The case of entanglement, on the side of Ella, alluded to in the former chapter, was this:—Her limited fortune, notwithstanding her high and proud connections, made it expedient for herself and sister, to live with an elderly lady, who had also other female boarders. An officer, who had been wounded in the service of his country in a distant climate, with a constitution apparently broken, made application to be received into the family, of which our heroine was a member. The circumstance excited great alarm, and occasioned much serious debate. At length, after many sage discussions, and beds of justice, it was resolved, nemine contradicente, that a wounded officer, somewhat advanced in life, and with an impaired constitution, was not an object to awaken the scruples, or alarm the fears of the sisterhood. Things, however, turned out quite contrary. “Love (as it is said) laughs at locksmiths;” and such a dart was shot from Ella’s bright eyes through the thorax of the Major, where, by the way, there was a ball lodged already, which no medical skill could extract, that he surrendered at discretion. It is a little whimsical, that this catastrophe was maliciously predicted to the Lady by our Sexagenarian; but the prophecy was at first received with something like indignation. “Could it be supposed that a worn-out soldier, of no family, fortune, or pretensions, could excite any other emotion than pity?” Pity, however, it is well known, is next a kin to love, and so it proved in this instance. The final issue may be narrated in a few words. Application was made to Ella’s great and noble friends, for their consent to this ill-suited union, to which the Horatian adage might strictly be applied; most certainly might they be termed “impares formas atque animos,” and the jugum, had it been worn, would have been truly aheneum.
These mighty people, however, whose generosity never extended beyond giving their relative an occasional dinner, wrapped themselves in their magnificence, and in stately terms, forbade the banns. What was to be done in this dilemma? After due deliberation, it was determined that they should consider themselves as solemnly pledged, and wait for a favourable change of circumstances. Month, however, succeeded month, and year followed year, and no such change took place. At length, the gentleman’s health appeared to be growing worse and worse, and it was deemed indispensably necessary for his convalescence, that he should remove to Bath. Upon this occasion, the lady behaved with a characteristic nobleness of mind. She thought her friend and lover would return no more, and that the circumstances in which he was placed, with respect to herself, might induce him to make a will in her favour. As soon, therefore, as he had arrived at the place of his destination, she wrote to inform him, that, after duly considering the little probability there existed of their ever being happily united, she thought it best for both, that the engagement should be dissolved, and the connection at an end. Under this impression, therefore, she was determined positively to decline any favourable intention he might retain towards her, if induced to make his will. She added the strongest recommendation in favour of his nephew, whom he had materially assisted in life, and who had also experienced many solid benefits from her friendship.
Negotii sibi qui volet vim parare, navem et mulierem,
Hæc duo sibi comparato.
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.