CHAPTER LVI.
The lover felt and acknowledged the great good sense and honourable conduct of his mistress; and thus terminated a connection commenced under no very auspicious omens, protracted till mutual esteem was succeeded by the most perfect indifference, and which ever, during its continuance, was interrupted by jars and bickerings, the unavoidable consequence of inequality in temper, habits, and age; and presenting at no period, any favourable prospect of an harmonious union.
The catastrophe of this young lady’s history was very melancholy. With every talent and accomplishment necessary to adorn the most elevated station, with every pretension of loveliness, grace, and manners, with a fortune which, by prudent management, might have secured an honourable, though not a splendid independence, her final exit was not very much unlike that so beautifully recorded by Pope, of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.
She first of all impoverished herself, by the profuse liberality of her presents to those to whom she was partial. She was subsequently induced to lend, with the truest motives of generosity and friendship on her part, a portion of her capital, on very insufficient security. This she accordingly lost. There was an enthusiasm in her attachments bordering on infatuation, and very indiscriminating in the choice of its objects. Talent was her great idol, before which she bowed, but she often neglected to examine and investigate the private character and conduct by which it was accompanied. The consequence was, that she was perpetually imposed upon, and did not discover her error till it was too late.
Her finances became finally so exceedingly narrowed and embarrassed, that penury began to stare her in the face. Her friends, in some degree to ward off this evil, suggested the expediency of her publishing two volumes of her poems. This was accordingly done, under the inspection of a most judicious, able, and compassionate friend, whose attentions cheered and soothed the last sorrowful moments of her life. To him they were inscribed, with a very appropriate address. The reader may not be averse to see a specimen. Ex uno disce omnia.
THE BOY AND THE BUTTERFLY.
Proud of its little day, enjoying
The lavish sweets kind Nature yields,
In harmless sports each hour employing,
Ranging the gardens, woods, and fields.
A lovely Butterfly extending
Its grateful wing to Sol’s warm beams,
No dreaded danger saw impending,
But basked secure in peaceful dreams.
A wandering Urchin viewed this treasure,
Of gaudy colours fine and gay,
Thoughtless consulting but his pleasure,
He chased it through the live-long day.
At last the young but sly dissembler
Appeared to follow other flies,
Then turning seized the little trembler,
Who crushed beneath his fingers dies!
Surprized he sees the hasty ruin
His reckless cruelty had wrought,
The victim which so long pursuing
Scarce raised a wish, or claimed a thought,
Now bid the tear of genuine sorrow
O’er his repentant bosom flow,
Yet he’ll forget it ere the morrow,
And deal to others equal woe.
Thus the vain man, with subtle feigning,
Pursues, o’ertakes, poor woman’s heart,
But soon his hapless prize disdaining,
She dies the victim of his art.
Her compositions were all of the same character and tendency—tender, elegant, and tinged with the most romantic sensibility. Whether their publication answered the proposed purpose to any effect, may reasonably be questioned; for in her last illness, if she did not actually want the necessaries incident to her situation, she had but a very scanty supply of them.
After her death, when the kind friend above alluded to, undertook the office of executor, and the superintendence of her funeral, barely sufficient was got together, to have the last offices performed with due decency.
She carried the preposterous enthusiasm of her misguided partialities to the very last. All the valuable trinkets, rings, and jewels, which she had inherited, had long since been given away, or otherwise disposed of, one diamond ring excepted, which had for time immemorial remained in her family. In drawing up her will, she had bequeathed this jewel to a popular theatrical performer. Her executor having timely knowledge of this, insisted upon its erasure, and positively declined having any thing to do with her affairs, unless she bequeathed this ring to her sister. She was prevailed upon, though reluctantly, to do so.
She died very prematurely, but she had been as negligent of her health, as of her worldly affairs, and indulged in habits, than which nothing could be more pernicious in themselves, or more injurious to her constitution. Being occasionally subject to great depression of spirits, and habitually a very bad sleeper, she indulged in the use of æther and laudanum, to an excess that can hardly be credited; by which, and by various other acts of similar imprudence, she doubtless much accelerated her end.
Among her intimate friends were many of the most elevated rank, and she was personally acquainted with all the females of her time, who were in the least celebrated for their intellectual accomplishments. She was the correspondent of Anna Seward, much acquainted with Mrs. Piozzi, Helen Maria Williams, and others who have already been mentioned in this narrative.
Be it permitted us to lament, yes, deeply to lament, that no friendly pilot among those upon whom she had the claims of kindred and of blood, stepped forward, in the progress of her little life, to steer her frail vessel through the storms and perils of a treacherous world. She was left, at a very early age, an orphan adventurer, to find her way, as best she could, o’er unknown seas and regions, and many a pelting did she get from divers pitiless storms.
Poor Ella! one tear at least is paid to thy memory, by an individual who knew thy worth, admired thy talents, and loved thee with the truest warmth of friendship.
Being so poetical herself, and so addicted to the society of those who had the same disposition, volumes might perhaps be made of the poems addressed to her. The following is selected, as particularly descriptive of her character.
“Wit, beauty, goodness, sentiment refin’d,
The brightest genius, with the purest mind;
Quick nerves, to sympathy too nicely strung,
And sportive innocence for ever young;
Gay beaming smiles, and each still varying grace,
Accordant harmony of voice and face;
Sweet chat, that might despairing anguish soothe;
A soul all energy, a heart all truth;—
Give it but wings, ’tis angel, goddess, Elf;
Or add caprice and—Ella—’tis thyself.”
Idem semper erit quoniam semper fuit idem.