Chapter 4

Chapter Four

S aturday, February 1, 8 o'clock in the evening

Dear Friend,

It is a relief to me that your opinions about the matchmaking endeavour coincide with my own. I appreciate you are as cautious as I am in this venture. For the present, I will enjoy our letters and the opportunity to become acquainted.

You commanded me to ask you about music, but talking by rule does not appear to be your natural style, so I will wait for another time to learn if you like Beethoven or sing duets. For me: yes, and no. Musical talent is something I admire in others, and particularly respect because I have no such skills myself. I would rather know how you are spending your time in town. I presume you are staying with friends since you are leaving so early. Perhaps you are in the company of your sister for whom you hope to prove this matchmaking business a respectable option? Are you visiting the shops and the public places as much as you would like?

I keep a house in town and have been here since before Christmas and will stay until Easter when my cousin and I visit our aunt. He is the one who convinced me to undertake this project, and he is also writing to ladies through the subscription agency because he knew I would never agree if he did not also take part. I am not a man guided by others. I keep my own counsel and am decided in both my opinions and actions. However, writing to you will be a more pleasant use of my time rather than spending the rest of the season arguing with him, so I conceded.

You might ask why he thought it necessary at all, and you also asked if I was a shy man made nervous talking to ladies. My cousin thinks me a better letter writer than a speaker, but I think his true concern is that I am too forthright for the world, and he is not wrong. My sister is shy, a quiet, self-conscious girl who has been timid all her life. She has a genuine fear of saying and doing wrong that prohibits her from joining a conversation. I admit I do not have the talent of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation or appear interested in their concerns. However, I am not shy and am quite disposed to share my opinion.

If you present to me any subject in these letters, I will try to argue you out of your opinion if I disagree, and I hope you will do the same with me. I have no patience for coyness or undue deference.

To that end, I will ask if you have seen this season's scene at Mr Barker's panorama? Some call it a triviality, a contrivance, but I look forward to the spectacle every year. I could spend an hour on the platform with the information sheet that describes every sight, being sure to walk all round and take in every view. One is transported to faraway places that one might never otherwise see. Now that you know my opinion of it, you must share with me your own. If you have seen them, do you think them ridiculous or enjoyable? If not, does the idea appeal to you?

Your friend,

F

Monday, February 3

Dear Friend,

I have done fewer activities than I might have liked since I arrived in town, but I am not here for my pleasure, or even for the pleasure of the friends I am staying with. I am here for the sake of my sister, who I mentioned is disappointed in love.

She is not shy like your sister, but mild-tempered and full of every one of her friends' merits—and blind to their faults. Are you a doting older brother who spoils his little sister, or are you the younger brother who desires to take the action a man is expected to, but is thwarted by an older sister who knows all his childhood misdeeds? I am guessing the former, given how resolute and, perhaps I might even add, unyielding you seem to be. You have the manner of an older sibling and eldest son rather than one in the middle or youngest. Now I give you leave to guess where I fall in birth order and if I have any siblings other than the sister mentioned.

I admit to some satisfaction that you are not a shy man. It is difficult to engage with a diffident person. One could do it more easily in person with smiles and gestures, but in a letter, it would be trying. A serious or reserved person, I think I could draw out in person, and you do not seem reluctant toward conversation. Hopefully, you have the patience for playful discussions as much as rational ones.

You begged me to argue with you, and I suspect an opportunity will present itself, but not regarding the panorama. I hate to agree with you so early in our acquaintance, but it was like being in the scene depicted. I went for the first time recently and thoroughly enjoyed it. Do not fear that I am deferring to you or flattering your good taste. Women are instructed that is the way to gain a man's respect, and I am sorry to disappoint my newest friend, but I would never agree with you simply for the sake of catering to your taste. Let us hope I detest the next thing you say you enjoy.

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 is The 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 take visitors 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, 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 read The Scottish Chiefs , but I have read Thaddeus of Warsaw . Did you know that Miss Porter has a sister who is also a novelist? Her favourite of mine is The Hungarian 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 with The 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,

F