HENRIETTA.

BOOK THE SECOND.

CHAP. I.

In which Henrietta enters upon her own story, and shews, that to confer benefits, is not always a proof of benevolence.

The worthy merchant,” resumed miss Courteney, “whom I mentioned to you, had the goodness to come to Bath, upon the news of my mother’s extreme danger. He arrived time enough to receive her last intreaties, that he would continue his friendship to me. I was then entered into my twentieth year, and chose him for my guardian; he would have taken me with him to his house, but my promise being engaged to lady Manning, I was obliged to decline his obliging offer.

“I sent her an account of my mother’s death; Mr. Damer, so was the merchant called, would not return to town till he saw me safely disposed of.

“About three days after I had written to lady Manning, I received a letter from her, which was brought by one of her servants: in which, after the usual compliments of condolence, she desired I would set out immediately with the person whom she had sent to attend me. My guardian, for so I used now to call Mr. Damer, coming in, I told him I must prepare to be gone immediately, and gave him lady Manning’s letter to read.

“How are you to go, miss? said he, after he had looked over the letter. As I never doubted but lady Manning had sent her post-chaise or chariot for me, I told him I supposed there was a carriage come with the messenger.

“O yes, replied Mr. Damer, there is a very good pillion, and you are to ride behind the footman. I took notice of the equipage as I came in, but I shall not permit you to perform a journey of thirty miles in that manner: therefore, miss, I would have you send a letter to the lady by her messenger, and inform her that your guardian will convey you safe to her seat.

“I was as much pleased with this kind attention in Mr. Damer, as I was shocked and surprised at the ungenteel manner in which lady Manning had sent for me: however, I concealed my thoughts of it, and wrote such a letter as my guardian desired me. The next morning at eight o’clock, a post-chaise was ready at the door, and Mr. Damer attending; all my cloaths had been packed up the night before, and we set out immediately.

“Lady Manning received us very politely, and detained Mr. Damer to dinner. I thought I could observe something forced in the respect she seemed to pay me; and I was particularly disgusted with her using the words Your guardian every moment, as if in derision of the title I had to one.

“When Mr. Damer went away, he took an opportunity to speak to me apart, and made me promise him, if I should have any reason to be displeased with my situation, that I would write to him plainly, and he would come himself and fetch me away. This tender solicitude in the good old man affected me very sensibly, and I could not help shedding tears when I saw him drive away.

“Lady Manning was extremely inquisitive about his connexion with me, and asked me a great many questions. I am very glad, said she, your affairs are in the hands of so wise a man; for surely he who can raise a large estate out of a trifle, as has been the case with Mr. Damer, must needs be a very wise man, and I don’t doubt but he will manage your fortune to the best advantage.

“I was greatly displeased with the first part of this speech, and particularly with the manner in which the word Fortune was drauled out.

“The poor trifle I have, madam, replied I, does not deserve to be termed a fortune.

“I assure you, said she, it was very kind in a man of Mr. Damer’s substance to trouble himself with such inconsiderable matters; and it is a great thing for you to be permitted to call such a man guardian.

“Very true, madam, replied I, with some warmth; and I believe Mr. Damer thinks it no discredit to be called so by a child of Mr. Courteney’s, whatever her fortune may be.

“I observed lady Manning to reden at this reply, which at that time surprised me, and I could not conceive the reason of it; but I soon found that it was a mortal crime in her eyes to pretend to derive any advantage from birth. There was nothing which she seemed to hold in greater contempt than family-pride, and indeed, when unseasonably exerted, it is contemptible; but it was plain that lady Manning did not think meanly of the fortuitous advantage of being well-born, because she envied those who possessed that advantage; and tho’ the daughter of a soap-boiler herself, she was extremely fond of being thought to have ancestors; and it was to gratify her pride, that her husband, who was a rich citizen,15 by trade a brewer, got himself knighted, that, together with a very large jointure, he might leave his wife the title of lady.”

“Surely,” interrupted miss Woodby, “this woman had no good intentions when she invited you to her house; it is impossible that such low creatures can have any notion of friendship or generosity.”

“You have guessed truly,” replied miss Courteney; “it was to gratify her pride, to have the daughter of a gentleman subjected to her caprice, and dependent on her bounty, that made her so solicitous to have me with her; but although I did not make these reflections immediately, yet I was so disgusted by this first conversation, that I could not promise myself any great happiness in such society.

“Her daughter was now introduced to me, a tall aukward thing about seventeen: she was an heiress; and being taught to believe that riches give birth, beauty, wit, and every desirable quality, she held every one in contempt who was not possessed of this advantage, and because she had it herself, she supposed she had all the others.

“Whatever documents were given her, they were always introduced with—Consider, miss, what a fortune you are—a young lady of your fortune. — How was it possible for a girl thus tutored, not to derive insolence from the consideration of her fortune?

“The governess, who had the care of this young lady, was not very likely to enlarge her notions—Her only recommendation to such a trust was, that she could jabber corrupted French without either sense or grammar, and miss was taught to parler françoise in a broad provincial dialect; for this governess had never seen Paris, and perhaps had never been out of the little village where she was born and bred, and conversed only with peasants, till she came to England to teach language and fine breeding to a rich heiress. It was very natural for lady Manning to make such a choice, who doubtless thought it a great distinction to have a foreigner for governess to her daughter.”

“Nay, my dear,” interrupted miss Woodby, “lady Manning in this particular does not differ from many persons of the first quality, who commit the education of their daughters to low vulgar creatures, meerly because they are French; creatures that in Paris, or in any of the chief cities in the provinces, would not be thought qualified for a chamber-maid to a woman of any fashion, yet when driven into England on account of their religion, as they all pretend, though perhaps it is for want of bread in their own country, derive such distinction from their flimsy sacks, their powdered hair, and their speaking French, that they are thought the fittest persons in the world to form the manners of young girls of quality.16 How absurd should we think it in a French woman of quality to entertain an aukward Yorkshire girl with a coarse clownish accent, as English governess to her daughter, to teach her the language, and correct her pronunciation? and yet not one in twenty of the Mademoiselles in the houses of our nobility and our French boarding-schools are better qualified for such an office.—But I beg pardon, my dear, for interrupting you so long: I long to hear what sort of a life you lived in this rich despicable family.”

“Truly,” said miss Courteney, “it was not very agreeable: when lady Manning and I were alone, she used to entertain me with an account of her forefathers; she reckoned up among them half a dozen sheriffs, three lord-mayors, and a long train of aldermen. She lamented the death of her husband most pathetically; for if he had lived two years longer, he would have been elected lord-mayor, and she would have lived in the Mansion-house, and been queen of the city—These were her words.

“When we were at table and the servants attending, she used to turn the discourse upon the misfortunes of my father, lament the sad condition to which my mother and I were reduced by his death, express great anxiety about my brother, and enter into a minute discussion of our affairs.

“When there was company present, she would take notice that I was melancholy, and tell me that I must not take misfortunes to heart, and then sigh as if she was extremely affected with them herself; by which she recommended me to her visiters as an object of compassion, and never failed by that means to produce some instances of neglect towards me; so powerfully did that consideration operate upon most minds.

“She would sharply reprehend her daughter for any supposed want of civility to me, and pass over in silence any real one; telling her that if miss Courteney had not a fortune, yet she was a gentlewoman as well as herself, and that no body should be despised for being poor.

“Such were the continued mortifications that I was obliged to endure from this generous benefactress: yet I ought not to call them mortifications, because they only excited my contempt. About that time I received a letter from my brother, in which he informed me that he was going to travel with a young English nobleman, whose governor had died suddenly at Leyden, and whom he was appointed to succeed upon a very advantageous footing, on account of his birth; he desired me to draw upon him for what money I had occasion for.

“I received these insults with the more indifference, as I knew I could put an end to them when I pleased, by quitting lady Manning’s house, which I could now do without any inconvenience to myself; and foreseeing that this indelicacy in her treatment of me, must necessarily end in something too coarse for me to dissemble my resentment, I was willing to stay till she shewed herself in her true colours, which would be my justification whenever I quitted her.”