You expected me to be a lively correspondent, but I fear I have nothing of interest to report. The disadvantage of many post deliveries a day in town is that I am pressured to write often, even when I have nothing to say. I suppose I am also eager to reply and am curious to know what you will say in response. When I sat to write, I had joked with my sister that I would tell you I am an orphan of a prosperous family and with the death of my last relation I am made an heiress, and write all manner of gothic tales about my woes and misadventures in finding a husband and being lured by many villains. My sister said it would be unlike me to torment a respectable man, and she is certainly right. Besides, you might wish for a fortune, and I have been honest to say there is none. There would be no way for you to know if I am playful or serious if I wrote a story like that, and so I have no news to report to you.
Since you keep a house in town and all I have at my disposal isThe Picture of London for 1809, what would you recommend I do to distract my sister, should she be willing again to seek some amusement? She is not a great walker like me, but I would like to see some remarkable object while in town, and if you have any suggestions, I await your reply.
Your friend,
L
Tuesday,February 4
Dear Friend,
I could not be certain whether you are the older or younger sister, and I suspect you aim to trick me and are withholding the fact that you have several brothers and sisters. You seem conscientious like a first-born child, but are generous and sociable like children in the middle often are. Perhaps you are the eldest daughter, but you fall somewhere in the middle. I do not believe you have the rebellious nature typical of a youngest child. You must decide if you want to tell me or make me guess.
I am the eldest, and there are many years between my sister and me. My sister sees me as more like a father than a brother. Perhaps you might say she is spoilt, but I am nearly all she has and would do anything for her happiness. I desire to do well by her, but I could always do better.
I thank you for not telling tales of a gothic heroine and for keeping your correspondence to the truth. I would prefer to know about you, L, rather than read whatever entertaining story you could tell. You wrote, as did I, that you enjoy books and the country, and I invite you to tell me something about one of those two interests.
Have you ever been to one of the Surrey Institution lectures? You hoped to detest the next thing I mentioned enjoying, so let your wit flow long in your complaints against the Institution if you have attended. I am pleased our opinion coincides regarding the panorama. I was prepared to argue its merits as an entertainment and educational means, but you have saved me a half sheet of paper. Now I can answer your question of what to do with your sister once she will leave home. If she went to the panorama, does that mean she is recovered enough from her disappointment to mix more with the world?
I am certain you know St Paul’s, but have you been inside to see the curiosities? The church is closed except for services, but did you know that you can find admittance by knocking at the door of the northern portico? A person is ready within to takevisitors to the staircase leading to the curiosities, for which he demands four pence. You can see the library, Sir Christopher Wren’s model for the church, the Great Bell and the clockwork, but the most curious is the Whispering Gallery. Bring your sister with you and once you have climbed the steps, have her sit on the stone seat that runs round the gallery along the foot of the wall. They cover several yards of the seat with matting for visitors. Go to the other side near the door you entered and whisper with your mouth close to the lower and principal dome along the curving wall. Provided there is little noise, your sister will hear you.
Yours, &c
F
Wednesday,February 5, 12 o’clock
Dear Friend,
The panorama was delightful, and my sister enjoyed the scene, although she was not brave enough to venture up the second staircase to view the other scene on the smaller platform. I would have liked to have gone. The walk up would be nothing for me, but I wanted to stay with her. Rather than distractions of the public places, she prefers the quiet support of a family circle who loves and understands her, and who does not speak constantly of the man she lost or blame her for not securing him. The alliance might still come to pass, but for now what she needs is my kindness and patience, and to have a little relief from home.
You might wonder at my avoiding something I wanted to do for the sake of staying by her side. My uncle even told me after that I ought to have run up to see the second scene, but I want to care for my dear sister. It is why I accepted my relations’ invitation to spend the winter in town.Concerts, entertainments, visiting, shops are all pleasant, and even necessary, but my sister does not have the heart for much lately. I have never been to a lecture anywhere, let alone your Surrey Institution, so I defer despising your taste for another time.
You have guessed very near to the truth with how many children my parents have and where I fall in order or birth. To be so easily seen through, I am afraid, is pitiful. I thought I had a deep, intricate character. I am not the first daughter into the dining room after my mother nor am I the last. But how many sisters there are in between I will not tell you. I will, however, tell you that it is my eldest sister who is with me in town.
I realise I have spoken more of my sister than myself, so much so that you might think I wanted you to get to know her rather than me. I shall talk of books, although I am not certain that we read the same. I foundThe Scottish Chiefsin my uncle’s library. The authoress paints the portrait of one of the most complete heroes that ever filled the pages of history. If works such as this do not stir up an interest in Scotland, I will be amazed and disappointed. Miss Jane Porter also wroteThaddeus of Warsaw, and although I liked that work better, I am wholly engrossed in William Wallace’s story. Do you read novels? I hope you are not one of those men who claims to have no time for such nonsense.Young men often dislike novels. I am beginning to like you, and it would be a shame to find out that you are dull, for I would never decry the capacity and undervalue the labour of the novelist.
I am charmed by your description of the curiosities to be found in St Paul’s. I doubt I will have the chance to visit this season, but I intend to test this Whispering Gallery for myself. I wish I had some secret about town to share with you in return. All I can think of is that Kelsey’s in Pall Mall has better confections than Gunter’s. It is true. Visit both and report backwho has better sugarplums. I dare you to think that Gunter’s is superior after you have sampled both.
It is now half-past; if I hurry, perhaps this letter can make the 2 o’clock two-penny post and you can read it at 4, and then rush to Kelsey’s and Gunter’s, and I can have your sugarplum report at 7.
Your friend,
L
Thursday,February 6, 8 o’clock in the morning
My dear friend,
Sadly, your letter must not have made it in the 2 o’clock, for I did not get it until the 7 o’clock delivery. The great sugarplum debate between locations in Berkeley Square and Pall Mall must wait for another day. I live very near to Gunter’s, however, and am more likely to frequent it than Kelsey’s. I promise to be fair and impartial in my observations and report back my findings at my earliest convenience. You can always rely on me to be honest.
I have not yet readThe Scottish Chiefs, but I have readThaddeus of Warsaw. Did you know that Miss Porter has a sister who is also a novelist? Her favourite of mine isTheHungarian Brothers. You cannot accuse me of not being a reader of novels. I enjoy poetry and a well-constructed treatise, but I have read hundreds of novels, and my friends claim I am always buying books. I hope when asked what you are reading, you would proudly tell its name. If we were to meet in person, I think we would engage in the never-ceasing inquiry of ‘Have you read this?’ and ‘Have you read that?’ What shall you read when you are done withThe Scottish Chiefs? If you want to continue with a similar theme, you might enjoy Walter Scott’s poem,The Lady of the Lake.
In an earlier letter, you commanded me to talk about music, and I will answer in the hope of hearing a similar response from you. I enjoy Beethoven and any piece by Weber, especially his operas, but my interests are not confined to modern music. There is a concert of ancient music held in the Great Room every Wednesday in Hanover Square. I believe the only rule is the utter exclusion of modern music and nothing less than twenty-five years old may be played. My sister prefers more variety, and although she is too diffident to complain, I know she only attends to oblige me. Do you take joy in music, or do you perform to seek praise? Do you practise diligently or not at all? I enjoy hearing music in the house, and if you told me you played and sang all day long, it would not bother me.
I want to write more, but I promised to meet my sister for breakfast. Friends of mine who also claim to be her friends wish for her to join us at a musical evening tomorrow, and I think she will need my encouragement. Thinking of my sister and her shyness calls to mind your own sister. How are her spirits? Does she remain at home? I hope attending to her, which is indeed admirable, has not spoilt your time in London.
Your friend,
