University of Virginia Library

LETTER IV.

I continued my visits to my father as usual.
Affairs proceeded nearly in their old channel.
Frank and I never met but by accident, and our
interviews began and ended merely with a good
morrow. I never mentioned Risberg's name to
my father, and observed that he as studiously avoided
lighting on the same topic.

One day a friend chanced to mention the greatness
of my fortune, and congratulated me on my
title to two such large patrimonies as those of
Mrs. Fielder and my father. I was far from
viewing my condition in the same light with my
friend. My mother's fortune, was indeed large
and permament, but my claim to it was merely
through her voluntary favour, of which a thousand
accidents might bereave me. As to my
father's property, Frank had taken care very
early to suggest to him that I was amply provided
for in Mrs. Fielder's good graces, and
that it was equitable to bequeath the whole inheritance
to him. This disposition indeed was
not made without my knowledge; but tho' I was
sensible that I held of my maternal friend by a
very precarius tenure; that my character and

education were likely to secure a much wiser
and more useful application of money than my
brother's habits, it was impossible for me openly
to object to this arrangement; so that as
things stood, tho' the world, in estimating my
merits, never forgot that my father was rich,
and that Frank and I were his only children, I
had in reality no prospect of inheriting a farthing
from him.

Indeed, I always entertained a presentiment that
I should one day be poor, and have to rely for subsistence
on my own labour. With this persuasion,
I frequently busied my thoughts in imagining
the most lucrative and decent means of
employing my ingenuity, and directed my enquiries
to many things of little or no use, but on
the irksome supposition that I should one day
live by my own labour. But this is a digression.

In answer to my friend's remarks, I observed
that my father's property was much less consi
derable than some people imagined, that time
made no accession to it, and that my brother's
well known habits, were likely to reduce it
much below its present standard, long before it
would come to a division.

There, Jane, you are mistaken, said my friend,
or rather you are willing to mislead me; for
you must know that tho' your father appears to
be idle, yet your brother is speculating with
his money at an enormous rate.

And pray, said I, for I did not wish to betray
all the surprise that this intelligence gave me,
in what speculations is he engaged?

How should I tell you, who scarcely know the
meaning of the word. I only heard my father
say that young Talbot, though seemingly swallowed
up in pleasure, knew how to turn a penny
as well as another, and was employing his father's
wealth in speculation; That, I remember,
was his word, but I never, for my part, took the
trouble to enquire what speculation meant. I
know only that it is some hazardous or complicated
way of getting money.

These hints, tho' the conversation passed immediately
to other subjects, made a deep impression
on my mind. My brother's character,
I knew to be incompatible with any sort of industry,
and had various reasons for believing
my father's property to be locked up in bank
stock. If my friend's story were true, there was
a new instance of the influence which Frank had
acquired over his father. I had very indistinct
ideas of speculation, but was used to regard it as
something very hazardous, and almost criminal.

I told my mother all my uneasiness. She
thought it worth while to take some means of
getting at the truth, in conversation with my father.
Agreeably to her advice, on my next visit,
I opened the subject, by repeating exactly
what I heard. I concluded by asking if it were
true.

Why yes, said he, it is partly true, I must
confess. Some time ago Frank laid his projects
before me, and they appeared so promising and
certain of success, that I ventured to give him
possession of a large sum.

And what scheme, sir, was it, if I may venture
to ask.

Why child, these are subjects so much out of
thy way, that thou wouldst hardly comprehend
any explanation that I could give.

Perhaps so: but what success, dear sir, have
you met with?

Why I can't but say, that affairs have not
been quite as expeditious in their progress as
I had reason, at first, to expect. Unlooked for
delays and impediments will occur in the prosecution
of the best schemes, and these, I must
own, have been well enough accounted for.

But, dear sir, the scheme I doubt not was
very beneficial that induced you to hazard your
whole fortune. I thought you had absolutely
withdrawn yourself from all the hazards and solicitudes
of business.

Why indeed, I had so, and should never have
engaged again in them, of my own accord. Indeed,
I trouble not myself with any details at
present. I am just as much at my ease as I used
to be. I leave every thing to Frank.

But sir, the hazard; the uncertainty of all
projects. Would you expose yourself at this
time of life, to the possibility of being reduced
to distress. And had you not enough already?

Why what you say, Jane, is very true; these
things did occur to me, and they strongly disinclined
me, at first, from your brother's proposals;
but, I don't know how it was, he made
out the thing to be so very advantageous; the
success of it so infallible; and his own wants
were so numerous that my whole income was
insufficient to supply them: the Lord knows
how it has happened. In my time, I could
live upon a little. Even with a wife and family;

my needs did not require a fourth of the sum
that Frank, without wife or child, contrives to
spend, yet I can't object neither. He makes it
out that he spends no more than his rank in
life, as he calls it, indispensibly requires.
Rather than encroach upon my funds, and the
prospects of success being so very flattering,
and Frank so very urgent and so very sanguine,
whose own interest it is to be sure of his footing,
I even, at last, consented.

But I hope, dear sir, your prudence provided
in some degree against the possibility of
failure. No doubt, you reserved something
which might serve as a stay to your old age in
case this hopeful project miscarried. Absolutely
to hazard all on the faith of any project
whatever, was unworthy of one of your experience
and discretion.

My father, Henry, was a good man. Humane,
affectionate, kind, and of strict integrity,
but I scarcely need to add, after what I have
already related, that his understanding was far
from being vigorous, or his temper firm. His
foibles, indeed, acquired strength as he advanced
in years, while his kindness and benevolence
remained undiminished.

His acquiescence in my brother's schemes
can hardly be ranked with follies; you, who
know what scheme it was, who know the intoxicating
influence of a specious project, and
especially, the wonderful address and plausibility
of Catling, the adventurer, who was my
brother's prime minister and chief agent in
that ruinous transaction, will not consider their
adopting the phantom as any proof of the folly

of either father or son. But let me return. To
my compliment to his experience and discretion,
my father replied—why, truly, I hardly
know how it may turn out in the long run. At
first indeed, I only consented to come down
with a few thousands, the total loss of which
would not break my heart; but this, it seems,
though it was all they at first demanded, did
not prove quite sufficient. Some debts they
were obliged to contract, to no great amount,
indeed, and these must be paid or the scheme
relinquished. Having gone so far into the scheme
it was absurd to let a trifle stop me. I must
own, had I foreseen all the demands that have
been made, from time to time, I should never
have engaged in it, but I have been led on
from one step to another, till I fear, it would
avail me nothing to hesitate or hold back: and
Frank's representations are so very plausible?

Does your whole subsistence then, my dear sir,
depend on the success of this scheme? Suppose
it should utterly fail, what will be the consequences
to yourself.

Fail! That is impossible. It cannot fail, but
through want of money, and I am solemnly assured
that no more will be necessary.

But how often, Sir, has this assurance been
given? No doubt with as much solemnity the
first time as the last.

My father began to grow impatient—It is useless,
Jane, to start difficulties and objections now.
It is too late to go back, even if I were disinclined
to go forward, and I have no doubt of
ultimate success. Be a good girl, and you shall
come in for a share of the profit. Mrs. Fielder

and I, between us, will make you the richest
heiress in America. Let that consideration reconcile
you to the scheme.

I could not but smile at this argument. I well
knew that my brother's rapacity was not to be
satisfied with millions. To sit down and say, “I
have enough” was utterly incompatible with his
character. I dropped the conversation for the
present.

My thoughts were full of uneasiness. The
mere sound of the word “project” alarmed me.
I had little desire of knowing the exact nature
of the scheme, being no wise qualified to judge
of its practicability; but a scheme in which my
brother was the agent, in which my father's
whole property was hazarded, and which appeared,
from the account I had just heard, at
least, not to have fulfilled the first expectations,
could not be regarded with tranquillity.

I took occasion to renew the subject with my
father, some time after this. I could only deal
in general observations on the imprudence of
putting independence and subsistence to hazard;
though the past was not to be recalled, yet the
future was his own, and it would not be unworthy
of him to act with caution. I was obliged to
mingle this advice with much foreign matter,
and convey it in the most indirect and gentle
terms. His pride was easily offended at being
thought to want the council of a girl.

He replied to my remarks with confidence,
that no farther demand would be made upon
him. The last sum was given with extreme reluctance,
and nothing but the pofitive assurance
that it would absolutely be the last, had prevailed
with him.

Suppose, sir, said I, what you have already
given should prove insufficient. Suppose some
new demand should be made upon you.

I cannot suppose that, after so many solemn
and positive assurances.

But were not assurances as positive and solemn
on every former occasion as the last.

Why yes, I must own they were, but new circumstances
arose that could not be foreseen.

And, dear sir, may not new circumstances
arise hereafter that could not be foreseen.

Nay, nay (with some impatience) I tell you
there cannot be any.

I said no more on this subject at this time,
but my father, notwithstanding the confidence
he expressed, was far from being at ease.

One day I found him in great perturbation. I
met my brother, who was going out as I entered,
and suspected the cause of his disquiet. He
spoke less than usual, and sighed deeply. I endeavoured,
by various means, to prevail on
him to communicate his thoughts, and, at last
succeeded. My brother, it seems had made a
new demand upon his purse, and he had been
brought reluctantly, to consent to raise the necessary
sum by a Mortgage on his house, the
only real property he possessed. My brother
had gone to procure a lender and prepare the
deeds.

I was less surprised at this intelligence than
grieved. I thought I saw my father's ruin was
inevitable, and knew not how to prevent or
procrastinate it. After a long pause, I ventured
to insinuate that, as the thing was yet to be
done, as there was still time for deliberation—

No, no, interrupted he, I must go on. It is
too late to repent. Unless new funds are supplied,
all that we have hitherto done will go for
nothing, and Frank assures me that one more
sacrifice, and all will be well.

Alas! sir, are you still deceived by that language.
Can you still listen to assurances,
which experience has so often shewn to be falacious.
I know nothing of this fine project,
but I can see, too clearly, that unless you hold
your hand you will be undone. Would to heaven
you would hesitate a moment—I said a
great deal more to the same purpose, and was
at length interrupted by a message from my
brother, who desired to see me a few minutes in
the parlour below. Tho' at a loss as to what
could occasion such an unusual summons, I hastened
down.

I found my brother with a strange mixture
of pride, perplexity and solicitude in his looks.
His “how d'ye” was delivered in a graver tone
than common, and he betrayed a disposition to
conciliate my good will, far beyond what I had
ever witnessed before. I waited with impatience
to hear what he had to communicate.

At last, with many pauses and much hesitation
he said;—Jane, I suppose your legacy is
untouched. Was it two or three thousand Mrs.
Mathews put you down for in her will?

The sum was three thousand dollars. You
know that, though it was left entirely at my
own disposal, yet the bequest was accompanied
with advice to keep it unimpaired till I should
want it for my own proper subsistence. On
that condition I received, and on that condition
shall keep it

I am glad of it with all my heart, replied he,
with affected vivacity. I was afraid you had
spent it by this time on dolls, trinkets, and baby-things.
The sum is entire you say? In your
drawer? I am surprised you could resist the
temptation to spend it. I wonder nobody
thought of robbing you.

You cannot suppose brother, I would keep
that sum in my possession. You know it was
in Bank at my Aunt's death, and there it has remained.

At what bank pr'y thee?

I told him.

Well, I am extremely glad thou hadst wit enough
to keep it snug, for now the time has
come to put it to some use. My father and I
have a scheme on foot by which we shall realize
immense profit. The more engines we set
to work, the greater and more speedy will be
the ultimate advantage. It occurred to me that
you had some money, and that, unless it were
better employed, it would be but justice to allow
you to throw it into stock. If therefore,
you are willing, it shall be done. What say
you Jane?

This proposal was totally unexpected. I harboured
not a moment's doubt as to the conduct
it became me to pursue, but how to declare my
resolutions, or state my reasons for declining
his offer, I knew not.

At last, I stammered out, that, my Aunt had
bequeathed me this money, with views as to the
future disposition of it, from which I did not
think myself at liberty to swerve.

And pray, said he, with some heat, what
were these profound views?

They were simple and obvious views. She
knew my sex and education laid me under peculiar
difficulties as to subsistence. As affairs
then stood, there was little danger of my ever
being reduced to want or dependance, but still
there was a possibility of this. To ensure me against
this possible evil she left me this sum,
to be used only for subsistence, and when I
should be deprived of all other means.

Go on, said my brother. Repeat the clause
in which she forbids you, if at any time the opportunity
should be offered of doubling or trebling
your money, and thereby effectually securing
that independence which she wished to bequeath
to you, to profit by the offer. Pray, repeat
that clause.

Indeed, said I, innocently, there is no such
clause.

I am glad to hear it. I was afraid that she
was silly enough to insert some such prohibition.
On the contrary, the scheme I propose
to you, will merely execute your Aunt's great
purpose. Instead of forbidding, she would
have earnestly exhorted you, had she been a
prophetess, as well as a saint, to close with such
an offer as I now make you, in which, I can
assure you, I have your own good as well as
my own in view.

Observing my silent and perplexed air—
Why Jane, said he, surely you cannot hesitate.
What is your objection? Perhaps you are one
of those provident animals who look before
they leap, and having gained a monopoly of
wisdom, will take no scheme upon trust. You
must examine with your own eyes, I will explain

the affair to you if you chuse, and convince
you beyond controversy that your money may
be trebled in a twelvemonth.

You know brother, I can be no judge of any
scheme that is at all intricate.

There is no intricacy here. All is perfectly
simple and obvious. I can make the case as
plain to you, in three minutes, as that you have
two thumbs. In the English Cottons, in the
first place, there is—

Nay, Brother, it is entirely unnecessary to
explain the scheme. My determinations will
not be influenced by a statement which no
mortal eloquence will make intelligible to me.

Well then, you consent to my proposal?

I would rather you would look elsewhere for
a partner in your undertaking.

The girl's a fool—Why? what do you fear?
suspect? You surely cannot doubt my being
faithful to your interest. You will not insult
me so much as to suppose that I would defraud
you of your money. If you do, for, I know,
I do not stand very high in your opinion, if you
doubt my honesty, I will give you the common
proofs of having received your money. Nay,
so certain am I of success, that I will give you
my note; bond; what you please; for thrice
the amount, payable in one year.

My brother's bond will be of no use to me;
I shall never go to law with my brother.

Well then, what will satisfy you?

I am easily satisfied, Brother. I am contented
with things just as they are. The sum, indeed,
is a trifle, but it will answer all my humble
purposes.

Then you will, replied he, struggling with
his rage, you will not agree?

My silence was an unequivocal answer.

You turn out to be what I always thought
you, a little, perverse, stupid, obstinate—but
take time (softening his tone, a little,) take
time to consider of it.

Some unaccountable oddity, some friek must
have taken hold of you, just now, and turned
your wits out of door. 'Tis impossible you
should deliberately reject such an offer. Why,
girl, three thousand dollars has a great sound,
perhaps, to your ears, but you'll find it a most
wretched pittance, if you should ever be obliged
to live upon it. The interest would hardly
buy you garters and topknots. You live, at
this moment, at the rate of six times the sum.
You are now a wretched and precarious dependant
on Mrs. Fielder, her marriage, (a very
likely thing for one of her habits, fortune and
age,) will set you afloat in the world, and then
where will be your port. Your legacy, in any
way you can employ it, will not find you bread.
Three times the sum might answer, perhaps,
and that, if you will fall on my advice, you
may now attain in a single twelvemonth. Consider
these things, and I will call on you in the
evening for your final answer.

He was going, but I mustered resolution enough
to call him back. Brother one word.
All deliberation in this case is superfluous.
You may think my decision against so plausible
a scheme, perverse and absurd, but, in
this instance, I am fully sensible that I have
a right to do as I please, and shall exert that
right whatever censure I may incur.

So, then, you are determined not to part
with your paltry legacy?

I am determined not to part with it.

His eyes sparkled with rage, and stamping
on the floor, he exclaimed—Why then let me
tell you, Miss, you are a damned idiot. I
knew you were a fool, but could not believe
that your folly would ever carry you to these
lengths—much more in this style did poor
Frank utter on this occasion. I listened trembling,
confounded, vexed; and as soon as I
could recover presence of mind, hastened out
of his presence.

This dialogue occupied all my thoughts during
that day and the following. I was sitting,
next evening, at twilight pensively, in my own
apartment, when, to my infinite surprise, my
brother was announced. At parting with him
the day before, he swore, vehemently, that he
would never see my face again if he could help
it. I suppose this resolution had given way to
his anxiety to gain my concurrence with his
schemes, and would fain have shunned a second
interview. This however was impossible. I
therefore composed my tremours as well as I
was able, and directed him to be admitted.
The angry emotions of yesterday had disappeared
from his countenance, and he addressed
me, with his customary carelessness. After
a few trifling preliminaries, he asked me, if
I had considered the subject of our yesterday's
conversation. I answered that I had supposed
that subject to have been dismissed forever.
It was not possible for time or argument to
bring us to the same way of thinking on it. I

hoped therefore that he would not compel me
to discuss it a second time.

Instead of flying into rage, as I expected, he
fixed his eyes thoughtfully on the floor, and after
a melancholy pause, said—I expected to find
you invincible on that head. To say truth, I
came not to discuss that subject with you anew.
I came merely to ask a trifling favour—Here he
stopt. He was evidently at a loss how to proceed.
His features became more grave, and he
actually sighed.

My heart, I believe, thou knowest, Harry,
is the sport, the mere plaything of gratitude
and pity. Kindness will melt my firmest resolutions
in a moment. Intreaty will lead me to
the world's end. Gentle accents, mournful looks
in my brother, was a claim altogether irresistible.
The mildness, the condescension which I
now witnessed, thrilled to my heart. A grateful
tear rushed to my eye, and I almost articulated,
“dear, dear brother, be always thus kind and
thus good, and I will lay down my life for you.”

It was well for us both that my brother had
too much pride or too little cunning to profit
by the peculiarities of my temper. Had he put
a brotherly arm around me, and said, in an
affectionate tone, “dear sister, oblige me,” I
am afraid I should have instantly complied
with the most indiscreet and extravagant of his
requests.

Far otherwise, however, was his deportment.
This condescension was momentary. The words
had scarcely escaped him before he seemed to
recollect them as having been unworthy of his
dignity. He reassumed his arrogant and careless

air, half whistled “Ca ira” and glanced at
the garden, with “a tall poplar, that. How old?”

Not very old, for I planted it.

Very likely. Just such another giddy head
and slender body as the planter's.—But now I
think of it, Jane, since your money is idle,
suppose you lend me five hundred dollars of it
till to-morrow. Upon my honor, I'll repay it
then. My calls just now are particularly
urgent. See here, I have brought a check ready
filled. It only wants your signature.

I felt instant and invincible repugnance to
this request. I had so long regarded my
brother as void of all discretion, and as habitually
misapplying money to vicious purposes,
that I deemed it a crime of no inconsiderable
degree, to supply the means of his prodigality.
Occasions were daily occurring in which
much good was effected by a few dollars, as
well as much evil produced by the want of
them. My imagination pondered on the evils
of poverty much oftener than perhaps was
useful, and had thence contracted a terror of it
not easily controuled. My legacy I had always
regarded as a sacred deposit; an asylum
in distress which nothing but the most egregious
folly would rob or dissipate. Yet now I
was called upon to transfer, by one stroke of
the pen, to one who appeared to me to be engaged
in ruinous vices or chimerical projects,
so large a portion as five hundred dollars.

I was no niggardly hoarder of the allowance
made me by my mother, but so diffident was I
of my own discernment, that I never laid out
twenty dollars without her knowledge and concurrence.

Could I then give away five hundred
of this sacred treasure, bestowed on me for
very different purposes, without her knowledge?
It was useless to acquaint her with my brother's
request, and solicit her permission. She would
never grant it.

My brother, observing me hesitate, said—
Come, Jane; make haste. Surely this is no
such mighty favour that you should stand a
moment. 'Twill be all the same to you, since
I return it to-morrow. May I perish, if I
don't.

I still declined the offered pen—For what
purpose, brother, surely I may ask? so large a
sum.

He laughed; a mere trifle, girl. 'Tis a bare
nothing; but much or little, you shall have it
again, I tell you, to-morrow. Come; time flies.
Take the pen, I say, and make no more words
about the matter.

Impossible! till I know the purpose. Do
not urge me to a wrong thing.

His face reddened with indignation. A wrong
thing! you are fool enough to tire the patience
of a saint. What do I ask, but the loan of a
few dollars, for a single day? Money that is
absolutely idle; for which you have no use.
You know that my father's property is mine;
that my possessions are twenty times greater
than your own: yet you refuse to lend this
paltry sum for one day. Come, Jane, sister;
you have carried your infatuation far enough.
Where a raw girl should gain all these scruples
and punctilios I can't imagine. Pray, what is
your objection?

In these contests with my brother, I was
never mistress of my thoughts. His boisterous,
negligent, contemptuous manners, awed, irritated,
embarrassed me. To say any thing which
implied censure of his morals or his prudence,
would be only raising a storm which my
womanish spirit could not withstand. In answer
to his expostulations, I only repeated—impossible!
I cannot.

Finding me inflexible, he once more gave
way to indignation—What a damn'd oaf! to be
thus creeping and cringing to an idiot; a child;
an ape. Nothing but necessity, cruel necessity
would have put me on this task. Then turning
to me, he said in a tone half supplicating; half
threatening; let me ask you once more; will you
sign this check? Do not answer hastily: for
much, very much depends on it. By all that
is sacred I will return it to you to-morrow. Do
it, and save me and your father from infamy;
from ruin; from a prison; from death. He may
have cowardice enough to live and endure his
infamy, but I have spirit enough to die and
escape it.

This was uttered with an impetuosity that
startled me. The words ruin, prison, death,
rung in my ears, and almost out of breath, I exclaimed—what
do you mean? my father go to
prison? my father ruined? what do you mean?

I mean what I say. Your signing this check
may save me from irretrievable ruin. This trifling
supply, which I can no where else procure, if
it comes to night, may place us out of danger.
If delayed till to-morrow morning, there will
be no remedy. I shall receive an adequate sum

to-morrow afternoon, and with that I will replace
this.

My father ruined! In danger of a goal!
Good Heaven! Let me fly to him. Let me
know from himself the full extent of the evil—
I left my seat with this purpose, but he stopped
me. Are you mad, girl? He does not know
the full extent of the evil. Indeed the evil
will be perfectly removed by this trifling loan.
He need not know it.

Ah! my poor father, said I, I see thy ruin,
indeed. Too fatally secure hast thou been;
too doating in thy confidence in others. These
words half articulated, did not escape my
brother. He was, at once, astonished and enraged
by them, and even in these circumstances
could not suppress his resentment.

He had, however, conjured up a spirit in me
which made me deaf to his invective. I made
towards the door.

Where are you going? You shall not leave
the room till you have signed this paper.

Nothing but force shall keep me from my
father. I will know his true situation, this instant
from his own lips. Let me go. I will go.

I attempted to rush by him, but he shut the
door and swore I should not leave the room till I
had complied with his request.

Perceiving me thoroughly in earnest, and
indignant in my turn at his treatment, he attempted
to soothe me, by saying, that I had
misunderstood him in relation to my father;
that he had uttered words at random; that he
was really out of cash at this moment: I should
inexpressibly oblige him by lending him this
trifling sum to-morrow evening.

Brother, I will deal candidly with you. You
think me childish, ignorant and giddy. Perhaps,
I am so, but I have sense enough to resolve,
and firmness enough to adhere to my resolution,
never to give money without thoroughly
knowing and fully approving of the purposes
to which it is to be applied. You tell me, you
are in extreme want of an immediate supply. Of
what nature is your necessity? What has occasioned
your necessity? I will not withhold, what
will really do you good; what I am thoroughly
convinced will do you good, but I must first be
convinced.

What, would you have more than my word?
I tell you it will save your—I tell you it will
serve me essentially. It is surely, needless to
enter into long and intricate details, which, ten
to one, you will not understand.

As you please, said I. I have told you that I
will not act in the dark.

Well then, I will explain my situation to you
as clearly as possible.

He then proceeded to state transactions of
which I understood nothing. All was specious
and plausible, but I easily perceived the advantages
under which he spoke, and the gross folly
of suffering my conduct to be influenced by representations,
of whose integrity I had no
means of judging.

I will not detain you longer by this conversation.
Suffice it to say, that I positively refused
to comply with his wishes. The altercation that
ensued was fortunately interrupted by the entrance
of two or three visitants, and after

lingering a few minutes, he left the house
gloomy and dissatisfied.

I have gone into these incidents with a
minuteness that I fear has tired you; but I
will be more concise for the future. These incidents
are chiefly introductory to others of a
more affecting nature, and to those I must now
hasten. Meanwhile I will give some little
respite to my fingers.