Blue-Stocking Hall, (Vol. 2 of 3)

by William Pitt Scargill

For myself you know, that I have no possible feeling upon such a subject. Were I called Blue, because I was seen with the Stanleys, or reading any thing but a novel, it would not signify. My walk in life has long been determined, and I have outlived (if indeed I ever felt like the Mimosa upon such occasions) all sensibility to those nick-names, which are so generously bestowed upon single women. I am a veteran, and can stand fire. I can endure to be called by any appellation, the true meaning of which, is that I have preferred remaining unmarried to being encumbered by the cares of wedded life; and if heaven have granted any measure of understanding, have chosen to employ, rather than let it lie fallow. But this is my individual view of the matter. Have I a right to place my nieces in society which they would certainly love and imitate? am I to incur for them the obloquy that waits on superior knowledge and acquirements in their sex? impeding perhaps, also, the chances of that settlement in future life which, though I have never desired for myself, and am in reality very indifferent about for them, I am still bound to consider as the ordinance of nature, besides being the point to which the artificial laws of the world are universally directed. Many cares will necessarily spring up in my way as I proceed, but at present, how to steer a middle course between Scylla and Charybdis is my chief difficulty. With the inanity of fashion, and its opposite vulgarity on the one hand; a religion which deals too much in external observances, and the reproach of female learning on the other, is there any honest method by which, without sacrificing integrity of principle, I may skim the cream of each class, and save my children from the evils attendant upon all the classes that I have described? Be my Cumean Sybil; look into the page of destiny for me; say what is before me, and how I shall act.

The priest in the proverb, "christens his own child first;" you see that I have adopted the same prudent maxim, and given you nothing as yet, but my own story; but for this you need no apology my dearest Caroline. Innumerable interruptions break my purposes, and deprive me of any command over my time just now. By and by I shall be able to write less selfishly I trust, and repay your kindness by more agreeable matter than you will find in a dish of egotism which I have served up for your this day's fare. Before I release you, however, I must tell you that I was not a little surprised yesterday, by the appearance of an Irish acquaintance, Mr. Bentley, whom I have seen frequently at Lisfarne, and uncle to George, who is, I believe, an intimate still at your house, and Mr. Otway's. When I was at Glenalta, the young man was, I suppose, at the University, for I did not see him, but I heard the girls and Frederick name him familiarly.

In the midst of giving directions to my work-men, a travelling carriage drove up to the hall-door, and I was really delighted to see Mr. Bentley, who is a highly respectable man, but who appeared in a new light of interest to my eyes, from all the associations which his presence awakened. I endeavoured to shew how glad I felt to see him; and though I could not prevail with him to make a longer stay, he indulged me by remaining, to pass a few hours, and walk round our pretty grounds. In the course of conversation, I asked for his nephew, and was answered, that he was at Lisfarne, where he would remain till Mr. Bentley, senior, returns to the county of Kerry. I spoke of the advantage which any young person must derive from such society as that of Mr. Otway, upon whose character I expatiated with my usual warmth.

"Yes," replied Mr. Bentley, "Otway is a noble fellow, though one of your oddities; and poor George absolutely worships him, but nevertheless; I am not very sure that his staying at Lisfarne is for either his happiness or advantage."

"Pray, how so?" answered I, "with perfect unconsciousness."

"My dear madam," said the good man, "your friends at Glenalta are too near I should think, for my poor boy's peace. I do not say that it is so. I only mean that such things flow naturally from near neighbourhood, which often brings people into scrapes. I have known many a heart lost through the insensible influence of contiguity. Opportunity is the deadliest foe of the one sex, Importunity of the other; and between them both, many a match is brought about, to which an unwilling consent is wrung out of parents and guardians when it is too late to withhold one's fiat."

I looked grave, and begged him to be explicit. "Do you speak merely," said I, "Mr. Bentley, upon a general supposition of what may be possible, or have you any reason to suppose that your nephew's happiness is likely to be endangered? Not the remotest suspicion has ever glanced across my mind, and I should take it as a favour, if, since you have touched upon the subject, you would enlighten me farther, by mentioning the ground of your surmise?"

"My dear ma'am, it is not actually surmise. I may be wrong, and must acquit George of having given me the slightest insight into his mind. In fact, he is very close; it is the only fault that I find with him, and my sole reason for suspecting, is derived from my own observation of his avidity to puzzle his brains about a great many useless things, such as chemistry, botany, and the like, which never put a guinea into a young gentleman's pocket. Now, you know that Mrs. Douglas and her daughters are so learned, that they could sack a grand jury; though I must do them the justice to add, that no people in the country are more beloved than they are. Nothing can exceed their unpretending goodness. But George has no pretensions; he must make his own way in the world, and cannot afford to waste his precious hours in learning what I call fal lals, that will never help him through life. To tell you the honest truth, I am a little jealous of both Lisfarne and Glenalta. I see no business that any young man has to love or like mortal better than his own flesh and blood; and more time and wits are lavished in these foolish episodes which just end in nothing, than would put a man many a mile forward in his professional career. People fall in love through very idleness and vacuity. A young tenant of my own, excused himself lately, when I asked him what could possess him to marry a girl without sixpence, by replying, 'Indeed, sir, she lived so handy that we were always together, and 'twas the same thing we thought to get married.' Poor George would be probably dismissed by the Douglas family if they entertained the least idea of such presumption, as no doubt, a hope on my nephew's part, would be considered; and you will therefore not wonder, my dear Mrs. Sandford, that I am anxious to get my business in London, and a month at Buxton well over, that I may return home, where it is necessary that George should see after my affairs during my absence. I have seen a great deal of life, though not upon a grand scale; and I know the folly of romance. Mrs. Douglas, I make no question, is as prudent as she is sensible, and has never given her children so elegant an education, to throw them away upon paupers. My own opinion is, that money is the only thing that does not disappoint. I do not say the only thing that is good, far from it; but while mental qualities may be only feigned, sweet tempers and dispositions assumed but for a season, accomplishments suffered to languish, beauty doomed to fade, money performs its promise, and procures all the comfort, and all the happiness that it ever engages to purchase. I repeat this every week of my life to poor George, but he is so reserved, that I never have the satisfaction of hearing whether or not I make any impression upon him."

To this exposé, I listened with the most profound attention, and could only reply, "my dear sir, it appears to me that you are putting trouble out to interest, and compound interest, by the view that you take of your family affairs. I can assure you that the remotest hint has never reached me, respecting any suspicion of a feeling such as you ascribe to your nephew, who I dare say, is too much in the habit of venerating your counsels to fly in your face, by presuming to bestow his affections without your approbation; though whenever he does, at some distant period of his life, obtain your permission to offer his hand in marriage, I conclude that you will have no objection to his loving his wife better than you, as he must make a solemn vow to that effect, and cleave to her in preference to all created things. But of one part of your anxiety, I can with certainty relieve you; rest assured, that if the slightest symptom appeared to warrant my friend, Mrs. Douglas, in imagining as you do, the most decisive measures would be instantly adopted to prevent any painful result."

"I thought so; I always said so," rejoined hastily, Mr. Bentley. "I knew that Mrs. Douglas had a judgment too profound not to determine on marrying her daughters to men of fortune. I have told my opinion in George's presence (not to him, for the last thing I should desire, would be to convey to his mind, that an idea, such as I have confided to you, ever entered mine), a thousand and a thousand times; and I feel that my discernment is extremely flattered by your assurance, that I saw how the land lay so clearly. Your allusion to interest, and compound interest, is very just and beautiful; and I declare that you have set my mind quite at rest."