Love and Freindship [sic]
figures are perfectly elegant; and as to their faces, their Eyes are
beautifull.”
“I never can think such tremendous, knock-me-down figures in the least
degree elegant, and as for their eyes, they are so tall that I never
could strain my neck enough to look at them.”
“Nay, (replied he) I know not whether you may not be in the right in
not attempting it, for perhaps they might dazzle you with their
Lustre.”
“Oh! Certainly. (said I, with the greatest complacency, for I assure
you my dearest Charlotte I was not in the least offended tho’ by what
followed, one would suppose that William was conscious of having given
me just cause to be so, for coming up to me and taking my hand, he
said) “You must not look so grave Susan; you will make me fear I have
offended you!”
“Offended me! Dear Brother, how came such a thought in your head!
(returned I) No really! I assure you that I am not in the least
surprised at your being so warm an advocate for the Beauty of these
girls.”—
“Well, but (interrupted William) remember that we have not yet
concluded our dispute concerning them. What fault do you find with
their complexion?”
“They are so horridly pale.”
“They have always a little colour, and after any exercise it is
considerably heightened.”
“Yes, but if there should ever happen to be any rain in this part of
the world, they will never be able raise more than their common
stock—except indeed they amuse themselves with running up and Down
these horrid old galleries and Antichambers.”
“Well, (replied my Brother in a tone of vexation, and glancing an
impertinent look at me) if they _have_ but little colour, at least, it
is all their own.”
This was too much my dear Charlotte, for I am certain that he had the
impudence by that look, of pretending to suspect the reality of mine.
But you I am sure will vindicate my character whenever you may hear it
so cruelly aspersed, for you can witness how often I have protested
against wearing Rouge, and how much I always told you I disliked it.
And I assure you that my opinions are still the same.—. Well, not
bearing to be so suspected by my Brother, I left the room immediately,
and have been ever since in my own Dressing-room writing to you. What a
long letter have I made of it! But you must not expect to receive such
from me when I get to Town; for it is only at Lesley castle, that one
has time to write even to a Charlotte Lutterell.—. I was so much vexed
by William’s glance, that I could not summon Patience enough, to stay
and give him that advice respecting his attachment to Matilda which had
first induced me from pure Love to him to begin the conversation; and I
am now so thoroughly convinced by it, of his violent passion for her,
that I am certain he would never hear reason on the subject, and I
shall there fore give myself no more trouble either about him or his
favourite. Adeiu my dear girl—
Yrs affectionately Susan L.
LETTER the SEVENTH
From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY
Bristol the 27th of March
I have received Letters from you and your Mother-in-law within this
week which have greatly entertained me, as I find by them that you are
both downright jealous of each others Beauty. It is very odd that two
pretty Women tho’ actually Mother and Daughter cannot be in the same
House without falling out about their faces. Do be convinced that you
are both perfectly handsome and say no more of the Matter. I suppose
this letter must be directed to Portman Square where probably (great as
is your affection for Lesley Castle) you will not be sorry to find
yourself. In spite of all that people may say about Green fields and
the Country I was always of opinion that London and its amusements must
be very agreable for a while, and should be very happy could my
Mother’s income allow her to jockey us into its Public-places, during
Winter. I always longed particularly to go to Vaux-hall, to see whether
the cold Beef there is cut so thin as it is reported, for I have a sly
suspicion that few people understand the art of cutting a slice of cold
Beef so well as I do: nay it would be hard if I did not know something
of the Matter, for it was a part of my Education that I took by far the
most pains with. Mama always found me _her_ best scholar, tho’ when
Papa was alive Eloisa was _his_. Never to be sure were there two more
different Dispositions in the World. We both loved Reading. _She_
preferred Histories, and I Receipts. She loved drawing, Pictures, and I
drawing Pullets. No one could sing a better song than she, and no one
make a better Pye than I.—And so it has always continued since we have
been no longer children. The only difference is that all disputes on
the superior excellence of our Employments _then_ so frequent are now
no more. We have for many years entered into an agreement always to
admire each other’s works; I never fail listening to _her_ Music, and
she is as constant in eating my pies. Such at least was the case till
Henry Hervey made his appearance in Sussex. Before the arrival of his
Aunt in our neighbourhood where she established herself you know about
a twelvemonth ago, his visits to her had been at stated times, and of
equal and settled Duration; but on her removal to the Hall which is
within a walk from our House, they became both more frequent and
longer. This as you may suppose could not be pleasing to Mrs Diana who
is a professed enemy to everything which is not directed by Decorum and
Formality, or which bears the least resemblance to Ease and
Good-breeding. Nay so great was her aversion to her Nephews behaviour
that I have often heard her give such hints of it before his face that
had not Henry at such times been engaged in conversation with Eloisa,
they must have caught his Attention and have very much distressed him.
The alteration in my Sisters behaviour which I have before hinted at,
now took place. The Agreement we had entered into of admiring each
others productions she no longer seemed to regard, and tho’ I
constantly applauded even every Country-dance, she played, yet not even
a pidgeon-pye of my making could obtain from her a single word of
approbation. This was certainly enough to put any one in a Passion;
however, I was as cool as a cream-cheese and having formed my plan and
concerted a scheme of Revenge, I was determined to let her have her own
way and not even to make her a single reproach. My scheme was to treat
her as she treated me, and tho’ she might even draw my own Picture or
play Malbrook (which is the only tune I ever really liked) not to say
so much as “Thank you Eloisa;” tho’ I had for many years constantly
hollowed whenever she played, _Bravo_, _Bravissimo_, _her_, _Da capo_,
_allegretto con expressione_, and _Poco presto_ with many other such
outlandish words, all of them as Eloisa told me expressive of my
Admiration; and so indeed I suppose they are, as I see some of them in
every Page of every Music book, being the sentiments I imagine of the
composer.
I executed my Plan with great Punctuality. I can not say success, for
alas! my silence while she played seemed not in the least to displease
her; on the contrary she actually said to me one day “Well Charlotte, I
am very glad to find that you have at last left off that ridiculous
custom of applauding my Execution on the Harpsichord till you made _my_
head ake, and yourself hoarse. I feel very much obliged to you for
keeping your admiration to yourself.” I never shall forget the very
witty answer I made to this speech. “Eloisa (said I) I beg you would be
quite at your Ease with respect to all such fears in future, for be
assured that I shall always keep my admiration to myself and my own
pursuits and never extend it to yours.” This was the only very severe
thing I ever said in my Life; not but that I have often felt myself
extremely satirical but it was the only time I ever made my feelings
public.
I suppose there never were two Young people who had a greater affection
for each other than Henry and Eloisa; no, the Love of your Brother for
Miss Burton could not be so strong tho’ it might be more violent. You
may imagine therefore how provoked my Sister must have been to have him
play her such a trick. Poor girl! she still laments his Death with
undiminished constancy, notwithstanding he has been dead more than six
weeks; but some People mind such things more than others. The ill state
of Health into which his loss has thrown her makes her so weak, and so
unable to support the least exertion, that she has been in tears all
this Morning merely from having taken leave of Mrs. Marlowe who with
her Husband, Brother and Child are to leave Bristol this morning. I am
sorry to have them go because they are the only family with whom we
have here any acquaintance, but I never thought of crying; to be sure
Eloisa and Mrs Marlowe have always been more together than with me, and
have therefore contracted a kind of affection for each other, which
does not make Tears so inexcusable in them as they would be in me. The
Marlowes are going to Town; Cliveland accompanies them; as neither
Eloisa nor I could catch him I hope you or Matilda may have better
Luck. I know not when we shall leave Bristol, Eloisa’s spirits are so
low that she is very averse to moving, and yet is certainly by no means
mended by her residence here. A week or two will I hope determine our
Measures—in the mean time believe me
and etc—and etc—Charlotte Lutterell.
LETTER the EIGHTH
Miss LUTTERELL to Mrs MARLOWE
Bristol April 4th
I feel myself greatly obliged to you my dear Emma for such a mark of
your affection as I flatter myself was conveyed in the proposal you
made me of our Corresponding; I assure you that it will be a great
releif to me to write to you and as long as my Health and Spirits will
allow me, you will find me a very constant correspondent; I will not
say an entertaining one, for you know my situation suffciently not to
be ignorant that in me Mirth would be improper and I know my own Heart
too well not to be sensible that it would be unnatural. You must not
expect news for we see no one with whom we are in the least acquainted,
or in whose proceedings we have any Interest. You must not expect
scandal for by the same rule we are equally debarred either from
hearing or inventing it.—You must expect from me nothing but the
melancholy effusions of a broken Heart which is ever reverting to the
Happiness it once enjoyed and which ill supports its present
wretchedness. The Possibility of being able to write, to speak, to you
of my lost Henry will be a luxury to me, and your goodness will not I
know refuse to read what it will so much releive my Heart to write. I
once thought that to have what is in general called a Freind (I mean
one of my own sex to whom I might speak with less reserve than to any
other person) independant of my sister would never be an object of my
wishes, but how much was I mistaken! Charlotte is too much engrossed by
two confidential correspondents of that sort, to supply the place of
one to me, and I hope you will not think me girlishly romantic, when I
say that to have some kind and compassionate Freind who might listen to
my sorrows without endeavouring to console me was what I had for some
time wished for, when our acquaintance with you, the intimacy which
followed it and the particular affectionate attention you paid me
almost from the first, caused me to entertain the flattering Idea of
those attentions being improved on a closer acquaintance into a
Freindship which, if you were what my wishes formed you would be the
greatest Happiness I could be capable of enjoying. To find that such
Hopes are realised is a satisfaction indeed, a satisfaction which is
now almost the only one I can ever experience.—I feel myself so languid