Chapter iv.

The history of Mrs Fitzpatrick.

Mrs Fitzpatrick, after a silence of a few moments, fetching a deep

sigh, thus began:

“It is natural to the unhappy to feel a secret concern in recollecting

those periods of their lives which have been most delightful to them.

The remembrance of past pleasures affects us with a kind of tender

grief, like what we suffer for departed friends; and the ideas of both

may be said to haunt our imaginations.

“For this reason, I never reflect without sorrow on those days (the

happiest far of my life) which we spent together when both were under

the care of my aunt Western. Alas! why are Miss Graveairs and Miss

Giddy no more? You remember, I am sure, when we knew each other by no

other names. Indeed, you gave the latter appellation with too much

cause. I have since experienced how much I deserved it. You, my

Sophia, was always my superior in everything, and I heartily hope you

will be so in your fortune. I shall never forget the wise and matronly

advice you once gave me, when I lamented being disappointed of a ball,

though you could not be then fourteen years old.----O my Sophy, how

blest must have been my situation, when I could think such a

disappointment a misfortune; and when indeed it was the greatest I had

ever known!”

“And yet, my dear Harriet,” answered Sophia, “it was then a serious

matter with you. Comfort yourself therefore with thinking, that

whatever you now lament may hereafter appear as trifling and

contemptible as a ball would at this time.”

“Alas, my Sophia,” replied the other lady, “you yourself will think

otherwise of my present situation; for greatly must that tender heart

be altered if my misfortunes do not draw many a sigh, nay, many a

tear, from you. The knowledge of this should perhaps deter me from

relating what I am convinced will so much affect you.” Here Mrs

Fitzpatrick stopt, till, at the repeated entreaties of Sophia, she

thus proceeded:

“Though you must have heard much of my marriage; yet, as matters may

probably have been misrepresented, I will set out from the very

commencement of my unfortunate acquaintance with my present husband;

which was at Bath, soon after you left my aunt, and returned home to

your father.

“Among the gay young fellows who were at this season at Bath, Mr

Fitzpatrick was one. He was handsome, _dégagé,_ extremely gallant, and

in his dress exceeded most others. In short, my dear, if you was

unluckily to see him now, I could describe him no better than by

telling you he was the very reverse of everything which he is: for he

hath rusticated himself so long, that he is become an absolute wild

Irishman. But to proceed in my story: the qualifications which he then

possessed so well recommended him, that, though the people of quality

at that time lived separate from the rest of the company, and excluded

them from all their parties, Mr Fitzpatrick found means to gain

admittance. It was perhaps no easy matter to avoid him; for he

required very little or no invitation; and as, being handsome and

genteel, he found it no very difficult matter to ingratiate himself

with the ladies, so, he having frequently drawn his sword, the men did

not care publickly to affront him. Had it not been for some such

reason, I believe he would have been soon expelled by his own sex; for

surely he had no strict title to be preferred to the English gentry;

nor did they seem inclined to show him any extraordinary favour. They

all abused him behind his back, which might probably proceed from

envy; for by the women he was well received, and very particularly

distinguished by them.

“My aunt, though no person of quality herself, as she had always lived

about the court, was enrolled in that party; for, by whatever means

you get into the polite circle, when you are once there, it is

sufficient merit for you that you are there. This observation, young

as you was, you could scarce avoid making from my aunt, who was free,

or reserved, with all people, just as they had more or less of this

merit.

“And this merit, I believe, it was, which principally recommended Mr

Fitzpatrick to her favour. In which he so well succeeded, that he was

always one of her private parties. Nor was he backward in returning

such distinction; for he soon grew so very particular in his behaviour

to her, that the scandal club first began to take notice of it, and

the better-disposed persons made a match between them. For my own

part, I confess, I made no doubt but that his designs were strictly

honourable, as the phrase is; that is, to rob a lady of her fortune by

way of marriage. My aunt was, I conceived, neither young enough nor

handsome enough to attract much wicked inclination; but she had

matrimonial charms in great abundance.

“I was the more confirmed in this opinion from the extraordinary

respect which he showed to myself from the first moment of our

acquaintance. This I understood as an attempt to lessen, if possible,

that disinclination which my interest might be supposed to give me

towards the match; and I know not but in some measure it had that

effect; for, as I was well contented with my own fortune, and of all

people the least a slave to interested views, so I could not be

violently the enemy of a man with whose behaviour to me I was greatly

pleased; and the more so, as I was the only object of such respect;

for he behaved at the same time to many women of quality without any

respect at all.

“Agreeable as this was to me, he soon changed it into another kind of

behaviour, which was perhaps more so. He now put on much softness and

tenderness, and languished and sighed abundantly. At times, indeed,

whether from art or nature I will not determine, he gave his usual

loose to gaiety and mirth; but this was always in general company, and

with other women; for even in a country-dance, when he was not my

partner, he became grave, and put on the softest look imaginable the

moment he approached me. Indeed he was in all things so very

particular towards me, that I must have been blind not to have

discovered it. And, and, and----” “And you was more pleased still, my

dear Harriet,” cries Sophia; “you need not be ashamed,” added she,

sighing; “for sure there are irresistible charms in tenderness, which

too many men are able to affect.” “True,” answered her cousin; “men,

who in all other instances want common sense, are very Machiavels in

the art of loving. I wish I did not know an instance.--Well, scandal

now began to be as busy with me as it had before been with my aunt;

and some good ladies did not scruple to affirm that Mr Fitzpatrick had

an intrigue with us both.

“But, what may seem astonishing, my aunt never saw, nor in the least

seemed to suspect, that which was visible enough, I believe, from both

our behaviours. One would indeed think that love quite puts out the

eyes of an old woman. In fact, they so greedily swallow the addresses

which are made to them, that, like an outrageous glutton, they are not

at leisure to observe what passes amongst others at the same table.

This I have observed in more cases than my own; and this was so

strongly verified by my aunt, that, though she often found us together

at her return from the pump, the least canting word of his, pretending

impatience at her absence, effectually smothered all suspicion. One

artifice succeeded with her to admiration. This was his treating me

like a little child, and never calling me by any other name in her

presence but that of pretty miss. This indeed did him some disservice

with your humble servant; but I soon saw through it, especially as in

her absence he behaved to me, as I have said, in a different manner.

However, if I was not greatly disobliged by a conduct of which I had

discovered the design, I smarted very severely for it; for my aunt

really conceived me to be what her lover (as she thought him) called

me, and treated me in all respects as a perfect infant. To say the

truth, I wonder she had not insisted on my again wearing

leading-strings.

“At last, my lover (for so he was) thought proper, in a most solemn

manner, to disclose a secret which I had known long before. He now

placed all the love which he had pretended to my aunt to my account.

He lamented, in very pathetic terms, the encouragement she had given

him, and made a high merit of the tedious hours in which he had

undergone her conversation.--What shall I tell you, my dear

Sophia?--Then I will confess the truth. I was pleased with my man. I

was pleased with my conquest. To rival my aunt delighted me; to rival

so many other women charmed me. In short, I am afraid I did not behave

as I should do, even upon the very first declaration--I wish I did not

almost give him positive encouragement before we parted.

“The Bath now talked loudly--I might almost say, roared against me.

Several young women affected to shun my acquaintance, not so much,

perhaps, from any real suspicion, as from a desire of banishing me

from a company in which I too much engrossed their favourite man. And

here I cannot omit expressing my gratitude to the kindness intended me

by Mr Nash, who took me one day aside, and gave me advice, which if I

had followed, I had been a happy woman. `Child,' says he, `I am sorry

to see the familiarity which subsists between you and a fellow who is

altogether unworthy of you, and I am afraid will prove your ruin. As

for your old stinking aunt, if it was to be no injury to you and my

pretty Sophy Western (I assure you I repeat his words), I should be

heartily glad that the fellow was in possession of all that belongs to

her. I never advise old women: for, if they take it into their heads

to go to the devil, it is no more possible than worth while to keep

them from him. Innocence and youth and beauty are worthy a better

fate, and I would save them from his clutches. Let me advise you

therefore, dear child, never suffer this fellow to be particular with

you again.' Many more things he said to me, which I have now

forgotten, and indeed I attended very little to them at the time; for

inclination contradicted all he said; and, besides, I could not be

persuaded that women of quality would condescend to familiarity with

such a person as he described.

“But I am afraid, my dear, I shall tire you with a detail of so many

minute circumstances. To be concise, therefore, imagine me married;

imagine me with my husband, at the feet of my aunt; and then imagine

the maddest woman in Bedlam, in a raving fit, and your imagination

will suggest to you no more than what really happened.

“The very next day my aunt left the place, partly to avoid seeing Mr

Fitzpatrick or myself, and as much perhaps to avoid seeing any one

else; for, though I am told she hath since denied everything stoutly,

I believe she was then a little confounded at her disappointment.

Since that time, I have written to her many letters, but never could

obtain an answer, which I must own sits somewhat the heavier, as she

herself was, though undesignedly, the occasion of all my sufferings:

for, had it not been under the colour of paying his addresses to her,

Mr Fitzpatrick would never have found sufficient opportunities to have

engaged my heart, which, in other circumstances, I still flatter

myself would not have been an easy conquest to such a person. Indeed,

I believe I should not have erred so grossly in my choice if I had

relied on my own judgment; but I trusted totally to the opinion of

others, and very foolishly took the merit of a man for granted whom I

saw so universally well received by the women. What is the reason, my

dear, that we, who have understandings equal to the wisest and

greatest of the other sex, so often make choice of the silliest

fellows for companions and favourites? It raises my indignation to the

highest pitch to reflect on the numbers of women of sense who have

been undone by fools.” Here she paused a moment; but, Sophia making no

answer, she proceeded as in the next chapter.