It is with infinite regret that I think myself obliged, by pen and ink,
to repeat my apprehension, that it is impossible for me ever to obtain a
share in the affections of your beloved daughter. O that it were not too
evident to every one, as well as to myself, even to our very servants,
that my love for her, and my assiduities, expose me rather to her scorn
[forgive me, Madam, the hard word!] than to the treatment due to a man
whose proposals have met with your approbation, and who loves her above
all the women in the world!
Well might the merit of my passion be doubted, if, like Mr. Solmes to
the truly-admirably Miss Clarissa Harlowe, I could continue my addresses
to Miss Howe's distaste. Yet what will not the discontinuance cost me!
Give me leave, nevertheless, dearest, worthiest Lady, to repeat, what I
told you, on Monday night, at Mrs. Larkin's, with a heart even bursting
with grief, That I wanted not the treatment of that day to convince
me, that I am not, nor ever can be, the object of Miss Howe's voluntary
favour. What hopes can there be, that a lady will ever esteem, as a
husband, the man, whom, as a lover, she despises? Will not every act
of obligingness from such a one, be construed as an unmanly tameness
of spirit, and entitle him the more to her disdain?--My heart is full:
Forgive me, if I say, that Miss Howe's treatment of me does no credit
either to her education, or fine sense.
Since, then, it is too evident, that she cannot esteem me; and since, as
I have heard it justly observed by the excellent Miss Clarissa Harlowe,
that love is not a voluntary passion; would it not be ungenerous to
subject the dear daughter to the displeasure of a mother so justly fond
of her; and you, Madam, while you are so good as to interest yourself in
my favour, to uneasiness? And why, were I even to be sure, at last, of
succeeding by means of your kind partiality to me, should I wish to make
the best-beloved of my soul unhappy; since mutual must be our happiness,
or misery for life the consequence to both?
My best wishes will for ever attend the dear, the ever-dear lady! may
her nuptials be happy! they must be so, if she marry the man she can
honour with her love. Yet I will say, that whoever be the happy, the
thrice-happy man, he can never love her with a passion more ardent and
more sincere than mine.
Accept, dear Madam, of my most grateful thanks for a distinction that
has been the only support of my presumption in an address I am obliged,
as utterly hopeless, to discontinue. A distinction, on which (and not
on my own merits) I had entirely relied; but which, I find, can avail me
nothing. To the last hour of my life, it will give me pleasure to think,
that had your favour, your recommendation, been of sufficient weight to
conquer what seems to be an invincible aversion, I had been the happiest
of men.
I am, dear Madam, with inviolable respect, your ever obliged and
faithful humble servant, CHARLES HICKMAN.