________________________________________________
_ ACT II - SCENE I
[Enter CHARLOTTE and LETITIA.]
CHARLOTTE.
[at entering].
BETTY, take those things out of the carriage and carry them to my
chamber; see that you don't tumble them. My dear, I protest, I think
it was the homeliest of the whole. I declare I was almost tempted to
return and change it.
LETITIA.
Why would you take it?
CHARLOTTE.
Didn't Mrs. Catgut say it was the most fashionable?
LETITIA.
But, my dear, it will never fit becomingly on you.
CHARLOTTE.
I know that; but did you not hear Mrs. Catgut say it was fashionable?
LETITIA.
Did you see that sweet airy cap with the white sprig?
CHARLOTTE.
Yes, and I longed to take it; but, my dear, what could I do? Did not
Mrs. Catgut say it was the most fashionable; and if I had not taken it,
was not that awkward, gawky, Sally Slender, ready to purchase it
immediately?
LETITIA.
Did you observe how she tumbled over the things at the next shop, and
then went off without purchasing anything, nor even thanking the poor
man for his trouble? But, of all the awkward creatures, did you see
Miss Blouze endeavouring to thrust her unmerciful arm into those small
kid gloves?
CHARLOTTE.
Ha, ha, ha, ha!
LETITIA.
Then did you take notice with what an affected warmth of friendship she
and Miss Wasp met? when all their acquaintance know how much pleasure
they take in abusing each other in every company.
CHARLOTTE.
Lud! Letitia, is that so extraordinary? Why, my dear, I hope you are
not going to turn sentimentalist. Scandal, you know, is but amusing
ourselves with the faults, foibles, follies, and reputations of our
friends; indeed, I don't know why we should have friends, if we are not
at liberty to make use of them. But no person is so ignorant of the
world as to suppose, because I amuse myself with a lady's faults, that
I am obliged to quarrel with her person every time we meet: believe me,
my dear, we should have very few acquaintance at that rate.
[SERVANT enters and delivers a letter to CHARLOTTE, and--[Exit.]
CHARLOTTE.
You'll excuse me, my dear.
[Opens and reads to herself.]
LETITIA.
Oh, quite excusable.
CHARLOTTE.
As I hope to be married, my brother Henry is in the city.
LETITIA.
What, your brother, Colonel Manly?
CHARLOTTE.
Yes, my dear; the only brother I have in the world.
LETITIA.
Was he never in this city?
CHARLOTTE.
Never nearer than Harlem Heights, where he lay with his regiment.
LETITIA.
What sort of a being is this brother of yours? If he is as chatty, as
pretty, as sprightly as you, half the belles in the city will be
pulling caps for him.
CHARLOTTE.
My brother is the very counterpart and reverse of me: I am gay, he is
grave; I am airy, he is solid; I am ever selecting the most pleasing
objects for my laughter, he has a tear for every pitiful one. And
thus, whilst he is plucking the briars and thorns from the path of the
unfortunate, I am strewing my own path with roses.
LETITIA.
My sweet friend, not quite so poetical, and a little more particular.
CHARLOTTE.
Hands off, Letitia. I feel the rage of simile upon me; I can't talk to
you in any other way. My brother has a heart replete with the noblest
sentiments, but then, it is like--it is like--Oh! you provoking girl,
you have deranged all my ideas--it is like--Oh! I have it--his heart is
like an old maiden lady's bandbox; it contains many costly things,
arranged with the most scrupulous nicety, yet the misfortune is that
they are too delicate, costly, and antiquated for common use.
LETITIA.
By what I can pick out of your flowery description, your brother is no beau.
CHARLOTTE.
No, indeed; he makes no pretension to the character. He'd ride, or
rather fly, an hundred miles to relieve a distressed object, or to do a
gallant act in the service of his country; but should you drop your fan
or bouquet in his presence, it is ten to one that some beau at the
farther end of the room would have the honour of presenting it to you
before he had observed that it fell. I'll tell you one of his
antiquated, anti-gallant notions. He said once in my presence, in a
room full of company,--would you believe it?--in a large circle of
ladies, that the best evidence a gentleman could give a young lady of
his respect and affection was to endeavour in a friendly manner to
rectify her foibles. I protest I was crimson to the eyes, upon
reflecting that I was known as his sister.
LETITIA.
Insupportable creature! tell a lady of her faults! if he is so grave, I
fear I have no chance of captivating him.
CHARLOTTE.
His conversation is like a rich, old-fashioned brocade,--it will stand
alone; every sentence is a sentiment. Now you may judge what a time I
had with him, in my twelve months' visit to my father. He read me such
lectures, out of pure brotherly affection, against the extremes of
fashion, dress, flirting, and coquetry, and all the other dear things
which he knows I doat upon, that I protest his conversation made me as
melancholy as if I had been at church; and heaven knows, though I never
prayed to go there but on one occasion, yet I would have exchanged his
conversation for a psalm and a sermon. Church is rather melancholy, to
be sure; but then I can ogle the beaux, and be regaled with "here
endeth the first lesson," but his brotherly here, you would think had
no end. You captivate him! Why, my dear, he would as soon fall in
love with a box of Italian flowers. There is Maria, now, if she were
not engaged, she might do something. Oh! how I should like to see that
pair of pensorosos together, looking as grave as two sailors' wives of
a stormy night, with a flow of sentiment meandering through their
conversation like purling streams in modern poetry.
LETITIA.
Oh! my dear fanciful--
CHARLOTTE.
Hush! I hear some person coming through the entry.
[Enter SERVANT.]
SERVANT.
Madam, there's a gentleman below who calls himself Colonel Manly; do
you chuse to be at home?
CHARLOTTE.
Shew him in.
[Exit Servant.]
Now for a sober face.
[Enter Colonel MANLY.]
MANLY.
My dear Charlotte, I am happy that I once more enfold you within the
arms of fraternal affection. I know you are going to ask (amiable
impatience!) how our parents do,--the venerable pair transmit you their
blessing by me. They totter on the verge of a well-spent life, and
wish only to see their children settled in the world, to depart in
peace.
CHARLOTTE.
I am very happy to hear that they are well. [Coolly.] Brother, will
you give me leave to introduce you to our uncle's ward, one of my most
intimate friends?
MANLY.
[saluting Letitia].
I ought to regard your friends as my own.
CHARLOTTE.
Come, Letitia, do give us a little dash of your vivacity; my brother is
so sentimental and so grave, that I protest he'll give us the vapours.
MANLY.
Though sentiment and gravity, I know, are banished the polite world,
yet I hoped they might find some countenance in the meeting of such
near connections as brother and sister.
CHARLOTTE.
Positively, brother, if you go one step further in this strain, you
will set me crying, and that, you know, would spoil my eyes; and then I
should never get the husband which our good papa and mamma have so
kindly wished me--never be established in the world.
MANLY.
Forgive me, my sister,--I am no enemy to mirth; I love your
sprightliness; and I hope it will one day enliven the hours of some
worthy man; but when I mention the respectable authors of my
existence,--the cherishers and protectors of my helpless infancy, whose
hearts glow with such fondness and attachment that they would willingly
lay down their lives for my welfare,--you will excuse me if I am so
unfashionable as to speak of them with some degree of respect and
reverence.
CHARLOTTE.
Well, well, brother; if you won't be gay, we'll not differ; I will be
as grave as you wish. [Affects gravity.] And so, brother, you have
come to the city to exchange some of your commutation notes for a
little pleasure?
MANLY.
Indeed you are mistaken; my errand is not of amusement, but business;
and as I neither drink nor game, my expenses will be so trivial, I
shall have no occasion to sell my notes.
CHARLOTTE.
Then you won't have occasion to do a very good thing. Why, here was
the Vermont General--he came down some time since, sold all his musty
notes at one stroke, and then laid the cash out in trinkets for his
dear Fanny. I want a dozen pretty things myself; have you got the
notes with you?
MANLY.
I shall be ever willing to contribute, as far as it is in my power, to
adorn or in any way to please my sister; yet I hope I shall never be
obliged for this to sell my notes. I may be romantic, but I preserve
them as a sacred deposit. Their full amount is justly due to me, but
as embarrassments, the natural consequences of a long war, disable my
country from supporting its credit, I shall wait with patience until it
is rich enough to discharge them. If that is not in my day, they shall
be transmitted as an honourable certificate to posterity, that I have
humbly imitated our illustrious WASHINGTON, in having exposed my health
and life in the service of my country, without reaping any other reward
than the glory of conquering in so arduous a contest.
CHARLOTTE.
Well said heroics. Why, my dear Henry, you have such a lofty way of
saying things, that I protest I almost tremble at the thought of
introducing you to the polite circles in the city. The belles would
think you were a player run mad, with your head filled with old scraps
of tragedy; and as to the beaux, they might admire, because they would
not understand you. But, however, I must, I believe, introduce you to
two or three ladies of my acquaintance.
LETITIA.
And that will make him acquainted with thirty or forty beaux.
CHARLOTTE.
Oh! brother, you don't know what a fund of happiness you have in store.
MANLY.
I fear, sister, I have not refinement sufficient to enjoy it.
CHARLOTTE.
Oh! you cannot fail being pleased.
LETITIA.
Our ladies are so delicate and dressy.
CHARLOTTE.
And our beaux so dressy and delicate.
LETITIA.
Our ladies chat and flirt so agreeably.
CHARLOTTE.
And our beaux simper and bow so gracefully.
LETITIA.
With their hair so trim and neat.
CHARLOTTE.
And their faces so soft and sleek.
LETITIA.
Their buckles so tonish and bright.
CHARLOTTE.
And their hands so slender and white.
LETITIA.
I vow, Charlotte, we are quite poetical.
CHARLOTTE.
And then, brother, the faces of the beaux are of such a lily-white hue!
None of that horrid robustness of constitution, that vulgar corn-fed
glow of health, which can only serve to alarm an unmarried lady with
apprehension, and prove a melancholy memento to a married one, that she
can never hope for the happiness of being a widow. I will say this to
the credit of our city beaux, that such is the delicacy of their
complexion, dress, and address, that, even had I no reliance upon the
honour of the dear Adonises, I would trust myself in any possible
situation with them, without the least apprehensions of rudeness.
MANLY.
Sister Charlotte!
CHARLOTTE.
Now, now, now, brother [interrupting him], now don't go to spoil my
mirth with a dash of your gravity; I am so glad to see you, I am in
tiptop spirits. Oh! that you could be with us at a little snug party.
There is Billy Simper, Jack Chaffe, and Colonel Van Titter, Miss
Promonade, and the two Miss Tambours, sometimes make a party, with some
other ladies, in a side-box at the play. Everything is conducted with
such decorum. First we bow round to the company in general, then to
each one in particular, then we have so many inquiries after each
other's health, and we are so happy to meet each other, and it is so
many ages since we last had that pleasure, and if a married lady is in
company, we have such a sweet dissertation upon her son Bobby's
chin-cough; then the curtain rises, then our sensibility is all awake,
and then, by the mere force of apprehension, we torture some harmless
expression into a double meaning, which the poor author never dreamt
of, and then we have recourse to our fans, and then we blush, and then
the gentlemen jog one another, peep under the fan, and make the
prettiest remarks; and then we giggle and they simper, and they giggle
and we simper, and then the curtain drops, and then for nuts and
oranges, and then we bow, and it's pray, Ma'am, take it, and pray, Sir,
keep it, and oh! not for the world, Sir; and then the curtain rises
again, and then we blush and giggle and simper and bow all over again.
Oh! the sentimental charms of a side-box conversation! [All laugh.]
MANLY.
Well, sister, I join heartily with you in the laugh; for, in my
opinion, it is as justifiable to laugh at folly as it is reprehensible
to ridicule misfortune.
CHARLOTTE.
Well, but, brother, positively I can't introduce you in these clothes:
why, your coat looks as if it were calculated for the vulgar purpose of
keeping yourself comfortable.
MANLY.
This coat was my regimental coat in the late war. The public tumults
of our state have induced me to buckle on the sword in support of that
government which I once fought to establish. I can only say, sister,
that there was a time when this coat was respectable, and some people
even thought that those men who had endured so many winter campaigns in
the service of their country, without bread, clothing, or pay, at least
deserved that the poverty of their appearance should not be ridiculed.
CHARLOTTE.
We agree in opinion entirely, brother, though it would not have done
for me to have said it: it is the coat makes the man respectable. In
the time of the war, when we were almost frightened to death, why, your
coat was respectable, that is, fashionable; now another kind of coat is
fashionable, that is, respectable. And pray direct the taylor to make
yours the height of the fashion.
MANLY.
Though it is of little consequence to me of what shape my coat is, yet,
as to the height of the fashion, there you will please to excuse me,
sister. You know my sentiments on that subject. I have often lamented
the advantage which the French have over us in that particular. In
Paris, the fashions have their dawnings, their routine, and
declensions, and depend as much upon the caprice of the day as in other
countries; but there every lady assumes a right to deviate from the
general ton as far as will be of advantage to her own appearance. In
America, the cry is, what is the fashion? and we follow it
indiscriminately, because it is so.
CHARLOTTE.
Therefore it is, that when large hoops are in fashion, we
often see many a plump girl lost in the immensity of a hoop-petticoat,
whose want of height and en-bon-point would never have been remarked in
any other dress. When the high head-dress is the mode, how then do we
see a lofty cushion, with a profusion of gauze, feathers, and ribband,
supported by a face no bigger than an apple! whilst a broad full-faced
lady, who really would have appeared tolerably handsome in a large
head-dress, looks with her smart chapeau as masculine as a soldier.
MANLY.
But remember, my dear sister, and I wish all my fair country-women
would recollect, that the only excuse a young lady can have for going
extravagantly into a fashion is because it makes her look extravagantly
handsome.--Ladies, I must wish you a good morning.
CHARLOTTE.
But, brother, you are going to make home with us.
MANLY.
Indeed I cannot. I have seen my uncle and explained that matter.
CHARLOTTE.
Come and dine with us, then. We have a family dinner about half-past
four o'clock.
MANLY.
I am engaged to dine with the Spanish ambassador. I was introduced to
him by an old brother officer; and instead of freezing me with a cold
card of compliment to dine with him ten days hence, he, with the true
old Castilian frankness, in a friendly manner, asked me to dine with
him to-day--an honour I could not refuse. Sister, adieu--Madam, your
most obedient--[Exit.]
CHARLOTTE.
I will wait upon you to the door, brother; I have something particular
to say to you.
[Exit.]
LETITIA.
[alone.]
What a pair!--She the pink of flirtation, he the essence of everything
that is outre and gloomy.--I think I have completely deceived Charlotte
by my manner of speaking of Mr. Dimple; she's too much the friend of
Maria to be confided in. He is certainly rendering himself
disagreeable to Maria, in order to break with her and proffer his hand
to me. This is what the delicate fellow hinted in our last
conversation.
[Exit.] _
Read next: Act 2 - Scene 2
Read previous: Act 1 - Scene 2
Table of content of Contrast
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
