Let a man do what he will by a single woman, the world is

Hear now, O seekers of wisdom and witnesses to the follies of mankind, the words of Samuel Richardson, the moral chronicler of the 18th century, who declared: “Let a man do what he will by a single woman, the world is encouragingly apt to think Marriage a sufficient amends.” These words, though spoken in the voice of his age, ring through the centuries as a rebuke to hypocrisy — a lament that society, in its blindness, often forgives sin when it is cloaked in ceremony, and demands silence from the wounded when her oppressor kneels at the altar.

The meaning of this quote is layered in irony and truth. Richardson, author of Clarissa and Pamela, wrote during a time when a woman’s virtue was seen as her only wealth, and a man’s transgression against it could be erased by the simple act of marriage. In his words lies both observation and condemnation: he saw how easily the world excused a man’s misconduct if he chose to “make it right” by marrying the very woman he had wronged. But what of her freedom? What of her consent? Society, content with outward appearances, declared that the bond of marriage washed away all shame — though the stain upon the woman’s soul, and upon justice itself, often remained.

The origin of Richardson’s thought springs from his own literary mission — to expose the moral blindness of his age. In his famous novel Clarissa, he tells the tragic story of a virtuous young woman pursued, deceived, and ultimately destroyed by a man of power and charm. When that man, Lovellace, later offers marriage as “atonement,” Clarissa refuses, for she understands what Richardson himself believed: that marriage cannot serve as amends for wrongdoing when love has been replaced by coercion, and when justice has been replaced by convenience. Through fiction, Richardson laid bare the cruel truth that society values appearances over righteousness, and reputation over reality.

Consider, my listeners, the countless women throughout history who have suffered under this same delusion. In eras gone by, when honor was prized above humanity, a woman violated or shamed was often forced to wed her aggressor to “preserve her dignity” in the eyes of others. It was believed that marriage could transform abuse into legitimacy, and sin into virtue. Yet what could such a union be but another prison? The ancient Romans, too, practiced this cruelty, believing that matrimony restored the balance of moral order. But the wise among them knew — as did Richardson — that to bind a wounded soul to her tormentor is not restoration, but perpetuation of harm.

This is why Richardson’s words burn with moral fire. He calls upon us to see through the world’s easy forgiveness, to understand that true amends cannot be made through ritual alone. Marriage, sacred though it may be, loses its holiness when it is used as a tool of erasure rather than redemption. The true measure of atonement lies not in what is done publicly, but in what is changed inwardly. The man who wrongs a woman and then seeks to “redeem” himself through ceremony without repentance deceives himself — and society deceives itself when it accepts such false restitution.

And yet, Richardson’s lesson extends beyond his century. Even in our modern age, the same spirit of hypocrisy endures. The world is still too eager to forgive the powerful when they offer gestures instead of justice, and too willing to silence the wounded for the sake of comfort and order. Whether in politics, art, or personal life, the pattern repeats: wrongdoers are redeemed through spectacle, while victims are left to bear the quiet weight of consequence. In this, we see that Richardson’s words are not merely historical — they are prophetic.

Therefore, O listeners, take this teaching to heart: do not confuse reconciliation with righteousness, nor allow appearances to excuse injustice. When harm is done, no institution — not even the sacred bond of marriage — can serve as substitute for truth, humility, and genuine remorse. Let no man believe that his vows erase his deeds; let no society praise such illusion. To make amends is to restore balance, to face the wrong without disguise, and to honor the dignity of the one who was wronged. Anything less is not justice, but vanity.

Thus spoke Samuel Richardson, a writer whose pen was a mirror to the soul of his time — and perhaps to ours as well. His words remind us that moral progress begins not with laws or ceremonies, but with the courage to see clearly. Let the world no longer mistake the appearance of decency for its substance. Let marriage return to its true purpose — a covenant of love freely chosen, not a veil for guilt. And let all who seek forgiveness know: redemption is not given through form, but earned through truth, humility, and the unwavering pursuit of what is right.