University of Virginia Library

LETTER VII.
ANNE TO ELENOR.

YOU perceive by the letter I enclosed in my
last, that my young friend's situation was not
entirely congenial to her feelings, though she
would not complain. She says she is proud; it
is true, she is so, but it is that kind of proper
pride, which is the safeguard of female virtue.
I heard from an acquaintance, who was at Bath
at the period she was there, that she was an object
of admiration, ill nature and envy. This
you will say is a strange assertion, yet it was
actually so. The simplicity and frankness of
her manner, the brilliancy of her understanding,
and high cultivation of her talents, made her
society courted by the men, and rendered her an
object of general dislike to the women, for it is a
humiliating circumstance to confess, that beauty,
wit and talents, are by no means possessions to
secure a friend in our own sex. Why is this?
Why do women suffer that degrading quality
envy, to predominate in their bosoms? Men
naturally esteem those who are most worthy
esteem; to be brave, generous, learned, magnanimous,
will gain a man the respect, the
veneration of all; his society is courted, his
friendship thought an honor, even though his
person should not be a perfect model of the Apollo

Belvidere. But no, I beg your pardon, I recollect
a celebrated wit and satiric modern poet,
avers that,

And here is no particular sex aimed at, it is
then the wicked, the weak and the vain of both,
who envy merits they strive not themselves to
acquire. But I am running from my subject.

Sarah, so far from being flattered by the attentions
of the men, was, as she herself forcibly
expresses it, humbled; the situation of her mind,
together with the irregular hours Mrs. Beaumont
kept, rendered the medicinal virtues of the
Bath waters of no effect. You may ask perhaps
why did she not decline parties so prejudicial to
her health? She did on her first entering the
family make an effort to that purpose; but Mrs.
Beaumont, who thought society necessary to
amend the spirits of her young companion, pressed
so earnestly, that there was no opposing her
desires without rudeness, and let her have been
up ever so late at night, she always rose in time
to attend the young ladies at their lessons. In
March they returned to London. But I was
shocked at the appearance of Sarah; every bad
symptom was evidently increased, and I was
assured by a physician whom I had requested to
call as by accident to see her, nothing but quiet
and regular living would have any chance of restoring

her. Mrs. Beaumont was unwilling to
part with her, said she should not be plagued
with the children, she would send them to school.
Sarah smiled. The dear children, madam, said
she, are my comforts; I could not have remained
with you so long, had not my heart been strongly
drawn towards those interesting young ladies.
I am honored by your friendship, venerate and
respect your virtues, am grateful for the many
favors you have conferred on me; but neither
my health, spirits, nor situation in life, render it
proper for me to be continually mixing in scenes
to which your rank make you familiar, and of
which you are an ornament. And this fine flattering
speech, replied Mrs. Beaumont, is to gild
over the positive rejection of my proposal, and
let me know as politely as possible, you are determined
to leave me; well, I must submit, only
belive me, should you ever want a friend, you
will be sure to find one in me. When Sarah left
this amiable woman, she presented her with an
elegant pocket book, which on opening, was
found to contain a note of fifty guineas, together
with a most affectionate letter, recommending
her to a widow lady, who resided at Islington,
who would be glad to take her as a boarder, where
she might enjoy pure air, quiet, and the exercise
of walking, whenever she felt inclined, in a large
garden. I should have insisted on her going with
me on some tour of pleasure, but business of an
important nature obliged me to visit Paris, and
the speed with which I was obliged to travel, as
well as the length of the journey, made it impossible
she should accompany me thither. The
evening before my departure, I passed a few hours
with her at her new habitation, and discovered
that the old lady with whom she had taken up
her abode, was a distant relation of the Darnley
family. This was an unpleasant circumstance to
Sarah, but she was every way else so comfortably
accommodated, and reflecting wherever she
was, Mrs. Darnley would claim a sight of visiting
her, she made no attempt to remove. Whilst I
was sitting with her, we were greatly surprised
by the entrance of Frederic Lewis, who had
returned unexpectedly from a cruise, and I left
her in better spirits, than I otherwise should,
from the idea that she had in him a proper and
affectionate protector. His ship was coming up
to Deptford, to undergo a thorough repair; he
would therefore be enabled to visit her every
two or three days, and would, I was certain, in
case of increasing ill health, suffer her to want
neither medical, nor other assistance, which he
had the power of procuring for her. She had a
prospect,should she be restored to health,of being
placed in a family of rank, as governess to the
children, and to reside entirely with them, at
the family seat in Merionethshire. I remained
on the continent six months, and added to the
satisfaction of having completed the business
for which I took the journey the felicity of
forming an acquaintance with you, dear madam,
an acquaintance which time has ripened into a
tender esteem, and has laid the foundation of a
friendly intercourse, which I flatter myself is
equally pleasurable to both.

I received several letters from Sarah, during
my residence abroad; the last I received previous
to my leaving Paris shocked me by announcing
her marriage with George Darnley. I
enclose the letter,[1] as it will best inform you of
her motives, her prospects, her feelings and
anxieties, at this eventful period.