CHAP .
I. Mary , the heroine of this fiction , was the daughter of Edward , who married Eliza , a gentle , fashionable girl , with a kind of indolence in her temper , which might be termed negative good-nature : her virtues , indeed , were all of that stamp .
She carefully attended to the _ shews _ of things , and her opinions , I should have said prejudices , were such as the generality approved of .
She was educated with the expectation of a large fortune , of course became a mere machine : the homage of her attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements , and she never imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil : notions of her own consequence , by these means , were interwoven in her mind , and the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments , without having any taste for them .
When she was first introduced into the polite circle , she danced with an officer , whom she faintly wished to be united to ; but her father soon after recommending another in a more distinguished rank of life , she readily submitted to his will , and promised to love , honour , and obey , ( a vicious fool , ) as in duty bound .
While they resided in London , they lived in the usual fashionable style , and seldom saw each other ; nor were they much more sociable when they wooed rural felicity for more than half the year , in a delightful country , where Nature , with lavish hand , had scattered beauties around ; for the master , with brute , unconscious gaze , passed them by unobserved , and sought amusement in country sports .
He hunted in the morning , and after eating an immoderate dinner , generally fell asleep : this seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load ; he would then visit some of his pretty tenants ; and when he compared their ruddy glow of health with his wife 's countenance , which even rouge could not enliven , it is not necessary to say which a _ gourmand _ would give the preference to .
Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more agreeable to his fancy than her sickly , die-away languor .
Her voice was but the shadow of a sound , and she had , to complete her delicacy , so relaxed her nerves , that she became a mere nothing .
Many such noughts are there in the female world !
yet she had a good opinion of her own merit , -- truly , she said long prayers , -- and sometimes read her Week 's Preparation : she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly called _ hell _ , the regions below ; but whether her 's was a mounting spirit , I can not pretend to determine ; or what sort of a planet would have been proper for her , when she left her _ material _ part in this world , let metaphysicians settle ; I have nothing to say to her unclothed spirit .
As she was sometimes obliged to be alone , or only with her French waiting-maid , she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications , and while she was dressing her hair , and she could turn her eyes from the glass , she ran over those most delightful substitutes for bodily dissipation , novels .
I say bodily , or the animal soul , for a rational one can find no employment in polite circles .
The glare of lights , the studied inelegancies of dress , and the compliments offered up at the shrine of false beauty , are all equally addressed to the senses .
When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way , she tried another .
The Platonic Marriage , Eliza Warwick , and some other interesting tales were perused with eagerness .
Nothing could be more natural than the developement of the passions , nor more striking than the views of the human heart .
What delicate struggles !
and uncommonly pretty turns of thought !
The picture that was found on a bramble-bush , the new sensitive-plant , or tree , which caught the swain by the upper-garment , and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait .
-- Fatal image !
-- It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart , and sent a new kind of a knight-errant into the world .
But even this was nothing to the catastrophe , and the circumstance on which it hung , the hornet settling on the sleeping lover 's face .
What a _ heart-rending _ accident !
She planted , in imitation of those susceptible souls , a rose bush ; but there was not a lover to weep in concert with her , when she watered it with her tears .
-- Alas !
Alas !
If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy , and give me credit for genius , I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful cheeks , to the discomposure of rouge , & c. & c. Nay , I would make it so interesting , that the fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to settle the curls himself , and not interrupt her .
She had besides another resource , two most beautiful dogs , who shared her bed , and reclined on cushions near her all the day .
These she watched with the most assiduous care , and bestowed on them the warmest caresses .
This fondness for animals was not that kind of _ attendrissement _ which makes a person take pleasure in providing for the subsistence and comfort of a living creature ; but it proceeded from vanity , it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French expressions of ecstatic fondness , in accents that had never been attuned by tenderness .
She was chaste , according to the vulgar acceptation of the word , that is , she did not make any actual _ faux pas _ ; she feared the world , and was indolent ; but then , to make amends for this seeming self-denial , she read all the sentimental novels , dwelt on the love-scenes , and , had she thought while she read , her mind would have been contaminated ; as she accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors , and would walk with them by the clear light of the moon .
She wondered her husband did not stay at home .
She was jealous -- why did he not love her , sit by her side , squeeze her hand , and look unutterable things ?
Gentle reader , I will tell thee ; they neither of them felt what they could not utter .
I will not pretend to say that they always annexed an idea to a word ; but they had none of those feelings which are not easily analyzed .
CHAP .
II .
In due time she brought forth a son , a feeble babe ; and the following year a daughter .
After the mother 's throes she felt very few sentiments of maternal tenderness : the children were given to nurses , and she played with her dogs .
Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her recovering strength ; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a consumption , to which her constitution tended .
Her children all died in their infancy , except the two first , and she began to grow fond of the son , as he was remarkably handsome .
For years she divided her time between the sofa , and the card-table .
She thought not of death , though on the borders of the grave ; nor did any of the duties of her station occur to her as necessary .
Her children were left in the nursery ; and when Mary , the little blushing girl , appeared , she would send the awkward thing away .
To own the truth , she was awkward enough , in a house without any play-mates ; for her brother had been sent to school , and she scarcely knew how to employ herself ; she would ramble about the garden , admire the flowers , and play with the dogs .
An old house-keeper told her stories , read to her , and , at last , taught her to read .
Her mother talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit ; and , in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French .
As she had learned to read , she perused with avidity every book that came in her way .
Neglected in every respect , and left to the operations of her own mind , she considered every thing that came under her inspection , and learned to think .
She had heard of a separate state , and that angels sometimes visited this earth .
She would sit in a thick wood in the park , and talk to them ; make little songs addressed to them , and sing them to tunes of her own composing ; and her native wood notes wild were sweet and touching .
Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements , and was glad that his wife 's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself about them .
She had besides another reason , she did not wish to have a fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter ; she still expected to recover , and figure away in the gay world .
Her husband was very tyrannical and passionate ; indeed so very easily irritated when inebriated , that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten her mother to death ; her sickness called forth all Mary 's tenderness , and exercised her compassion so continually , that it became more than a match for self-love , and was the governing propensity of her heart through life .
She was violent in her temper ; but she saw her father 's faults , and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her own .
-- She did more ; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon , when she was conscious of having erred ; and her contrition was so exceedingly painful , that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and impatience , to save herself this cruel remorse .
Sublime ideas filled her young mind -- always connected with devotional sentiments ; extemporary effusions of gratitude , and rhapsodies of praise would burst often from her , when she listened to the birds , or pursued the deer .
She would gaze on the moon , and ramble through the gloomy path , observing the various shapes the clouds assumed , and listen to the sea that was not far distant .
The wandering spirits , which she imagined inhabited every part of nature , were her constant friends and confidants .
She began to consider the Great First Cause , formed just notions of his attributes , and , in particular , dwelt on his wisdom and goodness .
Could she have loved her father or mother , had they returned her affection , she would not so soon , perhaps , have sought out a new world .
Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love ; on earth it was not to be found : her mother had often disappointed her , and the apparent partiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite pain -- produced a kind of habitual melancholy , led her into a fondness for reading tales of woe , and made her almost realize the fictitious distress .