I have three marriages to acquaint you with, in one letter. In the
first place, Sir W.G. has sent, by the particular desire of my dear
friend, that he was made one of the happiest men in England, on the
18th past; and so I have no longer my Miss Darnford to boast of. I
have a very good opinion of the gentleman; but if he be but half so
good a husband as she will make a wife, they will be exceedingly happy
in one another.
Mr. Williams's marriage to a kinswoman of his noble patron (as you
have heard was in treaty) is the next; and there is great reason to
believe, from the character of both, that they will likewise do credit
to the state.
The third is Mr. Adams and Polly Barlow; and I wish them, for both
their sakes, as happy as either of the former. They are set out to his
living, highly pleased with one another; and I hope will have reason
to continue so to be.
As to the first, I did not indeed think the affair would have been so
soon concluded; and Miss kept it off so long, as I understood, that
her papa was angry with her: and, indeed, as the gentleman's family,
circumstances, and character, were such, that there could lie no
objection against him, I think it would have been wrong to have
delayed it.
I should have written to your ladyship before; but have been favoured
with Mr. B.'s company into Kent, on a visit to my good mother, who was
indisposed. We tarried there a week, and left both my dear parents, to
my thankful satisfaction, in as good health as ever they were in their
lives.
Mrs. Judy Swynford, or Miss Swynford (as she refuses not being called,
now and then), has been with us for this week past; and she expects
her brother, Sir Jacob, to fetch her away in about a week hence.
It does not become me to write the least word that may appear
disrespectful of any person related to your ladyship and Mr. B.
Otherwise I should say, that the B----s and the S----s are directly
the opposites of one another. But yet, as she never saw your ladyship
but once, you will forgive me to mention a word or two about her,
because she is a character that is in a manner new to me.
She is a maiden lady, as you know, and though she will not part with
the green leaf from her hand, one sees by the grey-goose down on her
brows and her head, that she cannot be less than fifty-five. But so
much pains does she take, by powder, to have never a dark hair in her
head, because she has one half of them white, that I am sorry to see,
what is a subject for reverence, should be deemed, by the good lady,
matter of concealment.
She is often seemingly reproaching herself, that she is an _old maid_,
and an _old woman_; but it is very discernible, that she expects
a compliment, that she is _not so_, every time she is so free with
herself: and if nobody makes her one, she will say something of that
sort in her own behalf.
She takes particular care, that of all the public transactions which
happen to be talked of, her memory will never carry her back above
thirty years! and then it is--"About thirty years ago; when I was a
girl," or "when I was in hanging sleeves;" and so she makes herself,
for twenty years of her life, a very useless and insignificant person.
If her teeth, which, for her age, are very good, though not over white
(and which, by her care of them, she seems to look upon as the last
remains of her better days), would but fail, it might help her to a
conviction, that would set her ten years forwarder at least. But, poor
lady, she is so _young_, in spite of her wrinkles, that I am really
concerned for her affectation; because it exposes her to the remarks
and ridicule of the gentlemen, and gives one pain for her.
Surely, these ladies don't act prudently at all; since, for every year
Mrs. Judy would take from her age, her censurers add two to it; and,
behind her back, make her going on towards seventy; whereas, if she
would lay claim to her _reverentials_, as I may say, and not try to
conceal her age, she would have many compliments for looking so well
at her years.--And many a young body would hope to be the better for
her advice and experience, who now are afraid of affronting her, if
they suppose she has lived much longer in the world than themselves.
Then she looks back to the years she owns, when more flippant ladies,
at the laughing time of her life, delight to be frolic: she tries to
sing too, although, if ever she had a voice, she has outlived it; and
her songs are of so antique a date, that they would betray her; only,
as she says, they were learnt her by her grandmother, who was a fine
lady at the Restoration. She will join in a dance; and though her
limbs move not so pliantly as might be expected of a lady no older
than she would be thought, and whose dancing-days are not entirely
over, yet that was owing to a fall from her horse some years ago,
which, she doubts, she shall never recover, though she finds she grows
better and better, _every year_.
Thus she loses the respect, the reverence, she might receive, were it
not for this miserable affectation; takes pains, by aping youth, to
make herself unworthy of her years, and is content to be thought less
discreet than she might otherwise be deemed, for fear she should be
imagined older if she appeared wiser.
What a sad thing is this, Madam!--What a mistaken conduct! We pray to
live to old age; and it is promised as a blessing, and as a reward for
the performance of certain duties; and yet, when we come to it, we had
rather be thought as foolish as youth, than to be deemed wise, and in
possession of it. And so we shew how little we deserve what we have
been so long coveting; and yet covet on: for what? Why, to be more and
more ashamed, and more and more unworthy of that we covet!
How fantastic a character is this!-Well may irreverent, unthinking
youth despise, instead of revere, the hoary head which the wearer is
so much ashamed of. The lady boasts a relationship to you, and Mr.
B. and, I think, I am very bold. But my reverence for years, and the
disgust I have to see anybody behave unworthy of them, makes me take
the greater liberty: which, however, I shall wish I had not taken, if
it meets not with that allowance, which I have always had from your
ladyship in what I write.
God knows whether ever I may enjoy the blessing I so much revere in
others. For now my heavy time approaches. But I was so apprehensive
before, and so troublesome to my best friends, with my vapourish
fears, that now (with a perfect resignation to the Divine Will) I will
only add, that I am _your ladyship's most obliged sister and servant_,
P.B.
My dear Billy, and Miss Goodwin, improve every day, and are all I can
desire or expect them to be. Could Miss's poor mamma be here with a
wish, and back again, how much would she be delighted with one of our
afternoon conferences; our Sunday employments especially!--And let
me add, that I am very happy in another young gentleman of the dean's
recommending, instead of Mr. Adams.