Another wedding day

Miss D- is in the most unwont’d state of the frets; sure 'tis the most unusual of days when Miss A- performs as the voice of calm, as we attend her to her wedding. We help her down from my carriage, that has convey’d us to the church, and she trembles as if she can barely walk.

But once we are within the church we see Mr N-, attend’d by Mr P-, at the altar, and a few other guests including Mrs O’C- (tho’ sure she must consider this no proper wedding outside her own Church) and Mr G- D- with his wife, who looks as tho' she goes about to present him with another set of twins. Miss D- stands more straight and walks with a firm tread down the aisle.

She makes the responses very firm and clear – and sure this is an occasion when even Mr N- must be laconick.

Afterwards we all repair to a private room at M. Duval’s eating-house, where there are further guests who come to celebrate this marriage. A fine feast has been spread (tho’ not as fine as Seraphine or Euphemia might provide), and Miss D-, or rather Mrs N- as we must now style her, goes about very pretty and thoughtfull towards her spouse, for example, desiring him to eschew venturing upon the lobster salad, for it will always lye heavy upon him. Sure, she says with a roguish sideways look, I do not want to spend my wedding-night ministering to a husband that groans with the colick. Mr N- looks most delight’d at this wifely teazing and pats her hand.

I see that it gives her considerable consequence among his acquaintance to be attend’d by a Dowager Marchioness and one of the most not’d actresses of the London stage, so I am pleas’d that we could serve our friend in this fashion. Miss A- is of course besieg’d by admirers, and I do not show so bad myself, tho’ as ever I daresay that there are those that would desire to hear scandalous tales concerning my former life rather than accounts of the splendid work the T-s undertake in New South Wales.

There are toasts drunk, and a few songs suitable to the occasion from Mr G- D-, and then the happy couple set off upon their wedding journey to Worthing.

I ask Miss A- if I can take her anywhere in my carriage. Oh, says she, if you drop me at the theatre, Mr J- and I go about to work with Miss R-: 'twill I hope distract his mind, for 'tis a sad day for him.

Indeed, I say, he has really become most attacht to Mrs N-, and sure she has considerable feelings towards him, 'tis no longer a mere diversion as it at first was. But in her position a woman must feel quite strongly the advantages of matrimony, tho’ I confide that she also has a fondness for Mr N-.

Oh, indeed, she has a great sense of his merits! says Miss A-. 'Tis quite pretty. Sure I am not inclin’d to marriage myself, but my dear Lady J- talks of providing a settlement: and altho’ at present I do very well, I mind that I am in a precarious profession and publick favour is fickle.

Indeed it is most pleasing to have some little cushion against times of hardship: I still remember the immense relief that came over me when I got the news of dear General Y-'s bequest, for it came at a time when I was – o, not quite in distress, but a little troubl’d over maintaining my consequence.

But, she goes on, do you not wonder why Mrs O’C- does not go about to marry Mr P-?

O, says I, it is a matter of religion, because she is of the Romish faith and only counts their ceremonies as true marriage.

I cannot suppose Mr P- would concede to that! says Miss A- laughing. (But indeed, I begin to wonder whether, did Mrs O’C- desire marriage in the rites of her Church, she could persuade Mr P- in the matter. However, I think that her experience with Mr O’C- turn’d her quite entirely against husbands.)

I drop Miss A- off at the theatre and drive home, where I change from a gown suitable for the morning’s undertakings to dress more appropriate for an afternoon call at M- House about Greek pots.

Comes Sandy so that we may go together: sure I think that he is in an entire fuss over the matter tho’ I confide that he would deny it, and indeed, goes about to conceal it beneath a dour Calvinistickal glare.

At M- House a room has been found with a long table whereupon the pots may be laid out. Viola is there looking nervous: Biffle and Lady J- are also in the room. Biffle nods to Sandy extreme civil – for they will have met at the politickal dinners - and I go about to effect an introduction to Lady J-.

I am most extreme surpriz’d when Sandy says something in commendation of Lady J-'s translations of Sappho and the difficulties of translating Antient Greek into English that he considers that she surmount’d. She remarks that she had a particular challenge in the task to render them suitable to be sung. They then embark upon a discussion of the classicks which it is clear gives them both considerable satisfaction but is quite opaque to the rest of the company.

But, says Lady J- at length, to these pots that Her Grace has discover’d hidden in our attics. You are known to be of the cognoscenti in these matters –

Sandy shrugs, and says he had the immeasurable benefit of converse with the late Marquess of B- before his sad and untimely demise, and of overlooking his collection of antiquities (I do not giggle), but is sure that there must be greater experts, perchance at the British Museum. He picks up one of the pots very delicate and scrutinizes it closely.

Indeed, he says, he is strongly inclin’d to suppose this quite the genuine article - for there are those that make a trade in spurious copies and imitations and sometimes even virtuosi are deceiv’d.

Viola says that they have to hand the letters concerning the matter. Sandy thanks her somewhat absent-mind’d as she hands them to him and he starts perusing them. Biffle and I exchange glances and small smiles.

Ah, says Sandy, excellent, I perceive that there is an inventory includ’d here. Lady J- looks over his shoulder. Oh, she says, 'tis written in Greek. There is a low murmur between them as they go about translating.

Biffle comes over and takes Viola’s hand and says, no, he does not think she should quite immediate start studying Antient Greek, but indeed, if when she feels she has obtain’d sufficient mastery of the several tongues she already studies she is still of like mind, he dares say they may find some tutor. Along, he adds, with the one in Sanskrit. Viola blushes a little as she looks fondly up at him.

I see, he says, picking up one of the pots to quite matcht expressions of horror from Lady J- and Sandy, that the Antient Greeks includ’d ladies in their drinking parties.

His sister removes it from his hand and puts it down very carefull in its little nest of straw, while Sandy explains that they are not what could be exact describ’d as ladies, but women who, altho’ courtesans, were not’d for their great cultivation, their talents and their wit and consider’d to be companions with whom men could enjoy the higher pleasures of life – for wives, he goes on, were expect’d to bear children and concern themselves with running the household.

Sure, says I, I know not why a woman cannot do both. Lady J- looks at me and says, Exactly. 'Tis entirely an excuse by the male sex.

There is a certain awkwardness as I daresay all recollect that my own position has not been unlike that of these Antient Greek women.

Biffle remarks that sure there is a quandary as to the ownership of the pots, for they were left as it were entrust’d by the friend of the Duke’s brother, purely to ensure their safety while he undertook further expeditions. But it sounds from the letters that there was no heir. He is inclin’d to the plan of presenting them to the British Museum.

But, says Lady J-, we should first see if this is an accurate inventory, for it would be of very great utility to them if it is. I could give a little time to the matter, tho’ indeed I have much pressing business on hand –

Sandy interjects, that if he can be of any assistance, he would be most happy -

Oh, Mr MacD-, your knowledge in the matter would be of most infinite value! I should be quite exceedingly gratefull for your advice.

Let us, says Viola, repair to my parlour and I will send for tea, for I see that this is not a task that can be accomplisht this afternoon.

Indeed, says Lady J-, we should not get carry’d away by enthusiasm.

As we go downstairs Biffle murmurs to me that it is very seldom that his sister will give any fellow of the male sex credit for sense, never mind learning, but sure she takes to MacD-. Indeed, says I, 'tis a sympathy born in Greece of antient times.

Indeed she has little opportunity to discourse of classickal learning, he says, as I am sure she should like.

We go into Viola’s parlour and tea is brought. Lady J- and Sandy continue to converse of classickal matters: this is most unlike her, to ignore the rest of the company.

I ask what languages Viola is studying at the moment: she says German, French, and Italian, also, with a glance at Biffle, Turkish. I mention that my dear friend the Contessa proposes a visit to London from Naples, she was really most exceeding kind to me when I was out there, and altho’ I daresay there are already those in Town who remember her, I should like to introduce her around our circle.

When I rise to leave – for indeed the hour to dine is drawing on apace – Lady J- and Sandy are still engrossed in a heat’d, tho' amiable, discussion on Greek poetry. He looks up and says that indeed he has taken up too much of their time already, but hopes to return to spend some more hours with the pots.

In the carriage he says he knows not why G- calls Lady J- that terrifying virago: she was exceeding charming and greatly learn’d in the classicks.

Also, says I, you may be assur’d she will not be about falling in love with you, by reason of her Sapphick disposition.

He gives me a dour Calvinistickal glare and says that there is such a thing as intellectual sympathy.

Sure, I say, a silly creature of no education would know nothing of that.