A mother's merit must
depend solely upon how she brings up her children (hers are the most
spoiled brats in Christendom). 'There I perfectly agree with you, Lady
Emily. As you observe, it is not every mother who does her duty by her
children. Indeed, I may say to you, it is not everyone that will make
the sacrifices for their family I have done; but thank God! I am richly
repaid. My children are everything I could wish them to be!' Everything
of hers, as a matter of course, must be superior to every other
person's, and even what she is obliged to share in common with others
acquires some miraculous charm in operating upon her. Thus it is
impossible for anyone to imagine the delight she takes in bathing; and
as for the sun, no mortal can conceive the effect it has upon her. If
she was to have the plague she would assure you it was owing to some
peculiar virtue in her blood; and if she was to be put in the pillory
she would ascribe it entirely to her great merit. If her coachman were
to make her a declaration of love she would impute it to the boundless
influence of her charms; that every man who sees her does not declare
his passion is entirely owing to the well-known severity of her morals
and the dignity of her deportment. If she is amongst the first invited
to my ball, that will be my eagerness to secure her: if the very last,
it will be a mark of my friendship, and the easy footing we are upon.
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