Jane Austen

Bath, June 11th.

My dear Cassandra,

I am very much flattered by your commendation of my last Letter, for I write only for Fame, and without any view to pecuniary Emolument.

Edward is gone to spend the day with his friends at Clifton. We are to have a tiny party here tonight; I hate tiny parties—they force one into constant exertion. Miss Edwards and her father, Mr. Bailey and his daughter, my uncle and Miss Holder. That’s all—but if they stay late they will completely ruin me, for I shall be obliged to sit up for them.

Our acquaintance increase too fast. He was recognised lately by Admiral Stanhope, and a few days since arrived the Boyles, our Godmersham acquaintance. Not the John Boyles, but the William Boyles. They are both daughters of the late Sir Courtenay Boyle, and are now I believe about five and twenty and seven and twenty years old. The fashions here are various as the people. Some walk about with enormous bonnets and others with their hair dressed high, and some again quite in the neck.

I would not let Martha read “First Impressions” again upon any account, and am very glad that I did not leave it in your power. She is very cunning, but I saw through her design; she means to publish it from memory, and one more perusal must enable her to do it. As I am myself moreover too much attached to it, I am resolved to guard against the infection spreading further.

I will answer your kind inquiries more at large when I can write at leisure, but for the present must content myself with saying that we all continue in good health, and that I have taken to wearing my hair in a crop, which I think makes me look very smart indeed, though Martha declares it makes me look like a sheep. But I have not the slightest intention of changing it back, as it is much more convenient for walking and requires no pins whatever.

Our plans for the summer remain quite unsettled. Much will depend upon Edward’s movements, and we hear nothing decisive from him. The children are all well and send their love. Mary continues to be satisfied with Bath, and I think upon the whole we are none of us quite miserable here, which is more than I expected when we first made the arrangement to come.

Give my best love to my father and mother when you write, and tell them how much I long to see them again. I hope my father’s health continues good, and that the garden prospers under his care. I should like to hear news of all our old friends in the neighborhood, and whether any interesting events have occurred in our absence.

I must finish now as dinner is nearly ready, and afterwards I must prepare for our tiny party, odious as it is. I shall think of you enjoying the quiet evening at home while I am forced to make conversation about nothing in particular with people I hardly know.

Yours most affectionately, Jane

P.S.—I have this moment had the satisfaction of seeing Miss Armstrong cross the street in a white bonnet and purple spencer, which convinces me that she has not yet left Bath, contrary to what we heard yesterday.