LETTER XXV - EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, April 25.
NO, my dear Sir, no: the work of seventeen years remains such as it was, ever unworthy your time and your labour; but not more so now-at least I hope not,-than before that fortnight which has so much alarmed you.
And yet I must confess, that I am not half so happy here at present
as I was
ere I went to town: but the change is in the place, not in me. Captain
Mirvan and Madame Duval have ruined Howard Grove. The harmony that
reigned here is disturbed, our schemes are broken, our way of life is
altered, and our comfort is destroyed. But do not suppose London to
be the source of these evils; for, had our excursion been any where
else, so disagreeable an addition to our household must have caused
the same change at our return.
I was sure you would be displeased with Sir Clement Willoughby, and
therefore I am by no means surprised at what you say of him; but
for Lord Orville-I must own I had greatly feared that my weak and
imperfect account would not have procured him the good opinion which
he so well deserves, and which I am delighted to find you seem to
have of him. O, Sir, could I have done justice to the merit of which
I believe him posessed;-could I have painted him to you such as he
appeared to me;-then, indeed, you would have had some idea of the
claim which he has to your approbation!
After the last letter which I wrote in town, nothing more passed
previous to
our journey hither, except a very violent quarrel between Captain
Mirvan and Madame Duval. As the Captain intended to travel on
horseback, he had settled that we four females should make use of
his coach. Madame Duval did not come to Queen Ann Street till the
carriage had waited some time at the door; and then, attended by
Monsieur Du Bois, she made her appearance.
The Captain, impatient to be gone, would not suffer them to enter
the house,
but insisted that we should immediately get into the coach. We obeyed;
but were no sooner seated, than Madame Duval said, “Come, Monsieur
Du Bois, these girls can make very good room for you; sit closer,
children.”
Mrs. Mirvan looked quite confounded; and M. Du Bois, after making some
apologies about crowding us, actually got into the coach, on the side
with Miss Mirvan and me. But no sooner was he seated, than the Captain,
who had observed this transaction very quietly, walked up to the
coach door, saying, “What, neither with your leave, nor by your leave?”
M. Du Bois seemed rather shocked, and began to make abundance of
excuses: but
the Captain neither understood nor regarded him, and, very roughly,
said, “Look’ee, Monseer, this here may be a French fashion for aught I
know,-but give and take is fair in all nations; and so now, d’ye see,
I’ll make bold to show you an English one.”
And then, seizing his wrist, he made him jump out of the coach.
M. Du Bois instantly put his hand upon his sword, and threatened to
resent this indignity. The Captain, holding up his stick, bid him draw
at his peril. Mrs. Mirvan, greatly alarmed, got out of the coach, and,
standing between them, intreated her husband to re-enter the house.
“None of your clack!” cried he angrily; “what the D-l, do you
suppose I
can’t manage a Frenchman?”
Meantime, Madame Duval called out to M. Du Bois, “Eh, laissez-le,
mon ami, ne
le corrigez pas; c’est une villaine bete qui n’en vaut pas la peine.”
“Monsieur le Capitaine,” cried M. Du Bois, “voulez-vous bien ne demander pardon?”
“O ho, you demand pardon, do you?” said the Captain,” I thought as
much; I
thought you’d come to;-so you have lost your relish for an English
salutation, have you?” strutting up to him with looks of defiance.
A crowd was now gathering, and Mrs. Mirvan again besought her husband
to go
into the house.
“Why, what a plague is the woman afraid of?-Did you ever know
a Frenchman
that could not take an affront?-I warrant Monseer knows what he is
about;-don’t you Monseer?”
M. Du Bois, not understanding him, only said, “plait-il, Monsieur?”
“No, nor dish me neither,” answered the Captain; “but, be that as
it may,
what signifies our parleying here? If you’ve any thing to propose,
speak at once; if not, why let us go on our journey without more ado.”
“Parbleu, je n’entends rien, moi!” cried M. Du Bois, shrugging up his
shoulders, and looking very dismal.
Mrs. Mirvan then advanced to him, and said in French, that she was
sure the
Captain had not any intention to affront him, and begged he would
desist from a dispute which could only be productive of mutual
misunderstanding, as neither of them knew the language of the other.
This sensible remonstrance had the desired effect; and M. Du Bois,
making a
bow to every one except the Captain, very wisely gave up the point,
and took leave.
We then hoped to proceed quietly on our journey; but the turbulent
Captain
would not yet permit us. He approached Madame Duval with an exulting
air, and said, “Why, how’s this, Madame? what, has your champion
deserted you? why, I thought you told me, that you old gentlewomen
had it all your own way among them French sparks?”
“As to that, Sir,” answered she, “it’s not of no consequence what you
thought; for a person who can behave in such a low way, may think
what he pleases for me, for I sha’n’t mind.”
“Why then, Mistress, since you must needs make so free,” cried he,
“please to
tell me the reason you took the liberty for to ask any of your
followers into my coach without my leave? Answer me to that.”
“Why, then, pray, Sir,” returned she, “tell me the reaon why you
took the
liberty to treat the gentleman in such an unpolite way, as to take
and pull him neck and heels out? I’m sure he hadn’t done nothing to
affront you, nor nobody else; and I don’t know what great hurt he
would have done you, by just sitting still in the coach; he would
not have eat it.”
“What, do you think, then, that my horses have nothing to do but
to carry
about your snivelling Frenchmen? If you do, Madam, I must make bold
to tell you, you are out, for I’ll see ‘em hang’d first.”
“More brute you, then! For they’ve never carried nobody half so good.”
“Why, look’ee, Madam, if you must needs provoke me, I’ll tell you
a piece of
my mind; you must know, I can see as far into a millstone as another
man; and so, if you thought for to fob me off with another one of your
smirking French puppies for a son-in-law, why you’ll find yourself
in a hobble, that’s all.”
“Sir, you’re a-but I won’t say what;-but I protest I hadn’t no such a thought, no more hadn’t Monsieur Du Bois.”
“My dear,” said Mrs. Mirvan, “we shall be very late.”
“Well, well,” answered he, “get away then; off with you as fast as
you can,
it’s high time. As to Molly, she’s fine lady enough in all conscience;
I want none of your French chaps to make her worse.”
And so saying he mounted his horse and we drove off. And I could
not but
think, with regret, of the different feelings we experienced upon
leaving London, to what had belonged to our entering it.
During the journey Madame Duval was so very violent against the
Captain, that
she obliged Mrs. Mirvan to tell her, that, when in her presence,
she must beg her to choose some other subject of discourse.
We had a most affectionate reception from Lady Howard, whose
kindness and
hospitality cannot fail of making every body happy who is disposed
so to be.
Adieu, my dearest Sir. I hope, though I have hitherto neglected
to mention
it, that you have always remembered me to whoever has made any inquiry
concerning me.
LETTER XXVI - EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, April 27.
O MY dear Sir, I now write in the greatest uneasiness! Madame Duval has made a proposal which terrifies me to death, and which was as unexpected as it is shocking.
She had been employed for some hours this afternoon in reading
letters from
London: and, just about tea-time, she sent for me into her room, and
said, with a look of great satisfaction, “Come here, child, I’ve got
some very good news to tell you: something that will surprise you,
I’ll give you my word, for you ha’n’t no notion of it.”
I begged her to explain herself; and then, in terms which I cannot repeat, she said she had been considering what a shame it was to see me such a poor country, shame-faced thing, when I ought to be a fine lady; and that she had long, and upon several occasions, blushed for me, though she must own the fault was none of mine; for nothing better could be expected from a girl who had been so immured. However, she assured me she had, at length, hit upon a plan, which would make quite another creature of me.
I waited, without much impatience, to hear what this preface led to;
but I
was soon awakened to more lively sensations, when she aquainted me,
that her intention was to prove my birthright, and to claim, by law,
the inheritance of my real family!
It would be impossible for me to express my extreme consternation
when she
thus unfolded her scheme. My surprise and terror were equally great;
I could say nothing: I heard her with a silence which I had not the
power to break.
She then expatiated very warmly upon the advantages I should reap from
her plan; talked in a high style of my future grandeur; assured me
how heartily I should despise almost every body and every thing I had
hitherto seen; predicted my marrying into some family of the first
rank in the kingdom; and, finally, said I should spend a few months in
Paris, where my education and manners might receive their last polish.
She enlarged also upon the delight she should have, in common
with myself,
from mortifying the pride of certain people, and showing them that
she was not to be slighted with impunity.
In the midst of this discourse, I was relieved by a summons to
tea. Madame
Duval was in great spirits; but my emotion was too painful for
concealment, and every body enquired into the cause. I would fain
have waived the subject, but Madame Duval was determined to make it
public. She told tham that she had it in her head to make something
of me, and that they should soon call me by another name than that
of Anville; and yet that she was not going to have the child married
neither.
I could not endure to hear her proceed, and was going to leave
the room;
which, when Lady Howard perceived, she begged Madame Duval would
defer her intelligence to some other opportunity; but she was so
eager to communicate her scheme, that she could bear no delay;
and therefore they suffered me to go without opposition. Indeed,
whenever my situation or affairs are mentioned by Madame Duval,
she speaks of them with such bluntness and severity, that I cannot
be enjoined a task more cruel than to hear her.
I was afterwards accquainted with some particulars of the conversation
by
Miss Mirvan; who told me that Madame Duval informed them of her plan
wih the utmost complacency, and seemed to think herself very fortunate
in having suggested it; but, soon after, she accidentally betrayed,
that she had been instigated to the scheme by her relations the
Branghtons, whose letters, which she received today, first mentioned
the proposal. She declared that she would have nothing to do with
any roundabout ways, but go openly and instantly to law, in order to
prove my birth, real name, and title to the estate of my ancestors.
How impertinent and officious in these Branghtons, to interfere thus in my concerns! You can hardly imagine what a disturbance this plan has made in the family. The Captain, without enquiring into any particulars of the affair, has peremptorily declared himself against it, merely because it has been proposed by Madame Duval; and they have battled the point together with great violence. Mrs. Mirvan says, she will not even think, till she hears your opinion. But Lady Howard, to my great surprise, openly avows her appprobation of Madame Duval’s intention; however, she will write her reasons and sentiments upon the subject to you herself.
As to Miss Mirvan, she is my second self, and neither hopes nor
fears but as
I do. And as to me,-I know not what to say, nor even what to wish; I
have often thought my fate peculiarly cruel, to have but one parent,
and from that one to be banished for ever;-while, on the other side,
I have but too well known and felt the propriety of the separation. And
yet, you may much better imagine, than I can express, the internal
anguish which sometimes oppresses my heart, when I reflect upon the
strange indifference that must occasion a father never to make the
least enquiry after the health, the welfare, or even the life of
his child!
O Sir, to me the loss is nothing!-greatly, sweetly, and most
benevolently
have you guarded me from feeling it; but for him, I grieve indeed!-I
must be divested, not merely of all filial piety, but of all humanity,
could I ever think upon this subject, and not be wounded to the soul.
Again I must repeat, I know not what to wish; think for me, therefore,
my dearest Sir, and suffer my doubting mind, that knows not which way
to direct its hopes, to be guided by your wisdom and unerring counsel.
EVELINA.