 | THE WIDOW. Bracebridge Hall, or, The humorists |  |
THE WIDOW.
She would weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled;
Of small houndes had she, that she fed,
With rost flesh, milke and wastel bread,
But sore wept she, if any of them were dead,
Or if men smote them with a yard smart.
Chaucer.
I AM much better pleased with Lady Lillycraft
than I fancied I should have been. Notwithstanding
the little parade of her arrival, she
has none of the petty stateliness that I imagined;
but, on the contrary, she has a degree of naïveté
and simpleheartedness, if I may use the phrase,
that mingles well with her old fashioned manners
and harmless ostentation. She dresses in
rich silks, with long waist; she rouges considerably,
and her hair, which is nearly white, is frizzed
out, and put up with pins. Her face is pitted
features shows that she once may have been
beautiful, and she has a very fair and well proportioned
hand and arm, of which, if I mistake
not, the good lady is still a little vain. I have had
the curiosity to gather a few particulars concerning
her. She was a great belle in town, between
thirty and forty years since, and reigned for two
seasons with all the insolence of beauty; refusing
several excellent offers, when she was unfortunately
robbed of her charms and her lovers
by an attack of the small pox. She retired immediately
into the country; where she some
time after inherited an estate, and married a
Baronet, a former admirer, whose passion had
suddenly revived; “having,” as he said, “always
loved her mind rather than her person.”
The Baronet did not enjoy her mind and fortune
above six months, and had scarcely grown
very tired of her, when he broke his neck in a
fox chase, and left her free, rich, and disconsolate.
She has remained on her estate in the
country ever since, and has never shown any
her early triumphs and fatal malady. All her
favourite recollections, however, revert to that
short period of her youthful beauty.
She has no idea of town, but as it was at that
time, and continually forgets that the place and
people must have changed materially in half a
century. She will often speak of the toasts of
those days, as if still reigning; and until very
recently, used to talk with delight of the royal
family, and the beauty of the young princes and
princesses. She cannot be brought to think of
the present king, other than as an elegant young
man, rather wild; but who danced a minuet divinely:
and, before he came to the crown,
would often mention him as the “sweet young
prince.”
She talks of the walks in Kensington gardens,
where the gentlemen appeared in gold-lace
coats and cocked hats, and the ladies in
hoops, and swept so proudly along the grassy
avenues; and she thinks the ladies let themselves
sadly down in their dignity, when they gave up
She has much to say too of the officers who
were in the train of her admirers; and speaks
familiarly of many wild young blades, that are
now perhaps hobbling about watering places
with crutches and gouty shoes.
Whether the taste the good lady had of matrimony
discouraged her or not I cannot say,
but, though her merits and her riches have attracted
many suitors, she has never been tempted
to venture again into the happy state. This is
singular too, for she seems to have a most soft
and susceptible heart; is always talking of love
and connubial felicity, and is a great stickler for
old fashioned gallantry; devoted attentions and
eternal constancy on the part of the gentlemen.
She lives after her own taste. Her house, I
am told, must have been built and furnished
about the time of Sir Charles Grandison. Every
thing about it is somewhat formal and stately;
but has been softened down into a degree of voluptuousness,
characteristic of an old lady very
tender hearted and romantic, and that loves her
wide sofas almost bury you when you sit down
on them. Flowers of the most rare and delicate
kind are stood about the room on little japanned
stands, and sweet bays lie about the tables
and mantle pieces. The house is full of pet
dogs, Angola cats, and singing birds, who are
as carefully waited upon as she is herself.
She is dainty in her living, and a little of an
epicure, living on white meats, and little ladylike
dishes; though her servants have substantial
old English fare, as their looks bear witness.
Indeed, they are so indulged that they
are all spoiled, and when they lose their present
places they will be fit for no other. Her ladyship
is one of those easy tempered beings that
are always doomed to be much liked and ill
served by their domestics, and cheated by all
the world.
Much of her time is passed in reading novels,
of which she has a most extensive library, and
has a constant supply from the publishers in town.
Her erudition in this line of literature is immense;
Her mind is stuffed with love tales of all
kinds, from the stately amours of the old books of
chivalry down to the last blue covered romance
reeking from the printers: though she evidently
gives the preference to those that came out in
the days of her youth, when she was first in love.
She maintains that there are no novels written
now-a-days equal to Pamela, and Sir Charles
Grandison; and she places the Castle of Otranto
at the head of all the romances.
She does a vast deal of good in her neighbourhood,
and is imposed on by every beggar in the
country. She is the benefactress of a village
adjoining her estate; and takes an especial interest
in all its love affairs. She knows of every
courtship that is going on; every love-lorn damsel
is sure to find a patient listener and a sage
adviser in her ladyship. She takes great pains
to reconcile all love quarrels; and should any
faithless swain persist in his inconstancy, he is
sure to draw on himself the good lady's violent
indignation.
I have learned these particulars partly from
Frank Bracebridge, and partly from Master Simon.
I am now able to account for the assiduous
attention of the latter to her ladyship. Her
house is one of his favourite resorts, where he is
a very important personage. He makes her a
visit of business once a year, when he looks into
all her affairs, which, as she is no manager, are
apt to get into confusion. He examines the
books of the overseer, and shoots about the estate,
which he says is well stocked with game,
notwithstanding that it is poached by all the vagabonds
in the neighbourhood.
It is thought, as I before hinted, that the captain
will inherit the greater part of her property,
having always been her chief favourite; for in
fact she is partial to a red coat. She has now
come to the Hall to be present at his nuptials,
having a great disposition to interest herself in
all matters of love and matrimony.
| THE WIDOW. Bracebridge Hall, or, The humorists | |