You will be surprised to find renewed, at this distance of time, an
address so positively though so politely discouraged: but, however it be
received, I must renew it. Every body has heard that you have been
vilely treated by a man who, to treat you ill, must be the vilest of men.
Every body knows your just resentment of his base treatment: that you are
determined never to be reconciled to him: and that you persist in these
sentiments against all the entreaties of his noble relations, against all
the prayers and repentance of his ignoble self. And all the world that
have the honour to know you, or have heard of him, applaud your
resolution, as worthy of yourself; worthy of your virtue, and of that
strict honour which was always attributed to you by every one who spoke
of you.
But, Madam, were all the world to have been of a different opinion, it
could never have altered mine. I ever loved you; I ever must love you.
Yet have I endeavoured to resign to my hard fate. When I had so many
ways, in vain, sought to move you in my favour, I sat down seemingly
contented. I even wrote to you that I would sit down contented. And I
endeavoured to make all my friends and companions think I was. But
nobody knows what pangs this self-denial cost me! In vain did the chace,
in vain did travel, in vain did lively company, offer themselves, and
were embraced in their turn: with redoubled force did my passion for you
renew my unhappiness, when I looked into myself, into my own heart; for
there did your charming image sit enthroned; and you engrossed me all.
I truly deplore those misfortunes, and those sufferings, for your own
sake; which nevertheless encourage me to renew my old hope. I know not
particulars. I dare not inquire after them; because my sufferings would
be increased with the knowledge of what your's have been. I therefore
desire not to know more than what common report wounds my ears with; and
what is given me to know, by your absence from your cruel family, and
from the sacred place, where I, among numbers of your rejected admirers,
used to be twice a week sure to behold you doing credit to that service
of which your example gave me the highest notions. But whatever be those
misfortunes, of whatsoever nature those sufferings, I shall bless the
occasion for my own sake (though for your's curse the author of them,) if
they may give me the happiness to know that this my renewed address may
not be absolutely rejected.--Only give me hope, that it may one day meet
with encouragement, if in the interim nothing happen, either in my morals
or behaviour, to give you fresh offence. Give me but hope of this--not
absolutely to reject me is all the hope I ask for; and I will love you,
if possible, still more than I ever loved you--and that for your
sufferings; for well you deserve to be loved, even to adoration, who can,
for honour's and for virtue's sake, subdue a passion which common spirits
[I speak by cruel experience] find invincible; and this at a time when
the black offender kneels and supplicates, as I am well assured he does,
(all his friends likewise supplicating for him,) to be forgiven.
That you cannot forgive him, not forgive him so as to receive him again
to favour, is no wonder. His offence is against virtue: this is a part
of your essence. What magnanimity is this! How just to yourself, and to
your spotless character! Is it any merit to admire more than ever a lady
who can so exaltedly distinguish? It is not. I cannot plead it.
What hope have I left, may it be said, when my address was before
rejected, now, that your sufferings, so nobly borne, have, with all the
good judges, exalted your character? Yet, Madam, I have to pride myself
in this, that while your friends (not looking upon you in the just light
I do) persecute and banish you; while your estate is withheld from you,
and threatened (as I know,) to be withheld, as long as the chicaning law,
or rather the chicaneries of its practisers, can keep it from you: while
you are destitute of protection; every body standing aloof, either
through fear of the injurer of one family, or of the hard-hearted of the
other; I pride myself, I say, to stand forth, and offer my fortune, and
my life, at your devotion. With a selfish hope indeed: I should be too
great an hypocrite not to own this! and I know how much you abhor
insincerity.
But, whether you encourage that hope or not, accept my best services, I
beseech you, Madam: and be pleased to excuse me for a piece of honest
art, which the nature of the case (doubting the honour of your notice
otherwise) makes me choose to conclude with--it is this:
If I am to be still the most unhappy of men, let your pen by one line
tell me so. If I am permitted to indulge a hope, however distant, your
silence shall be deemed, by me, the happiest indication of it that you
can give--except that still happier--(the happiest than can befall me,)
a signification that you will accept the tender of that life and fortune,
which it would be my pride and my glory to sacrifice in your service,
leaving the reward to yourself.
Be your determination as it may, I must for ever admire and love you.
Nor will I ever change my condition, while you live, whether you change
your's or not: for, having once had the presumption to address you, I
cannot stoop to think of any other woman: and this I solemnly declare in
the presence of that God, whom I daily pray to bless and protect you, be
your determination what it will with regard to, dearest Madam,
Your most devoted and ever affectionate
and faithful servant,
ALEXANDER WYERLEY.