University of Virginia Library

LETTER XVIII.
SARAH TO ANNE.

TWO small rooms, up two pair of stairs, at a
Stay-Makers in Greek-street, Soho, with a privilege
of cooking our dinner in the kitchen, belonging
to the family, is become the residence
of your friend. I have no servant; Darnley
cannot afford to keep one; and I think you
would laugh, could you take a peep at me in a
morning, and see me bustling about, getting
breakfast, sweeping the rooms, &c. &c. I am
awkward enough, Heaven knows; and as to
cooking, I make but a poor hand at it indeed.
Darnley, who loves good eating as well as any
man I know, fumes and frets; well, he really
has cause—but I intend to try my best, and
learn all the profound mysteries of roasting,
boiling, stewing, frying and broiling; then the
compounding of puddings, pies, and rich sauces.
I beg your pardon; I forgot we shall have but
little to cook, and, therefore, a very slight degree
of knowledge in the culinary art, will
suffice.

Now, my dear Anne, do not think it an affectation
of fortitude, for it is not so; but I do assure
you, if it was only for myself, I could be as
happy in these small apartments, and even with
our confined income, as ever I was in my life.
I am not debarred the use of my pencil, or pen.

To be sure, I miss my piano, but I have my guitar,
which, together with my watch, half a dozen
chairs, a small carpet, a bed and furniture, were
sent to my lodgings by one of Darnley's creditors,
the morning after he was set at liberty. I say,
if it was only myself: but Darnley is so mortified
if any of his acquaintance call in, (for we are
feelingly convinced that the word friendship, is
not to be found in a fashionable vocabulary.) I
am not mortified when these flutterers, from motives
of curiosity, or any other as powerful, come
in to stare, sneer, and take an inventory of our
poor furniture; I feel so independent of them,
and am so indifferent about their opinions, that
I care not what they think or say. There are
not more than five persons in the world, whose
good or bad opinion is of the smallest consequence
to my peace of mind, but of those few, I
am tenaciously proud; a word, a look of approbation
from one of whose judgment and sincerity
one can have no doubt, is more soothing to
the mind, more gratifying to one's self-love, than
the most labored panegyric from those accustomed
to praise indiscriminately, without being
able to assign a reason for so doing.

But, my friend, though I feel inclined to make
the best of my situation, there is one very important
circumstance, which renders it impossible to
be entirely easy. I could be content with a little,
but how is that little to be obtained? Some
method must be struck out; for, besides that, I
think it the height of dishonesty to be running in

debt, when there are no probable means of discharging
those debts; and Darnley never sits
down to meat, without reckoning how much it
costs, and how soon our slender finances will be
exhausted; yet he cannot restrain himself from
his nightly visits to the tavern, and from thence,
often to the theatre. As to visitors, I am resolved
not to encourage any, by persevering in
the resolution of not returning any visits that
may be paid me; though I imagine I need not
trouble myself on that score, as we have no longer
the means of offering them the sumptuous
dinner, or nightly revel. When I reflect on the
short period that has elapsed since my marriage,
I cannot help considering it as a harassing, disturbed
dream, from which I would gladly
awake. Would to Heaven that I could do so;
but no! the feverish slumber must continue,
and I must be hurried from one scene of terror
to another without cessation, until the torpor of
death seals up each active sense.

I was interrupted just as I finished the last
sentence, and who do you think it was interrupted
me? my aunt Vernon. “Mrs. Darnley,”
said she, “I am extremely sorry to see you in
such apartments, and I am come to endeavor to
persuade you to separate yourself from Mr.
Darnley.” “Then pray, madam,” said I, gravely,
“spare yourself the trouble, for it would be to no
purpose.” `You are very positive, Sarah,' said she,
“one would think you could have no great predilection
for a man who has used you so ill, has

run through all his property, and made himself
a beggar.” “I had very little predeliction for
him, madam,” I replied, “when in compliance
with your advice, and that of my other friends, I
married him; he was affluent then. If I bound
myself by a sacred oath at that time, contrary to
my own better judgment, to share his fortunes,
be they better or worse, I will not now, in opposition
to my sense of duty, forsake him in the
hour of humiliation.” “But the world says he
prefers other women to you.” “The world is
officiously meddling.” “Well, you ever was so
self-opinionated, so head-strong, Sarah!” “Had
I been properly so, on a certain occasion, aunt,
you would not have been under the necessity of
making that remark now. But setting that
aside, suppose I was willing to separate myself
from Mr. Darnley, how am I to exist in this
state of separation? What can I do? Who will
employ me? What friends have I, to countenance
and protect me?”

The reflection was so cutting, my dear Anne,
that I could not restrain my tears, and to my
great mortification, before I had dried them, Mr.
Darnley entered the room. “What, telling over
all your grievances, Sarah?” said he, with a sneer.
“No, she is not,” replied Mrs. Vernon, “she is
offended because I have been advising her, as
your affairs are so embarrassed, to try to do
something for herself, and for you to get some
employment; and in short, for you to live apart.”
“I think your advice very good, madam,” said

Darnley, with the utmost indifference. “I believe
I could get into a counting-house; but merchants
do not like to employ married men, lest
their expenses exceeding their income, might
tempt them to be dishonest.” “I beg, Mr.
Darnley,” said I, “that I may be no hindrance
to your getting employment; I am willing to
provide for myself if any means can be pointed
out; but while I do nothing to forfeit the title of
your wife, to you I must, and will look for protection;
as for the rest, I will relieve you from
the trouble of providing for my necessities. I thank
you, madam,” turning to my aunt, “for having
pointed out a plan which I own I never should have
thought of adopting; but I perceive you are
better acquainted with Mr. Darnley's disposition
that I am.” Mrs. Vernon was disconcerted,
she took her leave in a few moments after; and
then Darnley, by way of apology, began talking
of the expenses of house-keeping, and how cheap
a single man could live, &c. &c. And will you
believe it, pleaded affection to me as the motive
which led him to wish a separation, as he could
not bear to see me employed in the servile duties
of a family. I had no patience to hear him.
Love me! No—he does not, and I am convinced
never did! I shall look round and try to find employment
of some kind; when I have, you shall
again hear from