Elizabeth Gunning

Miss Gunning. Dangers through Life; or, The Victim of Seduction. By Mrs. Plunkett (late Miss Gunning).

London:  J. Ebers, 1810.

Contemporary Reviews

Critical Review, ns v28 (Apr. 1800), 477-78

(Art V.) Dangers through Life; or, the Victim of Seduction. 3 vols. By Mrs. Plunket, (late Miss Gunning.) London, Ebers, 1810. Price 15s.

     No species of publication tends so much as the general class of novels to vitiate that proper taste for reading which we wish every young person to acquire and to retain. The reading of novels perverts the judgment, and alienates the mind from those occupations to which females would do well to attend, and renders every instructive book dull and heavy, when compared with the romantic love-tales which they are in the habit of gorging with such avidity. Mrs. Plunket has distinguished herself, and acquired great credit by this kind of writing in some of her former works, and it would have given us no small pleasure, if we could have said that she had added to that credit by her present story.
     Mrs. Plunket tells us in her dedication, that her simple tale is founded on truth, and that it may not be useless to give it to the world.-That many of her remarks on marriage, and the duties incumbent on husband and wife, are very just and good, we are most willing to admit; yet, we must own, that this simple tale of Mrs. Plunket, appears to us on the whole more likely to produce mischief than to promote good. Can Mrs. Plunket imagine, that a tale of seduction, in which the adultress is pictured as every thing that is amiable, and represented as plunged into a guilty intrigue, through the art of a disappointed lover, and the indifference of a gay and depraved husband, can prove a good lesson when taken up by a thoughtless wife, or perused with a heated imagination by [378] some giddy girl? No, Mrs. Plunket; you, who have moved in the highest circles of fashion, and whose experience in life and thorough knowledge of the world are so extensive and almost unrivalled, must know to the contrary.
     The thoughtless and coquetish wife, who fancies, or who really feels herself slighted by her husband, will take no moral lesson from the fall of Lady Warwick; but we fear she will be apt in her own mind to wish to retaliate on her husband's indifference and infidelity in the like manner, by an amour with one of those pests of society and disturbers of domestic peace, whom we so often see buzzing their disgusting and baneful flattery in the ear of every pretty married woman on whom they can prevail to listen to their treacherous voice.
     The romantic girl who pants for the gay scenes and passionate lovers, of whom she reads such warm descriptions, will, we fear, pass over with the yawn of ennui, the wholesome advice of Mrs. Delmond, contained in the opening of the first volume for the perusal of the rapturous letters of the lover and the guilty wife; nor will she see the wickedness of the wife's conduct to her husband, nor her cruelty to her children, with that horror which she ought to feel, when that wife is represented so amiable, so slighted by her husband and so loved by her paramour; who by the way is also described as vastly good; a husband and a father, who quits a most amiable and dutiful wife, to ruin a beautiful woman, and destroy the domestic peace of a family. Where, in the name of reason, can be the good moral of this story, when the guilty characters are so held up to admiration?
     In many of Mrs. Plunket's novels there is an easy elegance of fashionable life that pervades the whole very pleasingly, and shews the woman of sense and good breeding; but this production seems hastily written, and we look in vain for elegance of language or beauty of sentiment; instead of which we are favoured with a rhapsody, and with hot descriptions of still hotter love, if we may use such an expression.
     This novel is written in a series of letters; a mode, which, if not particularly well executed, is apt from the repetition of the same matter, to render the perusal very irksome; but in this work of Mrs. Plunket we do complain of this very general defect. The best of these letters are from Sir Frederick Neville to Lord Clermont. The latter is a young nobleman, who is made the dupe of the Marquis Belville, a dissipated debauchee, who fixes on this young man (who is represented as naturally amiable, but impelled by a sensibility and enthusiasm, amounting almost to madness), as an instrument to avenge the slight he has experienced by a repulse from [379] Lady Warwick. Lady W. who is a woman of great beauty, virtue, and every estimable quality, is married to the man of her choice, but is after a time totally neglected by him, owing to his love for horses, dogs, and prostitutes. After regretting his indifference for some time, and conducting herself with great decorum, she finds that she cannot reclaim him, and falls into that common error of seeking in dissipation those pleasures abroad which she fancies it impossible to procure at home. She has wit and good sense, and was educated in the most rigid principles of honour and duty. She finds herself admired, followed, and caressed; but determined to be just to her husband and her children, she withstands every temptation with great firmness, till my Lord Clermont makes his appearance. Lord Clermont, who is privately married to a noble Spanish lady, falls in love with Lady Warwick, and my Lady with Lord C. After a violent bustle about virtue, and violent struggles, and storming about Almighty love on both sides, the Lady admits which is called a platonic affection. Here Mrs. Plunket remarks, though the same thing has been frequently remarked before. 'How imprudent is that woman, who, depending on the strength of her own heart and principles, admits to her breast the delusions of platonic love.'
     In looking over several of these letters, we are struck with almost a conviction that they are a translation, or at least a very strict imitation from the French. Does Mrs. Plunket suppose the Marquis of Belvill's first letter can add to the morals of the youth of either sex? Is it at all English? no! it is truly French;--French principles and French depravity mark the whole work. Let us ask Mrs. Plunket one question, as she is pleased to speak of the morality of her work:--what moral benefit is a young woman of 16 likely to derive from the answer of Lady Warwick to the Marquis of Belville's letter? His letter also to his friend Beaumont in Spain is highly immoral; and though it may in some degree shew the man of fashion and dissipation, we think that it does not shew the English nobleman. As Lady Warwick is represented as a neglected wife, we will extract a part which certainly comes very home to those sporting husbands, who neglect their wives for the dog-kennel, the stable, and the race-ground.
     'I was in hopes the return of Sir Charles would have removed, in some degree, the idea from the mind of his lovely wife that she was become so totally indifferent, as, from her conversation with me, I discovered she thought him; but I regret to say, my dear madam, that when he did come, it rather must have added [380] to the mortification she before felt, than have diminished from it. It was past five when his post-chaise drove up to the door. He saluted his wife politely, welcomed me to the house, but did not appear in the best humour, for we soon found out he had met with a disappointment. The truth is, he had lost a very considerable sum of money; but that did not give him, he told us, half the uneasiness as he had received from the reflection that his favourite horse, Invincible, should be beat hollow. However, as he had not seen Lady Warwick so long, he was so exceedingly polite as to dine at home, though he assured us he had a thousand things to do, and persons to meet at the club.
     'Lady Warwick appeared very happy; asked him a number of questions respecting his journey, and told him all the little events which had passed during his absence, with a degree of vivacity and good humour which ought to have engaged the attention of any husband.
     'When the dessert came on the table, she said-'But, my dearest Sir Charles, you have not yet seen your sweet boys!'-and, ringing the bell, ordered the nurse to bring them to the dining-room.
     'And do you hear, Thomas?' added Sir Charles; 'bring that little puppy, that was sent me yesterday by Davenport. It is the best bred thing, Cecilia, that ever joined a pack.'
     'He seemed; however, vastly pleased with his lovely children, gave them two or three affectionate kisses, and stuffed them with fruit; but, being soon sent to their nursery, and Davenport's present introduced by the servant, he kissed and slobbered the dirty animal for half an hour, and then fell fast asleep on the couch, with the dirty brute in his arms, leaving his lovely wife and myself to contemplate the pleasure of a conjugal state, or to reflect how it was possible that the same person could have been the most passionate of lovers, who was now become the most indifferent of husbands. Cecilia seemed mortified, and ready to burst into tears; and I confess I felt enraged, but was determined not to give her the additional mortification of knowing I observed the reason she had to lament her fate. While we were thus unpleasantly situated, his brother George came to our relief. "My dear Cecilia," said he, "I beg you will not disturb the slumber of that sleeping beauty on my account; let him doze on; but, for heaven's sake, what is that lies smothering in his arms there, and he is stifling with affection; it is not surely one of the boys?'
     'No,' replies Lady Warwick, 'it is a puppy, Sir Charles says, of the finest breed imaginable.'-'Upon my word, he has lately become the most extraordinary dupe to dogs and horses I ever met,' said the good-humoured George; 'the folly and absurdity of the whole jockey-club is not, when put together, equal to his. In a short time he will, I suppose, give up all his acquaintance, except grooms or jockeys.' At the close of this observation, in which sir Charles bore a part with the music of his nose, coffee was brought in; and soon after he awoke.
     [381] 'What, George here! said he.-'I hope you are not unwell, brother? I do not remember to have before seen you sleep after dinner.'
     'Only fatigued,' continued Sir Charles; ''tis inconceivable what a scene of hurry and confusion I have passed through within these last six weeks. What with the regiment, the races, private matches, trials among my own horses-then joining our hunt, which drinks very freely, with several intermediate visits, where we have had exceeding hard bouts, I have scarce had one regular night's rest since I saw you.'
     'I rejoice then,' said his kind-hearted brother, 'that you are returned to your own peaceful home.'
     'I wish it was in my power to indulge myself for a few days; but I am under the necessity of setting out to-morrow by four o'clock, as I have a young filly in training, at Newmarket, that, with proper training, will win the whole world. I cannot, therefore, be absent; and I am afraid I must renew these journies every fortnight, for some time.'
     'While he was uttering these words, as he sat with his eyes fixed upon the tea-table, his head reclined somewhat to the right shoulder, his lips closed, but pouted out as far as he could stretch them, his forehead knit, and his eye-brows lowering.
     'Surely, my dear,' said Cecilia, 'you do not think of leaving me again so soon?'
     'But he was too intent upon the important business which was to carry him to Newmarket, to hear any voice but that of a groom, who, at the moment, requested to know if the puppy was to be led to Newmarket, by one of the boys that was to set off in the morning?
     'No,' says he, 'it is too young to travel in that way; its life too valuable to be risked. No, it shall go with me in the chaise; and here, Tom, do you know what mare the bay filly was out of?'
     'Black Moll,' says Tom.
     'Nobody,' says Sir Charles, 'will have nay horses to run against me soon-I shall have the best steed (stud) in England.'
     'Then you'll win every thing, your honour,' says Tom.
     'True, Tom; I hsall beat the whole world out of the course.'-And then he returned into his brown study.
     'Tom left the room, Mr. Warwick looked grieved, Cecilia angry; and this scene continued till my Lord started up on a sudden, rung the bell, ordered his carriage at eleven, and informed us he was sorry he was under an absolute promise to meet Lord L--, at White's. He then retired to take off his boots, and Warwick asked Cecilia why she did not use her influence over him to stay at home?
     'Oh, my good brother!' said Cecilia, 'that influence is all gone; however wild and dissipated you and the world think me, I can truly say I have ever made his will the rule of my conduct; and when I discovered that he chose to be governed by his own will alone, I determined never to interpose any wish of mine; indeed, I have ever been as happy in consulting his inclinations, as I should have been had I continued mistress of my own; and, before you and Mrs. Fitzroy, I may venture to declare, gay as I appear, the only anxiety which I have laboured to keep from the world, has been that, of late, I could not discover his inclinations, or his wish. He is grown so indifferent to me, that every endeavour of mine meets with coldness and neglect. This unmerited contempt stings me to the soul; and who can wonder that I fly to the pleasures of the world to forget myself?'
     'Suffice it to say, my dear madam, we saw no more of Sir Charles for that night; Cecilia pressed me to accompany her to a supper party, at Mrs. Danvers'; and, as I thought she had met disappointments enough for one day, I consented. Lady Darnley, Lord Clermont, and the Marquis of Belville were there; the former appears a sensible, pleasant, and is, I fear, a dangerous young man, far superior to the butterflies of the day. The Marquis and his sister you know my opinion of, therefore I need not expatiate on them.
     'We returned to Grosvenor-square early, and the next morning we hear Sir Charles was set off for Newmarket. Cecilia said to me, the next morning,--'Good heavens! my dear Fanny, what can be the meaning of this strange alteration in Sir Charles towards me? --that the same man, in the space of two years, should differ more from himself than one man does form another?-Tell me, my dear, am I grown so old, and those charms, in praise of which this man, whose understanding is now scarce better than a jockey's, was eloquent, so mightily changed from what they were, that he should thus endeavour to remove every particle of affection I may still feel for him? However, thank heaven, his cold indifference shall never more torment me, if I can judge my heart; and, for the future, I will be as cold as himself.
     'I endeavoured to reason on this point, and to open her eyes, if possible, to the danger of her situation; young, lovely, as she is-hurt at the conduct of him who ought to be her pilot on the dangerous sea of life, and who, for the present, had unthinkingly abandoned her to steer through it without his protecting aid;--she appeared more sensibly affected by my conversation than I expected, and promised me she would be particularly on her guard, that no levity on her part should balance his indifference.
     'I have now my dear aunt, given you every particular. How happy I should have been had my communications been more agreeable. To-morrow I return to the Lodge; Mr. Fitzroy cannot, he writes word, give me a further leave of absence. Indeed I long, short as has been my absence, again to see him and my babes.-Adieu, my dearest madam!-Being most affectionately yours, F. Fitzroy.'

Monthly Mirror, 9 (Feb. 1800), 89

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New London Review, 3 (Jan. 1800), 83.

     not seen



-Prepared by Margaret Case Croskery, Ohio Northern University, July 2003