PRIMOGENITURE.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 720, 8 April 1864, Page 6

PRIMOGENITURE.

The following story, narrative, confession, or whatever it may be called, by a French woman, appears in the London " Morning Star" :—

I am one of a class of which you English people love not publicly to speak. lam in the sense of the word "unfortunate;" but I came to London (it is not many years ago) honest and pure. Well educated, I came as a governess, to teach French and Italian, at your West End. I have once occupied myself among the first of your families. I met there with many of the younger sons of the aristocracy—in especia\. with one whom I do not name. He paid me much attention —secretly he was all devoted to me. I loved him much, and for the moment believed that he desired to marry me. Younger son, he had no wealth, not so much as perhaps many a " commis" in one of your great establishments of commerce. He has told me often that younger sons in England are much as women; when they marry, they must marry for a rich prize and a means of life and a career, or they must be poor and despised. I have such words of his own before me in a letter which, credit me, I do not fail always to keep. He argued with me, persuaded me—what would you wish ? I left everything for him. Behold me i os t—yet I then, and for a long time, accounted the 1039 as a nothing.

He took an apartment for me at Brompton, where he often came. For the time I blush to say that I was happy, and felt no remorse. But I soon found that his habits were not mine. Educated a rich man, he was poor, but he could not live in economy. He must visit his club, he must have his shooting and his chase, he must go to Baden-Baden and Homburg, he must dine with his great friends and go to balls, and Chamber of Commons. He often spoke bitterly to me (especially when he lost at play or was pressed by creditors' exigencies') of your bad social laws, which refuse to divide fairly the father's property among the sons, but while allowing to all the sons equal tastes for luxury and splendour, assign to one the domains and money, and leave the rest untaught to work, doomed to be idlers, and perhaps almost beggars. We have talked of it, sir, I do not know how many times. I knew that he could do nothing for me. He told me of it. He often told me that he grieved for me, and I believe that he did. But he said women like me were the victims in England of men like him. I have since had many opportunities of seeing it, and I know it is all the truth. Was he not, too, a victim ? Was it not the bad system which made him. all he was ? Had he been brought up as a poor man he would have made me his wife, and we would have been happy. Had he received his share of the inheritance—his only for bad legislation—l feel myself all convinced he would have married me as well. My story is the story of hundreds. Yes, and of hundreds.

But he grew weary of his life. I soon saw it. He only cared for pleasure, and he sank deep and deep down into debt. He was accumulated, crushed of debts. He filled our apartment with friends, like himself young and gay. V\ re had brilliant little suppers, we had visits of gaiety to Richmond, to the Crystal Palace, to the expositions of paintings. We went to the theatre, the opera, I know not where. We rode in Rotteurow. I have blushed all crimson to meet his sisters there. For him, he only laughed, and said English girls now begin to know the world and expect no more their brothers to be virtuous.

His friends praised me, many of them. He complained not. I saw, with grief, that he was not jealous. He wanted to be free of me—he had a chance of marrying well, ranging himself, and getting a post under the Government. I stood not in his way. I set him free. I have seen him since; and for a time we were not bad friends, but now he speaks to me no more. I shame to say that I passed into other protection. I attached myself to one of his friends. I did not stop there. I went the downward course, but I am not in-

clined to write to you in the strain of sentiment or to make a romance and a sensation ofmisfoiiunes which, without doubt, were only too well deserved. But wherecver I went I saw the same episodes repeated. Wheresoever are the younger sons of your aristocracy, there behold idleness, luxury, helplessness, debt, prodigality, dissipation. What means of having it otherwise ? What _ would you have where a system unites in one person the vices of the aristocracy and the vices of pauperism ? 1 have known many cases which were just as mine—of girls who sacrificed themselves like me to those who could not, even if they would, offer them an honest and lasting affection. Sir, there have been poor girls who have married grand seigneurs, and been cherished and happy, like the lady of the Lord of Burghley,isitnot ? in the romance of your great living poet. But if the Lord of Burghley had only been a noble in the name, and had no castle, no land, no gold—if he had all possible of luxurious taste, and all of ambition, and a career to to carve out for himself, and great friends to point at him the scornful finger while he remained poor, 1 do not think the story would have ended as in the ballad. The poor girl might have truly loved the lord, but the lord would never have endowed of his hand the poor girl who brought him nothingSir, I think you will forgive this woman's tale. Perhaps it does not badly serve to illuminate your argument with a new light. Forgive my imperfect English, of which yet in my better days I was proud. Ask not my name, nor more of my career. Think of me as once a victim, now

Ujntg Fille de Makbee