Reader, would you have married him?
Love
letters are not two a penny. Many no doubt were immediately consigned to the
flames and many more bundled up with pink ribbon to be likewise consigned at a
later date. Some have no doubt passed down in families though surely more by
accident than design. Some, like this one, have ended up circulating in the
market place of paper collectables. In my mind, that creates a suspicion that
Miss Caroline Clark did Not marry Mr Thomas Peck. I cannot get a trace
of any marriage online.
It
may be that this letter was directed to a pick-up point (see the address line)
to provide the recipient with privacy; but it is also the case that The Bell at Bury St Edmunds was an established coaching inn which was the actual terminus of the mail coach
from London. Lackford where Miss Clark is working or staying with Mr Roper is
six miles north of Bury. Thomas Roper was a yeoman farmer of the
period and the wider Clark family prominent in local trade, notably brewing, in
and around Bury. The Peck family my also have had a Suffolk connection.
The
sender Thomas Peck appears to have been a well-off shipowner and the address he
uses is in the /East Smithfield Docklands East End of London. That I have got the right “Thomas
Peck” is supported by the maritime rhetoric deployed in the letter.
For a letter about love see on this site:
https://www.otherpeoplesletters.com/2026/07/what-love-is-barnard-slater-defends-his.html
Transcription
Addressed
to: Miss Clark at Mr Roper’s Lackford, to be left at the Bell Inn Bury St
Edmunds Suffolk
Datelined:
12 Dean Street [not Soho but the Dean Street in the Docklands of East
Smithfield] Friday Night.
London
postmark dated JA 26 818 [1818], charged 8 pence on delivery
Really
my dear Caroline, your letter is so full of compliments that I am puzzled in
what way to answer it. If I were to flatter you as liberally as you bestow
encomiums on my “virtues” I should expect the next time I saw you that you
would be a very different girl to what you have hitherto appeared and what I
always wish you to remain. And so you don’t consider me as an “adviser
who is really interested in your happiness”. Allow me to hope that I may be, if
I am not already, your best friend. Pray don’t place too much
confidence, my dear girl, in the happiness which this would ever yield you. Its
charms will very shortly fade before your eyes, somewhat like “my op’ning
rose-bud” [ Robert Burns “A Rose-Bud by my Early Walk” could be the intended
reference ] Fascinating as the
pleasures of time may appear – enchanting as is the gay scene by which you are
surrounded – oh let me beg of you to recollect that “the dearest friends must
part”, that very, very soon the long grass will wave over our graves and
tears shall no longer be shed for our memory. Here the last verse of “oh Nanny”
recurs to my thoughts, “and when at last thy love shall die” [ from Thomas Percy “A Song”, the opening line is “O
Nannie, Wilt Thou Gang Wi’ me” ] &c. ah! My love these are
considerations which must embitter every joy which centres here; and on
the other hand, are fraught with sources of consolation to that mind which can
bear without painful sensations to look forwards to a dying bed, and to hope
for superior enjoyment in “another and better world”. That you are disposed to
be volatile I acknowledge I have observed with something like regret; but
increasing years and a little advice will I trust draw your attention
from trifles, to objects worthy of your serious regard. Far be it from
me, my Dear, to wish to see that placid brow overspread with melancholy. No!
Caroline. I would rather see you always laughing. But there is a medium, a kind
of temper which renders even gloom cheerful, without burdening the cheek with a
tear, for every smile. Endeavour to please every one; but cautiously avoid flattery
in attempting to afford gratification, adulation is a sort of deceit, if
possible more despicable than downright falsehood; and I hope there is no
necessity to remind you that candour is of all others the virtue I most admire.
Well, says Carry! “this is a pretty love
letter however;” – all cool, deliberate, advice without one empassioned
sentiment. (You must remember, that I shdn’t dare to reprove you ‘till you have
promised to obey). Now then I’ll
try to write something pretty &c &c &c
I
find you are afraid you have not full possession of my heart. Tis true I am not
that fickle thing which turns for every gale that blows – my conduct I trust
has always been characterised by Decision – and I only wish that your
heart was as safe as mine is. We have set sail in the ocean of life in
company [this suggests to me a pre-existing family connection] – may no
storms separate us – may we never strike against the rocks of error; but may
the gentle breezes of time waft us along together, till we arrive at the “bourn
whence none return”. [ Shakespeare, Hamlet] Troubles we must meet with –
disappointments may often stare us in the face; but welcome all if mutual
endearment is but daily increasing by the habitual exercise of sympathy. The
old song says “Love and truth and truth and love – Emulate the joys above” [words
set to one of the then popular airs for flute composed by Louis Jansen] but see
how the two are intertwined – the one cannot exist without the other – so that
however tender present feelings may be, unless blended with constancy,
the attachment is of too trivial a nature to be called Love, and is as easily
forgotten as excited. Love me sincerely, Caroline, and without resting too much
on the smiles of the world, I can calmly dare its frowns, and sip the
cup of unalloyed enjoyment from your approbation, and the hope that we shall
meet where the tear of grief is never shed and the … [opening the letter
seal has torn the page at this point] is never heaved.
________
I
am extremely sorry to hear of your indisposition, and trust that before you
have read so far, it will have vanished; tho’ I can’t help thinking it would be
very likely to return from reading such a lecture as I have taken the liberty
of writing. I staid at Colchester til 11 o’clock that night and got to town
very miserable at 6 the next morning. The hope of seeing you shortly has made
me smile again; but for some time I assure you I was ill tempered as you
were at Tea. Ben is not in London – I saw Tom on Wednesday – he was quite
well - a most dreadful Buck [Georgian dandy]- and going to dine with
Miss Smart.
Will
you oblige me by filling another sheet of paper when you have nothing else to
do? Be so kind as to give my love to Ann – and remember me properly to
Mr & Mrs Roper. I am very much engaged just now but will contrive and be out
of employ when you come to Town, if you will but let me know when I may
expect you.
If
it is evening, I dare say you are nearly asleep, and so it’s very fortunate I
have no more room, or you would soon read yourself into a dream about somebody.
Good bye, my Dear. I can request no more than that you should love as you are
beloved by
Thomas Peck
[Different
ink and pen] My Friend Charles has just wished me to add that he wishes you
would come and make him some tea,
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