To Henry Mandeville, Esq;
June 22d.
THE present member of parliament
for being in a state of health
which renders his life extremely uncertain,
it would be very agreeable to me if my dear
Mr. Mandeville would think of offering
himself a candidate to succeed him. I will
however be so plain as to tell him, he will
have no assistance from me except my
wishes, and has nothing to trust to but
his merits and the name of Mandeville;
it being a point both of conscience and
honor with me, never to intermeddle in
elections. The preservation of our happy
constitution depends on the perfect independence
of each part, of which it is composed,
on the other two: and the moment,
Heaven grant that moment to be far distant!
when the House of Lords can make a House
of Commons, liberty and prerogative will
cease to be more than names, and both
prince and people become slaves.
I therefore always, though the whole
town is mine, leave the people to their free
and uninfluenced choice: never interfering
farther than to insist on their keeping themselves
as unbiassed as I leave them. I would
not only withdraw my favor from, but
prosecute, the man who was base enough
to take a bribe, tho' he who offered it was
my nearest friend.
By this means I have the pleasure also of
keeping myself free, and at liberty to confer
favours where I please; so that I secure
my own independence by not invading that
of others.
This conduct, I cannot help thinking, if
general, would preserve the balance of our
glorious constitution; a balance of much
greater consequence to Britons than the
balance of power in Europe, tho' so much
less the object of their attention. In this we
resemble those persons, who, whilst they are
busied in regulating the domestic concerns
of their neighbours, suffer their own to be
ruined.
But to return from this unintended digression:
You will perhaps object to what
I have proposed, that, during your father's
life, you are not qualified for a seat in Parliament.
I have obviated this objection.
Lady Mary, the only sister of my father,
has an ample fortune in her own power to
dispose of: some part of it was originally
her own; but much the larger part was
left her by her lover, Sir Charles Barton,
who was killed in Queen Anne's wars, the
very morning before he was to have set out
for England to complete his marriage. Being
the last of his family, he had made a
will, in which he left his estate to Lady
Mary, with a request, that, if she did not
marry, she would leave it to one of the
name of Mandeville. As she loves merit,
and has the happiness and honor of our
house warmly at heart, I have easily prevailed
on her to settle 500£. a year on you
at the present, and to leave you a good
part of the rest at her death. Her design
hitherto, I will not conceal from you, has
been to leave her fortune to my daughter,
of whom she is infinitely fond; but Julia
has enough, and by leaving it to you she
more exactly fulfils the will of Sir Charles,
who, tho' he has not expressly made the
distinction, certainly meant it to a male of
the Mandeville name. The estate is about
2000£. a year; her own fortune of 14000£.
I shall not oppose her leaving to my
daughter.
I know too well the generous sentiments
of your heart to doubt that, in procuring
this settlement, I give to my country a firm
and unshaken patriot, at once above dependance
on the most virtuous court, and
the mean vanity of opposing the just measures
of his Prince, from a too eager desire
of popularity: not that I would have you
insensible to praise, or the esteem of your
country; but seek it only by deserving it,
and tho' it be in part the reward, let it not
be the motive of your actions: let your own
approbation be your first view, and that of
others only your second.
You may observe, my dear Mr. Mandeville,
I only caution you against being led
away, by youthful vanity, to oppose the just
measures of your Prince: I should wrong
the integrity of your heart, if I supposed
you capable of distressing the hands of government
for mercenary or ambitious purposes:
a virtuous senator will regard, not
men, but measures, and will concur with
his bitterest enemies in every salutary and
honest purpose; or rather, in a public light,
he will have no enemies, but the enemies
of his country.
It is with caution I give even these general
hints; far be it form me to attempt to
influence your judgment: let your opinion
be ever free and your own; or, where your
inexperience may want information, seek it
from the best, and most enlightened of mankind,
your excellent father, who has long
sat with honor in the same house.
Let me now, my amiable friend, thank
you for your obliging attention, not only
to the ladies, of whom I could not doubt
your care, but of my tenants; one of whom
writes me word, that, coming to enquire
when I should return, with a look of anxiety
which shew'd my return was of consequence
to him, you took his aside, and,
enquiring his business, found he wanted,
from an accident which had involved him
in a temporary distress, to borrow 100£.
for which you gave him a draught on your
banker, with a goodness and sweetness of
manner, which doubled the obligation;
making only one condition, which the overflowing
of his gratitude has made him unable
to keep, that it should be a secret to
all the world.
Can Lady Mary do too much for a man
who thus shews himself worthy the name of
Mandeville, the characteristic of which has
ever been the warmest benevolence?
Another would, perhaps, insist on returning
the money to you, but I will not rob
you of the pleasure of making an honest
man happy: you will however observe, that
it is this once only I indulge you; and that
you are the only person from whom I have
ever suffered my family, for such I esteem
all placed by Providence under my protection,
to receive an obligation: 'tis a favour
I have refused even to your father.
Do not answer this: I shall possibly be
with you before a letter could reach me.
Adieu. Your affectionate Belmont.
Can I, after this letter, my dear Mordaunt,
entertain a wish for Lady Julia, without
the blackest ingratitude? no, tho' I
will not accept his generous offer, I can
never forget he has made it. I will leave
Belmont–I will forget her–What have I
said? forget her? I must first lose all sense
of my own being.
Am I born to know every species of misery?
I have this moment received a second
letter from the Lady I once mentioned to
you, filled with the softest and most affecting
expressions of disinterested tenderness:
indiscreet from excess of affection, she adjures
me to meet her one moment in the
rustic temple, where she is waiting for me;
her messenger is gone, and, as I will not
hazard exposing her by sending my servant,
I have no choice left but to go: Heaven
knows how unwillingly! Should we be seen,
what an appearance would such a meeting
have! I left Lady Julia to write letters, and
on that account excused myself from attending
her: yet can I leave her, whom love
alone has made imprudent, to the consequence
of her indiscretion, and the wild sallies
of a mind torn by disappointment and
despair! I will go: but how shall I behold her!
how tell her pity is all I can return to so generous
a passion? These trials are too great
for a heart like mine, tender, sympathetic,
compassionate; and softened by the sense of
it's own sufferings: I shall expire with regret
and confusion at her sight. Farewell.
H. Mandeville.
