CHAPTER XXIV.
Mention has before been made of the Abbé’s two sisters. The character of one of them was so very singular, and her fortunes so bordering on the romantic, that they ought not entirely to be passed over.
The sisters at first kept a school for young ladies, and as they were clever and accomplished, and promised something of refinement, beyond the ordinary level of provincial schools, they were for a time very successful. But it is more than probable that this success was interrupted and finally destroyed by the wayward and very eccentric character and conduct of the younger. She was of the Wolstoncraft school, a great stickler for the dignity of the sex, and the rights of women. She was an authoress, a poetess, and afterwards an actress. She exhibited the remarkable phænomenon of representing on the stage, the principal character in a tragedy written by herself, which nevertheless was damned. She printed a volume of poems by subscription, and her conduct with respect to the printer, brings to mind a story of a simple clergyman, which may as well be told first.
A poor vicar, in a very remote province, had, on some popular occasion, preached a sermon so exceedingly acceptable to his parishioners, that they entreated him to print it, which, after due and solemn deliberation, he promised to do. This was the most remarkable incident of his life, and filled his mind with a thousand fancies. The conclusion, however, of all his consultations with himself was, that he should obtain both fame and money, and that a journey to the metropolis, to direct and superintend the great concern, was indispensable. After taking a formal leave of his friends and neighbours, he proceeded on his journey. On his arrival in town, by great good fortune he was recommended to the worthy and excellent Mr. Bowyer, to whom he triumphantly related the object of his journey. The printer agreed to his proposals, and required to know how many copies he would choose to have struck off. “Why, Sir,” returned the clergyman, “I have calculated that there are in the kingdom so many thousand parishes, and that each parish will at least take one, and others more; so that I think we may venture to print about thirty-five or thirty-six thousand copies.”
The printer bowed, the matter was settled, and the Reverend author departed in high spirits to his home. With much difficulty and great self-denial, a period of about two months was suffered to pass, when his golden visions so tormented his imagination, that he could endure it no longer, and accordingly wrote to Mr. Bowyer, desiring him to send the debtor and creditor account, most liberally permitting the remittances to be forwarded at Mr. B.’s convenience. Judge of the astonishment, tribulation, and anguish, excited by the receipt of the following account, or something very much resembling it.
| The Rev. ⸺ | |||
| £. | s. | d. | |
| Cr. | |||
| By the sale of 17 copies of sermon | 1 | 5 | 6 |
| Dr. | |||
| By printing and paper, 35,000 copies of said sermon | 785 | 5 | 6 |
| By balance due to Mr. Bowyer | £784 | 0 | 0 |
They who know the character of this most amiable and excellent printer, will not be at all surprized to hear, that in a day or two, a letter to the following purport was forwarded to the clergyman.
Rev. Sir,
I beg pardon for innocently amusing myself at your expence, but you need not give yourself uneasiness. I knew better than you could do, the extent of the sale of single sermons, and accordingly printed but 50 copies, to the expence of which you are heartily welcome, in return for the liberty I have taken with you, &c. &c.
Very similar to the conduct of this clergyman, was that of the young lady of whom we have been speaking. She sent for the printer, and giving him the manuscript, desired him to strike off a thousand copies. The manuscript contained enough for a tolerably thick volume of royal octavo. The printer himself represents the succeeding dialogue to have taken place.
“Have you made any estimate of the expence?”
“No; but I must have a thousand copies.”
“How many subscribers have you?”
“About two hundred; but I know, indeed I have no doubt, of an extensive sale. I must have a thousand copies.”
“Perhaps, Madam, you may not be aware, that of your two hundred subscribers, all will not send for their copies, and of those who do, some will not send the money; that the expence is immediate, as no long credit can be given; so that, after the first advertisements, the poems of an unknown author are generally considered as waste paper.”
“It does not signify, Sir, I must and will have a thousand copies.”
The result may be easily anticipated; a thousand copies were actually printed, but after a lapse of several years, no less than seven hundred and fifty still groaned upon the shelves of the printer’s warehouse.
This was a most extraordinary young lady. She certainly possessed considerable talents, but she was vain, conceited, and pragmatical; and, as was before observed, a worthy disciple of the Wolstoncraftian school. Having failed as a teacher, as an authoress, and, above all, as an actress, she offered herself and was accepted as a governess in the family of a lady, who had formerly been brought up by her sister and herself. The lady was of an old and considerable family, and heiress to a large property; her husband was the elder son of a baronet, of no great pretensions on the score of intellect, but a well meaning, good sort of a man. Till the governess came among them, the family had lived tranquilly together, with no other or greater interruptions than are found to occur in all families. No sooner had the poetess entered upon her office, than she took it into her head, that delicacy was offended by the familiarity and unconcealed affection, with which her quondam pupil outwardly treated her husband. She endeavoured to persuade the wife that this was highly indecorous, and unhappily she but too well succeeded. Her familiarity was turned into cold civility, her affection changed into a reserved demeanour, and the whole character of her behaviour assumed a new form.
The husband was not insensible of the alteration, which at first excited his astonishment, and afterwards his indignation. On discovering the cause, he very naturally insisted that the governess should be dismissed. The foolish wife, however, resisted this, and so implicated her own case with that of her counsellor, that she declared one would not go without the other. The husband was firm, and the result was, that the indiscreet wife sacrificed three young children, and the society of her husband, with whom she had hitherto lived happily, to share with her female friend the disgrace, contempt, and privations, which accompanied their departure.
The husband instituted different suits in Doctors Commons, for the establishment of his just rights, in every one of which, the decisions, as might be expected, were in his favour. The fugitives at length found it expedient to retire from Great Britain to a remote island in its dependencies, where they lived, and may perhaps yet live, victims of self-reproach, of the grossest folly, and most unjustifiable perverseness. The name of this sage female counsellor, ought perhaps to be published by way of punishment. It was, however, printed in the proceedings of the Consistorial Court, where her conduct was most severely animadverted upon, by the Judge who presided. It is withheld in this place, merely from respect to the memory of her deceased brother.
Si lucri quid detur rem divinam deseram.