When Mr. Snodgrass had perused this epistle, he paused some time,
seemingly in doubt, and then he said to Mr. Micklewham, that, considering
the view which the Doctor had taken of the matter, and that he had not
gone to the playhouse for the motives which usually take bad people to
such places, he thought there could be no possible harm in reading the
letter to the elders, and that Mr. Craig, so far from being displeased,
would doubtless be exceedingly rejoiced to learn that the playhouses of
London were occasionally so well employed as on the night when the Doctor
was there.
Mr. Micklewham then inquired if Mr. Snodgrass had heard from Mr. Andrew,
and was answered in the affirmative; but the letter was not read. Why it
was withheld our readers must guess for themselves; but we have been
fortunate enough to obtain the following copy.
LETTER XVII
Andrew Pringle, Esq., to the Rev. Mr. Charles Snodgrass
LONDON.
MY DEAR FRIEND--As the season advances, London gradually unfolds, like
Nature, all the variety of her powers and pleasures. By the Argents we
have been introduced effectually into society, and have now only to
choose our acquaintance among those whom we like best. I should employ
another word than choose, for I am convinced that there is no choice in
the matter. In his friendships and affections, man is subject to some
inscrutable moral law, similar in its effects to what the chemists call
affinity. While under the blind influence of this sympathy, we,
forsooth, suppose ourselves free agents! But a truce with philosophy.
The amount of the legacy is now ascertained. The stock, however, in
which a great part of the money is vested being shut, the transfer to my
father cannot be made for some time; and till this is done, my mother
cannot be persuaded that we have yet got anything to trust to--an
unfortunate notion which renders her very unhappy. The old gentleman
himself takes no interest now in the business. He has got his mind at
ease by the payment of all the legacies; and having fallen in with some
of the members of that political junto, the Saints, who are worldly
enough to link, as often as they can, into their association, the
powerful by wealth or talent, his whole time is occupied in assisting to
promote their humbug; and he has absolutely taken it into his head, that
the attention he receives from them for his subscriptions is on account
of his eloquence as a preacher, and that hitherto he has been altogether
in an error with respect to his own abilities. The effect of this is
abundantly amusing; but the source of it is very evident. Like most
people who pass a sequestered life, he had formed an exaggerated opinion
of public characters; and on seeing them in reality so little superior to
the generality of mankind, he imagines that he was all the time nearer to
their level than he had ventured to suppose; and the discovery has placed
him on the happiest terms with himself. It is impossible that I can
respect his manifold excellent qualities and goodness of heart more than
I do; but there is an innocency in this simplicity, which, while it often
compels me to smile, makes me feel towards him a degree of tenderness,
somewhat too familiar for that filial reverence that is due from a son.