Mrs. ⸺.
The Sexagenarian has taken occasion to speak of female personages equally respectable in society, equally estimable for their talents, and perhaps equally amiable in private life, but still as opposite as possible in character, temper, and manners. Let the reader oppose in imagination, Mrs. Cooper to Mrs. Yates, Mrs. Hannah More to Mrs. Wolstoncroft, Mrs. Hayley to Mrs. Trimmer, and the only conclusion to be drawn is, that from the mixed characters of life, we must extract as we can, what is useful, convenient, and grateful.
The subject of Mrs. ⸺, therefore, who was known to the Sexagenarian from childhood, is entered upon without feeling the necessity of apology, (if any thing shall find its way from our notes not altogether acceptable) to the Lady herself, if she may yet survive to read these Memoirs, or to any of the numerous friends whom she has necessarily and meritoriously acquired.
From a child she gave indications of talents above the ordinary level, but her earliest propensity was for music, in which she soon became a proficient; and in the provincial town where she resided, frequently entertained and enlivened numerous parties with her concerts. From music to poetry, the transition is natural and easy; she wrote, when very young, many elegant and beautiful things, which perhaps have not been excelled by any of the productions of her maturer years.
Her natural connections, her education, and the principles in which she had been brought up, gave her an unavoidable predilection in favour of those, who, on the breaking out of the French Revolution, vainly imagined that a glorious opportunity was presenting itself, for the melioration of the condition of mankind.
She was, however, steady and consistent, and did not, like her friends, Mrs. Wolstonecroft and Helen Maria Williams, expose and disgrace herself. On one occasion, indeed, her enthusiasm got the better both of her prudence, and the natural delicacy of her sex. She attended the trial of her admired—what shall we call him? Patriot!—Well then, Patriot, if you please, Horne Tooke, for High Treason. When the verdict of “Not guilty” was pronounced, she scrambled over seats and benches as she could, and hastening to where he stood, kissed him in the public court.
When young, she was of a very lively and cheerful temper, of which character her earliest compositions exhibited the amplest testimony. It may be conjectured, that about this period, her sensibility and tenderness must have received some very acute wounds, for almost all her subsequent publications were of the most melancholy cast and tendency. Misery, deep and dreadful misery, seemed alone to be her favourite subject, to call forth all her talents, and to occupy the whole of her imagination.
Her union with a celebrated artist, could not, as one should think, be entirely congenial to her natural habits and propensities. They who knew her from her childhood, held up their hands in astonishment; but Venus delights in these vagaries. At his decease, it seemed for a time as if other and higher destinies awaited her; but she was still a widow when these Memorandums were committed to paper.
When it is added, by way of conclusion to this sketch, that she was a most affectionate and dutiful daughter, warm and animated in her attachments, lively and agreeable in conversation, steady and consistent in her principles, if she could have known who it was that bore this testimony in her favour, she would perhaps have been more than satisfied.
This also may tend to soften the resentment to which she may be inclined to give way, when it is still further added, that the flattering attentions she received from her childhood, so far spoiled her, that whatever she does, or says, or writes, is somewhat tinged with vanity and self-conceit, and that perhaps no more perfect picture was ever exhibited in society, of a Precieuse.
Ite procul, sacer est locus, ite profani.