"His Giantship is gone, somewhat crest-fallen;
". . . there, Girl, that will do for To-day."
Meantime, his greater Poem had come out, for which he had got an immediate Payment of five Pounds, with a conditional Expectance of fifteen Pounds more on the three following Editions, should the Public ever call for 'em. And truly, when one considers how much Meat and Drink One may buy for Twenty Pounds, and how capricious is the Taste of the critikal World, 'tis no mean Venture of a Bookseller on a Manuscript of which he knows the actual value as little as a Salvage of the Gold-dust he parts with for a Handful of old Nails. At all events, the Sale of the Work gave Father no Reason to suppose he had made an ill Bargain; but, indeed, he gave himself very little Concern about it; and was quite satisfied when, now and then, Mr. Marvell and Mr. Skinner, or some other old Crony, having waded through it, looked in on him to talk it over. Money, indeed, a little more of it, would have been often acceptable. Mother now began to pinch us pretty short, and lament the unsaleable Quality of Father's Productions; also to call us a Set of lazy Drones, and wonder what would come of us some future Day; insomuch that Father, turning the Matter sedately in his Mind, did seriously conclude 'twould be well for us to go forth for a While, to learn some Method of Self-support. And this was accelerated by an unhappy Collision 'twixt my Mother and me, which, in a hasty Moment, sent me, with swelling Heart, to take Counsel of Mrs. Lefroy, my sometime Playfellow Rosamond Woodcock, then on the Point of embarking for Ireland; who volunteered to take me with her, and be at my Charges; so I took leave of Father with a bursting Heart, not troubling him with an Inkling of my Ill-usage, which has been a Comfort to me ever since, though he went to the Grave believing I had only sought my own Well-doing.
We never met again. Had I foreseen it, I could not have left him. The next Stroke was to get away Mary and Anne, and take back Betty Fisher. Then the nuncupative Will was hatched up; for I never will believe it authentick—no, never; and Sir Leoline Jenkins, that upright and able Judge, set it aside, albeit Betty Fisher would swear through thick and thin.
Sure, Things must have come to a pretty Pass, when Father was brought to take his Meals in the Kitchen! a Thing he had never been accustomed to in his Life, save at Chalfont, by Reason of the Parlour being so small. And the Words, both as to Sense and Choice, which Betty put into his Mouth, betrayed the Counterfeit, by favouring over-much of the Scullion. "God have Mercy, Betty! I see thou wilt perform according to thy Promise, in providing me such Dishes as I think fit whilst I live; and when I die, thou knowest I have left thee all!" Phansy Father talking like that! Were I not so provoked, I could laugh. And he to sell his Children's Birthright for a Mess of Pottage, who, instead of loving savoury Meat, like blind Isaac, was, in fact, the most temperate of Men! who cared not what he ate, so 'twas sweet and clean; who might have said with godly Mr. Ball of Whitmore, that he had two Dishes of Meat to his Sabbath-dinner,—a Dish of hot Milk, and a Dish of cold Milk; and that was enough and enough. Whose Drink was from the Well;—often have I drawn it for him at _Chalfont!—_and who called Bread-and-butter a lordly Dish;—often have I cut him thick Slices, and brought him Cresses from the Spring! Well placed he his own Principle and Practice in the Chorus's Mouth, where they say,
"Oh, Madness! to think Use of strongest Wines
And strongest Drinks our chief Support of Health!"
So that Story carries its Confutation with it: Ned Phillips says so, too. As to what passed, that July Forenoon, between him and Uncle Kit, before the latter left Town in the Ipswich Coach, and with Betty Fisher fidgetting in and out of the Chamber all the Time . . . he may, or may not have called us his unkind Children; for we can never tell what Reasons had been given him to make him think us so. That must stand over. How many human Misapprehensions must do the same! Enough that one Eye sees all, that one Spirit knows all . . . even all our Misdoings; or else, how could we bear to tell Him even the least of them? But it requires great Faith in the greatly wronged, to obtain that Calm of Mind, all Passion spent, which some have arrived at. When we can stand firm on that Pinnacle, Satan falls prone. He sets us on that dizzy Height, as he did our Master; saying, in his taunting Fashion,—
"There stand, if thou canst stand; to stand upright
Will ask thee Skill;"
but the Moment he sees we can, down he goes himself!—falls whence he stood to see his Victor fall! This is what Man has done, and Man may do,—and Woman too; the Strength, for asking, being promised and given.
End of Project Gutenberg's Mary Powell & Deborah's Diary, by Anne Manning