e any suspicion of the artificial
character of the lady of the house. The first gleam of light which let
in the truth was the expressions most frequent in Mrs. Fentham's
mouth--"What will the world say?" "What will people think?" "How will
such a thing appear?" "Will it have a good look?" "The world is of
opinion." "Won't such a thing be censured?" On a little acquaintance I
discovered that human applause was the motive of all she said, and
reputation her great object in all she did. Opinion was the idol to
which she sacrificed. Decorum was the inspirer of her duties, and praise
the reward of them. The standard of the world was the standard by which
she weighed actions. She had no higher principle of conduct. She adopted
the forms of religion, because she saw that, carried to a certain
degree, they rather produced credit than censure. While her husband
adjusted his accounts on the Sunday morning, she regularly carried her
daughters to church, except a head-ache had been caught at the
Saturday's opera; and as regularly exhibited herself and them afterward
in Hyde-Park. As she said it was Mr. Fentham's leisure day, she
complimented him with always having a great dinner on Sundays, but
alleged her piety as a reason for not having cards in the evening at
home, though she had no scruple to make one at a private party at a
friend's house; soberly conditioning, however, that there should not be
more than _three tables_; the right or wrong, the decorum or
impropriety, the gayety or gravity always being made specifically to
depend on the number of tables.

She was, in general, extremely severe against women who had lost their
reputation; though she had no hesitation in visiting a few of the most
dishonorable, if they were of high rank or belonged to a certain set.
In that case, she excused herself by saying, "That as fashionable people
continued to countenance them, it was not for her to be scrupulous; one
must sail with the stream; I can't set my face against the world." But
if an unhappy girl had been drawn aside, or one who had not rank to bear
her out had erred, that altered the case, and she then expressed the
most virtuous indignation. When modesty happened to be in repute, not
the necks of Queen Elizabeth and her courtly virgins were more
entrenched in ruffs and shrouded in tuckers, than those of Mrs. Fentham
and her daughters; but when _display_ became the order of the day, the
Grecian Venus was scarcely more unconscious