To Agnes McLehose (Clarinda)
Mossgiel 7th March 1788
Clarinda, I have been so stung with your reproach for unkindness, a
sin so unlike me, a sin I detest more than a breach of the whole
Decalogue, fifth, sixth, seventh and ninth articles excepted; that I
believe I shall not rest in my grave about it, if I die before I see you.
—You have often allowed me the head to judge, and the heart to feel
the influence of female excellence: was it not blasphemy then,
against your own charms, and against my feelings to suppose that a
short fortnight could abate my Passion? You, my Love, may have
your cares and anxieties to disturb you, but they are the usual
recurrencies of life; your future views are fix’d, and your mind in a
settled routine.—Could not you, my ever dearest Madam, make a
little allowance for a man, after long absence, paying a short visit to
a Country full of friends, relations, and early intimates? Cannot you
guess, my Clarinda, what thoughts, what cares, what anxious
forebodings, hopes and fears, must crowd the breast of
the man of keen sensibility, when no less is on the tapis than his
aim, his employment, his very existence thro’ future life? To be overtopped
in anything else, I can bear; but in the lists of generous love, I defy
all mankind!—Not even to the tender, the fond, the loving Clarinda;
she whose strength of attachment, whose melting soul, may vie with
Eloisa and Sappho; not even She can overpay the Affection She
owes me!
Now that, not my apology, but my defence is made; I feel my soul
respire more easily.—l know you will go along with me in my justif-
ication—would to Heaven you could in my Adoption too! I mean an
Adoption beneath the stars: an Adoption where I might revel in the
immediate beams of
“She, the bright sun of all her Sex”—’
I would not have you, my dear Madam, so much hurt at Miss
Nimmo’s coldness.—’Tis placing yourself below her, an honor she by
no means deserves—We ought, when we wish to be economists in
happiness; we ought in the first place to fix the standard of our own
character; and when, on full examination, we know where we stand,
and how much ground we occupy, let us contend for it as property;
and those who seem to doubt, or deny us what is justly ours, let us
either pity their prejudices or despise their judgement.—I know, my
Dear, you will say this is self-conceit; but I call it self-knowledge: the
one is the overweening opinion of a fool, who fancies himself to be,
what we would wish himself to be thought; the other is the honest
justice that a man of sense, who has thoroughly examined the
subject, owes to himself—Without this standard, this column in our
own mind; we are perpetually at the mercy of the petulance, the
mistakes, the prejudices, nay, the very weakness and wickedness of
our fellow-creatures.—
I urge this, my Dear, both to confirm myself in the doctrine which I
assure you, I sometimes need; and because I know that this, causes
you often much disquiet—To return to Miss Nimmo: she is most
certainly a worthy soul; and equalled by very, very few in goodness
of the heart—But, can she boast more goodness of heart than
Clarinda? not even prejudice will dare to say so: for penetration and
discernment, Clarinda sees far beyond her: to wit, Miss Nimmo dare
make no pretence; to Clarinda’s wit, scarce any of her sex dare make
pretence. Personal charms, it would be ridiculous to run the parallel:
and for conduct in life, Miss Nimmo was never called out, either
much to do, or to suffer; Clarinda has been both; and has performed
her Part, where Miss Nimmo would have sunk at the bare idea.—
Away, then, with these disquietudes! Let us pray with the honest weaver of Kilbarchan, “Lord, send us a gude conceit o’ oursel’!” Or in the words of the auld sang,
“Who does me disdain, I can scorn them again,
“And I’ll never mind any such foes”
There is an error in the commerce of intimacy which has led me far
astray . . . –
[Several lines of MS erased]
• . . way of exchange, have not an equivalent to give; and what is still
worse, have no idea of the value of our goods—Happy is our lot,
indeed, when we meet with an honest Merchant, who is qualified to
deal with us on our own terms; but that is a rarity: with almost
every body we must pocket our pearls, less or more; and learn, in the
old Scots phrase—”To gie sic-like as we get.”—For this reason one
should try to erect a kind of bank or store-house in one’s own mind;
or as the Psalmist says, “We should commune with our own hearts
and be still.” This is exactly
[Several lines of MS. erased]
. . . friend be so peculiarly favored of heaven as to have a soul as
noble and exalted as yours, sooner or later your bosom will ach with
disappointment. I wrote you yesternight which will reach you long
before this can—I may write Mr Ainslie before I see him, but I am
not sure.—
Farewel! and remember
Sylvander
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