To John Temple, Esq; Pall Mall.
Jan. 25.
So you intend, my dear Jack, to marry when you are quite tired of a
life of gallantry: the lady will be much obliged to you for a heart,
the refuse of half the prostitutes in town; a heart, the best feelings
of which will be entirely obliterated; a heart hardened by a long
commerce with the most unworthy of the sex; and which will bring
disgust, suspicion, coldness, and depravity of taste, to the bosom of
sensibility and innocence.
For my own part, though fond of women to the greatest degree, I have
had, considering my profession and complexion, very few intrigues. I
have always had an idea I should some time or other marry, and have
been unwilling to bring to a state in which I hoped for happiness from
mutual affection, a heart worn out by a course of gallantries: to a
contrary conduct is owing most of our unhappy marriages; the woman
brings with her all her stock of tenderness, truth, and affection; the
man's is exhausted before they meet: she finds the generous delicate
tenderness of her soul, not only unreturned, but unobserved; she
fancies some other woman the object of his affection, she is unhappy,
she pines in secret; he observes her discontent, accuses her of
caprice; and her portion is wretchedness for life.
If I did not ardently wish your happiness, I should not thus
repeatedly combat a prejudice, which, as you have sensibility, will
infallibly make the greater part of your life a scene of insipidity
and regret.
You are right, Jack, as to the savages; the only way to civilize
them is to _feminize_ their women; but the task is rather
difficult: at present their manners differ in nothing from those of the
men; they even add to the ferocity of the latter.
You desire to know the state of my heart: excuse me, Jack; you know
nothing of love; and we who do, never disclose its mysteries to the
prophane: besides, I always chuse a female for the confidante of my
sentiments; I hate even to speak of love to one of my own sex.
Adieu! I am going a party with half a dozen ladies, and have not
another minute to spare.
Yours,
Ed. Rivers.