Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph | ||
T H E
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION.
I WAS invited to pass a month last summer in Buckinghamshire by a friend, who paid annually a visit to his mother, a lady pretty far advanced in years, but extremely chearful, sensible, and well-bred.
She lived altogether in the country, in a good old-fashioned house, which was part of her jointure; and it was to this hospitable mansion he carried me.
The lady received me very politely, as her son's friend; and I have great reason to be obliged to him for the introduction.
My friend and I generally dedicated our
It happened one evening, which was on the eve of the day appointed for our departure, that we had made choice of the tragedy of Douglas for our entertainment, when a neighbouring lady (a sensible woman) who had drank tea with us, desired to make one of our auditors.
After the tea-table was removed, we entered on our task; my friend and I reading alternately, to relieve each other, that we might not injure the performance by a wearied or flat delivery.
When we had finish'd the reading of it, they each in her turn bestowed high praises on it; but the visitor lady said, that notwithstanding the pleasure it had afforded her upon the whole, she had one great objection to it. We were all impatient to know what it was. I think, said she, that the moral, which it inculcates is a discouraging lesson, especially to youth; for the
We each spoke our thoughts on the subject, as opinion led us, when the old lady drew our attention, which she always did, whenever she delivered her sentiments.
I should think as you do, madam, said she, if there were not too many melancholy precedents to give a sanction to the fable of that tragedy. I do not say but that the poet, who is a liberty to dispose as he pleases of the works of his own creation, may as well reward and punish according to the measures of justice established in the world; it might, perhaps make a better impression, and indeed afford a more prevalent example, to the generality of young people. I say, therefore, I do not take upon me to support an opposite conduct as the best, but surely the poet who prefers that course, may be justified in it from every day's experience. If we always saw
On the contrary, I think it should serve to confirm that great lesson which we are all taught indeed, but which we seldom think of reducing to practice, viz. to use the good things of this life with that indifference, which things that are neither permanent in their own nature, nor of any estimation in the sight of God, deserve.
On the other hand, to consider the evils which befal us, as equally temporary, and no more dispensed by the great ruler of all things for punishments, than the others are for rewards; and by thus estimating both, to look forward for an equal distribution of justice, to that place only, where (let our station be what it will) our lot is to be unchangeable. It is in this light that I was instructed in my early days to consider the
We are indeed so much used to what they call poetical justice, that we are disappointed in the catastrophe of a fable, if everybody concerned in it be not disposed of according to the sentence of that judge which we have set up in our own breasts.
The contrary we know happens in real life; let us not then condemn what is drawn from real life.—We may wish to see nature copied from her more pleasing works; but a martyr expiring in tortures is as just, though not as agreeable, a representation of her, as a hero rewarded with the brightest honours.
We agreed with the venerable lady in her observations; and her son taking occasion from her mentioning that unfortunate person, who was her friend, told her, he would take it as a particular favour, if she would oblige me with the sight of that lady's story.
She answered, that as we had fixed upon the next day for our departure, there would not be time for me to peruse it, but that she would entrust me with it to town, that I might read it at my leisure. It is drawn up, said she, for the most part, by the lady herself, and the occasion of its being so was this: She and I had been intimate from our childhood; we were playfellows when young, and constant companions as we grew up. We always called each other sister, and loved as well as if we had really stood in that relation to each other. It was our continual practice from children to keep little journals of what daily happened to us; these, in all our short absences, were matter of great entertainment
I had a brother about three years older than myself; a very promising young man. He was an only son, and the darling of his parents: when he had finished his studies, my father thought of sending him abroad, but his fondness for him made him resolve to accompany him himself.
A better tutor or a better guide he could not have found for him; my father was then in the prime of life, he had not other children but him and me. My mother, as fond of me as he was of his son, and perfectly affectionate to my father, expressed her wish, that we two should be of this party. She said, the thought a young lady under proper conduct, might improve as much by seeing foreign courts, and the various customs of different nations, as a young gentleman.
I was then about sixteen; my father readily
I have from those papers selected the most material parts of her history, and connected them so as to make one continued narrative.
There were long intervals of time between many of the most important incidents of her life; but as the passages which intervened were either foreign to the main scope of her story, or too trivial to be recorded, in copying her papers they were omitted.
I have, myself, prefixed to her story, a very brief account of the lady's family.
Thus much, Sir, added the good lady, I thought
When I took my leave, she put the manuscript into my hands, with a charge to be careful of it.
We returned to town, and in less three weeks I had the mortification to hear that this respectable old lady, by whom I had been entertained with so much friendship and politeness, was dead. Her son (my friend) was on this occasion obliged to go down into Buckinghamshire; it was some months before I saw him again, as he had a good deal of family business to settle.
When he came back to London, I offered to return him the manuscript, which he had quite forgot. He told me, as he had all the original papers, that copy was at my service.
I then expressed my wish that it were made public. To this he at first objected, as he said there were several persons living related to the parties concerned in some of the principal events of the story, who might take umbrage at it. I told him, that this might easily be obviated, by changing the names both of persons and places, which I would undertake to do throughout the whole; and I was afterwards so urgent with him to comply with my request, that he at last yielded.
Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph | ||