_To Henry Colden_
Philadelphia, November 17.
I have just sent you a letter, but my restless spirit can find no
relief but in writing.
I torment myself without end in imagining what took place at your
meeting with my brother. I rely upon your equanimity; yet to what an
insupportable test will my brother's passions subject you! In how many
ways have I been the cause of pain and humiliation to you! Heaven, I hope,
will some time grant me the power to compensate yon for all that I have
culpably or innocently made you suffer.
What's this? A letter from my brother! The superscription is his.
* * * * *
Let me hasten, my friend, to give you a copy of this strange epistle.
It has neither date nor signature.
"I have talked with the man whom you have chosen to play the fool with.
I find him worthy of his mistress; a tame, coward-hearted, infatuated
blockhead.
"It was silly to imagine that any arguments would have weight with you
or with him. I have got my journey for my pains. Fain would I have
believed that you were worthy of a different situation; but I dismiss that
belief, and shall henceforth leave you to pursue your own dirty road,
without interruption.
"Had you opened your eyes to your true interest, I think I could have
made something of you. My wealth and my influence should not have been
spared in placing you in a station worthy of my sister. Every one,
however, must take his own way,--though it lead him into a slough or a
ditch.
"I intended to have virtually divided my fortune with you; to have
raised you to princely grandeur. But no; you are enamoured of the dirt,
and may cling to it as closely as you please.
"It is but justice, however, to pay what I owe you. I remember I
borrowed several sums of you; the whole amounted to fifteen hundred
dollars. _There_ they are, and much good may they do you. That sum
and the remnant which I left you may perhaps set the good man up in a
village shop,--may purchase an assortment of tapes, porringers, and
twelve-to-the-pound candles. The gleanings of the year may find you in
skimmed milk and hasty pudding three times a day, and you may enjoy
between whiles the delectable amusements of mending your husband's
stockings at one time, and serving a neighbour with a pennyworth of snuff
at another.
"Fare thee well, Jane. Farewell forever; for it must be a stronger
inducement than can possibly happen, that shall ever bring me back to this
land. I would see you ere I go, but we shall only scold; so, once more,
farewell, simpleton."
What think you of this letter? The enclosed bills were most unexpected
and acceptable presents. I am now twice as rich as I was. This visit of my
brother I was disposed to regret, but on the whole I ought, I think, to
regard it with satisfaction. By thus completely repairing the breach made
in my little patrimony, it has placed me in as good a situation as I ever
hoped to enjoy; besides, it has removed from my brother's character some
of the stains which used to discolour it. Ought I not to believe him
sincere in his wishes to do me service? We cannot agree exactly in our
notion of duty or happiness, but that difference takes not away from him
the merit of a generous intention. He would have done me good in his
way.
Methinks I am sorry he is gone. I would fain have parted with him as a
sister ought. A few tears and a few blessings were not unworthy such an
occasion. Most fervently should I have poured my blessings upon him. I
wish he had indulged me with another visit; especially as we were to part,
it seems, forever. One more visit and a kind embrace from my only brother
would have been kept in melancholy, sweet remembrance.
Perhaps we shall meet again. Perhaps, some day, thou and I shall go to
France. We will visit him together, and witness, with our own eyes, his
good fortune. Time may make him gentle, kind, considerate, brotherly. Time
has effected greater wonders than that; for I will always maintain that my
brother has a noble nature: stifled and obscured it may be, but not
extinguished.