The Ladies": A Shining Constellation of Wit and Beauty Part 1

The Ladies.

by E. Barrington.

Preface

The aim of these stories is not historical exact.i.tude nor unbending accuracy in dates or juxtaposition. They are rather an attempt to re-create the personalities of a succession of charming women, ranging from Elizabeth Pepys, wife of the Diarist, to f.a.n.n.y Burney and her experiences at the Court of Queen Charlotte. As I have imagined them, so I have set them forth, and if what is written can at all revive their perished grace and the unfading delight of days that now belong to the ages, and to men no more, I shall not have failed. Much is imagination, more is truth, but which is which I scarcely can tell myself. I have wished to set them in other circ.u.mstances than those we know.

What would Elizabeth Pepys have felt if she had read the secrets of the Diary? If Stella and Vanessa had met--Ah, that is a tenderness and terror almost beyond all thinking! How would my Lady Mary's smarting pride have blistered herself and others if the Fleet marriage of her eccentric son-- whose wife she never saw--had actually come between the wind and her n.o.bility? Was there no finer, more ethereal touch in Elizabeth Gunning's stolen marriage with her Duke than is recorded in Horace Walpole's malicious gossip? Could such beauty have been utterly sordid? What were the fears and hopes of the lovely Maria Walpole as, after long concealment of her marriage, she trembled on the steps of a throne? How did those about her judge of f.a.n.n.y Burney in the Digby affair? Did she wholly conceal her heart? From her Diary we know what she wished to feel--very certainly not entirely what she felt.

Perhaps of all these women we know best that Elizabeth who never lived-- Elizabeth Bennet. She is the most real because her inner being is laid open to us by her great creator. I have not dared to touch her save as a shadow picture in the background of the quiet English country-life which now is gone for ever. But her fragrance--stimulating rather than sweet, like lavender and rosemary--could not be forgotten in any picture of the late eighteenth or early nineteenth centuries and among the women whom all the world remembers. They, one and all, can only move in dreamland now.

Their lives are but stories in a printed book, and a heroine of Jane Austen's is as real as Stella or the fair Walpole. So I apologise for nothing. I have dreamed. I may hope that others will dream with me.

E. BARRINGTON

Elizabeth Pepys

1640-1669

"So home to dinner with my wife, very pleasant and pleased with one another's company, and in our general enjoyment one of another, better we think than most other couples do."

Elizabeth St. Michel, daughter of a French Huguenot, was fifteen when Pepys married her. She was only twenty-nine when she died. Pepys himself at their marriage was twenty-two. It is the skirmis.h.i.+ng of young folk that he describes when he reports such animated scenes as the occasion when his wife threatened him with the red-hot tongs. They had their brisk encounters and their affectionate interludes as well, when "very merry we were with our pasty, well-baked, and a good dish of roasted chickens; pease, lobsters, strawberries."

In odd moments, Pepys applied himself to his wife's education. Dismissing her dancing-master by reason of jealousy, he began instead a course in Arithmetic. He himself taught her Addition, Subtraction, and the Multiplication Tables; but, says he, "I purpose not to trouble her yet with Division, but to begin with the Globes to her now."

At her early death he mourned sincerely, and erected a memorial celebrating the accomplished charms of Elizabeth, his wife,--

"Forma, Artibus, Linguis Cultissima."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs Pepys as St. Katharine]

I

The Diurnal of Mrs. Elizabeth Pepys

2d _May_.--Sam'l now in great honour at the Navy Office, whereat my heart do rejoice, and the less for the havings, which do daily increase, than that I would willingly see him wors.h.i.+pfully received, the which indeede his hard work do plentifully deserve, he sparing himselfe in nothing for the advancing of his busyness.

And I do reason with myselfe that though he have faults many and great (which G.o.d knowes is true) yet he do come up in the world and our gettings are very good and do daily increase. How they go I know not, for that little and grudging is spent on my clothes, and though Sam'l goes very n.o.ble still it is not possible but much is saved, though he do lament himself in very high wordes of our spendthrift way of life and small saving.

But of this more anon.

Up and dressed a pease pudding with boyled rabbets and bacon to dinner for want of a cook-mayde, Sarah leaving us at dawn, and he loving it mightily.

The which he should not have this day but that I have a month's mind to a slashte wastcote which hitherto he hath soured upon. This done, a brave dish of cream in the which he takes great delight; and so seeing him in Tune I to lament the ill wear of my velvet wastcote as desiring a Better, whereon he soured. We jangling mightily on this I did object his new Jackanapes coat with silver b.u.t.tons, but to no purpose. He reading in the Pa.s.sionate Pillgrim which he do of all things love. But angry to prayers and to Bed.

But it is observable that this day I discover Sam'l in the keeping of a Journal and very secret in this, and come at it I will, he being much abroad on his occasions the while I sit at home.

3d.--This day awakes Sam'l in a musty humour as much over-served with meat and Drink, and in great discontent calling me, do bid me rise and fetch his Pills that olde Mother Wigsworth did give him at Brampton. I merry and named him the Pa.s.sionate Pillgrim from his love to these, whereupon he flings the Pills in my face and all scattered, Deb grudging to gather them it being Lord's Day. So I to churche, leaving him singing and playing "Beauty, Retire" to his Viall, a song not worthy to be sung on a holy Day however he do conceit his skill therein. His brown beauty Mrs Lethulier in the pew against us and I do perceive her turn her Eye to see if Sam'l do come after. She very brave in hanging sleeves, yet an ill-lookt jade if one do but consider, but with the seeking Eye that men look to, and Sam'l in especial. Fried Loyne of mutton to dinner, and Sam'l his head akeing I did sit beside him discoursing of the new hangings for the small closet, wherein great pleasure for it will be most neat and fine. And great content have we in such discourse and in our house and the good we are come to.

4th.--This day do Sam'l speak handsomely enough of his humour yesterday, charging it upon the Rabbets, and so I left it. And strange it is how when he do so repent my heart do take part with him though I would better renounce him awhile to learn him manners. So he to the Exchange and buys me a piece of Paragon to a pettycote, and though it be not what I would have of my own choosing yet I do receive it with many goode words as hoping all will yet be as I desire. So to sup on a good dish of beef _a la mode_, and he well content, it appearing he have this day bestowed upon himself at the Exchange a good Theorbo, four Bookes, and a payre of Globes, talking very high how these be for my instruction rather than his own liking. The which I receive smyling, but do think--Lord! what fools men be that will have a woman so lightly deceived, fine wordes b.u.t.tering no parsnips. Sure they be but Children when all said and done, and their Innocency in this a pleasant thing to see.

Comes Mr Collins with his new Wife, a pretty well-shaped Woman with black hayre and Eyes, and she, much cried up for her skill on the Theorbo, do after play a Lesson upon it, but very ill, and pretty to see Sam'l that was hoping great things (loving musique) in pain and grief to hear her mean false playing and yet making fine wordes of it to please her, and they gone, do call her s.l.u.t and baggage and I know not what all. So to prayers and bed.

5th.--Sam'l this day reading over his vows not to drink strong waters or wines nor yet go to the play for two weekes. But I do ask myself (though not Sam'l) whether these vows be convenient. For I do surely think he do it only because it is the greater pleasure to drink and see the play, it being thus forbid. And in Saml' it is to be noted and methinks in other Men also that they do suck more pleasure from a thing forbidden and hard to come at than from the same thing when comely and convenient to be done in the sight of all. This day, he being with his Lords.h.i.+p, I to gain a sight of his Journal, he carelessly leaving it about, but took nothing by my pains, it being writ in secret writing, which do plainly show it to be what he would be shamed if known. Whereas mine owne is voide of all offence, and I do lay it under the smocks in the great armoire only because it is not seemly that Sam'l should know my thoughts, I having to deal with him as best I may.

_Mem_. To ask of Mrs Jemimah Crosby if her father, being a scrivener, knoweth and can instruct in secret writings.

Sam'l home late this day, and the supper, a calve's head, very good, with a n.o.ble Barell of oysters, he bringing with him Mr S. Lucy, and so supt very merry, and after in the garden, Sam'l to play on his flageolette, it being full moon. So to bed, omitting prayers. A pleasant day and content together.

6th.--This day, seeing Mrs Jemimah Crosby, I to ask her earnestly if her father the scrivener do teach the secret writing, and she replying that so it was, I after the mayde's cleaning the house, do forth and to his lodging behind Paternoster Row, he being a worthy olde Gentleman with a long white bearde, very reverend. I enjoining him to be secret, which he the more willingly promised that I have obliged him and Mrs Jem with codiniac and quince marmalett of my own making, do tell him how my father (which is unknown to him) have doc.u.ments and papers which he would willingly decipher but for his bad Eyes. Wherein G.o.d forgive me, for his eyes are the best Part of him. Olde Mr Crosby thereon urgent that my father entrust him with the worke, but I sticking at the expense, no more said. So I to show him a line of Dots and hooks which I did copy from Sam'l his Journal, and he reading it with ease, what should it prove to be but this:--

"Took occasion to fall out with my wife very highly about her ribbands being ill matcht and of two colours, and to very high words, so that I did call her Beaste."

So finding all as I thought and it being very needful that I should know Sam'l his thoughts (and indeed he is very simple to write them unless he think he have a fool to his wife) I do covenant with the olde Gentleman for Lessons which are dear enough, but to be paid from the housekeeping, and indeed the better that Sam'l should live plaine awhile in consideration of his ailing. So home in good time, and do find Sam'l and our she-cousin Scott very merry with capping of Epitaphs and sayings, wherein I also delighte. A very merry witty woman and harmlesse. Suppt on a Westfalia Ham and so with prayers content to bed.

7th.--This day Sam'l returning from the Office takes me to a fine collacion at Hamling's house, wherein the fine silver set forth upon the table do give us great pleasure, but I a little shamed because the ladies so brave, Mrs Hamling very Rich in an embroidered suit, and Mrs Pegg Penn in flowered sattin, which G.o.d knows she do not become, and heads set out with the new French frizzle. I very plain in my olde black silk new-laced all over with black silk gimp, Sam'l declaring I am very pretty in this, but I trust him not herein, he willing to save his Purse. One pa.s.sage of Sam'l kissing the little black beauty, Mrs Deakin, that he do call his Morena, displeased me, she being known for a frolicsome jade. He later singing, "Gaze not on Swans," and "Goe and be Hanged--that's Good-bye,"

all did applaud, and great mirth. It was observable that Captain Wade, kissing me on parting, did a little detain my Hand, and for this Sam'l did so betwit and becall me, returning in the Coach, that I pretended sleep, which did put him in a great discontent and so angry and without Prayers to bed. Yet sure this shows his good liking to me, and I think his heart sound, though he do Friske as I would he did not.

8th.--This day hear that my Lady Sandwich is Delivered of a young Lady and all well. Sam'l thinking (on some jest of my Lord's) to stand G.o.dfather and give the name--though how to call the Babe for him I see not--do at once provide silver Spoons and a Porringer. Which, seeing he is not yet bidden, doth I confesse, appear exceeding foolish and like a man that hath more silly pride than sense, the rather that I lack a French mantle that he hath promist but not performed. But I say nothing, according to the olde wise saw of Goody Gorum,--

Nothing say, But take your way.

He this day in his new Cote of the fas.h.i.+on and half cloth stockings going to give my Lord joy, do indeed seem very brave and n.o.ble, and hath a neat legg, and it pleases me to see him go as he should, for he is a personable man when well set out. And if he did but consider how it is to his honour that his Wife should go as fine as he I could the more rejoice therein, but it is not so, and great dishonour it is to him to consider how this quarter he hath spent fifty pounds on his clothes and but twelve on me, a thing not fit to be said of him. But I wait my time.

10th.--This day Sam'l refuses me the French mantle as beyond his Purse, but offers a payre of gloves--I refusing this. Slipt out for Lesson, olde Mr Crosby being a worthy and patient teacher, but it is a science very hard to be come at, and I weary enough in the learning of it, though indeed it be so needful. Still, some progress, and he saying merrily I would be at some mischief in this, with love Letters or such Toys, do make me to blush, so as I never did but when Sam'l was courting me. Yet no guilty deed, but what is very fitting for a woman. Was instant with the olde Gentleman that he should speake of my Lessons to none, the more so (I did say) that my father would not have these papers known to any, great matters hanging on it. Which indeed is true though not as he takes it.

So I home and with Sam'l to the Play, where my Lady Castlemaine, which indeed is a great Beauty, nor can I deny it, but sure it is not hard to be a beauty in Clothes and jewels that do dazzle the Eyes of all that Gaze upon her. But, Lord! to see how bold and unmannerly in staring upon strangers and the men on the stage, and in fine do not please me with her Freedoms. This Sam'l disputing very hotly after we had supt upon a Jowl of Salmon, I to speake my mind, asking if he would have his Wife casting oranges to the actors and blowing Kisses all about the house, and he not knowing what to answer, I do say, "Then prayse it not in others, for, if you will have me a bold s.l.u.t, no doubt but I will do my endeavours to please you," and so whiskte off, he sitting astonied. And strange how men will like in otheres what in their own Wives they love not but fear.

14th.--This day I by my Lady's desire to see the young Lady which is a fine Babe and like to do well. But no word of Sam'l to stand G.o.dfather, and Sir J. Minnes and Lrd Brouncker spoke of, which is no more than I thought, but will make Sam'l madd with his spoones. But no loss herein if it do make him more biddable in women's matters. Her La's.h.i.+p observing that my Lutestring suit is well worn and do me no credit, I did adventure to beseech her that she would break a word with Sam'l on his next waiting upon her that he would give me a Gown of Moyre which is now all the fas.h.i.+on, and this, with many good words she promist very lovingly, desiring that I would come in a weeks time to learn how she hath sped. So I home in good Tune as knowing he oweth his duty to my Lord and Lady and will be said by her. In comes fayre Mrs Margaret Wight to sup on a dish of Eggs and b.u.t.ter of Sparagus that Sam'l hath ate with my Lord Carlingford and do highly commend. And indeed it is rare meat. After, we dancing and very merry with Mrs Margaret, and she gone, I take occasion to tell Sam'l of the G.o.dfathers like to stand for the young Lady. Whereat he in a great Tosse, but I willing to smoothe all betwixt him and my Lady do tell him the honourable words she have spoke of him to myself and others, the more especially of his Velvet suit with scarlet ribands. The which pleasing him, we fall to discourse of what to do with the Spoons and Porringer, resolving the spoons do go to Betty Mich.e.l.l where certayne it is I do stand G.o.dmother, and the Porringer to Mrs Lane, whose name I know not but will come at shortly, and he do cry her up for a sober and G.o.d-fearing woman. So pleasantly to bed and good frends.

16th.--This day comes my new cook-Mayd, Jane Gentleman, and heaven send she prove worthy of her name, for I am drove almost madd with mayds that are not mayds but s.l.u.ts and know not diligence nor cleanliness, to their own undoing and mine. And strange it is to consider how in the olden days before my mother and Grandmother (who suffered great horroures from the like) the mayds were a peaceable and diligent folk, going about their busyness to the great content of all housewives. But now it is not so. And it is only two days sennight that I coming suddenly in did find Sarah with my new silk Hood upon her Frowsy head and Will discoursing with her and thrumming upon Sam'l his viallin. Whereat I did catch her a sound souse of the Ear, but she never a whit the better of it and answering me so sawcily that we parted on it, Sam'l upholding me in this, though it be hard enough to fill her place the wench being a good Cooke-mayde, though s.l.u.ttish.

20th.--Sam'l to visit my Lady, who receives him with great content and satisfaction, though she railed bitterly at my Lord that is so taken up with his pleasures and amus.e.m.e.nts that he goeth not to Court as he should, and she fears will be pa.s.sed over and forgot for others that keep more stir. Requiring Sam'l that he would deal plainly with my Lord on this, making known to him that his Reputacion do hereby decay. But this methinks is a difficult matter, and I do counsel Sam'l that he put not his finger between the Bark and the Tree, lest it come by a shrewd squeeze, but let rather my Lady deal with her Lord as a Wife should do. But he would not harken, whereby I foresee trouble.

He then, pulling out of his pocket a little Packett, do say pleasantly, "What, my Deare, shall you and I never go a-fairing again? What think you I have here? And how many Kisses will you bid me for a sight?"

Much merriment and pleasure from this, he holding it high, and I leaping for it like a Dogg. At the last he opens it, and lo a fine Lace of the new fas.h.i.+on for my bosom, and I do well perceive that my Lady hath been at him, and am well content I did break the matter to her, though an honest gown had been more to my Purpose. Yet well begun is half done. Though but half, as Sam'l shall find.

Our she-cousin Scott did visit me this day with sore complaints of her husband's humours and constant drizzling, which is more than a woman can or ought to bear. Therefore I should remember that with Sam'l it is not so, but a spurt or flame of anger when he will be very high with me, yet quickly snuft out and friends again. And generally, it is noticeable, with some little gift for peacemaking, so that I have more than once of set purpose Baited him to this end. Yet not often. Considering therefore the husbands I do know, I think Sam'l no worse a bargain than any and better than some, but shall be better a.s.sured in this when I shall come at his Journal. My seventh lesson today in the secret writing, and progress made, but it do make my head ake extremely and were it not needful would not continue on therein.

Comes this day my old Mayd Gosnell that Sam'l and I do call our Marmotte, she telling me that Jane my mayde is naught and she hath herself seen her abroade in light company. Yet cooking as she cooks Sam'l sticks on this and bids me wink my eyes and observe nothing, and such like are men!

21st.--This day Sam'l his feast for the recovery of his ailment which he do always solemnly keep with great store of meat and Drink and company.

And this is a great day with him and a troublous one with me, and to the Mayds also such as would madd a Saint. Yet all said and done a n.o.ble Dinner, enough and to spare, being a dish of Marrowbones, a legg of Mutton, a loin of Veal, a dish of fowl, being three Pullets and 24 Larks all in a great dish, a Tart, a neat's tongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of Prawns and cheese. His company seven men (Captain Fenner and both Sir Williams among them) and seven women and all reasonable merry. But I beseeching Sam'l privately to eat and Drink sparingly for the pain in his Toe, he do so becall me that it was ten to an Ace that I did hurle the Spit and the birds withal into the fire. Yet knowing he would pay dear next day, I said the less and so continued on, bidding him take his own way and pay for his liking. But indeed great company and the Dinner well cooked and served and they did drink my health on it. Also the house very handsome with Plate displayed and fires where the Company did sit. And the greatness of living we are come to did make Mrs Pierce's Mouth to water though she in her flowered Lutestring and liking well of it. So she green and yellow with spite as I did well perceive. Great Musique after, with "Great, good and just," and Sam'l at the top of his Tune, and so to cards and wine. Weary to bed, Sam'l starting up in the night with Nightmare not knowing what he did, and did so shreeke and cry that the Mayds in affright did run in, and the Watchmen pa.s.sing called to know was any poor Soul murthered within. But this no more than my Expectation, and so quietly to sleep.