To George Mordaunt, Esq;
I Have been riding alone with Lord Belmont
this morning, a pleasure I very
often enjoy, and on which I set infinite
value: in those hours of perfect confidence,
I am certain of being instructed and amused,
by a train of ideas uncommon, enlarged,
noble, benevolent; and adapted to inspire
me with a love of virtue, by shewing her
in her native charms: I shall be all my life
the wiser and worthier man, for the hours
I have passed at Belmont.
But, Oh! Mordaunt! shall I be the happiest?
That is in the bosom of futurity: a
thousand times have I been tempted, in
these hours of indulgent friendship, to open
all my heart to Lord Belmont.
I know his contempt of wealth, and how
little he thinks it conducive to happiness.
"Heaven," said he to me this very morning,
"has blest me with affluence: I am
thankful, and endeavor to deserve, by
applying an ample portion of it to the
purposes of beneficence. But for myself,
my pleasures are of so unexpensive and
simple a kind, that a diminution of fortune
would take very little from my private felicity:
Health, content, the sweets of social
and domestic life, the only enjoyments
suited to the nature of man, are and ought
to be within the reach of all the species:
yes, my dear Mr. Mandeville; it gives a
double relish to all my pleasures, to reflect
that they are such as every man may enjoy
if he will."
Can this man, my dear Mordaunt, sacrifice
the real happiness of his child, the
calm delight of domestic friendship on which
he sets such value himself, to the gaudy
trappings of tasteless grandeur? Did she
approve my passion, I should hope every
thing from the most indulgent of fathers.
He has refused Lord Fondville for Lady
Julia, whose fortune is as large as avarice
itself could desire: Good Heaven! that such
a man, without one other recommendation,
without a soul to taste even the charms of
her person, can aspire to all that can be
imagined of perfection! Adieu!
H. Mandeville.
