To George Mordaunt, Esq;
I AM still with Mr. Herbert, whose genius,
learning, and goodness of heart,
make him an honor to human nature itself:
I shall never know peace till I find a
way to render his situation more worthy of
his character.
It was with great difficulty I drew from
him the following short account of himself.
"There is nothing in my past life but
what is, I fear, too usual to be worth relating.
Warmth of temper, and the vanity
of youth, seduced me into a circle of
company not to be kept up, by one of my
fortune, at a less price than ruin; and the
same vanity, with inexperience and a false
opinion of mankind, betrayed me into views
not less destructive.
My father unhappily died when I was
about nineteen, leaving me at college, master
of my own actions, of the little estate you
see, and of four thousand pounds; a sum I
then thought inexhaustible. The reputation
of such a sum in my own power drew
about me all the worthless young men of
fashion in the university, whose persuasions
and examples led me into a train of expence
to which my fortune was far from being
equal; they flattered those talents of which
I thought but too well myself, and easily
persuaded me I only wanted to be known
in the great world to rise to what height I
pleased. I accompanied them to town, full
of the idea of raising my fortune, to which
they assured me nothing so much contributed
as the appearance of being perfectly
at ease. To this end I launched into every
expence they proposed; dress, equipage,
play, and every fashionable extravagance.
I was well received every where, and
thought my designs in a prosperous way. I
found my fortune however decaying at the
end of two years, but had not courage to
enquire into particulars; till, drawing upon
my banker for money to pay some debts I
had unwarily contracted, he told me he had
already paid the whole.
It was some time before he could convince
me of this; but, finding his accounts
had all the appearance of exactness, I was
obliged to acquiesce, and went home in an
agony of despair. Unable to quit a way of
life which was become habitual, and which
it was now impossible to support without
dishonesty, there is no describing my feelings.
After revolving a thousand different
schemes in my imagination, I determined
to conceal the situation of my affairs, to sell
my estate, and, before that money was gone,
press my great friends to serve me.
I applied to my banker, who undertook
to send me a purchaser; but, before I had
compleated my design, I received by the post
a bank note of five hundred pounds, the
sum I was indebted in town; with a letter,
in a hand unknown to me, representing, in
the most delicate manner, the imprudence
of my past conduct, the madness of my
views, and the certain consequences of my
parting wish this my last stake: intreating
me, by the memory of my parents, to preserve
this sacred deposit, this little remain of
what their tender care had left me.
Melted with this generosity, struck with
the just reproof, yet chained down to that
world which had undone me; convinced,
yet irresolute; I struggled with my own
heart to determine on retiring into the
country; but, to postpone as long as possible
a retreat, which I could not bear to think
of, resolved first to try my great friends, and
be certain of what I had to hope for. I represented
to them the necessity of immediately
attempting in earnest to push my fortune;
and, pressing them closely, found their
promises were air. They talked in general
terms of their esteem for me, of my merit;
and each of them expressed the warmest desire
of seeing me served by any means but
his own. In order to animate their languid
friendship, I discovered to them the
real state of my affairs; and from that moment
found myself avoided by them all;
they dropped me by degrees: were never
at home when I called; and at length
ceased even to bow to me in public.
Ashamed of their own baseness in thus cruelly
deserting me, after leading me into
ruin, most of them fought to excuse it by
blackening my character; whilst the best of
them affected coldly to pity me, as a vain
foolish fellow, who had undone himself
by forgetting his own primeval situation,
and arrogantly presuming to live
with them.
Burning with indignation, I determined at
once to break the bands which held me captive.
I sold my equipage, discharged my
debts, and came down to this place, resolved
to find out to whom I had been so obliged;
and, by living on half my income, to repay
this generous benefactor.
I took lodgings in a farm-house, and
soon found that peace of mind to which I
had long been a stranger. I tried every
method to find out to whom I was indebted
for an act of such exalted friendship, but
in vain; till one day, a relation being present,
of whom I had some suspicion, I related
the story, as of another, keeping my
eyes fixed upon him; he remained perfectly
unmoved; but, happening to turn my
head, I saw a confusion in the air of a
young lady in the room, with whom I had
been bred in the greatest intimacy, which
excited all my attention. She saw me observe
her, and a blush overspread her
cheek, which convinced me I had found
the object of my search. I changed the
subject; and the next morning made her a
visit, when I with great difficulty drew
from her a confession, that, ;having long
had a tender esteem for me, she had, by a
friend in town, watched all my actions:
that my banker had applied to that very
friend to purchase my estate; on which,
seeing me on the brink of absolute ruin, she
had taken what appeared to her the most
probably means to prevent it; and was so
happy as to see she had succeeded.
I dare say, I need not tell you this noble
creature was my dear Mrs. Herbert; the
smallness of whose fortune added infinitely
to the generosity of the action, what she
had sent me being within a trifle her all.
I loved, I addressed her, and, at length,
was so happy as to call her mine. Blest in
the most exalted passion for each other, a
passion which time has rather encreased
than abated, the narrowness of our circumstances
is the only ill we have to complain
of; even this we have borne with chearfulness,
in the hope of happier days. A late
accident has, however, broke in upon that
tranquillity with which Heaven has hitherto
blest us. It is now about six months since
a Lady, who tenderly esteemed us both,
sent for me, and acquainted me she had
procured for me of a gentleman, whose family
had been obliged to her, a living of
above three hundred pounds a year, in a
beautiful situation; and desired I would immediately
take orders. As I was originally
educated with a view to the church, I consented
with inexpressible joy, blessing that
Heaven, which had thus rewarded my
Sophia's generous affection, and given us
all that was wanting to compleat our happiness.
I set out for London with an exulting
heart; where, after being ordained, I
received the presentation, and went down
to take possession. The house was large and
elegant, and betrayed me into furnishing
it rather better than suited my present circumstances;
but, as I determined on the
utmost frugality for some years, I thought
this of little consequence. I set men to
work in the garden; and wrote my wife an
account of our new residence, which made
her eager to hasten her removal. The day
of my coming for my family was fixed,
when my patron came down to this seat,
which was within sight of the rectory; I
waited on him, and found him surrounded
by wretches to whom it was scarce possible
to give the name of human; profligate,
abandoned, lost even to the sense of shame;
their conversation wounded reason, virtue,
politeness, and all that mankind agreed to
hold sacred. My patron, the wealthy heir
of a West Indian, was raised above them,
only by fortune and a superior degree of
ignorance and savage insensibility. He received
me with an insolence, which I found
great difficulty in submitting to: and, after
some brutal general reflexions on the clergy,
dared to utter expressions relating to
the beauty of my wife, which fired my soul
with indignation: breathless with rage, I
had not power to reply: when, one of the
company speaking low to him, he answered
aloud, Hark you, Herbert, this blockhead
thinks a parson a gentleman; and wonders
at my treating, as I please, a fellow who
eats my bread.
I will sooner want bread, Sir, said I,
rising, than owe it to the most contemptible
of mankind. Your living is once more
at your disposal; I resign all right to it before
this company.
The pleasure of having acted as I ought
swelled my bosom with a conscious delight,
and supported me till I reached home; when
my heart sunk at the thought of what
my Sophia might feel from the disappointment.
Our affairs too were a little embarrassed,
from which misery I had hoped
to be set free, instead of which my debts
were increased. Mr. Mandeville, if you
never knew the horrors of being in debt,
you can form no idea of what it is to breathe
the air at the mercy of another; to labor,
to struggle to be just, whilst the cruel world
are loading you with the guilt of injustice.
I entered the house, filled with horrors
not to be conceived. My wife met me with
eager enquiries about our future residence;
and with repeated thanks to that God who
had thus graciously bestowed on us the
means of doing justice to all the world. You
will imagine what I felt at that moment:
instead of replying, I related to her the
treatment I had met with, and the character
of him to whom we were to be obliged;
and asked her, what she would wish me to
do? Resign the living, said she, and trust to
that Heaven whose goodness is over all his
creatures. I embraced her with tears of
tender transport, and told her I had already
done it. We wrote to the Lady to whose
friendship we had been obliged for the presentation;
and she had the greatness of
mind not to disapprove my conduct. We
have since practised a more severe frugality,
which we are determined not to relax till
what we owe is fully discharged: time will,
we hope, bring about this end, and remove
the load which now oppresses my heart.
Determined to trust to Heaven and our
own industry, and to aim at independence
alone, I have avoided all acquaintance which
could interfere with this only rational plan:
but Lord T — , seeing me at the house of
a nobleman whose virtues do honour to his
rank, and imagining my fortune easy from
my cordial reception there, invited me
earnestly to his seat; where, having, as I
suppose, been since undeceived as to my
situation, you were a witness of his unworthy
treatment of me; of one descended
from a family noble as his own, liberally
educated, with a spirit equally above meanness
and pride, and a heart which feels too
sensibly to be happy in a world like this.
Oh! Mr. Mandeville! What can you think
of him, who, instead of pouring out his
soul in thankfulness to Heaven for those
advantages he enjoys by his goodness above
his fellow-creatures, makes use of them to
would the bosom of the wretched, and add
double bitterness to the cup of adversity?
The real evils of a narrow fortune are
trifling; its worst pangs spring from the
unfeeling cruelty of others; it is not always
that philosophy can raise us above the
proud man's contumely, or those thousand
insults
"Which patient merit of th' unworthy takes."
You, Mr. Mandeville, are young, and
full of probity; your own heart will mislead
you, by drawing too flattering a picture
of others; the world is gay before
you; and, blinded by prosperity, you have
never yet seen it as it is. I have heard
you with infinite concern hint designs too
like my own; let me intreat, let me conjure
you, to profit by my example; if peace
is worth your care, be content with your
paternal fortune, however small; nor, by
rashly launching on the flattering sea of
hope, hazard that shipwreck which I have
suffered."
Mordaunt! Is not this the voice of
Heaven? I will return to the bosom of
independence, and give up designs in
which it is almost impossible for modest
worth to succeed.
My father is in town; I will go to him
when he returns; his advice shall determine
my future conduct.
A letter from Lady Julia: my servant
has this moment brought it from Lord
T — 's, whither I desired it to be directed/;
not chusing to let them know I have put an
end to my visit, lest Lord Belmont should
insist on my return.
