To MRS. RUXTON.
Jan. 1, 1825.
A happy new year to you, my dearest aunt,—to you to whom I now look as
much as I can to any one now living, for the rays of pleasure that I
expect to gild my bright evening of life. As we advance in life we
become more curious, more fastidious in gilding and gilders; we find to
our cost that all that glitters is not gold, and your everyday bungling
carvers and gilders will not do. Our evening-gilders must be more
skilful than those who flashed and daubed away in the morning of life, and gilt with any tinsel, the weather-cock for the morning sun.
You may perceive, my dear aunt, by my having got so finely to the
weather-cock, and the rising sun, that I am out of the hands of all my
dear apothecaries, and playing away again with a superfluity of life. (N.B. I am surprisingly prudent.) Honora's cough has almost subsided, and Lucy can sit upright the greater part of the day. "GOD bless the mark!" as Molly Bristow would say, if she heard me, "don't be bragging."
Jan. 6.
I have to give you the most cheering accounts of Honora and Lucy. Honora
is now on the sofa opposite to me, working with her candle beside her on
a bracket—my new year's gift to the sofas, a mahogany bracket on each
side of the chimney-piece to fold up or down, and large enough to hold a
candlestick and a teacup or work-box. Mary Beddoes and I are on the sofa
next the door; Honora and Anna on the other, and somebody sitting in the
middle talking by turns to each sofa. Who can that be? Not Harriet, for
tea is over and she has seceded to Lucy's room—not my mother, nor
William, nor Mrs. Beaufort, nor Louisa, for the carriage has carried
them away some hours ago, poor souls, and full-dressed bodies, to dine
at Ardagh. But who can this Unknown be? A gentleman it must be to
constitute the happiness of two sofas of ladies.
My nephew, Henry Beddoes! and the joy of ladies he certainly will be, not merely of aunts and sisters, but of all who can engage or be engaged by prepossessing manners and appearance, and the promise of all that is amiable and intelligent. I am delighted with him, and he would charm you.
Lady Bathurst has done me another good turn for Fanny Stewart, that is, for her husband; there was a charming letter from Fanny Stewart a few days ago. I send for your amusement the famous little Valoe in its elegantissimo binding, and Lady Bathurst's letter about it, elegantissima also. You remember, I hope, the story of its publication, written by a governess of the Duchess of Beaufort's, assisted by all the conclave of quality young-lady-governesses, with little traits of character of their pupils. The authoress sent it to the Duchess of Beaufort, asking permission to publish and dedicate it to her Grace. The Duchess never read it, and returned it to the Governess with a compliment, and, "publish it by all means, and dedicate it to me." Out came the publication; and though each young lady was flattered, yet all quarrelled with the mode of compliment, and in many there was a little touch of blame, which moved their or their mothers' anger, and with one accord they attacked the Duchess of Beaufort for her permission to publish, and the edition was all bought up in a vast hurry.