_From Miss Cowley to Miss Hardcastle._
"Six mails due from Lisbon! and yet Rachel Cowley talks with
contentment of the _celestial weather_!" To be sure she does, my dear
Miss Hardcastle, and for the simplest reason on earth. If _I_ be
disappointed, Horace is _not_; and I can subsist upon his happiness,
and be thankful. Besides, it is something in my favour to reflect,
that the very elements can be _obstinate_ as well as myself. You
tell me, that it is begun to be suspected, that my rejection of my
Jamaica pretender, with my refusal of Sir George's reiterated and
_generous_ offers, arise from some engagement of a tender kind between
Horace and myself. Be so good as to inform the good people who so
carefully qualify their words, that _I am engaged_, that I make no
secret of my engagement, and that in defiance of Lady Coldstream's
lecture to me at ten years old, I still love, _passionately love_,
Horace Hardcastle, and almond biscuits. I remember perfectly the
solemnity of her face when she observed that "young ladies were to
love nothing _passionately_." It may therefore be as well to inform
her, that I only love _obstinately_; if such it must be thought, to
prefer that virtue which has rendered me virtuous. If to cherish an
affection resulting from the best gifts of nature, and sanctioned by
my reason and principles, be to be culpable, I am of all women most
to be censured and condemned; for I glory in my shame, and rejoice
at my defeat. But you will say, that even Horace Hardcastle must
fall short of that elevation to which my fond imagination has raised
him. You are deceived; I neither expect, nor even wish for absolute
perfection in a husband. My eyes are human, too strong a light would
but dazzle and confound them. But I love Horace even in his foibles;
twelve years acquaintance with them have made them _my own_, as well
as his virtues. But to be serious, tell me to whose influence was your
dear mother indebted for a docility on my part which she did not even
expect from the untamed rebel to all constraint. To whom am I indebted
for patience, and forbearance now? What moral attainment, what acquired
knowledge do I possess, that has not been encouraged by Horace's
example? I never was, nor ever shall be, one of your sentimental misses
who can at pleasure decorate any man with the trappings of a hero
in romance. I think, if I can judge of myself, that I am ungentle by
nature, and so fond of freedom, as to love but little the shackles
which some so eagerly seek. I am confident however, that I have one
ingredient necessary for perfect love: _for I fear_, and I always
have feared Horace. How often has his reproving eye recalled me to
obedience and submission! What has been the delight, when by my little
exertions, and petty triumphs over my turbulent spirit, I have seen
his face glowing with pleasure, and heard his joy expressed by his
saying, "Rachel Cowley will be as gentle and amiable as my mother!" I
am persuaded that Heaven has destined Horace Hardcastle to be my guide
and my protector. I should faint and tire in the road of duty with a
companion whose paths I had to chuse and point out. But with Horace
Hardcastle I shall be safe, for he will neither loiter himself, nor
permit me to relax in search of that virtue which leads to peace. I
would rather live to feed monkeys and nurse cats and kittens, than to
be the wife of a man no wiser than myself. Negative virtues will not
satisfy me, I must be the wife of a man whose understanding and whose
conduct will preserve active the emulation my mind requires. In a
word, I must esteem, respect, and even _fear a little_ the man, whom
it will be my duty to obey. Now have the charity to point out to me a
man better qualified to direct my mutinous spirit than your brother?
You cannot. Be then perfectly indifferent to the nonsense you hear
from empty heads and cold hearts. I leave such without malice to their
opinions of happiness; if they be satisfied it is well. It is not my
business to investigate the solidity of those principles from which
their opinions originate; but whilst I feel that my own correspond
with all that is worthy of a reasonable and responsible being, I will
adhere to them, and laugh at the advice I know to be no better than
folly in a grave dress. You will perceive I am not in one of my gentle
moods. I should not have been so guarded, had I met my kind friend
Lady V----. She is a simpleton. Her son behaved properly, and Rachel
Cowley's rejection of his hand has neither lessened his merit, nor his
consequence. Adieu my dear girl, and believe me always yours,
R. Cowley.