LA BELLE ASSEMBLÉE; For NOVEMBER, 1811. A New Series. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES. The Twenty-Fifth Number. THE HONOURABLE LADY CATHARINE ANNESLEY. In reverting to last month's Number, our readers will see the parent stem from which this fair blossom has sprung forth, with early promise of as happy a maturity. The groupe, indeed, from which these two portraits were taken, is too rich a bouquet in the garden of taste to be permitted to pass without culling other beauties from its varied elegance; and we are convinced will enable us to present to the fashionable world some other stars as brilliant as any in our pourtrayed constellation of British excellence; doing as much credit to the pencil of Mr. Devis as they will prove embellishments to our work. another example of that important truth, important in a society where various gradations exist, that the highest rank is often the most strongly imbued with the humblest virtues. We feel it totally unnecessary to prompt her Ladyship to excellence, by the remembrance of the virtues of her ancestry, but as a part of our plan, hitherto invariably adhered to, we shall delineate their heraldic blazonry, and recal the original signification to our fair readers. The arms of Annesley then, are paly of six, azure and argent, over all a bend gules; by a reference to No. 13, it will be seen It is easier, however, for the pencil to that azure is allusive to beauty, sweetness delineate female elegance, than for the pen of disposition, nobleness of mind, and also to record female virtues. Features the to that loveliest attribute of Heaven, chamost regular, or the most varied, can alike rity; argent, by the same rule of delibe caught by the artist in an happy mo- neation, is illustrative of humility, purity, ment; whilst those beauties of the mind innocence, and truth; amongst flowers it which are the most interesting, are not was the lily, and it was also the symbol of always those which either obtrude them-chastity and of maiden reserve in the variselves on, or can well be exhibited, to pub-ous stages of female life; gules, indeed, is 'lic notice. Even in public life, the hap- a tint in blazonry of a more nasculine napiest and most virtuous periods of a counture, but in union with argent it repretry's annals are mere blanks in the pages sented boid with all honesty, and also two of the historian; what more then can we other virtues which even the most dignisay of the subject of our present biography, fied female reserve may find opportunities too young yet to have taken any part in of exercising in this age of scandalous the theatre of public life, but that she was tittle-tattle, that of being the vindicator born on the 18th July, 1790; acquired the of the innocent, and the scourge of the elegant and useful accomplishments both censorious. from taste and education; and now affords ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS. HYMENEA IN SEARCH OF A HUSBAND. Our readers are respectfully informed that this article will hereafter be written by the same person who commenced it, and wrote it till within the last few months. THE lady, whom I mentioned in my last, occupied my aunt's attention during the whole day. As she had the merit, however, of having no other singularity than that of being a domestic example in high life, I have nothing to say respecting her, but to hold her up as an example of the possible existence of the virtues of tenderness and domestic affections in the most elevated ranks of life. At breakfast on the following morning my aunt put a note into my hands, at the same time good-humouredly addressing me : || honour me. These nicknames are again coming into fashion, and as they are a kind of labels on bottles, or short denominations of character, I really think they are very convenient. For example,—it would take some time, you will allow, to describe my character in any detail, and therefore if any one wants to ask what kind of a being Lady Lovelace was, the person so interrogated might tire you before she could give you a suitable conception; but these nicknames express your characteristic in a moment, and therefore save the trouble of a great deal of tedious and indistinct conversation." || || "It is very true," replied I; "and if you have no objection to it I can have none. So to proceed." "I think, my love, you will be pleased with this invitation. Lady Bellamont usually passes the whole of the summer at her country seat on the banks of the Banna; and in order to make it pass pleasantly to herself and her friends, generally invites a large party, whom she brings from London with her, to remain with her for the whole season. This party may be said to consist of two kinds of people, who may not improperly be termed spectators and performers. The first kind are the friends of her Ladyship and family; the other are such of her acquaintance, and of those whom she has met at different parties in London, whom she and my Lord deem calculated to amuse themselves and friends in the solitude of a country summer. If she hears or sees, therefore, any one who is an original, whether in character or manners, she immediately associates them to her party; and thus collects a kind of museum for her entertainment. I hear that she has been very fortunate this season, and has as ample a set of originals as any humourist or comic writer would wish. But read her letter; read it out, Hymenæa, for I have only cursorily glanced it over." My dear Lady Hurry Scurry," "Now aunt," said I, interrupting the "Lady Hurry Scurry," said I," is that letter, "I can see enough of this Lady, your name?" "It is a nickname," replied my aunt, "with which her Ladyship is pleased to "My dear Lady Hurry Scurry,-I feel very much mortified that we have not seen your dear Ladyship at Craig Castle. Do come as soon as you receive and can read this. We have got a delightful party. My Lord has been very successful on his part in hunting up and bringing down some male originals, and I have been as lucky on my part in finding females to match them; so that we have a comedy every night. I am sure you will need no other inducement, when I inform you that we have Don Whiskerandos amongst us; and my Lord has sent expressly by the last packet to see if we cannot get his Sophia of Cadiz. Come then without delay, for a good play is nothing without a good audience. Come then, be sure to come, my dear Hurry Scurry, and let us reconcile ourselves to our own follies, and even become proud of them, by seeing the greater follies and more ridiculous absurdities of others." even from this brief letter, to put her in the same class of beings with yourself; I mean in the class of those, who abuse the || most excellent gifts of nature, cheerfulness | inconsistency. Does she not see the illand a quick mind and talents, to purposes nature of humbling others to exalt herself? of vanity and frivolity. Instead of laugh- And I will lay my life and honour on it, ing at these fools, as she says, in order to that though I have not the pleasure of enjoy herself in her own superiority,-that knowing this Lady, she herself, in her ocis to say, in plain words, to take delight in || casional absence, becomes the butt of her the infirmities of others, because they con- own performers; I have never known any duce to her own pride, would it not be one who took a pleasure in ridicule, but more reasonable, and certainly more good- who had it amply repaid them.” humoured, to endeavour to cure such as were not incurable, and to learn the moral lesson of avoiding similar follies from such as were too far gone to admit of remedy. What would you think of a person in good health, who should visit the sick wards of an hospital in order to obtain a better relish for his own health, and to enjoy their pangs with no other view but that they excited the reflected sentiment of his own ease?" "I will not answer you," said my aunt, till you have finished the letter. Read on and you will find something about yourself; you see her Ladyship is not ignorant of you; some of our visitors have made you known." I then proceeded with the letter as follows: "We have got, amongst other characters, a philosopher from the city of London who, in the midst of turtle and Lord Mayor's feasts, has no relish but for potatoes and water-cresses, and abstains from animal food from a principle of feeling and conscience in shedding animal blood. My Lord, and some of the other humourists with us, are endeavouring to invent some system of circumstances, which perforce may compel him to venture upon a beefsteak. There is no circumstance more pleasing in folly, my dear Lady, than that of seeing every fool taking a delight in exposing every other folly but his own. How does it happen, that you never find any blockhead who cannot be made with infinite ease sensible of the absurdities of another, and who will not join in a hearty laugh against his foolish brother." "It really grieves me, aunt," said I, "that this Lady should pervert an excellent understanding in exposing others rather than in amending herself. She very justly observes, that every one sees the same faults in others which they overlook in themselves. Now is she not herself an example of this "You are perfectly right as to Lady Bellamont," said my aunt; "she has taken up an idea, deduced I suppose from her favourite amusement of getting originals together, which has rendered herself as perfect an original as any of them. One of the painters, I forget his name, is said to have travelled over all Greece in search of beautiful features for a picture which he meditated of Venus; with a lip from one, an eye-brow from another, an eye from a third, and a chin from a fourth, he is said to have executed his purpose, and to have produced a form with which no individual could have alone supplied him. Lady Bellamont is endeavouring to put together a character for herself upon the same principle. She admires, for example, the gaiety of one, and the decent composure of another; she endeavours, therefore, to appropriate them both, and for that purpose has she thus mingled all kind of contradictions. One moment, having pre-determined to be gay and sprightly, she has scarcely entered upon that character before she remembers the grace and superior dignity of gravity, and therefore relapses into it without interval or preparation. You would think she was mad if you were with her; she is never a minute like to herself; no character in a comedy shifts so often and so absurdly." "And thus it ever will be,” said I, “with all artificial characters. Whatever a person may be, let them be themselves; I hate copyists whether on the stage or in life. The principle of character should be not to imitate what is pleasing in another, but to go to the source, and acquire the virtue from which it proceeds as from its natural root." "Well, read on, Hymenæa, there is a postscript, you will find." "Yes," replied I, resuming the letter; "here it is." "P. S. Pray, my dear Lady, is it true "Well then," said my aunt, "if you have no objection, we will go to-morrow." that your niece Hymenæa is such a tremendous oddity as Lord Babble represents her? He amused us all last night with "With all my heart," replied I. "I deem giving us a representation of her. He says it a duty not to desert the principles in that she is very handsome, and has a noble which I have been educated; and I hope I fortune, and that indeed she needs it all to have sense enough, and knowledge of the get her a husband, for that she is so formi-world enough, not to introduce them undably preaching, that if you break a tea-seasonably and impertinently. There is cup in her presence, you will have a ser mon on the sin of negligence. Pray bring her, and we will endeavour to humanize her; she must be far gone, indeed, if she can maintain her unfashionable barbarism against all the ridicule she will meet here. Be sure to bring her, for we want a new character. Sophia of Cadiz and lymena may amuse us for a month to come." "Now what do you say to this?" said my aunt, with a smile. "I say," replied I, "that I will most certainly accompany you, to teach these laughing gentry, that propriety, founded upon principle and on good education, is not so easily laughed out of countenance as you may imagine. Permit me, aunt, to mention an anecdote which a merry gentleman related in company, in my hearing, the other evening. Three gentlemen, of which the narrator was one were dining in a public Coffee-room; one of them was a flaunty young fellow, the other two grave, steady, country looking gentlemen. One of these grave gentlemen, it seems, had talked reasonably and sensibly, that is to say, what you term preached, in a manuer which the young one did not relish. When he rose and left the room, some one, in answer to a question from another, mentioned that he was a clergyman, somewhere from one of the remote counties.- A parson!' replied the young buck; Odd zounds, I wish I had known that, I should have made you some rare fun; you would have seen how I would have roasted him.' Roasted him!' repeated the other grave gentleman; pray, Sir, are you so dexterous at roasting a parson?'- Yes, Sir,' replied the other; it is my fort, and I wish I had the good luck to have a parson at hand, that I might prove my words.'‹ Well, Sir,' replied the other, gravely wiping his mouth with the corner of the tablecloth, you happen to be in very good uck, for I am a parson at your service." || || nothing in virtue, if you will permit me to use the word, or rather there is nothing in propriety, which can in any manner be made ridiculous or contemptible. It is the nature of ridicule that its substance lies only in improprieties, in some deviation and contradiction to that line of truth and nature, which the common sense of every one draws in their own fancy as suited to the condition of the subject and the circumstances. It is a want of good taste, and of good sense, when what is decent, right, and proper in itself, is rendered ridiculous by its unseasonable introduction. A methodist preacher, for example, bursts into the middle of the race-ground at our country races; that preacher is a fool-but in what manner does his folly affect the subject of his discourse? Piety and truth are not rendered ridiculous because a fool so absurdly introduces them. There is nothing, my dear aunt, against which people should so carefully guard as to confound what the reasoners call the adventitious and arbitrary circumstances of any I have thing with its genuine nature. heard my good father say, that this is the plentiful and original source of all the errors in the world. Virtue is despised because its externals are sometimes assumed by fools and knaves. The habit itself falls into contempt, because it has an unseemly appearance upon its awkward wearer. But the beauty, the grace, and good proportions of the vestment, are assuredly not in their wearers but in themselves." A servant now entering the room, announced the arrival of a morning visitor, Mr. Sunflower.-" We will attend him immediately," said my aunt. |