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
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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 en-snare 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 hon-our 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.
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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 outre figure in the beau monde. I beg you