Sat. Night, Sept. 2

Dear Mr. Walton,

I am obliged to you for the very handsomely penned, (and elegantly written) letter which you have sent me on purpose to do justice to the character of the younger Miss Harlowe; and yet I must tell you that I had reason, before that came, to think, (and to know indeed), that we were all wrong. And so I had employed the greatest part of this week, in drawing up an apologetical letter to my worthy patron, Mr. John Harlowe, in order to set all matters right between me and them, and, (as far as I could), between them and Miss. So it required little more than connection and transcribing, when I received yours; and it will be with Mr. Harlowe aforesaid, tomorrow morning; and this, and the copy of that, will be with you on Monday morning.

You cannot imagine how sorry I am that you and Mrs. Walton, and Mrs. Barker, and I myself, should have taken matters up so lightly, (judging, alas-a-day! by appearance and conjecture), where character and reputation are concerned. Horace says truly,

Et semel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.

That is, Words one spoken cannot be recalled. But, Mr. Walton, they may be contradicted by other words; and we may confess ourselves guilty of a mistake, and express our concern for being mistaken; and resolve to make our mistake a warning to us for the future: and this is all that can be done, and what every worthy mind will do; and what nobody can be readier to do than we four undesigning offenders, (as I see by your letter, on your part, and as you will see by the enclosed copy, on mine); which, if it be received as I think it ought, (and as I believe it will), must give me a speedy opportunity to see you when I visit the lady; to whom, (as you will see in it), I expect to be sent up with the olive-branch.

The matter in which we all erred, must be owned to be very nice; and (Mr. Belford’s character considered) appearances ran very strong against the lady. But all that this serveth to show is, that in doubtful matters, the wisest people may be mistaken; for so saith the Poet,

Fallitur in dubiis hominum solertia rebus.

If you have an opportunity, you may (as if from yourself, and unknown to me) show the enclosed to Mr. Belford, who (you tell me) resenteth the matter very heinously; but not to let him see or hear read, those words that relate to him, in the paragraph at the bottom of the second page, beginning, (But yet I do insist upon it,) to the end of that paragraph; for one would not make one’s self enemies, you know; and I have reason to think, that this Mr. Belford is as passionate and fierce a man as Mr. Lovelace. What pity it is the lady could find no worthier a protector! You may paste those lines over with blue or black paper, before he seeth it: and if he insisteth upon taking a copy of my letter, (for he, or anybody that seeth it, or heareth it read, will, no doubt, be glad to have by them the copy of a letter so full of the sentiments of the noblest writers of antiquity, and so well adapted, as I will be bold to say they are, to the point in hand; I say, if he insisteth upon taking a copy), let him give you the strongest assurances not to suffer it to be printed on any account; and I make the same request to you, that you will not; for if anything be to be made of a mans works,” who, but the author, should have the advantage? And if the Spectators, the Tatlers, the Examiners, the Guardians, and other of our polite papers, make such a strutting with a single verse, or so by way of motto, in the front of each day’s paper; and if other authors pride themselves in finding out and embellishing the title-pages of their books with a verse or adage from the classical writers; what a figure would such a letter as the enclosed make, so full fraught with admirable precepts, and apropos quotations, from the best authority?

I have been told that a certain noble Lord, who once sat himself down to write a pamphlet in behalf of a great minister, after taking infinite pains to no purpose to find a Latin motto, gave commission to a friend of his to offer to anyone, who could help him to a suitable one, but of one or two lines, a hamper of claret. Accordingly, his lordship had a motto found him from Juvenal, which he unhappily mistaking, (not knowing Juvenal was a poet), printed as a prose sentence in his title-page.

If, then, one or two lines were of so much worth, (A hamper of claret! No less!) of what inestimable value would such a letter as mine be deemed?⁠—And who knoweth but that this noble P⁠⸺⁠r, (who is now379 living), if he should happen to see this letter shining with such a glorious string of jewels, might give the writer a scarf, in order to have him always at hand, or be a mean (some way or other) to bring him into notice? And I would be bold to say (bad as the world is) a man of sound learning wanteth nothing but an initiation to make his fortune.

I hope, my good friend, that the lady will not die: I shall be much grieved, if she doth; and the more because of mine unhappy misrepresentation: so will you for the same cause; so will her parents and friends. They are very rich and very worthy gentlefolks.

But let me tell you, by the by, that they had carried the matter against her so far, that I believe in my heart they were glad to justify themselves by my report; and would have been less pleased, had I made a more favourable one. And yet in their hearts they dote upon her. But now they are all (as I hear) inclined to be friends with her, and forgive her; her brother, as well as the rest.

But their cousin, Col. Morden, a very fine gentleman, had had such high words with them, and they with him, that they know not how to stoop, lest it should look like being frighted into an accommodation. Hence it is, that I have taken the greater liberty to press the reconciliation; and I hope in such good season, that they will all be pleased with it: for can they have a better handle to save their pride all round, than by my mediation? And let me tell you, (inter nos, betwixt ourselves), very proud they all are.

By this honest means, (for by dishonest ones I would not be Archbishop of Canterbury), I hope to please everybody; to be forgiven, in the first place, by the lady, (whom, being a lover of learning and learned men, I shall have great opportunities of obliging; for, when she departed from her father’s house, I had but just the honour of her notice, and she seemed highly pleased with my conversation); and, next to be thanked and respected by her parents, and all her family; as I am (I bless God for it) by my dear friend Mr. John Harlowe: who indeed is a man that professeth a great esteem for men of erudition; and who (with singular delight, I know) will run over with me the authorities I have quoted, and wonder at my memory, and the happy knack I have of recommending mine own sense of things in the words of the greatest sages of antiquity.

Excuse me, my good friend, for this seeming vanity. The great Cicero (you must have heard, I suppose) had a much greater spice of it, and wrote a long letter begging and praying to be flattered. But if I say less of myself than other people (who know me) say of me, I think I keep a medium between vanity and false modesty; the latter of which oftentimes gives itself the lie, when it is declaring of the compliments, that everybody gives it as its due: an hypocrisy, as well as folly, that, (I hope), I shall forever scorn to be guilty of.

I have another reason (as I may tell to you, my old schoolfellow) to make me wish for this fine lady’s recovery and health; and that is, (by some distant intimations), I have heard from Mr. John Harlowe, that it is very likely (because of the slur she hath received) that she will choose to live privately and penitently⁠—and will probably (when she cometh into her estate) keep a chaplain to direct her in her devotions and penitence⁠—If she doth, who can stand a better chance than myself?⁠—And as I find (by your account, as well as by everybody’s) that she is innocent as to intention, and is resolved never to think of Mr. Lovelace more, who knoweth what (in time) may happen?⁠—And yet it must be after Mr. Lovelace’s death, (which may possibly sooner happen than he thinketh of, by means of his detestable courses): for, after all, a man who is of public utility, ought not (for the finest woman in the world) to lay his throat at the mercy of a man who boggleth at nothing.

I beseech you, let not this hint go farther than to yourself, your spouse, and Mrs. Barker. I know I may trust my life in your hands and theirs. There have been (let me tell ye) unlikelier things come to pass, and that with rich widows, (some of quality truly!) whose choice, in their first marriages hath (perhaps) been guided by motives of convenience, or mere corporalities, as I may say; but who by their second have had for their view the corporal and spiritual mingled; which is the most eligible (no doubt) to substance composed of both, as men and women are.

Nor think (Sir) that, should such a thing come to pass, either would be disgraced, since the lady in me would marry a gentleman and a scholar: and as to mine own honour, as the slur would bring her high fortunes down to an equivalence with my mean ones, (if fortune only, and not merit, be considered), so hath not the life of this lady been so tainted, (either by length of time, or naughtiness of practice), as to put her on a foot with the cast Abigails, that too, too often, (God knoweth), are thought good enough for a young clergyman, who, perhaps, is drawn in by a poor benefice; and (if the wicked one be not quite worn out) groweth poorer and poorer upon it, by an increase of family he knoweth not whether is most his, or his noble, (ignoble, I should say), patrons.

But, all this apart, and in confidence.

I know you made at school but a small progress in languages. So I have restrained myself from many illustrations from the classics, that I could have filled this letter with, (as I have done the enclosed one): and, being at a distance, I cannot explain them to you, as I do to my friend, Mr. John Harlowe; and who, (after all), is obliged to me for pointing out to him many beauties of the authors I quote, which otherwise would lie concealed from him, as they must from every common observer.⁠—But this (too) inter nos⁠—for he would not take it well to have it known⁠—Jays (you know, old schoolfellow, jays, you know) will strut in peacock’s feathers.

But whither am I running? I never know where to end, when I get upon learned topics. And albeit I cannot compliment you with the name of a learned man, yet are you a sensible man; and (as such) must have pleasure in learned men, and in their writings.

In this confidence, (Mr. Walton), with my kind respects to the good ladies, (your spouse and sister), and in hopes, for the young lady’ss sake, soon to follow this long, long epistle, in person, I conclude myself,