University of Virginia Library

LETTER IV.

To Henry Colden.

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 permanent,
but my claim to it was merely through her voluntary
favor, 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 though I was sensible
that I held of my maternal friend but a very precarious

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, though
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 labor. With this persuasion, I frequently busied my
thoughts in imagining the most lucrative and decent means
of employing my ingenuity, and directed my inquiries to
many things of little or no use, but on the irksome supposition,
that I should one day live by my own labor. But this
is a digression.

In answer to my friend's remarks, I observed that my
father's property was much less considerable 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,
though 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 inquire
what speculation meant. I know only that it is some hazardous
or complicated way of getting money.

These hints, though 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, indispensably 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 nowise
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 counsel 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 positive
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 endeavored, 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
shown to be fallacious. 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 hestitate
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 parlor below.
Though 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 babythings. 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'ythee?

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 harbored 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 dependence, but still
there was a possibility of this. To insure 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 choose,

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 freak 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 tremors as well as I was able, and directed him
be to 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 favor—here he stopped.
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. Entreaty 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, he 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 resumed his arrogant
and careless air, half whistled "Caira" 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 tomorrow. 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 controled. 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 favor that you
should stand a moment. 'Twill be all the same to you,
since I return it tomorrow. 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; and 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 tomorrow. 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 tomorrow 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 sooth 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 till tomorrow 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 your 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.