The Life and Legacy of Harriette Wilson. Harriette Wilson
are come to scold me for sending my old nurse to console the general?" said I, when I entered the room where she was waiting.
"Not at all, my dear, wild young lady," answered Mrs. Porter; "but I am now come to inform you that you have made the conquest of a very fine, noble, unexceptionable man."
"Delightful," said I. "Who is he?"
"I dare not tell you his name," interrupted Mrs. Porter, "but you may rest assured that he is a man of fashion and rank."
"It will not do!" reiterated I, striking my head. "Tell your friend that I have no money, that I do not know how to take care of myself, and Argyle takes no care of me. Tell him that nobody wants a real steady friend more than I do; but I cannot meet a stranger as a lover. Tell him all this, if he is really handsome that is to say (for the stranger I had twice met riding down Sloane Street, accompanied by his large dog, had lately run often in my head), and let me know what he says to-morrow."
Mrs. Porter acquiesced, and hearing a loud rap at my door, she hastily took her leave.
This was Fanny. At his own earnest request, she had brought me the son of the rich Freeling, secretary to the General Post Office; saying, "Mr. Freeling will allow me no rest, till I have made him known to you."
The young man was civil and humble, and kept a proper distance; and was rather a bore. In point of fact, at least in my humble opinion, there is no endurable medium between men of the very highest fashion and honest tradesmen, to those who have once acquired a taste and habit of living with any high-bred people. Young Freeling was a gentleman, as far as grammar and eating with his fork went; and Fanny proposed our going to Covent Garden together that evening. She wanted to show little Fanny, for by that appellation we distinguished her eldest daughter, the Harlequin farce, before she returned to school.
"What is the play?" said I.
"Julius Cæsar," answered Freeling.
I was pleased beyond measure at the idea of seeing this play.
I had been at but three plays in my life, all comedies. I shall never forget the delight I experienced in witnessing that fine scene between Brutus and Cassius where they quarrel, performed by John Kemble and Charles Young! Were I to live to the age of a hundred I should not forget John Kemble's energetic delivery of those beautiful lines, so finely expressive of virtuous indignation, so rich in eloquence, in force and in nerve. In short I, like Mark Antony, being no scholar, can only speak right on, and know not how to praise the poet as he merits. Yet few perhaps among the most learned have, in their hearts, done more honour to some of the natural beauties of Shakespeare than I have. I just now alluded to this passage,
What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers; shall we now,
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes?
And sell the mighty share of our large honours,
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus?
Neither was Young's excellent performance of Cassius lost upon me. The feeling manner in which he expressed these lines brought more tears into my eyes than any love scene, however pathetic, could have done:
I that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for, I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.
I am not sitting down here to write a book of quotations; but I could not help offering my mite of praise to the memory of that great actor whose likeness I shall never behold again on earth: and such was the impression Kemble made on me, that methinks I hear his accent in my ear, and the very tone of that voice, which made my heart thrill so long ago, while he was thus taking leave of Cassius:
And whether we shall meet again I know not;
Therefore our everlasting farewell take.
For ever, and for ever, farewell Cassius!
If we do meet again, why we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made.
I begged to be excused remaining to see the Harlequin farce, as it would have been impossible for me to have witnessed such an exhibition after Julius Cæsar, and I was allowed to drive home alone, for I insisted on not robbing Fanny of the protection of our worthy general postman.
The next morning I received another visit from Mrs. Porter, who informed me that she had just had an interview with my new lover and had reported to him all I had desired her to say.
"Since you object to meet a stranger," continued Mrs. Porter, "his grace desires me to say, he hopes you can keep a secret, and to inform you, that it is the Duke of Wellington who so anxiously desires to make your acquaintance."
"I have heard of his grace often," said I, in a tone of deep disappointment: for I had been indulging a kind of hope about the stranger with the great Newfoundland dog, with whose appearance I had been so unusually struck as to have sought for him every day, and I thought of him every hour.
"His grace," Mrs. Porter proceeded, "only entreats to be allowed to make your acquaintance. His situation, you know, prevents the possibility of his getting regularly introduced to you."
"It will never do," said I, shaking my head.
"Be assured," said Mrs. Porter, "he is a remarkably fine-looking man, and, if you are afraid of my house, promise to receive him in your own, at any hour when he may be certain to find you alone."
"Well," thought I, with a sigh; "I suppose he must come. I do not understand economy, and am frightened to death at debts. Argyle is going to Scotland; and I shall want a steady sort of friend of some kind, in case a bailiff should get hold of me."
"What shall I say to his grace?" Mrs. Porter inquired, growing impatient.
"Well, then," said I, "since it must be so, tell his grace that I will receive him to-morrow at three; but mind, only as a common acquaintance!"
Away winged Wellington's Mercury, as an old woman wings it at sixty, and most punctual to my appointment, at three on the following day, Wellington made his appearance. He bowed first, then said:
"How do you do?" Then thanked me for having given him permission to call on me; and then wanted to take hold of my hand.
"Really," said I, withdrawing my hand, "for such a renowned hero, you have very little to say for yourself."
"Beautiful creature!" uttered Wellington, "where is Lorne?"
"Good gracious!" said I, out of all patience at his stupidity; "what come you here for, duke?"
"Beautiful eye, yours!" explained Wellington.
"Aye man! they are greater conquerors than ever Wellington shall be; but, to be serious, I understood you came here to try to make yourself agreeable?"
"What child! do you think that I have nothing better to do than to make speeches to please ladies?" said Wellington.
"Après avoir dépeuplé la terre vous devez faire tout pour la repeupler," I replied.
"You should see me where I shine," Wellington observed, laughing.
"Where's that, in Gods name?"
"In a field of battle," answered the hero.
"Battez vous, donc, et qu'un autre me fasse la cour!" said I.
But love scenes, or even love quarrels, seldom tend to amuse the reader, so, to be brief, what was a mere man, even though it were the handsome Duke of Argyle, to a Wellington!
Argyle grew jealous of Wellington's frequent visits, and hiding himself in his native woods wrote me the following very pathetic letter.
"I am not quite sure whether I do, or do not love you—I am afraid I did too much;—but, as long as you find