There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love.
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love.
Robert Burns
happy state when souls each other draw,
When love is liberty and nature law. "[144]
I know were I to speak in such a style to many a girl, who thinks
herself possessed of no small share of sense, she would think it
ridiculous; but the language of the heart is, my dear E. , the only
courtship I shall ever use to you.
When I look over what I have written, I am sensible it is vastly
different from the ordinary style of courtship, but I shall make no
apology--I know your good nature will excuse what your goody sense may
see amiss.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 144: Pope. _Eloisa to Abelard. _]
* * * * *
VI.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I have often thought it a peculiarly unlucky circumstance in love,
that though in every other situation in life, telling the truth is not
only the safest, but actually by far the easiest way of proceeding, a
lover is never under greater difficulty in acting, or more puzzled for
expression, than when his passion is sincere, and his intentions are
honourable. I do not think that it is very difficult for a person of
ordinary capacity to talk of love and fondness, which are not felt,
and to make vows of constancy and fidelity, which are never intended
to be performed, if he be villain enough to practise such detestable
conduct: but to a man whose heart glows with the principles of
integrity and truth, and who sincerely loves a woman of amiable
person, uncommon refinement of sentiment and purity of manners--to
such an one, in such circumstances, I can assure you, my dear, from my
own feelings at this present moment, courtship is a task indeed. There
is such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd
into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to
you, that what to speak, or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.
There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is honestly to tell you the plain
truth.
There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love. No, my
dear E. , I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts
unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing,
my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you
would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or
cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
convenient. I shall only add further that, if a behaviour regulated
(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and
virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
your real friend, and sincere lover.
R. B.
* * * * *
VII.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I ought, in good manners, to have acknowledged the receipt of your
letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked, with the
contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
write you on the subject. I will not attempt to describe what I felt
on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and again,
and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still it was
peremptory; "you were sorry you could not make me a return, but you
wish me," what without you I never can obtain, "you wish me all kind
of happiness. " It would be weak and unmanly to say that, without you I
never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing life with you would
have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I can never taste.
When love is liberty and nature law. "[144]
I know were I to speak in such a style to many a girl, who thinks
herself possessed of no small share of sense, she would think it
ridiculous; but the language of the heart is, my dear E. , the only
courtship I shall ever use to you.
When I look over what I have written, I am sensible it is vastly
different from the ordinary style of courtship, but I shall make no
apology--I know your good nature will excuse what your goody sense may
see amiss.
R. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 144: Pope. _Eloisa to Abelard. _]
* * * * *
VI.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I have often thought it a peculiarly unlucky circumstance in love,
that though in every other situation in life, telling the truth is not
only the safest, but actually by far the easiest way of proceeding, a
lover is never under greater difficulty in acting, or more puzzled for
expression, than when his passion is sincere, and his intentions are
honourable. I do not think that it is very difficult for a person of
ordinary capacity to talk of love and fondness, which are not felt,
and to make vows of constancy and fidelity, which are never intended
to be performed, if he be villain enough to practise such detestable
conduct: but to a man whose heart glows with the principles of
integrity and truth, and who sincerely loves a woman of amiable
person, uncommon refinement of sentiment and purity of manners--to
such an one, in such circumstances, I can assure you, my dear, from my
own feelings at this present moment, courtship is a task indeed. There
is such a number of foreboding fears and distrustful anxieties crowd
into my mind when I am in your company, or when I sit down to write to
you, that what to speak, or what to write, I am altogether at a loss.
There is one rule which I have hitherto practised, and which I shall
invariably keep with you, and that is honestly to tell you the plain
truth.
There is something so mean and unmanly in the arts of
dissimulation and falsehood, that I am surprised they can be acted by
any one in so noble, so generous a passion, as virtuous love. No, my
dear E. , I shall never endeavour to gain your favour by such
detestable practices. If you will be so good and so generous as to
admit me for your partner, your companion, your bosom friend through
life, there is nothing on this side of eternity shall give me greater
transport; but I shall never think of purchasing your hand by any arts
unworthy of a man, and I will add of a Christian. There is one thing,
my dear, which I earnestly request of you, and it is this; that you
would soon either put an end to my hopes by a peremptory refusal, or
cure me of my fears by a generous consent.
It would oblige me much if you would send me a line or two when
convenient. I shall only add further that, if a behaviour regulated
(though perhaps but very imperfectly) by the rules of honour and
virtue, if a heart devoted to love and esteem you, and an earnest
endeavour to promote your happiness; if these are qualities you would
wish in a friend, in a husband, I hope you shall ever find them in
your real friend, and sincere lover.
R. B.
* * * * *
VII.
TO MISS E.
_Lochlea_, 1783.
I ought, in good manners, to have acknowledged the receipt of your
letter before this time, but my heart was so shocked, with the
contents of it, that I can scarcely yet collect my thoughts so as to
write you on the subject. I will not attempt to describe what I felt
on receiving your letter. I read it over and over, again and again,
and though it was in the politest language of refusal, still it was
peremptory; "you were sorry you could not make me a return, but you
wish me," what without you I never can obtain, "you wish me all kind
of happiness. " It would be weak and unmanly to say that, without you I
never can be happy; but sure I am, that sharing life with you would
have given it a relish, that, wanting you, I can never taste.
