Engraved for La Belle Assemblée New Series No 5 Published June 1.1810, by J. Bell. Southampton Street, Strand. FOR MAY, 1810. A Pew Series. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF ILLUSTRIOUS LADIES, The Fifth Pumber. MRS. FITZHERBERT. THIS lady has filled so great a space in the fashionable world, and occupied the conversation of the public for so long a time, that a brief sketch of her cannot fail to be agreeable. If we lived in an age of rigid morality, it would perhaps be prudent to omit the mention of this lady altogether, but as too much is unfortunately conceded to fashion, and notoriety, however obtained, is more envied than censured, we shall make no apology for introducing her portrait into La Belle Assemblée. to have given us some fragments of the secret history of the Athenian and Spartan Courts, and to have thrown light upon those parts of domestic life which have often influenced great affairs in a way disproportionate to their seeming import ance. Mrs. Fitzherbert, from the best information we have been able to obtain, was married very young to an Irish gentleman of considerable fortune. She had been educated in the strictest principles of the Roman Catholic persuasion. Her union with her husband did not continue long: he died shortly after the marriage, leaving her a widow, but without any children. In the biography of the world of fashion those characters must be selected which have attracted attention, and drawn upon them the curiosity of every description of people. The choice is not to be made according to any metal estimate, but accord-side, to Sir Edward Smythe, of Acton ing to the scale of fashionable celebrity and preponderance in the bon ton. The sage biographer of Cheronea might with propriety have omitted in his inimitable lives the names of Aspasia, Thais, and Cleopatra; but Plutarch had no concep-d tion of the weight and importance of the beau morde in these latter ages of the world, otherwise he would not have failed The family of Mrs. Fitzherbert was respectable; she was niece, on her father's Burnel, in the county of Salop; and is distantly related to the noble family of Sefton, in Ireland. The sister of Mrs. Fitzherbert was married to Sir Carnaby Haggerstone, a Baronet of considerable respectability and fortune in the county of York. The intimacy between Mrs. Fitzherbert and a certain illustrious personage com. Eez menced early in the year 1786. When this connection was first made known, a rumour was circulated, and received from popular credulity a much greater share of credit than it deserved, that his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales was privately married to Mis. Fitzherbert. The public alarm upon this report was excessive. It was mentioned in Parliament, and questons were put, which not receiving the prompt answer that was expected from the friends of the Prince, the apprehension of the people was augmented, till it became necessary at length to give the report a formal denial, and some of the Parliamen as in her mental qualities. She seems to have cultivated the minor morals with great assiduity, and to have considered politeness as the science of fashionable life, and the principle of action amongst a certain rank of beings. She has lately taken under her tuition an orphan daughter of the late Lord Hugh Seymour, who lives with her, and is almost wholly formed under her eye. The origin of this attachment was in the friendship which had long subsisted betweon the mother of this young lady and Mrs. Fitzherbert; and it is certainly to the credit of Mrs. Fitzherbert, that the voice of a dying mother designat tary friends of his Royal Highness chal-ed her as the guardian and instructress of lenged an inquiry into his conduct, in order to ascertain the malignity of the source from whence the falsehood issued. This inquiry, however, was rendered unnecessary, by the flank declaration of the friends of the Prince, and the subject dropt into oblivion. her only daughter. A suit in Chancery was instituted a few years since by the relations of Miss Seymour, for the purpose of recovering her from the care of Mrs. Fitzherbert; and the present Lord Chancellor made an order for the child to be given up to her natural relations. Mrs. Fitzherbert appealed to the House of Lords, and the decree was reversed. She is now, therefore, the esta From the period of their first connection, the friendslup of the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert continued with very little in termission. It is unnecessary to be parti-blished guardian of this young lady. cular in this slight sketch, and as our intentio is not to offend, or to wound the feelings of any party, it will be prudent'dence, which reflected great credit upon to drop the veil. During the progress of this suit, many circumstances transpired from the evi Mrs. Fitzherbert. Her conduct towards this young orphan seemed to be affectionate and tender without example. The evi"dence of a Bishop was delivered into Chancery, who testified that he had ex Mrs. Fitzherbert is universally acknowledged to be a woman of refinement and elegant manners, of accomplishments equally solid and fascinating, and acquirements of a very high degree in the intel-amined the course and mode of Miss Sey lectual scale. Her powers are of that kind which the hand of time cannot wither, which survive the charms of youth and the decay of beauty. Her attractions are as conspicuous in her manners and her taste, mour's education, and had every reason to think it both moral and religious. This young lady resides constantly with Mrs. Fitzherbert at the summer residence of the Prince at Brighton. ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS. HYMENEA IN SEARCH OF A HUSBAND. [Continued from page 167.] "It was thus agreed on all parts," red to Edward beyond the mere circumcontinued my aunt, "that the marriage of stance of his death. To what purpose Sir William and Clarissa should take place, should they disturb her repose; why should and that no intimation should be given to they interrupt that happy serenity of temClarissa that any thing peculiar had occur-per which led her to what they wanted? not unfrequently, when unwisely encourag-ercise of fancy above nature; the mind is Clarissa,' said the Doctor, 'is one of those tempers upon whom every thing sits light; her mind is ardent but instable. She will make you a most affectionate wife as long as you live and can be with her, but if you die, or become long absent, you must expect to be forgotten as soon as Edward. It is right that you should know what you have to expect. By not expecting too much you will suffer no disappointment; half the misery of life arises from extravagant expectations. We are apt to forman estimate of life from the size and colour through which it presents itself to our view through the medium of our imagination, and because nature, even in her happiest mood, can never reach the spirit of fancy, can never paint with its brilliancy, we feel ourselves disconcerted, and lose the relish of the good we have, because we cannot reach all that we had hoped. If hope sometimes indemnifies us for the miseries, it "You and I," said my aunt, "understand very different things by the same word, and perhaps this is the source of our disagreement, which is rather in terms than in argument; by sentiment I understand that propensity to take every thing for the best, and to make the best of every thing. I take sentiment as the lawyers take equity, as a reasonable departure from the strictness of reason, and by which some allowance is made for the illusions of fancy. How happy would be our lot if we could always live in fancy instead of realty, if imagination was to give us a stage instead of nature." "This is a kind of nonsense, my dear aunt, so like sense, that I conceive it my duty to express my clear opinion of it. We are reasonable and accountable creatures; we are not born to sleepard to dream; sleep is but the repose after labour which nature has made necessary in o der to invigorate labour; dreams, or dreaming, is tire ex ed and indulged, leads us into real misery. Such is Clarissa; you now know what you have to expect.' "And I am perfectly satisfied,' said Siri William. What is it to me whether my widow weeps six months or twelve, or till her weeds wearout, or till her shoes be old? Give me the woman who can love me whilst living, and I will readily dispense with her sorrow when dead; surely it is enough for me if I am loved as long as I live, if the comforts of domestic life do not follow me into my tomb." "Well," said I to my aunt, "I cannot but acknowledge that these two lovers, Clarissa and Sir William, were well worthy of each other; the delicacy of the one is very weil matched by the delicacy of the other; they both seem to me as destitute of a heart as a calculating Jew." "I wonder," said my aunt, "that you should make this objection, who of all people in the world seem most adverse to any thing in the shape of sentiment." "Where sentiment is in opposition to reason," said I, "I cannot place myself on its side. I abhor that sentiment which, having no foundation in nature or sense, only renders us unfit for the condition of life; but where sentiment is but another name for virtue and delicacy, where it is not a fiction but a reality." still active whilst all the motions of the body are suspended. Imagination, in its best exercise, is but a waking dream; in its proper, sphere, where it illustrates and adopts the scenes and realities of nature, it is in its proper place, but no where else. "To return, however, to my narrative," said my aunt. -" The nuptials of Clarissa and Sir William were such as were suited to their rank; and though every one did not approve of the conduct of Clarissa, the splendour of their equipage and style of living, made every thing to be shortly gotten. What a world is that in which we live, Hymenæa; tell me what is the crime, short of any thing infamous, which is not pardoned, and not overlooked in those who can cover it with wealth: rank and money are every where the presumptions of worth, and the world bow before them wheresoever they are found." "I am happy," said I, "that you have become a satyrist. The first step is to see the foilies of others, the next to apply the rule to ourselves. Every person of fashion must become a misanthrope, in a degree, before I can indulge any hope of his amendment." "Well," replied my aunt, smiling, " if sagacity in seeing the faults of others be the first step at self-ref rmation, you may doubtless find reformers at every tea-tablo |