“No; all that is required, I believe, is that we should shut our own.”

Mary thought the conversation was getting rather too piquante to be pleasant, and tried to soften the tone of it by asking that most innocent question, Whether there was any news?

“Nothing but about battles and fightings, I suppose,” answered Mrs. Downe Wright.  “I’m sure they are to be pitied who have friends or relations either in army or navy at present.  I have reason to be thankful my son is in neither.  He was very much set upon going into one or other; but I was always averse to it; for, independent of the danger, they are professions that spoil a man for domestic life; they lead to such expensive, dissipated habits, as quite ruin them for family men.  I never knew a military man but what must have his bottle of port every day.  With sailors, indeed, it’s still worse; grog and tobacco soon destroy them.  I’m sure if I had a daughter it would make me miserable if she was to take fancy to a naval or military man;—­but,” as if suddenly recollecting herself, “after all, perhaps it’s a mere prejudice of mine.”

“By no means,” said Lady Emily “there is no prejudice in the matter; what you say is very true.  They are to be envied who can contrive to fall in love with a stupid, idle man:  they never can experience any anxiety; their fate is fixed; ’the waveless calm, the slumber of the dead,’ is theirs; as long as they can contrive to slumber on, or at least to keep their eyes shut, ’tis very well, they are in no danger of stumbling till they come to open them; and if they are sufficiently stupid themselves there is no danger of their doing even that.  The have only to copy the owl, and they are safe.”

“I quite agree with your Ladyship ,” said Mrs. Downe Wright, with a well got-up, good-humoured laugh.  “A woman has only not to be a wit or a genius, and there is no fear of her; not that I have that antipathy to a clever woman that many people have, and especially the gentlemen.  I almost quarrelled with Mr. Headley, the great author, t’other day, for saying that he would rather encounter a nest of wasps than a clever woman.”

“I should most cordially have agreed with him,” said Lady Emily, with equal naivete. “There is nothing more insupportable than one of your clever women, so called.  They are generally under-bred, consequently vulgar.  They pique themselves upon saying good things coitte qu’il coute. There is something, in short, quite professional about them; and they wouldn’t condescend to chat nonsense as you and I are doing at this moment—­oh! not for worlds!  Now, I think one of the great charms of life consists in talking nonsense.  Good nonsense is an exquisite thing; and ’tis an exquisite thing to be stupid sometimes, and to say nothing at all.  Now, these enjoyments the clever woman must forego.  Clever she is, and clever she must be.  Her life must be a greater drudgery than that of any actress. She merely frets her hour upon the stage; the curtain dropped, she may become as dull as she chooses; but the clever woman must always stage it, even at her own fireside.”