Probably the fair unknown is amiable, since her person is so attractive. I have ever found more talents, sense, and, above all, gentleness, amongst handsome young women than plain ones. Indeed, the highest kind of beauty, expression, is essentially indicative of softness, or intelligence, or sensibility; as the lower kinds give proof of that perfect health and organization which is always favourable to good-humour and vivacity. If handsome women do not shine so often in mature life as artists or authoresses, it is from having generally had a wider choice in marriage, and therefore becoming wives and mothers; while the others, remaining single, have had leisure for improvement.
TO THE SAME.
London, March, 1809.
I brought to my box last night Mr. and Mrs. Langham. No party is so comfortable to me as a happy married pair. They are usually satisfied and amused with the spectacle: the lady is neither looking askant at the door, nor regretting that my box conceals her from the public eye, nor hinting at the number of men that are in other boxes, nor wanting to go into The Room; while the gentleman takes care of me out, without expecting to be repaid by my chatting and being on the qui vive, in return for the favour. I was particularly pleased at taking them. She is the favourite niece of Lady Jones, and he the son of Lady Langham, two excellent women, who loaded me with attentions, invitations, and tickets for concerts, &c., on the delightful first winter I passed in London, when (deprived of my birthright by a concurrence of circumstances one would think could hardly have occurred to one whose infancy and girlhood was so hedged round by precautions, and by all the foresight of provident affection) I appeared in this great town literally as a desolate orphan, without one appendage of affluence, ignorant, when the fifty pounds in my last draft were gone, where to get another; in short, exactly like the birds, with nothing to recommend me among strangers but my plumage and my song (insignificant as they were), and, like them also, ‘content and careless of to-morrow’s fare.’ Excuse this egotism; you encourage it when it tends to cheerful reflections; and I cannot look back on that winter, the kindness shown me, and the protecting hand of Providence in throwing me not merely among affectionate, but moral and good people, without infinite gratitude to that Power which brought me happily through a situation so dangerous in every point of view. What might have become of me in the world’s eye, if at that age I had fallen into the intimacies which it was unfortunate to make at any time; but which were of so much less consequence when youth, bloom, and novelty no longer made me conspicuous; when poverty no longer threatened to be my companion; and when I was quietly domiciliée? However, Providence has brought me now to the haven where I would be, as far as this life goes: and I wish and pray for nothing but a continuance of my present blessings. For nothing! a strange-sounding phrase, when I possess everything I can desire.
April, 1809.—On reading Lord Byron’s English Bards and Scotch Reviewers:—
Here wit and humour willing smiles excite,
Yet who can read the volume with delight?