When I argued the matter over in my own mind, I knew not on what to determine. Reflection never agreed with me: I hate it confoundedly--It brings with it a consumed long string of past transactions, that bore me to death, and is worse than a fit of the hypo-chondriac. I endeavored to lose my disagreeable companion in the arms of sleep; but the devil a bit: the idea of the raptures I should taste in those of my lovely Julia's, drove the drowsy God from my eye-lids--yet my pleasurable sensations were damped by the enormous purchase I must in all probability pay for such a delightful privilege: after examining the business every way, I concluded it as I do most things which require mature deliberation, left it to work its way in the best manner it could, and making chance, the first link in the chain of causes, ruler of my fate.
I now saw my Julia daily, and the encrease of passion was the consequence of every interview. You have often told me I was a fel-low of no speculation or thought: I presume to say, that in the point in question, though you may conceive me running hand over head to destruction, I have shewn a great deal of fore-thought; and that the step I have taken is an infallible proof of it. Charming as both you and I think the lady Betty's and lady Bridget's, and faith have found them too, I believe neither you nor I ever intended to take any one of them for better, for worse; yet we have never made any resolution against entering into the pale of matrimony. Now though I like a little badinage, and sometimes something more, with a married woman--I would much rather that my wife, like Caesar's, should not be suspected: where then is it so likely to meet with a woman of real virtue as in the lap of innocence? The women of our world marry, that they may have the greater privilege for leading dissipated lives. Knowing them so well as I do, I
could have no chance of happiness with one of their class--and yet one must one time or other "settle soberly and raise a brood."-- And why not now, while every artery beats rapidly, and nature is alive?
However, it does not signify bringing this argument, or that, to justify my procedure; I could not act otherwise than I have done. I was mad, absolutely dying for her. By heaven! I never saw so many beauties under one form. There is not a limb or feature which I have not adored in as many different women; here, they are all assembled with the greatest harmony: and yet she wants the polish of the world: a je ne scai quoi, a tout ensemble, which nothing but mixing with people of fashion can give: but, as she is extremely docile, I have hopes that she will not disgrace the name of Stanley.
Shall I whisper you a secret--but publish it not in the streets of Askalon--I could almost wish my whole life had passed in the same innocent tranquil manner it has now for several weeks. No tumultuous thoughts, which, as they are too often excited by licentious excess, must be lost and drowned in wine. No cursed qualms of conscience, which will appall the most hardy of us, when nature sickens after the fatigue of a debauch. Here all is peaceful, because all is innocent: and yet what voluptuary can figure a higher joy than I at present experience in the possession of the most lovely of her sex, who thinks it her duty to contribute to my pleasure, and whose every thought I can read in her expressive countenance? Oh! that I may ever see her with the same eyes I do at this moment! Why cannot I renounce a world, the ways of which I have seen and despise from my soul? What attachments have I to it, guilty ones
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excepted? Ought I to continue them, when I have sworn--Oh! Christ! what is come to me now? can a virtuous connexion with the sex work miracles? but you cannot inform me--having never made such: and who the devil can, till they marry--and then it is too late: the die is cast.
I hope you will thank me for making you my confidant--and, what is more, writing you so enormous a long letter. Most likely I
shall enhance your obligation by continuing my correspondence, as I do not know when I shall quit, what appears to me, my earthly paradise. Whether you will congratulate me from your heart I know not, because you may possibly imagine, from some virtuous emanations which have burst forth in the course of this epistle, that you shall lose your old companion. No, no, not quite so bad neither--though I am plaguy squeamish at present, a little town air will set all to rights again, and I shall no doubt fall into my old track with redoubled alacrity from this recess. So don't despair, my old friend: you will always find me,
Your lordship's devoted, W. STANLEY.
LETTER II.
TO THE SAME.
What a restless discontented animal is man! Even in Paradise unblest. Do you know I am, though surrounded with felicity, languish-ing for sin and sea-coal in your regions. I shall be vapoured to death if I stay here much longer. Here is nothing to exercise the bright genius with which I am endued: all one calm sunshine;
"And days of peace do still succeed
To nights of calm repose."
How unfit to charm a soul like mine! I, who love every thing that the moderns call pleasure. I must be amongst you, and that presently. My Julia, I am certain, will make no resistance to my will. Faith! she is the wife for me. Mild, passive, duteous, and innocent: I may lead my life just as I please; and she, dear creature! will have no idea but that I am a very good husband!
"And when I am weary of wandering all day, To thee, my delight, in the evening I, come."
I did intend, when first I began my correspondence with your lordship, to have informed you of the whole process of this affair; but, upon my soul, you must excuse me. From being idle, I am become perfectly indolent;--besides, it is unfashionable to talk so much of one's wife. I shall only say, I endeavoured, by all those little attentions which are so easily assumed by us, to gain her affections,--and at the same time, to make sure work, declared myself in form to her father.
One day, when I could hobble about, I took occasion to say to Mr. Grenville, that I was meditating a return for his civilities, which was no other than running away with his daughter Julia: that, in the whole course of my life, I had never seen a woman whom I thought so capable of making me happy; and that, were my proposals acceptable to him and her, it would be my highest felicity to render her situation such. I saw the old man was inwardly pleased.--In very polite terms he assured me, he should have no objection to such an alliance, if Julia's heart made none; that although, for very particular reasons, he had quarreled with the world, he did not wish to seclude his children from partaking of its pleasures. He owned, he thought Julia seemed to have an inclination to see more
of it than he had had an opportunity of shewing her; and that, as he had for ever renounced it, there was no protector, after a father, so proper as a husband. He then paid me some compliments, which perhaps, had his acquaintance been of as long standing as yours and mine, he might have thought rather above my desert: but he knows no more of me than he has heard from me,--and the devil is in it, if a man won't speak well of himself when he has an opportunity.
It was some time before I could bring myself to the pious resolution of marrying.--I was extremely desirous of practising a few manoeuvres first, just to try the strength of the citadel;--but madam housekeeper would have blown me up. "You are in love with my master's daughter," said she, one day, to me; "if you make honourable proposals, I have not a doubt but they will be accepted;-- if I find you endeavouring to gain her heart in a clandestine manner,--remember