THE SYLPH
BY
GEORGIANA
DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE
"Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief give ear,
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Demons, hear!
Ye know the spheres, and various tasks assign'd
By laws eternal to th'aërial kind:
Some in the fields of purest æther play,
And bask, and whiten, in the blaze of day;
Some guide the course of wand'ring orbs on high,
Or roll the planets thro' the boundless sky:
Our humbler province is to tend the Fair,
Not a less pleasing, _nor_ less glorious care."
POPE's Rape of the Lock.
Table of Contents
VOLUME I VOLUME II
LETTER I LETTER XXVII LETTER LIII
LETTER II LETTER XXVIII LETTER LIV
LETTER III LETTER XXIX LETTER LV
LETTER IV LETTER XXX LETTER LVI
LETTER V LETTER XXXI LETTER LVII
LETTER VI LETTER XXXII LETTER LVIII
LETTER VII LETTER XXXIII LETTER LIX
LETTER VIII LETTER XXXIV LETTER LX
LETTER IX LETTER XXXV LETTER LXI
LETTER X LETTER XXXVI
LETTER XI LETTER XXXVII
LETTER XII LETTER XXXVIII
LETTER XIII LETTER XXXIX
LETTER XIV LETTER XL
LETTER XV LETTER XLI
LETTER XVI LETTER XLII
LETTER XVII LETTER XLIII
LETTER XVIII LETTER XLIV
LETTER XIX LETTER XLV
LETTER XX LETTER XLVI
LETTER XX LETTER XLVII
LETTER XXII LETTER XLVIII
LETTER XXIII LETTER XLIX
LETTER XXIV LETTER L
LETTER XXV LETTER LI
LETTER XXVI LETTER LII
VOLUME I
LETTER I.
TO LORD BIDDULPH.
It is a certain sign of a man's cause being bad, when he is obliged to
quote precedents in the follies of others, to excuse his own. You see I
give up my cause at once. I am convinced I have done a silly thing, and
yet I can produce thousands who daily do the same with, perhaps, not so
good a motive as myself. In short, not to puzzle you too much, which I
know is extremely irksome to a man who loves to have every thing as
clear as a proposition in Euclid; your friend (now don't laugh) is
married. "Married!" Aye, why not? don't every body marry? those who have
estates, to have heirs of their own; and those who have _nothing_, to
get _something_; so, according to my system, every body marries. Then
why that stare of astonishment? that look of unbelief? Yes, thou
infidel, I am married, and to such a woman! though, notwithstanding her
beauty and other accomplishments, I shall be half afraid to present her
in the world, she's such a rustic! one of your sylvan deities. But I was
mad for her. "So you have been for half the women in town." Very true,
my Lord, so I have, till I either gained them, or saw others whose image
obliterated theirs. You well know, love with me has ever been a laughing
God, "Rosy lips and cherub smiles," none of its black despairing looks
have I experienced.
What will the world say? How will some exult that I am at last taken in!
What, the gay seducive Stanley shackled!
But, I apprehend, your Lordship will wish to be informed how the
"smiling mischief" seized me. Well, you shall have the full and true
particulars of the matter how, the time when, and place where. I must,
however, look back. Perhaps I have been too precipitate--I might
possibly have gained the charming maid at a less expense than
"adamantine everlasting chains."--But the bare idea of losing her made
every former resolution of never being enslaved appear as nothing.--Her
looks "would warm the cool bosom of age," and tempt an Anchorite to sin.
I could have informed you in a much better method, and have led you on
through a flowery path; but as all my elaborate sketches must have ended
in this disastrous truth, _I am married_, I thought it quite as well to
let you into that important secret at once. As I have divided my
discourse under three heads, I will, according to some able preachers,
_begin with the first_.
I left you as you may remember (though perhaps the burgundy might have
washed away your powers of recollection) pretty early one morning at the
Thatched-house, to proceed as far as Wales to visit Lord G----. I did
not find so much sport as I expected in his Lordship's grounds; and
within doors, two old-fashioned maiden sisters did not promise such as
is suited to my taste, and therefore pretended letters from town, which
required my attendance, and in consequence made my _conge_ and departed.
On my journey--as I had no immediate business any where, save that which
has ever been my sole employ, amusement--I resolved to make little
deviations from the right road, and like a _sentimental traveller_ pick
up what I could find in my way conducive to the chief end of my life. I
stopped at a pleasant village some distance from Abergavenny, where I
rested some time, making little excursive progressions round the
country. Rambling over the _cloud-capt_ mountains one morning--a morning
big with the fate of moor-game and your friend--from the ridge of a
precipice I beheld, to me, the most delicious game in the hospitable
globe, a brace of females, unattended, and, by the stile of their dress,
though far removed from the vulgar, yet such as did not bespeak them of
_our_ world.--I drew out my glass to take a nearer ken, when such
beauties shot from one in particular, that fired my soul, and ran
thrilling through every vein. That instant they turned from me, and
seemed to be bending their foot-steps far away. Mad with the wish of a
nearer view, and fearful of losing sight of them, I hastily strove to
descend. My eyes still fixed on my lovely object, I paid no regard to my
situation, and, while my thoughts and every faculty were absorbed in
this pleasing idea, scrambled over rocks and precipices fearless of
consequences; which however might have concluded rather unfortunately,
and spoiled me for adventure; for, without the least warning, which is
often the case, a piece of earth gave way, and down my worship rolled to
the bottom. The height from whence I had fallen, and the rough
encounters I had met with, stunned me for some time, but when I came to
my recollection, I was charmed to see my beautiful girls running towards
me. They had seen my fall, and, from my lying still, concluded I was
killed; they expressed great joy on hearing me speak, and most
obligingly endeavored to assist me in rising, but their united efforts
were in vain; my leg was broken. This was a great shock to us all. In
the sweetest accents they condoled me on my misfortune, and offered
every assistance and consolation in their power. To a genius so
enterprizing as myself, any accident which furthered my wishes of making
an acquaintance with the object I had been pursuing, appeared trivial,
when the advantages presented themselves to my view. I sat therefore
_like Patience on a monument_, and bore my misfortune with a stoical
philosophy. I wanted much to discover who they were, as their
appearance was rather equivocal, and might have pronounced them
belonging to any station in life. Their dress was exactly the same:
white jackets and petticoats, with light green ribbands, &c. I asked
some questions, which I hoped would lead to the point I wished to be
informed in: their answers were polite, but not satisfactory; though I
cannot say they were wholly evasive, as they seemed artlessly innocent;
or, if at all reserved, it was the reserve which native modesty teaches.
One of them said, I was in great need of instant assistance; and she had
interest enough to procure some from an house not very distant from us:
on which, they were both going. I entreated the younger one to stay, as
I should be the most wretched of all mortals if left to myself. "We go,"
said she, "in order to relieve that wretchedness." I fixed my eyes on
her with the most tender languor I could assume; and, sighing, told her,
"it was in her power alone to give me ease, since she was the cause of
my pain: her charms had dazzled my eyes, and occasioned that false step
which had brought me sooner than I expected at her feet." She smiled,
and answered, "then it was doubly incumbent on her to be as quick as
possible in procuring me every accommodation necessary." At that instant
they spied a herdsman, not far off. They called aloud, and talking with
him some little time, without saying a word further to me, tripped away
like two fairies. I asked the peasant who those lovely girls were. He
not answering, I repeated my question louder, thinking him deaf; but,
staring at me with a stupid astonishment, he jabbered out some barbarous
sounds, which I immediately discovered to be a Welsh language I knew no
more than the Hottentotts. I had flattered myself with being, by this
fellow's assistance, able to discover the real situation of these sweet
girls: indeed I hoped to have found them within my reach; for, though I
was at that moment as much in love as a man with a broken leg and
bruised body could be supposed, yet I had then not the least thoughts of
matrimony, I give you my honour. Thus disappointed in my views, I rested
as contented as I could--hoping better fortune by and bye.
In a little time a person, who had the appearance of a gentleman,
approached, with three other servants, who carried a gate, on which was
laid a feather-bed. He addressed me with the utmost politeness, and
assisted to place me on this litter, and begged to have the honour of
attending me to his house. I returned his civilities with the same
politeness, and was carried to a very good-looking house on the side of
a wood, and placed on a bed in a room handsomely furnished. A surgeon
came a few hours after. The fracture was reduced; and as I was ordered
to be kept extremely quiet, every one left the room, except my kind
host, who sat silently by the bed-side. This was certainly genuine
hospitality, for I was wholly unknown, as you may suppose: however, my
figure, being that of a gentleman, and my distressed situation, were
sufficient recommendations.
After lying some time in a silent state, I ventured to breathe out my
grateful acknowledgements; but Mr. Grenville stopped me short, nor would
suffer me to say one word that might tend to agitate my spirits. I told
him, I thought it absolutely necessary to inform him who I was, as the
event of my accident was uncertain. I therefore gave a concise account
of myself. He desired to know if I had any friend to whom I would wish
to communicate my situation. I begged him to send to the village I had
left that morning for my servant, as I should be glad of his attendance.
Being an adroit fellow, I judged he might be of service to me in
gaining some intelligence about the damsels in question: but I was very
near never wanting him again; for, a fever coming on, I was for some
days hovering over the grave. A good constitution at last got the
better, and I had nothing to combat but my broken limb, which was in a
fair way. I had a most excellent nurse, a house-keeper in the family. My
own servant likewise waited on me. Mr. Grenville spent a part of every
day with me; and his agreeable conversation, though rather too grave for
a fellow of my fire, afforded me great comfort during my confinement:
yet still something was wanting, till I could hear news of my charming
wood-nymphs.
One morning I strove to make my old nurse talk, and endeavoured to draw
her out; she seemed a little shy. I asked her a number of questions
about my generous entertainer; she rung a peal in his praise. I then
asked if there were any pretty girls in the neighbourhood, as I was a
great admirer of beauty. She laughed, and told me not to let my thoughts
wander that way yet a while; I was yet too weak. "Not to talk of beauty,
my old girl," said I. "Aye, aye," she answered, "but you look as if
talking would not content you." I then told her, I had seen the
loveliest girl in the world among the Welsh mountains, not far from
hence, who I found was acquainted with this family, and I would reward
her handsomely if she could procure me an interview with her, when she
should judge I was able to talk of love in a proper style. I then
described the girls I had seen, and freely confessed the impression one
of them had made on me. "As sure as you are alive," said the old cat,
"it was my daughter you saw." "Your daughter!" I exclaimed, "is it
possible for your daughter to be such an angel?" "Good lack! why not?
What, because I am poor, and a servant, my daughter is not to be flesh
and blood."
"By heaven! but she is," said I, "and such flesh and blood, that I would
give a thousand pounds to take her to town with me. What say you,
mother; will you let me see her?" "I cannot tell," said she, shaking her
head: "To be sure my girl is handsome, and might make her fortune in
town; for she's as virtuous as she's poor." "I promise you," said I, "if
she is not foolish enough to be too scrupulous about one, I will take
care to remove the other. But, when shall I see her?" "Lord! you must
not be in such a hurry: all in good time." With this assurance, and
these hopes, I was constrained to remain satisfied for some time: though
the old wench every now and then would flatter my passions by extolling
the charms of her daughter; and above all, commending her sweet
compliant disposition; a circumstance I thought in my favour, as it
would render my conquest less arduous. I occasionally asked her of the
family whom she served. She seemed rather reserved on this subject,
though copious enough on any other. She informed me, however, that Mr.
Grenville had two daughters; but no more to be compared with her's, than
she was; and that, as soon as I was able to quit my bed-chamber, they
would be introduced to me.
As my strength increased, my talkative nurse grew more eloquent in the
praises of her child; and by those praises inflamed my passion to the
highest pitch. I thought every day an age till I again beheld her;
resolving to begin my attack as soon as possible, and indulging the
idea, that my task would, through the intervention of the mother, be
carried on with great facility. Thus I wiled away the time when I was
left to myself. Yet, notwithstanding I recovered most amazingly fast
considering my accident, I thought the confinement plaguy tedious, and
was heartily glad when my surgeon gave me permission to be conveyed
into a dressing-room. On the second day of my emigration from my
bed-chamber, Mr. Grenville informed me he would bring me acquainted with
the rest of his family. I assured him I should receive such an
indulgence as a mark of his unexampled politeness and humanity, and
should endeavor to be grateful for such favour. I now attained the
height of my wishes; and at the same time sustained a sensible and
mortifying disappointment: for, in the afternoon, Mr. Grenville entered
the room, and in either hand one of the lovely girls I had seen, and who
were the primary cause of my accident. I attained the summit of my
wishes in again beholding my charmer; but when she was introduced under
the character of daughter to my host, my fond hopes were instantly
crushed. How could I be such a villain as to attempt the seduction of
the daughter of a man to whom I was bound by so many ties? This
reflection damped the joy which flushed in my face when I first saw her.
I paid my compliments to the fair sisters with an embarrassment in my
air not usual to a man of the world; but which, however, was not
perceptible to my innocent companions. They talked over my adventure,
and congratulated my recovery with so much good-nature as endeared them
both to me, at the same time that I inwardly cursed the charms that
enslaved me. Upon the whole, I do not know whether pain or pleasure was
predominant through the course of the day; but I found I loved her more
and more every moment. Uncertain what my resolves or intentions were, I
took my leave of them, and returned to my room with matter for
reflection sufficient to keep me waking the best part of the night. My
old tabby did not administer a sleeping potion to me, by the
conversation I had with her afterwards on the subject in debate.
"Well, Sir," she asked, "how do you like my master's daughters?" "Not so
well as I should your daughter, I can tell you. What the devil did you
mean by your cursed long harangues about her beauty, when you knew all
the while she was not attainable?" "Why not? she is disengaged; is of a
family and rank in life to do any man credit; and you are enamoured of
her." "True; but I have no inclination to marry."
"And you cannot hope to succeed on any other terms, even if you could
form the plan of dishonouring the daughter of a man of some consequence
in the world, and one who has shewn you such kindness!"
"Your sagacity happens to be right in your conjecture."
"But you would have had no scruples of conscience in your design on _my_
daughter."
"Not much, I confess; money well applied would have silenced the world,
and I should have left it to her and your prudence to have done the
rest."
"And do you suppose, Sir," said she, "that the honour of my daughter is
not as valuable to me, because I am placed so much below you, as that of
the daughter of the first man in the world? Had this been my child, and,
by the various artifices you might have put in practice, you had
triumphed over her virtue, do you suppose, I say, a little paltry dross
would have been a recompence? No, sir, know me better than to believe
any worldly advantages would have silenced my wrongs. My child, thank
heaven, is virtuous, and far removed from the danger of meeting with
such as I am sorry to find you are; one, who would basely rob the poor
of the only privilege they possess, that of being innocent, while you
cowardly shrink at the idea of attacking a woman, who, in the eye of a
venal world, has a sufficient fortune to varnish over the loss of
reputation. I confess I knew not the depravity of your heart, till the
other day, I by accident heard part of a conversation between you and
your servant; before that, I freely own, though I thought you not so
strict in your morals as I hoped, yet I flattered myself your principles
were not corrupted, but imputed the warmth of your expressions to youth,
and a life unclouded by misfortune. I further own, I was delighted with
the impression which my young lady had made on you. I fancied your
passion disinterested, because you knew not her situation in life; but
now I know you too well to suffer her to entertain a partiality for one
whose sentiments are unworthy a man of honour, and who can never esteem
virtue though in her loveliest form."
"Upon my soul! mother," cried I, (affecting an air of gaiety in my
manner, which was foreign to my heart, for I was cursedly chagrined),
"you have really a fine talent for preaching; why what a delectable
sermon have you delivered against _simple fornication_. But come, come,
we must not be enemies. I assure you, with the utmost sincerity, I am
not the sad dog you think me. I honour and revere virtue even in you,
who, you must be sensible, are rather too advanced in life for a Venus,
though I doubt not in your youth you made many a Welsh heart dance
without a harp. Come, I see you are not so angry as you were. Have a
little compassion on a poor young fellow, who cannot, if he wishes it,
run away from your frowns. I am tied by the leg, you know, my old girl.
But to tell you the serious truth, the cause of the air of
dissatisfaction which I wore, was, my apprehension of not having merit
to gain the only woman that ever made any impression on my heart; and
likewise my fears of your not being my friend, from the ludicrous manner
in which I had before treated this affair."--I added some more
prevailing arguments, and solemnly attested heaven to witness my
innocence of actual seduction, though I had, I confessed with blushes,
indulged in a few fashionable pleasures, which, though they might be
stiled crimes among the Welsh-mountains, were nothing in our world. In
short, I omitted nothing (as you will suppose by the lyes I already told
of my _innocence of actual seduction_, and such stuff--) that I thought
conducive to the conciliating her good opinion, or at least a better
than she seemed to have at present.
When I argued the matter over in my own mind, I knew not on what to
determine. Reflection never agreed with me: I hate it confoundedly--It
brings with it a consumed long string of past transactions, that _bore_
me to death, and is worse than a fit of the hypochondriac. I endeavored
to lose my disagreeable companion in the _arms_ of sleep; but the devil
a bit: the idea of the raptures I should taste in those of my lovely
Julia's, drove the drowsy God from my eye-lids--yet my pleasurable
sensations were damped by the enormous purchase I must in all
probability pay for such a delightful privilege: after examining the
business every way, I concluded it as I do most things which require
mature deliberation, left it to work its way in the best manner it
could, and making chance, the first link in the chain of causes, ruler
of my fate.
I now saw my Julia daily, and the encrease of passion was the
consequence of every interview. You have often told me I was a fellow of
no speculation or thought: I presume to say, that in the point in
question, though you may conceive me running hand over head to
destruction, I have shewn a great deal of fore-thought; and that the
step I have taken is an infallible proof of it. Charming as both you and
I think the lady Betty's and lady Bridget's, and faith have found them
too, I believe neither you nor I ever intended to take any one of them
_for better, for worse;_ yet we have never made any resolution against
entering into the pale of matrimony. Now though I like a little
_badinage_, and sometimes something more, with a married woman--I would
much rather that my wife, like Cæsar's, should not be suspected: where
then is it so likely to meet with a woman of real virtue as in the lap
of innocence? The women of our world marry, that they may have the
greater privilege for leading dissipated lives. Knowing them so well as
I do, I could have no chance of happiness with one of their class--and
yet one must one time or other "settle soberly and raise a brood."--And
why not now, while every artery beats rapidly, and nature is alive?
However, it does not signify bringing this argument, or that, to justify
my procedure; I could not act otherwise than I have done. I was mad,
absolutely dying for her. By heaven! I never saw so many beauties under
one form. There is not a limb or feature which I have not adored in as
many different women; here, they are all assembled with the greatest
harmony: and yet she wants the polish of the world: a _je ne sçai quoi_,
a _tout ensemble_, which nothing but mixing with people of fashion can
give: but, as she is extremely docile, I have hopes that she will not
disgrace the name of Stanley.
Shall I whisper you a secret--but publish it not in the streets of
Askalon--I could almost wish my whole life had passed in the same
innocent tranquil manner it has now for several weeks. No tumultuous
thoughts, which, as they are too often excited by licentious excess,
must be lost and drowned in wine. No cursed qualms of conscience, which
will appall the most hardy of us, when nature sickens after the fatigue
of a debauch. Here all is peaceful, because all is innocent: and yet
what voluptuary can figure a higher joy than I at present experience in
the possession of the most lovely of her sex, who thinks it her duty to
contribute to my pleasure, and whose every thought I can read in her
expressive countenance? Oh! that I may ever see her with the same eyes I
do at this moment! Why cannot I renounce a world, the ways of which I
have seen and despise from my soul? What attachments have I to it,
guilty ones excepted? Ought I to continue them, when I have sworn--Oh!
Christ! what is come to me now? can a virtuous connexion with the sex
work miracles? but you cannot inform me--having never made such: and who
the devil can, till they marry--and then it is too late: the die is
cast.
I hope you will thank me for making you my confidant--and, what is more,
writing you so enormous a long letter. Most likely I shall enhance your
obligation by continuing my correspondence, as I do not know when I
shall quit, what appears to me, my earthly paradise. Whether you will
congratulate me from your heart I know not, because you may possibly
imagine, from some virtuous emanations which have burst forth in the
course of this epistle, that you shall lose your old companion. No, no,
not quite so bad neither--though I am plaguy squeamish at present, a
little town air will set all to rights again, and I shall no doubt fall
into my old track with redoubled alacrity from this recess. So don't
despair, my old friend: you will always find me,
Your lordship's devoted,
W. STANLEY.
LETTER II.
TO THE SAME.
What a restless discontented animal is man! Even in Paradise unblest. Do
you know I am, though surrounded with felicity, languishing for _sin and
sea-coal_ in your regions. I shall be vapoured to death if I stay here
much longer. Here is nothing to exercise the bright genius with which I
am endued: all one calm sunshine;
"And days of peace do still succeed
To nights of calm repose."
How unfit to charm a soul like mine! I, who love every thing that the
moderns call pleasure. I must be amongst you, and that presently. My
Julia, I am certain, will make no resistance to my will. Faith! she is
the wife for me. Mild, passive, duteous, and innocent: I may lead my
life just as I please; and she, dear creature! will have no idea but
that I am a very good husband!
"And when I am weary of wandering all day,
To thee, my delight, in the evening I, come."
I did intend, when first I began my correspondence with your lordship,
to have informed you of the whole process of this affair; but, upon my
soul, you must excuse me. From being idle, I am become perfectly
indolent;--besides, it is unfashionable to talk so much of one's wife. I
shall only say, I endeavoured, by all those little attentions which are
so easily assumed by us, to gain her affections,--and at the same time,
to make sure work, declared myself in form to her father.
One day, when I could hobble about, I took occasion to say to Mr.
Grenville, that I was meditating a return for his civilities, which was
no other than running away with his daughter Julia: that, in the whole
course of my life, I had never seen a woman whom I thought so capable of
making me happy; and that, were my proposals acceptable to him and her,
it would be my highest felicity to render her situation such. I saw the
old man was inwardly pleased.--In very polite terms he assured me, he
should have no objection to such an alliance, if Julia's heart made
none; that although, for very particular reasons, he had quarreled with
the world, he did not wish to seclude his children from partaking of its
pleasures. He owned, he thought Julia seemed to have an inclination to
see more of it than he had had an opportunity of shewing her; and that,
as he had for ever renounced it, there was no protector, after a father,
so proper as a husband. He then paid me some compliments, which perhaps,
had his acquaintance been of as long standing as yours and mine, he
might have thought rather above my desert: but he knows no more of me
than he has heard from me,--and the devil is in it, if a man won't speak
well of himself when he has an opportunity.
It was some time before I could bring myself to the pious resolution of
marrying.--I was extremely desirous of practising a few manœuvres
first, just to try the strength of the citadel;--but madam house-keeper
would have blown me up. "You are in love with my master's daughter,"
said she, one day, to me; "if you make honourable proposals, I have not
a doubt but they will be accepted;--if I find you endeavouring to gain
her heart in a clandestine manner,--remember you are in my power. My
faithful services in this family have given me some influence, and I
will certainly use it for their advantage. The best and loveliest of her
sex shall not be left a prey to the artful insinuating practices of a
man too well versed in the science of deceit. Marry her; she will do you
honour in this world, and by her virtues ensure your happiness in the
next."
I took the old matron's advice, as it so perfectly accorded with my own
wishes. The gentle Julia made no objection.--Vanity apart, I certainly
have some attractions; especially in the eyes of an innocent young
creature, who yet never saw a reasonable being besides her father; and
who had likewise a secret inclination to know a little how things go in
the world. I shall very soon gratify her wish, by taking her to
London.--I am sick to death of the constant _routine_ of circumstances
here--_the same to-day, to-morrow, and forever_. Your mere good kind of
people are really very insipid sort of folks; and as such totally
unsuited to my taste. I shall therefore leave them to their pious
meditations in a short time, and whirl my little Julia into the giddy
circle, where alone true joy is to be met with.
I shall not invite her sister to accompany her; as I have an invincible
dislike to the idea of marrying a whole family. Besides, sisters
sometimes are more quick-sighted than wives: and I begin to think
(though from whence she has gained her knowledge I know not, I hope
honestly!) that Louisa is mistress of more penetration than my
_rib_.--She is more serious, consequently more observing and attentive.
Sylph is fixed on.--Our _suite_ will be a Welsh _fille de chambre_,
yclep'd Winifred, and an old male domestick, who at present acts in
capacity of groom to me, and who I foresee will soon be the butt of my
whole house;--as he is chiefly composed of Welsh materials, I conclude
we shall have fine work with him among our _beaux d'esprits_ of the
motley tribe.--I shall leave Taffy to work his way as he can. Let every
one fight their own battles I say.--I hate to interfere in any kind of
business. I burn with impatience to greet you and the rest of your
confederates. Assure them of my best wishes.--I was going to say
services,--but alas! I am not my own master! I am married. After that,
may I venture to conclude myself your's?
W. STANLEY.
LETTER III.
TO Miss GRENVILLE.
How strange does it seem, my dearest Louisa, to address you at this
distance! What is it that has supported me through this long journey,
and given me strength to combat with all the softer feelings; to quit a
respectable parent and a beloved sister; to leave such dear and tender
relations, and accompany a man to whom four months since I was wholly a
stranger! I am a wretched reasoner at best.--I am therefore at a loss to
unravel this mystery. It is true, it became my duty to follow my
husband; but that a duty so newly entered into should supersede all
others is certainly strange. You will say, you wonder these thoughts did
not arise sooner;--they did, my dear; but the continual agitation of my
spirits since I married, prevented my paying any attention to them.
Perhaps, those who have been accustomed to the bustles of the world
would laugh at my talking of the agitation of spirits in the course of
an affair which was carried on with the most methodical exactness; but
then it is their being accustomed to bustles, which could insure their
composure on such an important occasion. I am young and
inexperienced--and what is worst of all, a perfect stranger to the
disposition of Sir William. He may be a very good sort of man; yet he
may have some faults, which are at present unknown to me.--I am
resolved, however, to be as indulgent to them as possible, should I
discover any.--And as for my own, I will strive to conceal them, under
an implicit obedience to his will and pleasure.
As to giving you an account of this hurrying place, it is totally out of
my power. I made Sir William laugh very heartily several times at my
ignorance. We came into town at a place called Piccadilly, where there
was such a croud of carriages of all sorts, that I was perfectly
astonished, and absolutely frightened. I begged Sir William would order
the drivers to stop till they were gone by.--This intreaty threw him
almost into a convulsion of laughter at my simplicity; but I was still
more amazed, when he told me, they would continue driving with the same
vehemence all night. For my part, I could not hear my own voice for the
continual rattle of coaches, &c.--I still could not help thinking it
must be some particular rejoicing day, from the immense concourse of
people I saw rushing from all quarters;--and yet Sir William assured me
the town was very empty. "Mercy defend us!" cried Winifred, when I
informed her what her master had said, "what a place must it be when it
is full, for the people have not room to walk as it is!" I cautioned
Win, to discover her ignorance as little as possible;--but I doubt both
mistress and maid will be subjects of mirth for some time to come.
I have not yet seen any thing, as there is a ceremony to be observed
among people of rank in this place. No married lady can appear in public
till she has been properly introduced to their majesties. Alas! what
will become of me upon an occasion so singular!--Sir William has been so
obliging as to bespeak the protection of a lady, who is perfect mistress
of the _etiquettes_ of courts. She will pay me a visit previous to my
introduction; and under her tuition, I am told, I have nothing to fear.
All my hopes are, that I may acquit myself so as to gain the approbation
of my husband. Husband! what a sound has that, when pronounced by a girl
barely seventeen,--and one whose knowledge of the world is merely
speculative;--one, who, born and bred in obscurity, is equally
unacquainted with men and manners.--I have often revolved in my mind
what could be the inducement of my father's total seclusion from the
world; for what little hints I (and you, whose penetration is deeper
than mine) could gather, have only served to convince us, he must have
been extremely ill treated by it, to have been constrained to make a vow
never again to enter into it,--and in my mind the very forming of a vow
looks as if he had loved it to excess, and therefore made his retreat
from it more solemn than a bare resolution, lest he might, from a change
of circumstances or sentiments, again be seduced by its attractions, and
by which he had suffered so much.
Do you know, I have formed the wish of knowing some of those incidents
in his history which have governed his actions? will you, my dear
Louisa, hint this to him? He may, by such a communication, be very
serviceable to me, who am such a novice.
I foresee I shall stand in need of instructors; otherwise I shall make
but an indifferent figure in the drama. Every thing, and every body,
makes an appearance so widely opposite to my former notions, that I find
myself every moment at a loss, and know not to whom to apply for
information. I am apprehensive I shall tire Sir William to death with my
interrogatories; besides, he gave me much such a hint as I gave Win, not
to betray my ignorance to every person I met with; and yet, without
asking questions, I shall never attain the knowledge of some things
which to me appear extremely singular. The ideas I possessed while among
the mountains seem intirely useless to me here. Nay, I begin to think, I
might as well have learnt nothing; and that the time and expence which
were bestowed on my education were all lost, since I even do not know
how to walk a minuet properly. Would you believe it? Sir William has
engaged a dancing-master to put me into a genteel and polite method of
acquitting myself with propriety on the important circumstance of moving
about a room gracefully. Shall I own I felt myself mortified when he
made the proposition? I could even have shed tears at the humiliating
figure I made in my own eyes; however, I had resolution to overcome such
an appearance of weakness, and turned it off with a smile, saying, "I
thought I had not stood in need of any accomplishments, since I had had
sufficient to gain his affections." I believe he saw I was hurt, and
therefore took some pains to re-assure me. He told me, "that though my
person was faultless, yet, from my seclusion from it, I wanted an air of
the world. He himself saw nothing but perfection in me; but he wished
those, who were not blinded by passion, should think me not only the
most beautiful, but likewise the most polished woman at court." Is there
not a little vanity in this, Louisa? But Sir William is, I find, a man
of the world; and it is my duty to comply with every thing he judges
proper, to make me what he chuses.
Monsieur Fierville pays me great compliments. "Who is he?" you will ask.
Why my dancing-master, my dear. I am likewise to take some lessons on
the harpsichord, as Sir William finds great fault with my fingering, and
thinks I want taste in singing. I always looked on taste as genuine and
inherent to ourselves; but here, taste is to be acquired; and what is
infinitely more astonishing still, it is variable. So, though I may
dance and sing in taste now, a few months hence I may have another
method to learn, which will be the taste then. It is a fine time for
teachers, when scholars are never taught. We used to think, to be made
perfect mistress of any thing was sufficient; but in this world it is
very different; you have a fresh lesson to learn every winter. As a
proof, they had last winter one of the first singers in the world at the
opera-house; this winter they had one who surpassed her. This assertion
you and I should think nonsense, since, according to our ideas, nothing
can exceed perfection: the next who comes over will be superior to all
others that ever arrived. The reason is, every one has a different mode
of singing; a taste of their own, which by arbitrary custom is for that
cause to be the taste of the whole town. These things appear
incomprehensible to me; but I suppose use will reconcile me to them, as
it does others, by whom they must once have been thought strange.
I think I can discover Sir William Stanley has great pride, that is, he
is a slave to fashion. He is ambitious of being a leading man. His
house, his equipage, and wife--in short, every thing which belongs to
him must be admired; and I can see, he is not a little flattered when
they meet with approbation, although from persons of whose taste and
knowledge of life he has not the most exalted idea.
It would look very ungrateful in me, if I was to make any complaints
against my situation; and yet would it not be more so to my father and
you, if I was not to say, I was happier whilst with you? I certainly
was. I will do Sir William the justice to say, he contributed to make my
last two months residence very pleasant. He was the first lover I ever
had, at least the first that ever told me he loved. The distinction he
paid me certainly made some impression on my heart. Every female has a
little vanity; but I must enlarge my stock before I can have a proper
confidence in myself in this place.
My singing-master has just been announced. He is a very great man in his
way, so I must not make him wait; besides, my letter is already a pretty
reasonable length. Adieu, my dearest sister! say every thing duteous
and affectionate for me to my father; and tell yourself that I am ever
your's,
JULIA STANLEY.
LETTER IV.
TO Colonel MONTAGUE.
Dear JACK,
I was yesterday introduced to the loveliest woman in the universe;
Stanley's wife. Yes, that happy dog is still the favourite of Fortune.
How does he triumph over me on every occasion! If he had a soul of
worth, what a treasure would he possess in such an angel! but he will
soon grow tired even of her. What immense pains did he take to supplant
me in the affections of Lucy Gardner, though he has since sworn to you
and many others he proposed no other advantage to himself than rivaling
me, and conquering her prejudices in my favour. He thinks I have forgot
all this, because I did not call him to an account for his ungenerous
conduct, and because I still style him my friend; but let him have a
care; my revenge only slept till a proper opportunity called it forth.
As to retaliating, by endeavouring to obtain any of his mistresses, that
was too trivial a satisfaction for me, as he is too phlegmatic to be
hurt by such an attempt. I flatter myself, I shall find an opening by
and by, to convince him I have neither forgotten the injury, or am of a
temper to let slip an occasion of piercing his heart by a method
effectual and secure. Men, who delight to disturb the felicity of
others, are most tenacious of their own. And Stanley, who has allowed
himself such latitude of intrigue in other men's families, will very
sensibly feel any stain on his. But of this in future; let me return to
Lady Stanley. She is not a perfect beauty: which, if you are of my
taste, you will think rather an advantage than not; as there is
generally a formality in great regularity of features, and most times
an insipidity. In her there are neither. She is in one word _animated
nature_. Her height is proper, and excellently well proportioned; I
might say, exquisitely formed. Her figure is such, as at once creates
esteem, and gives birth to the tenderest desires. Stanley seemed to take
pleasure in my commendations. "I wanted you to see her, my Lord," said
he: "you are a man of taste. May I introduce Julia, without blushing
through apprehension of her disgracing me? You know my sentiments. I
must be applauded by the world; lovely as I yet think her, she would be
the object of my hate, and I should despise myself, if she is not
admired by the whole court; it is the only apology I can make to myself
for marrying at all." What a brute of a fellow it is! I suppose he must
be cuckolded by half the town, to be convinced his wife has charms.
Lady Stanley is extremely observant of her husband at present, because
he is the only man who has paid her attention; but when she finds she is
the only woman who is distinguished by his indifference, which will soon
be the case, she will likewise see, and be grateful for, the assiduities
paid her by other men. One of the first of those I intend to be. I shall
not let you into the plan of operations at present; besides, it is
impossible, till I know more of my ground, to mark out any scheme.
Chance often performs that for us, which the most judicious reflection
cannot bring about; and I have the whole campaign before me.
I think myself pretty well acquainted with the failings and weak parts
in Stanley; and you may assure yourself I shall avail myself of them. I
do not want penetration; and doubt not, from the free access which I
have gained in the family, but I shall soon be master of the ruling
passion of her ladyship. She is, as yet, a total stranger to the world;
her character is not yet established; she cannot know herself. She only
knows she is handsome; that secret, I presume, Nature has informed her
of. Her husband has confirmed it, and she liked him because she found in
him a coincidence of opinion. But all that rapturous nonsense will, and
must soon, have an end. As to the beauties of mind, he has no more idea
of them, than we have of a sixth sense; what he knows not, he cannot
admire. She will soon find herself neglected; but at the same time she
will find the loss of a husband's praises amply supplied by the
_devoirs_ of a hundred, all equal, and many superior to him. At first,
she may be uneasy; but repeated flattery will soon console her; and the
man who can touch her heart, needs fear nothing. Every thing else, as
Lord Chesterfield justly observes, will then follow of course. By which
assertion, whatever the world may think, he certainly pays a great
compliment to the fair sex. Men may be rendered vicious by a thousand
methods; but there is only one way to subdue women.
Whom do you think he has introduced as _chaperons_ to his wife? Lady
Besford, and Lady Anne Parker. Do not you admire his choice? Oh! they
will be charming associates for her! But I have nothing to say against
it, as I think their counsels will further my schemes. Lady Besford
might not be so much amiss; but Lady Anne! think of her, with whom he is
belied if he has not had an affair. What madness! It is like him,
however. Let him then take the consequences of his folly; and such
clever fellows as you and I the advantage of them. Adieu, dear Jack! I
shall see you, I hope, as soon as you come to town. I shall want you in
a scheme I have in my head, but which I do not think proper to trust to
paper. Your's,
BIDDULPH.
LETTER V.
TO Lady STANLEY.
I have lost you, my Julia; and who shall supply your loss? How much am I
alone! and yet, if you are happy, I must and will be satisfied. I
should, however, be infinitely more so, if you had any companion to
guide your footsteps through the devious path of life: I wish you some
experienced director. Have you not yet made an acquaintance which may be
useful to you? Though you are prevented appearing in public, yet I think
it should have been Sir William's first care to provide you with some
agreeable sensible female friend one who may love you as well as your
Louisa, and may, by having lived in the world, have it more in her power
to be of service to you.
My father misses you as much as I do: I will not repeat all he says,
lest you should think he repents of his complying with Sir William's
importunity. Write to us very often, and tell us you are happy; that
will be the only consolation we can receive in your absence. Oh, this
vow! It binds my father to this spot. Not that I wish to enter into the
world. I doubt faithlessness and insincerity are very prevalent there,
since they could find their way among our mountains. But let me not
overcloud your sunshine. I was, you know, always of a serious turn. May
no accident make you so, since your natural disposition is chearfulness
itself!
I read your letter to my father; he seemed pleased at your wish of being
acquainted with the incidents of his life: he will enter on the task
very soon. There is nothing, he says, which can, from the nature of
things, be a guide to you in your passage through the world, any farther
than not placing too much confidence in the prospect of felicity, with
which you see yourself surrounded; but always to keep in mind, we are
but in a state of probation here, and consequently but for a short time:
that, as our happiness is liable to change, we ought not to prize the
possession so much as to render ourselves miserable when that change
comes; neither, when we are oppressed with the rod of affliction, should
we sink into despair, as we are certain our woe, like ourselves, is
mortal. Receive the blessing of our only parent, joined with the
affectionate love of a tender sister. Adieu!
LOUISA GRENVILLE
LETTER VI.
To JAMES SPENCER, Esq.
It is high time, my dear Spencer, to account to you for the whimsical
journey, as you called it, which your friend undertook so suddenly. I
meant not to keep that, or even my motives for it, a secret from you.
The esteem you have ever shewn me merited my most unlimited confidence.
You said, you thought I must have some other view than merely to visit
the ruins of a paternal estate, lost to me by the extravagant folly of
my poor father. You said true; I had indeed some other view; but alas!
how blasted is that view! Long had my heart cherished the fondest
attachment for the loveliest and best of human beings, who inhabited the
mountains, which once my father owned. My fortune was too circumscribed
to disclose my flame; but I secretly indulged it, from the remote hope
of having it one day in my power to receive her hand without blushing at
my inferiority in point of wealth. These thoughts, these wishes, have
supported me through an absence of two years from my native land, and
all that made my native land dear to me.
Her loved idea heightened every joy I received, and softened every care.
I knew I possessed her esteem; but I never, from the first of my
acquaintance, gave the least hint of what I felt for, or hoped from,
her. I should have thought myself base in the highest degree, to have
made an interest in her bosom, which I had nothing to support on my side
but the sanguine wishes of youth, that some turn of Fortune's wheel
might be in my favour. You know how amply, as well as unexpectedly, I am
now provided for by our dear Frederic's death. How severely have I felt
and mourned his loss! But he is happier than in any situation which our
friendship for him could have found.
I could run any lengths in praising one so dear to me; but he was
equally so to you, and you are fully acquainted with my sentiments on
this head; besides, I have something more to the purpose at present to
communicate to you.