Theresa Marchmont, or, the Maid of Honour: A TaleGore, Mrs. (Catherine Grace Frances)
General
Theresa Marchmont, or, the Maid of Honour: A Tale
Gore, Mrs. (Catherine Grace Frances)
Fiction
she was indebted for her present honourable station. Being however, as
it were, friendless as well as dowerless, and backed in my suit by the
powerful assistance of the king's approbation, I did not anticipate much
opposition to my pretensions to the hand of Miss Marchmont, which
had now become the object of my dearest ambition. I knew myself to be
naturally formed for domestic life; and while the disastrous position
of public affairs had obliged me to waste the days of my early youth
in camps or courts, and in exile from my own hereditary possessions,
I resolved to pass the evening of my life in the repose of a happy and
well-ordered home in my native country.
“To the vitiated taste of the gallants of the court, many of whom might
have proved powerful rivals, had they been so inclined, marriage had
no attractions. The acknowledged distaste of Charles for a matrimonial
life, and his avowed infidelities, sanctioned the disdain of his
dissolute companions for all the more holy and endearing ties of
existence. I had therefore little to fear from competition; indeed among
the maids of honour of the Queen, whose situation threw them into
hourly scenes of revelry and dissipation, Theresa Marchmont, who was
universally acknowledged to be the loveliest of the train, excited less
than any those attentions of idle gallantry, which however, sought and
prized by her livelier companions, are offensive to true modesty. I
attributed this flattering distinction to the respect ensured by the
extreme _reténue_ and propriety of her manners, but I have had reason
since to ascribe the reserve of the courtiers to a less commendable
motive. On occasion of a masqued festival given by Her Majesty on her
birth-day at Kew, the king, in distributing the characters, allotted
to Miss Marchmont that of Diana. 'Your Majesty' said the Duchess of
Grafton, 'has judiciously assigned the part of the frigid goddess, to
the only statue of snow visible among us. _Mademoiselle se renchérit sur
son petit air de province, si glacial et si arrangé_,' continued
she, turning to the Comt de Gramont. 'Madam,' said the king, bowing
respectfully to Theresa, with all that captivating grace of address for
which he was distinguished, 'if every frozen statue were as lovely and
attractive as this, I should forget to wish for their animation; and
become myself a votary of the
“'Queen and huntress, chaste and fair!'
“'Ay,' whispered the Duke of Buckingham, 'even at the perilous risk of
being termed Charles, king and Lunatic.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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