting, described them  as
cross and ugly, and showed the same aversion to
them that Madame d'Arblay always felt. She
closed her letter in haste, and an attendant took
it while the ink of the address was still wet. It
became so blotted and blurred that it could not
be read, and was consequently returned to the
palace to be claimed and redirected. It fell into
the hands of one of the German ladies; curiosity
and suspicion made her open it, and there she
found ample matter to ruin the writer.  She
showed the letter to the Queen, who was enraged
at the way in which her son was mentioned, and
sending for the father of the culprit, then on
duty at the palace, she put the letter into his
hands, and told him to take his daughter away
and never let her appear again in her royal presence. The father was much distressed, but considered his daughter's fault inexcusable and the
punishment no more than she deserved. She
went home, sickened and died.    Her jewels
and trinkets were distributed among her young
friends, and the daughter of one of them gave me
a garnet and gold necklace which used to grace




THE ORPHANS.             285
the lovely white throat of the maid of honor, and
which I still possess. The sight of it has recalled
this history.
There came to Milford Haven, while I resided
there, two little girls whose parents had died in
the East Indies while the children were at school
in England. They were brought to Milford because a brother of their father lived there, and
also another distant relative, and a child was left
with each of these relations. The family on
whom these orphans had the least claim, treated
their adopted one as if she had been their own
child, and her life would have been very happy
had her sister been equally well cared for. This
sister was grieved for her being made a mere
drudge in the kitchen of her uncle. He was an
easy, quiet man, who left everything to his wife's
management. She was a worldly-minded woman,
making the best show she could on a small income, and was determined to make the most out
of this unwelcome addition to her family. She
dismissed one of her servants, and made her
niece do as much of her work as was possible for
a child of ten years old. The child was ill fed,
ill clothed, and ill lodged; a more unhappy little
being cannot well be imagined. Her sister was
very rarely allowed to see her, because the contrast in their situations made her more miserable,
or, as the aunt would say, more obstinate and




286    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
stupid. The treatment of this child began to be
talked about in the town, but no one had the
moral courage to remonstrate with the uncle,
and her condition seemed utterly hopeless, when
one of those remarkable changes came to her,
which we are apt to think belong only to fiction,
but which I have frequently seen in my experience of seventy years. A rich aunt of these children, on their mother's side, arrived in Milford,
travelling post in her own carriage, and with a
man-servant and a lady's-maid in attendance.
On the evening of her arrival she put up at the
Nelson Hotel, and inquired of the landlady where
the gentleman lived who had adopted a brother's
orphan child. This led to a disclosure of the
miserable condition of the niece she was in search
of. She could not wait till the morning without
seeing her, but drove at once to the house, which
was a little way out of the town. The master
and mistress were gone to a card-party. The
stranger asked to see a little girl who lived there,
and made her way into the house, resolved to
have an interview with her. The maid-servant
was in great consternation at having to send the
barefooted and ragged Cinderella into the presence of such a fine lady;-but it could not be
avoided, and she was astonished to see the stranger embrace the child and weep over her; still
more was she surprised to hear the lady tell the




THE GENERAL'S LADY.        287
little girl that she would come the next day and
take her away with her, and she should be her
child.
The orphan who had fallen into good hands
was so happy with her adopted parents, that it
was thought best not to remove her; but the one
who had suffered so much was carried off, educated, and brought up in a manner suited to the
condition of her aunt.
A handsome young girl, the daughter of a
tradesman in Dublin, married from ambition an
Irish Knight, old enough to be her father, and
was highly gratified by becoming Lady D.
Nor was her grief very poignant when she lost
her husband, for the title remained to her, with
money enough to make her independent. Her
beauty and her lively conversation soon gave her
many lovers, among whom she chose a general
officer in the English army, who had distinguished himself in the field, and was a man of
real worth. His niece was my intimate friend,
and from her I learned many particulars of the
General's family. He had a handsome establishment at the West End of London, and introduced
his wife to a select circle of friends and acquaintances; but these did not satisfy her ambition.
She aimed at belonging to the highest circle of
fashionables,-a most exclusive set, who ruled
the balls at Almack's rooms, and often refused to




288   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
admit into their coterie ladies of the highest rank.
Lady Cawdor, daughter of the Earl of Carlisle,
said they would not let her belong to them,  she
was not stylish enough. To penetrate this aristocratic circle was the endeavor of Lady D —'s
life; but the widow of an Irish Knight could not
be admitted.  She would have stood a better
chance without her title.
General F-   was a great favorite with George
III. I remember being at a review of ten thousand troops in Hyde Park, and hearing that the
King, on meeting General F —, said to him,
"You feel better to-day than you did this day
forty years." The General's memory was not as
good as the King's. He did not recollect that it
was the anniversary of the battle of Minden, at
which he had held an important command, and
had distinguished himself. His royal master had
not forgotten it.
Lady D-    had three children, a son and two
daughters, whom she educated very carefully,
and brought up under the strictest discipline.
It was well for them that their health was good,
for she never allowed them to complain of any
bodily suffering. A headache was never to be
mentioned, and the word nervous was banished
from her vocabulary. She soon married off her
eldest daughter to her satisfaction; but the second
one, though far more beautiful than her sister,




THE GENERAL'S LADY.        289
was decidedly weak in her intellect; and when
one of the most remarkable statesmen of the
day began to pay her particular attentions, her
mother charged her to speak to him as little as
possible, never to introduce a subject of conversation, but to follow his lead, and always to listen
with profound attention to what he said. This
policy was successful, and the clever cabinet minister married a weak woman without knowing it.
Whenever the London season came round,
Lady D-     gave what was then called a rout,
and turned her house topsy-turvy to make it hold
the greatest possible number of guests. On one
of these occasions she had been exerting herself
to make the most show on the least expenditure,
and was rushing from room to room in the greatest dishabille, when a carriage full of callers drew
up at her door. In a few minutes she was in an
elegant morning neglige, seated in her boudoir,
stringing pearls, and after a few minutes spent
by the guests in the drawing-room, they were
ushered into her presence, and she said, with the
languid air then practised by fine ladies, " You
find me busy; one must be so on these silly occasions; I receive company to-night, and must
have my necklace ready."
This fine lady had a violent temper, and if her
husband had not been remarkably calm and imperturbable, they could not have lived together.
13                      8




290    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
One evening after dinner, as the family were. sitting round the fire chatting, a dispute arose between Lady D-      and the General, in which he
maintained his ground, and though he did it very
calmly, Lady D  - was so exasperated that she
threatened to leave his house forever, pulled the
bell, and ordered her carriage to come to the
door as soon as possible. The footman took her
order, and then the General said, in the gentlest
tone, "When you have done that, bring some
coals to the fire."  This was too much for Lady
DD-, she burst into tears and wept away her
passion. Another victory won by the General.




PARENTAL AUTHORITY.        291
C IHAPTER     XXXV.
PARENTAL AUTHORITY.
KNEW a successful lawyer in Paris who was
resolved to make his only son follow in his
steps, share his practice while he lived, and succeed to it at his death. The son was amiable
and obedient, but ere he left school he began to
show a decided inclination for art. His love of
music was so strong that he learned to play on
the piano with extraordinary facility, and also to
compose, when very young. His father approved
of music as an innocent recreation, but frowned
on his attempts to compose, and rarely allowed
him to go to the opera. This gentle youth wrote
pretty verses; his father also discouraged that.
He modelled statuettes of horses and riders in
clay, but they were all swept away as rubbish.
Nothing was considered by the father as reasonable work, but that which his business required,
and he kept his son strictly to it. A more absolute father I never knew; and while deprecating
his severity, I must give him credit for having
brought up his son a model of purity and uprightness, in the midst of a most corrupt state of




292    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
society. This son, so strictly educated, was a
highly intellectual and spiritual being, full of the
finest feelings, and capable of high enjoyment
from simple pleasures. He was the delight of his
mother and sister. Happily for this sensitive
being, he was not obliged to accept a wife of his
father's choice, which would have been his fate
had not very unusual circumstances led to a
mutual attachment between him and a young
lady who was a desirable match in the opinion
of the father. An early marriage added greatly
to his happiness, but did not lessen the power of
his father over him. Long after he was married
he could not be summoned into the presence of
his father without trembling.  All who know
what the parental relation can be in France will
understand the effect here produced by it on a
very sensitive nature.
I was spending a winter in the south of France
when this young couple brought me a letter of
introduction from a lady in Paris. I began the
acquaintance without the least idea that they
were connected with anybody whom I already
knew. It was therefore a mutual pleasure to
discover that the youth just introduced was the
son of an old friend of my girlhood. He had
often heard his father speak of me, and readily
adopted me as a family friend. His health had
been injured by close application to office busi



PARENTAL AUTHORITY.        293
ness, and his physician had frightened his father
into giving him leave to spend a winter in a mild
climate. It was the first vacation of more than a
few days that he had ever been allowed, and he
luxuriated in its freedom and leisure.
He was a great acquisition to me and my party
that winter. With the simplicity and gayety of a
child, he was gifted with the talents of no ordinary
man. He was the life and spirit of a very genteel
company of fellow-boarders in a hotel, and got up
private theatricals among a set of young people
who needed a world of teaching to make them
act at all. He had such a talent for it that he
seemed born for that vocation, and having found
it difficult to get any drama that his slender
troupe could act, he wrote a very clever comedy
called " The Female Quixote," in which he ridiculed strong-minded women and women's rights
very humorously. Besides drilling and prompting, and managing everything, he played on the
piano delightfully between the acts, and when
the play was over he was the very soul of wit
and pleasantry. His performance on the piano
was marked by taste and feeling rather than by
the noisy execution so much in fashion then.
His wife told me that on some grand occasion in
Paris a musical composition of his was the favorite piece.
Never before had this busy lawyer had the dis



294    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
posal of his own time, nor so much leisure to
indulge his tastes, and he improved it to the
utmost. He now took to modelling with great
zest, and used the studio of an artist who was
perfectly amazed at the work of one who, he
thought, had come to learn of him. This amateur sculptor made a beautiful equestrian statuette, and when I regretted that I could not carry
away a plaster cast of it, he made a very pretty
bas relief of a horse and had it multiplied in a
composition that would bear transportation.  I
took the copy he gave me to Florence, and
showed it to the best sculptors there, one of
whom said, " The man who could do that, should
never do anything else but model." They were
astonished to hear that it was done as an amusement by a successful Paris lawyer. " Tell him,"
said another artist, " that he may be the greatest
lawyer in the land, and his name will never live
after him; but if he excels in sculpture, he will
be immortal."




THE VILLAGE APOTHECARY.      295
CHAPTER       XXXVI.
THE VILLAGE APOTHECARY.
T   HE English apothecary of forty years ago
was often a man ignorant of the first principles of the healing art, who passed from the use
of the mortar and pestle, in his employer's shop, to
the dispensing of drugs to the sick. This class
of men no longer exists; they have given place
to the medical practitioner, who is obliged to
study medicine and pass an examination before
he is allowed to prescribe as a medical man.
It is more than forty years since I passed a
winter in Devonshire with an old friend, and
heard that her most companionable visitor was
the village apothecary. Seeing my surprise, she
told me that he had been in the Guards, and
went to Spain as surgeon to a dragoon regiment,
and was thus thrown into the most polished society. From another admirer of this uncommon
apothecary I gleaned the following history:
In the Peninsular War he received a wound
in his leg, which made him lame for life, and he
took this so to heart that it made him shun society while in Spain. But much worse trials




296    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
awaited him on his return home. His wife, with
whom he had lived very happily for many years,
-his pride being continually gratified by the
attention which her beauty and conversational
powers attracted,-was a complete piece of deception, and having ventured too far on his credulity, was entirely unmasked. She had been
dreadfully extravagant during his absence, and
knew not how to clear herself of debt before his
return; so she laid an ingenious plot for swindling, was detected and prosecuted. The consequences involved her husband still deeper in debt,
and on his return these embarrassments, with his
shame and grief, led him to bury himself in an
obscure village, and by an unremitting attention to
his profession, endeavor to extricate himself with
honor from the pecuniary part of his difficulties.
What induced his detestable wife to inflict the
next trial he never told. After a lingering and
unaccountable illness, he discovered that he was
laboring under the effects of poison, which his
wife was administering, a little at a time, in almost everything he took. As soon as he admitted a suspicion of the fact, he sent for her brother,
who was also a medical man, and they proceeded
to analyze some coffee which his wife had just
presented to him, with the most endearing persuasions to drink it. A quantity of arsenic was
clearly discovered. Just then she entered the




THE VILLAGE APOTHECARY.       297
room. He broke forth in a paroxysm of rage
and anguish, and ordered her never to appear
in his sight again. She retreated to her mother's apartments (an old lady who lived with
them, and was seldom able to leave her room,)
and there the poor criminal had lived for nearly
three years when this account was given to me.
She was as effectually confined by fear and shame
as if she had been under lock and key. She
knew her life was in his hands, but relied entirely
on his humanity. He knew that his was not safe
a moment, but could not bear to drive her from
the shelter of his roof.
It sometimes appeared a mere fable to me that
a murderess lived so near to my friend's house,
and that the refined, romantic man, whose conversation afforded us so much pleasure, had been
driven from society by such undeserved disgrace,
such tragic circumstances. He seemed to dread
everything that could remind him of his former
happiness; the contrast was too strong to be endured. When we remonstrated with him for
neglecting literature, and urged him to embellish
his retirement with some of its best productions,
he replied, "No, I must not, I cannot, I am
afraid of being in love with the world again.
Since I have buried myself here it has been my
study to deaden every feeling, every taste, and to
become, if possible, a mere machine."
13*




298    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       XXXVII.
THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.
W    HEN Napoleon I. threatened to invade
England, and dictate terms of peace
from St. James's Palace, a very large militia force
was added to the standing-army of the country,
and men of all classes cheerfully enrolled themselves in the regiments of their different counties.
The drilling was as thorough as that of the regular army, and the discipline as strict. They lived
in barracks, and their quarters were frequently
changed, to make them more of soldiers and less
of citizens. Many fine ladies left luxurious homes
and lived either in lodgings in some country town
or in the officers' quarters, in the barracks. It
was well for those regiments whose officers had
their wives with them, for where there was no
female society the manners and the morals of the
young men were apt to degenerate.
A gentleman whom I knew when he was in
middle-life, told me of his experiences when he
entered the militia, a stripling of eighteen, as
first-lieutenant. He was the youngest officer in
the regiment, and was both the plaything and the




THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.   299
victim of his comrades. He was sometimes made
to sit on a chair in the -middle of the mess-table,
after dinner, and drink wine with every one present, until, quite tipsy, he was borne off to his bed.
He was much displeased at being so treated, but
did not know how to help himself. One day he
left the mess-table before the dinner was over, and
walked out of the town into a neighboring wood,
on purpose to avoid being made to drink wine.
Much pleased at having thus foiled his tormentors, he walked on briskly until he came upon a
group of young people, which he stopped to admire. Among some hazel bushes was one higher
than common, and in its branches was a little
boy gathering the nuts and throwing them into
the apron of a very pretty girl, who was holding
it up to receive them. A slight but well-rounded
figure was shown to advantage by her attitude,
while her head, thrown back, prevented her luxuriant curls of light hair from hiding her large
blue eyes and fair complexion. A small aqueline nose, well-cut lips, and the whitest of teeth,
completed her charms. She was a study for a
painter. Though no artist, the young lieutenant
was transfixed with admiration of this rustic
beauty. She and her companion were so engrossed by their nut-picking that they did not
observe the stranger, who watched them from a
distance, until they had filled their basket and




800   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
were going off with it. He then joined them
and entered into conversation with the girl. She
answered his questions, and put some to him, in
a simple, artless way, that well became her. He
accompanied her to her home, a neat little cottage surrounded by flowers and vegetables, and
left her at the garden-gate. That one interview
shaped all his future life. He became extravagantly in love with this Ellen Potter, the gardener's granddaughter; he wooed and won her
clandestinely, for she never allowed him to make
the acquaintance of her grandfather, knowing
that he would forbid any young officer to visit
her. Many were the meetings in the wood, and
many were the hours spent in the old man's
house, when he was absent working in other people's gardens.
Lieutenant B -  was an orphan, and heir to a
small fortune. His guardian gave him a handsome allowance, and that with his pay would support two as well as one; so he resolved to marry
tile girl of his heart, but to keep it a secret
until his regiment should be ordered elsewhere.
His brother officers soon discovered that he was
in love, but never supposed that he would marry
a peasant girl; they thought he was only amusing himself, and they were satisfied with cracking
their jokes upon him. Ellen was such a mere
child that she knew not the importance of the




THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.   301
act when she went to church with her lover
and was there married.  She did it to please
him, and that was enough for her. On returning
home she put her wedding-ring in her pocket,
and went about her work as usual.
When news came that the regiment was to
move into a distant county, Ellen's marriage
must be disclosed to her grandfather. He commanded her respect and veneration, and she
dreaded to tell him what she had ventured to do
without consulting him. She has described to
me the scene when she and her husband stood
before the old man and confessed that they were
married; and I wish I could remember verbatim
the words of her grandfather, for they were full
of wisdom and of concern for her future happiness. He was not angry; he was only sorry for
the mistake his beloved Ellen had made.
The young officer had fancied that his alliance
with a peasant girl was an honor conferred on
the gardener, but what he now heard made him
regard the connection very differently. He was
humbled, and promised the old man to do everything in his power to protect his wife in the new
position in which he should place her.
He obtained leave of absence, and did not join
his regiment for several weeks, during which
time his bride was properly equipped as an officer's lady, and learned many things necessary to




302    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
her new position.  She was by nature refined
and polite; her perceptions were quick, and she
possessed tact-that quality most necessary to
social intercourse, but which cannot be taught to
those who have it not.
Her reception by the society to which she now
belonged, was better than she expected; and
though she had to bear some scorn and contumely from the higher-born, she made some real and
true friends, and was much admired by the gentlemen. Her beauty was now a disadvantage, for
it made the women envious and jealous, and the
men gallant and flattering. She was bright and
lively in conversation, clever at keeping up a
joke, and quick at repartee, so her society was
very much courted by the officers of her husband's regiment.  The surgeon, especially, as
having more leisure, was her constant guest, and
used to read to her from the best authors, and
explain to her what her very limited education
made unintelligible. This is what her husband
should have done, but he was idle and careless,
and preferred playing billiards, or cards, with his
comrades.
She spoke to me once of this period of her life
as full of danger. She had become an object of
strong interest and affection to a refined and cultivated man. She was. grateful to him for improving and elevating her intellect, and for a




THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.   303
thousand kind attentions, such as her thoughtless
young husband never paid her. She wished to
regard him as a brother, and treated him as
such; but he put more of the lover into his manner and conversation than she thought proper.
She tried to keep her husband more at home, but
in vain. At last she told him in a joking way
that if he was not more attentive to her, she
should fall in love with the doctor, who was so
devoted to her. Her husband laughed, and said
he would trust her. That expression helped her.
Happily she had read none of those bad novels
which undermine the morals of the present day.
She never heard of the doctrine of affinities; she
had read her Bible, and believed in its strictest
requirements, and made up her mind to deny
herself the society of one who might become too
dear to her. Her dangerous friend was obliged
to be absent from his regiment for several weeks.
There was one particular color which she sometimes wore, and which he disliked so much that
he begged her never to wear it; and in a last
chat with her before his departure, he said, "If I
should see you with that color on when I return,
I shall think that you no longer care anything
about me."
On that speech she acted, -was arrayed in the
obnoxious color on the evening of his return, and
met him in the rooms of a friend, not in her own.




304    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
The intimacy was broken off and never renewed.
He felt it so much that he could not bear to be
near her and not with her, so he exchanged into
another regiment and never saw her more.
A fit of illness made her husband dependent
on her ministrations and brought them again
into close communion with each other. It also
gave a serious turn to his mind, and he rose
up from  that sickness a better and a wiser
man.
Several years after, when peace was made with
France, and the militia was disbanded, he determined to enter the Church, and began his studies
accordingly. It was at this time that I first knew
him and his charming wife. They hired one of
my father's cottages, and became very intimate
in our family. We lived in the diocese of the
Bishop of St. David's; and he refused to ordain
men who, having left a military life, wished to
become clergymen, because he thought they did
it merely as a means of support, without any fitness for the vocation. The Bishop of Sodor and
Man had no such scruples; so Mr. B — went to
the Isle of Man, and having resided there six
months, was ordained. About the same time a
relation died to whom he was heir-at-law, and
he came into possession of a handsome estate in
Devonshire; and for the sake of performing his
part as a clergyman, he became curate to an




THE GARDENER'S GRANDDAUGHTER.   305
absent rector, and did duty in the parish church
near his residence. His wife graced her new position, and her cup of happiness was made full
to the brim by becoming the mother of a fine
boy.
T




306    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER       XXXVIII.
LUNATIC ASYLUMS.
IT has always been the custom for meritorious
deeds of arms to be rewarded by titles and
honors, but it is only in modern times that peaceful civilians have been so rewarded for services
rendered to their fellow-citizens. A signal instance of this occurs to me in the case of a physician, who, for his humane treatment of insane
patients, was knighted by Queen Victoria. I refer to Sir William Ellis. He was at the head of
the great lunatic asylum for paupers at Hanwell,
near London, which I once visited, and saw the
happy effects of his system on eight hundred patients, who were there taken care of without
coercion or severity of any kind.  No straitwaistcoats, no strapping patients into beds or
chairs, no punishments of any kind were used,nothing but the personal influence of Sir William
and Lady Ellis; and their power over all under
their care was extraordinary. Even persons in
the height of an attack of mania yielded to it.
Part of their system was to keep the patients as
fully and as happily employed as was possible,




LUNATIC ASYLUMS.          307
and the whole establishment was like a great
school of industry. The pleasure-grounds and
the gardens were all kept in order by the patients, watched over by competent persons. Sir
William Ellis took great pains to imbue with his
own spirit of kindness and patience all whom
he employed in the care of the insane, and Lady
Ellis was a true helpmate to him.
The extraordinary success of the mild treatment in the Hanwell Asylum soon became
known, and numerous applications for admittance there were made by the rich and great,
who would pay any price to secure such treatment for their insane relations; but their ability
to pay was a complete bar to their reception,none but the very poor could be received at Hanwell.
The number of paying patients thus refused
admittance to the pauper asylum was so great,
that it put it into the heads of some philanthropists to establish an asylum for the rich, on the
same plan as that at Hanwell, but with such accommodations as would be in accordance with
the manner of living to which the wealthy were
accustomed. A handsome country-seat was hired,
within twenty miles of London, a physician chosen to preside over it, with a fixed salary, and an
educated person employed to take care of each
insane patient. Carriages and horses were pro



308    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
vided for their use, and a row-boat, on a piece of
water made to look like a river, was a never-failing source of amusement. A billiard-table too
was a great resource in wet weather. Every
evening a spacious and handsome drawing-room
was well lighted, and the patients, attendants,
the physician and his wife, with any guests who
happened to be there, would assemble in it and
amuse themselves with various games, music,
and conversation, till nine o'clock, when family
prayers were attended in a pretty chapel in the
house, after which all retired for the night.
When I visited this invalid establishment, as it
was called, there were about a dozen patients in
it who were not very insane, and nearly as many
educated attendants. Some of these were wellbred persons, who dined at the same table with
the patients and guests; and a stranger, dining
with them, could riot distinguish the sane from
the insane, so well did the patients behave themselves. One of them, an elderly clergyman of
the Church of England, always said grace before
and after dinner. He was quite a character, and
amused the whole household with his sallies of
wit, his poetic effusions, and his various peculiarities. One fine morning there was an unusual
flocking of patients and guests to the river, where
this reverend gentleman had decorated the boat
with boughs of trees and red bandanna handker



LUNATIC ASYLUMS.         309
chiefs. He called it Cleopatra's barge, and was
handing in an old lady of seventy to give her a
row in it. Some of the visitors had tried to
frighten her from going on the water with an insane man; but she knew no fear, and when he
invited her into Cleopatra's barge, she delighted
him by saying, " If I am Cleopatra, you must be
Mark Antony."   When she had been out long
enough and wished to land, he was not willing to
go back until she reminded him that Mark Antony always did exactly as Cleopatra wished.
That was sufficient to make him return immediately. The same brave old lady was visiting a
patient who was confined to her room, for a few
days, because she could not command herself
sufficiently well to be in the drawing-room. The
attendant who had been sitting with her asked
the visitor if she was willing to remain there
while she went down to her dinner. She assented, and was locked into the room with the
refractory patient. They were seated on each side
of the fireplace, when the invalid said, " Are you
not afraid to be left with me when that poker is
so near me? "  Oh! no," replied the old lady,
" not while I have the tongs and shovel so near
me.". The patient laughed, and was very quiet
and inoffensive.
I have mentioned guests as being in this institution, because the friends of the patients were




310    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
allowed to visit them occasionally, when deemed
proper by the physician of the establishment.
In strong contrast with the instances I have
given of "persons not at all afraid of the insane,
is one which I remember of unreasonable alarm.
Among the companions of my girlhood was one, remarkably pretty and amiable, but always laughed
at for being a great coward. She had many admirers, and was early married to an excellent
youth with a good fortune. She became mistress
of one of those charming country-seats, for which
England is so remarkable, and enjoyed for a short
time the happiness of a true union. Soon, however, her husband showed great uneasiness of
mind, and when driving out with his wife, expressed fears of being waylaid, and avoided passing through woods lest his enemies should start
out from behind trees. This of course frightened
her almost out of her wits, and she became very
miserable. A brother of hers paid her a visit,
was told of her fears and alarms, and assured her
there was no cause for them. He saw at once
that his brother-in-law was insane and needed
care. The next morning, while the young wife
was making her tea on the breakfast-table, and
her husband was standing opposite to her, she saw
two men enter softly behind him, take hold of his
arms and lead him off. She screamed and fell
on the floor in a swoon. Her brother was at hand




LUNATIC ASYLUMS.          311
to soothe and comfort her with the assurance that
her husband was not seized by his enemies, as she
supposed, but. by those who would take the best
care of him.
By degrees he informed her that her husband
was insane and needed restraint; but that in all
probability the malady would be only temporary.
As soon as she was convinced that he was deranged, she was reconciled to the separation, and
thanked her brother for it. Her fear of the insane was so extreme that she never could be persuaded to see her husband again, though he recovered his health, and lived several years a
sane but almost broken-hearted man. He corresponded with his wife, and her letters betrayed
such a dread of meeting him, that to allay her
fears and make her life more tranquil, he went
abroad to live, and promised her never to set foot
in England. Even this great proof of his generous affection could not overcome her unreasonable fears. They never met again.
After being a widow several years, she made
another very happy match, lived without any
alarms for one year, became a mother, and lost
her reason for life.
One of the most interesting varieties in cases
of derangement is that in which the patient ascribes mind and meaning to all inanimate objects.
I remember an interesting case of this kind in




812    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
England. Some friends of mine were assembled
round the door of a charity school, waiting for
the arrival of a committee, who were to distribute the prizes, when a very singular-looking old
man attracted their attention. In those days the
hair and beard were usually cut short; his had
not been shorn for years; his hair lay in rolls
about his shoulders, and his beard, which was
quite white and silvery, concealed all his face below the nose; it appeared to be arranged with
great care, as Rubens used to paint beards. From
the midst of so much white hair his sparkling
eyes and hooked nose looked out like those of an
owl, yet the eyes were full of happiness, and sparkled with joy, not fierceness. His dress seemed to
be new, and consisted of an olive-colored, squarecut coat, a dark blue waistcoat of the oldest fashion, a pair of yellow velveteen breeches, which
were loose enough to form fine draperies, and blue
stockings. He was very upright, and moved with
an abrupt and nimble air. He stood apart and
eyed the company with piercing and inquisitive
glances, when one who knew him thus addressed
him: " Why, Fitz-Hugh, how is it I see you with
a black hat on? " "It is not my choice, you may
be sure." "What is your objection to black?"
" Why you know all colors are but emblems, and
black is an emblem of faith falsified.  0, it is a
shocking color! "  Then what would you wear




LUNATIC ASYLUMS.          313
for mourning?"   An autumn tint, to be sure;
autumn is mourning."   "Are you still favored
to discern spirits as you used to be? " said some
one.    Yes," said he, with a most happy and
satisfied smile; " 0 yes! at this moment I see
a spirit offairness on that young man," pointing
to a well-dressed stranger, who had drawn near
to hear what was saying, but drew back abashed,
as every one involuntarily turned to look for the
spirit of fairness.
Fitz-Hugh used to be seen walking triangles on
the Common, or staring like an eagle at the sun,
waiting for a sign.  He was very religious, and
continually whispered to himself, " Peace, peace,"
in the most emphatic way.
I used to wish that Sir Walter Scott had known
this charming old man, he would have figured so
well in one of his tales.
14




314   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
COURTS OF LAW.
I ALWAYS admired Sir Francis Burdett for
avoiding the ovation prepared for him by the
common people, on his release from the Tower,
where he had been confined for a political offence. He feared that the zeal of his friends and
admirers might lead them into difficulty, and he
had too much regard for them to expose them to
danger on his account; so, with a truly generous
self-denial, he declined all the honors intended for
him, and quietly left the Tower, in a boat, while
the streets were crowded for miles with people
waiting to welcome him. His enemies called this
a cowardly act; but I was among his friends,
and heard it spoken of as a noble instance of his
humanity.
Many years afterwards, I was visiting in Surrey, England, when Sir Francis Burdett was tried
there for breach of prison, and being the guest of
a family who were radical in their politics, and
admirers of Sir Francis, we all went to the courthouse in Guildford to hear the trial. He had
been imprisoned again, for what offence I cannot




COURTS OF LAW,            315
remember, and wishing to use his personal influence, in some cause of human liberty, he had escaped from confinement; but having served his
purpose, he suffered himself to be recaptured,
and returned to prison. He escaped by pretending to change his sofa for a better one, and was
carried out concealed in the bed of the rejected
sofa. For this breach of prison he was now to be
tried at the Guildford assize court. The trial
was scarcely begun before it was very evident
that the bench and the bar were very hostile to
him; but the common people, who thronged the
court-room, considered him their champion, and
listened to the proceedings with very friendly
interest.
Sir Francis refused to employ counsel; he
chose to plead his own cause, and did it with
dignity and composure.   His appearance was
that of a man between forty and fifty years of
age, in delicate health, but full of mental vigor.
His plea was, that he had not broken any law;
he said the very meaning of imprisonment was
keeping a man shut up against his will, and if
any one was guilty it was the jailer, for suffering
him to escape. He stated this so clearly and
forcibly that it made the trial seem to be a ridiculous farce. In the course of his speech, he
took occasion to broach many of his radical opiliions, and to give severe cuts at many old abuses;




316   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
he was often called to order by the judge and the
lawyers, who became highly irritated as he proceeded. Though often interrupted, he managed
to say much that he wished the people to hear,
made a very capital defence of his breach of prison, and was, I believe, let off with a small fine
and costs.
I was once in an English court when a man
was tried for stealing a sheep, and death was at
that time the penalty, if proved guilty. I listened
to the evidence with the painful assurance that it
must convict him; but in spite of it, and of the
judge's charge being dead against the prisoner,
the jury brought in a verdict of " not guilty,"
owing, no doubt, to their horror of taking life for
the theft of a sheep.
My next experience of courts was in Newport,
Rhode Island, where Judge Story took me to his
circuit court, on purpose to hear Daniel Webster
plead against a man who had taken charge of
a large sum of money, in doubloons, to oblige a
friend, and had been robbed of them. The plea
for the defence was very able and seemed unanswerable; but when Mr. Webster spoke, he tore
in rags and tatters the web of reasoning which
had just appeared so strong, and made one feel
ashamed of having supposed the man who lost
the money could be excused for it. The court
rang with the deep sonorous voice of Mr. Web



COURTS OF LAW.           317
ster, when he pronounced the words " unpardonable negligence" again and again, in the most
emphatic tones. He won the case and won the
admiration of all who heard him. Mr. Webster
was then in his prime, and he looked the grand
character that he was. Judge Story, too, was the
beau ideal of a judge. His serene and benevolent countenance gave the promise of as much
mercy as was compatible with justice. I happened to be at Newport when the Circuit Court
was sitting there and saw much of those two
great men, and the impression they made on me
at that time was so strong, that in writing this, I
seem to see them before me and hear again their
voices, though it is more than forty years ago.
I never was again in an American court of law,
until a few years since, when I went from Baltimore to Washington, on purpose to hear Jacob
Barker plead his own cause before the judges of
the Supreme Court, who listened to him with evident pleasure for four consecutive days, and for
three or four hours each day.
His claim on the United States government
dated back to the time of the war with England
in 1812. At that period of great financial distress in the treasury department, Jacob Barker
raised a large loan for the government, and this
has never been fully repaid, though he has been
prosecuting his claim ever since. In stating his




318    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
case before the judges, he gave an interesting and
very spirited review of the whole period, interspersed with lively anecdotes, and delivered with
great energy and fluency.
The first day of his speaking the AttorneyGeneral was present, and after listening for an
hour, he tried to stop Mr. Barker, and begged the
judges not to let him go on at such length. But
they said they would listen to Mr. Barker as long
as he pleased to speak; on which the AttorneyGeneral left the court, and never appeared again
till Mr. Barker had finished. This long plea was
made by an octogenarian, and no young man
could have done it with more energy, acuteness,
or vivacity.




MISS DELIA BACON.          319
CHAPTER       XL.
MISS DELIA BACON.
IHE first lady whom I ever heard deliver a
public lecture was Miss Delia Bacon, who
opened her career in Boston, as teacher of history, by giving a preliminary discourse, describing her method, and urging upon her hearers
the importance of the study.
I had called on her that day for the first time,
and found her very nervous and anxious about
her first appearance in public. She interested
me at once, and I resolved to hear her speak.
Her person was tall and commanding, her finely
shaped head was well set on her shoulders, her
face was handsome and full of expression, and
she moved with grace and dignity.   Tie hall
in which she spoke was so crowded that I could
not get a seat, but she spoke so well that I felt.no fatigue from standing. She was at first a little embarrassed, but soon became so engaged in
recommending the study of history to all present,
that she ceased to think of herself, and then she
became eloquent.
Her course of oral lessons, or lectures, on his



320    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
tory interested her class of ladies so much that
she was induced to repeat them, and I heard
several who attended them speak in the highest
terms of them. She not only spoke, but read
well, and when on the subject of Roman history,
she delighted her audience by giving them with
great effect some of Macaulay's Lays.
I persuaded her to give her lessons in Cambridge, and she had a very appreciative class assembled in the large parlor of the Brattle House.
She spoke without notes, entirely from her own
well-stored memory; and she would so group her
facts as to present to us historical pictures calculated to make a lasting impression. She was so
much admired and liked in Cambridge, that a
lady there invited her to spend the winter with
her as her guest, and I gave her the use of my
parlor for another course of lectures. In these
she brought down her history to the time of the
birth of Christ, and I can never forget how clear
she made it to us that the world was only then
made fit for the advent of Jesus. She ended
with a fine climax that was quite thrilling.
In her Cambridge course she had maps, charts,
models, pictures, and everything she needed to
illustrate her subject. This added much to her
pleasure and ours. All who saw her then must
remember how handsome she was, and how gracefully she used her wand in pointing to the illus



MISS DELIA BACON.         321
trations of her subject. I used to be reminded
by her of Raphael's sibyls, and she often spoke
like an oracle.
She and a few of her class would often stay
after the lesson and take tea with me, and then
she would talk delightfully for the rest of the
evening. It was very inconsiderate in us to allow her to do so, and when her course ended
she was half dead with fatigue. She expressed a
great desire to go to England, and I told her she
could go and pay all her expenses by her historical
lessons. Belonging to a religious sect in which
her family held a distinguished place, she would
be well received by the same denomination in
England, and have the best of assistance in obtaining classes. After talking this up for some
time, I perceived that I was talking in vain. She
had no notion of going to England to teach history; all she wanted to go for was to obtain
proof of the truth of her theory, that Shakespeare did not write the plays attributed to him,
but that Lord Bacon did. This was sufficient to.
prevent my ever again encouraging her going to
England, or talking with her about Shakespeare.
The lady whom she was visiting put her copy of
his works out of sight, and never allowed her to
converse with her on this, her favorite subject.
We considered it dangerous for Miss Bacon
to dwell on this fancy, and thought that, if in14*                     u




322   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
dulged, it might become a monomania, which it
subsequently did.
She went from Cambridge to Northampton,
and spent the summer on Round Hill, as a
boarder at a hydropathic establishment. Separated from all who knew her, and were interested
ili her, she gave herself up to her favorite theme.
She believed that the plays called Shakespeare's
contained a double meaning, and that a whole
system of philosophy was hidden in them, which
the world at that time was not prepared to receive, and therefore Lord Bacon had left it to
posterity thus disguised. At Round Hill she
spent whole days and weeks in her chamber,
took no exercise, and ate scarcely any food, till
she became seriously ill. After much suffering
she recovered and went to New York. To pay
her expenses she was obliged to give a course of
lessons on history; but her heart was not in
them, - she was meditating a flight to England.
Her old friends and her relations would not of
course furnish her with the means of doing what
they highly disapproved; but some new acquaintances in New York believed in her theory, and
were but too happy to aid her in making known
her grand discovery. A handsome wardrobe and
ample means were freely bestowed upon her, and
kind friends attended her to the vessel which was
to carry her to England on her Quixotic expedi



MISS DELIA BACON.        323
tion. Her mind was so devoted to the genius of
Lord Bacon that her first pilgrimage was to St.
Albans, where he had lived when in retirement,
and where she supposed that he had written all
those plays attributed to Shakespeare. She lived
there a year, and then came to London, all alone
and unknown, to seek a home there. She thus
describes her search after lodgings: "On a dark
December day, about one o'clock, I came into
this metropolis, intending, with the aid of Providence, to select, between that and nightfall, a
residence in it. I had copied from the Times
several advertisements of lodging-houses, but
none of them suited me. The cab-driver, perceiving what I was in search of, began to make
suggestions of his own, and finding that he was
a man equal to the emergency, and knowing that
his acquaintance with the subject was larger than
mine, I put the business into his hands. I told
him to stop at the first good house which he
thought would suit me, and he brought me to
this door, where I have been ever since. Any
one who thinks this is not equal to Elijah and
his raven, and Daniel in the lions' den, does not
know what it is for a lady, and a stranger, to live
for a year in London, without any money to
speak of, maintaining all the time the position of
a lady, and a distinguished lady too; and above
all, such a one cannot be acquainted with the




324   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
nature of cab-drivers and lodging-house keepers
in general. The one with whom I lodge has behaved to me like an absolute gentleman. No one
could have shown more courtesy and delicacy.
For six months at a time he has never sent me
a bill; before this I had always paid him weekly, and I believe that is customary. When after
waiting six months I sent him ten pounds, and
he knew that it was all I had, he wrote a note to
me, which I preserve as a curiosity, to say that
he would entirely prefer that I should keep it.
I have lived upon this man's confidence in me
for a year, and this comparatively pleasant and
comfortable home is one that I owe to the judgment and taste of a cab-driver.... Your ten
pounds was brought me two or three hours after
your letter came, and I sent it immediately to
Mr. Walker, and now I am entirely relieved of
that most painful feeling of the impropriety of
depending upon him in this way, which it has required all my faith and philosophy to endure, because he can now very well wait for the rest, and
perceive that the postponement is not an indefinite one. Your letter has warmed my heart, and
that was what had suffered most. I would have
frozen into a Niobe before I would have asked
any help for myself, and would sell gingerbread
and apples at the corner of a street for the rest
of my days before I could stoop, for myself, to




MISS DELIA BACON.         325
such humiliations as I have borne in behalf of
my work, which was the world's work, and I
knew that I had a right to demand aid for it."
In her first interview with Carlyle she told him
of her great discovery in -regard to Shakespeare's
plays, so called, and he appeared to be interested
in her, if not in her hypothesis; but he treated
that with respect, and advised her to put her
thoughts on paper. She accordingly accepted an
arrangement, kindly made for her by Mr. R. W.
Emerson with the editors of a Boston magazine,
worked very hard, and soon sent off eighty pages.
A part of this was published, and she received
eighteen pounds for it. Had this contract been
carried out, the money made by it would have
supported her comfortably in London, but there
arose some misunderstanding between her and
the editors, owing, perhaps, to her want of method
and ignorance of business. She considered herself very ill-used, and would have nothing more
to do with them. Her theory should be set forth
in a book.
She now found an excellent and powerful
friend in Mr. Hawthorne. He kindly undertook
to make an agreement with a' publisher, and
promised her that her book should be printed if
she would write it. Deprived of her expected
emolument from writing articles for a periodical,
she was much distressed for want of funds, and




326   RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
suffered many privations during the time that
she was writing her book.  She lived on the
poorest food, and was often without the means
of having a fire in her chamber. She told me
that she wrote a great' part of her large octavo
volume sitting up in bed, in order to keep warm.
It was when her work was about half done
that she wrote to me the letter from which I have
made the foregoing extract. Her life of privation and seclusion was very injurious to both body
and mind. How great that seclusion was, is seen
in the following passage from another of her letters to me.
" I am glad to know that you are still alive and
on this side of that wide sea which parts me from
so many that were once so near, for I have lived
here much like a departed spirit, looking back on
the joys and sorrows of a world in which I have
no longer any place. I have been more than a
year in this house, and have had but three visitors
in all that time, and paid but one visit myself, and
that was to Carlyle, after he had taken the trouble
to come all the way from Chelsea to invite me,
and though he has since written to invite me, I
have not been able to accept his kindness. I
have had calls from Mr. Grote and Mr. Monckton Milnes; and Mr. Buchanan came to see me,
though I had not delivered my letter to him."
All the fine spirits who knew Miss Bacon found




MISS DELIA BACON.         327
in her what pleased and interested them, and had
not that one engrossing idea possessed her, she
might have had a brilliant career among the literary society of London.
One dark winter evening, after writing all day
in her bed, she rose, threw on some clothes, and
walked out to take the air. Her lodgings were
at the West End of London, near to Sussex Gardens, and not far from where my mother lived.
She needed my address, and suddenly resolved to
go to the house of Mrs. R —  for it. She sent in
her request, and while standing in the doorway
she had a glimpse of the interior.  It looked
warm, cheerful, and inviting, and she had a strong
desire to see my mother; so she readily accepted
an invitation to walk in, and found the old lady
with her daughter and a friend just sitting down
to tea.  Happily my sister remembered that a
Miss Bacon had been favorably mentioned in my
letters from Cambridge, so she had no hesitation
in asking her to take tea with them. The stranger's dress was such an extraordinary dishabille
that nothing but her ladylike manners and conversation could have convinced the family that she
was the person whom she pretended to be. She
told me how much ashamed she was of her appearance that evening; she had intended going
only to the door, but could not resist the inclination to enter and sit down at that cheerful teatable, which looked so like mine in Cambridge.




328    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
The next summer I was living in London. The
death of a dear friend had just occurred in my
house; the relatives were collected there, and all
were feeling very sad, when I was told by my servant that a lady wished to see me. I sent word
that there was death in the house and I could see
no one that night. The servant returned, saying,' She will not go away, ma'am, and she will not
give her name."
On hearing this I went to the door, and there
stood Delia Bacon, pale and sad. I took her in
my arms and pressed her to my bosom; she
gasped for breath and could not speak. We went
into a vacant room and sat down together. She
was faint, but recovered on drinking a glass of
port wine, and then she told me that her book
was finished and in the hands of Mr. Hawthorne,
and now she was ready to go to Stratford-uponAvon. There she expected to verify her hypothesis, by opening the tomb of Shakespeare, where
she felt sure of finding papers that would disclose
the real authorship of the plays. I tried in vain
to dissuade her from this insane project; she was
resolved, and only wished for my aid in winding
up her affairs in London and setting her off for
Stratford. This aid I gave with many a sad misgiving as to the result. She looked so ill when I
took leave of her in the railroad carriage that I
blamed myself for not having accompanied her




MISS DELIA BACON.         329
to Stratford, and was only put at ease by a very
cheerful letter from her, received a few days after
her departure.
On arriving at Stratford she was so exhausted
that she could only creep up to bed at the inn,
and when she inquired about lodgings it was
doubtful to herself, and all who saw her, whether
she would live to need any. One person expressed this to her, but her brave heart and strong
will carried her out the next day in search of a
home, and here as in London she fell into good
hands.  She entered a very pretty cottage, the
door of:which stood open, found no one in it, but
sat down and waited for some one to appear.
Presently the owner entered, an elderly lady, living on her income, with only one servant. She
had never taken any lodger, but she would not
send Miss Bacon away, because she was a stranger and ill; and she remembered, she said, that
Abraham had entertained angels unawares. So
she made her lie down on her sofa, and covered
her up, and went off to prepare some dinner for
her. Miss Bacon says, in her letter to me: " There
I was, at the same hour when I left you, the day
before, looking out upon the trees that skirt the
Avon, and that church and spire only a few yards
from me, but so weak that I did not expect ever
to go there. I know that I have been very near
death. If anything can restore me it will be the
motherly treatment I have here,"




330    RECOLLECTIONS OF SEVENTY YEARS.
A few weeks after this, I received a very cheerful letter from her on the subject of the publisher of her book. She writes, " I want you to
help me; help me bear this new kink of burden which I am so little used to. The editor
of Fraser's Magazine, Parker, the very best publisher in England, is going to publish my book
immediately, in such haste that they cannot stay
to send me the proofs. That was the piece of
news which came with your letter. How I
wished it had been yourself instead, that you
might share it with me on the instant. It was a
relief to me to be assured that your generous
heart was so near to be gladdened with it. Patience has had its perfect work. For the sake of
those who have loved and trusted me, for the
sake of those who have borne my burdens with
me, how I rejoice!
"Mr. Bennock writes to me for the title, and
says this has been suggested,'The Shakespeare
Problem  Solved by Delia Bacon'; but I am
afraid that, with the name, sounds too boastful.
I have thought of suggesting' The Shakespeare
Problem, by Delia Bacon,' leaving the reader to
infer the rest. I have also thought of calling it'The Baconian Philosophy in Prose and Verse,
by Delia Bacon'; or the'Fables of the Baconian Philosophy.'  But the publishers are the
best judges of such things."




MISS DELIA BACON.          331
That the book should be published under such
agreeable auspices was the crowning blessing of
her arduous labors, and it is a comfort to her
friends that this gleam of sunshine illumined her
path before the clouds settled down more darkly
than ever on her fine mind.
She remained for several months in Stratford,
but I believe she never attempted to open the
tomb of Shakespeare; and when she left that
place, she returned home to die in the bosom of
her family. Thus ends the history of a highly
gifted and noble-minded woman.
THE END.
Cambridge Stereotyped and Printed by-Welch, Bigelow, & Co.