Letter 95. Mary Hays to John Eccles, Saturday, 13 November 1779.¹

        The first part of your letter distressed me beyond expression; – you shall not my dearest Eccles be unhappy if your Maria can prevent it; – what is there she would not do to contribute to your felicity? – most willingly would she sacrifice her own! – Your complainings pierce me to the soul; – too fondly, too tenderly do I esteem you not to participate in all your pains. – Doubt not my affection [f. 357] even for a moment; – when this heart ceases to beat alone for my Eccles, may it be for ever still; – ’tis only for him that it feels every emotion of love, and soft affection. – When I am capable of infidelity; or even indifference, may I be treated with that contempt, which I shall so deservedly merit. – But ’tis impossible! – your little girl is too sensible of your worth, and of the value of that tenderness you profess for her; – she would not exchange her interest in your heart for myriads of worlds! – Was I to lose you would be a void – a tasteless existance;² –

“Depriv’d of love, and all its joys,

In vain we boast content;

All other pleasures are but toys,

Nor for the heart were meant.”³

The rigid, and the unfeeling may tax me with want of delicacy in thus freely declaring the artless, undisguised sentiments of my soul; – but why should I blush at owning an attachment, which is founded on the knowledge of your many virtues? – There is not a thought of my heart,

                        “Which virgins might not tell, and angels hear.”⁴

Is it a libertine, an immoral, a profane or dissipated man, for whom [f. 358] I acknowledge this tenderness? – oh no! – On the contrary it is for the best, the most amiable of his sex; – the man of feeling; –  the man of real sentiment. – How happy am I in such a lover; – I envy not the great; I wish not for riches, unless to bestow them on my Eccles. – Can wealth give happiness? – are there any pleasures, (worthy the name,) but those of the heart? – All else is delusion, the gay dream of an hour; unlike the solid, sincere satisfaction which flows from “content, retirement, rural quiet, progressive virtue, and approving heaven.”5⁴ – Had the Muses been favorable to me, I should certainly have sent you some little compliment yesterday; – but it was in vain I courted their assistance; – in plain prose then accept my sincerest wishes for many happy returns of the day; – may the choicest blessings of heaven be profusely showered upon your head; – may all your wishes be fulfilled, and the remainder of your life be one unvaried scene of felicity. –  

    I felt the disappointment on Thursday, with all its bitterness; – you know not how much your Maria suffered from the disagreeable necessity; – think then how much the additional weight of your displeasure must affect her; – I hope we shall yet go; and I cannot help promising myself much pleasure from the excursion. – Never be angry with your little girl again without hearing her; your displeasure makes her miserable; indeed she cannot bear it. – I have no pens but of my own making, which you may suppose [f. 359] are excellent, therefore you must pardon this scrawl. – Adieu! With the sincerest affection I am intirely yours,

                                Maria Hays. –

Saturday Nov^r 13^th 1779.

¹ Brooks, Correspondence 192-93; Wedd, Love Letters 168-69.

² Similar to a passage in Brooke, Emily Montague, 2.136.

³ Lyrics to the popular song, "Love, our Greatest Blessing," which appeared in the Monthly Melody: or Polite Amusement for Gentlemen and Ladies ... Composed by Dr. Arne (London: G. Kearsly, 1760), 32-33. Kearsley was one of London's Dissenting booksellers/printers.  

⁴ Line adapted from Prior’s Henry and Emma (p. 8); line is also used in Letter 45. 

⁵ Lines from Thomson’s The Seasons, “Spring.”