Miss Rachel Pringle to Miss
Isabella Tod
London.
London.
My dear Bell—It was my
heartfelt intention to keep a regular journal of all our
proceedings, from the sad day on which I bade a long adieu to my
native shades—and I persevered with a constancy becoming
our dear and youthful friendship, in writing down everything that
I saw, either rare or beautiful, till the hour of our departure
from Leith. In that faithful register of my feelings and
reflections as a traveller, I described our embarkation at
Greenock, on board the steam-boat,—our sailing past
Port-Glasgow, an insignificant town, with a steeple;—the
stupendous rock of Dumbarton Castle, that Gibraltar of
antiquity;—our landing at Glasgow;—my astonishment at
the magnificence of that opulent metropolis of the muslin
manufacturers; my brother’s remark, that the punch-bowls on
the roofs of the Infirmary, the Museum, and the Trades Hall, were
emblematic of the universal estimation in which that celebrated
mixture is held by all ranks and degrees—learned,
commercial, and even medical, of the inhabitants;—our
arrival at Edinburgh—my emotion on beholding the Castle,
and the visionary lake which may be nightly seen from the windows
of Princes Street, between the Old and New Town, reflecting the
lights of the lofty city beyond—with a thousand other
delightful and romantic circumstances, which render it no longer
surprising that the Edinburgh folk should be, as they think
themselves, the most accomplished people in the world. But,
alas! from the moment I placed my foot on board that cruel
vessel, of which the very idea is anguish, all thoughts were
swallowed up in suffering-swallowed, did I say? Ah, my dear
Bell, it was the odious reverse—but imagination alone can
do justice to the subject. Not, however, to dwell on what
is past, during the whole time of our passage from Leith, I was
unable to think, far less to write; and, although there was a
handsome young Hussar officer also a passenger, I could not even
listen to the elegant compliments which he seemed disposed to
offer by way of consolation, when he had got the better of his
own sickness. Neither love nor valour can withstand the
influence of that sea-demon. The interruption thus
occasioned to my observations made me destroy my journal, and I
have now to write to you only about London—only about
London! What an expression for this human universe, as my
brother calls it, as if my weak feminine pen were equal to the
stupendous theme!
But, before entering on the subject, let me first satisfy the
anxiety of your faithful bosom with respect to my father’s
legacy. All the accounts, I am happy to tell you, are
likely to be amicably settled; but the exact amount is not known
as yet, only I can see, by my brother’s manner, that it is
not less than we expected, and my mother speaks about sending me
to a boarding-school to learn accomplishments. Nothing,
however, is to be done until something is actually in hand.
But what does it all avail to me? Here am I, a solitary
being in the midst of this wilderness of mankind, far from your
sympathising affection, with the dismal prospect before me of
going a second time to school, and without the prospect of
enjoying, with my own sweet companions, that light and bounding
gaiety we were wont to share, in skipping from tomb to tomb in
the breezy churchyard of Irvine, like butterflies in spring
flying from flower to flower, as a Wordsworth or a Wilson would
express it.
We have got elegant lodgings at present in Norfolk Street, but
my brother is trying, with all his address, to get us removed to
a more fashionable part of the town, which, if the accounts were
once settled, I think will take place; and he proposes to hire a
carriage for a whole month. Indeed, he has given hints
about the saving that might be made by buying one of our own; but
my mother shakes her head, and says, “Andrew, dinna be
carri’t.” From all which it is very plain,
though they don’t allow me to know their secrets, that the
legacy is worth the coming for. But to return to the
lodgings;—we have what is called a first and second floor,
a drawing-room, and three handsome bedchambers. The
drawing-room is very elegant; and the carpet is the exact same
pattern of the one in the dress-drawing-room of Eglintoun
Castle. Our landlady is indeed a lady, and I am surprised
how she should think of letting lodgings, for she dresses better,
and wears finer lace, than ever I saw in Irvine. But I am
interrupted.—
I now resume my pen. We have just had a call from Mrs.
and Miss Argent, the wife and daughter of the colonel’s man
of business. They seem great people, and came in their own
chariot, with two grand footmen behind; but they are pleasant and
easy, and the object of their visit was to invite us to a family
dinner to-morrow, Sunday. I hope we may become better
acquainted; but the two livery servants make such a difference in
our degrees, that I fear this is a vain expectation. Miss
Argent was, however, very frank, and told me that she was herself
only just come to London for the first time since she was a
child, having been for the last seven years at a school in the
country. I shall, however, be better able to say more about
her in my next letter. Do not, however, be afraid that she
shall ever supplant you in my heart. No, my dear friend,
companion of my days of innocence,—that can never be.
But this call from such persons of fashion looks as if the legacy
had given us some consideration; so that I think my father and
mother may as well let me know at once what my prospects are,
that I might show you how disinterestedly and truly I am, my dear
Bell, yours,
Rachel
Pringle.
When Miss Isabella Tod had read the letter, there was a solemn
pause for some time—all present knew something, more or
less, of the fair writer; but a carriage, a carpet like the best
at Eglintoun, a Hussar officer, and two footmen in livery, were
phantoms of such high import, that no one could distinctly
express the feelings with which the intelligence affected
them. It was, however, unanimously agreed, that the
Doctor’s legacy had every symptom of being equal to what it
was at first expected to be, namely, twenty thousand
pounds;—a sum which, by some occult or recondite moral
influence of the Lottery, is the common maximum, in popular
estimation, of any extraordinary and indefinite windfall of
fortune. Miss Becky Glibbans, from the purest motives of
charity, devoutly wished that poor Rachel might be able to carry
her full cup with a steady hand; and the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, that
so commendable an expression might not lose its edifying effect
by any lighter talk, requested Mr. Micklewham to read his letter
from the Doctor.
