Mr. Hodgson, it seems, did not sympathize with Abernethy's scruples and difficulties, but simply encouraged him to overcome them. It is wonderful how even the greatest minds are influenced sometimes by a timely "pat on the back." We recollect a distinguished public man, and a peculiarly single-minded one too, once observing, that few people had any idea of the comfort which public men sometimes derived from any one, whom they imagined sincere, simply saying, "You were quite right, I think." Whatever Abernethy might, or might not, have owed to some little help of this kind, it is quite certain that he at last opened his heart to Miss Threlfall, or at least essayed so to do; but, apparently not very well assured that he had said what he intended to say, he supported it by a letter, which proved successful.
This letter is still extant, and an interesting document it is. It forms a curious commentary on the numerous and dissimilar versions which have been given of it by gossip; all the versions we ever heard having had the common character of being in every respect entirely unlike the original. Here it is:
"Tuesday.
"I have felt extremely anxious, dearest Lady, since I had the pleasure to be with you, lest, from my embarrassment in delivering my sentiments, I might have said any thing liable to misapprehension. This anxiety induces me to trouble you with the present letter. I had designed, in our last conversation, to have said, that I had ever regarded the marriage state as that of the greatest happiness. It always appeared to me that two persons of different sexes living together in reciprocal benevolence were placed at the summit of human felicity. Hard necessity has, however, precluded me from the enjoyment of such bliss; and when I had at length relinquished even the idea of it, by accident I met with a lady in whom were concentred all the qualities which I could have wished for in the moments of fondest expectation, and from whom I was led to believe I might derive what I had ever regarded as the greatest happiness. This was to me one of those circumstances of the reality of which the mind seems doubtful, from the excess of delight that it occasions. I had wished, dearest Lady, at our last interview, to have convinced you that I was capable of discerning and loving you, as well for the perfections of your mind, as for the charms of your person. I have ever been an enthusiastic admirer of intellectual excellence; and in the minds of some ladies whom I have known, I have distinguished a purity of thought and benevolence of design which I have never found, nor can I expect to find, amongst men. In addition to these simple and fascinating qualities, I have witnessed a clearness of perception and judgment, an undeviating rectitude of principle, and, as the result of these and other qualities, such a dignity of character, that I have looked up to the possessor of them as to something divine. I had wished to have made you acquainted, in some degree, with my own character, as far as I might have been supposed to have acquired that most difficultly attained information, a knowledge of myself. I perceive, however, an impropriety in saying much upon this subject; but I wish you to be assured, that I am incapable of uttering any thing false or deceitful, and that consequently you may rely upon my word. I have pursued every object in life with an avidity which has appeared to many disproportionate to its value; but surely, if an object be worth attaining, neither diligence should be spared nor time lost in its attainment. How anxious and earnestly interested must a person of this disposition, with respect to subjects of little importance, feel when engaged in what he considers as the most important concern of his life. I shall suffer the greatest inquietude until I am assured of your good opinion. This letter has been written by snatches, in the midst of the avocations of this day, which now so call upon me, that I can only add (what I hope may be an unnecessary assurance) that I shall ever be, with the truest affection, and most faithfully yours.
"John Abernethy."
This beautiful letter is very characteristic. The simplicity and straightforwardness,—the respect and tenderness, "Dearest Lady,"—the brief, modest, but truthful tone in which he alludes to his own pretensions,—the plea for his earnestness deducible from his known character in ordinary pursuits,—his frank confession of anxiety and inquietude until he is assured of her "good opinion,"—and his naïveté in saying that his occupations oblige him to conclude,—all respectively sketch the natural warmth, tenderness, sincerity, and earnestness of his real disposition.
The marriage took place accordingly in the parish church of All Saints, Edmonton, on the 9th of January, 1800, and is thus entered in the Register:
"John Abernethy, Bachelor, of the Parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn, to Anne Threlfall, of this Parish, Spinster, were married in this Church by licence, the 9th day of January, 1800, by me,
"D. Warren, Vicar.
"This marriage was solemnized between us:
"John Abernethy.
"Anne Threlfall."In the presence of
"Jonathan Patten.
"William Hodgson.
"J. Hodgson.
"Mary Threlfall.
"Charlotte Hodgson."
By marriage Abernethy obtained a partner for life who to personal attractions added those social and moral excellences which combine to form a superior woman—one to whom such a man as Abernethy could, and always did, to his last moment, look up with equal respect and affection, as the wife, mother, and the friend. As a husband, there can be no doubt that, during the thirty years he lived after his marriage, his conduct was a practical commentary on, and fulfilment of, the preceding letter; and he endeavoured at all times to convey to the children the warm sentiments of respect for, and reliance on, their mother that he had seen so much reason himself to entertain. On the other hand, it is impossible to overrate the grateful warmth with which Mrs. Abernethy returned his affection, or the veneration and respect with which she honored his memory.
Few persons, if any, have experienced a longer period of uninterrupted happiness than that which followed the marriage of Abernethy. Mrs. Abernethy survived him twenty-four years, having died in July, 1854. She had for many years been afflicted with paralysis, which at times was attended with considerable suffering. It was consolatory, however, to feel that her faculties remained without being materially impaired to the last.
Mr. Abernethy had, in his last illness, repeatedly expressed his anxiety that every kindness and care should be shown towards her to whom he felt so much indebted; and he had prophetically suggested, as probable, what really happened. He said, "Take every care of your dear mother. She may have many and perhaps serious illnesses; but she will still be, most likely, a long-lived woman." This legacy, we have reason to know, was most fully and kindly administered.