was, to share it with my love. Nothing but that hope and prospect could
have enabled me to sustain the death of my friend. In the bosom of my
Julia I fondly hoped to experience those calm delights which his loss
deprived me of for some time. Alas! that long-indulged hope is sunk in
despair! Oh! my Spencer! she's lost, lost to me for ever! Yet what right
had I to think she would not be seen, and, being seen, admired, loved,
and courted? But, from the singularity of her father's disposition, who
had vowed never to mix in the world;--a disappointment of the tenderest
kind which her elder sister had met with, and the almost monastic
seclusion from society in which she lived, joined to her extreme youth,
being but seventeen the day I left you in London: all these
circumstances, I say, concurred once to authorize my fond hopes,--and
these hopes have nursed my despair. Oh! I knew not how much I loved her,
till I saw her snatched from me for ever. A few months sooner, and I
might have pleaded some merit with the lovely maid from my long and
unremitted attachment. My passion was interwoven with my
existence,--with that it grew, and with that only will expire.
"My dear-lov'd Julia! from my youth began
The tender flame, and ripen'd in the man;
My dear-lov'd Julia! to my latest age,
No other vows shall e'er my heart engage."
Full of the fond ideas which seemed a part of myself, I flew down to
Woodley-vale, to reap the long-expected harvest of my hopes.--Good God!
what was the fatal news I learnt on my arrival! Alas! she knew not of my
love and constancy;--she had a few weeks before given her hand, and no
doubt her heart, to Sir William Stanley, with whom an accident had
brought her acquainted. I will not enlarge upon what were my feelings on
this occasion.--Words would be too faint a vehicle to express the
anguish of my soul. You, who know the tenderness of my disposition, must
judge for me.
Yesterday I saw the dear angel, from the inn from whence I am writing;
she and her happy husband stopped here for fresh horses. I had a full
view of her beauteous face. Ah! how much has two years improved each
charm in her lovely person! lovely and charming, but not for me. I kept
myself concealed from her--I could hardly support the sight of her at a
distance; my emotions were more violent than you can conceive. Her dress
became her the best in the world; a riding habit of stone-coloured
cloth, lined with rose-colour, and frogs of the same--the collar of her
shirt was open at the neck, and discovered her lovely ivory throat. Her
hair was in a little disorder, which, with her hat, served to contribute
to, and heighten, the almost irresistible charms of her features. There
was a pensiveness in her manner, which rendered her figure more
interesting and touching than usual. I thought I discovered the traces
of a tear on her cheek. She had just parted with her father and sister;
and, had she shewn less concern, I should not have been so satisfied
with her. I gazed till my eye-balls ached; but, when the chaise drove
from the door--oh! what then became of me! "She's gone! she's gone!" I
exclaimed aloud, wringing my hands, "and never knew how much I loved
her!" I was almost in a state of madness for some hours--at last, my
storm of grief and despair a little subsided, and I, by degrees, became
calm and more resigned to my ill fate. I took the resolution, which I
shall put in execution as soon as possible, to leave England. I will
retire to the remaining part of my Frederic's family--and, in their
friendship, seek to forget the pangs which an habitual tenderness has
brought upon me.
You, who are at ease, may have it in your power to convey some small
satisfaction to my wounded breast. But why do I say _small
satisfaction_? To me it will be the highest to hear that my Julia is
happy. Do you then, my dear Spencer, enquire, among your acquaintance,
the character of this Sir William Stanley. His figure is genteel, nay,
rather handsome; yet he does not look the man I could wish for her. I
did not discover that look of tenderness, that soft impassioned glance,
which virtuous love excites; but you will not expect a favourable
picture from a rival's pen.
I mentioned a disappointment which the sister of my Julia had sustained:
it was just before I left England. While on a visit at Abergavenny, she
became acquainted with a young gentleman of fortune, who, after taking
some pains to render himself agreeable, had the satisfaction of gaining
the affections of one of the most amiable girls in the world. She is all
that a woman can be, except being my Julia. Louisa was at that time
extremely attached to a lady in the same house with her, who was by no
means a favourite with her lover. They used frequently to have little
arguments concerning her. He would not allow her any merit. Louisa
fancied she saw her own image reflected in the bosom of her friend. She
is warm in her attachments. Her zeal for her friend at last awakened a
curiosity in her lover, to view her with more scrutiny. He had been
accustomed to pay an implicit obedience to Louisa's opinion; he fancied
he was still acquiescing only in that opinion when he began to discover
she was handsome, and to find some farther beauties which Louisa had not
painted in so favourable a light as he now saw them. In short, what at
first was only a compliment to his mistress, now seemed the due of the
other. He thought Louisa had hardly done her justice; and in seeking to
repair that fault, he injured the woman who doated on him. Love, which
in some cases is blind, is in others extremely quick-sighted. Louisa saw
a change in his behaviour--a studied civility--an apprehension of not
appearing sufficiently assiduous--frequent expressions of fearing to
offend--and all those mean arts and subterfuges which a man uses, who
wants to put in a woman's power to break with him, that he may basely
shelter himself behind, what he styles, her cruelty. Wounded to the soul
with the duplicity of his conduct, she, one day, insisted on knowing the
motives which induced him to act in so disingenuous a manner by her. At
first his answers were evasive; but she peremptorily urged an explicit
satisfaction. She told him, the most unfavourable certainty would be
happiness to what she now felt, and that _certainty_ she now called on
him in justice to grant her. He then began by palliating the fatal
inconstancy of his affections, by the encomiums which she had bestowed
on her friend; that his love for her had induced him to love those dear
to her; and some unhappy circumstances had arisen, which had bound him
to her friend, beyond his power or inclination to break through. This
disappointment, in so early a part of Louisa's life, has given a
tenderness to her whole frame, which is of advantage to most women, and
her in particular. She has, I question not, long since beheld this
unworthy wretch in the light he truly deserved; yet, no doubt, it was
not till she had suffered many pangs. The heart will not recover its
usual tone in a short time, that has long been racked with the agonies
of love; and even when we fancy ourselves quite recovered, there is an
aching void, which still reminds us of former anguish.
I shall not be in town these ten days at least, as I find I can be
serviceable to a poor man in this neighbourhood, whom I believe to be an
object worthy attention. Write me, therefore, what intelligence you can
obtain; and scruple not to communicate the result of your inquiry to me
speedily. Her happiness is the wish next my heart. Oh! may it be as
exalted and as permanent as I wish it! I will not say any thing to you;
you well know how dear you are to the bosom of your
HENRY WOODLEY.
LETTER VII.
TO HENRY WOODLEY, Esq.
No, my dear Harry, I can never consent to your burying yourself abroad;
but I will not say all I could on that subject till we meet. I think, I
shall then be able to offer you some very powerful reasons, that you
will esteem sufficient to induce you to remain in your native land.--I
have a scheme in my head, but which I shall not communicate at present.
Sir William Stanley is quite a man of fashion.--Do you know enough of
the world to understand all that title comprehends? If you do, you will
sincerely regret your Julia is married to _a man of fashion_. His
passions are the rule and guide of his actions. To what mischiefs is a
young creature exposed in this town, circumstanced as Lady Stanley
is--without a friend or relation with her to point out the artful and
designing wretch, who means to make a prey of her innocence and
inexperience of life!
The most unsafe and critical situation for a woman, is to be young,
handsome, and married to a man of fashion; these are thought to be
lawful prey to the specious of our sex. As a man of fashion, Sir William
Stanley would blush to be found too attentive to his wife;--he will
leave her to seek what companions chance may throw in her way, while he
is associating with rakes of quality, and glorying in those scenes in
which to be discovered he should really blush. I am told he is fond of
deep play--attaches himself to women of bad character, and seeks to
establish an opinion, that he is quite the _ton_ in every thing. I
tremble for your Julia.--Her beauty, if she had no other merit, making
her fashionable, will induce some of those wretches, who are ever upon
the watch to ensnare the innocent, to practice their diabolical
artifices to poison her mind. She will soon see herself neglected by her
husband,--and that will be the signal for them to begin their
attack.--She is totally unhackneyed in the ways of men, and consequently
can form no idea of the extreme depravity of their hearts. May the
innate virtue of her mind be her guide and support!--but to escape with
honour and reputation will be a difficult task. I must see you, Harry. I
have something in my mind. I have seen more of the world than you
have.--For a whole year I was witness of the disorder of this great
town, and, with blushes I write, have too frequently joined in some of
its extravagances and follies; but, thank heaven! my eyes were opened
before my morals became corrupt, or my fortune and constitution
impaired.--Your virtue and my Frederic's confirmed me in the road I was
then desirous of pursuing,--and I am now convinced I shall never deviate
from the path of rectitude.
I expect you in town with all the impatience of a friend zealous for
your happiness and advantage: but I wish not to interfere with any
charitable or virtuous employment.--When you have finished your affairs,
remember your faithful
J. SPENCER.
LETTER VIII.
TO Miss GRENVILLE.
Surrounded with mantua-makers, milliners, and hair-dressers, I blush to
say I have hardly time to bestow on my dear Louisa. What a continual
bustle do I live in, without having literally any thing to do! All these
wonderful preparations are making for my appearance at court; and, in
consequence of that, my visiting all the places of public amusement. I
foresee my head will be turned with this whirl of folly, I am inclined
to call it, in contradiction to the opinion of mankind.--If the people I
am among are of any character at all, I may comprise it in few words: to
me they seem to be running about all the morning, and throwing away
time, in concerting measures to throw away more in the evening. Then, as
to dress, to give an idea of that, I must reverse the line of an old
song.
"What was our _shame_, is now our _pride_."
I have had a thousand patterns of silks brought me to make choice, and
such colours as yet never appeared in a rainbow. A very elegant man, one
of Sir William's friends I thought, was introduced to me the other
morning.--I was preparing to receive him as a visitor; when taking out
his pocket-book, he begged I would do him the honour to inspect some of
the most fashionable patterns, and of the newest taste. He gave me a
list of their names as he laid them on the cuff of his coat. This you
perhaps will think unnecessary; and that, as colours affect the visual
orb the same in different people, I might have been capable of
distinguishing blue from red, and so on; but the case is quite
otherwise; there are no such colours now. "This your ladyship will find
extremely becoming,--it is _la cheveaux de la Regne_;--but the _colour
de puce_ is esteemed before it, and mixed with _d'Artois_, forms the
most elegant assemblage in the world; the _Pont sang_ is immensely rich;
but to suit your ladyship's complexion, I would rather recommend the
_feuile mort_, or _la noysette_." Fifty others, equally unintelligible,
he ran off with the utmost facility. I thought, however, so important a
point should be determined by wiser heads than mine;--therefore
requested him to leave them with me, as I expelled some ladies on whose
taste I had great reliance. As I cannot be supposed from the nature of
things to judge for myself with any propriety, I shall leave the choice
of my cloaths to Lady Besford and Lady Anne Parker, two ladies who have
visited me, and are to be my protectors in public.
I was extremely shocked, when I sent for a mantua-maker, to find a man
was to perform that office. I even refused a long time to admit him near
me--and thinking myself perfectly safe that I should have him on my
side, appealed to Sir William. He laughed at my ridiculous scruples, as
he called them, and farther told me, "custom justified every thing;
nothing was indecent or otherwise, but as it was the _ton_." I was
silent, but neither satisfied or pleased,--and submitted, I believe,
with but an ill grace.
Lady Besford was so extremely polite to interest herself in every thing
concerning my making a fashionable appearance, and procured for me a
French frizeur of the last importation, who dressed hair to a miracle,
_au dernier gout_. I believe, Louisa, I must send you a dictionary of
polite phrases, or you will be much at a loss, notwithstanding you have
a pretty competent knowledge of the French tongue. I blush twenty times
a day at my own stupidity,--and then Sir William tells me, "it is so
immensely _bore_ to blush;" which makes me blush ten times more, because
I don't understand what he means by that expression, and I am afraid to
discover my ignorance; and he has not patience to explain every
ambiguous word he uses, but cries, shrugging up his shoulders, _ah! quel
savage_! and then composes his ruffled spirits by humming an Italian
air.
* * * * *
Well, but I must tell you what my dress was, in which I was presented.
My gown was a silver tissue, trimmed with silver net, and tied up with
roses, as large as life, I was going to say. Indeed it was very
beautiful, and so it ought, for it came to a most enormous sum. My
jewels are _magnifique_, and in immense quantities. Do you know, I could
not find out half their purposes, or what I should do with them; for
such things I never saw. What should poor Win and I have done by
ourselves?--Lady Besford talked of sending her woman to assist me in
dressing.--I told her I had a servant, to whom I had been accustomed for
a long time.--"Ah! for heaven's sake, my dear creature!" exclaimed my
husband, "don't mention the _tramontane_. She might do tolerably well
for the Welsh mountains, but she will cut a most _outré_ figure in the
_beau monde_. I beg you will accept of Lady Besford's polite offer, till
you can provide yourself with a _fille de chambre_, that knows on which
side her right hand hangs." Alas! poor Winifred Jones! Her mistress, I
doubt, has but few advantages over her. Lady Besford was lavish in the
encomiums of her woman, who had had the honour of being dresser to one
of the actresses many years.
Yesterday morning the grand task of my decoration was to commence. Ah!
good Lord! I can hardly recollect particulars.--I am morally convinced
my father would have been looking for his Julia, had he seen me;--and
would have spent much time before he discovered me in the midst of
feathers, flowers, and a thousand gew-gaws beside, too many to
enumerate. I will, if I can, describe my head for your edification, as
it appeared to me when Monsieur permitted me to view myself in the
glass. I was absolutely ready to run from it with fright, like poor
Acteon when he had suffered the displeasure of Diana; and, like him, was
in danger of running my new-acquired ornaments against every thing in my
way.
Monsieur alighted from his chariot about eleven o'clock, and was
immediately announced by Griffith, who, poor soul! stared as if he
thought him one of the finest men in the world. He was attended by a
servant, who brought in two very large caravan boxes, and a number of
other things. Monsieur then prepared to begin his operations.--Sir
William was at that time in my dressing-room. He begged, for God's sake!
"that Monsieur would be so kind as to exert his abilities, as every
thing depended on the just impression my figure made."--Monsieur bowed
and shrugged, just like an overgrown monkey. In a moment I was
overwhelmed with a cloud of powder. "What are you doing? I do not mean
to be powdered," I said. "Not powdered!" repeated Sir William; "why you
would not be so barbarous as to appear without--it positively is not
decent."
"I thought," answered I, "you used to admire the colour of my hair--how
often have you praised its glossy hue! and called me your _nut-brown
maid!_"
"Pho! pho!" said he, blushing, perhaps lest he should be suspected of
tenderness, as that is very vulgar, "I can bear to see a woman without
powder in summer; but now the case is otherwise. Monsieur knows what he
is about. Don't interrupt or dictate to him. I am going to dress. Adieu,
_ma charmante!_"
With a determination of being passive, I sat down under his
hands--often, I confess, wondering what kind of being I should be in my
metamorphosis,--and rather impatient of the length of time, to say
nothing of the pain I felt under the pulling and frizing, and rubbing in
the exquisitely-scented _pomade de Venus._ At length the words, "_vous
êtes finis, madame, au dernier gout,"_ were pronounced; and I rose with
precaution, lest I should discompose my new-built fabrick, and to give a
glance at myself in the glass;--but where, or in what language, shall I
ever find words to express my astonishment at the figure which presented
itself to my eyes! what with curls, flowers, ribbands, feathers, lace,
jewels, fruit, and ten thousand other things, my head was at least from
one side to the other full half an ell wide, and from the lowest curl
that lay on my shoulder, up to the top, I am sure I am within compass,
if I say three quarters of a yard high; besides six enormous large
feathers, black, white, and pink, that reminded me of the plumes which
nodded on the immense casque in the castle of Otranto. "Good God!" I
exclaimed, "I can never bear this." The man assured me I was dressed
quite in taste. "Let me be dressed as I will," I answered, "I must and
will be altered. I would not thus expose myself, for the universe."
Saying which, I began pulling down some of the prodigious and monstrous
fabrick.--The _dresser of the actresses_ exclaimed loudly, and the
frizeur remonstrated. However, I was inflexible: but, to stop the
volubility of the Frenchman's tongue, I inquired how much I was indebted
to him for making me a monster. A mere trifle! Half a guinea the
dressing, and for the feathers, pins, wool, false curls, _chignion,
toque, pomades_, flowers, wax-fruit, ribband, _&c. &c. &c_. he believes
about four guineas would be the difference. I was almost petrified with
astonishment. When I recovered the power of utterance, I told him, "I
thought at least he should have informed me what he was about before he
ran me to so much expense; three-fourths of the things were useless, as
I would not by any means appear in them." "It was the same to him," he
said, "they were now my property. He had run the risk of disobliging the
Duchess of D----, by giving me the preference of the finest bundles of
radishes that had yet come over; but this it was to degrade himself by
dressing commoners. Lady Besford had intreated this favour from him; but
he must say, he had never been so ill-treated since his arrival in this
kingdom." In short, he flew out of the room in a great rage, leaving me
in the utmost disorder. I begged Mrs. Freeman (so her ladyship's woman
is called) to assist me a little in undoing what the impertinent
Frenchman had taken such immense pains to effect. I had sacrificed half
a bushel of trumpery, when Lady Besford was ushered into my
dressing-room. "Lord bless me! my dear Lady Stanley, what still
_dishabillé_? I thought you had been ready, and waiting for me." I
began, by way of apology, to inform her ladyship of Monsieur's
insolence. She looked serious, and said, "I am sorry you offended him; I
fear he will represent you at her grace's _ruelle_, and you will be the
jest of the whole court. Indeed, this is a sad affair. He is the first
man in his walk of life." "And if he was the last," I rejoined, "it
would be the better; however, I beg your ladyship's pardon for not being
ready. I shall not detain you many minutes."
My dear Louisa, you will laugh when I tell you, that poor Winifred, who
was reduced to be my gentlewoman's gentlewoman, broke two laces in
endeavouring to draw my new French stays close. You know I am naturally
small at bottom. But now you might literally span me. You never saw such
a doll. Then, they are so intolerably wide across the breast, that my
arms are absolutely sore with them; and my sides so pinched!--But it is
the _ton_; and pride feels no pain. It is with these sentiments the
ladies of the present age heal their wounds; to be admired, is a
sufficient balsam.
Sir William had met with the affronted Frenchman, and, like Lady
Besford, was full of apprehensions lest he should expose me; for my
part, I was glad to be from under his hands at any rate; and feared
nothing when he was gone; only still vexed at the strange figure I made.
My husband freely condemned my behaviour as extremely absurd; and, on my
saying I would have something to cover, or at least shade, my neck, for
that I thought it hardly decent to have that intirely bare, while one's
head was loaded with superfluities; he exclaimed to Lady Besford,
clapping his hands together, "Oh! God! this ridiculous girl will be an
eternal disgrace to me!" I thought this speech very cutting. I could not
restrain a tear from starting. "I hope not, Sir William," said I; "but,
lest I should, I will stay at home till I have properly learnt to submit
to insult and absurdity without emotion." My manner made him ashamed; he
took my hand, and, kissing it, begged my pardon, and added, "My dear
creature, I want you to be admired by the whole world; and, in
compliance with the taste of the world, we must submit to some things,
which, from their novelty, we may think absurd; but use will reconcile
them to you." Lady Besford encouraged me; and I was prevailed on to go,
though very much out of spirits. I must break off here, for the present.
This letter has been the work of some days already. Adieu!
IN CONTINUATION
My apprehensions increased each moment that brought us near St. James's:
but there was nothing for it; so I endeavoured all in my power to argue
myself into a serenity of mind, and succeeded beyond my hopes. The
amiable condescension of their Majesties, however, contributed more than
any thing to compose my spirits, or, what I believe to be nearer the
true state of the case, I was absorbed in respect for them, and totally
forgot myself. They were so obliging as to pay Sir William some
compliments; and the King said, if all my countrywomen were like me, he
should be afraid to trust his son thither. I observed Sir William with
the utmost attention; I saw his eyes were on me the whole time; but, my
Louisa, I cannot flatter myself so far as to say they were the looks of
love; they seemed to me rather the eyes of scrutiny, which were on the
watch, yet afraid they should see something unpleasing. I longed to be
at home, to know from him how I had acquitted myself. To my question, he
answered, by pressing me to his bosom, crying, "Like an angel, by
heaven! Upon my soul, Julia, I never was so charmed with you in my
life." "And upon my honour," I returned, "I could not discover the least
symptom of tenderness in your regards. I dreaded all the while that you
was thinking I should disgrace you."
"You was never more mistaken. I never had more reason to be proud of any
part of my family. The circle rang with your praises. But you must not
expect tenderness in public, my love; if you meet with it in private,
you will have no cause of complaint."