this strange behaviour be owing? You say, you tell me every
circumstance. Have you had any disagreement; and is this the method your
husband takes to shew his resentment? Ah! Julia, be not afraid of my
shewing your letters to my father; do you think I would precipitate him
with sorrow to the grave, or at least wound his reverend bosom with such
anguish? No, Julia, I will burst my heart in silence, but never tell my
grief. Alas! my sister, friend of my soul, why are we separated? The
loss of your loved society I would sacrifice, could I but hear you were
happy. But can you be so among such wretches? Yet be comforted, my
Julia; have confidence in the rectitude of your own actions and
thoughts; but, above all, petition heaven to support you in all trials.
Be assured, while you have the protection of the Almighty, these impious
vile wretches will not, cannot, prevail against you. Your virtue will
shine out more conspicuously, while surrounded with their vices.
That horrid Lady Besford! I am sure you feel all the detestation you
ought for such a character. As you become acquainted with other people,
(and they cannot be all so bad)--you may take an opportunity of shaking
her off. Dear creature! how art thou beset! Surely, Sir William is very
thoughtless: with his experience, he ought to have known how improper
such a woman was for the protector of his wife. And why must this
Lord--what's his odious name?--why is he to be your _escorte_? Is it
not the husband's province to guard and defend his wife? What a world
are you cast in!
I find poor Win has written to her aunt Bailey, and complains heavily of
her situation. She says, Griffith is still more discontented than
herself; since he is the jest of all the other servants. They both wish
themselves at home again. She likewise tells Mrs. Bailey, that she is
not fit to dress you according to the fashion, and gives a whimsical
account of the many different things you put on and pull off when you
are, what she calls, high-dressed. If she is of no use to you, I wish
you would send her back before her morals are corrupted. Consider, she
has not had the advantage of education, as you have had; and, being
without those resources within, may the more easily fall a prey to some
insidious betrayer; for, no doubt, in such a place,
"Clowns as well can act the rake,
As those in higher sphere."
Let her return, then, if she is willing, as innocent and artless as she
left us. Oh! that I could enlarge that wish! I should have been glad you
had had Mrs. Bailey with you; she might have been of some service to
you. Her long residence in _our_ family would have given her some weight
in _your's_, which I doubt is sadly managed by Win's account. The
servants are disorderly and negligent. Don't you think of going into the
country? Spring comes forward very fast; and next month is the fairest
of the year.
Would to heaven you were here!--I long ardently for your company; and,
rather than forego it, would almost consent to share it with the
dissipated tribe you are obliged to associate with;--but that privilege
is not allowed me. I could not leave my father. Nay, I must further say
I should have too much pride to come unasked; and you know Sir William
never gave me an invitation.
I shed tears over the latter part of your letter, where you say, _I
could be happy, superlatively so, with Sir William in a desert; but here
it is impossible_. Whatever he may think, he would be happy too; at
least he appeared so while with us. Oh! that he could have been
satisfied with our calm joys, which mend the heart, and left those false
delusive ones, which corrupt and vitiate it!
Dearest Julia, adieu!
Believe me your faithful
LOUISA GRENVILLE.
LETTER XII.
TO Miss GRENVILLE.
Louisa! my dearest girl! who do you think I have met with?--No other
than Lady Melford! I saw her this day in the drawing-room. I instantly
recognized her ladyship, and, catching her eye, made my obeisance to
her. She returned my salute, in a manner which seemed to say, "I don't
know you; but I wish to recollect you."--As often as I looked up, I
found I engaged her attention. When their majesties were withdrawn, I
was sitting in one of the windows with Lady Anne Parker, and some other
folks about me.--I then saw Lady Melford moving towards me. I rose, and
pressed her to take my place. "You are very obliging," said she: "I
will, if you please, accept part of it, as I wish informed who it is
that is so polite as to pay such civility to an old woman." Lady Anne,
finding we were entering on conversation, wished me a good day, and went
off.
"I am perfectly well acquainted with your features," said her ladyship;
"but I cannot call to my memory what is your name."
"Have you then quite forgot Julia Grenville, to whom you was so kind
while she was on a visit with your grandfather at L.?"
"Julia Grenville! Aye, so it is; but, my dear, how came I to meet you in
the drawing-room at St. James's, whom I thought still an inmate of the
mountains? Has your father rescinded his resolution of spending his life
there? and where is your sister?"
"My father," I replied, "is still in his favourite retreat; my sister
resides with him.--I have been in town some time, and am at present an
inhabitant of it."
"To whose protection could your father confide you, my dear?"
"To the best protector in the world, madam," I answered, smiling--"to an
husband."
"A husband!" she repeated, quite astonished, "What, child, are you
married? And who, my dear, is this husband that your father could part
with you to?"
"That gentleman in the blue and silver velvet, across the room,--Sir
William Stanley. Does your ladyship know him?"
"By name and character only," she answered. "You are very young, my
dear, to be thus initiated in the world. Has Sir William any relations,
female ones I mean, who are fit companions for you?--This is a dangerous
place for young inexperienced girls to be left to their own guidance."
I mentioned the ladies to whom I had been introduced. "I don't know
them," said Lady Melford; "no doubt they are women of character, as they
are the friends of your husband. I am, however, glad to see you, and
hope you are happily married. My meeting you here is owing to having
attended a lady who was introduced; I came to town from D. for that
purpose."
I asked her ladyship, if she would permit me to wait on her while she
remained in town. She obligingly said, "she took it very kind in a young
person shewing such attention to her, and should always be glad of my
company."
The counsel of Lady Melford may be of service to me. I am extremely
happy to have seen her. I remember with pleasure the month I passed at
L. I reproach myself for not writing to Jenny Melford. I doubt she
thinks me ungrateful, or that the busy scenes in which I am immersed
have obliterated all former fond remembrances. I will soon convince her,
that the gay insignificant crowd cannot wear away the impression which
her kindness stamped on my heart in early childhood.
* * * * *
Your letter is just brought to my hands. Yes, my dear Louisa, I have not
a doubt but that, while I deserve it, I shall be the immediate care of
heaven. Join your prayers to mine; and they will, when offered with
heart-felt sincerity, be heard.
I have nothing to apprehend from Lady Besford.--Such kind of women can
never seduce me. She shews herself too openly; and the discovery of her
character gives me no other concern, than as it too evidently manifests
in my eyes the extreme carelessness of Sir William: I own _there_ I am
in some degree piqued. But, if _he_ is indifferent about my morals and
well-doing in life, it will more absolutely become my business to take
care of myself,--an arduous task for a young girl, surrounded with so
many incitements to quit the strait paths, and so many examples of those
that do.
As to the œconomy of my family, I fear it is but badly
managed.--However, I do not know how to interfere, as we have a
house-keeper, who is empowered to give all orders, &c. If Win is
desirous of returning, I shall not exert my voice to oppose her
inclinations, though I own I shall be very sorry to lose the only
domestic in my family in whom I can place the least confidence, or who
is attached to me from any other motive than interest. I will never,
notwithstanding my repugnance to her leaving me, offer any objections
which may influence her conduct; but I do not think with you her morals
will be in any danger, as she in general keeps either in my apartments,
or in the house-keeper's.
I do not know how Griffith manages; I should be concerned that he should
be ill-used by the rest of the servants; his dialect, and to them
singular manners, may excite their boisterous mirth; and I know, though
he is a worthy creature, yet he has all the irascibility of his
countrymen; and therefore they may take a pleasure in thwarting and
teasing the poor Cambro-Briton; but of this I am not likely to be
informed, as being so wholly out of my sphere.
I could hardly help smiling at that part of your letter, wherein you
say, you think the husband the proper person to attend his wife to
public places. How different are your ideas from those of the people of
this town, or at least to their practice!--A woman, who would not blush
at being convicted in a little affair of gallantry, would be ready to
sink with confusion, should she receive these _tendres_ from an husband
in public, which when offered by any other man is accepted with pleasure
and complacency. Sir William never goes with me to any of these
fashionable movements. It is true, we often meet, but very seldom join,
as we are in general in separate parties. _Whom God hath joined, let no
man put asunder_, is a part of the ceremony; but here it is the business
of every one to endeavour to put a man and wife asunder;--fashion not
making it decent to appear together.
These _etiquettes_, though so absolutely necessary in polite life, are
by no means reconcilable to reason, or to my wishes. But my voice would
be too weak to be heard against the general cry; or, being heard, I
should be thought too insignificant to be attended to.
"Conscience makes cowards of us all," some poet says; and your Julia
says, fashion makes fools of us all; but she only whispers this to the
dear bosom of her friend. Oh! my Louisa, that you were with me!--It is
with this wish I end all my letters; mentally so, if I do not openly
thus express myself.--Absence seems to increase my affection.--One
reason is, because I cannot find any one to supply me the loss I sustain
in you; out of the hundreds I visit, not one with whom I can form a
friendly attachment. My attachment to Sir William, which was strong
enough to tear me from your arms, is not sufficient to suppress the
gushing tear, or hush the rising sigh, when I sit and reflect on what I
once possessed, and what I so much want at this moment. Adieu, my dear
Louisa! continue your tender attention to the best of fathers, and love
me always.
JULIA STANLEY.
LETTER XIII.
TO THE SAME.
I spent a whole morning with Lady Melford, more to my satisfaction than
any one I have passed since I left you. But this treat cannot be
repeated; her ladyship leaves town this day. She was so good as to say,
she was sorry her stay was so short, and wished to have had more time
with me. I can truly join with her. Her conversation was friendly and
parental. She cautioned me against falling into the levities of the
sex--which unhappily, she observed, were now become so prevalent; and
further told me, how cautious I ought to be of my female acquaintance,
since the reputation of a young woman rises and falls in proportion to
the merit of her associates. I judged she had Lady Besford in her mind.
I answered, I thought myself unhappy in not having you with me, and
likewise possessing so little penetration, that I could not discover who
were, or who were not, proper companions; that, relying on the
experience of Sir William, I had left the choice of them to him,
trusting he would not introduce those whose characters and morals were
reprehensible; but whether it proceeded from my ignorance, or from the
mode of the times, I could not admire the sentiments of either of the
ladies with whom I was more intimately connected, but wished to have the
opinion of one whose judgment was more matured than mine.
Lady Melford replied, the circle of her acquaintance was rather
confined;--and that her short residences at a time in town left her an
incompetent judge: "but, my dear," she added, "the virtuous principles
instilled into you by your excellent father, joined to the innate
goodness of your heart, must guide you through the warfare of life.
Never for one moment listen to the seductive voice of folly, whether its
advocate be man or woman.--If a man is profuse in flattery, believe him
an insidious betrayer, who only watches a favourable moment to ruin your
peace of mind for ever. Suffer no one to lessen your husband in your
esteem: no one will attempt it, but from sinister views; disappoint all
such, either by grave remonstrances or lively sallies. Perhaps some will
officiously bring you informations of the supposed infidelity of your
husband, in hopes they may induce you to take a fashionable
revenge.--Labour to convince such, how you detest all informers; speak
of your confidence in him,--and that nothing shall persuade you but that
he acts as he ought. But, since the heart of man naturally loves
variety, and, from the depravity of the age, indulgences, which I call
criminal, are allowed to them, Sir William may not pay that strict
obedience to his part of the marriage contract as he ought; remember, my
dear, his conduct can never exculpate any breach in your's. Gentleness
and complacency on your part are the only weapons you should prove to
any little irregularity on his. By such behaviour, I doubt not, you will
be happy, as you will deserve to be so."
Ah! my dear Louisa, what a loss shall I have in this venerable
monitress! I will treasure up her excellent advice, and hope to reap the
benefit of it.
If I dislike Lady Besford, I think I have more reason to be displeased
with Lady Anne Parker.--She has more artifice, and is consequently a
more dangerous companion. She has more than once given hints of the
freedoms which Sir William allows in himself.--The other night at the
opera she pointed out one of the dancers, and assured me, "Sir William
was much envied for having subdued the virtue of that girl. That,"
continued she, "was her _vis à vis_ that you admired this morning; she
lives in great taste; I suppose her allowance is superb." It is quite
the _ton_ to keep opera-girls, though, perhaps, the men who support them
never pay them a visit.--I therefore concluded this affair was one of
that sort. Such creatures can never deprive me of my husband's heart,
and I should be very weak to be uneasy about such connexions.
Last night, however, a circumstance happened, which, I own, touched my
heart more sensibly. Lady Anne insisted on my accompanying her to the
opera. Sir William dined out; and, as our party was sudden, knew not of
my intention of being there. Towards the end of the opera, I observed my
husband in one of the upper-boxes, with a very elegant-looking woman,
dressed in the genteelest taste, to whom he appeared very
assiduous.--"There is Sir William," said I.--"Yes," said Lady Anne, "but
I dare say, he did not expect to see you here."
"Possibly not," I answered. A little female curiosity urged me to ask,
if she knew who that lady was? She smiled, and answered, "she believed
she did." A very favourite air being then singing, I dropped the
conversation, though I could not help now and then stealing a look at my
husband. I was convinced he must see and know me, as my situation in the
house was very conspicuous; but I thought he seemed industriously to
avoid meeting my eyes.--The opera being ended, we adjourned to the
coffee-room; and, having missed Sir William a little time before,
naturally expected to see him there; as it is customary for all the
company to assemble there previous to their going to their carriages.
A great number of people soon joined us. Baron Ton-hausen had just
handed me a glass of orgeat; and was chatting in an agreeable manner,
when Lord Biddulph came up. "Lady Stanley," said he, with an air of
surprize, "I thought I saw you this moment in Sir William's chariot. I
little expected the happiness of meeting you here."
"You saw Sir William, my Lord, I believe," said Lady Anne; "but as to
the Lady, you are mistaken--though I should have supposed you might have
recognized your old friend Lucy Gardiner; they were together in one of
the boxes.--Sly wretch! he thought we did not see him."
"Oh! you ladies have such penetrating eyes," replied his Lordship, "that
we poor men--and especially the married ones, ought to be careful how we
conduct ourselves. But, my dear Lady Stanley, how have you been
entertained? Was not Rauzzini exquisite?"
"Can you ask how her Ladyship has been amused, when you have just
informed her, her _Caro Sposo_ was seen with a favourite Sultana?"
"Pshaw!" said his Lordship, "there is nothing in that--_tout la mode de
François_. The conduct of an husband can not discompose a Lady of sense.
What says the lovely Lady Stanley?"
"I answer," I replied very seriously, "Sir William has an undoubted
right to act as he pleases. I never have or ever intend to prescribe
rules to him; sufficient, I think, to conduct self."
"Bravo!" cried Lord Biddulph, "spoke like a heroine: and I hope my dear
Lady Stanley will act as she pleases too."
"I do when I can," I answered.--Then, turning to Lady Anne, "Not to
break in on your amusement," I continued, "will you give me leave to
wait on you to Brook-street? you know you have promised to sup with me."
"Most chearfully," said she;--"but will you not ask the beaux to attend
us?"
Lord Biddulph said, he was most unfortunately engaged to Lady D--'s
route. The Baron refused, as if he wished to be intreated. Lady Anne
would take no denial; and, when I assured him his company would give me
pleasure, he consented.
I was handed to the coach by his Lordship, who took that opportunity of
condemning Sir William's want of taste; and lavishing the utmost
encomiums on your Julia--with whom they passed as nothing. If Sir
William is unfaithful, Lord Biddulph is not the man to reconcile me to
the sex. I feel his motives in too glaring colours. No, the soft
timidity of Ton-hausen, which, while it indicates the profoundest
respect, still betrays the utmost tenderness--he it is alone who could
restore the character of mankind, and raise it again in my estimation.
But what have I said? Dear Louisa, I blush at having discovered to you,
that I am, past all doubt, the object of the Baron's tender sentiments.
Ah! can I mistake those glances, which modest reserve and deference urge
him to correct? Yet fear me not. I am married. My vows are registered in
the book of heaven; and as, by their irreversible decree, I am bound to
_honour_ and _obey_ my husband, so will I strive to _love_ him, and him
alone; though I have long since ceased to be the object of his? Of what
consequence, however, is that? I am indissolubly united to him; he was
the man of my choice--to say he was the first man I almost ever saw--and
to plead my youth and inexperience--oh! what does that avail? Nor does
his neglect justify the least on my part.
"For man the lawless libertine may rove."
But this is a strange digression. The Baron accompanied us to supper.
During our repast, Lady Anne made a thousand sallies to divert us. My
mind, however, seemed that night infected by the demon of despair. I
could not be chearful--and yet, I am sure, I was not jealous of this
Lucy Gardiner. Melancholy was contagious: Ton-hausen caught it--I
observed him sometimes heave a suppressed sigh. Lady Anne was determined
to dissipate the gloom which inveloped us, and began drawing, with her
satirical pen, the characters of her acquaintance.
"Baron," said she, "did you not observe Lord P--, with his round
unthinking face--how assiduous he was to Miss W----, complimenting her
on the brilliancy of her complexion, though he knows she wore more
_rouge_ than almost any woman of quality--extolling her _forest of
hair_, when most likely he saw it this morning brought in a
band-box--and celebrating the pearly whiteness of her teeth, when he was
present at their transplanting? But he is not a slave to propriety, or
even common sense. No, dear creature, he has a soul above it. But did
you not take notice of Lady L----, how she ogled Capt. F. when her booby
Lord turned his head aside? What a ridiculous fop is that! The most
glaring proofs will not convince him of his wife's infidelity. 'Captain
F.' said he to me yesterday at court; 'Captain F. I assure you, Lady
Anne, is a great favourite with me.' 'It is a family partiality,' said
I; 'Lady L. seems to have no aversion to him.' 'Ah, there you mistake,
fair Lady. I want my Lady to have the same affection for him I have. He
has done all he can to please her, and yet she does not seem satisfied
with him.' 'Unconscionable!' cried I, 'why then she is never to be
satisfied.' 'Why so I say; but it proceeds from the violence of her
attachment to me. Oh! Lady Anne, she is the most virtuous and
discreetest Lady. I should be the happiest man in the world, if she
would but shew a little more consideration to my friend.' I think it a
pity he does not know his happiness, as I have not the least doubt of F.
and her Ladyship having a pretty good understanding together." Thus was
the thoughtless creature running on unheeded by either of us, when her
harangue was interrupted by an alarming accident happening to me. I had
sat some time, leaning my head on my hand; though, God knows! paying
very little attention to Lady Anne's sketches, when some of the
superfluous ornaments of my head-dress, coming rather too near the
candle, caught fire, and the whole farrago of ribbands, lace, and
gew-gaws, were instantly in flames. I shrieked out in the utmost terror,
and should have been a very great sufferer--perhaps been burnt to
death--had not the Baron had the presence of mind to roll my head,
flames and all, up in my shawl, which fortunately hung on the back of my
chair; and, by such precaution, preserved the _capitol_. How ridiculous
are the fashions, which render us liable to such accidents! My fright,
however, proved more than the damage sustained. When the flames were
extinguished, I thought Lady Anne would have expired with mirth; owing
to the disastrous figure I made with my singed feathers, &c. The
whimsical distress of the heroine of the Election Ball presented itself
to her imagination; and the pale face of the affrighted Baron, during
the conflagration, heightened the picture. "Even such a man," she cried,
"so dead in look, so woe-be-gone! Excuse me, dear Ton-hausen--The danger
is over now. I must indulge my risible faculties."
"I will most readily join with your Ladyship," answered the Baron, "as
my joy is in proportion to what were my apprehensions. But I must
condemn a fashion which is so injurious to the safety of the ladies."
The accident, however, disconcerted me not a little, and made me quite
unfit for company. They saw the chagrin painted on my features, and soon
took leave of me.
I retired to my dressing-room, and sent for Win, to inspect the almost
ruinated fabrick; but such is the construction now-a-days, that a head
might burn for an hour without damaging the genuine part of it. A lucky
circumstance! I sustained but little damage--in short, nothing which
Monsieur _Corross_ could not remedy in a few hours.
My company staying late, and this event besides, retarded my retiring to
rest till near three in the morning. I had not left my dressing-room
when Sir William entered.