The interest I take in everything that concerns you, makes me very
importunate to know how you approve the gentleman, whom some of your
best friends and well-wishers have recommended to your favour. I hope
he will deserve your good opinion, and then he must excel most of the
unmarried gentlemen in England.
Your papa, in his humourous manner, mentions his large possessions and
riches; but were he as rich as Croesus, he should not have my consent,
if he has no greater merit; though that is what the generality of
parents look out for first; and indeed an easy fortune is so far from
being to be disregarded, that, when attended with equal merit, I think
it ought to have a _preference_ given to it, supposing affections
disengaged. For 'tis certain, that a man or woman may stand as good a
chance for happiness in marriage with a person of fortune, as with one
who has not that advantage; and notwithstanding I had neither riches
nor descent to boast of, I must be of opinion with those who say, that
they never knew any body despise either, that had them. But to permit
riches to be the _principal_ inducement, to the neglect of superior
merit, that is the fault which many a one smarts for, whether the
choice be their own, or imposed upon them by those who have a title to
their obedience.
Here is a saucy body, might some who have not Miss Darnford's kind
consideration for her friend, be apt to say, who being thus meanly
descended, nevertheless presumes to give her opinion, in these high
cases, unasked.--But I have this to say; that I think myself so
entirely divested of partiality to my own case, that, as far as my
judgment shall permit, I will never have that in view, when I am
presuming to hint my opinion of general rules. For, most surely, the
honours I have received, and the debasement to which my best friend
had subjected himself, have, for their principal excuse, that the
gentleman was entirely independent, had no questions to ask, and had
a fortune sufficient to make himself, as well as the person he
chose, happy, though she brought him nothing at all; and that he had,
moreover, such a character for good sense, and knowledge of the world,
that nobody could impute to him any other inducement, but that of a
noble resolution to reward a virtue he had so frequently, and, I will
say, so wickedly, tried, and could not subdue.
My dear Miss, let me, as a subject very pleasing to me, touch upon
your kind mention of the worthy Mr. Peters's sentiments to that
part of his conduct to me, which (oppressed by the terrors and
apprehensions to which I was subjected) once I censured; and the
readier, as I had so great an honour for his cloth, that I thought,
to be a clergyman, and all that was compassionate, good, and virtuous,
was the same thing.
But when I came to know Mr. Peters, I had a high opinion of his
worthiness, and as no one can be perfect in this life, thus I thought
to myself: How hard was then my lot, to be the cause of stumbling
to so worthy a heart. To be sure, a gentleman, one who knows, and
practises so well, his duty, in every other instance, and preaches it
so efficaciously to others, must have been _one day_ sensible, that it
would not have mis-become his function and character to have afforded
that protection to oppressed innocence, which was requested of him:
and how would it have grieved his considerate mind, had my ruin been
completed, that he did not!
But as he had once a namesake, as one may say, that failed in a much
greater instance, let not _my_ want of charity exceed _his_ fault;
but let me look upon it as an infirmity, to which the most perfect
are liable; I was a stranger to him; a servant girl carried off by
her master, a young gentleman of violent and lawless passions, who,
in this very instance, shewed how much in earnest he was set upon
effecting all his vile purposes; and whose heart, although _God_ might
touch, it was not probable any lesser influence could. Then he was not
sure, that, though he might assist my escape, I might not afterwards
fall again into the hands of so determined a violator: and that
difficulty would not, with such an one, enhance his resolution to
overcome all obstacles.
Moreover, he might think, that the person, who was moving him to this
worthy measure, possibly sought to gratify a view of his own, and that
while endeavouring to save, to outward appearance, a virtue in danger,
he was, in reality, only helping another to a wife, at the hazard of
exposing himself to the vindictiveness of a violent temper, and a rich
neighbour, who had power as well as will to resent; for such was his
apprehension, entirely groundless as it was, though not improbable, as
it might seem to him.
For all these considerations, I must pity, rather than too rigorously
censure, the worthy gentleman, and I will always respect him. And
thank him a thousand times, my dear, in my name, for his goodness in
condescending to acknowledge, by your hand, his infirmity, as such;
for this gives an excellent proof of the natural worthiness of his
heart; and that it is beneath him to seek to extenuate a fault, when
he thinks he has committed one.
Indeed, my dear friend, I have so much honour for the clergy of all
degrees, that I never forget in my prayers one article, that God will
make them shining lights to the world; since so much depends on their
ministry and examples, as well with respect to our public as private
duties. Nor shall the faults of a few make impression upon me to the
disadvantage of the order; for I am afraid a very censorious temper,
in this respect, is too generally the indication of an uncharitable
and perhaps a profligate heart, levelling characters, in order to
cover some inward pride, or secret enormities, which they are ashamed
to avow, and will not be instructed to amend.
Forgive, my dear, this tedious scribble; I cannot for my life write
short letters to those I love. And let me hope that you will favour
me with an account of your new affair, and how you proceed in it;
and with such of your conversations, as may give me some notion of a
polite courtship. For, alas! your poor friend knows nothing of this.
All her courtship was sometimes a hasty snatch of the hand, a black
and blue gripe of the arm, and--"Whither now?"--"Come to me when I bid
you!" And Saucy-face, and Creature, and such like, on his part--with
fear and trembling on mine; and--"I will, I will!--Good Sir, have
mercy!" At other times a scream, and nobody to hear or mind me; and
with uplift hands, bent knees, and tearful eyes--"For God's sake, pity
your poor servant."
This, my dear Miss Darnford, was the hard treatment that attended my
courtship--pray, then, let me know, how gentlemen court their equals
in degree; how they look when they address you, with their knees bent,
sighing, supplicating, and _all that_, as Sir Simon says, with the
words Slave, Servant, Admirer, continually at their tongue's end.
But after all, it will be found, I believe, that be the language and
behaviour ever so obsequious, it is all designed to end alike--The
English, the plain English, of the politest address, is,--"I am now,
dear Madam, your humble servant: pray be so good as to let me be your
master,"--"Yes, and thank you too," says the lady's heart, though not
her lips, if she likes him. And so they go to church together; and,
in conclusion, it will be happy, if these obsequious courtships end no
worse than my frightful one.
But I am convinced, that with a man of sense, a woman of tolerable
prudence _must_ be happy.
That whenever you marry, it may be to such a man, who then must value
you as you deserve, and make you happy as I now am, notwithstanding
all that's past, wishes and prays _your obliged friend and servant,_