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[Illustration: --It was long past midnight,--she had a heap of Mr.
L----'s old letters beside her. She denied that she was in tears.]




  LEONORA

  BY

  MARIA EDGEWORTH

  [Illustration]

  "O lady Leonora! lady Leonora is ill!" exclaimed
  every voice. The consternation was wonderful.

  LONDON
  J.M. DENT & Co. ALDINE HOUSE
  69, GREAT EASTERN STREET, E.C.
  1893




[Illustration]

  NOTE.


Leonora, though not published until 1806, was commenced three years
before that date: the circumstances under which it was written were to a
certain extent unique in Maria Edgeworth's life; for we are told that
throughout the time occupied in writing the story, she had in mind the
offer of marriage made to her by Monsieur Edelcrantz, a Swedish
gentleman of good position, "of superior understanding and mild
manners," as she told her aunt in a letter partly written before the
proposal and finished afterwards. This seems, from the biographies, to
have been the only time this truly good and sensible woman was ever
sought in marriage by any man; and it shows some of the good qualities
she possessed, that though she refused him, yet from the respect she
bore him and the esteem in which she held him, this story was written to
a large extent with a view to his approbation, though we are told that
she never knew whether or no he had read it.

On the next page is appended a list of the principal editions of this
volume.

Leonora, by Maria Edgeworth, 2 vols., London, 1806.

---- Another edition, with _Letters on Several Subjects_, and
    _An Essay on Self-Justification_ (forming Vol. IV. of _Tales
    and Miscellaneous Pieces_, by Maria Edgeworth, 14 vols.), London,
    1825.

---- Another edition (Vol. XIII. of _Novels and Tales_ of Maria
    Edgeworth, 18 vols.), London, 1832-33.

Many reprints from the stereotype plates of this edition have been
    issued in various forms and with varying arrangement of the stories.

Translated into French in 1807, and another edition in 1812.

        F. J. S.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

  LEONORA.


  Letter i.

  _Lady Olivia to Lady Leonora L----._


What a misfortune it is to be born a woman! In vain, dear Leonora, would
you reconcile me to my doom. Condemned to incessant hypocrisy, or
everlasting misery, woman is the slave or the outcast of society.
Confidence in our fellow-creatures, or in ourselves, alike forbidden us,
to what purpose have we understandings, which we may not use? hearts,
which we may not trust? To our unhappy sex genius and sensibility are
the most treacherous gifts of Heaven. Why should we cultivate talents
merely to gratify the caprice of tyrants? Why seek for knowledge, which
can prove only that our wretchedness is irremediable? If a ray of light
break in upon us, it is but to make darkness more visible; to show us
the narrow limits, the Gothic structure, the impenetrable barriers of
our prison. Forgive me if on this subject I cannot speak--if I cannot
think--with patience. Is it not fabled, that the gods, to punish some
refractory mortal of the male kind, doomed his soul to inhabit upon
earth a female form? A punishment more degrading, or more difficult to
endure, could scarcely be devised by cruelty omnipotent. What dangers,
what sorrows, what persecutions, what nameless evils awaits the woman
who dares to rise above the prejudices of her sex!

  "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!"

who, without a struggle, submit their reason to be swathed by all the
absurd bandages of custom. What, though they <DW36> or distort their
minds; are not these deformities beauties in the eyes of fashion? and
are not these people the favoured nurslings of the _World_, secure of
her smiles, her caresses, her fostering praise, her partial protection,
through all the dangers of youth and all the dotage of age?

  "Ah! happy they, the happiest of their kind!"

who learn to speak, and think, and act by rote; who have a phrase, or a
maxim, or a formula ready for every occasion; who follow--

  "All the nurse and all the priest have taught."

And is it possible that Olivia can envy these _tideless-blooded_ souls
their happiness--their apathy? Is her high spirit so broken by
adversity? Not such the promise of her early years, not such the
language of her unsophisticated heart! Alas! I scarcely know, I scarcely
recollect, that proud self, which was wont to defy the voice of opinion,
and to set at nought the decrees of prejudice. The events of my life
shall be related, or rather the history of my sensations; for in a life
like mine sensations become events--a metamorphosis which you will see
in every page of my history. I feel an irresistible impulse to open my
whole heart to you, my dear Leonora. I ought to be awed by the
superiority of your understanding and of your character; yet there is
an indulgence in your nature, a softness in your temper, that dissipates
fear, and irresistibly attracts confidence.

You have generously refused to be prejudiced against me by busy,
malignant rumour; you have resolved to judge of me for yourself.
Nothing, then, shall be concealed. In such circumstances I cannot seek
to extenuate any of my faults or follies. I am ready to acknowledge them
all with self-humiliation more poignant than the sarcasms of my
bitterest enemies. But I must pause till I have summoned courage for my
confession. Dear Leonora, adieu!

  Olivia.




  Letter ij.

  _Olivia to Leonora._


Full of life and spirits, with a heart formed for all the enthusiasm,
for all the delicacy of love, I married early, in the fond expectation
of meeting a heart suited to my own. Cruelly disappointed, I
found--merely a husband. My heart recoiled upon itself; true to my own
principles of virtue, I scorned dissimulation. I candidly confessed to
my husband, that my love was extinguished. I proved to him, alas! too
clearly, that we were not born for each other. The attractive moment of
illusion was past--never more to return; the repulsive reality remained.
The living was chained to the dead, and, by the inexorable tyranny of
English laws, that chain, eternally galling to innocence, can be severed
only by the desperation of vice. Divorce, according to our barbarous
institutions, cannot be obtained without guilt. Appalled at the thought,
I saw no hope but in submission. Yet to submit to live with the man I
could not love was, to a mind like mine, impossible. My principles and
my feelings equally revolted from this legal prostitution. We separated.
I sought for balm to my wounded heart in foreign climes.

To the beauties of nature I was ever feelingly alive. Amidst the sublime
scenes of Switzerland, and on the consecrated borders of her classic
lakes, I sometimes forgot myself to happiness. Felicity, how
transient!--transient as the day-dreams that played upon my fancy in the
bright morning of love. Alas! not all creation's charms could soothe me
to repose. I wandered in search of that which change of place cannot
afford. There was an aching void in my heart--an indescribable sadness
over my spirits. Sometimes I had recourse to books; but how few were in
unison with my feelings, or touched the trembling chords of my
disordered mind! Commonplace morality I could not endure. History
presented nothing but a mass of crimes. Metaphysics promised some
relief, and I bewildered myself in their not inelegant labyrinth. But to
the bold genius and exquisite pathos of some German novelists I hold
myself indebted for my largest portion of ideal bliss; for those rapt
moments, when sympathy with kindred souls transported me into better
worlds, and consigned vulgar realities to oblivion.

I am well aware, my Leonora, that you approve not of these my favourite
writers: but yours is the morality of one who has never known sorrow. I
also would interdict such cordials to the happy. But would you forbid
those to taste