University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
  
  

 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
LETTER XII.
 13. 
 14. 
 15. 
 16. 
 17. 
 18. 
 19. 
 20. 
 21. 
 22. 
 23. 
 24. 
 25. 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 30. 
 31. 
 32. 
 33. 
 34. 
 35. 
 36. 
 37. 
 38. 
 39. 
 40. 
 41. 
 42. 
 43. 
 44. 
 45. 
 46. 
 47. 
 48. 
 49. 
 50. 
 51. 
 52. 
 53. 
 54. 
 55. 
 56. 
 57. 
 58. 
 59. 
 60. 
 61. 
 62. 
 63. 
 64. 
 65. 
 66. 
 67. 
 68. 
 69. 
 70. 
 71. 
 72. 
 73. 
 74. 

  

34

Page 34

LETTER XII.

The heart of your friend is again
besieged. Whether it will surrender to the assailants
or not, I am unable at present to determine.
Sometimes I think of becoming a
predestinarian, and submitting implicitly to fate,
without any exercise of free will; but, as mine
seems to be a wayward one, I would counteract
the operations of it, if possible.

Mrs. Richman told me this morning, that
she hoped I should be as agreeably entertained
this afternoon, as I had been the preceding;
that she expected Mr. Boyer to dine, and take
tea; and doubted not but he would be as attentive
and sincere to me, if not as gay and polite
as the gentleman who obtruded his civilities
yesterday. I replied that I had no reason to
doubt the sincerity of the one, or the other,
having never put them to the test, nor did I imagine
I ever should. Your friends, Eliza, said
she, would be very happy to see you united to a
man of Mr. Boyer's worth; and so agreeably
settled, as he has a prospect of being. I hope,


35

Page 35
said I, that my friends are not so weary of my
company, as to wish to dispose of me. I am too
happy in my present connections to quit them
for new ones. Marriage is the tomb of friendship.
It appears to me a very selfish state. Why
do people, in general, as soon as they are married,
centre all their cares, their concerns, and
pleasures in their own families? former acquaintances
are neglected or forgotten. The tenderest
ties between friends are weakened, or dissolved;
and benevolence itself moves in a very limited
sphere. It is the glory of the marriage
state, she rejoined, to refine, by circumscribing
our enjoyments. Here we can repose in safety.

“The friendships of the world are oft
Confed'racies in vice, or leagues in pleasure:
Our's has the purest virtue for its basis;
And such a friendship ends not but with life.”

True, we cannot always pay that attention to
former associates, which we may wish; but the
little community which we superintend is quite
as important an object; and certainly renders
us more beneficial to the public. True benevolence,
though it may change its objects, is not
limited by time or place. Its effects are the
same, and aided by a second self, are rendered
more diffusive and salutary.

Some pleasantry passed, and we retired to
dress. When summoned to dinner, I found
Mr. Boyer below. If what is sometimes said be
true, that love is diffident, reserved, and unassuming,


36

Page 36
this man must be tinctured with it.
These symptoms were visible in his deportment
when I entered the room. However, he soon
recovered himself, and the conversation took a
general turn. The sestive board was crowned
with sociability, and we found in reality, “The
feast of reason, and the flow of soul.” After
we rose from table, a walk in the garden was
proposed, an amusement we are all peculiarly
fond of. Mr. Boyer offered me his arm. When
at a sufficient distance from our company, he
begged leave to congratulate himself on having
an opportunity which he had ardently desired
for some time, of declaring to me his attachment;
and of soliciting an interest in my favor;
or, if he might be allowed the term, affection.
I replied, that, Sir, is indeed laying
claim to an important interest. I believe you
must substitute some more indifferent epithet
for the present. Well then, said he, if it must
be so, let it be esteem, or friendship. Indeed,
Sir, said I, you are intitled to them both. Merit
has always a share in that bank; and I know
of none, who has a larger claim on that score,
than Mr. Boyer. I suppose my manner was
hardly serious enough for what he considered a
weighty cause. He was a little disconcerted;
but soon regaining his presence of mind, entreated
me, with an air of earnestness, to encourage
his suit, to admit his addresses, and, if
possible, to reward his love. I told him, that
this was rather a sudden affair to me; and that

37

Page 37
I could not answer him without consideration.
Well then, said he, take what time you think
proper, only relieve my suspense, as soon as may
be. Shall I visit you again to morrow? O, not
so soon, said I. Next Monday, I believe will
be early enough. I will endeavor to be at
home. He thanked me even for that favor,
recommended himself once more to my kindness;
and we walked towards the company, returned
with them to the house, and he soon took
leave. I immediately retired to write this letter,
which I shall close, without a single observation
on the subject, until I know your opinion.

Eliza Wharton.