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diff --git a/9468.txt b/9468.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8da0ce2 --- /dev/null +++ b/9468.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20978 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna St. Ives, by Thomas Holcroft + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Anna St. Ives + +Author: Thomas Holcroft + +Posting Date: August 16, 2012 [EBook #9468] +Release Date: December, 2005 +First Posted: October 3, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA ST. IVES *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Charlie Kirschner, and Project +Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + +ANNA ST. IVES + +THOMAS HOLCROFT + +1792 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +Volume I +Volume II +Volume III +Volume IV +Volume V +Volume VI +VOLUME VII + +Explanatory Notes + + +ANNA ST. IVES + +_A NOVEL_ + + +VOLUME I + + +LETTER I + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Here are we, my dear girl, in the very height of preparation. We begin +our journey southward at five tomorrow morning. We shall make a short +stay in London, and then proceed to Paris. Expectation is on tiptoe: my +busy fancy has pictured to itself Calais, Montreuil, Abbeville, in +short every place which the book of post roads enumerates, and some of +which the divine Sterne has rendered so famous. I expect to find +nothing but mirth, vivacity, fancy, and multitudes of people. I have +read so much of the populousness of France, the gaiety of its +inhabitants, the magnificence of its buildings, its fine climate, +fertility, numerous cities, superb roads, rich plains, and teeming +vineyards, that I already imagine myself journeying through an +enchanted land. + +I have another pleasure in prospect. Pray have you heard that your +brother is soon to be at Paris, on his return from Italy?--My father +surprised me by informing me we should probably meet him in that +capital. I suspect Sir Arthur of an implication which his words perhaps +will not authorize; but he asked me, rather significantly, if I had +ever heard you talk of your brother; and in less than five minutes +wished to know whether I had any objections to marriage. + +My father is exceedingly busy with his head man, his plotter, his +planner; giving directions concerning still further improvements that +are to be made, in his grounds and park, during our absence. You know +his mania. Improvement is his disease. I have before hinted to you that +I do not like this factotum of his, this Abimelech Henley. The amiable +qualities of his son more than compensate for the meanness of the +father; whom I have long suspected to be and am indeed convinced that +he is artful, selfish, and honest enough to seek his own profit, were +it at the expence of his employer's ruin. He is continually insinuating +new plans to my father, whom he Sir Arthurs, and Honours, and Nobles, +at every word, and then persuades him the hints and thoughts are all +his own. The illiterate fellow has a language peculiar to himself; +energetic but half unintelligible; compounded of a few fine phrases, +and an inundation of proverbial wisdom and uncouth cant terms. Of the +scanty number of polite words, which he has endeavoured to catch, he is +very bountiful to Sir Arthur. 'That's noble! That's great your noble +honour! Well, by my truly, that's an _elegunt ideer_! But I always said +your honour had more _nobler_ and _elegunter ideers_ than any other +noble gentleman, knight, lord, or dooke, in every thing of what your +honour calls the grand gusto.' Pshaw! It is ridiculous in me to imitate +his language; the cunning nonsense of which evaporates upon paper, but +is highly characteristic when delivered with all its attendant bows and +cringes; which, like the accompaniments to a concerto, enforce the +character of the composition, and give it full effect. + +I am in the very midst of bandboxes, portmanteaus, packing-cases, and +travelling trunks. I scarcely ever knew a mind so sluggish as not to +feel a certain degree of rapture, at the thoughts of travelling. It +should seem as if the imagination frequently journeyed so fast as to +enjoy a species of ecstasy, when there are any hopes of dragging the +cumbrous body after its flights. + +I cannot banish the hints of Sir Arthur from my busy fancy.--I must not +I ought not to practise disguise with any one, much less with my +Louisa; and I cannot but own that his questions suggested a plan of +future happiness to my mind, which if realized would be delightful. The +brother of my dear Louisa, the chosen friend of my heart, is to be at +Paris. I shall meet him there. He cannot but resemble his sister. He +cannot but be all generosity, love, expansion, mind, soul! I am +determined to have a very sincere friendship for him; nay I am in +danger of falling in love with him at first sight! Louisa knows what I +mean by falling in love. Ah, my dear friend, if he be but half equal to +you, he is indeed a matchless youth! Our souls are too intimately +related to need any nearer kindred; and yet, since marry I must, as you +emphatically tell me it will some time be my duty to do, I could almost +wish Sir Arthur's questions to have the meaning I suspect, and that it +might be to the brother of my friend. + +Do not call me romantic: if romance it be, it originates in the supreme +satisfaction I have taken in contemplating the powers and beauties of +my Louisa's mind. Our acquaintance has been but short, yet our +friendship appears as if it had been eternal. Our hearts understand +each other, and speak a language which, alas, we both have found to be +unintelligible to the generality of the world. + +Once more adieu. You shall hear from me again at London. Direct to me +as usual in Grosvenor Street. + +Ever and ever your + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. I am sorry to see poor Frank Henley look so dejected. He has many +good, nay I am well persuaded many great, qualities. Perhaps he is +disappointed at not being allowed to go with us; for which I know he +petitioned his father, but was refused; otherwise I could easily have +prevailed on Sir Arthur to have consented. + +I am determined to take King Pepin[1] with me. It is surely the most +intelligent of all animals; the unfeathered bipeds, as the French wits +call us two-legged mortals, excepted. But no wonder it was my Louisa's +gift; and, kissing her lips, imbibed a part of her spirit. Were I to +leave it behind me, cats, and other good for nothing creatures, would +teach it again to be shy, and suspicious; and the present charming +exertion of its little faculties would decay. The development of mind, +even in a bird, has something in it highly delightful. + +[Footnote 1: A goldfinch which the young lady had so named.] + +Why, my Louisa, my friend, my sister, ah, why are not you with me? Why +do you not participate my pleasures, catch with me the rising ideas, +and enjoy the raptures of novelty? But I will forbear. I have before in +vain exhausted all my rhetoric. You must not, will not quit a +languishing parent; and I am obliged to approve your determination, +though I cannot but regret the consequence. + + + + +LETTER II + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose Bank_ + +Health, joy, and novelty attend the steps of my ever dear and charming +Anna! May the whirling of your chariot wheels bring a succession of +thoughts as exhilarating as they are rapid! May gladness hail you +through the day, and peace hush you to sleep at night! May the hills +and valleys smile upon you, as you roll over and beside them; and may +you meet festivity and fulness of content at every step! + +I too have my regrets. My heart is one-half with you; nay my beloved, +my generous mamma has endeavoured to persuade me to quit her, arguing +that the inconvenience to her would be more than compensated by the +benefit accruing to myself. The dear lady, I sincerely believe, loves +you if possible better than she does me, and pleaded strenuously. But +did she not know it was impossible she should prevail? She did. If my +cares can prolong a life so precious but half an hour, is it not an +age? Do not her virtues and her wisdom communicate themselves to all +around her? Are not her resignation, her fortitude, and her +cheerfulness in pain, lessons which I might traverse kingdoms and not +find an opportunity like this of learning? And, affection out of the +question, having such high duties to perform, must I fly from such an +occasion, afflicting though it be? No! Anna St. Ives herself must not +tempt me to that. She is indeed too noble seriously to form such a +wish. Answer, is she not? + +Oh that I may be deceived, but I fear you expect too much from my +brother. Oh that he might be worthy of my Anna! Not for my own sake; +for, as she truly says, we [That is our souls, for I know of no other +we]. We cannot be more akin; but for his own. He is the son of my +beloved mother, and most devoutly do I wish he might be found deserving +of her and you. He would then be more deserving than any man, at least +any young man, I have ever known. Though brother and sister, he and I +may be said to have but little acquaintance. He has always been either +at school, or at college, or in town, or on his travels, or in some +place where I did not happen to be, except for short intervals. I have +told you that his person is not displeasing, that his temper appears to +be prompt and daring, but gay, and that his manners I doubt are of that +free kind which our young gentlemen affect. + +To say the truth however, I have heard much in favour of Coke Clifton; +but then it has generally been either from persons whose good word was +in my opinion no praise, or from others who evidently meant to be civil +to me, or to the family, by speaking well of my brother. I believe him +to have much pride, some ambition, a high sense of fashionable honour; +that he spurns at threats, disdains reproof, and that he does not want +generosity, or those accomplishments which would make him pass with the +world for a man whose alliance would be desirable. But the husband of +my Anna [you perceive I have caught your tone, and use the word husband +as familiarly as if there were any serious intention of such an event, +and as if it were any thing more than the sportive effusion of fancy, +or rather the momentary expansion of friendship] the husband of my Anna +ought to be more, infinitely more, than what the world understands by +such phrases; if it can be said to understand anything. Forgive the +jingle, but, to pair with her, he ought to be her peer. And yet if she +wait till time shall send her such a one, and that one every way proper +for her alliance, in her father's opinion as well as in her own, I am +afraid her chance of marriage will be infinitely small. + +Were I but assured that Coke Clifton would be as kind and as worthy a +husband, to Anna St. Ives, as any other whom it were probable accident +should ever throw in her way, I should then indeed seriously wish such +a thought might be something more than the transient flight of fancy. +But enough. You are on the wing to the city where you and he will +probably meet. Examine him well; forget his sister; be true to yourself +and your own judgment, and I have no fear that you should be deceived. +If he prove better even than a sister's hopes, he will find in me more +than a sister's love. + +I like Sir Arthur's favourite, Abimelech Henley, still less than you +do. My fears indeed are rather strong. When once a taste for +improvement [I mean building and gardening improvement] becomes a +passion, gaming itself is scarcely more ruinous. I have no doubt that +Sir Arthur's fortune has suffered, and is suffering severely; and that +while that miserly wretch, Abimelech, is destroying the fabric, he is +purloining and carrying off the best of the materials. I doubt whether +there be an acre of land in the occupation of Sir Arthur, which has not +cost ten times its intrinsic value to make it better. It is astonishing +how Sir Arthur can be [pardon the expression, my dear] such a dupe! I +have before blamed, and must again blame you, for not exerting yourself +sufficiently to shew him his folly. It concerns the family, it concerns +yourself, nearly. Who can tell how far off the moment is when it may be +too late? My mamma has just heard of a new mortgage, in procuring of +which the worthy Abimelech acted, or pretended to act, as agent: for I +assure you I suspect he was really the principal. During my last visit, +if I do not mistake, I several times saw the pride of wealth betraying +itself; and only subdued by the superior thirst of gain. + +Poor Frank Henley! Is it not miraculous that such a father should have +such a son? I am tempted to give utterance to a strange thought! Why +should I not? What is the opinion of the world; what are its +prejudices, in the presence of truth? Yet not to respect them is to +entail upon ourselves I know not what load of acrimony, contempt, and +misery! I must speak--I never yet met a youth whom I thought so +deserving of Anna St. Ives as Frank Henley! The obstacles you will say +are insurmountable. Alas! I fear they are. And therefore 'tis fortunate +that the same thought has not more strongly occurred to you. Perhaps my +caution would have been greater, but that I know your affections are +free; and yet I confess I wonder that they are so. If it be the effect +of your reason, the praise you merit is infinite: and I hope and +believe it is; for, notwithstanding all the tales I have heard and +read, my mind is convinced of nothing more firmly than that the passion +of love is as capable of being repressed, and conquered, as any other +passion whatever: and you know we have both agreed that the passions +are all of them subject to reason, when reason is sufficiently +determined to exert its power. + +I have written a long letter; but, writing to you, I never know when to +end. + +Heaven bless my Anna St. Ives! + +LOUISA CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER III + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Oliver, I am wretched! The feeble Frank Henley is a poor miserable +being! The sun shines, the birds warble, the flowers spring, the buds +are bursting into bloom, all nature rejoices; yet to me this mirth, +this universal joy, seems mockery--Why is this? Why do I suffer my mind +thus to be pervaded by melancholy? Why am I thus steeped in gloom? + +She is going--Thursday morning is the time fixed--And what is that to +me?--Madman that I am!--Who am I? Does she, can she, ought she to think +of me?--And why not? Am I not a man; and is she more than mortal?--She +is! She is!--Shew me the mortal who presumes to be her equal! + +But what do I wish? What would I have? Is it my intention or my desire +to make her wretched? What! Sink her whom I adore in the estimation of +the world; and render her the scoff of the foolish, the vain, and the +malignant?--I!--I make her wretched!--I!-- + +Oliver, she treats me with indifference--cold, calm, killing +indifference! Yet kind, heavenly kind even in her coldness! Her +cheerful eye never turns from me, nor ever seeks me. To her I am a +statue--Would I were! Why does she not hate me? Openly and absolutely +hate me!--And could I wish her to love? Do I love? Do I? Dare I? Have I +the temerity so much as to suspect I love?--Who am I? The insignificant +son of--! + +And who is she? The daughter of a Baronet--Pshaw! What is a +Baronet?--Away with such insolent, such ridiculous distinctions. She is +herself! Let Folly and Inferiority keep their distance! + +But I?--Low bred and vulgar let Pride and Error call me, but not +villain! I the seducer of men's daughters! Noble men and still nobler +daughters! I! Why, would I be so very vile a thing? Would I, if I +could? + +Yet who shall benumb the understanding, chain up the fancy, and freeze +sensation? Can I command myself deaf when she sings, dead when she +speaks, or rush into idiotism to avoid her enchantments? + +Despise me, Oliver, if thou wilt, but the deep sense I have of my own +folly does but increase the distemper of my brain. She herself pities +me, yet does not suspect my disease. 'Tis evident she does not; for her +soul is above artifice. She kindly asked--was I not well? I owned I was +not quite so cheerful as I could wish to be; and [wouldst thou think +it?] was presumptuous enough to hint that I thought the enlivening air +of France might do me good. Thou seest how frantic I am! She answered +with the utmost ease, and without the most distant suspicion of my +selfish, my audacious motive, that she would speak to Sir Arthur. But I +was obliged to request her to forbear, till I had first tried to gain +my father's consent, of which indeed I had but feeble hopes. + +Every way miserable, why am I obliged to think and speak of my father +with so little respect? Indeed he is--Well, well!--He is my father--I +am convinced he is become wealthy; nay indeed he gives me to understand +as much, when he wishes to gain any purpose, by endeavouring to excite +avarice in me, which he hopes is, and perhaps supposes must be, mine +and every man's ruling passion. Yet, no; he cannot: his complaints of +me for the want of it are too heartfelt, too bitter. + +He has kept me in ignorance, as much as was in his power. Reading, +writing, and arithmetic is his grand system of education; after which +man has nothing more to learn, except to get and to hoard money. Had it +not been for the few books I bought and the many I borrowed, together +with the essential instruction which thy excellent father's learning +and philanthropy enabled and induced him to give me, I should probably +have been as illiterate as he could have wished. A son after his own +heart! One of his most frequent and most passionate reproaches is 'the +time I _waste_ in reading.' + +I scarcely need tell thee he was almost in a rage, at my request to +accompany Sir Arthur to France; stating, as I did, that it ought to be +and must be at his expence. Otherwise he cares but little where I go, +being rather regarded by him as a spy on his actions than as his son. +Thou canst not conceive the contempt with which he treats me, for my +want of cunning. He despises my sense of philanthropy, honour, and that +severe probity to which no laws extend. He spurns at the possibility +of preferring the good of society to the good of self--But, once again, +he is my father. + +Prithee lend me thy Petrarch, and send it in return by Thomas. I had +nothing to say, though I have written so much, except to ask for this +book, and to burden thee with my complaints. Remember me kindly to thy +most worthy father, and all the family. Thine, + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER IV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Oh, Louisa! I have such a narrative! Such accidents! Such--! But you +shall hear. + +We are arrived; and, thank God and good fortune, are all alive; which, +every thing considered, is no small consolation. The chaise was at the +door punctually at five on Thursday morning. Abimelech Henley had been +very busy with Sir Arthur over night; and was in close conference with +him again previous to our departure. + +Frank too was there, as disconsolate and as attentive as ever; active +and watchful that every thing was as it should be. How the difference +between soul and soul discovers itself in such scenes! I very much fear +his father treats him unkindly, and that he grieves more than he ought; +nay more than a person of his youth, strong form, and still stronger +mind, could be supposed to grieve. I understand he very much laments +the loss of a college education, which the miser his father could very +well have bestowed upon him, had not his heart been as contracted as +the mouth of his purse. + +Mr. Trenchard, luckily for Frank, early discovered his genius, and +gratuitously aided him in his studies. Frank reveres him as a more than +father, and loves his son Oliver like a brother. He is but too sensible +that a true father feeds the mind, and that he who only provides for +the body is no better than a step-father. I have some fear that there +is another cause for his dissatisfaction, and that he has cherished +some silly thoughts of an impossible nature. If so, an effort must be +made which I hope will restore him to reason. And yet what right have I +to conclude that he reasons erroneously? Have I sufficiently examined? +This is a question which has several times lately forced itself upon my +mind. I am not insensible of his high worth: it opens upon me daily. +What I am going to relate will picture that worth better than any +praise of mine. I will therefore continue my narrative. + +Every thing being adjusted, off we went; I, Laura, and Sir Arthur, in +the chaise, and one footman only with us, who was to ride before as our +courier, and prepare horses. + +I told you of my intention to take King Pepin with me; but the morning +of our departure was all hurry, and it seldom happens that something is +not forgotten, amid the tumult into which the passions seem to plunge +as it were with delight, gratified with the confusion which themselves +create. I must own I was vexed and offended with myself, when I found +that the something overlooked on this occasion was the gift of my +Louisa. Ingratitude with all its reproaches rose up to sting me; and I +immediately resolved to punish myself, by informing my Louisa how +unworthy I am of the gifts of such a friend. It was at the first stage +where we changed horses that I made this discovery. One moment I was +inclined to petition Sir Arthur to stay, while a messenger should be +sent; but the next I determined that my fault should incur its due +pains and penalties. + +Every thing was ready; but just as we had seated ourselves in the +chaise, and were again proceeding on our journey, one of the servants +of the inn called to Sir Arthur to stop, for young Mr. Henley was +coming up full speed on the bay mare. Frank and the bay mare are both +famous through the whole country. My father immediately prognosticated +some bad accident, and I began to be alarmed. Our fears however were +soon dissipated, his only errand being to bring my charming favourite. + +I confess I was not a little moved by this mark of attention, which +indeed is but one among many, as well as by the peculiarity of the +youth's manner in delivering the bird. He was fearful, visibly fearful, +that his desire to oblige should be thought officious. He attempted to +apologize, but knew not what to say. I thanked him very sincerely, and +in the kindest manner I could; and, seeing him booted, the thought +instantly struck me to request Sir Arthur's permission for him to +accompany us to London, which I imagined might give him pleasure. + +The request happened to coincide with some new project of alteration +which Sir Arthur had conceived, and which, he said, after having +further digested, he could better communicate to Frank than describe on +paper. The mare is said to be one of the best travellers in the +kingdom; and, as she was very capable of performing the journey, and +the carriage being rather heavily loaded, he accordingly kept pace with +us. + +During the day we passed many delightful scenes, and enjoyed the +charming prospects which the rich cultivation of England, and the road +we travelled, afford. Frank Henley was scarcely ever out of sight, +though he was rather watchfully assiduous than communicative. + +Sir Arthur, for his part, did not forget to point out to us what a +charming park such and such grounds might be turned into; how +picturesque a temple, or a church steeple, would look in this place; +what a fine effect a sheet of water would have in that bottom; and how +nobly a clump of trees would embellish the hill by which it was +overlooked. + +I believe I am a sad wicked girl, Louisa! I was once strangely tempted +to tell him I was much afraid his father had mistaken the trade to +which his genius was best adapted, when he made him a baronet instead +of a gardener. However I had the grace to bite my tongue and be silent. +He might have had the retort courteous upon me, and have replied that +gardening was much the most honourable trade of the two. But he would +never have thought of that answer. + +Thus the day, as I tell you, passed pleasantly and whimsically enough. +But the night! Oh!--The night!--You shall hear. + +It was the dusk of evening when we were at Maidenhead. We had then +three stages to go, and Sir Arthur began to be alarmed by the rumours +of depredations which had lately been committed on the road. I really +do not know what to say to it; but there appears to be something deeper +in the doctrine of sympathies than such silly girls as I can either +account for or comprehend. I endeavoured with all my might to oppose +the sensation, and yet I found my father's fears were catching. Frank +Henley indeed begged of me, with great energy, not to be alarmed; for +that he would die sooner than I should be insulted. Upon my honour, +Louisa, he is a gallant youth!--You shall hear--But he is a brave, a +gallant youth. + +I cannot say but I wished I were a man; though I am convinced it was +a foolish wish, and that it is a great mistake to suppose courage has +any connexion with sex; if we except, as we ought, the influence of +education and habit. My dear mother had not the bodily strength of Sir +Arthur; but, with respect to cool courage and active presence of mind, +I must say, Louisa, there was no comparison. + +We set off, however, Frank having first provided himself with a hanger +and a pair of pistols; and he now kept close to the chaise-door, +without once quitting his station. I believe Sir Arthur was heartily +glad at being thus provided with a guard, as it were unexpectedly, and +without any foresight of his own. For, not to mention gold watches and +trinkets, he had more money with him than he would have chosen to have +lost, fright out of the question. + +We proceeded thus without molestation as far as Brentford; but not +without receiving fresh hints that it was very possible we might be +visited; and then, though it began to be drawing toward midnight, Sir +Arthur thought the danger chiefly over. As it happened he was mistaken. +He was indeed, my dear! I assure you I could tremble now with the +thoughts of it, but that my woman-hood forbids. I remember how valiant +I have been in laughing at the pretty fears of pretty ladies, with +their salts, hartshorn, fits, and burnt feathers. Beside, I would not +have my Louisa think too meanly of me. Yet I assure you it was a +terrible night. + +We had just passed the broad part of Turnham Green, as Frank has since +told me, and were near the end of a lane which strikes into the +Uxbridge road, when the postillion was stopped by one highwayman, while +almost at the same instant another dashed his pistol through the +side-glass into the chaise, full in Sir Arthur's face. + +Frank was on my side--Notwithstanding the length of the journey, he +seemed to infuse his own ardour into the spirited animal on which he +rode, and was round instantaneously--It was really dreadful!--The +highwayman saw, or rather heard him coming, for it was prodigiously +dark, and fired. Poor Frank was shot!--In the shoulder--But he says he +did not feel it at first--He returned the fire; and the highwayman +exclaimed, with a shocking oath, 'I am a dead man!' He rode away +however full speed; and his associate, who stood to guard the post-boy, +rode after him. Frank imagines that, owing to the darkness of the +night, and his being so close under the chaise, they had not perceived +him when they came to the attack. + +But here let me tell you, for I am sure I ought, our protector, our +hero is not dangerously wounded. He indeed makes very light of it; but +I am persuaded he would do that if he had lost an arm. The moment the +highwaymen were gone, he rode round to me to intreat me not to be +alarmed, for that all was safe. + +Imagine whether I did not thank him, and bless him; at least in +ejaculation. Imagine what I felt, after what I _had_ heard, at hearing +him talk to me, and at being convinced that he was actually alive. I +had not the least suspicion of his being wounded, he spoke so +cheerfully; yet I naturally enquired if he were hurt. His answer +was--'No no--Not _hurt_'--But he spoke with an emphasis that +immediately raised my apprehensions. I repeated my question--'Are you +sure you are not hurt; not wounded?' He could not say no to that, and +therefore answered 'He believed he felt a slight contusion in the +shoulder; but that he was convinced it was trifling.' + +I was now seized with a fit of terror much greater, in effect, than my +former panic. I fervently intreated Sir Arthur to let the servant take +the bay mare, and ride for help! I begged, urgently, violently, for +God's sake, that he would take my place in the chaise! I would mount +the mare myself! I would do any thing! All the replies I could get were +still more vehement intercessions from Frank Henley, that I would not +be alarmed, assurances that there was not the least danger, the most +obstinate determination not to quit his post, and, notwithstanding the +pain which he could not but feel, a persisting to reload the discharged +pistol, and then to proceed. + +I know not myself how my fears were so far pacified as to yield to +this, except that his energy seemed to overpower mine. Indeed I +suffered dreadfully the rest of the way. I knew the youth's generous +spirit, and my imagination was haunted with the idea, that the blood +was flowing every foot of the road, and that he would rather drop from +the horse than be subdued. It is impossible, indeed it is, to tell you +what I felt. + +At last we arrived in Grosvenor Street; and sure enough the poor fellow +was faint with the loss of blood. 'My God!'--said I to Sir Arthur, when +the light was brought, and I saw him--'Send for a surgeon! Good +Heavens! Run! Somebody run for help!'--He still insisted he was but +slightly hurt, and began to resume all his earnestness to quiet me. Sir +Arthur did it more effectually by sending as I desired, and by telling +me that, if I continued to agitate by contending with him so much, I +might very possibly throw him into a fever, and make a wound, which +most probably was not in itself dangerous, mortal. + +I said not another word, except seriously and solemnly requesting him +to calm his mind, for his own sake, if not for mine; for that, after +being wounded in defence of me and my father, to die by my fault were +dreadful indeed. He retired with more apparent satisfaction in his +countenance than I think I ever saw before. + +I was resolved however not to go to bed, till I had received some +account from the surgeon. He came, the wound was examined, and word was +immediately sent me, by the express command of Frank, who had been told +I was sitting up for that purpose, that there was, as he had assured +me, no danger. The surgeon indeed thought proper to qualify it with no +_great_ danger. It is an old remark that surgeons are not prone to +speak too lightly of the miracles they perform. This short syllable, +great, did not fail however to disturb me very considerably. I waited +till the ball was extracted, and [Would you believe it?] brought us; +for I insisted upon seeing it. Sir Arthur called me a mad girl, adding +there was no ruling me. I persisted in questioning and cross-examining +the surgeon, till I was convinced that, as he said, there was no +_great_ danger; and I then retired to rest: that is, I retired to the +same swimming motion which the chaise had communicated to my nerves, or +my brain, or I know not what, and to dreaming of swords, pistols, +murdered men, and all the horrid ramblings of the fancy under such +impressions. + +To convince me how trifling the hurt was, the gallant Frank insisted +the next day on coming down to dinner; though he was allowed to eat +nothing but chicken broth, and a light pudding. I never saw him so +lively. His only present danger of death, he said, was by famine; and +complained jocularly of the hardship of fasting after a long journey. I +could almost have persuaded him to eat, for indeed he is a brave, a +noble youth. + +I know I never need apologize to my Louisa for the length of my +letters. How can we enjoy equal pleasure to that of thus conversing in +despite of distance, and though separated by seas and mountains? Indeed +it is a kind of privation to end; but end I must--therefore--Adieu. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER V + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +You did not expect, dear Oliver, to receive a letter from me dated at +this distance. By the luckiest accident in the world, I have been +allowed to accompany her thus far, have ridden all day with my eye +fixed upon her, and at night have had the ecstatic pleasure to defend, +to fight for her! Perhaps have saved her life! Have been wounded for +her!--Would I had been killed! Was there ever so foolish, so wrong, so +romantic a wish? And yet it has rushed involuntarily upon me fifty +times. To die for her seems to be a bliss which mortal man cannot +merit! Truth, severe truth, perhaps, will not justify these effusions. +I will, I do, endeavour to resist them.--Indeed I am ashamed of +myself, for I find I am very feeble. Yet let not thy fears be too +violent for thy friend: he will not lightly desert his duty. + +Let me tell thee, before I proceed, that my wound is slight.--We were +stopped by a couple of highwaymen. Thou never wert a witness of such +angelic sensibility as the divine creature discovered, when she found I +had received some hurt. She alarmed me beyond description, by the +excess of her feelings. Oh! She has a soul alive to all the throbs of +humanity! It shoots and shivers in every vein!--Then too when we +arrived, when candles were brought [I had bled somewhat freely, and I +suppose looked rather pale] thou hast no conception of, it is +impossible to conceive the energy with which she insisted on sending +for the best and most immediate help. + +We had another battle of sensibility; for I assure thee I was almost as +much [Did I not know her I should say more.] alarmed for her as she +could be for me. + +Yet do not imagine I am fool enough to flatter myself with any false +hopes. No: it was humanity; it was too deep a sense of a slight benefit +received; it was totally distinct from love.--Oh no! Love, added to +such strong, such acute sensations, surely, Oliver, it would have +shrieked, would have fainted, would have died!--Her fears and feelings +were powerful I grant, but they were all social, and would have been +equally awakened for any creature whom she had known, and had equal +cause to esteem. And she esteems all who have but the smallest claims +to such respect; even me!--Did I tell thee it was she who petitioned +Sir Arthur to lay his commands on me to attend them to London, knowing +I wished it; and that this was in return for the trifling favour I had +done her, in galloping after her with her favourite bird? Oh! She is +all benignity! All grace! All angel! + +Never did I feel such raptures as since I have received this fortunate, +this happy wound!--Yet why?--Is not her heart exactly what it was? It +is. I should be an idiot not to perceive it is. Strange contradiction! +Hopeless yet happy!--But it is a felicity of short duration. + +Would it were possible for me to accompany her to France! My restless +foreboding imagination has persuaded me she will be in danger the +moment she is from under my protection. Vain fool! Who, what am +I?--Because a couple of dastardly highwaymen have galloped away at the +first report of a pistol, my inflated fancy has been busy in persuading +me that I am her hero! + +Yet I wish I might go with her! Tell me, Oliver, wouldst not thou wish +so too? Would not all the world wish the same? Didst thou ever in thy +life behold her without feelings unusual, throbs, doubts, desires, and +fears; wild, incoherent, yet deriving ecstasy from that divinity which +irradiates her form and beams on every object around her?--Do!--Think +me a poor, raving, lovesick blockhead! And yet it is true! All I have +said of her, and infinitely more, is true! Thou nor the world cannot +disprove it! Would I might go with her! + +I have seen the fellow with whom I had the rencounter. His wound is +much more severe than mine. Sir Arthur sent information to the office +in Bow Street. Wouldst thou think a highwayman could be so foolish a +coxcomb as to rob in a bright scarlet coat, and to ride a light grey +horse? The bloodhunters [I am sorry that our absurd, our iniquitous +laws oblige me to call them so] the bloodhunters soon discovered the +wounded man. Forty pounds afforded a sufficient impulse. They were +almost ready to quarrel with me, because I did not choose to swear as +heartily as they thought proper to prompt. Thou knowest how I abhor the +taking away the life of man, instead of seeking his reformation. + +After persisting that it was impossible for me to identify the person +of the highwayman, as indeed it really was, and luckily prevailing on +Sir Arthur to do the same [though he, like most folks who have any +thing to lose, was convinced it would be an excellent thing if all +rogues could be instantly hanged, like dogs, out of the way] I paid the +poor wretch a visit, privately, and gave him such a lecture as, I +should hope, he would not easily forget. It was not all censure: +soothing, reasoning, and menace were mingled. My greatest effort was to +convince him of the folly of such crimes; he had received some proof of +the danger. He was in great pain, and did not think his life quite +secure. He promised reformation with all the apparent fervour of +sincerity, prayed for me, blessed me very heartily, and praised me for +my bravery. He says the Bow Street runners will leave nothing +unattempted to secure the reward, and take away his life. I have +therefore engaged to hire a lodging, and bring a hackney coach for him +myself, at seven in the morning, the hour least likely for him to be +watched or traced. I believe I was more earnest to prevent harm +happening to him than he himself was; for, having met a man upon the +stairs, whose physiognomy, dress and appearance led me to suspect him, +I questioned my penitent, who owned it was his accomplice; a determined +fellow, according to his account; an Irish gambler, whose daring +character led him, after a run of ill luck, to this desperate resource. +It was with some difficulty I could persuade him the fellow might +betray him, and join the Bow Street people. The gambler, as he says, +expects a supply, and has promised him money. But he has consented to +leave his lodging; and I think I have convinced him of the folly, +danger, and guilt of such connections. + +I found he was poor, and, except a few shillings, left him the trifle +of money which I had; endeavouring by every means to restore a lost +wretch to virtue and society. The fellow was not flint. The tears +gushed into his eyes, and I own I came away with hopes that my efforts +had not been wholly ineffectual. + +I have written by the first post, that you mayst know what is become of +me. Farewell. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER VI + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose Bank_ + +I have only time for a single line, but I cannot forbear to tell you +how great the emotions have been which I felt, my dear Anna, at reading +your last. Ten thousand thanks for your history; for so it may well be +called. You have quite filled my mind with the pictures, incidents, and +adventures of your journey.--Then your deliverer!--Such courage!--Such +fortitude!--Such--! + +I must not finish my sentence. I must not tell you all I think +concerning him. There were two or three passages in your letter which +raised doubts in my mind; but of these I was soon cured by recollecting +a sentence at the beginning--'An effort must be made which will restore +him to reason. Yet the question must be examined.'--Certainly--You +could not be Anna St. Ives, and act or feel otherwise. + +But I absolutely adore this youth, this Frank Henley! + +The boy is waiting; he will be too late for the post. Be that my excuse +for the briefness of this; but do not fail, my dear dear Anna, to write +fully every thing that passes. Your last has both warmed my feelings, +nay in some measure my fears, and excited my curiosity. + +Yours eternally, + +L. CLIFTON + + +P.S. I will write more at length tomorrow. + + + + +LETTER VII + +_Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives, Baronet_ + + _Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Most onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master, + +The instructions[1] you wus pleased to give me have bin kept in mind. +Your onnur's commands is my duties; your precepts is my laws. For why? +Your noble onnur knows how to command, and I knows how to obey. + +[Footnote 1: The editor has sometimes found it very difficult to +translate the letters of this correspondent, out of bad spelling into +English. Had they been left as they were written, they would have been +half unintelligible. The editor however has used his own judgment, in +suffering various words to retain their primitive dress; the better to +preserve what would otherwise have been too much unlike its author, had +the orthography been rendered perfect. It would have been assassination +to have omitted any of the dialectic or cant terms, in which this +honest Abimelech takes so much delight: for which reason they have been +carefully retained.] + +The willow dell is fillin up; all hands is at work. I keeps 'em to it. +The sloap of the grande kinal will be finisht and turft over in 3 +wekes; and I have chosen the younk plants for the vardunt hall: nice +wons they be too, your onnur! + +But I have a bin ponderaitin on all these thinks, and sooth an trooth +to say, your onnur, I doubt as how the bitt [I mean the kole, your +onnur] witch your noble onnur has a bin pleesd to stipilate and lay by +for these here improvements [And glorious improvements they will be, +let me tell your onnur. I think I knows a sumthink of the matter; thos +to be sure I must a say as how I am no more nur a chit, a kintlin, to +your onnur, in matters of taste and the grande goosto, and all a that +there; but I'll give your onnur my two ears if there be any think at +all komparissuble or parallel to it in all England.] But as I wus a +sayin to your noble onnur--I am afeard we shall want cash; and I am a +sure that would be a ten m of pitties. Especially if your onnur thinks +any think more of the vister, with another church steepil in +prospekshun. And to be sure it was a noble thoft; I must say it would +be a sin and a shame to let sitch an elegunt ideer a slip through your +fingurs. And then, pardn me your onnur, but for what, and for why, and +for wherefore? + +Besides all witch, your onnur wus a menshinnin a willdurness, and a +hermmutidge, and a grotto; all witch as your onnur said would conceal +the dead flat anenst the 3 old okes. And would your onnur think of +stoppin short, after havin a done all that your onnur has a done, to +bring Wenbourne Hill into vogue an reppitaishun, and make it the talk +of the hole kuntree? Nay, for the matter of that, it is a that already; +that I must say. But then, as your onnur says, in answer, nothink is +done till every think is done. + +And so I have paradventerd umbelly to speak my foolish thofts, on this +here business. For why? I knows a what your onnur will say. Your onnur +will tell me, when your onnur comes back. Ay, honest Aby, I wish the +shiners' that I a spent and a bamboozild in that there France had a bin +strewed over these here grounds. For, over and above of what I a bin a +menshinnin to your onnur, there is the tempel beside a the new +plantation, of a witch your onnur has so long a bin talkin of a buildin +of. And then there is the extenshun and ogmenshun of the new ruins. So +that all together, I must say that if simple honest Aby might +paradventer to put in my oar to so generous and so noble a gentleman, +and moreover won of his majesty's baronets, why I would keep the money +now I had a got it; since, as your onnur finds, money is not so easy to +be a come at. Pray your onnur, I beesiege your onnur don't forget that; +money is not so easy to be a come at. + +And so I most umbelly rimmane, with the blessin of almighty mercifool +praise, your onnur's most umbel and most obedient, very faithfool and +very thankfool, kind sarvent to command, + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + +P.S. I pray your onnur to think of the vister, and the willdurness, and +the hermmutidge; I pray your onnur doo ee; not forrgettin the tempel. +Think of the money your most dear gracious noble onnur; and think to +what vantidge I could a lay it out for your onnur; that is, take me +ritely your most exceptionable onnur, a savin and a sayin under your +wise onnur's purtection, and currection, and every think of that there +umbel and very submissive obedient kind. Bring me the man that a better +knows how to lay-out his pound or his penni than myself; that is, +always a savin and exceptin your noble onnur, as in rite and duty +boundin. And then as to forin parts! Why, lawjus mighty! Your noble +onnur has 'em at your fingur's ends. The temple will stand; blow or +snow, a there it will be; I'll a answer for that; a shillin's worth for +every shillin: but ast for the money a squitterd a here and a there in +forin parts, what will your most noble onnur ever see for that? I most +umbelly condysend to beg and beesiege your good and kind onnur's noble +pardn for all this audacious interpolation, of and by witch any but +your most disrespectfool onnur would say wus no better but so much mag: +but I hopes and trusts your onnur, as you always have bin henceforth in +times passt, is in the mind a well to take what a well is meant. + +And so I wonce and again most perrumptallee beg leave, in all lowliness +by the grace and blessin of God in his infinit goodness and mercy to +superscribe meself. + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER VIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Frank Henley's accident has necessarily delayed our journey for a +fortnight; nay, it was within an ace of being delayed for ever, and +[Would you think it possible?] by the artful remonstrances of this +Abimelech Henley. I have been obliged to exert all my influence, and +all my rhetoric, upon Sir Arthur, or it would have been entirely given +up. Rapacious and narrow in his own plans, this wretch, this honest +Aby, as my father calls him, would not willingly suffer a guinea to be +spent, except in improvements: that is, not a guinea which should not +pass through his hands. A letter from him to Sir Arthur has been the +cause of this contest. + +I hope however, my dear, that Sir Arthur's affairs are not in so bad a +train as your fears [expressed in your letter of the third] cause you +to imagine. Should they be so, what will become of my brother? A mere +man of fashion! Active in the whole etiquette of visiting, dressing, +driving, riding, fencing, dancing, gaming, writing cards of compliment, +and all the frivolous follies of what, by this class of people, is +called _the world_; but indolent in, or more properly incapable of all +useful duties. + +I stand rather high in his opinion, and he has done me the honour to +consult me lately on a family affair. The Edgemoor estate, of eight +hundred per annum, is entailed on him, as the heir of St. Ives, by my +grandfather's will; with right of possession at the age of twenty-four. +Sir Arthur I suppose does not find it convenient to abridge his income +so materially, and has been endeavouring to persuade him that it is his +duty and interest not to insist upon possession; at least for the +present. My brother is not pleased with the proposal, and has +complaisantly written to ask my opinion, with an evident determination +to follow his own, he having now almost completed his twenty-fourth +year. My answer was an attempt [I fear a vain one] to call to his mind +the true use of money; and, unless he should have found the art of +employing it worthily, I advised him to shew his filial affection and +oblige Sir Arthur. + +I can prophesy however that he will have no forbearance. Not to mention +debts, he has too many imaginary and impatient wants to submit to +delay. Neither have I any great desire that he should; being convinced +that the want of money is the only impediment that can put a stop to +Sir Arthur's improvements. + +But this honest Aby!--The same post that brought me your letter of the +eleventh,[1] brought one for Sir Arthur; and while I was meditating on +the contents of yours, and not a little chagrined at the confirmation +of your intelligence concerning the mortgage--[Chagrined that my father +should be the instrument, the tool of such a fellow: chagrined that his +family should be in danger, and himself made a jest]--while I was +considering what were the best means, if there were any, of inducing +Sir Arthur to abandon projects so foolish, and so fatal, Laura came +running with the news that our journey to France was all over, that +orders to that effect had been given, and that a chaise was to be at +the door in an hour, to take Sir Arthur back to Wenbourne-Hill. + +[Footnote 1: This and other letters are occasionally omitted, as not +containing any new information.] + +This incident, in my then temper of mind, produced its full effect. I +knew Sir Arthur's way: I knew he would not willingly see me himself; +and, immediately suspecting that his letter was from honest Aby, I +determined if possible he should not escape me. He was in his own room; +and how to draw him out? An hour would soon be gone! I therefore +employed an artifice, which, on after recollection, I am convinced was +wrong; very wrong! I went into the drawing-room, and bade the footman +go to him and announce Miss Wenbourne. I have a maiden aunt of that +name, whom I was christened after, who lives in London, and whom I +believe you never saw. The trick succeeded, and Sir Arthur came into +the drawing-room. He looked disconcerted at seeing me, and the +following dialogue began. + +Heydey, Anna! Where is your aunt? + +Sir, I am afraid I have done an unjustifiable thing. [My conscience +then first smote me, with a conviction that what I had persuaded myself +was a defensible artifice was neither more nor less than a direct +falsehood; which of all crimes, you know, I think one of the most mean, +hateful, and pernicious. The just confusion I felt had nearly ruined my +cause.] + +Why!--What!--What do you mean?--Where is your aunt? + +She is not here, sir. It was I who wished to speak to you. + +You! And send in your aunt's name? + +My name is Wenbourne, sir. + +Your name is St. Ives, miss. + +I feel, sir, how exceedingly culpable I am; and perhaps do not deserve +that you should pardon me. [My father began to suspect the reason of my +wishing to speak with him, and did not know whether good nature or ill +would serve his cause the best. I perceived him cast an eye toward the +door.] + +This is extraordinary!--Very extraordinary, upon my soul! + +[I saw it was time to recover my spirits.] I have heard something which +I scarcely can believe to be true, sir. + +What have you heard? What have you heard? + +That you are going back to Wenbourne-Hill. + +Well, what then? + +And that you do not intend we should visit France. + +Who told you so? + +The servants have orders to that effect. + +The servants are a parcel of busy blockheads! + +What can have occasioned you, sir, to change your opinion so suddenly? + +My affairs. [He looked again toward the door, but he felt it was too +late; and that he must now either defend or abandon his cause.] The +journey will be too expensive. + +If, sir, the journey would in the least embarrass your affairs, and if +I did not daily see you entering into expences so infinitely greater +than this, I would not answer a word to such an argument. I think it my +duty to be as careful of your property as you yourself could be; and +for that reason have often wished I could prevail on you, in some +measure, to alter your plans. + +I have no doubt, miss, of your prodigious wisdom; you remind me of it +daily. Your plans to be sure would, as you say, be infinitely better +than mine. When you are married, or I am dead, you may do as you +please; but, in the mean time, suffer me to act for myself. I do not +choose to be under tutelage. + +I am sorry, my dear papa, to see that I offend you; but indeed I mean +the very reverse. Indeed I do! It is my zeal for your interest, my love +of you, [I ventured to take his hand] that oblige me to speak-- + +And plainly to tell me you do not approve of my proceedings! + +Plainly to tell you the truth, because I believe it to be my duty. + +Upon my word! A very dutiful daughter! I thought the duty of children +was to obey the wills of their parents. + +Obedience--[Pardon my sincerity, sir.]--Obedience must have limits. +Children should love and honour their parents for their virtues, and +should cheerfully and zealously do whatever they require of them, which +is not in itself wrong. + +Of which _children_ are to judge? + +Yes, sir: of which children are to judge. + +A fine system of obedience truly! + +They cannot act without judging, more or less, be they obedient or +disobedient: and the better they judge the better will they perform +their duty. There may be and there have been mistaken parents, who have +commanded their children to be guilty even of crimes. + +And what is that to me? Upon my word, you are a very polite young lady! +A very extraordinarily polite miss! + +God forbid, my dear papa, that you should imagine I think you one of +those parents. + +I really don't know nor don't care, madam, what you think me.--My +plans, indeed!--Disapproved by you! + +If I saw any person under a dangerous mistake, misled, wronged, preyed +upon by the self-interested, should I not be indolent or cowardly, nay +should I not be criminal, if I did not endeavour to convince such a +person of his error? And what should I be if this person were my +father? + +Upon my honour, miss, you take intolerable liberties! The license of +your tongue is terrible! + +It were better, sir, that I should subject myself to your displeasure, +and make you think unkindly of me, than that others, who pretend to be +your servants and your humble but friendly advisers, should +injure--should--I know not what! We have often heard of stewards, who +have acted the mortgagee to their own masters. [This hint was a thunder +stroke. Sir Arthur was wholly disconcerted. His mind apparently made +several attempts to recover itself; but they were all ineffectual.] + +Well, well--I, I--I know what the meaning of all this is. You--You are +vexed at being disappointed of your journey--But make yourself easy, +child; you shall go: you shan't be disappointed. + +'Tis true, sir, I wish to visit Paris; but not if it will be in the +least inconvenient to you, in money affairs. Though I own I should +indeed be vexed to see the small sum you had appropriated for this +journey wrested from you, to throw up a hill, or build a fantastic +temple in some place where its very situation would render it +ridiculous. + +Upon my word!--Was ever the like of this heard?--Don't I tell you, you +shall go? + +Indeed, sir, going is but a small part of the subject: there is another +point, which, if I could but gain, would give me infinitely more +pleasure. + +Pshaw! Girl! I can't stay to argue points with you now! I tell you, you +shall go. I give you my word you shall go; and so let's have no more of +it.--Do you hear, Anna? I am too old to be schooled. I don't like it! +Mind me! I don't like it! + +I am very sorry, sir, that I cannot find words to speak the truth which +would be less offensive. + +I tell you again there is no truth to be spoken! Have not I promised +you shall go? There's an end of the business. You shall go. + +And away went Sir Arthur; apparently happy to get rid both of me and +himself: that is, of the disagreeable ideas which, as he thought, I had +so impertinently raised. You blamed me in your last for not exerting +myself sufficiently, to shew him his folly. You see the sufficiently is +still wanting. Perhaps I have not discovered the true mode of +addressing myself to Sir Arthur's passions. For, though my +remonstrances have often made him uneasy, I cannot perceive that they +have ever produced conviction. And yet I should suppose that a certain +degree of momentary conviction must be the result of such +conversations. But the fortitude to cast off old habits, and assume +new, is beyond the strength of common mortals. + +Frank Henley is a favourite with you, and very deservedly. But, in +answer to the surprise in your former, my dear, that he has never +engaged my affections, as well as to the cautionary kind hints in your +two last, for so I understand them, let me say that, had I imagined +love to be that unconquerable fatality of which I have been speaking, I +do not know what might have happened: but, having been early convinced +that a union between him and me must be attended with I know not what +scenes of wretchedness, in short, knowing the thing in a certain sense +to be impossible, it has always been so considered by me, and therefore +I have no reason to think myself in any danger. Doubts occasionally +rise in my mind, but in general soon disappear. Should they return I +will not conceal them. + +I remember it was a remark of yours that 'Admiration is the mother of +love.' So it is, of love such as I bear to my Louisa; and of such +perhaps as angels might be supposed to bear to angels. I admire Frank +Henley, greatly, ardently admire him; yet I certainly do not love: that +is, I certainly do not permit myself to feel any of those anxieties, +alarms, hopes, fears, perturbations, and endearments, which we are told +are inseparable from that passion. I extinguish, I suffocate them in +their birth. + +I am called for: Adieu, my ever dear Louisa. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER IX + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +I have received your letter, good Abimelech, and own your reasoning has +its force. Much is yet to be done to Wenbourne-Hill. Year after year I +have said--'This shall be the last: we will now bring affairs to a +finish.' But improvement is my delight; walking, talking, sitting, +standing, or lying, waking or sleeping, I can think of nothing else. We +live you know, honest Aby, only to amend: so that, instead of +concluding, I find more things to do at present than ever. + +I have the wilderness very much at heart: but the soil is excellent, +and I scarcely know, Aby, how we shall make the land sufficiently +barren. Yet it would have a fine effect! Yes, that it certainly would, +and we will try our utmost. The hermitage too at the far end! The +moss-grown cell, Aby! With a few scattered eglantines and wild roots! +We will plant ivy round the three old oaks, and bring a colony of owls +to breed! Then at the bottom of all a grotto: Oh! it will be delicious! + +Shells will be expensive, for we are not within forty miles of the sea. +But no matter: it must and it shall be done, for I have set my heart on +it. Nay, from what you said to me, honest Aby, knowing you to be a +careful thrifty fellow, full of foresight, I was so warm in the cause +that I had determined to take your advice, and renounce or defer the +journey to France; but the blabbing servants got a hint of the matter, +and it came to my daughter's ears. So, for peace and quietness sake, I +think I must e'en indulge her, and take her a short trip to the +continent. But we will go no further than the neighbourhood of Paris. +Beside I wish, for my own part, to see how the country is laid out. I +am desirous to know whether all France has any thing to equal +Wenbourne-Hill. + +And yet, Aby, I find it is impossible to please every body. You know +what continual improvements I have been making, for these last twenty +years; for you have superintended them all. I have planted one year, +and grubbed up the next; built, and pulled down; dug, and filled up +again; removed hills, and sent them back to their old stations; and all +from a determination to do whatever could be done. And now, I believe, +there are no grounds in all England so wooded and shut in as those of +Wenbourne-Hill; notwithstanding its situation on a very commanding +eminence. We are surrounded by coppices, groves, espaliers, and +plantations. We have excluded every vulgar view of distant hills, +intervening meadows, and extensive fields; with their insignificant +green herbage, yellow lands, and the wearisome eternal waving of +standing corn. + +And yet, Aby, after having done all this, comes me Sir Alexander +Evergreen, and very freely tells me that we have spoiled +Wenbourne-Hill, buried ourselves in gloom and darkness, and shut out +the finest prospects in all England! Formerly the hall could be seen by +travellers from the road, and we ourselves had the village church in +view, all of which we have now planted out of sight! Very true: but, +instead of the parish steeple, have we not steeples of our own in every +direction? And, instead of the road, with the Gloucestershire hills and +lessening clouds in perspective, have we not the cedar quincunx? Yet +see the curse of obstinacy and want of taste! Would you think it, Aby? +Of this Sir Alexander complains! + +It is in vain to tell him that we are now all within ourselves; that +every body is surprised to see how snug we are; and that nobody can +suspect so many temples, and groves, and terraces, and ascents, and +descents, and clumps, and shrubberies, and vistas, and glades, and +dells, and canals, and statues, and rocks, and ruins are in existence, +till they are in the very midst of them. And then! Oh how have I +enjoyed their admiration! Nothing is so great a pleasure to me as to +bring a gentleman of taste, who knows how to be struck with what he +sees, and set him down in the middle of one of my great gravel walks! +For all the world allows, Abimelech, that our gravel walks at +Wenbourne-Hill are some of the broadest, the straightest, and the +finest in the kingdom. + +Yet observe how men differ, Abimelech. Sir Alexander wants me to turf +them over! He says that, where you may have the smooth verdure, gravel +walks are ridiculous; and are only tolerable in common pathways, where +continual treading would wear away the greensward. But I know what has +given him such a love for the soft grass. Sir Alexander is gouty, and +loves to tread on velvet. + +Beside he is a cynic. He blames all we have done, and says he would +render one of the deserts of Arabia the garden of Eden, with the money +we have wasted in improving Wenbourne-Hill; which he affirms, before we +touched it, was one of the most beautiful spots in the three kingdoms. + +I confess, Aby, that, if as I said I did not know him to be a cynic, I +should be heartily vexed. But it either is, or at any rate it shall be, +one of the most beautiful spots in the three kingdoms, ay or in the +whole world! Of that I am resolved; so go on with your work, Abimelech. +Do not be idle. The love of fame is a noble passion; and the name of +Arthur St. Ives shall be remembered at Wenbourne-Hill, long after his +remains are laid in their kindred clay, as the poet says. + +I desired your son Frank to accompany us to London. He is a spirited +young fellow, and behaved well on the road, where he had an affair with +a highwayman, and got a slight wound; but he is in no danger. He is a +fine fellow, a brave fellow, and an honour to you, honest Aby. + +Some grounds which I saw on my journey, with water purling, meandering, +and occasionally dashing down a steep declivity, or winding along a +more gentle descent, as it happened to be, suggested an idea to me. It +came into my mind that, as we lie high, if we had but a lake +sufficiently large on the top of the hill, we could send the water down +in rivulets on every side. But then the difficulty struck me how to get +it up again. Perhaps it may be overcome. It would have a charming +effect, and we will think of it hereafter. + +When you have received my address at Paris, do not fail to let me know, +once a week, how every thing proceeds. Be particular in your accounts, +and do not be afraid of wearying me. My heart is in my grounds and my +improvements; and the more places and things you name the more pleasure +you will give me. Write to me too concerning my herd of deer, my +Spanish sheep, my buffaloes, my Chinese pheasants, and all my foreign +live stock. + +I will make my journey as short as possible; it shall not be long +before I will re-visit my Wenbourne-Hill. To own the truth, honest Aby, +after reading your letter, I had ordered the chaise to the door to come +down again; but Anna St. Ives would not hear of it, so I was obliged to +yield. But, as I tell you, my heart is with you; Wenbourne-Hill is +never out of my mind. + +I could wish you to be cautious in your communications, Abimelech, +concerning our money matters. My daughter gave me a hint about the last +mortgage, which I did not half like. Children think they have a right +to pry into a father's expences; and to curb and brow-beat him, if the +money be not all spent in gratifying their whims. Be more close, +Abimelech, if you would oblige me. + +ARTHUR ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER X + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +I am excessively angry with myself, my dear Anna. I have not treated +you with the open confidence which you deserve, because I have had +improper fears of you. I have doubted lest an excess of friendship and +generosity should lead you into mistake, and induce you to think well +of my brother rather for my sake than for his own. But the more I +reflect the more I am convinced that duplicity never can be virtue. + +Your last letter has brought me to a sense of this. The noble sincerity +with which you immediately accused yourself, for having practised an +artifice [which I, like you, do not think was innocent, because +artifice cannot be innocent] has taught me how I ought to act; and Sir +Arthur's caprice is an additional incitement. + +I have for some time known that it has been very much desired by my +mamma to see you and Coke Clifton united. She mentioned her wish to Sir +Arthur, and he seemed pleased with the idea. She did me the honour to +consult me; and I opposed precipitate proceedings, and strenuously +argued that all such events ought to take their natural course. + +This was the origin of your present journey to Paris; and I +consequently was enjoined secrecy, of the propriety of which I doubted +at the moment. I am now convinced that secrets are always either +foolish or pernicious things, and that there ought to be none. + +The fickleness of Sir Arthur however, relative to this journey, both +surprises and pains me. It shews his weakness as well as the power of +his favourite, Abimelech, to be greater than even I imagined; and my +former thoughts were not very favourable. After having concerted this +plan with my mamma, and after preparing and proceeding a part of the +way, I can scarcely imagine what excuse he would have made to her. + +His mentioning my brother to you likewise surprised me. In conversing +with my mamma, I had told her that, if such an event were to take +place, it were desirable that you and my brother should become +acquainted, before any hint or proposal ought to be made to you. I at +present believe this to have been wrong and weak advice; but it +prevailed, and the arrangement was that my mamma should write to Coke +Clifton, to direct his route through Paris; that he should be there at +a fixed time, to transact some pretended business for her; that Sir +Arthur and you should make a journey thither on a party of pleasure, +which we all knew would be agreeable to you; and that you and my +brother should meet as if by accident. But it appears that Sir Arthur, +when he has any favourite project in view, can scarcely forbear being +communicative, not from principle but from incontinence. + +With respect to my brother, having told you all that has passed, I have +only to add, it is my earnest advice that you should be careful to put +no deception on yourself, but to see him as he is. His being the +brother of your friend cannot give him dignity of mind, if he have it +not already. Were I a thousand times his sister, I could not wish him +another wife so deserving as my Anna. But sister shall be no motive +with me to make me desirous of seeing persons united whose sentiments +and souls may be dissimilar. Had I not so much confidence in your +discernment, and truth to yourself, I should not be without uneasiness. +My opinion is that the parties should themselves reciprocally discover +those qualities which ought mutually to fit them for the friendship of +marriage. Is not that the very phrase, Anna; the _friendship of +marriage_? Surely, if it be not friendship, according to the best and +highest sense in which that word is used, marriage cannot but be +something faulty and vicious. + +I know how readily you will forgive the wrong I have done you by this +concealment; because you will perceive I acted from well meant but +mistaken sentiments. I have told my mamma my present thoughts, and have +shewed her all the former part of this letter, which she approves. Her +affection for me makes her delight in every effort of my mind to rise +superior to the prejudices that bring misery into the world; and I +often fear lest this affection should deprive her of that force, and +acumen, which in other instances would be ready to detect error, +whenever it should make its appearance. + +I need not tell my Anna how tenderly she joins with me, in wishing her +a safe and pleasant journey. All other matters she entirely commits to +my Anna's penetration, and discretion. + +Adieu. + +L. CLIFTON + + +P.S. My brother is not rich, but has great expectations. This as I +imagine occasioned Sir Arthur to receive the proposal with pleasure; +and my mamma tells me they had some talk of settlements. He was +exceedingly warm and active, in contriving this journey, for a few +days; after which I thought I observed his ardour abate. And the +probability is that Abimelech, from the first, had opposed the +excursion; but that further conversations with my mamma, and the +pleasure which the projected journey had given you, kept Sir Arthur to +his purpose. I own I began to suspect that, should such a match take +place, the recollection of parting with money, which he would willingly +have expended on improvements, had influenced his conduct; and it is +some relief to hope that he was rather acted upon than acting, if he +really did feel any wish to retract. How far he may be, or may have +been, acted upon in other instances, as well as this, is still a +further question. + +I cannot shake off a doubt which hangs on my mind; though I have been +debating all morning whether I ought to mention it or be silent. I +suspect that you yourself have not solved it entirely to your own +satisfaction. Frank Henley!--It is I think indubitable that he loves +you.--He would make you happier than perhaps any other man could upon +earth. Be not swayed by your affection for me: beware of any such +weakness. That you could love him if you would permit yourself, nay +that you are obliged to exert your whole force not to love him, I am +convinced. You are conscious of it yourself.--Is your decision +just?--Indeed it is a serious question. What is the magnitude of the +evil which would result from such a union; and what the good? +Enquire--I give no opinion. There is a mist before my eyes, and I dare +not give any, till I can see more distinctly. Think, be just, and +resolve. Your own judgment ought to determine you. + + + + +LETTER XI + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Oliver, what are we? What is man? What is virtue? What is honour?--My +pride has received a wound much more acute than that which the ball of +the highwayman inflicted on my body--I have had money palmed upon +me--Money!--A man cannot behave as he ought, and as it would be +contemptible not to behave, but he must be paid! His vices are paid! +His virtues are paid!--All is mercenary! I to be sure must be one of +the number!--A twenty pound bank note, I tell thee, forced upon me by +Sir Arthur!--No, no--Not by him--He never could have made me accept +what I supposed [falsely, however; as fact and reflection have since +led me to suspect] it was mean and degrading to accept. She only could +prevail. She whose commands are irresistible, and who condescended to +entreat!--Her eye glistening with a tear, which she with difficulty +detained in its beauteous orbit, she entreated!--There was no opposing +such intercession! Her eloquence was heavenly! God be praised that it +was so! For, as it has happened, I am persuaded it has preserved a poor +distressed creature from phrensy--Have patience, and I will tell thee. + +I had removed my penitent, and had been taking a short airing in the +park; and, as I was returning, I saw a crowd collected in a court. Led +by curiosity to enquire what was the matter, I was told that two men +had just been pursuing a third over the roofs of the neighbouring +houses; and that, having been obliged to descend through a trap-door, +they had followed him, where it was supposed he had at last been taken. +I asked what his crime was, but nobody knew. Some believed him to be a +thief, some thought it was a press-gang, and others conjectured they +were bailiffs. + +It was not long, however, before a decent, well-looking, and indeed +handsome young woman, with a fine child in her arms, came running up +the court, made her way through the crowd with terror in her +countenance, and with the most piercing cries demanded--'Where is +he?--Where is my dear Harry?--Who has seen him? Where is he?' + +Some of the people pointed out the house. She knocked violently, +continued her cries and lamentations, and at last gained admittance. + +Her grief was so moving, so sympathetic, that it excited my compassion, +and made me determine to follow her. Accordingly I elbowed my way, +though I felt that I rather disturbed the surgeon's dressing; but that +was a trifle. I followed her up stairs without ceremony. With respect +to her, affection, 'masterless passion, had swayed her to its +mood'--she was not to be repulsed. + +The prisoner and his pursuers had descended to the second floor, in +which the poor fugitive had endeavoured to seek refuge, but not soon +enough to find protection from the bailiffs, as they proved and as he +knew them to be. Never didst thou see terror so strong, nor affection +so pathetic, as this excellent young woman, his wife, discovered. +Excellent I am certain she is. She wrung her hands, she fell on her +knees, she held up her babe; and, finding these were ineffectual, she +screamed agonizing prayers to save her Harry. The idea she had +conceived of the loss of liberty, and the miseries of a prison, must +have been dreadful. But tears and prayers and cries were vain; she was +pleading to the deaf, or at least to the obdurate. + +As soon as the violence of her grief gave a momentary respite, I +enquired what the sum was for which he was in thraldom, and found it to +be sixteen pounds, beside costs. It was not a debt originally +contracted by himself; it was for a note, in which he had joined to +serve his wife's brother. It seemed they are a young couple, who by +their industry have collected a trifling sum, with which they have +taken a small shop. I did not ask of what kind. She serves her +customers, and he follows his trade, as a journeyman carpenter. It did +not a little please me to hear the young creature accuse her brother of +being false to his friend; while the husband defended him, and affirmed +it could be nothing but necessity. I could perceive however that she +grieved to think her brother was not so good as she could have wished +him to be. + +The horrors of a jail were so impressed, so rooted in her fancy, that +she was willing to sell any thing, every thing; she would give them all +she had, so that her Harry might not be dragged to a damp, foul +dungeon; to darkness, bread and water, and starving. Thou canst not +imagine the volubility with which her passions flowed, and her terrors +found utterance, from the hope that it was not possible for Christian +hearts to know all this, and not be moved to pity. + +I am well persuaded however that, had I not been there, those good +Christians the bailiffs would have paid no other attention to her panic +than to see how it might be turned to profit. The miscreants talked of +five guineas, for the pretended risk they should run, in giving him a +fortnight to sell his effects to the best advantage. They too could +recommend a broker, a very honest fellow--By what strange gradations, +Oliver, can the heart of man become thus corrupt? The harpies looked +hatefully. + +Luckily I happened to have the twenty pound note, which pride had +bidden me reject with so much scorn, in my pocket. Thou, I am certain, +wilt not ask what I did with it. I immediately tendered those same +Christians I told thee of their money. The rascals were disappointed, +and would have been surly; but a single look silenced their insolence. +One of them was dispatched, according to form, to see that there were +no detainers; and, being paid, they then set their prisoner free. + +Now, if thou thinkest, Oliver, thou canst truly figure to thyself the +overflowing gratitude of the kind young creature, the wife, thou art +egregiously mistaken. She fell on her knees to me, she blessed me, +prayed for me, and said I was an angel from heaven, sent to save her +dear Harry from destruction; she kissed him, hugged, God blessed, and +half smothered her heavenly infant, as she truly called it, with +kisses; nay she kissed me--in spirit, Oliver--I could see she did: ay +and in spirit I returned her chaste caresses. + +She entreated me with so much humble love and gratitude to come and see +her poor house, which I had saved, and to tell her my name, that she +might pray for me the longest day she had to live, that I could not +forbear gratifying her so far as to go with her. As for my name, I told +her it was man. The quick hussey understood me, for she replied--No, it +was angel. + +I found her house, like her person, neat, and in order. What is still +better, her Harry seems a kind good young man, and alive to as well as +deserving of her affection. + +Wouldst thou think it, Oliver?--The pleasure I had communicated had +reverberated back upon myself; yet the sight of a couple thus happy +gave birth to a thought of such exquisite pain that--! Something shot +across my brain--I know not what--But it seemed to indicate I should +never be so mated! + +Still, this money, Oliver--Prithee be at the trouble to examine the +question, and send me thy thoughts; for I have not been able to satisfy +myself. What is the thing called property? What are _meum_ and _tuum_? +Under what circumstances may a man take money from another? I would not +be proud; neither would I render myself despicable. + +Thou seest how I delight to impart my joys and griefs to thee. Thou +tellest me thou partakest them; and, judging by myself, I cannot but +believe thee. Tell me when thou art weary of me; I have long and often +been weary of myself. + +Yet she is very kind to me, and so kind that I have lately been +betrayed into hopes too flattering, too ecstatic to be true. Oh! Should +she ever think of me! Were it only possible she ever should be +mine!--The pleasure is too exquisite! It is insupportable!--Let me gaze +and wonder at humble distance, in silence and in awe!--Do not call me +abject--Yet, if I am so, do; tell me all that ought to be told. It is +not before her rank that I bend and sink. Being for being I am her +equal: but who is her equal in virtue?--Heavens! What a smile did she +bestow on me, when I took the money I mentioned to thee! It has sunken +deep, deep in my heart! Never can it be forgotten! Never! Never! + +Peace be with thee. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Must I be silent? Must I not tell my Louisa how infinitely her candor +and justice delight me? With the voice of a warning angel she bids me +enquire, examine my heart, and resolve. I think I have resolved; and +from reasons which I believe are not to be overcome. Yet I will confess +my opinion, strong as it is, receives violent attacks; as, Louisa, you +will be convinced, when you have read the whole of this letter. + +My friend cautions me against being partial, even in favour of her +brother. Such a friend is indeed worthy to advise, and I will remember +her precepts. This brother may be a degenerate scion from a noble +stock: yet I can hardly think the thing possible. That he may have +fallen into many of the mistakes, common to the world in which he has +lived, is indeed most likely. But the very qualities which you describe +in him speak an active and perhaps a dignified nature. + +We have duties to fulfil. Few opportunities present themselves to a +woman, educated and restrained as women unfortunately are, of +performing any thing eminently good. One of our most frequent and +obvious tasks seems to be that of restoring a great mind, misled by +error, to its proper rank. If the mind of Clifton should be such, shall +I cowardly decline what I believe it to be incumbent on me to perform? +Let him be only such as I expect, and let me be fortunate enough to +gain his affections, and you shall see, Louisa, whether trifles shall +make me desist. + +What high proofs of courage, perseverance, and of suffering, do men +continually give! And shall we wholly renounce the dignity of +emulation, and willingly sign the unjust decree of prejudice, that mind +likewise has its sex, and that women are destitute of energy and +fortitude? + +But Frank Henley!--Let me not hide a thought from my Louisa. He is +indeed worthy of being loved, every day more worthy. I have a new story +to tell, which will be more effectual praise than any words of mine. +Like you I am persuaded he has some affection for me. I am not +insensible to his worth and virtues: I ought not to be. Were I to +indulge the reveries into which I could easily fall, I might be as much +misled by passion as others, who are so ready to complain and pity +themselves for being in love. But a wakeful sense of the consequences +is my safeguard. It cannot be. I should render my father, my relations, +and friends, miserable. I should set a bad example to my sex. I, who am +at shewing them mind is superior to sex. + +Such are the thoughts that protect me from the danger. His mental +excellence perhaps I love as truly as heart could wish. But, as the +lover who is to be the husband, no! I will not suffer my thoughts to +glance in that direction. I might, but I will not. Nothing but a +conviction that my principles are wrong shall ever make me; and that +conviction I hold to be impossible. + +Do not imagine I am guilty of the mistake of supposing myself his +superior. Far the reverse. The tale which I am now about to relate will +inform you better of the true state of my feelings. + +You must know, my dear, that on our arrival in town, Sir Arthur, with +my help, prevailed on Frank Henley to accept a twenty pound bill, that +he might have the means of gratifying his inclinations, and enjoying +the pleasures which at his age it is natural he should wish to enjoy. +These means I had but too good reason to be convinced had been denied +him by his father, which I suspected to be, and am now satisfied was, +the true reason that Frank refused to attend us on our journey. + +The youth has quite pride enough, my dear: he is desirous to confer, +but not to accept obligations; is ready enough to give, but not to +receive. As if he had not only a right to monopolize virtue, but to be +exempt from the wants which are common to all, and to supply which men +form themselves into societies. He seems to shrink with exquisite pain +from the acceptance of money. However I was determined to conquer, and +conquer I did. Nor can I say, considering them as I do, that I was +sorry to offend the false feelings even of Frank Henley, for whom I +have an infinite esteem. + +After receiving this present, he accompanied me two or three times to +those public places to which crowns and half guineas gain admittance; +and, as you may imagine, was far from appearing insensible of the +powers of poetry and music. Suddenly however he refused to be any more +of such parties, for which I own I could divine no reason. I knew he +had been educated in habits of oeconomy, and therefore could not +suppose, generous though I knew him to be, that he had squandered away +his pocket-money in so short a time. I endeavoured both to rally and to +reason, but in vain; he was positive even to obstinacy; and I rightly +conjectured there must be some cause for it which I had not discovered. + +You have heard me speak, I believe, my dear, of Mrs. Clarke, as of a +careful good woman, and a great favourite with my dear mamma, when +living. She was then our housekeeper in the country, but has lately +been left in the town house; because the furniture is too valuable to +be entrusted to a less attentive person. This Mrs. Clarke had a sister +whose name was Webb, and who left a son and a daughter, who are both +married. The son, as you will soon hear, has been a wild and graceless +fellow; but the daughter is one of the most agreeable and engaging +young creatures I think I ever saw. + +Yesterday my good Mrs. Clarke and her niece were shut up together in +close conversation for a considerable time; and I perceived that their +cheeks were swelled, their eyes red, and that they had been crying +violently. I almost revere Mrs. Clarke as my mother, because of the +excellence of her heart and the soundness of her understanding. I +therefore could not forbear earnestly enquiring whether it were +possible for me to remove her cause of grief; for grieved, I told her, +I could plainly perceive she was. She burst into tears again on my +questioning her, and endeavoured to express feelings that were too big +for utterance. Turning to her niece she said--'I must inform my dear +young lady.' 'For God's sake don't! For the Lord's sake don't!' cried +the terrified creature. 'I must,' replied the aunt. 'It is proper.' 'He +will have no mercy shewn him! He will be hanged!' exclaimed the other, +in an agony. 'You do not know this lady,' said the aunt. 'Indeed she +does not,' added I, 'if she supposes I would have any creature upon +earth hanged.' 'Retire, Peggy,' said the aunt, 'while I relate the +vile, the dreadful tale.' 'No, no! For mercy's sake no!' replied the +niece. 'I must stay, and beg, and pray, and down on my knees for my +brother! He is a wild and a wicked young man, but he is my brother.' +'Pray let her stay,' said I to the aunt. 'And fear nothing, my +kind-hearted Peggy. Be assured I will not hurt a hair of your brother's +head. I will do him good if I can, but no injury.' 'The God of Heaven +bless and reward your angelic ladyship!' cried the half frantic +grateful Peggy. + +Mrs. Clarke attempted to begin her story. She was almost suffocated. I +never heard so heart-rending a groan as she gave, when she came to the +fatal sentence! Would you believe it, Louisa? This nephew of the worthy +Mrs. Clarke, this brother of the good Peggy, is the very highwayman who +shot Frank Henley! + +His benevolent aunt has been with him, for he is still under the +surgeon's hands; and he has confessed to her [I am angry with myself, +Louisa, to find I wonder at it] he has confessed that the brave, the +humane, the noble-minded Frank has visited him several times, and has +set the folly of his wicked pursuits in so true and so strong a light, +that the man protests, with the utmost vehemence, if he can but escape +punishment for the faults he has committed, he will sooner perish than +again be guilty of his former crimes. + +The first time Frank visited him he gave the poor wretch a guinea; and +went himself in search of another lodging for him, as well to remove +him from the knowledge of his wicked companions as to protect him from +the forty pound hunters. The man wants to escape over to the continent; +and appears to be so sincere, in his resolves of reformation, that +Frank has undertaken to furnish him with the means. + +You cannot imagine, Louisa, the heart-felt praises which the worthy +Mrs. Clarke bestowed on the youth. And Peggy said that she hoped she +should some time or another live to see him, that she might fall down +and kiss his footsteps! But, added she, with great ardor, I find indeed +there are very good men in the world! + +Still there appeared something enigmatical to me, between Frank and the +money account. I could not conceive how he should want the means +immediately to furnish such a sum as would have been sufficient for the +poor fugitive. And this again reminded me how assiduously Frank had +lately avoided every occasion of expence. + +While we were in the midst of our discourse, who should enter the room +but Frank! Never was I present at such a scene!--'Good God Almighty!' +exclaimed Peggy, the moment she saw him. 'This is he! This is the very +blessed, dear gentleman, that saved my poor Harry from those terrible +jailors.' + +'Is it possible?' cried Mrs. Clarke. + +'It is, it is he! He himself!' said the full-hearted Peggy, falling +down on her knees, and catching the flap of his coat, which she kissed +with inconceivable enthusiasm. + +Poor Frank did not know which way to look. Good deeds are so uncommon, +and so much the cause of surprise, that virtue blushes at being +detected almost as deeply as vice. I knew Frank had a noble heart; and +I own, Louisa, I was not much amazed when Peggy, with abundance of kind +expressions and a flow of simple eloquence, related the manner in which +Frank had saved her husband from the bailiffs, by paying a debt which +with costs amounted to upward of eighteen pounds. + +I did not however forbear severely to reprove myself, for having dared +so much as to imagine that a youth with such high virtues could not, in +a city like London, find opportunities of expending so small a sum as +twenty pounds in acts of benevolence. I ought at least to have supposed +the thing probable; yet it never once entered my mind. + +The thanks, blessings, and prayers of Peggy were endless. Finding him +not only to be what she knew, the man who relieved her from the most +poignant distress, but likewise the vanquisher and the saviour of her +brother, she said and protested she was sure there was not such another +angel upon earth! She was sure there was not! Frank was ashamed of and +almost offended at her incessant praise. It was so natural and so +proper for him to act as he did, that he is surprised to find it can be +matter of wonder. + +I must insist however upon seeing him reimbursed; and I persuade myself +there is one thought which will make him submit to it quietly. I have +but to remind him that the good of others requires that men, who so +well know the use of it, should never be without money. + +Adieu. I have not time to write more at present.--Yet I must, for I +ought to add, that, though I thought myself so fully convinced when I +began this letter, concerning Frank and the only right mode of acting, +doubts have several times intruded themselves upon me, while I have +been writing. I will think when the fancy is not so busy as at present; +and when I have thought do not fear my resolution. + +Ever most affectionately yours, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XIII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +It is an intolerably strange thing, Oliver, that a man cannot perform +the mere necessary duties of humanity, without being supposed almost a +prodigy. Where is the common sense, I will not say delicacy, which +should teach people that such suppositions are an insult, not only to +the person but to all mankind? I am young, I grant, and know but little +of the barbarity which it is pretended is universal. I cannot think the +accusation true. Or, if it be, I am convinced it must be the result of +some strange perversion of what may be called the natural propensities +of man. I own I have seen children wrangle for and endeavour to +purloin, or seize by force, each others apples and cherries; and this +may be a beginning to future rapacity. But I know the obvious course of +nature would be to correct, instead of to confirm, such mistakes. I +know too that there are individual instances of cruelty, and +insensibility. But these surely are the exceptions, and not the rule. + +I visited a man whose vices, that is whose errors and passions were so +violent as to be dangerous to society, and still more dangerous to +himself. Was it not my duty? I thought myself certain of convincing him +of his folly, and of bringing back a lost individual to the paths of +utility and good sense. What should I have been, had I neglected such +an opportunity? I have really no patience to think that a thing, which +it would have been a crime to have left undone, should possibly be +supposed a work of supererogation! + +I saw an industrious rising family on the brink of ruin, and in the +agonies of despair, which were the consequences of an act of virtue; +and I was not selfish enough to prefer my own whims, which I might +choose to call pleasures, to the preservation of this worthy, this +really excellent little family. And for this I am to be adored! For no +word is strong enough to express the fooleries that have been acted to +me. They were well meant? True. They were the ebullitions of virtue? I +do not deny it. But either they are an unjust satire upon the world in +general, or it is a vile world. I half suspect, indeed, it is not quite +what it ought to be. + +In addition to all this, I have been obliged to receive a sum equal to +that which I thought it my duty to bestow. This is the second time; and +perhaps thou wilt tell me I am not difficult to persuade. Read the +following dialogue, which passed between me and the most angelic of +Heaven's creatures, and judge for thyself. She is really a prodigy! I +never knew another mind of such uncommon powers! So clear, so +collected, so certain of choosing the side of truth, and so secure of +victory! + +I am an ass! I am talking Arabic to thee. I ought to have begun with +informing thee of a circumstance which is in itself odd enough. The +highwayman and Peggy. [Pshaw! The woman whose husband was arrested.] +They are not only brother and sister, but the nephew and niece of Mrs. +Clarke. Think of that, Oliver! The nephew of so worthy a woman so +audaciously wicked! Well might the distressed Peggy express anger which +I could perceive was heartfelt, though she herself at that time knew +not of this act. But to my dialogue. Listen to the voice of my charmer, +and say whether she charm not wisely! + +You have made a generous and a noble use, Frank, of the small sum which +you were so very unwilling to accept. [She treats me with the most +winning familiarity! What does she mean? Is it purposely to shew me how +much she is at her ease with me; and how impossible it is that any +thing but civility should exist between us? Or is it truly as kind as +it seems? Can it be? Who can say? Is it out of nature? Wholly? Surely, +surely not. These bursting gleams of hope beget suspense more +intolerable than all the blackness of despair itself.] + +I acted naturally, madam; and I confess it gives me some pain to find +it the subject of so much wonder. + +It is no subject of wonder to me. Your inferiors in understanding I +know would not act like you; but the weak do not give law to the +strong. I own that I have been dull enough, unjust enough, not to +suspect your true motive for refusing, as you have done lately, to +accompany us to public places. But this is a heavy penalty on you which +an act of virtue ought not to incur. + +If it be a penalty, madam, I am sure it is one which you have too much +generosity to wish to deprive me of the pleasure of paying. + +I understand your hint: but I am not so generous as you think me; for I +am determined, and you know what a positive girl I am, to share both +the penalty and the enjoyment with you. + +I beg your pardon, madam, but that cannot be. + +Oh! But, in spite of your serious and very emphatical air, it must be. + +Excuse me, madam. I am certain you have too high a sense of justice to +impose laws to which you yourself would not submit. + +Very true. Prove me that and I am answered. Nay, so confident am I of +the goodness of my cause, that I will not require you to take up this +[Laying down another bank note, of equal value with the former.] unless +I can on the contrary prove it to be nothing but false pride, or +mistake, which can induce you to refuse. You perceive, Frank, I am not +afraid of offending you by speaking the plain truth. Pray tell me, when +you saw the worthy couple whom you relieved in distress, had you +persisted in your refusal of the paltry bit of paper which I before +prevailed on you to receive, what would you have said to yourself, what +would have been your remorse, when you found yourself unable to succour +the unfortunate, merely because you had been too proud to receive that +which you wanted, and which therefore you had no right to refuse. [You +see, Oliver, she snatched my own sword from my side, with which to +dispatch me. If thou art too dull to understand me, consult my last +letter.] You were ready to protect, though at the risk of your life, +those very persons at whose favours, as they are falsely called, your +spirit is so equally ready to revolt. Perhaps in defending us you did +no more than you ought; but we cannot be ignorant how few are capable +of doing so much. And, since you are thus prompt to perform all which +the most austere morality can require, so long as it shall be apparent +to the world that your motives are not selfish, proceed a step further; +disregard the world, and every being in it; that is, disregard their +mistakes; and, satisfied that your motives are pure, defy the false +interpretations to which any right action may subject you. Neither, +while you are actually discharging the highest offices of humanity, +deny to others the right to fulfil some of the most trivial. + +I could not act otherwise than I did, on both the occasions to which +you allude, madam. I believe it is our duty always to be guided by +circumstances; but not to be guilty of an impropriety, because it is +possible such circumstances may again occur. + +You are right. We only differ concerning the meaning of the word. +Impropriety, or propriety, we shall come to presently. You have +promised your wounded penitent money, to facilitate his escape, and you +have none. + +I have some trifling useless property, madam. + +But you have a journey to make back to Wenbourne-Hill, according to +your present intentions. + +Do you imagine, madam, I cannot fast for a day? + +Oh yes! I doubt it not; for a week, Frank, to effect any great, any +laudable purpose. But I must be plain with you. It is ungenerous of you +to wish to engross all virtue and sensibility. Beside, you have duties +to perform to yourself, which are as pressing as any you owe to +society, because they are to fit you for the social duties. [Hearken to +the angel, Oliver!] It is as much my duty, at present, to afford you +the means which you want, as it was yours to visit the wounded +highwayman, or aid the distressed Peggy. You ought to suffer me to +perform my duties, both for my sake and your own. You ought not to +neglect, while you are in London, to seize on every opportunity which +can tend to enlarge your faculties. You have no common part to act; +and, that you may act it well, you should study the beings with whom +you are to associate. You must not suffer any false feelings to unfit +you for the high offices for the execution of which men like you are +formed. [Didst thou ever hear such honeyed flattery, Oliver?] Something +more--You must accompany us to France. + +Madam!--Impossible. + +Hear me, Frank. The journey will be of infinite service to you. A mind +like yours cannot visit a kingdom where the manners of the people are +so distinct as those of the French must be from the English, without +receiving great benefit. Your father is rich. + +That he denies, madam. + +To you; and you and I know why. If your delicacy should object to a +gift, I am sure it cannot with propriety to a loan. Going with us, your +expences will in fact be only casual. I can supply you with such money +as you want, which you may hereafter repay me, when I may perhaps be +glad that I have such a debtor. + +My father's property, madam, is of his own acquiring; I have no legal +claim upon it; and it would be dishonest in me to spend that, upon +speculation, which perhaps never may be mine. + +Yes; to spend it in unworthy purposes would be dishonest. But I again +recur to your duties. However, since you are so tenacious on the +subject, I will become a usurer to pacify your feelings, and you shall +pay for risk. Fifty pounds, unless you meet with more Peggies, I dare +say will bear you free. [It is twenty pounds more, thou knowest, than I +asked of my father.] You shall give me eighty whenever you have a +thousand pounds of your own. + +Madam!-- + +Well, well! You shall give me a hundred--[Very seriously] It almost +vexes me, Frank, to be refused so very slight a favour; for I can read +refusal and opposition in your eye. But, if you persist, you will give +me great pain; for you will convince me that, where your own passions +are concerned, you are not superior to the paltry prejudices by which +the rest of the world are governed. + +I own, madam, my mind has had many struggles on the subject; and I am +afraid, as you say, it has been too willing to indulge its prejudices, +and its pride. But if you seriously think, from your heart, it is my +duty to act in this case as you direct-- + +I do, seriously, solemnly, and from my heart, think it is your duty. + +Then, madam, I submit. + +Why that's my kind Frank! As noble in this instance as in every +other--I could love you for it if you would let me--[In a moment my +heart was alarmed! I could feel myself change colour! I am certain she +saw my agitation; her manner told me so, for she instantly added, with +a kind of affectionate significance which I know not how to +interpret--] I would say as much to the whole world, but that it is a +foolish world, and wants the wit to conceive things truly as they are +meant. + +She was gone in an instant, smiling, sailing, and her countenance +brightening with heavenly radiance, as she departed. + +What can this be? Her words are continually resounding in my +ears!--_She could love me, if I would let her_!--Heavens!--Love +me?--Let her?--Let her!--Oh!--_It is a foolish world_--She fears its +censures--Love me!--Is it possible?--Tell me, Oliver, is it +possible?--_It wants the wit to conceive things truly as they are +meant_--Was this forbidding me to hope; or was it blaming the world's +prejudices?--I now not--Ah! To what purpose warn the moth, unless she +could put out the light?--Oh, blasphemy!--Love me if I would let +her?--I cannot forget it, Oliver!--I cannot!--Oh! I could weep like a +child, at my own conscious debility. + +Why should I despair?--With a modern miss, a fine lady, I might; but +not with her. She has a mind superior to the world, and its mistakes. +And am I not convinced there ought to be no impediment to our union? +Why should I doubt of convincing her? She dare do all that truth and +justice can demand--And she could love me if I would let her--Is not my +despondency absurd?--Even did I know her present thoughts, and know +them to be inimical to my passion, what ought I to do? Not to desert my +own cause, if it be a just one: and, if it be the contrary, there is no +question: I will make none. Let me but be convinced of my error, and it +shall be renounced. Yes, Oliver, I dare boldly aver--it shall! But +shall I forego a right so precious, if it be mine?--No! Kingdoms shall +not tempt me!--Why is this timidity? Why does my heart palpitate? Why +with inward whispers do I murmur thoughts which I dare not speak aloud? +Why do they rise quivering to my lips, and there panting expire, +painfully struggling for birth, but in vain? Oh! How poorly do I paint +what so oppressively I feel! + +I would have thee read my whole heart. I shudder to suppose it possible +I should be a seducer. Falsely to be thought so would trouble me but +little. But tamely to yield up felicity so inestimable, in compliance +with the errors of mankind to renounce a union which might and ought to +be productive of so much good, is not this a crime?--Speak without +fear. Shew me what is right. Convince me, then blame me if I quail. + +And now, Oliver, it is probable thou wilt not see me for these three +months. Delicate as these money favours are become in the transactions +of men, contemptible as they often are in themselves, and unwilling as +I have been to subject myself to them, I am glad that she has +conquered. I would not have hesitated a moment; for obligation, if +obligation it were, to her would be heaven: but she has her own wants, +her own mode of doing good. These I was very desirous not to abridge. +But, since I must either comply or remain behind, I am glad to have +been so honourably vanquished. + +My father, I know, is willing enough I should go to France, or where I +please, so that I do not ask him for money. Indeed he told me as much. +He thinks it matters not what becomes of a fellow so useless, and so +idle, as he supposes me to be. However I have written to inform him of +my intention, and once more to remind him, though certainly in vain, of +the manner in which he ought to act. + +Ever thine, + +F. HENLEY + + +P.S. Thou art an unwilling, sluggish correspondent. I have just +received thine of the 21st. I find I am in no danger of reproof, from +thee, for the acceptance of these pecuniary obligations: but I half +suspect, from the tenor of thy letter, that thou wouldst bid me take +all that any body is willing to give. Be just to thyself and thy +friend, Oliver; shrink not from wholesome severity. Let not thy suavity +of temper, or thy partial kindness to me, sway thee to the right or the +left; lest hereafter I should make the fearful demand of my lost +principles, or at least relaxed and enfeebled, from thee. Beware of the +kindness of thy heart. + +Do not omit my most respectful and kind acknowledgments to thy father +and family. + + + + +LETTER XIV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +I have had a strong contest, my dear, with our favourite youth, to +overcome what I believe I have convinced him is prejudice; and I hope +he is cured of false delicacy, for the future. He is to go with us to +France, and is no longer under the necessity of abstaining from +innocent and instructive amusements, because he is possessed of +sensibility and a high respect for virtue. But he had no sooner +accepted this supply than away he was gone to his convert. This I +suspected. For which reason I had previously dispatched Mrs. Clarke to +visit her nephew. The good woman could not be prevailed on to receive +any money for his relief; urging that she was very capable of supplying +him herself. That being so, I did not choose violently to contest the +matter with her; as I do not wish to encourage the most distant +approaches to a spirit of avarice. I only told her it would be unjust +should she ever want money, for useful and virtuous purposes, if she +did not apply to me: and she with much good sense answered she thought +as I did, and would certainly act accordingly. She is a very worthy +woman. + +She was with her nephew when Frank came in; and the scene, as described +by her, was affecting. The poor culprit had been repeating all his +obligations to the generous Frank, praising his bravery, and dwelling, +with a degree of conviction which gave Mrs. Clarke great pleasure, on +the effects of goodness; since it could render a man so undaunted, so +forgiving, so humane, and so much as he said like a saint. You know, my +dear, that saint, in the language of such people, does not mean an +impostor, who pretends to carry burning coals in his hands, drive rusty +nails into his legs, adore a morsel of rotten wood, or decayed bone, +and pretend to work miracles, or preach exclusive doctrines of faith +and salvation. A saint with them is a person more perfect, in the +discharge of the highest moral duties, than they believe any other +earthly being to be. Let us accept their definition, and enroll the +name of Frank Henley in our calendar. + +Frank was disappointed, and in some measure displeased, that any person +should offer his reformed friend, as from the best of motives he called +him, money but himself; and the reason he gave was not without its +force. This is a memorable epocha in the life of a mistaken man, said +he; and no means, which can move his mind to a better performance of +his duties than he has hitherto attempted, should be left untried. It +is but natural that he should think more of me than of most other +persons: ['I can think of no one else!' Exclaimed the poor fellow, with +enthusiasm.] and, the more cause he shall have to remember me with +affection, the more weight will the reasons have with him which I have +urged. + +The culprit acknowledged that, from ill advice, vicious example, and +violent passions, he had become very wicked. But, said he, I must be +wicked indeed if I could ever forget what this gentleman has said, and +done, to save my family from shame and ruin, and me from destruction +and death. + +There is the greater reason to hope, because Mrs. Clarke says that he +has been what is called well educated, his station in life considered: +and indeed of this I imagine she herself had taken care. + +Peggy came in, and by her excess of gratitude, and which is better of +admiration for her hero, she drove the over delicate Frank away. This +is one of his defects, for which we must endeavour to find a remedy. +Men are not exposed to the fulsome praise which we unmarried females +are calmly obliged to hear, or be continually at war; or Frank would be +more patient. Indeed he ought to be; because, in this instance, the +praises he receives are the effusions of persons who had never before +seen virtue exert herself with so much ardour. + +Though the nephew be not an old or hardened offender, he has committed +some depredations of the consequences of which, were they proved upon +him, he himself is ignorant. His accomplice has discovered his retreat; +another more private lodging has therefore been taken for him, to which +he is to remove with all possible caution. And when he is sufficiently +recovered, which Mrs. Clarke tells me will be soon, he is then to +depart for the continent and work at his trade, which is that of a +cabinet-maker. English workmen are in high esteem abroad, and he will +easily find employment. He is more than reconciled to labour, he is +eager to begin; and, as it appears, does not want activity of mind; of +which the dangerous expedients to which he resorted are some proof. + +So much for the history of a highwayman; which I think is at least as +deserving of remembrance as that of many other depredators. + +I have been making some efforts to decide the question, not of love, +but, of duty. Love must not be permitted, till duty shall be known. I +have not satisfied myself so well as I could wish, yet my former +reasons seem invincible. Ought my father and my family to be offended? +Ought I to set an example that might be pernicious? Is it most probable +that by opposing I should correct or increase the world's mistakes? The +path before me is direct and plain; ought I to deviate? + +In vain I fear should I plead his extraordinary merit. Would the plea +remove the load of affliction with which I should overwhelm those who +love me best? At present they think well, nay highly of me. I sometimes +have the power to influence them to good. What power shall I have when +they imagine I have disgraced both myself and them? + +Who ever saw those treated with esteem who are themselves supposed to +be the slaves of passion? And could the world possibly be persuaded +that a marriage between me and the son of my father's steward could +ever originate, on my part, in honourable motives? + +Ought I to forget the influence of example? Where is the young lady, +being desirous to marry an adventurer, or one whose mind might be as +mean as his origin, who would not suppose her favourite more than the +equal of Frank? For is not the power of discrimination lost, when the +passions are indulged? And ought my name to be cited? Ought they to be +encouraged by any act of mine? + +Yet the opposing arguments are far from feeble. His feelings are too +strong to be concealed. Perhaps the only weakness I can think him +capable of is that of loving me. For if love be contradictory to +reason, it is a weakness; but should he answer that love and reason are +in this instance united, we must come to proofs. That he loves is too +visible to admit of doubt. I have seen the word trembling as it were on +his tongue. I am almost certain that a silly thing which I said, with a +very different intention, would have produced an avowal of his passion, +had I not added something to prevent it, and hurried away. + +Well then! Am I certain I am guilty of no injustice to him? And why +ought I not to be as just to him as to any other being on earth? Who +would be more just to me? Who would be more tender, more faithful, more +affectionate? + +I know not whether I ought to shrink from the vanity which seems +annexed to the idea, for I know not whether it be vanity, but I cannot +sometimes help asking myself whether the good that might result from +the union of two strong minds, mutually determined to exert their +powers for the welfare of society, be not a reason superior even to all +those I have enumerated. + +If this be so, and if our minds really possess the strength which I am +so ready to suppose, I then know not what answer to give. I reject the +affectation of under estimating myself, purposely that I may be called +a modest humble young lady. Humility I am persuaded, though not so +common, is as much a vice as pride. But, while avoiding one extreme, I +must take care not to be guilty of another. The question is +embarrassing; but I must not by delay suffer embarrassment to increase. + +With respect to your brother, I can at present conclude nothing, and +can conjecture but little. The idea which has oftenest occurred, and +which I have before mentioned, is the infinite pleasure of seeing an +active mind in the full possession of its powers; and of being +instrumental in restoring that which mistake may have injured, or in +part destroyed. It seems a duty pointed out to me; attended perhaps +with difficulty, and it may be with danger; but these increase its +force. And if so, here is another argument to add to the heaviest +scale. + +Yes. It must be thus. The more I examine, and while I am writing +perhaps I examine the best, the more I am confirmed in my former +decision. + +Pity for Frank ought not to be listened to. It is always a false +motive, unless supported by justice. Frank will never condescend to +endeavour to incite compassion; it is not in his character. He will +rather assert his claims, for so he ought. I do not mean that a +complaint will never escape him. The best of us are not always so +perfectly master of our thoughts as never to be inconsistent. But his +system will not be to win that by intercession which he could not +obtain by fair and honourable barter. The moment I have entirely +satisfied and convinced myself, I have no doubt of inducing him to +behave as nobly on this as he has done on every other trying occasion. + +And now, my dear Louisa, for the present farewel. I do not suppose I +shall write again, except a line to inform you of our safe arrival +after having crossed the channel, till we come to Paris. I expect to be +amused by the journey. Though I cannot but own I think that, as far as +amusement was concerned, the good ladies under the reign of the Tudors, +who travelled twenty miles a day, on a strong horse and a pillion, that +is when summer made the roads passable, had much better opportunities +for observation than we, who, shut up in our carriages, with blinds to +keep out the dust, gallop further in two days and two nights than they +could do in a month. This hasty travelling, when haste is necessary, is +a great convenience. But nothing, except the inordinate ardour of the +mind to enjoy, could induce people on a journey of pleasure to hurry, +as they do, through villages, towns, and counties, pass unnoticed the +most magnificent buildings, and the most delightful prospects that +forests, rivers, and mountains can afford, and wilfully exclude +themselves from all the riches of nature. To look about us, while thus +surrounded, seems to be a very natural wish. And if so, a portable +closet, or rather a flying watch-box, is but a blundering contrivance. + +You know your Anna: her busy brain will be meddling. And perhaps she +trusts too much to the pardoning affection of friendship. + +Once again, adieu. + +Yours ever and ever, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XV + +_Frank Henley to Abimelech Henley_ + +Sir, + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +That I may not appear to neglect any filial duty, all of which it has +been my most earnest wish to fulfil, I write to inform you that, at the +request of the family, I am preparing to accompany Sir Arthur to +France. From our last conversation I understood you had no objection to +the journey, except that of furnishing me with money; for it was your +pleasure to remind me that a man so idle, as you suppose I am, may be +or go any where, without the world suffering the least loss. I own, did +I imagine the same of myself, it would make me wretched indeed. + +You thought proper, sir, to refuse me the small sum which I requested +of you for this purpose. I do not wish to wrest what you are unwilling +to give. You understand your own reasonings best; but to me they appear +to be either erroneous or incomprehensible. I wished to explain to you +what my plan of life was, but you refused to hear me. I had no sooner +said that I thought it my duty to study how I could best serve society, +than you angrily told me I ought first to think how I could best serve +myself. From a recollection of the past, I am convinced this is a point +on which we shall never have the same opinion. For this I am sincerely +sorry, but as I hope not to blame. + +Suffer me however once more to repeat, sir, that though my young lady +has kindly offered to furnish me with money, I still think it wrong +that you should permit me to accept her offer; having as I am well +convinced the means to supply me liberally yourself. I assure you, sir, +I would forbear to go, or to lay myself under the necessity of asking +you for money, were I not fully persuaded of its propriety. In order to +perform my duty in the world, I ought to understand its inhabitants, +its manners, and principally its laws, with the effects which the +different legislation of different countries has produced. I believe +this to be the highest and most useful kind of knowledge. + +Could I fortunately induce you to think as I do, you certainly would +not refuse my request. Thirty pounds to you would be but a trifle. But +from my late failure I have so little hope, that I rather write to +execute a duty, than with any expectation of success. + +I submit this to your consideration, and have the greatest desire to +prove myself your dutiful and affectionate son, + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XVI + +_Abimelech Henley to Frank Henley_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Here's a hippistle! Here's tantarums! Here's palaver! Want to pick my +pocket? Rob me? And so an please ee he's my dutyfool and fekshinait +son! Duty fool, indeed? I say fool--Fool enough! And yet empty enough +God he knoweth! You peery? You a lurcher? You know how to make your 3 +farthins shine, and turn your groats into guineas?--Why you're a noodl! +A green horn! A queezee quaumee pick thank pump kin! A fine younk lady +is willin to come down with the kole, and the hulver headed hulk wants +to raise the wind on his own father! You face the philistins! Why they +will bite the nose off a your face! + +Thirty pounds too! The mercy be good unto me! Me thirty pounds! Where +must I get thirty pounds! Does the joult head think I coin? Would he +have me go on the highway? Who ever giv'd me thirty pounds? Marry come +up! Thirty pounds? Why I came to Wenbourne-Hill with thrums immee +pouch. Not a brass farthin more. And now show me the he or the +hurr--Shiner for shiner--Hool a cry hold first?--Thos as to the matter +of that, younker, why that's a nether here nor there; that's a nothink +to you dolt. I never axt you for nothink. Who begottee and sentee into +the world but I? Who found ee in bub and grub but I? Didn'tee run about +as ragged as any colt o' the common, and a didn't I find duddz for ee? +And what diddee ever do for me? Diddee ever addle half an ounce in your +life without being well ribb rostit? Tongue pad me indeed! Ferrit and +flickur at me! Rite your hippistles and gospels! I a butturd my +parsnips finely! Am I a to be hufft and snufft o' this here manner, by +a sir jimmee jingle brains of my own feedin and breedin? Am I to be +ramshaklt out of the super nakullums in spite o' my teeth? Yea and go +softly! I crack the nut and you eat the kernel! + +I tellee once again you've an addle pate o' your own! Go to France to +learn to dance, to be sure! Better stay at home and learn to +transmogrify a few kink's picters into your pocket. No marry come +fairly! Squire Nincompoop! He would not a sifflicate Sir Arthur, and +advise him to stay at home, and so keep the rhino for the roast meat! +He would not a take his cue, a dunder pate! A doesn't a know so much as +his a, b, c! A hasn't so much as a single glimm of the omnum gathrum in +his noddl! And pretends to hektur and doktur me! Shave a cow's tail and +a goat's chin, an you want hair. + +And then again what did I say to ee about missee? What did I say? +Didn't I as good as tellee witch way she cast a sheepz i? That indeed +would a be summut! An you will jig your heels amunk the jerry cum +poopz, you might a then dance to some tune. I a warruntee I a got all a +my i teeth imme head. What doesn't I know witch way the wind sets when +I sees the chimblee smoke? To be sure I duz; as well with a wench as a +weather-cock! Didn't I tellee y'ad a more then one foot i'the stirrup? +She didn't a like to leave her jack in a bandbox behind her; and so +missee forsooth forgot her tom-tit, and master my jerry whissle an +please you galloped after with it. And then with a whoop he must amble +to Lunnun; and then with a halloo he must caper to France! She'll +deposit the rhino; yet Nicodemus has a no notion of a what she'd be at! +If you've a no wit o' your own, learn a little of folks that have some +to spare. You'll never a be worth a bawbee o' your own savin. I tellee +that. And ast for what's mine why it's my own. So take me ritely, now +is your time to look about ee. Then indeed! If so, why so be it; yea ay +and amen, a God's name, say I. The fool a held his mouth open, and a +down a droppt the plumb. + +Not after all that it would a be any sitch a mighty mirakkillus catch +nether, as I shall manage matters mayhap. But that's a nether here nor +there. And so you know my mind. Take it or leave it or let it alone. +It's all a won to I. Thos and I gives all this here good advice for +nothink at all, what do I get by it? Give me but the wide world and one +and 20, with 5 farthins ten fingurs and a tongue, and a turn me adrift +to morrow; I'de a work my way: I'de a fear nether wind nor weather. For +why? I'de a give any man a peck of sweet words for a pint of honey. +What! Shall I let the lock rustee for a want of a little oilin? Haven't +I a told ee often and often, that a glib tongue, smooth and softly, +always with the grain, is worth a kink's kinkddum? + +So mind a what ee be at. Play your cards out kuninlee; and then, why if +so be as thinks should turn up trumps, why we shall see. That is, take +me ritely; and I has a no notion that ee should take it into your nobb +noddl that I means to suppose that I shall come down with the dust. No +forsooth! For what and for why and for wherefore? We shall see--Why ay +to be sure!--But what shall we see? Why we shall see how generous and +how kappaishus my younker will be, to his poor old father: we shall see +that. + +Not but if the ready be wantin, plump do you see me, down on the nail +head, and if Sir Arthur should a say as it must be so, why so. Mayhap +we--But I tell ee again and again that's a nether here nor there. +Besides leave me to hummdudgin Sir Arthur. Mind you your hitts with +missee, I'll a foistee fubb he. + +And so now show your affection for all this my lovin kindness and +mercy; and crown my latter days with peace and joy, witch nothink can +xseed but the joys of heaven in his glory everlastin, witch is a +preparin for me and for all kristshun soles, glory and onnur and power +and praise and thanks givin, world without end, for ever and ever, God +be good unto us, and grant us his salvation; amen, and it be his holy +will. + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XVII + +_The Honourable Mrs. Clifton to her son, Coke Clifton_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +I Direct this letter to you, my dear son, at Paris; where it will +either find you, or lie at the banker's till your arrival. A packet +accompanies it, which contains the accounts of your late uncle with +Monsieur de Chateauneuf; by which it appears there is a considerable +balance in his favour, which as you know by will devolves to me. + +I hope, when you have settled this business, you will be disposed to +return to England; and that I shall once again have the happiness to +see you before I die. Do not imagine I speak of death to attract any +false pity. But my state of health obliges me to consider this serious +event as at no great distance; though I do not think myself in +immediate danger. + +Sir Arthur St. Ives and his lovely daughter will soon be in Paris. They +requested letters from me; and, among others, I thought I could not +recommend them to any one with more propriety than to my son. There is +an intimacy between our families at present; which was first occasioned +by an affection which your sister Louisa and Anna St. Ives conceived +for each other, and which has continually increased, very much indeed +to my satisfaction. For, before I saw this young lady, I never met with +one whom I thought deserving of the friendship of your sister, Louisa; +whose strength of mind, if I do not mistake, is very extraordinary for +her years. Yet even I, her mother, and liable enough to be partial, +have sometimes thought she must cede the palm to her friend, the +charming Anna. + +My reason for writing thus is that you may be guilty of no mistakes of +character, which indeed I think is very unlikely, and that you will +shew Sir Arthur all possible respect, as well as his daughter, in +justice to yourself, and as the friends of the family. Your sister +writes under the same cover; and I cannot doubt, whenever you read her +letters, but that you must receive very great satisfaction, to find you +have such a sister. + +I scarcely need tell you, Clifton, that though you have resided but +little with me, I feel all the fond affection of a parent; that I am +earnestly desirous to hear of your happiness, and to promote it; and +that no pleasure which the world could afford to me, personally, would +equal that of seeing you become a good and great man. You have studied; +you have travelled; you have read both men and books; every advantage +which the most anxious desire to form your mind could procure has been +yours. I own that a mother's fondness forms great expectations of you; +which, when you read this, be your faculties strong or weak, you will +very probably say you are capable of more than fulfilling. The feeble, +hearing their worth or talents questioned, are too apt to swell and +assume; and I have heard it said that the strong are too intimately +acquainted with themselves to harbour doubt. I believe it ought to be +so. I believe it to be better that we should act boldly, and bring full +conviction upon ourselves when mistaken, than that a timid spirit +should render us too cautious to do either good or harm. I would not +preach; neither indeed at present could I. A thousand ideas seemed +crowding upon my mind; but they have expelled each other as quickly as +they came, and I scarcely know what to add. My head-achs disqualify me +for long or consistent thinking; and nothing I believe but habit keeps +me from being half an idiot. + +One thing however I cannot forget; which is, that I am your mother, +Clifton; and that I have the most ardent and unremitting desire to see +you a virtuous and a happy man. In which hope my blessing and love are +most sincerely yours. + +M. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XVIII + +_Louisa Clifton to Her Brother, Coke Clifton_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +It is long, my dear brother, since I received a letter from you; and +still longer since I had the pleasure to see you. How many rivers, +seas, valleys, and mountains have you traversed, since that time! What +various nations, what numerous opposite and characteristic countenances +have you beheld! From all and each of them I hope you have learned +something. I hope the succession of objects has not been so quick as to +leave vacuity in the mind. + +My propensity to moralize used formerly [And our formerlies you know, +brother, are not of any long duration.] to tease and half put you out +of temper. Indulge me once more in hoping it will not do so at present; +for I believe I am more prone to this habit than ever. What can I say +to my brother? Shall I tattle to him the scandal of the village, were I +mistress of it? Shall I describe to him the fashion of a new cap; or +the charms of a dress that has lately travelled from Persia to Paris, +from Paris to London, and from London to Rose-Bank? Or shall I recount +the hopes and fears of a sister; who has sometimes the temerity to +think; who would be so unfashionable as to love her brother, not for +the cut of his coat, not for the French or Italian phrases with which +he might interlard his discourse, not for any recital of the delight +which foreign ladies took in him and which he took in foreign ladies, +not for a loud tongue and a prodigious lack of wit, not for any of the +antics or impertinences which I have too frequently remarked in young +men of fashion, but for something directly the reverse of all these: +for well-digested principles, an ardent desire of truth, incessant +struggles to shake off prejudices; for emanations of soul, bursts of +thought, and flashes of genius. For such a brother, oh how eager would +be my arms, how open my heart! + +Do not think, my dear Clifton, I am unjust enough to mean any thing +personal; to satirize what I can scarcely be said to have seen, or to +condemn unheard. No. Your faculties were always lively. You have seen +much, must have learned much, and why may I not suppose you are become +all that a sister's heart can desire? Pardon me if I expect too much. +Do we not all admire and seek after excellence? When we are told such a +person is a man of genius, do we not wish to enquire into the fact? +And, if true, are we not desirous of making him our intimate? And do +not the ties of blood doubly enforce such wishes, in a brother's +behalf? From what you were, I have no doubt but that you are become an +accomplished man. But I hope you are also become something much better. +I hope that, by the exertion of your talents, acquirements, and genius, +I shall see you the friend of man, and the true citizen of the world. + +If you are all that I hope, I think you will not be offended with these +sisterly effusions. If you are not, or but in part, you may imagine me +vain and impertinent. But still I should suppose you will forgive me, +because you are so seldom troubled with such grave epistles; and one +now and then, if not intolerably long, may be endured from an elder +sister. + +Yet why do I say elder? Neither age nor station have any just claim; +for there can be none, except the claims of truth and reason; against +which there is no appeal. I am eighteen months older than my brother, +and up rises the claim of eldership! Such are the habits, the +prejudices we have to counteract. + +My dear mamma has mentioned Sir Arthur St. Ives, in her letter, and his +lovely daughter, Anna; more lovely in mind even than in form, and of +the latter a single glance will enable you to judge. I need not request +you to be attentive and civil to her, for it is impossible you should +be otherwise. Your own gratification will induce you to shew her the +public places, and render her every service in your power; which will +be more than overpaid by associating with her; for it is indeed a +delight to be in her company. For grace and beauty of person, she has +no equal; and still less can she be equalled, by any person of her age, +for the endowments of wit and understanding. I am half angry with +myself for pretending to recommend her; when, as you will see, she can +so much more effectually recommend herself. + +I have nothing to add except to say that, when my dear brother has a +moment's leisure, I shall be glad to hear from him; and that I remain +his very affectionate sister, + +L. CLIFTON + + +P.S. On recollection, I am convinced it is a false fear which has +prevented me from mentioning another person, very eminently deserving +of esteem and respect; a fear of doing harm where I meant to do good. +We ought to do our duty, and risk the consequences. The absurd pride of +ancestry occasions many of our young gentlemen to treat those whom they +deem their inferiors by birth with haughtiness, and often with +something worse; forgetting that by this means they immediately cut +themselves off as it were from society: for, by contemning those who +are a supposed step below them, they encourage and incur contempt from +the next immediately above them. This is in some measure the practice: +and, were it true that birth is any merit, it would be a practice to +which we ought to pay a still more strict attention. The young +gentleman however whom I mean to recommend, for his great and peculiar +worth, is Mr. Frank Henley, the son of a person who is gardener and +steward to Sir Arthur; or rather what the people among whom you are at +present would call his _homme d'affaires_. But I must leave my friends +to speak for themselves; which they will do more efficaciously than can +be done by any words of mine. + +END OF VOLUME I + + + + +VOLUME II + + + +LETTER XIX + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax, at Venice_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite, pres le Pont Royal_ + +I write, Fairfax, according to promise, to inform you that I have been +a fortnight in France, and four days in this city. The tract of country +over which I have passed, within these three months, is considerable. +From Naples to Rome; from Rome to Florence; from Florence to Venice, +where we spent our carnival; from Venice to Modena, Parma, and Genoa; +from thence to Turin; from Turin to Geneva; then, turning to the left, +to Lyons; and from Lyons to Paris. Objects have passed before me in +such a rapid succession, that the time I have spent abroad, though not +more than a year and a half, appears something like a life. The sight +of the proud Alps, which boldly look eternity in the face, imparts a +sensation of length of time wholly inadequate to the few hours that are +employed in passing them. The labour up is a kind of age; and the swift +descent is like falling from the clouds, once more to become an +inhabitant of earth. + +Here at Paris I half fancy myself at home. And yet, to timid people who +have never beheld the ocean, and who are informed that seas divide +France and England, Paris appears to be at an unattainable distance. +Every thing is relative in this world; great or small near or distant +only by comparison. The traveller who should have passed the deserts, +and suffered all the perils all the emotions of a journey from Bengal +by land, would think himself much nearer home, at Naples, than I do, +coming from Naples, at Paris: and those who have sailed round the world +seem satisfied that their labour is within a hair's breadth of being at +an end, when they arrive, on their return, at the Cape of Good Hope. + +You, Fairfax, have frequently asked me to give you accounts of this and +that place, of the things I have seen, and of the observations I have +made. But I have more frequently put the same kind of questions to +myself, and never yet could return a satisfactory answer. I have seen +people whose manners are so different from those of my own country, +that I have seemed to act with them from a kind of conviction of their +being of another species. Yet a moment's consideration undeceives me: I +find them to be mere men. Men of different habits, indeed, but actuated +by the same passions, the same desire of self-gratification. Yes, +Fairfax, the sun moon and stars make their appearance, in Italy, as +regularly as in England; nay much more so, for there is not a tenth +part of the intervening clouds. + +When molested by their dirt, their vermin, their beggars, their +priests, and their prejudices, how often have I looked at them with +contempt! The uncleanliness that results from heat and indolence, the +obsequious slavishness of the common people, contrasted with their +loquacious impertinence, the sensuality of their hosts of monks, nay +the gluttony even of their begging friars, their ignorant adoration of +the rags and rotten wood which they themselves dress up, the protection +afforded to the most atrocious criminals if they can but escape to a +mass of stone which they call sacred, the little horror in which they +hold murder, the promptness with which they assassinate for affronts +which they want the spirit to resent, their gross buffooneries +religious and theatrical, the ridiculous tales told to the vulgar by +their preachers, and the improbable farces which are the delight of the +gentle and the simple, all these, and many other things of a similar +nature, seem to degrade them below rational creatures. + +Yet reverse the picture, and they appear rather to be demi-gods than +men! Listen to their music! Behold their paintings! Examine their +palaces, their basins of porphyry, urns and vases of Numidian marble, +catacombs, and subterranean cities; their sculptured heroes, triumphal +arches, and amphitheatres in which a nation might assemble; their +Corinthian columns hewn from the rocks of Egypt, and obelisks of +granite transported by some strange but forgotten means from +Alexandria; the simplicity the grandeur and beauty of their temples and +churches; the vast fruitfulness of their lands, their rich vineyards, +teeming fields, and early harvests; the mingled sublime and beautiful +over the face of nature in this country, which is sheltered from +invaders by mountains and seas, so as by a small degree of art to +render it impregnable; their desolating earthquakes, which yet seem but +to renovate fertility; their volcanos, sending forth volumes of flame +and rivers of fire, and overwhelming cities which though they have +buried they have not utterly destroyed; these and a thousand other +particulars, which I can neither enumerate nor remember, apparently +speak them a race the most favoured of heaven, and announce Italy to be +a country for whose embellishment and renown earth and heaven, men and +gods have for ages contended. + +The recollection of these things appears to be more vivid, and to give +me greater pleasure than I believe the sight of them afforded. Perhaps +it is my temper. Impatient of delay, I had scarcely glanced at one +object before I was eager to hunt for another. The tediousness of the +Ciceroni was to me intolerable. What cannot instantly be comprehended I +can scarcely persuade myself to think worthy of the trouble of enquiry. +I love to enjoy; and, if enjoyment do not come to me, I must fly to +seek it, and hasten from object to object till it be overtaken. + +Intellectual pleasures delight me, when they are quick, certain, and +easily obtained. I leave those which I am told arise from patient +study, length of time, and severe application, to the fools who think +time given to be so wasted. Roses grow for me to gather: rivers roll +for me to lave in. Let the slave dig the mine, but for me let the +diamond sparkle. Let the lamb, the dove, and the life-loving eel writhe +and die; it shall not disturb me, while I enjoy the viands. The five +senses are my deities; to them I pay worship and adoration, and never +yet have I been slack in the performance of my duty. + +What! Shall we exist but for a few years, and of those shall there be +but a few hours as it were of youth, joy, and pleasure, and shall we +let them slip? Shall we cast away a good that never can return; and +seek for pain, which is itself in so much haste to seek for us? Away +with such folly! The opposite system be mine. + +The voluptuous Italian, as wise in this as in other arts, knows better. +He lives for the moment, and takes care not to let the moment slip. His +very beggars, basking in the sun, will not remove, so long as hunger +will suffer them to enjoy the happiness of being idle. Who so perfectly +understand the luxury of indolence as the Lazaroni of Naples? + +The Italian, indeed, seems to exert all the craft for which he is so +famous, to accomplish this sole purpose of enjoyment. He marries a +wife, and the handsomest he can procure; that, when the ardour of +desire is satiated, she may fleece some gallant, who shall pay for his +pleasures elsewhere. And, as variety is the object of all, gallant +succeeds to gallant, while he himself flies from mistress to mistress, +and thus an equal barter is maintained. + +This office of Cicisbeo is however an intolerably expensive one; +especially to our countrymen. The Signora is so inventive in her +faculties, there are so many trinkets which she dies to possess, and +her wants, real and artificial, are so numerous, that the purse is +never quiet in the pocket. And every Englishman is supposed to be +furnished with the purse of Fortunatus. + +The worst because the most dangerous part of the business is, the ugly +and the old think themselves entitled to be as amorous as the young and +beautiful; and a tall fellow, with a little fresh blood in his veins, +is sure to have no peace for them. Prithee, Fairfax, tell me how the +Contessa behaved, when she found I had escaped from her amorous +pursuit. She began to make me uneasy; and I almost thought it was as +necessary for me to have a taster as any tyrant in Christendom. Poison +and the stiletto disturbed my dreams; for there were not only she, but +two or three more, who seemed determined to take no denial. I +congratulated myself, as I was rolling down mount Cenis, to think that +I was at length actually safe, and that the damned black-looking, +hook-nosed, scowling fellow from Bergamo, whom I had so often remarked +dogging me, was no longer at my heels. + +But I have now bidden adieu to the _Cassini_, the _Carnivali_, and the +_Donne_; and soon shall see what provision this land of France affords. +For the short time that I have been here, I have no occasion to +complain of my reception. I do not know why, Fairfax, but we Englishmen +seem to be in tolerably good repute every where, with the ladies. Well, +well, pretty dears, they shall find me very much at their service. I +should be sorry to bring disgrace upon my nation, Fairfax. Would not +you? + +I expect to find you a punctual correspondent. Fail not to let me know, +when, weary of being a _Cavaliere servente_, you shall leave the proud +banks of the Adriatic, and the wanton Venice, for some other abode; +that our letters may never miss their aim. I will relate every thing +that happens to me, when it can either afford you amusement to read, or +me satisfaction to write. You have too much honour and honesty not to +do the same. Or, if not, I will try what a threat can do: therefore +remember that, unless you fulfil the terms of our agreement, and give +me an account of all your rogueries, adventures, successes, and +hair-breadth escapes, I will choose some other more punctual and more +entertaining correspondent. + +Observe further, and let that be a spur to your industry, I have a tale +in petto; a whimsical adventure which happened to me yesterday evening; +but which I shall forbear to regale you with, for three substantial +reasons: first because it is my good pleasure; secondly because I like +it; and lastly such is my sovereign will. Nay, if that be all, I can +give you three more: first because I am almost at the end of my paper; +next because I may want a good subject when I write again; and finally +because the post is a sturdy unceremonious fellow, and does not think +proper to wait my leisure. + +So farewell; and believe me to be very sincerely yours, + +COKE CLIFTON + + +P.S. I have this moment received information that Sir Arthur St. Ives +and his daughter arrived yesterday in the afternoon at Paris. I have +heard that the daughter is the most beautiful woman in England, and +that her wit is even superior to her beauty. I am very glad of the +accident, for I have a great desire to see her. My mother's last was +partly a letter of business, but chiefly of recommendation, +particularly of the young lady: and in it was enclosed one from my +sister, Louisa, which gives a very high character of her friend, Anna +St. Ives. They have become acquainted since I have been abroad. The +letter is loaded with advice to me, at which as you may well think I +laugh. These girls, tied to their mother's apron-strings, pretend to +advise a man who has seen the world! But vanity and conceit are strange +propensities, that totally blind the eyes of their possessors. I have +lived but little at home, but I always thought the young lady a forward +imperious miss; yet I never before knew her so much on the stilts. I +expect she will soon put on boots and buckskin, and horsewhip her +fellows herself; for she improves apace. + +Once more farewell. + + + + +LETTER XX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_, + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +After abundance of jolting in carriages, sea sickness, and such-like +trifling accidents, incidental to us travellers, here we are at last, +dear Louisa. My very first demand has been for pen ink and paper, to +inform my kind friend of our safe arrival: though I am so giddy, after +this post haste four day's hurry, that I scarcely can write a straight +line. Neither do I know whether I have any thing to say; though I +seemed to myself to have acquired an additional stock of ideas, at the +very moment that I first beheld Calais and the coast of France. + +What is there, my dear, in the human mind, that induces us to think +every thing which is unusual is little less than absurd? Is it +prejudice, is it vanity, or is it a short and imperfect view; a want of +discrimination? I could have laughed, but that I had some latent sense +of my own folly, at the sight of a dozen French men and women, and two +or three loitering monks, whom curiosity had drawn together upon the +pier-head, to see us come into port. And what was my incitement to +laughter?--It was the different cut of a coat. It was a silk bag, in +which the hair was tied, an old sword, and a dangling pair of ruffles; +which none of them suited with the poverty of the dress, and meagre +appearance, of a person who seemed to strut and value himself upon such +marks of distinction. + +Sterne was in my pocket, and his gentle spirit was present to my mind. +Perhaps the person who thus excited a transient emotion of risibility +was a nobleman. For the extremes of riches and of poverty are, as I +have been informed, very frequent among the nobility of France. He +might happen to think himself a man highly unfortunate and aggrieved. +The supposition occasioned my smile to evaporate in a sigh. + +But the houses!--They were differently built!--Could that be right? +They were not so clean! That was certainly wrong. In what strange land +is the standard of propriety erected?--Then the blue and brown jackets +of the women; their undaunted manner of staring; their want of hats, +and stays; the slovenly look of slippers not drawn up at the heel; the +clumsy wooden shoes of some, and the bare feet of others; nay their +readiness to laugh at the uncouth appearance of the people who were +condemning them for being ridiculous; what could all this be? But how +came I so unaccountably to forget that children and beggars sometimes +go barefoot in England; and that few people, perhaps, are more addicted +to stare and laugh at strangers than ourselves? Oh! But the French are +so polite a nation that even the common people are all well bred; and +would enter a drawing-room with more ease and grace than an English +gentleman!--Have you never heard this nonsense, Louisa? + +The character of nations, or rather of mind, is apparent in trifles. +Granted. Let us turn our eyes back to the shores we have so lately +left: let us examine the trifles we hang about ourselves. How many of +them, which characterize and as it were stamp the nation with +absurdity, escape unobserved! We see them every day; we have adopted +and made them our own, and we should be strangely offended, should any +person take the liberty, having discovered the folly of them, to laugh +at us. + +I wrote thus far last night; but learning, on enquiry, that Tuesdays +and Fridays are foreign post days, I left off; being rather indisposed +after my journey. 'Tis only a swimming in the head, which will soon +leave me; though I find it has returned upon me occasionally all the +morning. But to my pleasing task; again let me prattle to my friend. + +The innkeepers of Calais come themselves, or send their waiters, to +watch for and invite passengers to their houses; and will not be +dismissed without difficulty. The most daring endeavour to secure +customers, by seizing on some of their trunks, or baggage. But we had +determined to go to Dessein's, and the active Frank soon made way for +us. + +I was amused with the handbill, stuck up against the walls of this inn, +or hotel, as it is called; announcing it to be the largest, the +completest, the most magnificent, with a thousand et caeteras, in the +universe; and recounting not only its numerous accommodations, but the +multifarious trades which it contained within its own walls; to all +which was added a playhouse. A playhouse it is true there was, but no +players; and as for trades, there were at least as many as we wanted. +Sir Arthur took over his own carriage; otherwise this first of inns in +the universe would not have furnished him with one, but on condition of +its being purchased. + +Sir Arthur observed it was strange that the French innkeepers should +not yet have discovered it to be their interest to keep carriages for +travellers, as in England. To which Frank Henley shrewdly answered, +that the book of post roads, in his hand, informed him government was +in reality every where the inn-keeper; and reserved to itself the +profits of posting. And the deepest thinkers, added Frank, inform us +that every thing in which governments interfere is spoiled. I remarked +to him that this principle would lead us a great way. Yes, said he, but +not too far: and, playing upon my words, added, it would lead us back +to the right way, from which we appear at present to have strayed, into +the very labyrinth of folly and blunders. + +Frank is earnestly studious of the effects of governments, and laws; +and reads the authors who have written best on such subjects with great +attention, and pleasure. He and Sir Arthur by no means agree, in +politics; and Sir Arthur has two or three times been half affronted, +that a man so young and so inferior to himself, as he supposes Frank to +be, should venture to be of a different opinion, and dispute with him; +who was once in his life too a member of parliament. I am obliged now +and then slily to remind him of the highwayman and Turnham Green. + +And now, Louisa, traveller like, could I regale you with a melancholy +narrative, relating how the fields in this country have no hedges; how +the cows are as meagre as their keepers; how wretched the huts and +their owners appear; how French postillions jump in and out of +jack-boots, with their shoes on, because they are too heavy to drag +after them; how they harness their horses with ropes; how dexterously +they crack the merciless whips with which they belabour the poor hacks +they drive; how we were obliged to pay for five of these hacks, having +only four in our carriage, and two of them frequently blind, lame, or +useless; with many other items, that might be grievous to hear, could I +but persuade myself thoroughly to pity or be angry at the whole French +nation, for not exactly resembling the English. But do they themselves +complain? Mercy on us! Complain?--Nothing is so grateful to their +hearts, as the praise of that dear country, which English travellers +are so prone to despise! + +Frank as usual has been all attention, all ardour, all anxiety, to +render our journey as pleasant as possible. His efforts have been +chiefly directed to me; my ease, my satisfaction, my enjoyment, have +been his continual care. Not that he has neglected or overlooked Sir +Arthur. He overlooks no living creature, to whom he can give aid. He +loses no opportunity of gaining the esteem and affection of high and +low, rich and poor. His delicacy never slumbers. His thirst of doing +good is never assuaged. I am young it is true, but I never before met a +youth so deserving. Think of him myself I must not; though I would give +kingdoms, if I had them, to see him completely happy. + +And now, dear Louisa, I am soon to meet your brother. Why do I seem to +recollect this with a kind of agitation? Is there rebellion in my +heart? Would it swerve from the severe dictates of duty? No. I will set +too strict a watch over its emotions. What! Does not Louisa honour me +with the title of friend, and shall I prove unworthy of her friendship? +Forbid it emulation, truth, and virtue! + +How happy should I be were your brother and Frank Henley to conceive an +immediate partiality for each other! How much too would it promote the +project I wish to execute! I have been taxing my invention to form some +little plot for this purpose, but I find it barren. I can do nothing +but determine to speak of Frank as he deserves; which surely will gain +him the love of the whole world. And for his part, I know how ready he +will be to give merit its due. + +I have more than once purposely mentioned your brother's name to Sir +Arthur, when Frank was present; in some manner to prepare and guard him +against surprise. But I could not but remark my hints had an effect +upon him that betrayed how much his heart was alarmed. He thinks too +favourably, and I fear too frequently of me. What can be done? The +wisest of us are the slaves of circumstances, and of the prejudices of +others. How many excellent qualities are met in him! And for these to +be rejected--! Alas!--We must patiently submit to the awful laws of +necessity. + +Neither is Sir Arthur without his fears and suspicions. His discourse +betrays his alarms. He cannot conceive that a love of the merits of +Frank can be distinct from all love of his person. The crime of +disobedience in children, the ruin of families by foolish and unequal +marriages, and the wretchedness which is the result of such guilty +conduct, have been hinted at more than once lately; and though not with +many words, yet with a degree of anxiety that gave me pain, for it +taught me, being suspected, half to suspect myself. + +But I must conclude: my travelling vertigo I find is not immediately to +be shaken off. I imagine that a few hours calm sleep will be my best +physician. Adieu. I shall wait, with some impatience, for a letter from +my dear Louisa. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXI + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude,_ + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +My emotions, Oliver, are too strong to permit me to narrate common +occurrences. I can only tell thee our journey is ended, that we arrived +yesterday, and that we are now at Paris. My feelings are more +tumultuous than they ought to be, and seek relief in the mild and +listening patience of friendship. + +First however I must relate a singular adventure, which happened +yesterday evening. + +After I had seen our baggage properly disposed of, curiosity led me, +though night was approaching, to walk out and take a view of the famous +facade of the Louvre. From thence I strayed, through the gardens of the +Thuilleries, to the Place de Louis XV; being delighted with the +beauties around me, but which I have not now time to describe. A little +farther are the Champs Elysees, where trees planted in quincunx afford +a tolerably agreeable retreat to the Parisians. + +It was now twilight. The idlers had retired; for I suppose, from what +followed, that it is not very safe to walk after dark, in these +environs. Ignorant of this, and not apprehensive of any danger, I had +strayed to a considerable distance among the trees, against one of +which I stood leaning, and contemplating the banks of the Seine, the +Palais Bourbon, and other surrounding objects. All was silent, except +the distant hum of the city, and the rattling of carriages, which +could but just be heard. + +Amid this calm, I was suddenly alarmed by voices in anger, and +approaching. They spoke in French, and presently became more distinct +and loud. + +Draw, sir, said one. + +_Mort de ma vie_, come along, answered the other. + +Draw, sir, I say; replied the first. I neither know who you are nor +what your intentions may be. I will go no further. Draw! + +_Sacristi_, answered his antagonist, we shall be interrupted: the guard +will be upon us in a moment. + +The first however was resolute, and in an imperious voice again bade +him draw. Their swords were instantly out, and they began to assault +each other. Thou mayst imagine, Oliver, I would not cowardly stand and +be a spectator of murder. They were not twenty paces from me. I flew; +when, to my great surprise, one of them called, in English, Keep off, +sir! Who are you? Keep off! And, his enemy having dropt his guard, he +presented his point to me. + +It was no time to hesitate. I rushed resolutely between them; holding +up my open hands above my head, to shew the Englishman, who seemed +apprehensive of a conspiracy, he had nothing to fear from me. His anger +almost overcame him: he held up his sword, as if to strike with it, and +with great haughtiness and passion again bade me begone. Have patience, +sir, answered I. Men shall not assassinate each other, if I can prevent +it. + +Let us retire, said the Frenchman: I knew we should be interrupted. + +You shall not fight. I will follow you, added I, I will call for help. + +You are a damned impertinent fellow, said the Englishman. + +Be it so; but you shall not fight, was my answer. + +The combatants, finding me so determined, put up their swords, and +mutually exchanged their address; after which they separated. So that +it is probable, Oliver, my interference has done no good. But that I +must leave to chance. I could not act otherwise. + +This incident, so immediately after my arrival, in a place so strange +to me, and coming so suddenly, made too great an impression upon me not +to tell it thee. Though I have another topic much nearer my heart; the +true state of which has been shewn me, by an event of which I will now +inform thee. + +We are lodged here in the first floor, consisting of many chambers, +each of which is a thoroughfare to the most distant. It is not ten +minutes since I was seated, and preparing to write to thee, when Anna +came to pass through the room where I was, and retire to her own +apartment. She was fatigued, I imagine, by the journey; though I +frequently fear the ardour of her mind will injure her constitution. +She walked with some difficulty, was evidently giddy, and staggered. I +was alarmed, and was rising, when she called to me faintly,--'Help me, +Frank!' + +I sprung and caught her as she was falling. I received her in my arms! +And my agitation was so violent, that it was with difficulty I could +preserve strength enough to support her, and seat her in the chair I +had quitted. + +The house to me was a kind of wilderness. I knew not where to run, yet +run I did for water. I called Laura, with a latent wish that nobody +might help her but myself; and, as it happened, nobody heard. I +returned; she recovered, thanked me, with her usual heavenly kindness, +and I conducted her to her apartment, she leaning on my arm. + +Oh! Oliver, is it wrong to feel what I feel, at the remembrance? If it +be, reprove me sternly; teach me my duty, and I will thank thee. Surely +there is something supernatural hovers over her! At least she resembles +no other mortal! Then her kindness to me, her looks, her smiles, her +actions, are all intentional benignancy. She is now but three chambers +distant from me; enjoying as I hope refreshing slumbers. Angels guard +her, and inspire her dreams. No matter for the nonsense of my words, +Oliver; thou knowest my meaning. She desired me to bid Laura not +disturb her; and here I sit, watchful of my precious charge. Grateful, +heart-soothing office! + +And now, Oliver, what am I to think? My fears would tie my tongue; but, +either I am deluded or hope brightens upon me, and I want the +self-denying resolution of silence. Yes, Oliver, I must repeat, there +is such sweetness in her countenance, when she speaks to me, such a +smile, so inviting, so affirmative, that I am incessantly flattering +myself it cannot but have a meaning. I have several times lately heard +her sigh; and once so emphatically that I think it impossible I should +be deceived. I and Sir Arthur were conversing. I was endeavouring to +shew the pernicious tendency of the prejudices of mankind, and +inadvertently touched upon the absurdity of supposing there could be +any superiority, of man over man, except that which genius and virtue +gave. Sir Arthur did not approve the doctrine, and was pettish. I +perhaps was warmed, by a latent sense of my own situation, and +exclaimed--'Oh! How many noble hearts are groaning, at this instant, +under the oppression of these prejudices! Hearts that groan, not +because they suffer, but because they are denied the power effectually +to aid their very oppressors, who exert the despotism of numbers, to +enforce claims which they themselves feel to be unjust, but which they +think it dishonourable to relinquish!'--It was then the sigh burst +forth of which I told thee. I turned and found her eyes fixed upon me. +She blushed and looked down, and then again bent them toward me. I was +heated and daring. We exchanged looks, and said--! Volumes could not +repeat how much!--But surely neither of us said any thing to the +other's disadvantage. + +Oh! The bliss to perceive myself understood and not reproved! To meet +such emanations of mind! Ecstasy is a poor word! Once more she seemed +to repeat--_She would love me if I would let her._ + +Tell me, then--Have I not reason on my side? And, if I have, will she +not listen? May she not be won? Shall I doubt of victory, fighting +under the banners of truth? Alas!--Well well-- + +My own sensations, Oliver, are so acute, and I am so fearful lest they +should lead me astray, that I could not forbear this detail--Let us +change the theme. + +Well, here we are, in France; and, wonderful to tell, France is not +England! + +I imagine it is impossible to travel through a foreign country, without +falling into certain reveries; and that each man will fashion his +dreams in part from accident, and in part according to the manner in +which he has been accustomed to ruminate. Thy most excellent father, +Oliver, early turned my mind to the consideration of forms of +government, and their effects upon the manners and morals of men. The +subject, in his estimation, is the most noble that comes under our +cognizance; and the more I think myself capable of examining, and the +more I actually do examine, the more I am a convert to his opinion. How +often has it been said of France, by various English philosophers, and +by many of its own sages, What a happy country would this be, were it +well governed! But, with equal truth, the same may be said of every +country under heaven; England itself, Oliver, in spite of our +partialities, not excepted. + +How false, how futile, how absurd is the remark that a despotic +government, under a perfect monarch, would be the state of highest +felicity! First an impossible thing is asked; and next impossible +consequences deduced. One tyrant generates a nation of tyrants. His own +mistakes communicate themselves east, west, north, and south; and what +appeared to be but a spark becomes a conflagration. + +How inconsistent are the demands and complaints of ignorance! It wishes +to tyrannize, yet exclaims against tyranny! It grasps at wealth, and +pants after power; yet clamours aloud, against the powerful and the +wealthy! It hourly starts out into all the insolence of pride; yet +hates and endeavours to spurn at the proud! + +Among the many who have a vague kind of suspicion that things might be +better, are mingled a few, who seem very desirous they should remain as +they are. These are the rich; who, having by extortion and rapine +plundered the defenceless, and heaped up choice of viands and the fat +of the land, some sufficient to feed ten, some twenty, some a hundred, +some a thousand, and others whole armies, and being themselves each +only able to eat for one, say to the hungry, who have no food--'Come! +Dance for my sport, and I will give you bread. Lick the dust off my +shoes, and you shall be indulged with a morsel of meat. Flatter me, and +you shall wear my livery. Labour for me, and I will return you a tenth +of your gain. Shed your blood in my behalf, and, while you are young +and robust, I will allow you just as much as will keep life and soul +together; when you are old, and worn out, you may rob, hang, rot, or +starve.' + +Would not any one imagine, Oliver, that this were poetry? Alas! It is +mere, literal, matter of fact. + +Yet let us not complain. Men begin to reason, and to think aloud; and +these things cannot always endure. + +I intended to have made some observations on the people, the aspect of +the country, and other trifles; I scarcely now know what: but I have +wandered into a subject so vast, so interesting, so sublime, that all +petty individual remarks sink before it. Nor will I for the present +blur the majesty of the picture, by ill-placed, mean, and discordant +objects. Therefore, farewell. + +F. HENLEY + + +P.S. Examine all I have said, and what I am going to add, relative to +myself, with severity. Mine is a state of mind in which the jealous +rigour of friendship appears to be essentially necessary. I have been +seized with I know not what apprehensions, by some hints which she has +two or three times lately repeated, concerning the brother of her dear +and worthy friend, Louisa; who, it seems, is to give us the meeting at +Paris. Is it not ominous? At least the manner in which she introduced +the subject, and spoke of him, as well as the replies of Sir Arthur, +were all of evil augury. Yet, why torment myself with imaginary +terrors? Should the brother resemble the friend--! Well! What if he +should? Would it grieve me to find another man of virtue and genius, +because it is possible my personal interest might be affected by the +discovery? No. My mind has still strength sufficient to reject, nay to +contemn, so unworthy a thought. But he may be something very different! +Love her he must: all who behold her love! The few words she has +occasionally dropped, have led me to suspect 'more was meant than met +the ear.' Whenever this chord is touched, my heart instantly becomes +tremulous; and with sensibility so painful as fully to lay open its +weakness; against which I must carefully and resolutely guard. It is +these incongruous these jarring tokens that engender doubt, and +suspense, almost insupportable. + + + + +LETTER XXII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Pans, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_, + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +The oddest and most unlucky accident imaginable, Louisa, has happened. +Your brother and Frank have unfortunately half quarrelled, without +knowing each other. I mentioned a giddiness with which I was seized; +the consequence, as I suppose, of travelling. I was obliged to retire +to my chamber; nay should have fallen as I went, but for Frank. I +desired he would tell Laura not to disturb me; and he it seems planted +himself sentinel, with a determination that neither Laura nor any other +person should approach. I am too often in his thoughts: he is wrong to +bestow so much of his time and attention on me. Sir Arthur was gone to +look about him; having first sent a note, unknown to me, to inform your +brother of our arrival; and requesting to see him, as soon as +convenient. + +Away hurried your brother, at this mal apropos interval, with Sir +Arthur's note in his pocket, to our hotel. He enquired for my father? + +He was gone out. + +For me? + +Laura answered she would call me. + +She was running with great haste, for this purpose, but was intercepted +by Frank; who, agreeably to my desire, would not suffer her to proceed. +She returned; and your brother, referring again to Sir Arthur's note, +was much surprised, and rather vexed. + +He asked by whose order she was sent back. + +She answered by the order of Mr. Frank. + +Who was Mr. Frank? + +A young gentleman; [Laura has repeated all that passed] the son of Mr. +Aby Henley. + +And who was Mr. Aby Henley? + +The steward and gardener of Sir Arthur; his head man. + +Steward and gardener? The son of a gardener a gentleman? + +Yes, sir. To be sure, sir, among thorough bred quality, though perhaps +he may be better than the best of them, he is thought no better than a +kind of a sort of a gentleman; being not so high born. + +Well, said your brother, shew me to this son of Mr. Aby; this +peremptory gentleman; or, as you call him, kind of a sort of a +gentleman! + +Laura obeyed; and she says they were quite surprised at the sight of +each other; but that I suppose to be one of the flourishes of her +fancy. Your brother, however, as I understand, desired, with some +haughtiness, that Frank would suffer the maid to pass, and inform me he +was come, agreeably to Sir Arthur's request, to pay his respects to me. +Frank resolutely refused; alleging I was not well. Not well! Said your +brother. Is not this Sir Arthur's handwriting? Yes, replied Frank; but +I assure you she is not well: and I am afraid that even our speaking +may awaken her, if she should chance to be asleep. I must therefore +request, sir, you would retire. + +The oddness of the circumstances, and the positiveness of Frank, +displeased your brother. Sir Arthur happened to return; and he went to +him, scarcely taking time for first compliments, but asking whether it +were true that I was not well. Sir Arthur was surprised: he knew +nothing of it! I had not thought a giddiness in the head worth a +complaint. Laura was again sent to tell me; and was again denied +admittance. Sir Arthur then, with your brother, came to question Frank; +who continued firm in his refusal; and when Sir Arthur and your brother +had heard that I was so dizzy as to be in danger of falling, had not he +supported me, they were satisfied. But such a meeting, between Frank +and your brother, was quite vexatious: when the very reverse too was +wished! However he is to visit us this morning; and I will then +endeavour to do justice to the worth of Frank, and remove false +impressions, which I have some reason to fear have been made. I will +pause here; but, if I find an opportunity, will write another short +letter, under the same cover, by this post: that is, should I happen to +have any thing more to say--This accident was exceedingly unlucky, and +I seem as if I felt myself to blame; especially as I am quite in +spirits this morning, and relieved from my giddy sensations. I am +sorry; very sorry: but it cannot be helped. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite, pres le Pont Royal_ + +It was well I did not tell my tale in my last, Fairfax; it would have +been spoiled. I knew it only by halves. It has ended in the most +singular combination of circumstances one could well imagine. + +You remember I told you of the arrival of Sir Arthur St. Ives, and his +daughter; I believe it was in the postscript; and that I was +immediately going to--Pshaw! I am beginning my story now at the wrong +end. It is throughout exceedingly whimsical. Listen, and let amazement +prop your open mouth. + +You must have observed the ease with which Frenchmen, though perfect +strangers to each other, fall into familiar conversation; and become as +intimate in a quarter of an hour, as if they had been acquainted their +whole lives. This is a custom which I very much approve. But, like all +other good things, it is liable to abuse. + +The other day I happened to be taking a walk on the Boulevards, it +being a church festival, purposely to see the good Parisians in all +their gaiety and glory; and a more cheerful, at least a more noisy +people, do not, I believe, exist. As I was standing to admire a waxwork +exhibition of all the famous highwaymen, and cut-throats, whose +histories are most renowned in France, and listening to the fellow at +the door, bawling--_Aux Voleurs! Aux grands Voleurs!_--Not a little +amused with the murderous looks, darkness, dungeons, chains and petty +horror which they had mimicked, a man uncommonly well-dressed, with an +elegant person and pleasing manners, came up and immediately fell into +discourse with me. I encouraged him, because he pleased me. We walked +together, and had not conversed five minutes before, without seeming to +seek an opportunity, he had informed me that he was the Marquis de +Passy, and that he had left his carriage and attendants, because he +like me took much pleasure in observing the hilarity of the holiday +citizens. He had accosted me, he said, because he had a peculiar esteem +for the English; of which nation he knew me to be, by my step and +behaviour. + +We talked some time, and though he made no deep remarks, he was very +communicative of anecdotes, which had come within his own knowledge, +that painted the manners of the nation. Among other things, he told me +it was not uncommon for valets to dress themselves in their masters +clothes, when they supposed them to be at a distance, or otherwise +engaged, assume their titles, and pass themselves upon the +_Bourgeoisie_ and foreigners for counts, dukes, or princes. It was but +this day fortnight, said he, that the Marechal de R--surprised one of +his servants in a similar disguise, and with some jocularity publicly +ordered the fellow to walk at his heels, then went to his carriage, and +commanded him, full dressed as he was, to get up behind. + +He had scarcely ended this account before another person came up, and +with an air of some authority asked him where his master was, what he +did there, and other questions. + +To all this my quidam acquaintance, with a degree of surprise that +seemed to be tempered with the most pleasing and unaffected urbanity, +replied, without being in the least disconcerted, sir, you mistake me: +but I am sure you are too much of a gentleman to mean any wilful +affront. + +Affront! Why whom do you pretend yourself to be, sir? + +Sir, I am the Marquis de Passy. + +You the Marquis de Passy?-- + +Yes, sir; I!-- + +Insolent scoundrel!-- + +No gentleman, sir, can suffer such language; and I insist upon +satisfaction.--And accordingly my champion drew his sword. His +antagonist, looking on him with ineffable contempt, answered he would +take some proper opportunity to cane him as he deserved. + +I own I was amazed. I reasoned a short time with myself, and concluded +the person was mistaken; for that it was impossible for any man to +counterfeit so much ease, or behave with so much propriety, who was not +a gentleman. I therefore thought proper to interfere, and told the +intruder that, having given an insult, he ought not to be afraid of +giving satisfaction-- + +And pray, sir, said he, who are you? + +A gentleman, sir, answered I-- + +Yes. As good a one as your companion, I suppose-- + +You know, Fairfax, it is not customary with me to suffer insolence to +triumph unchastised, and I ordered him immediately to draw. + +What, sir, in this place, said he? Follow me, if you have any valour to +spare. + +His spirit pleased me, and I followed. I know not what became of the +fellow, whose cause I had espoused; for I saw him no more. + +My antagonist led me across the rue St. Honore, to a place which I +suppose you know, called the Elysian Fields. It began to be late, and I +am told there is danger in passing the precincts of the guard. I +apprehended a conspiracy, and at last refused to proceed any farther. +Finding me obstinate he drew, but said we should be interrupted. + +He was no false prophet; for we had not made half a dozen passes before +a youth, whom from his boots and appearance I supposed to be English, +came running and vociferating--Forbear! I was not quite certain that +his appearance might not be artifice; I therefore accosted him in +English, in which language he very readily replied. He was quite a +sturdy, dauntless gentleman; for, though our swords were drawn, and +both of us sufficiently angry, he resolutely placed himself between us, +declaring we should not fight; and that, if we went farther, he would +follow. + +Nothing was to be done; and I now began to suspect the person, with +whom I had this ridiculous quarrel, to be really a gentleman. I gave +him my address, and he readily returned his; after which we parted, he +singing a French song, and I cursing the insolence of the English +youth, who seemed to disregard my anger, and to be happy that he had +prevented the spilling of blood. + +Remember that all this happened on the preceding evening, after I had +written the greatest part of my last long letter. The next morning I +finished it, and received a note from Sir Arthur St. Ives, as I +mentioned. + +As soon as I could get dressed, I hastened away; and, arriving at the +hotel, enquired for the knight? + +He was gone out. + +For his daughter? + +She had retired to her apartment. + +I sent in my name. The maid went, and returned with an answer that Mr. +Frank did not think it proper for her mistress to be disturbed. Now, +Fairfax, guess who Mr. Frank was if you can! By heaven, it was the very +individual youth who, the night before, had been so absolute in putting +an end to our duel! + +I was planet-struck! Nor was his surprise less, when he saw me, and +heard my errand and my name. + +I found my gentleman as positive in the morning as in the evening. He +was the dragon; touch the fruit who dared! Jason himself could not have +entrance there! And he was no less cool than determined. I was almost +tempted to toss him out of the window. + +However I am glad I contained myself; for, on the entrance of Sir +Arthur, we came to an explanation; and I find the young lady was really +indisposed. But, considering his mongrel birth and breeding, for he is +the son of a gardener, I really never saw a fellow give himself such +high airs. + +Sir Arthur received me with great civility. I have not yet seen the +daughter, but I expect to find her a beauty. She is the toast of the +county where her father resides. I am to be with her in half an hour; +and, as I suppose I shall be fully engaged with this and other affairs +for some days, I shall seal up my letter: you must therefore wait for +an account of her, till inclination and the full tide of events shall +induce me again to indite of great matters. + +I shall direct this, agreeably to your last, to your banker's, in +Parma. Do not fail to tell me when you shall be at Turin. + +Yours very sincerely, + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. My opponent of the Elysian Fields has just paid me a visit. He is +a man of family; seems to be of a slightly pleasant humour; and +acknowledged that what he had heard convinced him he had mistaken my +character; for which he was very ready either to cut my throat or ask +my pardon. His ease and good temper spoke much in his favour; and I +laughed, and answered, in mercy to my throat, I would accept his +apology. In consideration of which we are to cultivate an acquaintance, +and be sworn friends. + + + + +LETTER XXIV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_, + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +I return eagerly to my Louisa. Mr. Clifton, my dear, has this instant +left us. I give you joy! Yes, he is the brother of my friend! I do not +say he is her equal, though I am not quite sure that he is her +inferior. He is all animation, all life. His person is graceful, his +manners pleasing, and his mind vigorous. I can say but little from so +short an acquaintance; except that I am convinced his virtues, or his +errors, if he have any, [And who is without?] are not of the feeble +kind. They are not characterised by dull mediocrity; which, of all +qualities, is the most hopeless, and incapable. He gave his earnest +desire to see me, when he was refused by Frank, the air of a handsome +compliment; politely accusing himself of improper impatience, when he +was in expectation of what he was pleased to call an uncommon pleasure. +Though it was our first interview, he felt no restraint; but said many +very civil things naturally, and with an exceedingly good grace. + +I purposely turned the conversation on Frank, related some anecdotes of +him, and bestowed praise which was confirmed by Sir Arthur. Your +brother, whose imagination is warm and active, called him a trusty +Cerberus; and said he had a mouth to answer each of the three; meaning +Laura, himself, and Sir Arthur. Various remarks which escaped him shew +that he has a fondness for pleasant satire, and similes of humour. + +He praised Frank, after hearing our account of him; but his praise +was qualified with the word obstinacy. There was an appearance of +feeling that the gentleman ought not to have been so sternly repulsed, +by the son of a steward.--And was this his kindred equality to my +friend?--Forgive me, Louisa--It was unjust in me to say I was not +quite sure he is your inferior--However I can very seriously assure +you, he is not one of your every day folks. + +Frank came in, and your brother addressed him with good humour, but in +a tone denoting it was the gentleman to the sort of a gentleman. I own +it pleased me to observe the ease with which Frank, by his answers, +obliged Mr. Clifton to change his key. But I soon had occasion to +observe that the warmth of your brother's expressions, his eagerness to +be immediately intimate with us, and the advances which he with so +little sense of embarrassment made to me, had an effect upon Frank +which, I greatly fear, was painful. I must look to this; it is a +serious moment, and I must seriously examine, and quickly resolve. In +the mean time, your brother has kindly insisted upon devoting himself +wholly to our amusements; to attend on us, and shew us the public +buildings, gardens, paintings, and theatres; as well as to introduce us +to all his friends. + +And what must we do in return for this well-meant kindness? Must we not +endeavour to weed out those few errors, for few I hope they are, which +impoverish a mind in itself apparently fertile and of high rank?--Yes, +it instantly suggested itself to me as an indispensable act of +duty--The attempt must be made--With what obstinate warfare do men +encounter peril when money, base money is their proposed reward! And +shall we do less for mind, eternal omnipotent mind? + +He is returned. Adieu. You shall soon hear again from your + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXV + +_Coke Clifton to His Sister, Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite, pres le Pont Royal_ + +I write agreeably to your desire, sister, to thank you for all +obligations, not forgetting your advice. Not but I am excessively +obliged to you; I am upon my soul, and seriously, for having done me +the favour to bring me acquainted with your charming friend. I have +seen many women and in many countries, but I never beheld one so sweet, +so beautiful, so captivating! I had heard of her before I left England, +her fame had reached Italy, and your letters had raised my +expectations. But what were these? The accomplishments and graces of +her person, the variety, the pleasure inspiring heaven of her +countenance, the cupids that wanton in her dimples, and the delights +that swim and glisten in her eyes, are each and all exquisite beyond +imagination! + +Whatever you may think of me, Louisa, I do persuade myself I know +something of women. I have studied them at home and abroad, and have +often probed them to the soul. But I never before met with any one in +the least comparable to the divine Anna! She is so unreserved, so open, +that her soul seems to dwell upon her lips. Yet her thoughts are so +rapid, and her mind so capacious, that I am persuaded it will cost me +much longer time to know her well than any other woman with whom I ever +met. + +Having thanked you very heartily and sincerely for this favour, I shall +just say a word or two in answer to yours. And so you really think you +have some morality on hand, a little stale or so but still sound, which +you can bestow with advantage upon me? You imagine you can tell me +something I never heard before? Now have you sincerely so much vanity, +Louisa? Be frank. You acknowledged I have crossed rivers, seas, and +mountains; but you are afraid I have shut my eyes all the time! _A loud +tongue and a prodigious luck of wit! Antics and impertinences of young +men of fashion!_ Really, my dear, you are choice in your phrases! You +could not love your brother _for any recital of the delight which +foreign ladies look in him, and which he took in foreign ladies!_ But +you could be in ecstatics for a brother of your own invention. + +Do not suppose I am angry! No, no, my dear girl; I am got far above all +that! Though I cannot but laugh at this extraordinary brother, which +you are fashioning for yourself. If, when I come into your sublime +presence, I should by good luck happen to strike your fancy, why so! My +fortune will then be made! If not, sister, we must do as well as we +can. All in good time, and a God's name. Is not that tolerable +Worcestershire morality? + +I am obliged to lay down my pen with laughing at the idea of Miss +Louisa's brother, supposing him to be exactly of her modelling. I think +I see him appear before her; she seated in state, on a chair raised on +four tressels and two old doors, like a strolling actress mimicking a +queen in a barn! He dressed in black; his hair smugly curled; his face +and his shoes shining; his white handkerchief in his right hand; a +prayer book, or the morals of Epictetus in his left; _not interlarding +his discourse with French or Italian phrases,_ but ready with a good +rumbling mouthful of old Greek, which he had composed, I mean compiled, +for the purpose! Then, having advanced one leg, wiped his mouth, put +his left hand in his breeches pocket, clenched his right, and raised +his arm, he begins his learned dissertation on _well digested +principles, ardent desire of truth, incessant struggles to shake off +prejudices_, and forth are chanted, in nasal twang and tragic +recitative, his _emanations of soul, bursts of though_, and _flashes of +genius_! + +But _you would not be satirical_. Gentle, modest maiden! And surely it +becomes the tutored brother to imitate this kind forbearance. _My +faculties were always lively?_ And _I must pardon you if you expect too +much?_--Upon my soul, this is highly comic! Expect too much! And there +is danger then that I should not equal your expectations?--Prithee, my +good girl, jingle the keys of your harpsichord, and be quiet. Pore over +your fine folio receipt book, and appease your thirst after knowledge. +Satisfy your longing desire to do good, by making jellies, conserves, +and caraway cakes. Pot pippins, brew rasberry wine, and candy orange +chips. Study burns, bruises, and balsams. Distil surfeit, colic, and +wormwood water. Concoct hiera picra, rhubarb beer, and oil of charity; +and sympathize over sprains, whitloes, and broken shins. Get a charm to +cure the argue, and render yourself renowned. Spin, sew and knit. +Collect your lamentable rabble around you, dole out your charities, +listen to a full chorus of blessings, and take your seat among the +saints. + +You see, child, I can give advice as well as yourself; aye and I will +bestow it most plentifully, if you happen to feel any desire after +more. I hate to be ungrateful; you shall have no opportunity to utter +your musty maxim upon me--'That the sin of ingratitude is worse than +the sin of witchcraft.' You shall have weight for weight, measure for +measure, chicken; aye, my market woman, and a lumping pennyworth. +Brotherly for sisterly _effusions_! + +As for the right of eldership, I recollect that a dozen years ago I +envied you the prerogative; but now you are welcome to it with all my +heart. If, among your miraculous acquirements, you have any secret to +make time stand still, by which you can teach me to remain at sweet +five-and-twenty, and if you will disclose it to me, I will not only +pardon all your _impertinences_, as you so _pertinently_ call them, but +do any other thing in reason to satisfy you; except turn philosopher +and feed upon carrots! Nay I will allow you to grow as old as you +please, you shall have full enjoyment of the rights of eldership. + +In the mean time, sister, I once more thank you for bringing me +acquainted with your friend. You seem to have 'put powder in her +drink;' and I freely tell you I wish she loved me half as well as she +professes to love her immaculate Louisa. But these I suppose are the +_flashes of genius_, which you have taught her. However she is an +angel, and in her every thing is graceful. + +As for your other prodigy, I scarcely know what to make of him; except +that he seems to have quite conceit enough of himself. Every other +sentence is a contradiction of what the last speaker advanced. This is +the first time he ever ventured to cross his father's threshold, and +yet he talks as familiarly of kingdoms, governments, nations, manners, +and other high sounding phrases, as if he had been secretary of state +to king Minos, had ridden upon the white elephant, and studied under +the Dalai Lama! He is the Great Mogul of politicians! And as for +letters, science, and talents, he holds them all by patent right! He is +such a monopolizer that no man else can get a morsel! If he were not a +plebeian, I could most sincerely wish you were married to him; for +then, whenever my soul should hunger and thirst after morality, I +should know where to come and get a full meal. Though perhaps his not +being a gentleman would be no objection to you, at least your letter +leads me to suspect as much. + +Do not however mistake me. I mean this jocularly. For I will not +degrade my sister so much, as to suppose she has ever cast a thought on +the son either of the gardener or the steward, of any man. Though, tied +to her mother's apron-string and shut up on the confines of +Worcestershire, she may think proper to lecture and give rules of +conduct to a brother who has seen the world, and studied both men and +books of every kind, that is but a harmless and pardonable piece of +vanity. It ought to be laughed at, and for that reason I have laughed. + +For the rest, I will be willing to think as well of my sister, as this +sister can be to think of her catechised, and very patient, humble, +younger brother, + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. I have written in answer to my mother by the same post. From the +general tenor of her letter, I cannot but imagine that, just before she +sat down to write, she had been listening to one of your civil +lectures, against wild brothers, fine gentlemen, and vile rakes. Is not +that the cant? One thing let me whisper to you, sister: I am not +obliged to any person who suspects or renders me suspected. I claim +the privilege of being seen before I am condemned, and heard before I +am executed. If I should not prove to be quite the phoenix which might +vie with so miraculous so unique a sister, I must then be contented to +take shame to myself. But till then I should suppose the thoughts of a +sister might as well be inclined to paint me white as black. After all, +I cannot conclude without repeating that I believe the whole world +cannot equal the lovely, the divine Anna St. Ives: and, whatever else +you may say or think of me, do not lead her to imagine I am unjust to +her supreme beauty, and charms. An insinuation of that kind I would +never forgive--Never! + + + + +LETTER XXVI + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude_, + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +You cannot imagine, honest Aby, the surprise I am in. Is this their +famous France? Is this the finest country in the whole world? Why, Aby, +from Boulogne to Paris, at least from Montreuil, I am certain I did not +see a single hedge! All one dead flat; with an eternal row of trees, +without beginning, middle, or end. I sincerely believe, Aby, I shall +never love a straight row of trees again. And the wearisome right lined +road, that you never lose sight of; not for a moment, Aby! No lucky +turning. No intervening hill. + +Oh that I were but the Grand Monarch! What improvements would I make! +What a scope for invention, Aby! A kingdom! A revenue of four hundred +millions of livres, and a standing army of three hundred thousand men! +All which, if the king were a wise man, it is very evident, Abimelech, +he might employ in improvements; and heaven knows there is a want of +them. What are their petty corvees, by which these straight roads have +been patched up, and their everlasting elms planted? I would assemble +all my vassals--[Your son Frank, Aby, has given me much information +concerning the present governments of Europe, and the origin of manors, +fiefs, and lordships. I can assure you he is a very deep young man; +though I could wish he were not quite so peremptory and positive; and +has informed me of some things which I never heard of before, though I +am twice his age. But he seems to have them so fast at his finger's +ends that I suppose they must be true. I had often heard of entails, +and mortmain, and lands held in fee or fief, I don't know which, and +all that you know, Abimelech. One's deeds and one's lawyers tell one +something, blindly, of these matters; but I never knew how it had all +happened. He told me that--Egad I forget what he told me. But I know he +made it all out very clear. Still I must say he is cursed +positive.]--However, Aby, as I was saying, I would assemble all my +vassals, all my great lords and fief holders, and they should assemble +their vassals, and all hands should be set to work: some to plan, +others to plant; some to grub, some to dig, some to hoe, and some to +sow. The whole country should soon be a garden! Tell me, Aby, is not +the project a grand one[1]? What a dispatch of work! What a change of +nature! I am ravished with the thought! + +[Footnote 1: The plan is in reality much grander than the good knight +suspected; if embraced at the will of a nation, instead of at the will +of an individual.] + +As for any ideas of improvement to be picked up here, Abimelech, they +must not be expected. I shall never forget the sameness of the scene! +So unlike the riches of Wenbourne-Hill! Sir Alexander would have a +country open enough here, at least. He would not complain of being shut +in. The wind may blow from what point it pleases, and you have it on +all sides. Except the road-side elms I mentioned, and now and then a +coppice, which places they tell me are planted for the preservation of +the game, I should have supposed there had not been a tree in the +country; had I not been told that there were many large forests, to the +right, and the left, out of sight. For my part I don't know where they +have hidden them, and so must take their word for the fact. 'Tis true +indeed that we travelled a part of the way in the dark. + +I was mentioning the game, Aby. The game laws here are excellently put +in execution. Hares are as plenty as rabbits in a warren, partridges as +tame as our dove-house pigeons, and pheasants that seem as if they +would come and feed out of your hand. For no scoundrel poacher dare +molest them. If he did, I am not certain whether the lord of the manor +could not hang him up instantly without judge or jury. + +Though Frank tells me they have no juries here; which by the bye is odd +enough; and as he says I suppose it is a great shame. For, as he put +the case to me, how should I like, to have my estate seized on, by some +insolent prince or duke? For you know, I being a baronet in my own +right, Aby, no one less in rank would dare infringe upon me. Well! How +should I like to have this duke, or this prince, seize upon my estate; +and, instead of having my right tried by a special jury of my peers, to +have the cause decided by him who can get the prettiest woman to plead +for him, and who will pay her and his judges the best? For such Frank +assures me is the mode here! Now really all this is very bad; very bad +indeed, and as he says wants reforming. + +But as for the game laws, as I was saying, Aby, they are excellently +enforced; and your poor rascals here are kept in very proper +subjection. They are held to the grindstone, as I may say. And so they +ought to be, Aby. For, I have often heard you say, what is a man but +what he is worth? Which in certain respects is very true. A gentleman +of family and fortune, why he is a gentleman; and no insolent beggar +ought to dare to look him in the face, without his permission. But you, +Aby, had always a very great sense of propriety, in these respects. And +you have found your advantage in it; as indeed you ought. It is a pity, +considering what a learned young man you have made your son, that you +did not teach him a little of your good sense in this particular. He is +too full of contradiction: too confident by half. + +Let me have a long and full and whole account of what you are doing, +Aby. Tell me precisely how forward your work is, and the exact spot +where you are when each letter comes away. I know I need not caution +you to keep those idle fellows, the day labourers, to it. I never knew +any man who worked them better. And yet, Aby, it is surprising the sums +that they have cost me; but you are a very careful honest fellow; and +they have done wonders, under my planning and your inspection. + +I do not wish that the moment I receive a letter it should be known to +every lacquey; especially here; where it seems to be one entire city of +babblers. The people appear to have nothing to do but to talk. In the +house, in the street, in the fields, breakfast, dinner, and supper, +walking, sitting, or standing, they are never silent. Nay egad I doubt +whether they do not talk in their sleep! So do you direct to me at the +Cafe Conti--However I had better write the direction for you at full +length, for fear of a mistake. And be sure you take care of your +spelling, Aby, or I don't know what may happen. For I am told that many +of these French people are devilish illiterate, and I am sure they are +devilish cunning. Snap! They answer before they hear you! And, what is +odd enough, their answers are sometimes as pat as if they knew your +meaning. Indeed I have often thought it strange that your low poor +people should be so acute, and have so much common sense. But do you +direct your letters thus-- + + _A Monsieur Monsieur le Chevalier de St. Ives, Baronet Anglois, + an Cafe Conti, vis-a-vis le Pont Neuf, Quai Conti, a Paris._ + +And so, Abimelech, I remain + +A. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXVII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, rue Guenegaude_, + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +The black forebodings of my mind, Oliver, are fulfilled! I have been +struck! The phantom I dreaded has appeared, has flashed upon me, and +all the evils of which I prophesied, and more than all, are collecting +to overwhelm me; are rushing to my ruin! + +This brother of Louisa! Nothing surely was ever so unaccountable! The +very same whom I prevented from fighting, in the _Champs Elysees!_ Ay, +he! This identical Clifton, for Clifton it was, has again appeared; has +been here, is here, is never hence. His aspect was petrifying! He came +upon me this second time in the strangest, the most insolent manner +imaginable; just as I had sent away my last letter to thee; when I was +sitting the guardian of a treasure, which my fond false reveries were +at that moment flattering me might one day be mine! Starting at the +sight of me! Nothing kind, nothing conciliating in his address; it was +all imperious demand. Who was I? By what right did I deny admission to +the young lady's woman, to inform her he was come to pay her his +respects? He!--Having a letter from Sir Arthur, inviting him +thither!--Were such orders to be countermanded by me? Again and again, +who was I?--Oliver, he is a haughty youth; violent, headstrong, and +arrogant! Believe me he will be found so. + +What do I mean? Why do I dread him? How! The slave of fear? Why is my +heart so inclined to think ill of him? Do I seek to depreciate? She has +mentioned him several times; has expected, with a kind of eagerness, he +would resemble her Louisa; has hoped he and I should be friends. 'Did +not I hope the same?' Oliver, she has tortured me! All benevolence as +she is, she has put me on the rack! + +I must not yield thus to passion; it is criminal. I have too much +indulged the flattering dreams of desire. Yet what to do?--How to +act?--Must I tamely quit the field the moment an adversary appears; +turn recreant to myself, and coward-like give up my claims, without +daring to say such and such they are? No. Justice is due as much to +myself as to any other. If he be truly deserving of preference, why let +him be preferred. I will rejoice.--Yes, Oliver, mill.--He who is the +slave of passion, is unworthy a place in the noble mind of Anna. + +But this man is not my superior: I feel, Oliver, he is not; and it +becomes me to assert my rights. Nay, his pride acts as a +provocative--Oliver, I perceive how wrong this is; but I will not blot +out the line. Let it remain as a memento. He that would correct his +failings must be willing to detect them. + +The anxiety of my mind is excessive; and the pain which a conviction of +the weakness and error that this anxiety occasions renders it still +more insupportable. I must take myself to task; ay and severely. I must +enquire into the wrong and the right, and reason must be absolute. Tell +me thy thoughts, plainly and honestly; be sure thou dost; for I +sometimes suspect thee of too much kindness, of partiality to thy +friend. Chastise the derelictions of my heart, whenever thou perceivest +them; or I myself shall hereafter become thy accuser. I am +dissatisfied, Oliver: what surer token can there be that I am wrong? I +weary thee--Prithee forgive, but do not forget to aid me. + +F. HENLEY + + +P.S. He--[I mean Louisa's brother; for I think only of one he and one +she, at present.] He has not yet taken any notice of our strange first +meeting; and thou mayst imagine, Oliver, if he think fit to be silent, +I shall not speak. Not that it can be supposed he holds duelling to be +disgraceful. I have enquired if any rencounter had taken place; for I +was very apprehensive that the champions would have their tilting-match +another time. However, as I can hear of no such accident, and as Mr. +Clifton is here continually, I hope I have been instrumental in +preventing such absurd guilt. The follies of men are scarcely +comprehensible! And what am I? Dare I think myself wise? Oliver, my +passions are in arms; the contest is violent; I call on thee to examine +and to aid the cause of truth. + + + + +LETTER XXVIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +I have found it, Fairfax! The pearl of pearls! The inestimable jewel! +The unique! The world contains but one!--And what?--A woman! The woman +of whom I told you!--Anna St. Ives! You have seen the Venus de +Medicis?--Pshaw!--Stone! Inanimate marble! But she!--The very sight of +her is the height of luxury! The pure blood is seen to circulate! +Transparent is the complexion which it illuminates!--And for symmetry, +for motion, for grace, sculptor, painter, nor poet ever yet imagined +such! Desire languishes to behold her! The passions all are in arms, +and the mere enjoyment of her presence is superior to all that her sex +beside can give! + +Do not suppose me in my altitudes: all I can say, all you can imagine, +are far short of the reality. + +Then how unlike is her candour to the petty arts, the shallow cunning +of her sex! Her heart is as open as her countenance; her thoughts flow, +fearless, to her lips. Original ideas, expressed in words so select, +phrases so happy, as to astonish and delight; a brilliancy and a +strength of fancy that disdain limitation, and wit rapid and fatal as +lightning to all opposition; these and a thousand other undescribable +excellencies are hers. + +I love her Love?--I adore her! Ay--Be not surprised--Even to madness +and marriage!--No matter for what I have beforetime said, or what I +have thought, my mind is changed. I have discovered perfection which I +did not imagine could exist. I renounce my former opinions; which +applied to the sex in general were orthodox, but to her were blasphemy. + +I would not be too sudden; I have not yet made any direct proposal. But +could I exist and forbear giving intimations? No. And how were they +received? Why with all that unaffected frankness which did not pretend +to misunderstand but to meet them, to cherish hope, and to give a +prospect of bliss which mortal man can never merit. + +She is all benevolence! Nay she is too much so. There is that youngster +here; that upstart; he who bolted upon us and mouthed his Pindarics in +the Elysian Fields; the surly groom of the chamber. This fellow has +insinuated himself into her favour, and the benignity of her soul +induces her to treat him with as much respect as if he were a +gentleman. + +The youth has some parts, some ideas: at least he has plenty of words. +But his arrogance is insufferable. He does not scruple to interfere in +the discourse, either with me, Sir Arthur, or the angelic Anna! Nay +sets up for a reformer; and pretends to an insolent superiority of +understanding and wisdom. Yet he was never so long from home before in +his life; has seen nothing, but has read a few books, and has been +permitted to converse with this all intelligent deity. + +I cannot deny but that the pedagogue sometimes surprises me, with the +novelty of his opinions; but they are extravagant. I have condescended, +oftener than became me, to shew how full of hyperbole and paradox they +were. Still he as constantly maintained them, with a kind of congruity +that astonished me, and even rendered many of them plausible. + +But, exclusive of his obstinacy, the rude, pot companion loquacity of +the fellow is highly offensive. He has no sense of inferiority. He +stands as erect, and speaks with as little embarrassment and as loudly +as the best of us: nay boldly asserts that neither riches, rank, nor +birth have any claim. I have offered to buy him a beard, if he would +but turn heathen philosopher. I have several times indeed bestowed no +small portion of ridicule upon him; but in vain. His retorts are always +ready; and his intrepidity, in this kind of impertinence, is +unexampled. + +From some anecdotes which are told of him, I find he does not want +personal courage; but he has no claim to chastisement from a gentleman. +Petty insults he disregards; and has several times put me almost beyond +the power of forbearance, by his cool and cutting replies. His oratory +is always ready; cut, dry, and fit for use; and damned insolent oratory +it frequently is. + +The absurdity of his tenets can only be equalled by the effrontery with +which they are maintained. Among the most ridiculous of what he calls +first principles is that of the equality of mankind. He is one of your +levellers! Marry! His superior! Who is he? On what proud eminence can +he be found? On some Welsh mountain, or the pike of Teneriffe? +Certainly not in any of the nether regions! What! Was not he the ass +that brayed to Balaam? And is he not now Mufti to the mules? He will if +he please! And if he please he will let it alone! Dispute his +prerogative who dare! He derives from Adam; what time the world was all +hail fellow well met! The savage, the wild man o' the woods is his true +liberty boy; and the orang outang his first cousin. A Lord is a merry +andrew, a Duke a jack pudding, and a King a tom fool: his name is man! + +Then, as to property, 'tis a tragic farce; 'tis his sovereign pleasure +to eat nectarines, grow them who will. Another Alexander, he; the world +is all his own! Ay, and he will govern it as he best knows how! He will +legislate, dictate, dogmatize; for who so infallible? What! Cannot +Goliah crack a walnut? + +As for arguments, it is but ask and have: a peck at a bidding, and a +good double handful over. I own I thought I knew something; but no, I +must to my horn book. Then, for a simile, it is sacrilege; and must be +kicked out of the high court of logic! Sarcasm too is an ignoramus, and +cannot solve a problem: Wit a pert puppy, who can only flash and +bounce. The heavy walls of wisdom are not to be battered down by such +popguns and pellets. He will waste you wind enough to set up twenty +millers, in proving an apple is not an egg-shell; and that _homo_ is +Greek for a goose. Dun Scotus was a school boy to him. I confess, he +has more than once dumbfounded me by his subtleties.--Pshaw!--It is a +mortal murder of words and time to bestow them on him. + +My sister is in correspondence with my new divinity. I thought proper +to bestow a few gentle lashes on her, for a letter which she wrote to +me, and which I mentioned in my first from Paris, insinuating her own +superiority, and giving me to understand how fortunate it would be for +the world should I but prove as consummate a paragon as herself. She +richly deserved it, and yet I now wish I had forborne; for, if she have +her sex's love of vengeance in her, she may injure me in the tenderest +part. Never was woman so devoted to woman as Anna St. Ives is to +Louisa. I should suspect any other of her sex of extravagant +affectation; but her it is impossible to suspect: her manner is so +peculiarly her own: and it comes with such unsought for energy, that +there is no resisting conviction. + +I have two or three times been inclined to write and ask Louisa's +pardon. But, no; that pride forbids. She dare not openly profess +herself my enemy? She may insinuate, and countermine; but I have a +tolerably strong dependance on my own power over Anna. She is not +blind. She is the first to feel and to acknowledge superior merit; and +I think I have no reason to fear repulse from any woman, whose hand I +can bring myself to ask. + +One of Anna's greatest perfections, with me, is the ready esteem which +she entertained for me, and her not being insensible to those qualities +which I flatter myself I possess. Never yet did woman treat me with +affected disdain, who did not at last repent of her coquetry. + +'Tis true that Anna has sometimes piqued me, by appearing to value me +more for my sister's sake even than for my own. I have been ready to +say dissimulation was inseparable from woman. And yet her manner is as +unlike hypocrisy as possible, I never yet could brook scorn, or +neglect. I know no sensation more delicious than that of inflicting +punishment for insult or for injury; 'tis in our nature. + +That youngster of whom I have prated so much, his name is Frank Henley, +denies this, and says that what the world calls nature is habit. He +added, with some degree of sarcasm as I thought, that it was as +natural, or in his sense as habitual, for some men to pardon, and to +seek the good even of those by whom they were wronged, as it was for +others to resent and endeavour to revenge. But, as I have said, he +continually makes pretensions to an offensive superiority. You may +think I do not fail to humble the youth, whenever opportunity offers. +But no! Humble him, indeed! Shew him boiling ice! Stew a whale in an +oyster-shell! Make mount Caucasus into a bag pudding! But do not +imagine he may be moved! The legitimate son of Cato's eldest bastard, +he! A petrified Possidonius, in high preservation! + +There is another thing which astonishes me more than all I have +mentioned. Curse me, Fairfax, if I do not believe that [God confound +the fellow!] he has the impudence to be in love with Anna St. Ives! Nay +that he braves me, defies me, and, in the insufferable frothy +fermentation of his vanity, persuades himself that he looks down upon +me! + +I must finish, for I cannot think of his intolerable insolence with +common patience; and I know not what right I have to tease you, +concerning my paltry disputes with a plebeian pedant, and my still more +paltry jealousies. But let him beware! If he really have the arrogance +to place himself in my way, I will presently trample him into his +original nonentity. I only forbear because he has had the cunning to +make himself so great a favourite. + +This must be horribly stupid stuff to you, Fairfax: therefore pay me in +my own coin; be as dull as you sometimes know how, and bid me complain +if I dare. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XXIX + +_Louisa Clifton to Coke Clifton_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +I write, dear brother, in answer to your last, that I may not by any +neglect of mine contribute to the mistake in which you are at present. +Your letter shews that you suppose your sister to be vain, +presumptuous, and rude; and, such being your feelings, I am far from +blaming you for having expressed them. + +Still, brother, I must be sincere, and I would by no means have it +understood that I think you have chosen the best manner of expressing +them; for it is not the manner which, if I have such faults, would be +most likely to produce reformation. But your intention has been to +humble me; and, desiring to be sarcastic, you have not failed in +producing your intended effect. I am sincerely glad of it: had you +shewn that desire without the power, I should have been as sincerely +sorry. But where there is mind there is the material from which every +thing is to be hoped. + +I suppose I shall again incur chastisement, for rising thus as you call +it to the sublime. But I will write my thoughts without fear, and I +hope will patiently listen should they deserve reproach. If I have +sinned, it is in most fervently wishing to find my brother one of the +brightest and the best of men; and I have received more pleasure from +the powers he has displayed, in reproving me, than I could have done by +any dull expression of kindness; in which, though there might have been +words, there would neither have been feeling, sentiment, nor soul. + +The concluding sentence of your letter warns me not to defame you with +my friend. I must speak without disguise, brother. You feel that, had +you received such a letter, revenge would have been the first emotion +of your mind. I hope its duration would have been short. I will most +readily and warmly repeat all the good of my brother that I know: but I +will neither conceal what ought to be said, nor say what I do not know. +I take it for granted that he would not have me guilty of duplicity. + +Adieu, dear brother; and believe me to be most affectionately your + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XXX + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel d'Espagne, Rue Guenegaude,_ + +_Fauxbourg St. Germain_ + +How severe, Oliver, are the lessons of truth! But to learn them from +her lips, and to be excited to the practice of them by her example, are +blessings which to enjoy and not to profit by would shew a degenerate +heart. + +I have just risen from a conversation which has made a deep impression +on my mind. It was during breakfast. I know not whether reflecting on +it will appease, or increase, the sensations which the behaviour of +this brother of Louisa hourly exacerbates. But I will calm that +irritability which would dwell on him, and nothing else, that I may +repeat what has just happened. + +The interesting part of what passed began by Mr. Clifton's affirming, +with Pope, that men had and would have, to the end of time, each a +ruling passion. This I denied, if by ruling passion were meant the +indulgence of any irregular appetite, or the fostering of any erroneous +system. I was asked, with a sneer, for my recipe to subdue the +passions; if it were not too long to be remembered. I replied it was +equally brief and efficacious. It was the force of reason; or, if the +word should please better, of truth. + +And in what year of the world was the discovery of truth to be made? + +In that very year when, instead of being persecuted for speaking their +thoughts, the free discussion of every opinion, true or false, should +not only be permitted, but receive encouragement and applause. + +As usual, the appeal was made to Anna: and, as usual, her decision was +in my favour. Nothing, said she, is more fatal, to the progress of +virtue, than the supposition that error is invincible. Had I persuaded +myself I never could have learned French, Italian, or music, why learn +them I never could. For how can that be finished which is never begun? +But, though all the world were to laugh at me, I should laugh at all +the world, were it to tell me it is more difficult to prevent the +beginning, growth, and excess of any passion, than it is to learn to +play excellently on the piano forte. + +Is that really your opinion, madam? said Clifton. + +It is. + +Do you include all the passions? + +All. + +What! The passion of love? + +Yes. Love is as certainly to be conquered as any of them; and there is +no mistake which has done more mischief than that of supposing it +irresistible. Young people, and we poor girls in particular, having +once been thoroughly persuaded of the truth of such an axiom, think it +in vain to struggle, where there are no hopes of victory. We are +conquered not because we are weak, but because we are cowards. We seem +to be convinced that we have fallen in love by enchantment, and are +under the absolute dominion of a necromancer. It is truly the dwarf +leading the giant captive. Is it not--[Oliver! She fixed her eyes upon +me, as she spoke!]--Is it not, Frank? + +I was confounded. I paused for a moment. A deep and heavy sigh +involuntarily burst from me. I endeavoured to be firm, but I stammered +out--Madam--it is. + +I am convinced he is jealous of me. Nay he fears me; though he scorns +me too much to think so meanly of himself. Yet he fears me. And what is +worse, Oliver, I fear him! I blush for my own debility. But let me not +endeavour to conceal my weakness. No: it must be encountered, and +cured. His quick and audacious eye was searching me, while I struggled +to think, and rid myself of confusion; and he discovered more than gave +him pleasure.--She continued. + +I know of no prejudice more pernicious to the moral conduct of youth +than that of this unconquerable passion of love. Any and all of our +passions are unconquerable, whenever we shall be weak enough to think +them so. Does not the gamester plead the unconquerableness of his +passion? The drunkard, the man of anger, the revengeful, the envious, +the covetous, the jealous, have they not all the same plea? With the +selfish and the feeble passion succeeds to passion as different habits +give birth to each, and the last passion proves more unconquerable than +its predecessor. How frequently do we see people in the very fever of +this unconquerable passion of love, which disappears for the rest of +their lives, after a few weeks possession of the object whom they had +so passionately loved! How often do they as passionately hate; while +the violence of their hatred and of their love is perhaps equally +guilty! + +Sir Arthur I observed was happy to join in this new doctrine; which +however is true, Oliver. I am not certain that he too had not his +apprehensions, concerning me: at least his approbation of the principle +was ardent. + +This was not all. After a short silence, she added, and again fixed her +eyes on me--Next to the task of subduing our own passions, I know none +more noble than that of aiding to subdue the passions of others. To +restore a languishing body is held to be a precious art; but to give +health to the mind, to restore declining genius to its true rank, is an +art infinitely more inestimable. + +She rose, and I withdrew; her words vibrating in my ear, where they +vibrate still. Perceivest thou not their import?--Oliver, she has +formed a project fatal to my hopes! Nay, I could almost fear, fatal to +herself! Yet what, who can harm her? Does the savage, the monster +exist, that could look upon her and do her injury? No! She is safe! She +is immaculate! Beaming in beauty, supreme in virtue, the resplendent +aegis of truth shields her from attaint! + +Yes, Oliver, her answers were to him; but the intent, the soul of them +was directed to me. It was a warning spirit, that cried, beware of +indulging an unjustifiable passion! Awake, at the call of virtue, and +obey! Behold here a sickly mind, and aid me in its recovery!--To me her +language was pointed, clear, and incapable of other interpretation. + +But is there not peril in her plan? Recover a mind so perverted? +Strong, I own, nay uncommon in its powers; for such the mind of Clifton +is: but its strength is its disease. + +And is it so certain that for me to love her is error, is weakness, is +vice? No. Or, if it be, I have not yet discovered why. Oliver, she +shall hear me! Let her shew me my mistake, if mistaken I be, and I will +desist: but justice demands it, and she shall hear me. + +We are going to remove, at his repeated instances, to the hotel where +he resides. He leads Sir Arthur as he pleases; but it grieved me to see +her yield so readily. Now that I have discovered her intentions, I no +longer wonder. Omnipotent as the power of truth and virtue is, I yet +cannot approve the design. The enterprises of virtue itself may have +their romance--I know not--This to me at least is fatal--Could I--? I +must conclude!--Lose her?--For ever!--For ever!--I must conclude-- + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XXXI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +The assiduity of Clifton, my dear Louisa, is so great that we already +seem to be acquaintance of seven years standing. This is evidently his +intention. His temper is eager, impatient of delay, quick in resolving, +and, if I do not mistake, sometimes precipitate. But his intellectual +powers are of a very high order. His wit is keen, his invention strong, +his language flowing and elegant, and his ideas and figures remarkable, +sometimes for their humour, and at others for their splendour. His +prejudices are many of them deep; nor are they few; but he speaks them +frankly, defends them boldly, and courts rather than shuns discussion. +What then may not be hoped from a mind like his? Ought such a mind to +be neglected? No!--No!--Eternally no!--I have already given a strong +hint of this to Frank. + +I am persuaded that, since you saw him, he is greatly improved in +person. The regularity of his features, his florid complexion, tall +stature, and the facility and grace of all his motions, are with him no +common advantages. + +He has attached himself exceedingly to us, and has induced Sir Arthur +to take apartments in the _Hotel de l'Universite_, where he resides +himself, and where the accommodations are much better, the situation +more agreeable, and the rooms more spacious. + +A little incident happened, when we removed, which was characteristic +of the manners of the people, and drew forth a pleasing trait of the +acuteness of Clifton, and of his turn of thinking. + +One of the men who helped us with our luggage, after being paid +according to agreement, asked, as is very customary with these people, +for _quelque chose pour boire_; which Sir Arthur, not being very expert +in the French idiom, understood literally. He accordingly ordered a +bottle of the light common wine, and being thirsty poured some into a +tumbler and drank himself first, then poured out some more, and offered +the porter. + +The man took the glass as Sir Arthur held it out to him; and, with some +surprise and evident sense of insult in his countenance, said to Sir +Arthur--_a moi, monsieur_? To which Sir Arthur, perfectly at a loss to +comprehend his meaning, made no answer; and the man; without tasting +the liquor, set the glass down on a bench in the yard. + +Clifton, well acquainted with the manners of the people, and knowing +the man imagined Sir Arthur meant to insult him, by giving him the same +glass out of which he had drunken, with great alacrity took it up the +moment the man had set it down, and said--_Non, mon ami, c'est a +moi_--and drank off the wine. He then called for another tumbler, and +filling it gave it to the man. + +The French are a people of active and lively feelings; and the poor +fellow, after receiving the glass from Clifton, took up the other empty +tumbler, poured the wine back into it, said in his own language forgive +me, sir; I see I am in the wrong; and immediately drank out of the +tumbler which he had before refused. + +Each country you perceive, Louisa, has its own ideas of delicacy. The +French think it very strange to see two people drink out of the same +vessel. Not however that I suppose every porter in Paris would refuse +wine, if offered, for the same reason. Neither would they all with the +same sensibility be so ready to retract. + +The good humour as well as the good sense of Clifton's reproof pleased +me highly; and we must all acknowledge him our superior, in the art of +easily conforming to the customs of foreigners, and in readily +pardoning even their absurdities. For foreigners, Louisa, have their +absurdities, as well as ourselves. + +But I have not yet done. I have another anecdote to relate of Clifton, +from which I augur still more. + +I had observed our Thomas in conversation with a man, who from his +dress and talking to Thomas I knew must be an Englishman; and the care +which it becomes me to take, that such well-meaning but simple people +should not be deceived, led me to inquire who he was. Thomas began to +stammer; not with guilt, but with a desire of telling a story which he +knew not how to tell so well as he wished. At last we understood from +him it was a young English lad, who had neither money, meat, nor work, +and who was in danger of starving, because he could find no means of +returning to his own country. Poor Thomas finding himself among a kind +of heathens, as he calls the French, pitied his case very sincerely, +and had supplied him with food for some days, promising that he would +soon take an opportunity of speaking to me, whom he is pleased to call +the best young lady in the world; and I assure you, Louisa, I am proud +of his good word. + +Your brother heard this account, and immediately said--[For indeed I +wished to know what his feelings were, and therefore did not offer to +interrupt him.] 'Desire him to come up. Let me question him. If he be +really what he says, he ought to be relieved: but he is very likely +some idle fellow, who being English makes a trade of watching for +English families, and living upon this tale.' So far said I to myself, +Clifton, all is right. I therefore let him proceed. The lad came up, +for he was not twenty, and your brother began his interrogations. + +You are an English lad, you say? + +Yes, sir. + +Where do you come from? + +Wolverhampton. + +What is your trade? + +A buckle plater. + +And did you serve out your apprenticeship? + +No. + +How so? + +My master and I quarrelled, he struck me, I beat him, and was obliged +to run away. + +Where did you run to? + +I went to London. I have an aunt there, a poor woman, who chairs for +gentlefolks, and I went to her. + +How came you here? + +She got me a place, with a young gentleman who was going on his +travels. I had been among horses before I was bound 'prentice, and he +hired me as his groom. + +But how came you to leave him? + +He is a very passionate gentleman. He has got a French footman, who +stands and shrugs, and lets him give him thumps, and kicks; and one +morning, because one boot was brighter than t'other, he was going to +horsewhip me. So I told him to keep his hands off, or I would knock him +down. + +Why you are quite a fighting fellow. + +No, sir; I never fought with any body in my life, if they did not first +meddle with me. + +So you quarrelled with your master, beat him, ran away from your +apprenticeship, got a place, came into a foreign country, and then, +because your master did not happen to please you, threatened to knock +him down! + +The poor fellow was quite confounded, and I was half out of breath from +an apprehension that Clifton had taken the wrong side of the question. +But I was soon relieved--This tale is too artless to be false, said he, +turning to me.--You cannot conceive, Louisa, the infinite pleasure +which these few words gave me--I still continued silent, and watching, +not the lad, but your brother. + +So you never meddle with any body who does not meddle with you? + +No, sir, I would scorn it. + +But you will not be horsewhipped? + +No, sir, I won't; starve or not starve. + +I need not ask you if you are honest, sober, and industrious; for I +know you will say you are. + +Why should I not, sir? + +You have nobody to give you a character, have you? + +My master is still in Paris; but to be sure he will give me a bad one. + +Can you tell me his address--where he lives? + +I can't tell it in French, but here it is. + +Can you write and read? + +Yes, sir. + +And how long have you been out of place? + +Above seven weeks. + +Why did not you return to England, when you received your wages? + +I had no money. I owed a fellow servant a guinea and a half, which I +had borrowed to buy shirts and stockings. + +And those you have made away with? + +Not all. I was obliged to take some of them to Mount Pity. + +_Mont Piete_, you mean.[1] + +[Footnote 1: The general receptacle for pledges. Among other monopolies +and trades, government in France used to be the common pawnbroker.] + +Belike yes, sir. + +Well, here's something for you, for the present; and come to me +to-morrow morning. + +The lad went away, with more in his countenance than he knew how to put +into speech; and I asked Clifton what he meant by desiring him to come +again. I intend, madam, said he, to make some inquiries of his master; +and if they please me to hire him; for I want a servant, and if I am +not deceived he will make a good one. + +Think, Louisa, whether I were not pleased with this proof of +discernment. By this accident, I learned more of Clifton's character in +ten minutes than perhaps I might have done in ten months. He saw, for I +wished him to see, that he had acted exactly as I could have desired. + +He appears indeed to be a favourite with servants, which certainly is +no bad omen. He is Laura's delight. He is a free gentleman, a generous +gentleman, [I suppose he gives her money] a merry gentleman, and has +the handsomest person, the finest eye, and the best manner of dressing +his hair she ever beheld!--She quite overflows in his praise. + +In a few days we are to go to the country seat of the Marquis of +Villebrun, where we intend to stay about a fortnight. Your brother has +introduced us to all his friends, among whom is the marquis; and, as we +are intimate with our ambassador, we have more invitations than we can +accept, and acquaintance than we can cultivate. Frank is to go with us. + +And now, Louisa, with anxiety I own, my mind is far from satisfied. I +have not thought sufficiently to convince myself, yet act as though I +had. It is little less than open war between your brother and Frank. +The supposition of a duty, too serious to be trifled with, has induced +me to favour rather than repulse the too eager advances of Clifton; +though this supposed duty has been but half examined. + +The desire to retrieve mind cannot but be right; yet the mode may be +wrong. + +At this moment my heart bitterly reproaches me, for not proceeding on +more certain principles. The merit of Frank is great, almost beyond the +power of expression. I need not tell my Louisa which way affection, +were it encouraged, would incline: but I will not be its slave. Nor can +I reproach myself for erring on that side; but for acting, in +resistance to inclination, with too little reserve. No arguments I +believe can shew me that I have a right to sport with the feelings of +my father, and my friends; though those feelings are founded in +prejudice. But my inquiries shall be more minute; and my resolves will +then be more permanent and self-complacent. + +Adieu, my best and dearest friend. Write often: reprove me for all that +I do amiss--Would my mind were more accordant with itself! But I will +take it roundly to task. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXXII + + _Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +This brief memorandum of my actual existence, dear Fairfax, will be +delivered to you by the Chevalier de Villeroi; a worthy gentleman, to +whom I have given letters to my friends, and who will meet you at +Turin. + +I have not a moment to waste; therefore can only say that I am laying +close siege; that my lines of circumvallation do not proceed quite so +rapidly as my desires; but that I have just blown up the main bastion; +or, in other words, have prevailed on Sir Arthur to send this hornet, +this Frank Henley, back to England. The fellow's aspiring insolence is +not to be endured. His merit is said to be uncommon. 'Tis certain he +strains after the sublime; and in fact is too deep a thinker, nay I +suspect too deep a plotter, not to be dangerous. Adieu. + +C. CLIFTON + + +I am in a rage! Curse the fellow! He has countermined me; blown up my +works! I might easily have foreseen it, had I not been a stupid booby. +I could beat my thick scull against the wall! I have neither time nor +patience to tell you what I mean; except that here he is, and here he +will remain, in my despite. + + + + +LETTER XXXIII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +It is as I told thee, Oliver. He fears me. He treats me, as he thinks, +with the neglect and contempt due to an unqualified intruder: but he +mistakes his own motives, and acts with insidious jealousy; nay +descends to artifice. His alarmed spirit never rests; he is ever on the +watch, lest at entering a room, descending a staircase, stepping into +her carriage, or on any other occasion, I should touch her hand. He has +endeavoured to exclude me from all their parties; and, though often +successfully, has several times been foiled. + +But his greatest disappointment was this very morning. Sir Arthur sent +for me, last night, to inform me I must return to Wenbourne-Hill, with +some necessary orders, which he did not choose to trust to the usual +mode of conveyance. I immediately suspected, and I think I did not do +him injustice, that my rival was the contriver of this sudden necessity +of my return. + +I received Sir Arthur's orders, but was determined immediately to +acquaint Anna. + +Clifton was present. She was surprised; and, I doubt not, had the same +suspicions as myself; for, after telling me I must not think of going, +she obliged Clifton himself to be the intercessor, with Sir Arthur, +that I should stay. His reluctance, feigned assent, and chagrin were +visible. + +Her words and manner to me were kind; nay I could almost think they +were somewhat more. She seemed to feel the injustice aimed at me; and +to feel it with as much resentment as a spirit so benignant could know. + +What!--Can he not be satisfied with half excluding me from her society; +with endeavouring to sink me as low in her estimation as in his own; +and with exercising all that arrogance which he supposes becoming the +character of a gentleman? + +Oliver, I am determined in my plan: my appeal shall be to her justice. +If it prove to be ill-founded, why then I must acquiesce. I am angry at +my own delay, at my own want of courage; but I shall find a time, and +that quickly. At least, if condemned I must be, I will be heard; but +equity I think is on my side--Yes--I will be heard. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XXXIV + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +Aid me if thou canst, Oliver, to think, or rather to unravel my own +entangled thoughts. Do not suffer me to continue in a state of +delusion, if thou perceivest it to be such. Be explicit; tell me if +thou dost but so much as forebode: for at moments I myself despond; +though at others I am wasted to the heaven of heavens, to certainty, +and bliss unutterable. If I deceive myself?--Well!--And if I do, what +is to follow?--Rashness?--Cowardice?--What! Basely abandon duty, +virtue, and energy?--No! + +Looks, words, appearances, daily events are all so contradictory, that +the warfare of hope and fear increases, and becomes violent, almost to +distraction! Clifton is openly countenanced by Sir Arthur, treated +kindly by her, and is incessant in every kind of assiduity. His +qualities are neither mean, insignificant, nor common. No: they are +brilliant, and rare. With a person as near perfection as his mind will +permit it to be, a knowledge of languages, a taste for the fine arts, +much bravery, high notions of honour, a more than common share of wit, +keen and ungovernable feelings, an impatience of contradiction, and an +obstinacy in error, he is a compound of jarring elements, that augur +tempests and peril. Vain, haughty, and self-willed, his family, his +fortune, his accomplishments and himself are the pictures that +fascinate his eye. It is attracted, for a moment, by the superior +powers of another; but all his passions and propensities forebode that +he is not to be held, even by that link of adamant. + +And is she to be dazzled then by this glare? Can her attention be +caught by person, attracted by wit? And does she not shrink from that +haughty pride which so continually turns to contemplate itself; from +those passions which are so eager to be gratified; and from those +mistakes which it will be so almost impossible to eradicate? Even were +I to lose her, must I see her thus devoted?--The thought is--I cannot +tell what! Too painful for any word short of extravagance. + +Impressed by feelings like these, the other day I sat down and threw a +few ideas into verse. The mind, surcharged with passion, is eager by +every means to disburthen itself. It is always prompt to hope that the +expression of it's feelings, if any way adequate, cannot but produce +the effect it wishes; and I wrote the following song, or love-elegy, or +what thou wilt. + + Rash hope avaunt! Be still my flutt'ring heart; + Nor breathe a sorrow, nor a sigh impart; + Appease each bursting throb, each pang reprove; + To suffer dare--But do not dare to love! + + Down, down, these swelling thoughts! Nor dream that worth + Can pass the haughty bounds of wealth and birth. + Yes, kindred feelings, truth, and virtue prove: + Yes, dare deserve--But do not dare to love! + + To noble tasks and dang'rous heights aspire; + Bid all the great and good thy wishes fire, + The mighty dead thy rival efforts move, + And dare to die--But do not dare to love! + +Thou knowest her supreme excellence in music; the taste, feeling, and +expression with which she plays; and the enchanting sweetness and +energy with which she sings. Having written my verses, I took them, +when she was busied elsewhere, to the piano-forte; and made some +unsuccessful attempts to please myself with an air to them. Sir Arthur +came in, and I left my stanzas on the desk of the instrument; very +inadvertently I assure thee, though I was afterward far from sorry that +they had been forgotten. + +I have frequently indulged myself in sitting in an antichamber, to +listen to her playing and singing. I have thought that she is most +impassioned when alone, and perhaps all musicians are so. The next day, +happening to listen in the manner I have mentioned, I heard her singing +an air which was new to me, and remarked that she once or twice +stopped, to consider and make alterations. + +I listened again and found she had been setting my verses! + +By my soul, Oliver, I have no conception of rapture superior to what I +experienced at that moment! She had collected all her feelings, all her +invention, had composed a most beautiful air, and sung it with an +effect that must have been heard to be supposed possible. The force +with which she uttered every thought to the climax of daring, and the +compassion which she infused into the conclusion 'But do not dare to +love'--produced the most affecting contrast I ever heard. + +This indeed was heaven, Oliver! But a heaven that ominously vanished, +at the entrance of Clifton. I followed him, and saw her shut the book, +and wipe the tear from her eye. Her flow of spirits is unfailing, but +the tone of her mind was raised too high suddenly to sink into +trifling. She looked at me two or three times. I know not for my part +what aspect I wore; but I could observe that the haughty Clifton felt +the gaiety of his heart in some sort disturbed, and was not pleased to +catch me listening, with such mute attention, to the ravishing music +she had made. + +Once again prithee tell me, Oliver, what am I to think? It was +impossible she should have sung as she did, had not the ideas affected +her more than I could have hoped, nay as much as they did myself. She +knew the writing. Why did she sigh? Why feel indignant? Why express +every sentiment that had passed through my mind with increasing +force?--What could she think?--Did she not approve?--She sung as if she +admired!--The world shall not persuade me that her looks were not the +true expressions of her heart; and she looked--! Recollect her, and the +temper of mind she was in, and imagine how!--Remember--_She could love +me if I would let her!_ + +I was displeased with the verses when I had written them: they were +very inadequate to what I wished. I discovered in some of the lines a +barren repetition of the preceding thought, and meant to have corrected +them. But I would not now alter a word for worlds! She has deigned to +set and sing them; and what was before but of little worth is now +inestimable. + +Yet am I far from satisfied with myself. My present state of mind is +disgraceful; for it cannot but be disgraceful to be kept in doubt by my +own cowardice. And if I am deceiving myself--Can it be possible, +Oliver?--But if I am, my present error is indeed alarming. The +difficulty of retreating momentarily increases, and every step in +advance will be miles in return. + +Clifton will suffer no impediment from the cowardice of which I +complain; for I much mistake if he has been accustomed to refusal; or +if he can scarcely think, when he deigns to sue, denial possible. + +I find myself every day determining to put an end to this suspense, and +every day delaying. The impulse however is too great to be long +resisted; and my excuse to myself continually is that I have not yet +found the proper moment. + +If, Oliver, this history of my heart be troublesome to thee, it is thy +duty to tell me so. But indeed thou tellest me the contrary; and I +know not why at this instant I should do thee the injustice to doubt +thy sincerity. Forgive me. It is a friendly fear, and not intended to +do thee wrong. But I wish thee to judge of me and my actions; and even +to let thy father judge, if thou shouldest at any time hesitate, and +fear I am committing error. Do this, and continue thy usual kindness in +communicating thy thoughts. + +F. HENLEY + + +P.S. The day after tomorrow, we are to set off for the Chateau de +Villebrun; on a party of pleasure, as it is called. Thus men run from +place to place, without knowing of what they are in search. They feel +vacuity; a want of something to make them happy; but what that +something is they have not yet discovered. + + + + +LETTER XXXV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +I fear, my dear Louisa, I am at present hurried forward a little too +fast to act with all the caution which I could wish. My mind is not +coherent, not at peace with itself. Ideas rush in multitudes, and more +than half obscure my understanding. + +I find that, since we left Wenbourne-Hill, Frank has grown upon my +thoughts very strangely. Indeed till then I was but partially +acquainted with his true character, the energy of which is very +uncommon. But, though his virtues are become more conspicuous, the +impediments that forbid any thought of union are not lessened. + +My chief difficulty is, I do not yet know how to give full effect to my +arguments, so as to produce such conviction as he shall be unable to +resist. Let me do but this, and I have no doubt of his perfect +acquiescence, and resignation. But, should I fail, the warfare of the +passions will be prolonged; and, for a time, a youth whose worth is +above my praise rendered unhappy. A sense of injustice, committed by +the person of whom, perhaps, he thought too highly to suppose it +possible that either error or passion should render her so culpable, +may prey upon his peace, and destroy the felicity of one to whom reason +and recollection tell me I cannot wish too much good. + +I am convinced I have been guilty of another mistake. I have on various +occasions been desirous of expressing approbation, mingled with esteem +and friendship. He has extorted it from me. He has obliged me to feel +thus. And why, have I constantly asked myself, should I repress or +conceal sensations that are the dues of merit? No: they ought not to +have been repressed, or concealed, but they ought to have been rendered +intelligible, incapable of misconstruction, and not liable to a meaning +which they were never intended to convey. For, if ever they were more +than I suppose, I have indeed been guilty. + +Yes, my Louisa, let me discharge my conscience. Let no accusation of +deceit rest with me. I can endure any thing but self-reproach. I avow, +therefore, Frank Henley is, in my estimation, the most deserving man I +have ever known. A man that I could love infinitely. A man whose +virtues I do and must ever love. A man in whose company my heart +assures me I could have enjoyed years of happiness. If the casuists in +such cases should tell me this is what they mean by love, why then I am +in love. + +But if the being able, without a murmur, nay cheerfully, to marry +another, or see him properly married, if the possession of the power +and the resolution to do what is right, and if an unshaken will to +exert this power prove the contrary, why then I am not in love. + +When I may, without trespassing on any duty, and with the full +approbation of my own heart, yield up its entire affections, the man to +whom they shall be devoted shall then find how much I can love. + +My passions must be, ought to be, and therefore shall be, under my +control; and, being conscious of the purity of my own intentions, I +have never thought that the emanations of mind ought to be shackled by +the dread of their being misinterpreted. It is not only cowardly, but +in my opinion pernicious. + +Yet, with respect to Frank, I fear this principle has led me into an +error. Among other escapes of this kind, there is one which has lately +befallen me, and for which I doubt I am reprehensible. + +Frank has written a song, in which his feelings and situation are very +strongly expressed. He left it on my music desk, by accident; for his +character is too open, too determined, to submit to artifice. The words +pleased me, I may say affected me, so very much that I was tempted to +endeavour to adapt an air to them; which, when it was written, I +several times repeated, and accompanied myself on the piano-forte. Your +brother came in just as I had ended; and, from a hint which he +purposely gave, I suspect that Frank had been listening in the +antichamber. + +The behaviour of Frank afterward confirmed the supposition. He followed +your brother, and sat down while we conversed. His whole soul seemed +absorbed; but not, as I have sometimes seen it, in melancholy. +Satisfaction, pleasure, I know not whether rapture would be too strong +a word for the expressions which were discoverable in his countenance. + +My own mind had the moment before been impassioned; and the same +sensations thrilling as it were through my veins might mislead me, and +induce me to suppose things that had no existence. Still I do not think +I was mistaken. And if not, what have I done? Have I not thoughtlessly +betrayed him into a belief that I mean to favour a passion which I +should think it criminal to encourage? + +I know not why I delay so long to explain my sentiments. It is the weak +fear of not doing justice to my cause; of not convincing, and of making +him unhappy, for whom I would sacrifice my life, every thing but +principle, to make him the very reverse. + +However this must and shall soon be ended. I do not pretend to fix a +day, but it shall not be a very distant one. I will arrange my +thoughts, collect my whole force, and make an essay which I am +convinced cannot fail, unless by my fault. The task is perhaps the most +severe I have ever yet undertaken. I will remember this, and I hope my +exertions will be adequate. + +Adieu, my dear Louisa: and, when you come to this place, imagine me for +a moment in your arms. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXXVI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +Never was fellow so pestered with malverse accidents as I am; and all +of my own contriving! I am the prince of Numskulls! The journey to the +Chateau was a project of my own; and whom should I meet here but the +Count de Beaunoir! The very same with whom I was prevented from +fighting, by this insolent son of a steward! They knew each other +instantly; and the whole story was told in the presence of Anna. My +foolish pride would never before let me mention to her that a fellow, +like him, could oblige me to put up the sword I had drawn in anger. Nor +can I now tell why I did not run him through, the instant he dared to +interfere! + +I cut a cursed ridiculous figure! But the youth is running up a long +score, which I foresee he will shortly be obliged to discharge. Damn +him! I cannot think of him with common patience! I know not why I ever +mention his name! + +I have raised another nest of wasps about my ears. The French fops, +here, all buzz and swarm around her; each making love to her, with all +the shrugs, grimaces, and ready made raptures of which he is master; +and to which I am obliged patiently to listen, or shew myself an ass. +These fellows submit to every kind of monopoly, except of woman; and to +pretend an exclusive right to her is, in their opinion, only worthy of +a barbarian. But the most forward and tormenting of them all is my +quondam friend, the Count; who is half a lunatic, but of so diverting a +kind that, ere a man has time to be angry, he either cuts a caper, +utters an absurdity, or acts some mad antic or other, that sets gravity +at defiance. + +Not that any man, who had the smallest pretensions to common sense, +could be jealous, either of him or any one of these apes. And yet +jealous I am! My dotage, Fairfax, is come very suddenly upon me; and +neither you, nor any one of the spirited fellows, whose company I used +to delight in, can despise me half so much as I despise myself--A +plebeian!--A--! I could drink gall, eat my elbows, renounce all my +gods, and turn Turk!--Ay, laugh if you will; what care I?--I have +taken a turn into the park, in search of a little cool air and common +sense. + +All the world is met here, on purpose to be merry; and merry they are +determined to be. The occasion is a marriage, in the true French style, +between my very good friend, the Marquis de Villebrun, an old fellow +upwards of sixty, and a young creature of fifteen; a child, a chit, +just taken out of a convent; in which, but for this or some such +preposterous match, she might have remained, till time should have +bestowed wrinkles and ugliness as bountifully upon her as it has done +upon her Narcissus, the bridegroom. The women flock busily round her, +in their very good-natured way, purposely to form her. The men too are +very willing to lend their aid; and, under such tuition, she cannot but +improve apace. Why are not you here, Fairfax? I have had twenty +temptations to take her under my pupillage; but that I dare not risk +the loss of this divinity. + +The purpose of our meeting however is, as I said, to be joyous. It is +teeming time therefore with every brain, that has either wit, folly, or +fancy enough to contribute to the general festivity. And various are +their inventions, and stratagems, to excite surprise, attract visitors, +and keep up the holiday farce of the scene. Musicians, painters, +artists, jugglers, sages, all whose fame, no matter of what motley +kind, has reached the public ear, and whom praise or pay can bring +together, are assembled. Poets are invited to read their productions; +and as reading well is no mean art, and writing well still much more +difficult, you may think what kind of an exhibition your every day +poetasters make. Yet, like a modern play, they are certain of +unbounded applause. + +Last night we had a _Fete Champetre_, which, it must be granted, was a +most accurate picture of nature, and the manners of rustics! The +simplicity of the shepherd life could not but be excellently +represented, by the ribbands, jewels, gauze, tiffany, and fringe, with +which we were bedaubed; and the ragouts, fricassees, spices, sauces, +wines, and _liqueurs_, with which we were regaled! Not to mention being +served upon plate, by an army of footmen! But then, it was in the open +air; and that was prodigiously pastoral! + +When we were sufficiently tired of eating and drinking, we all got up +to dance; and the mild splendour of the moon was utterly eclipsed, by +the glittering dazzle of some hundreds of lamps; red, green, yellow, +and blue; the rainbow burlesqued; all mingled, in fantastic wreaths and +forms, and suspended among the foliage; that the trees might be as fine +as ourselves! The invention, disposition, and effect, however, were +highly applauded. And, since the evil was small and the mirth great, +what could a man do, but shake his ears, kick his heels, cut capers, +laugh, sing, shout, squall, and be as mad as the best? + +To-morrow night we are to have fireworks; which will be no less rural. +I was in a splenetic humour, and indulged myself in an exclamation +against such an abominable waste of gunpowder; for which I got reproved +by my angelic monitress, who told me that, of all its uses and abuses, +this was the most innocent. + +I suppose our stay here will not be less than a fortnight. But I have +left orders for all letters to be sent after me; so that your heroic +epistles will come safe and soon to hand. + +_Which is all at this present writing from your very humble servant to +command_, + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XXXVII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +In compliance with the very warm entreaties of our kind French friends, +we have been hurried away from the metropolis sooner than was intended. +We are at present in the country, at the Chateau de Villebrun; where, +if we are not merry, it is not for the want of laughing. Our feet and +our tongues are never still. We dance, talk, sing, ride, sail, or +rather paddle about in a small but romantic lake; in short we are never +out of exercise. + +Clifton is as active as the best, and is very expert in all feats of +agility. With the French he seems to dance for the honour of his +nation; and, with me, from a desire to prove that the man who makes +pretensions to me, which he now does openly enough, is capable of every +excellence. + +You know, Louisa, how much I despise the affectation of reserve; but he +is so enterprising a youth that I am sometimes obliged, though very +unwillingly, to exert a little mild authority. + +The French, old or young, ugly or handsome, all are lovers; and are as +liberal of their amorous sighs, and addresses, as if each were an +Adonis. Clifton is well acquainted with foreign manners, or I can +perceive their gallantry to me would make him half mad. As it is, he +has been little less than rude, to one or two of the most forward of my +pretended admirers. + +I speak in the plural, as if we were rather in town than at a country +seat; and so we appear to be. The French nobility do not seem to have +any taste for solitude. Their love of variety induces them to change +the scene; but the same tumult of guests and visitors, coming and +going, is every where their delight. Whatever can attract company they +seek with avidity. I am dear to them, because I am an English beauty, +as they tell me, and all the world is desirous of paying its court to +me. + +Clifton has equal or perhaps greater merits of the same kind. And I +assure you, Louisa, the women here can pay their court more artfully +and almost as openly as the men. + +Frank is idolized by them, because he reads Shakespeare. You would +wonder to hear the praises they bestow upon him, and which indeed he +richly deserves, though not one in ten of them understands a word he +says. _C'est beau! C'est magnifique! C'est superbe! C'est sublime!_ +Such is their continual round of good-natured superlatives, which they +apply on all occasions, with a sincere desire To make others as happy +as they endeavour to persuade themselves to be. Frank treats their +gallantry with a kind of silent contempt, otherwise he would be a much +greater favourite. + +Perhaps you will be surprised to find me still guilty of +procrastination, and to hear me describing French manners, instead of +the mode in which I addressed a youth whom I have accused myself of +having, in a certain sense, misled, and kept in suspense. I can only +answer that my intentions have been frustrated; chiefly indeed by this +country excursion, though in part by other accidents. My mind has not +indulged itself in indolence; it could not; it is too deeply +interested. But, the more I have thought, the more have I been +confirmed in my former opinion. This is the hour of trial: this is the +time to prove I have some real claims to that superiority which I have +been so ready to flatter myself I possess. Were there nothing to +regret, nay were there not something to suffer, where would be the +merit of victory?--But, on the other hand, how much is there to +gain!--A mind of the first order to be retrieved!--A Clifton!--A +brother of Louisa! + +This appears to be a serious crisis. Again I must repeat how much I am +afraid of being hurried forward too fast. An error at this moment might +be fatal. Clifton is so much alarmed by the particular respect which +the Count de Beaunoir [A pleasant kind of madman, who is a visitant +here.] pays me, that he has this instant been with me, confessed a +passion for me, in all the strong and perhaps extravagant language +which custom has seemed to authorise, and has entreated, with a degree +of warmth and earnestness that could scarcely be resisted, my +permission to mention the matter immediately to Sir Arthur. + +It became me to speak without disguise. I told him I was far from +insensible of his merits; that a union with the brother of my Louisa, +if propriety, duty, and affection should happen to combine, would be +the first wish of my heart; that I should consider any affectation and +coyness as criminal; but that I was not entirely free from doubt; and, +before I could agree to the proposal being made to Sir Arthur, I +thought it necessary we should mutually compare our thoughts, and +scrutinize as it were each other to the very soul; that we might not +act rashly, in the most serious of all the private events of life.--You +know my heart, Louisa; at least as well as I myself know it; and I am +fearful of being precipitate. + +He seemed rather disappointed, and was impatient to begin the +conversation I wished for immediately. + +I told him I was unprepared; my thoughts were not sufficiently +collected; and that the hurry in which we at present exist would +scarcely allow me time to perform so necessary a duty. But, that I +might avoid the least suspicion of coquetry, if it were his desire, I +would shut myself up for a day from company, and examine whether there +were any real impediments; that I would ask myself what my hopes and +expectations were; and that I requested, or indeed expected that he +should do the same. I added however that, if he pleased, it would be +much more agreeable to me to defer this serious task, at least till we +should return to Paris. + +He repeated my words, if it would be much more agreeable to me, +impatient and uneasy though he owned he was, he must submit. + +I answered I required no submission, except to reason; to which I hoped +both he and I should always be subject. + +Love, he replied, was so disdainful of restraint that it would not +acknowledge the control of reason itself. However, by representing to +him how particular our mutual absence from the company would seem, +unless we could condescend to tell some falsehood, which I would not I +said suppose possible to either of us, I prevailed on him to subscribe +to this short delay. + +His passions and feelings are strong. One minute he seemed affected by +the approbation which, as far as I could with truth, I did not scruple +to bestow on his many superior gifts; and the next to conceive some +chagrin that I should for a moment hesitate. The noblest natures, +Louisa, are the most subject to pride, can the least endure neglect, +and are aptest to construe whatever is not directly affirmative in +their favour into injustice. + +With respect to the Count de Beaunoir, he has been more passionate, in +expressing how much he admires me, than my reserve to him can have +authorised; except so far as he follows the manners of his country, and +the impulse of his peculiar character. I suppose he means little; +though he has said much. Not that I am certain. He may be more in +earnest than I desire; but I hope he is not; because, if I am to be +your sister as well as your friend, I should be sorry that any thing +should excite a shadow of doubt in the mind of Clifton. + +The Count is one of the Provencal nobility; a whimsical creature, with +an imagination amazingly rapid, but extravagant. Your brother calls him +Count Shatter-brain; and I tell him that he forgets he has some claim +to the title himself. The Count has read the old Provencal poets, and +romance writers, till he has made himself a kind of Don Quixote; except +that he has none of the Don's delightful systematic gravity. The Count +on the contrary amuses by his want of system, and his quick, changeable +incongruity. He is in raptures one moment with what he laughs at the +next. Were it not for the mad follies of jealousy, against which we +cannot be too guarded, the manner in which he addresses, or in his own +language adores me, would be pleasant. If I wished to pass my life in +laughing, I would certainly marry the Count. + +I am called to dinner. Adieu. + +Ever and ever yours, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXXVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +My alarms, Louisa, increase; and with them my anxious wishes for an +eclaircissement with Frank. Clifton has too strongly imbibed high but +false notions of honour and revenge. His quick, apt, and versatile +talents are indubitable. He wants nothing but the power to curb and +regulate his passions, to render him all that his generous and +excellent sister could desire. But at present his sensibility is too +great. He scarcely can brook the slightest tokens of disapprobation. He +is rather too firmly persuaded that he deserves applause, and +admiration; and that reproof he scarcely can deserve: or, if he did, to +submit to it he imagines would be dishonourable. + +Frank and he behave more than usually cool to each other: I know not +why, unless it has been occasioned by an incident which happened +yesterday. Clifton has bought an English hunter, from one of his +countrymen at Paris, which he was exhibiting to his French friends, +whose horsemanship is very different from ours, and who were surprised +to see him ride so fearlessly over gates and other impediments. They +continued their airing in the park of Villebrun, and turned round to a +kind of haha, which was both deep and wide, and about half full of +water, by the side of which they saw a party of ladies standing, and me +among the rest. Frank was with us. + +One of the gentlemen asked whether the horse could leap over the haha: +to which Clifton made no answer, but immediately clapped spurs to his +hunter, and over he flew. The whole company, gentlemen and ladies, +broke out into exclamations of surprise; and Clifton turned his horse's +head round, and regained his former place. + +While they were wondering, Frank Henley happened to make if a matter of +doubt whether a man or a horse could leap the farthest; and Clifton, +continually in the habit of contending with Frank, said it was +ridiculous to start such an argument, unless he would first shew that +he himself could make the same leap. Frank, piqued in his turn, retired +a few yards; and, without pulling off his coat or deigning to leap, he +made a short run and a hop and sprung over. + +You may imagine that the kind and good folks, who love to be +astonished, and still more to tell the greatness of their astonishment, +were manifold in their interjections. Frank, in order to rejoin the +company, was obliged a second time to cross the haha; which he did with +the same safety and truly amazing agility as he had done before. + +Clifton, indulging his wrong habits, though I have no doubt admiring +Frank as much as the rest, told him in a kind of sarcastic banter that, +though he could not prove the equality of mankind, he had at least +proved himself equal to a horse. To which Frank replied he was +mistaken; for that he had shewn himself equal to the horse and his +rider. + +This answer I fear dwells upon the mind of Clifton; and I scarcely +myself can tell whether it were or were not worthy of Frank. How can +Clifton be wilfully blind to such courage, rectitude of heart, +understanding and genius? + +The stern unrelenting fortitude of Frank, in the cause of justice, and +some symptoms of violence in the impetuous Clifton, have inspired me +with apprehensions; and have induced me to behave with more reserve and +coldness to Frank than I ever before assumed. + +Yet, Louisa, my heart is wrung to see the effect it produces. He has a +mind of such discriminating power, such magnanimity, that an injury to +it is a deep, a double sin; and every look, every action testify that +he thinks himself injured, by the distance with which I behave. Oh +that he himself might be impelled to begin the subject with which my +mind is labouring! + +This is wrong; I am ashamed of my own cowardice. Yet would there not be +something terrifying in a formal appointment, to tell him what it seems +must be told?--Yes, Louisa, must--And is there not danger he should +think me severe; nay unjust?--Would it were over!--I hope he will not +think so of me!--It must be done!--Must!--Must!-- + +Indeed, Louisa, I could be a very woman--But I will not!--No, no!--It +is passed--I have put my handkerchief to my eyes and it is gone--I have +repressed an obstinate heaving of the heart-- + +Let her blame me, if I deserve it, but my Louisa must see me as I +am--Yet I will conquer--Be sure I will--But I must not sing his song +any more! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XXXIX + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_. + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +Oh, my friend, my heart is torn! I am on the rack! My thoughts are all +tumult! My passions rebel! I seem to have yielded up the best +prerogative of man, reason; and to have admitted revolt, anarchy, and +desolation! + +Her manner is changed! Wholly! She is become cold, reserved; has marked +me out for neglect; smiles on me no more; not a sigh escapes her. And +why? What have I done? I am unconscious. Have I been too presuming? +Perhaps so. But why did her looks never till now speak her meaning as +intelligibly as they do at present? I could not then have mistaken +them. Why, till now, has she seemed to regard me with that sweet +amenity which was so flattering to hope? + +Perhaps, in the distraction of my thoughts, I am unjust to her. And +shall I, pretending as I do to love so pure, shall I become her +accuser? What if she meant no more than that commerce of grateful +kindness, which knits together human society, and renders it +delightful? + +Yet this sudden change! So evidently intentional! The smiles too which +she bestows on the brother of Louisa, and the haughty airs of triumph +which he assumes, what can these be? Confident in himself, ardent in +his desires, unchecked by those fears which are the offspring of true +delicacy, his passions violent, and his pride almost insufferable, he +thinks he loves. But he is ignorant of the alarms, the tremors, the +'fitful fevers' of love. + +I cannot endure my present torture. I must seek a desperate end to it, +by explanation. Why do I delay? Coward that I am! What worse can happen +than despair? And is not despair itself preferable to that worst of +fiends, suspense? What do I mean by despair? Would I, being rejected, +desert my duty, sink into self, and poorly linger in wretchedness; or +basely put an end to existence? Violently end that which ought to be +devoted to the good of others?--How did so infernal a thought enter my +mind?--Can I be so very lost a thing?--No!--Despair is something +confused, something horrid: I know not what. It may intrude upon me, at +black and dismal intervals; but it shall not overwhelm me. I will shake +it off. I will meet my destiny. + +The clouds are gathering; the storm approaches; I hear the distant +thunder rolling; this way it drives; it points at me; it must suddenly +burst! Be it so. Grant me but the spirit of a man, and I yet shall +brave its fury. If I am a poor braggart, a half believer in virtue, or +virtuous only in words, the feeble victim then must justly perish. + +I cannot endure my torments! Cannot, because there is a way to end +them. It shall be done. + +I blush to read, blush to recollect the rhapsodies of my own perturbed +mind! Madman! 'Tis continually thus. Day after day I proceed, +reasoning, reproving, doubting, wishing, believing and despairing, +alternately. + +Once again, where is this strange impossibility?--In what does it +consist?--Are we not both human beings?--What law of Nature has placed +her beyond my hopes?--What is rank? Does it imply superiority of mind? +Or is there any other superiority?--Am I not a man?--And who is more? +Have the titled earned their dignities by any proofs of exalted virtue? +Were not these dignities things of accident, in which the owners had no +share, and of which they are generally unworthy? And shall hope be thus +cowed and killed, without my daring to exert the first and most +unalienable of the rights of man, freedom of thought? Shall I not +examine what these high distinctions truly are, of which the bearers +are so vain? + +This Clifton--! Thou knowest not how he treats me. And can she approve, +can she second his injustice?--Surely not!--Yet does she not dedicate +her smiles to him, her conversation, her time? Does she not shun me, +discountenance me, and reprove me, by her silence and her averted eyes? + +Once again it must and shall have an end!--I have repeated this too +often; but my next shall shew thee I am at length determined. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XL + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +An affair has just happened in this country which is the universal +topic of conversation. The daughter of a noble and wealthy family has +fallen in love with a man of uncommon learning, science, and genius, +but a musician. In consequence of his great skill and reputation, he +was employed to teach her music; and she it appears was too sensible, +at least for the decorum of our present manners, of his worth. + +The ability to discover his merit implies merit in herself, and the +musician and lady were equally enamoured of each other. A plan for +elopement consequently was laid, and put in execution; but not +effectually, for, before the lovers had passed the confines of the +kingdom, they were pursued and overtaken. + +The musician knew his own personal danger, and by a stratagem +fortunately escaped from his bonds, and attained a place of safety. The +lady was brought back; and, from the severity of the French laws and +the supposed atrocity of the crime, it is generally affirmed that the +musician, notwithstanding his talents and fame, had he been secured, +would have been executed. + +I have mentioned this adventure, my dear Louisa, not so much for its +own sake as for what relates to myself. It was natural that I should +feel compassion for mistakes, if mistakes they be, which have so great +an affinity to virtue; and that I should plead for the lovers, and +against the barbarity of laws so unjust and inhuman. For it is certain +that, had not the musician been put to death, his least punishment +would have been perpetual imprisonment. + +In a former letter I mentioned the increasing alarms of Sir Arthur; and +this was a fit opportunity for him to shew how very serious and great +those alarms are. He opposed me, while I argued in behalf of the +lovers, with what might in him be called violence; affirmed it was a +crime for which no merit or genius could compensate; highly applauded +those wholesome laws that prevented such crimes, and preserved the +honour of noble families from attaint; lamented the want of similar +laws in England; and spoke of the conduct of the young lady with a +degree of bitterness which from him was unusual. In fine, the spirit of +his whole discourse was evidently to warn me, and explicitly to declare +what his opinions on this subject are. + +Had I before wanted conviction, he fully convinced me, on this +occasion, of the impossibility of any union between me and Frank +Henley; at least without sacrificing the felicity of my father and my +family, and from being generally and sincerely beloved by them, +rendering myself the object of eternal reproach, and almost of hatred. + +Previous to this conversation, I was uneasy at the state of my own +mind, and particularly at what I suppose to be the state of Mr. +Henley's; and this uneasiness is at present very much increased. + +Once again, Louisa, it must immediately have an end. I can support it +no longer. I must be firm. My half-staggering resolution is now +fixed. I cannot, must not doubt. My father and family must not be +sacrificed to speculative probabilities. Frank is the most deserving +of mankind; and that it should be a duty to reject the most deserving +of mankind, as the friend of my life, my better self, my husband, is +strange; but I am nevertheless convinced that a duty it is. Yes; the +conflicts of doubt are over. I must and will persevere. + +Poor Frank! To be guilty of injustice to a nature so noble, to wring a +heart so generous, and to neglect desert so unequalled, is indeed a +killing thought! But the stern the unrelenting dictates of necessity +must be obeyed. The neglect the injustice and the cruelty are the +world's, not mine: my heart disavows them, revolts at them, detests +them! + +Heaven bless my Louisa, and give her superior prudence to guard and +preserve her from these too strong susceptibilities! May the angel of +fortitude never forsake her, as she seems half inclined to do her poor. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +END OF VOLUME II + + + + +VOLUME III + + + +LETTER XLI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +At last, my dear Louisa, the charm is broken: the spell of silence is +dissolved. Incapable any longer of restraint, passion has burst its +bounds, and strong though the contest was, victory has declared for +reason. + +My change of behaviour has produced this effect. Not that I applaud +myself: on the contrary, I am far from pleased with my own want of +fortitude. I have even assumed an austerity which I did not feel. + +I do not mean to say that all appearances, relative to myself, were +false. No. I was uneasy; desirous to speak, desirous that he should +speak, and could accomplish neither. I accused myself of having given +hopes that were seductive, and wished to retract. In short, I have not +been altogether so consistent as I ought to be; as my letters to you, +my friend, will witness. + +Various little incidents preceded and indeed helped to produce this +swell and overflow of the heart, and the eclaircissement that followed. +In the morning at breakfast, Frank took the cakes I usually eat to hand +to me; and Clifton, whose watchful spirit is ever alert, caught up a +plate of bread and butter, to offer me at the same instant. His looks +shewed he expected the preference. I was sorry for it, and paused for a +moment. At last the principle of not encouraging Frank prevailed, and I +took some bread and butter from Clifton. It was a repetition of +slights, which Frank had lately met with, and he felt it; yet he bowed +with a tolerable grace, and put down his plate. + +He soon after quitted the room, but returned unperceived by me. The +young marchioness had breakfasted, and retired to her toilet; where +some of the gentlemen were attending her. She had left a snuff-box of +considerable value with me, which I had forgotten to return; and, with +that kind of sportive cheerfulness which I rather encourage than +repress, I called--'Here! Where are all my esquires? I want a +messenger.' + +Clifton heard me, and Frank was unexpectedly at my elbow. Had I known +it, I should not have spoken so thoughtlessly. Frank came forward and +bowed. Clifton called--'Here am I, ready, fair lady, to execute your +behests.' + +I was a second time embarrassed. After a short hesitation, I +said--'No--I have changed my mind.' + +Frank retired; but Clifton advanced, with his usual gaiety, +answering,--'Nay, nay! I have not earned half a crown yet this morning, +and I must not be cheated of my fare.' I would still have refused, but +I perceived Clifton began to look serious, and I said to him--'Well, +well, good man, here then, take this snuff-box to the marchioness, she +may want it: but do not blunder, and break it; for if you do I shall +dismiss you my service. Recollect the picture in the lid, set with +diamonds!' + +It was fated to be a day of mortification to Frank. His complaisance +had induced him to comply with the request of the marchioness, that he +would read one of the mad scenes in Lear, though he knew she had not +the least acquaintance with the English language. But she wanted +amusement, and was pleased to mark the progress of the passions; which +I never saw so distinctly and highly expressed as in his countenance, +when he reads Shakespeare. + +I happened to come into her apartment, for the French are delightfully +easy of access, and the reading was instantly interrupted. I was the +very person she wanted to see. How should we spend the evening? The +country was horribly dull! There had been no new visitors these two +days! Should we have a dance? I gave my assent, and away she ran to +tell every body. + +I followed; Frank came after me, and with some reluctance, foreboding a +repulse, asked whether he should have the pleasure to dance with me. +His manner and the foregone circumstances made me guess his question +before he spoke. My answer was--'I have just made a promise to myself +that I will dance with Mr. Clifton.' It was true: the thought had +passed through my mind. + +Mr. Clifton, madam! + +Yes-- + +You--you-- + +I have not seen Mr. Clifton? Right--But I said I had made the promise +to _myself_. + +Poor Frank could contain no longer! I see, madam, said he, I am +despised; and I deserve contempt; I crouch to it, I invite it, and have +obtained a full portion of it--Yet why?--What have I done?--Why is this +sudden change?--The false glitter that deceives mankind then is +irresistible!--But surely, madam, justice is as much my due as if my +name were Clifton. Spurn me, trample on me, when I sully myself by vice +and infamy! But till then I should once have hoped to have escaped +being humbled in the dust, by one whom I regarded as the most +benignant, as well as the most deserving and equitable of earthly +creatures! + +This is indeed a heavy charge: and I am afraid much of it is too true. +Here is company coming. I am sorry I cannot answer it immediately. + +I can suffer any thing rather than exist under my present tortures. +Will you favour me so far, madam, as to grant me half an hour's +hearing? + +Willingly. It is what I wish. Come to my apartment after dinner. + +Clifton came up, and I have no doubt read in our countenances that +something more than common had passed. Indeed I perceived it, or +thought so; but his imagination took another turn, in consequence of my +informing him, that I had been just telling Frank I had promised myself +to be his (Clifton's) partner. He thanked me, his countenance shewed it +as well as his words, for my kindness. He was coming, he said, to +petition, the instant he had heard of the dance. But still he looked at +Frank, as if he thought it strange that I should condescend to account +to him for my thoughts and promises. + +Dinner time came, and we sat down to table. But the mind is sometimes +too busy to attend to the appetites. I and Frank ate but little. He +rose first from table, that he might not seem to follow me. His +delicacy never slumbers. I took the first opportunity to retire. Frank +was presently with me, and our dialogue began. The struggle of the +feelings ordained that I should be the first speaker. + +I have been thinking very seriously, Frank, of what you said to me this +morning. + +Would to heaven you could forget it, madam! + +Why so? + +I was unjust! A madman! A vain fool! An idiot!--Pardon this rude +vehemence, but I cannot forgive myself for having been so ready to +accuse one whom--! I cannot speak my feelings!--I have deserted +myself!--I am no longer the creature of reason, but the child of +passion!--My mind is all tumult, all incongruity! + +You wrong yourself. The error has been mutual, or rather I have been +much the most to blame. I am very sensible of, and indeed very sorry +for my mistake--Indeed I am--I perceived you indulging hopes that +cannot be realized, and-- + +Cannot, madam? + +Never!--I can see you think yourself despised; but you do yourself +great wrong. + +My mind is so disturbed, by the abrupt and absurd folly with which I +accused you, unheard, this morning, that it is less now in a state to +do my cause justice than at any other time--Still I will be a man--Your +word, madam, was--Cannot!-- + +It was. + +Permit me to ask, is it person--? + +No--certainly not. Person would with me be always a distant +consideration. [You, Louisa, know how very far from exceptionable the +person of Frank is, if that were any part of the question.] + +You are no flatterer, madam, and you have thought proper occasionally +to express your approbation of my morals and mind. + +Yet my expressions have never equalled my feelings!--Never! + +Then, madam, where is the impossibility? In what does it consist? The +world may think meanly of me, for the want of what I myself hold in +contempt: but surely you cannot join in the world's injustice? + +I cannot think meanly of you. + +I have no titles. I am what pride calls nobody: the son of a man who +came pennyless into the service of your family; in which to my infinite +grief he has grown rich. I would rather starve than acquire opulence by +the efforts of cunning, flattery, and avarice; and if I blush for any +thing, relative to family, it is for that. I am either above or below +the wish of being what is insolently called well born. + +You confound, or rather you do not separate, two things which are very +distinct; that which I think of you, and that which the world would +think of me, were I to encourage hopes which you would have me indulge. + +Your actions, madam, shew how much and how properly you disregard the +world's opinion. + +But I do not disregard the effects which that opinion may have, upon +the happiness of my father, my family, myself, and my husband, if ever +I should marry. + +If truth and justice require it, madam, even all these ought to be +disregarded. + +Indubitably. + +Did I know a man, upon the face of the earth, who had a still deeper +sense of your high qualities and virtues than I have, who understood +them more intimately, would study them, emulate them more, and profit +better by them, I have confidence enough in myself to say I would +resign you without repining. But, when I think on the union between +mind and mind--the aggregate--! I want language, madam--! + +I understand you. + +When I reflect on the wondrous happiness we might enjoy, while mutually +exerting ourselves in the general cause of virtue, I confess the +thought of renouncing so much bliss, or rather such a duty to myself +and the world, is excruciating torture. + +Your idea of living for the cause of virtue delights me; it is in full +concord with my own. But whether that great cause would best be +promoted by our union, or not, is a question which we are incapable of +determining: though I think probabilities are for the negative. Facts +and observation have given me reason to believe that the too easy +gratification of our desires is pernicious to mind; and that it +acquires vigour and elasticity from opposition. + +And would you then upon principle, madam, marry a man whom you must +despise? + +No, not despise. If indeed I were all I could wish to be, I am +persuaded I should despise no one. I should endeavour to instruct the +ignorant, and reform the erroneous. However, I will tell you what sort +of a man I should wish to marry. First he must be a person of whom no +prejudice, no mistake of any kind, should induce the world, that is, +the persons nearest and most connected with me in the world, to think +meanly--Shall I be cited by the thoughtless, the simple, and the +perverse, in justification of their own improper conduct?--You cannot +wish it, Frank!--Nor is this the most alarming fear--My friends!--My +relations!--My father!--To incur a father's reproach for having +dishonoured his family were fearful: but to meet, to merit, to live +under his curse!--God of heaven forbid! + +Must we then never dare to counteract mistake? Must mind, though +enlightened by truth, submit to be the eternal slave of error?--What is +there that is thus dreadful, madam, in the curse of prejudice? Have not +the greatest and the wisest of mankind been cursed by ignorance? + +It is not the curse itself that is terrible, but the torture of the +person's mind by whom it is uttered!--Nor is it the torture of a +minute, or a day, but of years!--His child, his beloved child, on whom +his hopes and heart were fixed, to whom he looked for all the bliss of +filial obedience, all the energies of virtue, and all the effusions of +affection, to see himself deserted by her, unfeelingly deserted, +plunged in sorrows unutterable, eternally dishonoured, the index and +the bye-word of scandal, scoffed at for the fault of her whom his fond +and fatherly reveries had painted faultless, whispered out of society +because of the shame of her in whom he gloried, and I this child! + +Were the conflict what your imagination has figured it, madam, your +terrors would be just--But I have thought deeply on it, and know that +your very virtues misguide you. It would not be torture, nor would it +be eternal--On the contrary, madam, I, poor as I am in the esteem of an +arrogant world, I proudly affirm it would be the less and not the +greater evil. + +You mistake!--Indeed, Frank, you mistake!--The fear of poverty, the +sneers of the world, ignominy itself, were the pain inflicted but +confined to me, I would despise. But to stretch my father upon the +rack, and with him every creature that loves me, even you yourself!--It +must not be!--It must not be! + +I too fatally perceive, madam, your mind is subjected by these phantoms +of fear. + +No, no--not phantoms; real existences; the palpable beings of +reason!--Beside what influence have I in the world, except over my +friends and family? And shall I renounce this little influence, this +only power of doing good, in order to gratify my own passions, by +making myself the outcast of that family and of that world to whom it +is my ambition to live an example?--My family and the world are +prejudiced and unjust: I know it. But where is the remedy? Can we work +miracles? Will their prejudices vanish at our bidding?--I have already +mortally offended the most powerful of my relations, Lord Fitz-Allen, +by refusing a foolish peer of his recommendation. He is my maternal +uncle; proud, prejudiced, and unforgiving. Previous to this refusal I +was the only person in our family whom he condescended to notice. He +prophesied, in the spleen of passion, I should soon bring shame on my +family; and I as boldly retorted I would never dishonour the name of +St. Ives--I spoke in their own idiom, and meant to be so +understood--Recollect all this!--Be firm, be just to yourself and +me!--Indeed indeed, Frank, it is not my heart that refuses you; it is +my understanding; it is principle; it is a determination not to do that +which my reason cannot justify--Join with me, Frank--Resolve--Give me +your hand--Let us disdain to set mankind an example which would indeed +be a virtuous and a good one, were all the conditions understood; but +which, under the appearances it would assume, would be criminal in the +extreme. + +My hand and heart, madam, are everlastingly yours: and it is because +this heart yearns to set the world an example, higher infinitely than +that which you propose, that thus I plead!--This opportunity is my +first and last--I read my doom--Bear with me therefore while I declare +my sensations and my thoughts.--The passion I feel is as unlike what is +usually meant by love as day to night, grace to deformity, or truth to +falsehood. It is not your fine form, madam, supremely beautiful though +you are, which I love. At least I love it only as an excellent part of +a divine whole. It is your other, your better, your more heavenly self, +to which I have dared to aspire. I claim relationship to your mind; and +again declare I think my claims have a right, which none of the false +distinctions of men can supersede. Think then, madam, again I conjure +you, think ere you decide.--If the union of two people whose pure love, +founded on an unerring conviction of mutual worth, might promise the +reality of that heaven of which the world delights to dream; whose +souls, both burning with the same ardour to attain and to diffuse +excellence, would mingle and act with incessant energy, who, having +risen superior to the mistakes of mankind, would disseminate the same +spirit of truth, the same internal peace, the same happiness, the same +virtues which they themselves possess among thousands; who would +admire, animate, emulate each other; whose wishes, efforts, and +principles would all combine to one great end, the general good; who, +being desirous only to dispense blessings, could not fail to enjoy; if +a union like this be not strictly conformable to the laws of eternal +truth, or if there be any arguments, any perils, any terrors which +ought to annul such a union, I confess that the arguments, the perils, +the terrors, and eternal truth itself are equally unknown to me. + +We paused for a moment. The beauty, force, and grandeur of the picture +he had drawn staggered me. Yet it was but a repetition of what had +frequently presented itself to my mind, in colours almost as vivid as +those with which he painted. I had but one answer, and replied-- + +The world!--My family!--My father!--I cannot encounter the malediction +of a father!--What! Behold him in an agony of cursing his +child?--Imagination shudders and shrinks from the guilty picture with +horror!--I cannot!--I cannot!--It must not be!--To foresee this misery +so clearly as I do, and yet to seek it, would surely be detestable +guilt! + +Again we paused--He perceived my terrors were too violent to cede to +any efforts of supposed reason. His countenance changed; the energy of +argument disappeared, and was succeeded by all the tenderness of +passion. The decisive moment, the moment of trial was come. His +features softened into that form which never yet failed to melt the +heart, and he thus continued. + +To the scorn of vice, the scoffs of ignorance, the usurpations of the +presuming, and the contumelies of the proud, I have patiently +submitted: but to find my great and as I thought infallible support +wrested from me; to perceive that divine essence which I imagined too +much a part of myself to do me wrong, overlooking me; rejecting me; +dead to those sensations which I thought mutually pervaded and filled +our hearts; to hear her, whom of all beings on earth I thought myself +most akin to, disclaim me; positively, persisting, un-- + +Unjustly?--Was that the word, Frank?--Surely not unjustly!--Oh, surely +not! + +And could those heavenly those heart-winning condescensions on which I +founded my hopes be all illusory?--Could they?--Did I dream that your +soul held willing intercourse with mine, beaming divine intelligence +upon me? Was it all a vision when I thought I heard you pronounce the +ecstatic sentence--_You could love me if I would let you?_ + +No; it was real. I revoke nothing that I have said or done. Do not, +Frank, for the love of truth and justice do not think me insensible of +your excellence, dead to your virtues, or blind to mind and merit which +I never yet saw equalled!--Think not it is pride, or base insensibility +of your worth! Where is the day in which that worth has not increased +upon me?--Unjust to you?--Oh!--No, no, no!--My heart bleeds at the +thought!--No!--It is my love of you, my love of your virtues, your +principles, and these alone are lovely, which has rendered me thus +inflexible. If any thing could make you dearer to me than you are, it +must be weakness; it must be something which neither you nor I ought to +approve. All the good, or rather all the opportunities of doing good +which mortal or immortal being can enjoy do I wish you! Oh that I had +prayers potent enough to draw down blessings on you!--Love +you?--Yes!--The very idea bursts into passion. [The tears, Louisa, were +streaming down my cheeks.] Why should you doubt of all the affection +which virtue can bestow? Do you not deserve it?--Oh yes!--Love you in +the manner you could wish I must not, dare not, ought not: but, as I +ought, I love you infinitely! Ay, dear, dear Frank, as I ought, +infinitely! + +Louisa!--Blame me if thou wilt--But I kissed him!--The chastity of my +thoughts defied misconstruction, and the purity of the will sanctified +the extravagance of the act. A daring enthusiasm seized me. I beheld +his passions struggling to attain the very pinnacle of excellence. I +wished to confirm the noble emulation, to convince him how different +the pure love of mind might be from the meaner love of passion, and I +kissed him! I find my affections, my sensibilities, peculiarly liable +to these strong sallies. Perhaps all minds of a certain texture are +subject to such rapid and almost resistless emotions; and whether they +ought to be encouraged or counteracted I have not yet discovered. But +the circumstance, unexpected and strange as it was, suffered no wrong +interpretation in the dignified soul of Frank. With all the ardour of +affection, but chastened by every token of delicacy, he clasped me in +his arms, returned my kiss, then sunk down on one knee, and +exclaimed--Now let me die!-- + +After a moment's pause, I answered--No, Frank! Live! Live to be a +blessing to the world, and an honour to the human race! + +I took a turn to the window, and after having calmed the too much of +feeling which I had suffered to grow upon me, I continued the +conversation. + +I hope, Frank, we now understand each other; and that, as this is the +first, so it will be the last contention of the passions in which we +shall indulge ourselves. + +Madam, though _I still think, nay feel a certainty of conviction, that +you act from mistaken principles_, yet you support what you are +persuaded is truth with such high such self-denying virtue, that not to +applaud, not to imitate you would be contemptible. You have and ought +to have a will of your own. You practise what you believe to be the +severest precepts of duty, with more than human fortitude. You resolve, +in this particular, not to offend the prejudices of your family, and +the world. I submit. To indulge sensibility but a little were to be +heart-broken! But no personal grief can authorise me in deserting the +post I am placed in; nor palliate the crime of neglecting its duties. +_To the end of time I shall persist in thinking you mine by right_; but +I will never trouble you more with an assertion of that +right--Never!--Unless some new and unexpected claim should spring up, +of which I see no probability. + +He bowed and was retiring. + +Stay, Frank, I have something more to say to you--I have a requisition +to make which after what has passed would to common minds appear +unfeeling and almost capricious cruelty; but I have no fear that yours +should be liable to this mistake. Recollect but who and what you are, +remember what are the best purposes of existence, and the noblest +efforts of mind, and then refuse me if you can--I have formed a +project, and call upon you for aid--Cannot you guess? + +Mr. Clifton, madam--? + +Yes. + +I fear it is a dangerous one; and, whether my fears originate in +selfishness or in penetration, they must be spoken. Yes, madam, I must +warn you that the passions of Mr. Clifton are, in my opinion, much more +alarming than the resentment of your father. + +But they are alarming only to myself. And ought danger to deter me? + +Not if the good you design be practicable. + +And what is impracticable, where the will is resolved? + +Perhaps nothing--But the effort must be great, must be uncommon. + +Has he not a mind worthy of such an effort? Would not his powers highly +honour truth and virtue? + +They would. + +Will not you give me your assistance? + +I would, madam, most willingly, would he but permit me. But I am his +antipathy; a something noxious; an evil augury. + +You have been particular in your attentions to me. + +And must those attentions cease, madam? + +They must be moderated; they must be cool, dispassionate, and then they +will not alarm.--I cannot possibly be deceived in supposing it a duty, +an indispensable duty to restore the mind of Clifton to its true +station. If I fail, the fault must be my own. I am but young, yet many +men have addressed me with the commonplace language of admiration, +love, and I know not what; or rather they knew not what; and, except +yourself, Frank, I have not met with one from whom half so much might +be hoped as from Clifton. He is the brother of my bosom friend. Surely, +Frank, it is a worthy task--Join with me!--There is but one thing I +fear. Clifton is haughty and intemperate. Are you a duellist, Frank? + +No, madam. + +Then you would not fight a duel? + +Never, madam, no provocation, not the brand of cowardice itself, shall +ever induce roe to be guilty of such a crime. + +Frank!--Oh excellent, noble youth! + +Here, Louisa, our conversation abruptly ended. The company had risen +from table, and we heard them in the corridor. I requested him to +retire, and he instantly obeyed. + +Oh! Louisa, with what sensations did he leave my mind glowing!--His +conviction equals certainty, _that I act from mistaken principles!--_To +the end of time he shall persist in thinking me his by right!_--Can the +power of language afford words more strong, more positive, more +pointed?--How unjust have I been to my cause!--For surely I cannot be +in an error!--'Tis afflicting, 'tis painful, nay it is almost +terrifying to remember!--_Persist to the end of time?_--Why did I not +think more deeply?--I had a dark kind of dread that I should fail!--It +cannot be the fault of my cause!--Wrong him!--Guilty of injustice to +him!--Surely, surely, I hope not!--What! Become an example to the +feeble and the foolish, for having indulged my passions and neglected +my duties?--I?--His mind had formed a favourite plan, and could I +expect it should be instantly relinquished?--I cannot conceive torment +equal to the idea of doing him wrong! Him?--Again and again I hope not! +I hope not! I hope not! + +Then the kiss, Louisa? Did I or did I not do right, in shewing him how +truly I admire and love his virtues? Was I or was I not guilty of any +crime, when, in the very acme of the passions, I so totally disregarded +the customs of the world? Or rather, for that is the true question, +could it produce any other effect than that which I intended? I am +persuaded it could not. Nor, blame me who will, do I repent. And yet, +my friend, if you should think it wrong, I confess I should then feel a +pang which I should be glad not to deserve. But be sincere. Though I +need not warn you. No false pity can or ought to induce you to desert +the cause of truth. + +Adieu--My mind is not so much at its ease as I hoped, from this +conversation; but at all times, and in all tempers, believe me to be, +ever and ever, + +Your own dear + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XLII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +All is over!--My hopes are at an end!--I am awakened from a dream, in +which pain and pleasure were mingled to such excess as to render its +continuance impossible. + +Nor is this all. This trial, severe as it was, did not suffice. To the +destruction of hope has been added the assault of insolence, +accompanied with a portion of obloquy which heart scarcely can +sustain--Oh, this Clifton!--But--Patience! + +Yet let me do her justice. Mistaken though I am sure she is, the +motives of her conduct are so pure that even mistake itself is lovely +in her; and assumes all the energy, all the dignity of virtue. Oh what +a soul is hers! Her own passions, the passions of others, when she acts +and speaks, are all in subjection to principle. Yes, Oliver, of one +thing at least she has convinced me: she has taught me, or rather made +me feel, how poor a thing it is to be the slave of desire. + +Not that I do not still adore her!--Ay, more than ever adore! But from +henceforth my adoration shall be worthy of herself, and not degrading +to me. From her I have learned what true love is; and the lesson is +engraven on my heart. She can consider personal gratification with +apathy, yet burn with a martyr's zeal for the promotion of universal +good. + +And shall I not rise equal to the bright example which she has set me? +Shall I admire yet not imitate? + +Did she despise me? Did she reject me for my own sake?--No!--All the +affection which mind can feel for mind she has avowed for me! And shall +I grieve because another may be more happy?--And why more?--In +what?--Is not the union of souls the first the most permanent of all +alliances? That union is mine! No power can shake it. She openly +acknowledges it; and has done, daily, hourly, in every word, in every +action. Whither then would my wishes wander? + +Oliver, I am a man, and subject to the shakes and agues of his fragile +nature!--Yet it is a poor, a wretched plea; a foolish, and a false +plea. Man is weak because he is willing to be weak. He crouches to the +whip, and like a coward pities while he lashes himself. + +His wilful phrensy he calls irresistible, and weeps for the torments +which he himself inflicts. + +But once again this Clifton!--Read and tell me how I ought to act--I +have received a blow from him, Oliver!--Yes, have tamely submitted to +receive a blow!-- + +What intolerable prejudices are these! Why does my heart rebel so +sternly, at what virtue so positively approves? + +I had just left her; had that instant been rejected by her for his +sake; had been summoned to aid her, in weeding out error from his mind. +She shewed me it was a noble task, and communicated to me her own +divine ardour. Yes, Oliver; I came from her, with a warmed and animated +heart; participating all her zeal. The most rigid, the most painful of +all abstinence was demanded from me; but should I shrink from a duty +because I pity or because I love myself? No. Such pusillanimity were +death to virtue. I left her, while my thoughts glowed with the ardour +of emulating her heroism; and burned to do him all the good which she +had projected. + +He was at the end of the corridor, and saw me quit her apartment. His +hot spirit caught the alarm instantaneously, and blazed in his +countenance. He accosted me-- + +So, sir! You are very familiar with that lady! What right have you to +intrude into her apartments? + +When she herself desires me, sir, I have a right. + +She desire you! 'Tis false! + +Sir? + +'Tis false, sir! + +False? + +Yes, sir. And falsehood deserves to be chastised! + +Chastised? [It is in vain, Oliver, to endeavour to conceal the truth +from myself; my folly incurred its own punishment--I repeat] Chastised? +[I was lunatic enough to walk up to him, with a ridiculous and +despicable air of defiance. He re-echoed my words, and instantly in +contempt struck me on the cheek with the back of his hand.] + +Yes, sir; chastised! + +His rashness restored me to some sense of the farcical heroism which I +had been aping. I hurried from him, without another word. + +Oliver, I can conceive nothing more painful than this wresting, this +tearing of passion from its purpose. + +I walked a few minutes to calm my thoughts, and wrote him the following +note. + + +Sir, + +'I feel at present the humility of my situation: but not from your +blow; for that has brought me to myself, not humbled me. No man can be +degraded by another; it must be his own act: and you have degraded +yourself, not me. My error is in having, for a moment, yielded to the +impulse of passion. If you think I fear you, continue to think so; till +I can shew my forbearance is from a better motive. Cowardice might make +me kill you; but true courage will teach me calmly to hear the world +call me coward, rather than commit an act so wicked, so abhorred, as +that of taking or throwing away life. I wished to seek your friendship; +and even now I will not shun you. Make the world imagine me a coward; +imagine me one yourself, if you can. I will live under the supposed +obloquy; and leave the tenor of my life to shew whether living be the +act of fear, or of reason. I pardon you, sir, and leave you to pardon +yourself. + +F. HENLEY + + +My forbearance and this letter mitigated my sense of pain. Yet I am +very ill satisfied with myself. Am I so easily to be moved? 'Tis true +the scene I had just quitted was fermenting, as it were, in my veins, +and shaking my whole system. + +What is worse, I am child enough to be tormented, in my own despite, by +the recollection of having received a blow! And why? In many countries, +and even in my own, among the class in which I was born, the stigma is +none, or trifling--Stigma? Absurd!--Cowardice!--Murder!--If vanity were +ever becoming, I have perhaps more reason to be vain, considering the +danger to which I had exposed myself, of this than of any act of my +life. + +Well, well, Oliver--I hope these agitations are over; and that from +this time thou wilt begin to think better of me. + +I communicate my whole thoughts to thee. If the experiments made upon +my mind can be of any use to thine, my letters will then answer the +best of the purposes for which they are written. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XLIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +Your last, Fairfax, pleased me. You say truly, and I like your remark, +'Such fellows ought not to claim a moment's attention from me. I should +brush them away, like flies from my forehead, when they presume to +tease or settle themselves upon me.' I have taken your advice, and +fly-slapped the wasp that was more willing than able to sting. + +I have lately grown dissatisfied with myself; I know not how, or why. I +suspect this youth, in part, has made me so, with his visionary +morality. I hate such sermonizing. Who has a right to control me? Whose +slave am I? I was born to rule, not to be ruled. My appetites are keen, +my desires vast, and I would enjoy. Why else am I here? Delay to me is +insufferable; suspense distracts me; and the possibility that another +should be preferred to myself drives me mad! I too heartily despise the +tame creatures, that crawl upon the earth, to suffer opposition from +them. Who would be braved by bats and beetles, buzzing in his ears? + +I never before saw a woman whom any temptation could have induced me to +marry; and now I have found one I am troubled with doubts, infested +with fears, and subjected to the intolerable penance of +procrastination. Impeded in my course; and by what? Why, I am told to +scrutinize myself, and to discover whether I am quite as perfect as it +is necessary I should be! 'Tis unjust! 'Tis unkind! I did not doubt of +her perfections; and both love and pride, equally jealous of their +honour, demand that mine should have been taken for granted. + +The time has been when this would have been revenged. But I seem to be +half subdued. My fierce spirit, before so untameable, declines +contending with her. Not but I frequently feel it struggling with +suffocation, kindling, and again ready to burst into a more furious +blaze. + +Yet let me do her justice. Mild, gentle, and affectionate, she conquers +my impetuosity with prayers, and soothing, and with kindness +irresistible. Still she conquers. + +Then she suffers these animals to torment me. I am angry to think that, +in so short a space, I should have so entirely lost all power over +myself! + +But where is the mortal that can look and not love? Were I myself not +an actor in the play, how should I enjoy the perplexity of these French +_amoureux_! There are I know not how many of them; each more busy than +the other. 'Tis laughable to see with what industry they labour to make +love according to her liking; for they find that their own trifling +manner is inefficient, and can never succeed with her. One of them, +that said crazy Provencal Count, is very earnest indeed, in his +endeavours; but she keeps him in due awe. And it is well perhaps for +him that she does, or I would. Still however he is damned troublesome +and impertinent; and I could wish she were more peremptory. Yet it is +unjust to blame her, for the animal is so full of antics, that it is +impossible to be angry. + +After all, I am far from satisfied respecting myself and this youth, +whom I condescended to chastise. It was beneath me. It gave him a sort +of right to demand satisfaction: but he affects forbearance, because, +as he pretends, he despises duelling. And I hear he has actually given +proofs of the most undaunted courage. He wrote a short note of only +three or four sentences on the subject, after I had struck him, which +produced a very uncommon effect upon me, and made me half repent, and +accuse myself of haughtiness, rashness, and insult. + +But these things torture me. I am out of patience with them. What right +has any pedant, because he thinks proper to vex and entangle his own +brain with doubts, to force his gloomy dogmas upon me? Let those who +love sack-cloth wear it. Must I be made miserable, because an +over-curious booby bewilders himself in inquiry, and galls his +conscience, till, like the wrung withers of a battered post-horse, it +shrinks and shivers at the touch of a fly's foot? What, shall I not +enjoy the free air, the glorious sun, the flowers, the fruits, the +viands, the whole stores of nature? Who shall impede, who shall dare +disturb the banquet? Were it even a dream, the meddling fool that waked +me should dearly repent his rashness. Let speculative blockheads brew +metaphysical nectar, make a hash of axioms, problems, corollaries and +demonstrations, and feed on ideas and fatten. Be theirs the feast of +reason and the flow of soul. But let me banquet with old Homer's jolly +gods and heroes, revel with the Mahometan houris, or gain admission +into the savoury sanctorum of the gormandizing priesthood, snuff the +fumes from their altars, and gorge on the fat of lambs. Let cynic Catos +truss up each his slovenly toga, rail at Heliogabalus, and fast; but +let me receive his card, with--'Sir, your company is requested to dine +and sup.' + +I cannot forget this gardener's son. I am sometimes angry that I should +for a single instant trouble myself with a fellow so much beneath me; +and at others equally angry, for not shewing him the respect which he +claims. There are moments in which I have even feared him as a rival; +for when she speaks to him, which she is very ready to do, the usual +mildness and benevolence of her voice and features are evidently +increased. She must, she shall be more circumspect. Indeed I have made +her so within these few days. + +Prithee forgive all this. My mind is not at ease; but I know not why I +should infect you with its malady. Write, relate something pleasant; +tell me what has happened to you last, and relieve the dissatisfaction +I feel by your unaffected flow of gaiety. Adieu. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XLIV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +I cannot sufficiently applaud the resolute propriety of Frank, since +our last conversation. Indeed, Louisa, his fortitude is admirable! He +does not indulge self-compassion, by brooding over his own loss. Nor +does he, like other mistaken people whose affections have met +disappointment, suppose himself into sufferings, which swell into +existence in proportion as they are imagined to be real. His evident +determination is not to permit any selfish motive to detach him from +the great purposes of life; but cheerfully to submit to what is +inevitable, without thinking it an evil. + +In the mean time, I have been indulging a hope, which at moments has +appeared almost a certainty, that Clifton, by our mutual efforts, shall +acquire all this true ardour, which is so lovely in Frank. How sorry am +I to observe that the haughtiness of Clifton and the coldness of Frank +seem to be increasing! To what can this be attributed? Their behaviour +is so peculiar that I almost dread something has happened, with which I +am unacquainted. + +But perhaps it is the present temper of my mind: the effect of +sensations too irritable, doubts too tremulous, and fears too easily +excited. I cannot forget the conversation: it haunts me; and, did not +Frank set me the example of fortitude, I have sometimes doubted of my +own perseverance. + +Oh, how mean is this in me! Is not the task I have proposed to myself a +worthy and a high one? Am I not convinced it is an inevitable duty? And +shall he, even under a contrary conviction, outstrip me in the +career?--Generous and excellent youth, I will imitate thy most eminent +virtues! + +The Count de Beaunoir still continues to be particular, in what he +calls his adoration of me; but his tone and style are too romantic to +authorize me in any serious remonstrance. Clifton is not pleased, and +the Count and he have fallen into a habit of rallying each other, and +vaunting of what lovers dare do, to prove their affection. Their irony +took so serious a turn, yesterday, that Clifton proposed they should +load their pistols, and both holding by the corner of a handkerchief, +fire at each other. Considering the temper in which they were, and the +constitutional extravagance of the Count, the proposal was terrifying: +but I had the presence of mind to give it an air of ridicule, by +saying--You do not understand the true point of gallantry, gentlemen. +You should go to Japan, where one noble-blooded person draws his sabre, +and dispatches himself, to prove he is acquainted with the high +punctilio and very essence of honour; while another, enraged that he +should be in waiting and have a dish to carry up to the emperor's +table, requests he would condescend to live till he can come down +again, that he may shew he knows what honour is as well as his +disingenuous enemy, who had taken such an unfair advantage. + +The Count laughed, and Clifton I should hope was not displeased that it +was impossible the conversation should again assume the same desperate +and absurd tone. + +I took an opportunity to ask him privately how he could indulge such +intemperate passions; but I was obliged to soften my admonition by all +possible mildness. I know not whether I did right, but I even took his +hand, pressed it between mine, and requested of him, with an ardour +which I think must sink deeply in his mind, to do justice to himself, +to exert those powers of thought which he certainly possessed, and to +restrain passions which, if not restrained, must deter me, or any woman +worthy of him, from a union that would be so dangerous. + +The impression would have been stronger, but that unfortunately his +quick sensations took a different turn. Feeling me clasp his hand, he +dropped on his knee, and with an ecstasy which he seemed unable to +resist kissed both mine, talked something of bliss unutterable, and, +recollecting the conclusion of my sentence, added that the very thought +of losing me was madness. We were interrupted, and I began to fear lest +my true motive should have been misunderstood. + +Oh! Louisa, what a world is this! Into what false habits has it fallen! +Can hypocrisy be virtue? Can a desire to call forth all the best +affections of the heart be misconstrued into something too degrading +for expression? + +I know not, but I begin to fear that no permanent good can be effected +at present, without peril. If so, shall I listen only to my fears; +shrink into self; and shun that which duty bids me encounter? No. +Though the prejudices of mankind were to overwhelm me with sorrows, for +seeking to do good, I will still go on: I will persevere, will +accomplish or die. + +Yet I know not why I am in this mood! But so I am, and Louisa will +forgive me. I talk of sufferings? What have I suffered? What can those +who, mature in reason, are superior to prejudice suffer? But who are +they? My prejudices hourly rise up in arms against me. Every day am I +obliged to combat what the day before I thought I had destroyed. Could +we, at the same moment that we correct our own mistakes, correct those +of the whole world, the work were done at once. But we have to struggle +and to struggle; and, having to-day shaken off the burs that hung about +us, tomorrow we give a glance and perceive them sticking as closely and +as thick as ever! + +I wish to question Frank, concerning these alarms; but he seems +purposely to avoid giving me an opportunity. Perhaps however I am +mistaken; and I hope I am. The restless fancy is frequently too full of +doubts and fears. Oh, how beautiful is open, artless, undisguised +truth! Yet how continually are dissimulation and concealment +recommended as virtues! Whatever mistakes, public or private, they may +think they have discovered, and however beneficial it might be to +correct them, men must not publish their thoughts; for that would be to +libel, to defame, to speak or to write scandal! + +When will the world learn that the unlimited utterance of all thoughts +would be virtuous? How many half-discovered half-acknowledged truths +would then be promulgated; and how immediately would mistake, of every +kind, meet its proper antidote! How affectionately and unitedly would +men soon be brought to join, not in punishing, nor even in reproving, +but in reforming falsehood! Aided and encouraged by your dear and +worthy mother, we have often discoursed on these things, Louisa: and +the common accidents of life, as well as those peculiar to myself, +render such conversations sweet to recollection. + +I must conclude: for though we write best when thoughts flow the most +freely, yet at present I find myself more inclined to think than to +write. + +Affectionately and ever + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XLV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Chateau de Villebrun_ + +I know not, Louisa, how to begin! I have an accident to relate which +has alarmed me so much that I am half afraid it should equally alarm my +friend. Yet the danger is over, and her sensations cannot equal ours. +She can but imagine what they were. But it is so incredible, so mad, so +dreadful! Clifton is strangely rash! + +He had been for some days dissatisfied, restless, and disturbed. I knew +not why, except that I had desired time for mutual consideration, +before I would permit him to speak to Sir Arthur. He has half terrified +me from ever permitting him to speak--But then he has more than +repaired all the wrong he had done. There is something truly +magnanimous in his temper, but it has taken a very erroneous bent. The +chief subject of my last was the distance which I observed between him +and Frank Henley. Little did I know the reason. But I will not +anticipate: only, remember, be not too much alarmed. + +Frank was but one of the actors, though the true and indeed sole hero +of the scene I am going to relate. Indeed he is a wonderful, I had +almost said a divine youth! It took birth from the Count de Beaunoir. + +In my last, I mentioned the strange defiance of the pistols and the +handkerchief: and would you think, Louisa, a conversation so frantic +could be renewed? It is true it shewed itself under a new though +scarcely a less horrible aspect. + +We were yesterday walking in the park, in which there is a remarkable +lake, small but romantic. I before spoke I believe of our rowing on it +in boats. We were walking beside it on a steep rock, which continues +for a considerable length of way to form one of its banks. The Count +and Clifton were before: I, Frank Henley, and a party of ladies and +gentlemen were following at a little distance, but not near enough to +hear the conversation that was passing between your brother and the +Count. + +It seems the latter had first begun once again to talk of times of +knight errantry, and of the feats which the _preux chevaliers_ had +performed for their ladies. The headlong Clifton, utterly despising the +pretended admiration of what he was persuaded the Count durst in no +manner imitate, after some sarcastic expressions of his contempt, madly +but seriously asked the Count if he durst jump off the rock into the +lake, to prove his own courage. Shew your soul, said he, if you have +any! Jump you first, said the Count--! + +Imagine, Louisa, if you can, the shock I received when, not knowing +what had passed, but in an apparent fit of frenzy, I saw him +desperately rush to the side of the rock, and dash himself headlong +down into the water! It was at an angle, and we had a full view of him +falling! + +Every soul I believe shrieked, except myself and perhaps Frank Henley. +Never had I so much need of the fortitude to which I have endeavoured +to habituate my mind. + +The gentlemen all ran to the side of the rock.--They saw Clifton, after +rising to the surface, sink! He had jumped from a place where the +shelving of the rock, under water, by projecting had stunned him as he +fell. + +Frank perceived the danger: he threw off his hat and coat, and ran to +another part, where the height was still more dreadful! Indeed, Louisa, +it excites horror to look at the place! But he seems to be superior to +fear. He plunged down what might well be called an abyss; and, after +rising for a few seconds to breathe, dived again in search of poor +Clifton. + +He was twice obliged to rise and take breath. The third time he found +him, rose with him, turned him upon his own back, and swam with him a +very considerable distance before he could find a place shallow enough +to land. + +To all appearance Clifton was lifeless! But the excellent, most +excellent when you shall hear all, the heroic Frank immediately applied +himself to the remainder of his office. He stayed not a moment to rest, +but lifted him a seeming corpse from the earth, threw him once more on +his back, and ran faster than any of us to the chateau, carried him up +stairs, undressed him himself, put him between the blankets, and gave +every necessary order with as much presence of mind as if there had +been neither accident nor danger. Wet as he was he lost not a thought +upon himself. + +Never shall I forget the indefatigable assiduity with which he laboured +to restore your brother to life; the anxiety which he struggled to +conceal; the variety of means he employed; the ingenuity of his +conjectures and the humanity of every motion! + +Two hours were I and he and all of us held in this dreadful suspense. +At last he was successful; and the relief I felt, the load that seemed +removed from my heart, it is impossible to describe! + +When your brother was perfectly come to himself, Frank suffered him to +be bled. For it had been proposed before; but Frank, with a +determination that could not be withstood, refused to admit of it; +though he had been intreated, and at last openly and loudly blamed, by +the surgeon and those who believed in him, for his pertinacity. But +Frank was not to be shaken, even by the very serious fear of future +accusation. He followed, as he tells me, the opinion of John Hunter; +and well might he think it of more worth than that of the person who +pretended to advise. But it requires no common degree of resolution to +persist, in this manner, in the right; and wholly to despise calumny +and its consequences. + +If you think, Louisa, that after this I can add nothing in praise of +Frank you are greatly mistaken; for what is to come raises his +character almost to an enviable dignity. + +Could you imagine that this very Frank Henley, this undaunted, +determined, high-souled Frank, who had flung himself down the horrid +precipice after your brother, who had swum with him, run with him, +risked being supposed in some sort his murderer, and at last restored +him to life, had the very day before received from the hand of this +same brother--a blow!--If, Louisa, there be one being upon earth +capable of attaining virtues more than human, it is surely Frank +Henley! + +Much praise however, as well as blame, is justly due to Clifton. I +never saw a heart more painfully wrung, by the sense of an injury +committed and of a good so unexampled received, as his has been. It was +he who told of his own behaviour. His total want of power to make +retribution is the theme by which he is pained and oppressed. + +Frank, uniform in generosity, disclaims any superiority, and affirms +Clifton would have done the same, had he been in the same danger. I +think I would, answered Clifton, in a tone that shewed he felt what he +spoke: but I know myself too well to suppose I should have so +unremittingly persevered, like you, in the performance of an office of +humanity which seemed hopeless. + +The distinction was just, disinterested, and worthy the discernment of +a mind like that of your brother. + +Clifton says that, though he cannot think like Frank [We hope to make +him, Louisa.] yet he cannot but admire the magnanimity with which he +acts up to his principles, and proves his sincerity. + +Oh, my friend! You can conceive all the terrors of the scene! So fine a +youth, so accomplished, so brave, the brother of my Louisa, brought to +Paris to meet an untimely death! I the cause of his coming thither! I +the innocent instigator of this last rash act! The eyes of all upon me! +The horror of suspense!--It was indeed a trial! + +Yet who knows what accidents may occur in life? Who can sufficiently +cherish fortitude; and by anticipating defy misfortune? Violently as my +feelings were assaulted, there yet may be, there are, shocks more +violent, scenes more dreadful in the world. Nor is it impossible but +that such may be my lot. And if they were, I hope I still should bear +up against them all. + +It is true I may not always have a Frank Henley to cherish and inspire +hope. His constant theme was--'He is not dead!' And I once heard him +murmuring to himself, with a kind of prophetic energy--'He shall not +die!'--It was this _shall not_ by which he was saved: for, with any +other creature upon earth, I am persuaded he had been gone for ever. Oh +this noble perseverance! It is indeed a godlike virtue! + +The Count is less in spirits, less extravagant, since this accident. It +seems to hang upon his mind, as if he had been out-braved. His anxiety, +as might well be expected from such a temper, was excessive, while +Clifton was in danger: but he seems to repent now, that he did not +follow the mad example. _Parbleu! Madame, je suis Provencal; on dit que +j'ai la tete un peu chaude; mais Messieurs les Anglois vont diablement +vite aux epreuves! Mes compatriotes meme ne sont pas si fous!--Je ne +suis pas content de moi--J'aurais du faire le saut--J'aurais sauve la +vie a man rival! Voila une belle occasion manquee, et beaucoup de +gloire a jamais perdue pour moi!_[1] + +[Footnote 1: 'Sdeath! Madam, I am a native of Provence, and they tell +me I am a little crazy: but these Englishmen are in a confounded hurry +to come to the proof! My own countrymen are less lunatic!--I am not +satisfied with myself. I ought to have leaped after him: I should have +saved the life of my rival! It was losing a glorious opportunity; and I +have robbed myself of thus much fame for ever!] + +My mind at present is not entirely tranquil. The recollection of a +temper so rash as Clifton's preys upon me. Yet, where there are +qualities so high, and powers so uncommon, shall I despair? Shall I +shrink from an act of duty? It is a task I have prescribed to myself. +Shall I witness the fortitude of Frank, and be myself so easily +discomfited? No, Louisa. Clifton shall be ours--_Shall be!_--Shall be +the brother of Louisa, the friend of Frank, and the better part of +Anna. Yes, I too will be determined! I like Frank will say 'He is not +dead! He shall not die!' + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XLVI + +_The Honourable Mrs. Clifton to Frank Henley_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +Sir, + +If the praises, prayers, and thanks, of a woman whom disease has robbed +of more than half her faculties, could be of any value, if the +overflowing heart of a mother could but speak its throbs, if admiration +of gifts so astonishing and virtues so divine could be worthy your +acceptance, or could reward you for all the good you have done us, I +would endeavour to discharge the unexampled and unmerited obligation. + +But no, sir; you are superior to these. I write not for your sake, but +for my own; that I may endeavour to relieve myself of sensations that +oppress me. I feel it incumbent on me to write; yet what can I say? I +have no words. I despair of any opportunity of retribution: I am aged, +infirm, and feeble. I am going down to the grave; but still I have life +enough to revive and feel a new existence, at the recital of your +virtues! + +Forgive this short effusion, from the exuberant heart of a mother, who +wishes but is wholly unable to say how much she admires you. + +M. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XLVII + +_Louisa Clifton to Frank Henley_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +Sir, + +I, like my dear mamma, am impelled to endeavour to return thanks for +benefits, at the recollection of which the heart sinks, and all thanks +become inadequate and vain. Yet suffer a sister's thanks for a brother +spared, pardoned, and restored to life! Restored at the hazard of your +own, and after a mortal affront received! Restored by the energies of +fortitude, sagacity, and affection! + +Indeed, sir, I cannot tell you what I feel. It is utterly impossible. +Imagine me your friend, your sister. Command my life, it is yours. +Yours not so much because the youth you have saved happened to be my +brother, as for the true esteem I have for qualities so exalted. This +is not the first time you have excited my admiration, and permit me to +add my love. Your heart is too noble to misunderstand me. I love +virtue, in man or woman; and if that be sin may I be ever sinful! + +I would wish you the joys of heaven, but my wishes are vain; you have +them already: nor can a mind like yours be robbed of them, by all the +powers of man or accident. + +L. Clifton + + + + +LETTER XLVIII + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +Your three last letters, my dear Anna, have affected me in a very +uncommon manner. The pure passion, the noble resignation, and the +fortitude of Frank Henley are unparalleled. Not to admire, not to +esteem, not to love such virtues is impossible. His unshaken patience, +his generosity, his forgiveness, his courage, his perseverance, are +inimitable proofs of his superiority. Who can forbear wishing him +success? Ought he not to command it; to say it is mine; truth and +justice dare not deny it to me? + +Indeed, Anna, my mind is strangely in doubt. To be guilty of injustice +to such worth is surely no common guilt. And yet my brother--Headlong +lunatic! Whose intemperance is every moment hurrying him into +extremes.--I grant, my friend, his mind is worthy of being retrieved; +and it is a generous, a noble enterprize. Nay I own I sometimes +persuade myself it cannot fail, when Anna St. Ives and Frank Henley, +from motives so pure and with so much determination, engage in the +cause. But at others, I see peril at every step! I find my heart +reproaching me for not adjuring my mend to desist; for not exciting her +to bestow her hand on the man who of all others can most justly claim +it, as his right. + +That I desire to see my brother all that emulation and wisdom could +make him, the friend and husband of my Anna, the rival of her virtues, +and the bosom intimate of him whom she is willing to forego for this +brother's sake; that I desire this, ardently, vehemently, is most true. +If the end be attainable, it is a noble enterprize. But the +difficulties! What are they? Have they been well examined?--I, with my +Anna, say mind can do all things with mind: truth is irresistible, and +must finally conquer. But it has many modes of conquering, and some of +them are tragical, and dreadful. + +To see my Anna married to strife, wasting her fine powers to reform +habits which, though they may be checked, may perhaps be too deep ever +to be eradicated, to see all her exquisite sensibilities hourly preyed +upon by inefficient attempts to do good, for which instead of praise +and love she might meet neglect, reproach, or perhaps stern insult--Oh! +It is a painful thought! She would not pine; she would not weakly sink +into dejection, and desert her duties, in pity to her own +misfortunes.--No--But still it is an unhappy, nay, it is an abhorred +state. + +I am bewildered. One train of reasoning overturns another, and I know +not what to advise. There are times in which these consequences appear +most probable; and there are others in which I say no, it is +impossible! Brutality itself could not be so senseless, so destructive +of its own felicity! Anna St. Ives would win a savage heart! And my +brother evidently has quick and delicate sensations; capable of great +good. But then are they not capable of great harm? Yes: but are they, +would they be capable of harm with her? Would not she command them, +regulate them, harmonize them? Again, and again, I know not. + +One thing however let me add. Let me conjure the friend of my bosom not +to suffer herself to be swayed, by the remembrance of that friendship. +Nay, if she do not feel a certainty of success, let me intreat, let me +admonish her to desist, before it be too late; and before further +encouragement shall seem to authorize the presuming Clifton, for +presuming I am convinced he will be, to found claims upon her kindness. + +Oh that he were indeed worthy of her! Would that he could but rise to +something like that enviable dignity! And can he not?--Indeed I would +not plead against him; but neither would I be instrumental in rendering +my friend, who is surely born a blessing to the earth, miserable. + +I am angry with myself for my own indecision: but in vain; I have no +remedy. I sometimes conclude this indecision ought to act as a warning, +and for that reason I have painted my feelings as they are. If yours +should resemble them, I firmly and loudly say--Anna, desist! If not, I +then have no advice to give. For this I blame myself, but +ineffectually. + +Be assured however that, under all circumstances of future life, be +they adverse or prosperous, my best wishes will be with you, and my +heart and soul ever yours. + +L. CLIFTON + + +P.S. My mamma and I have mutually written to Frank Henley: you may +easily imagine in what tone and style. But I could wish my brother to +see our letters. We have both thought it best to forbear writing to +him; his temper being wayward, and tetchy. We would much rather he +should be obliged to feel, indirectly, what our opinions and sensations +are, than learn them from any formal address, which he is so liable to +misconstrue. It is most probable that Frank will not mention these +letters. But, if you shew him this, and being of my opinion will join +in the request, I have no doubt he will then comply. There is one +sentence in my letter which makes me likewise wish that Clifton should +know I have requested Frank would permit him to see what I have +written; otherwise that sentence might very probably by him be +misinterpreted. When you read the letter, you will instantly know which +I mean; the word love makes it conspicuous; and you will then perceive +my reason. To raise the mind, which is habituated to the suspicious +practices of the world, above those practices, and to make it feel that +the pure heart defies the pusillanimous imputation of want of delicacy, +is a difficult task. But let us, my Anna, continue to act and speak all +that our thoughts approve, void of the fear of accusation. + + + + +LETTER XLIX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +We are returned to Paris. The Marquis and his bride have taken leave of +their country pleasures, and are gone to Fontainebleau, to be presented +at court. + +The strange incident of Clifton excited much conversation, in which my +name and his were frequently joined. The Count de Beaunoir became less +particular in his behaviour to me, in consequence of the reserve which +I thought it right to assume. I find however that he told Sir Arthur, +after running over a great number of enthusiastic epithets, in his wild +way, all in my praise, that he perceived at present I preferred +another; and that he had too high a sense of honour to put any +restraint on a lady's inclinations. But if my mind should change, and +his person, fortune, sword, and life could give me pleasure, they +should eternally be at my command. He likewise means in a few days to +follow the court to Fontainebleau, as he said; and he again repeated he +had lost a fine opportunity of convincing me how he adored me; and that +he was diablement fache. + +Clifton has entirely altered his behaviour to Frank; he now treats him +with unaffected freedom and respect. But his impatience relative to me +has not abated. Tomorrow we are to have some conversation, after which +I imagine he wishes to make proposals to Sir Arthur. + +Would you think, Louisa, that I sometimes suffer myself to be surprised +into fears; and that I then find myself ready to retract, or at least +questioning whether I ought to proceed. + +There is something fatally erroneous in the impatient propensities of +the human mind. How seldom does it stay so fully to examine a question +as to leave no remaining doubt, and to act on a preconcerted and +consistent plan! Yet it never acts with safety, or with satisfaction, +except when it has or imagines it has made this examination. If our +motives be few, slow, and feeble, we then are heavy, dull, and stupid: +if they be quick, numerous, and strong, we are too apt implicitly to +obey first impulses, and to hurry headlong into folly and extravagance. +Yet these last only can give energy; and, having them, wisdom will +consist in being able to curb them, so as to give full time for +consideration. + +The conscious want of this in myself is what I blame. How often am I +surprised by unexpected circumstances, which I ought to have foreseen, +and against which I ought to have provided! If I have any doubts of +myself, if I am not certain of producing those effects on the mind of +Clifton which I know I ought to be able to produce, it becomes me to +recede. Or rather it becomes me to apply myself, with the resolution of +which I am so ready to vaunt, to attain that which is attainable, to +discover the true means, the clue to his mind, and to persevere. + +I have sometimes suspected myself of being influenced by his fine form, +and the charms of his wit and gaiety. At others I have even doubted +whether I were not more actuated by an affection for my Louisa, than by +a sense of incumbent duty. But, consider the subject how I will, that +there is a duty, and that I am called upon to fulfil it, is an unerring +decision. + +There must be no concealment. I must explain my whole chain of +reasonings to him: for nothing appears more indubitable to me than that +duplicity never can conduce to good. The only fear is that I should be +deficient in my detail, and present my plan so as to give it a false +appearance. Truth partially told becomes falsehood: and it was a kind +of blind consciousness of this which first induced men to countenance +dissimulation. They felt their inability to do justice to truth, and +therefore concluded hypocrisy was a virtue, and, strange to tell, truth +itself sometimes a vice. It was a lamentable mistake. It is partial +truth, or in other words falsehood, which is the vice. + +Clifton has from the beginning been a great favourite with Sir Arthur. +He contradicts none of my father's prejudices; he admires grounds and +parks beautifully laid out; has a taste for architecture; points out +the defects and excellencies of the buildings of France with much +discrimination; has a great respect, like Sir Arthur, for family, and +prides himself in being the son of an honourable mother; recounts, in a +pleasant and lively manner, the anecdotes he has heard; and relates his +own adventures, so as to render them amusing. There is therefore no +fear of opposition from Sir Arthur. + +He has another advantage with the family. My uncle, Lord Fitz-Allen, is +at present in Paris, on his return from Switzerland, and Clifton has +been introduced to him by his kinsman, Lord Evelyn, who is making a +short excursion to the south of France. The near relationship of your +brother to this noble lord has given him great consequence with my +uncle, who has once more condescended to restore me to favour. Could I +or did it become me entirely to conceal those feelings which his +arrogance inspires, I should stand much higher in his esteem. As it is, +he acts more from the love of his rank and family, that is of himself, +than of me; and has accordingly signified his mandatory approbation to +Sir Arthur. As nothing however in the way of family advantage is to be +expected from him, he having several children and a prodigious quantity +of dignity to maintain, his behest is not altogether so omnipotent as +it might otherwise be. + +My brother, agreeably to his grandfather's will, has taken possession +of the Edgemoor estate, which is eight hundred a year. This I imagine +will oblige Sir Arthur, in despite of his predilection, to retrench +some of his improving expences. He mentioned the circumstance to me, +and I thought that a good opportunity once more to attack his ruling +passion. Our conversation soon became animated. I boldly descanted on +the use and abuse of riches, on the claims of honest distress, and on +the turpitude of seeking self-gratifications, and neglecting to promote +the great ends for which men ought to live, the spreading of truth, the +rewarding of genius, and the propagation of mind. + +But it was to little purpose. Sir Arthur did not understand me; and I +was more angry at myself than at him, as well I might be, for wanting +the power to render myself intelligible. He as usual was amazed to hear +he had not a right to do what he pleased with his own, and to be told +it was not his own. Nor was he sparing in pettish reproof to the +self-sufficient young lady, who thought proper to dispute the propriety +and wisdom of his projects. + +The question that continually occurs to me is, when shall those beings +who justly claim superiority of understanding, and thence a right to +direct the world, find some simple and easy mode of convincing the +mistaken, and by conviction of eradicating error? + +Adieu. Blessings be with you. I shall most probably write by the next +post, for I wish you to be as perfectly acquainted as possible with +every thing that passes, that I may profit by the advice of a friend so +dear, so true, and so discerning. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. Your last letter is this moment come to hand, and has strongly +revived trains of ideas that of late have repeatedly passed through my +own mind. It confirms me in the resolution of being very sincere with +your brother. But, unless my sincerity should so far offend him, as to +induce him voluntarily to recede, it likewise shews me it is my duty to +persist. At least such is the result of all the arguments I hold with +myself, whenever the subject presents itself to me, either through the +medium of my own imagination, or pictured by others. I will write soon. +I approve the reasoning in your postscript, will shew it to Frank, and +will ask him to let me and Clifton see the letters, who shall likewise +know it is by your desire. + + + + +LETTER L + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +I have received yours of the 30th ult.[1] honest Aby, and it gave me +great pleasure to hear you had so much dispatch. Wenbourne-Hill is the +garden of Eden. The more I see the more I am convinced. What is there +here to be compared to my temples, and my groves, and my glades? Here a +mount and a shrubbery! There a dell concealed by brambles! On your +right a statue! On your left an obelisk, and a sun-dial! The obelisk is +fixed, yet the dial shews that time is ever flying. Did you ever think +of that before, Aby? + +[Footnote 1: Omitted.] + +Apropos of this dial: Sir Alexander I remember said it was useless half +the day; because it was shaded from the sun to the west and the north, +by the old grove. His advice was that the grove should be grubbed up; +but it certainly would be much easier to remove the sun dial, obelisk, +and all. + +I am so delighted with the recollection of these things, Abimelech, +that I had half forgotten the reason of my writing to you. The subject +is disagreeable enough; and I should not be sorry if I were never to +remember it more. + +I very much fear we must stop our improvements. My son has claimed and +entered upon the Edgemoor estate. I thought myself sure that he would +remain satisfied as he was till my death. What could be more +reasonable? I argued with him to the very utmost, but to no purpose. He +is in great haste to set up for himself; and I don't know whether he +would not eject me out of Wenbourne-Hill, if he had the power. In vain +did I tell him that his pay in the guards, added to the three hundred +a-year which I had before allowed him, was more than any young man knew +how properly to spend. He has only himself to think of; and he very +positively declares he never means to have a family, for he will never +marry. I believe he is quite serious in his declaration: and if so, +what does he want with an estate of eight hundred a-year? He ought to +consider that; and to remember that a provision must be made for his +sister. But no; he considers only himself. + +Indeed I hear but an indifferent account of him: he is a fashionable +gentleman, and would rather squander his money at the gaming-table, +than suffer it to remain in the family. He has been a wild youth. I +have sometimes wondered where he got all the money which I am told he +has spent. Not from me I am sure. And though I have often heard of his +deep play, I do not remember to have ever heard of his winning. But he +follows his own course. My arguments that I had the family dignity to +support, his sister to marry, and mortgages to pay off, were all in +vain. + +He was equally deaf when I pleaded the improvements that I was making; +all for his sake. For you know, Aby, he is to have them when I am gone: +and go I must, some time or another. + +He had even the confidence to tell me that, if Wenbourne-Hill were his, +he would quickly undo every thing that I have been doing. + +Is not this a sad thing, Aby? For what have I been labouring? Have not +we both spent our lives in contriving? How many charming thoughts have +we had! What pleasure have we taken in planting and pulling up, digging +and scattering, watering and draining, turfing and gravelling! + +Talking of water, Aby, I cannot forbear mentioning a most delightfully +romantic lake, which I have met with in the park of the Marquis de +Villebrun. It is the only thing, in the laying out of grounds, that I +have seen to please me in all France. One part of it a fine level: such +a sweep! At the other extremity nothing but rocks and precipices. Your +son Frank threw himself headlong down one of them, into the water, to +save a gentleman's life. Were you but to see it, you would be +astonished. They have called it the Englishman's leap. I would not do +such a thing for a million of money. I should be dead enough if I did. + +But Frank is a bold young man, and I assure you, Aby, highly esteemed +by my daughter; ay and by myself too, and by every body: very highly +indeed. He was the whole talk for I know not how many days. + +But about this money, Aby. I shall soon want a good round sum, if I am +not mistaken. I may venture, Aby, to give you a hint that I expect very +soon, indeed I don't know how soon, a proposal should be made to me for +my daughter: and if it be, I am so pleased with the party, who let me +tell you is a fine spirited young fellow, that I assure you I shall not +think of refusing my consent; especially as he is so much in the good +graces of my daughter. In this case, I cannot do less than pay twenty +thousand pounds down. + +I am afraid, honest Aby, we must renounce the wilderness! But when you +know the party, I think you will allow I could not act otherwise. + +Indeed, I find, however we may please ourselves, we can never satisfy +our children. Here too has Anna been lecturing me, about money thrown +away, as she is pleased to conceive; and has said a great deal indeed, +against what I thought could not have been found fault with. But so it +is! Friends, relations, children, all are wiser than ourselves! All are +ready enough to discover or to suppose blemishes! Would you think it +possible for any body to be acquainted with Wenbourne-Hill and do any +thing but admire? My hope, nay my determination was to have made it the +paradise of England, and to have drawn strangers far and near to come +and be delighted with its beauties. But these rubs and crosses put one +out of heart with the most excellent thoughts and contrivances. + +Let me know what you think can be done in these money matters, if +things should be as I expect. You are perfectly acquainted with the +state of my affairs. I see no way but that of mortgaging more deeply. + +It is exceedingly vexatious to think of stopping our proceedings, Aby. +But what can be done? However, as I do not intend to stay much longer +here, we can talk more to the purpose on these matters when we meet in +England. + +Perhaps it would be better to begin by discharging the workmen +gradually; which you will find proper opportunities to do, Aby. And if +you were, by way of talk in the neighbourhood, to say that you thought +nothing more could be done to Wenbourne-Hill, and that you had reason +to believe that was my opinion likewise, such a report might tie the +tongues of cavillers: for I would not have it thought we stop for want +of money. + +You may write to me here, in answer to this; for we shall not leave +Paris before your letter will come to hand. And so, good Abimelech, +farewell. + +A. ST. IVES + + +P.S. I will not tell you the name of the party from whom I expect the +proposal, honest Aby; because if he should be shy of speaking, as +youngsters sometimes are, it might come to nothing; but I may hint to +you, that you are well acquainted with his family; and I dare say you +will not be sorry for the match, it being so agreeable to my daughter's +inclination; though I grant it may not be so good a one as my sister +Wenbourne, and others of the family, have been expecting; because of +Anna's beauty and accomplishments, which I own might well merit a man +of higher birth and fortune. But the little hussy has been so nice, and +squeamish, that I began to fear she would take up her silly +spend-thrift brother's whim, and determine to live single: therefore I +shall not balk her, now she seems in the humour. + + + + +LETTER LI + +_Abimelech Henley to Frank Henley_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Why, ay! To be sure! This will do! I shall be fain to think a summut of +ee, now you can flamgudgin 'em a thisn. I did'nt a think it was innee. +Why you will become a son of my own begettin. I write to tellee the +good news, and that ee mightn't a kick down the milk. You have a +sifflicated Sir Arthur. I could a told ee afore that you had a +sifflicated Missee. But I was afeard as that you wur a too adasht. But +I tellee it will do! Father's own lad! An ear-tickler! Ay, ay! That's +the trade! Sugar the sauce, and it goes down glibly. + +Listen to me. I a learnt the secret on't. What was I, I pray you? +Pennyless Aby! Wet and weary! And what am I now? A tell me that. Why +I'm a worth--But that's a nether here nor there, I tellee. And what may +you be an you please? What should I a bin, an I ad had your settins +out? Why Ide a bin what Ide a pleased. A dooke, mayhap; or a lord mayor +of Lunnun?--No--A sekittary prime minister?--No--A member of +parliament?--No--Ide a bin treasurer!--Treasurer of the three kinkdums. +Ide a handled the kole!--I've a feathered my nest as it is; and what +would I a done then thinkee? + +Stick close to Sir Arthur. Mind your hits, and you have him a safe +enough. Didn't I always tellee you must catch 'n by the ear? A cunnin +curr always catches a pig by the ear. He expects a proposal for Missee; +he does not a know how soon. And who does he expect to propose? Guess, +Nicodemus, if you can. Do you mind me? He shan't refuse his consent. +Mark you me that! They are his own words. Twenty thousand pounds down! +His own words again. What do you say to me now? It's all your own! I +mean it's all _our_ own--Do you mind me? For who have you to thank for +it? I tellee it is but ask and have--And how do I know that?--What's +that to you, Dolt?--No, no--You are a no dolt now--You are a good lad. + +I tellee I'm in the secret! So do you flamdazzle Missee. I a heard of +your jumpins and swimmins: and so that you do but swim to the main +chance, why ay! That's a summut! I a bin to Clifton-Hall. For why? I +begind to smell a rat! And there I talked with t'other Missee. I a +palavered her over. I a ferretted and a feagued and a worked and a +wormed it all out of she. Your name is up! You may go to bed! Do you +mind me? You may go to bed to twenty thousand pounds! It is as good as +all your own. + +I am a to find the kole: that is, I first havin and holdin the +wherewithalls, and the whys, and the wherefores. And so do you see me, +I expect to have the handlin ont--But that's a nether here nor there. +Sir Arthur as good as said it to me--So don't a stand like a Gabriel +Gallymaufry all a mort, shilly shally, I would if I durst--A dip in the +skimmin dish and a lick of the fingur--That's a not the way with a +maiden--What! A don't I know?--Make up to Missee, and say to her, +Missee! Here am I! My name is Frank Henley! My father's name is +Abimelech Henley! A's a cunnin warm old codger--A tell her that--And +says you, here Missee says you am I, at your onnurable Ladyship's +reverend sarvice. My father has a got the rhino--A don't forget to tell +her that--Smug and snug and all go snacks--Do you mind me? And so, says +you, I have a paradventerd umbelly to speak my foolish thofts, says +you. That is take me ritely, your Ladyship, says you; under your +Ladyship's purtection and currection, and every think of that there +umbel and very submissive obedient kind, says you. And so says you, do +ee see me Missee, I onnurs and glorifies your Ladyship; and am ready to +have and to hold, says you; go fairly go fouly, be happy be lucky, any +day o'the week, says you; I and my father, honest Aby, says you. He can +raise the wind, says you! He can find the wherewithalls to pay for +lawyer's parchment, says you--But mind, that's a nether here nor +there--So a here Missee stands I, says you; I and my honest old +father--A's got the marygolds, says you! The gilly flowers, the yellow +boys, says you! Golore!--But that's a nether here nor there. + +So do you tell her all a that I bid ee, and a mind your pees and cues. +Who knows but Wenbourne-Hill itself may be one day all our own? I say +who knows? There be old fools and young fools--I tellee that--Old +planners, and improvers, and bite bubbles; and young squitter +squanders, gamblers, and chouse chits--Mark you me that--And there be +wax and parchment too--Ay and post obits[1]; and besides all doosoors +and perkissits. A what is money good for but to make money? A tell me +that. + +[Footnote 1: The original reads postt-off bites. The context suggested +post obits, which reading is confirmed by succeeding letters. The +syllable _bits_ might very naturally, in the mind of honest Aby, be +changed into _bites_. Dates have for certain reasons been omitted; but, +from this and other passages, we may perceive that the date of this +correspondence is antecedent to the bill for protecting minors against +usury.] + +And so in the name and the lovin kindness of the mercifool sufferins of +almighty goodness, and peace and glory and heavenly joys, no more at +present. + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LII + +_Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Most onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master, + +For certainly your noble onnur knows best. And thof I have +paradventerd, now and tan, umbelly to speak my foolish thofts, and +haply may again a paradventer, when your most exceptionable onnur shall +glorify me with a hearing, in sitch and sitch like cramp cases and +queerums as this here; yet take me ritely, your noble onnur, it is +always and evermore with every think of that there umbel and very +submissive obedient kind. + +My younk Lady Missee is as elegunt a my Lady younk Missee as any in the +three kink's kinkdums. A who can gain say it? She is the flour of the +flock, I must a say that. The whole country says it. For why, as +aforesaid, a who can gain say it? A tell me that! Always a savin and +exceptin your noble onnur, as in rite and duty boundin. What, your most +gracious onnur, a hannot I had the glory and the magnifisunce to dangle +her in my arms, before she was a three months old? A hannot I a known +her from the hour of her birth? Nay, as a I may say, afore her blessed +peepers a twinkled the glory of everlastin of infinit mercifool +commiseration and sunshine? A didn't I bob her here, and bob her there; +a up and a down, aback and afore and about, with a sweet gracious a +krow and a kiss for honest poor Aby, as your onnur and your onnurable +Madam, my Lady, ever gracious to me a poor sinner used then to call me? + +Not but those times are a passt. But, a savin and exceptin your noble +onnur, that's a nether here nor there. I may hold up my head as well as +another. A why not? When so be as a man has no money, why then, a savin +and exceptin your onnur's reverence, a's but a poor dog. But when so be +as a man as a got the rhino, why then a may begin to hold up his head. +A why not? Always a savin and exceptin your noble onnur, as aforesaid. + +Your noble onnur knows that I'm a be apt to let my tongue mag a little, +when my wits be a set a gaddin; and whereupon the case is as witch your +noble onnur was pleased to sifflicate me upon, in your last rite +onnurable and mercifool letter. For why? A man's son as I may say is +himself; and twenty thousand pounds, thof it be not a penny too much, +is somethink. For witch the blessin and glory of goodness and praise be +with the donors. Nevertheless that there will likewise be the +wherewithalls, mayhap, notwithstandin, when my head comes to be laid +low. Thof if so be I cannot but say that a man would rather a not think +of that there, if a could help it. A savin and exceptin that the +blessin and glory and power and praise of the saints, and the martyrs, +and the profits, and the cherubims and serafims, and the amen +allelujahs, might a be summut to a dyin soul; when a has had, god be +mercifool unto us, time for repentance, and the washin away of the sins +of this wickedness world, by good deeds, and charity, and mercy, and +lovin kindness unto all men; when the poor miserable sinner, with +groans, and tears, and eternal terrifyins of the flamin prince Lucifer +Belzebub of darkness everlastin is at last obliged to take leave of the +soul from the body. Ah, a well a day! Man is a reprobation race! A's a +given over to sin, and to shame, and to backslidins, and to the slough +of despond, and to the valley of the shaddow of death, and if a has +not, miserable sinner, a time to repent, of a witch be evermore granted +unto us all, world without end. Amen! Amen! + +Ah, dear a me, what have I a bin talkin to your most gracious onnur? I +was a meant to tell your noble onnur that the twenty thousand pounds +mayhap might a be forth cummin; on proper occasions, and certificates, +and securities, and doosoors, and perkissits; all of the witch, as my +ever onnurd master aforetime knows, there is no a doin a business +without. For why?--Money is money, and land is land; and there be +troubles, and takins, and seekins, and enquirins, and profit and loss, +and ifs and mayhaps, and all a that there; of the witch there is no a +doing without. But nevertheless I dares to say, likewise and +notwithstandin as aforesaid, that the money may be a forth cummin. + +Nay and if so be the witch that I might a paradventer to advise, but +that to be sure I should not a like to have it a thoft that I should +perk and put in my oar, all agog to my betters, and moreover one of his +majesty's baronets, otherwise I should say nevertheless as aforesaid +that the younk lady is the flour of the flock; and if so be as I had +the onnurable grace and blessin to be her father, I would a give her +and a make over to her, now and evermore hereafter, all a that the law +would a let me. And a let 'em tell me, your noble onnur, who desarves +it better. What! Isn't she, as I may say, the very firmament of the +power and glory of praise? What is ivory and alablaster a parallel to +her? Let 'em a tell me that! If I wus the onnurable father of sitch +ever mercifool affability, would a not I be fain to give her gems and +rubies, and carbuncles, if I had 'em? Who should gain say me? A savin +and exceptin your ever exceptionable and noble onnur. I wouldn't a be +meant to be thoft to put in a word for meself, by no manner of account; +no, no; far be it from me; but in other partikillers, if so be that it +wus me meself, I shouldn't a grutch her kinkdums. And ast to thwartin +and knatterin and crossin the kindly sweet virginal soul, ever blessed +as she is, in love, for what truly? Your noble onnur has too much +bowels of fatherly miseration. No, no! Your noble onnur has a clencht +it; take her now she is in the humour. Whereby maidens be wayward and +fain and froward and full of skittish tricks, when they be happen to be +crossed in love. Take her in the humour your wise and alwise noble +onnur. + +Whereof your onnur was a menshinnin a stagnation to be put in the spoke +of the wheel of improvements. Whereof if I might a paradventer to put +in my oar, I should say why that should be as it might a be happen. +When if as I should ever live to see the glorious day of this marriage +match rejoice the heart of Wenbourne-Hill, why then I should know how +to speak my poor thofts. For why? All would then be clear and above +board; and we should all a know who and who was together. That would be +summut! We might then a be happen to raise the wind; and the +wherewithalls might a be forth cummin. + +And so, as matters and thinks is likely to turn out, to be sure I must +say that your onnur has a hit the nail on the head. Whereof as your +onnur has a ushered your commands, I shall begin to take care of the +kole, and send them there rapscallions a packin. + +And as to the flickers and fleers of the neighbours, your onnurable +onnur, a leave me to humdudgin they. I'll a send their wits a +wool-gatherin. For why? Your onnurable onnur has always a had my lovin +kindness of blessins of praise, as in duty boundin. For certainly I +should be fain to praise the bridge that a carries me safe over. And +now that your onnur is a thinkin of a more of lovin kindness and +mercies, to me and mine, why a what should I say now? Why I should say +and should glorify, to all the world, that your onnur is my ever +onnured and rite most mercifool bountifool faithfool and disrespectfool +kind master; and that I be your ever rite and most trusty true honest +Aby; and every think of that there umbel and very submissive obedient +kind, as in duty boundin. + +But I a bin a thinkin, your ever gracious onnur, that a behap the +kintlin may stand alooft, and a hang--, and a be adasht. And a what is +to be done then? Why then, whereupon if that your ever gracious onnur +would but be so all mercifool in goodness as to say the word, why we +should be upon sure ground, and all our quips and quandaries and +afterclaps would a be chouse clickt. I most umbelly pray and besiege +your onnur to be so mercifool as to think o' that there! Do ee, your +ever gracious onnur! I pray your onnur, doo ee! Then we should a be all +sound and safe over, and it would all a be holiday at Wenbourne-Hill! A +that would be a glorified day! The lawjus mighty, ay! It would! + +Witch is all in praise and onnur of the glory and peace to come, +thanksgivin and gladness; umbelly beggin leave to super scribe me self, + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + +I needn't a say nothink of a concernin of a dockin of the entail, to +your onnur. For why? As your onnur knows, nothink can be done, in the +way of the kole and the wherewithalls, without a that there. But ast +for that, a that argufies nothink. For why? His younk onnur, I knows, +will be a willin enough; that is, settin the case of a proviso of a +doosoor consideration in ready rhino for himself. A told me himself, +his younk onnur, that a will have that. A says a will sell his chance, +and a doesn't a care how soon; but a wonnot give it away. Witch if so +be as it be not to be helpt, why a what be to be done, your onnur? + + + + +LETTER LIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +Your brother has this moment left me. Our conversation has been +animated; and, as usual, I sit down to commit what has passed to paper, +while it is fresh on my memory. + +He began with the warmest expressions of the force of his passion. I +have no reason to doubt of their sincerity; and, if affection can be +productive of the end which I hope, its strength ought to give me +pleasure. He would scarcely suffer me to suppose it possible there +could be any cause of difference between us: let me but name my +conditions and they should be fulfilled. He would undertake all that I +did, all that I could require; and it was with difficulty that I could +persuade him of the possibility of promising too fast. This introduced +what was most material in our dialogue. + +My heart assures me, madam, said he, that I never gave you the least +cause to suspect the sincerity and ardour of my passion: and I should +hope that the fears, which I have sometimes thought you too readily +entertained, are now dissipated. + +My fears are chiefly for, or rather of, myself. I doubt whether any +person has so high an opinion of the powers and energy of your mind as +I have: but I think those powers ill directed, and in danger of being +lost. + +I own, madam, I have been sometimes grieved, nay piqued, to perceive +that you do not always think quite so well of me as I could wish. + +You wrong me. You yourself do not think so highly of yourself as I do. + +Yet you suppose me to be in danger? + +Of being misled. Some of my opinions and principles, or some of yours, +are erroneous, for they differ; I cannot at this moment but perceive +how liable I am to be misunderstood. I cannot be insensible of the +awkwardness of the situation in which I now place myself. My age, my +sex, the customs of the world, a thousand circumstances contribute to +cast an air of ridicule upon what ought to be very serious. But I must +persist. Do you endeavour to forget these circumstances; and consider +only the words, not the girl by whom they are spoken. + +It is not you, madam, but I who ought to dread appearing ridiculous. +But for your sake--Let me but obtain your favour, and make me as +ridiculous as you please. + +I told you so!--Should the lordly lettered man submit to have his +principles questioned, by an untutored woman? Be sincere: your mind +revolts at it? + +I feel the justness of your satire. Men are tyrants. + +Prejudice is a tyrant: there is no other tyranny. + +Madam! + +That is one of my strange opinions. It may be true; I am willing to +think it is. Such things are indifferent to me. Let me but have your +consent, to speak to Sir Arthur, and I have accomplished all I wish. I +do not desire to trouble myself with examining opinions, true or false. +I am determined to be of your opinion, be it what it will. + +That is, you avow that the gratification of your desires is the chief +pursuit of your life. We have now found the essential point on which we +differ. + +Is not happiness, madam, the universal pursuit? Must it not, ought it +not to be? + +Yes. But the grand distinction is between general and individual +happiness. The happiness that centres in the good of the whole may for +the present find momentary interruption, but never can be long +subverted: while that individual happiness, of which almost the whole +world is in pursuit, is continually blundering, mistaking its object, +losing its road, and ending in disappointment. + +Then, madam, we must all turn monks, preach self-denial, fast, pray, +scourge away our sins, live groaning, and die grieving. + +[I smiled. It is his usual way, when he thinks I am got a little in the +clouds, to draw some humorous or satirical picture, to bring me down to +what he esteems common-sense. But, as I am convinced that truth only +need to be repeated, and insisted on, whenever there is an opportunity, +in order finally to be received, the best way is always to join in the +laugh, which is inoffensive, unless pettishness give it a sting.] + +You find yourself obliged at present to consider me as a whimsical +girl, with a certain flow of spirits, and much vanity, desiring to +distinguish herself by singularity? + +No, madam, whatever you may think of me, my heart will not endure a +thought to your disadvantage. + +Nay, nay, forbear your kind reproaches. Every time you differ with me +in sentiment, you cannot but think something to my disadvantage. It is +so with all of us. The very end of this present explanation is +sincerity. We each think well of the other: but do we think +sufficiently well? Is there a certainty that our thoughts are in no +danger of changing? Of all the actions of private life, there is not +one so solemn as that of vowing perpetual love: yet the heedless levity +with which it is daily performed, proves that there is scarcely one on +which less serious reflection is bestowed. Can we be too careful not to +deceive ourselves? Ought we not minutely to examine our hopes and +expectations? Ought not you and I, in particular, to be circumspect? +Our imaginations are vivid, our feelings strong, our views and desires +not bounded by common rules. In such minds, passions, if not subdued, +become ungovernable, and fatal. + +I am very conscious, madam-- + +Nay, do not fancy I seek to accuse: my purpose is very different. My +mind is no less ardent than yours, though education and habit may have +given it a different turn. It glows with equal zeal to attain its end. +Where there is much warmth, much enthusiasm, I suspect there is much +danger. We had better never meet more, than meet to be miserable. + +For heaven's sake, madam, do not torture me with so impossible a +supposition! + +You expect one kind of happiness, I another. Can they coalesce? You +imagine you have a right to attend to your appetites, and pursue your +pleasures. I hope to see my husband forgetting himself, or rather +placing self-gratification in the pursuit of universal good, deaf to +the calls of passion, willing to encounter adversity, reproof, nay +death, the champion of truth, and the determined the unrelenting enemy +of error. + +I think, madam, I dare do all that can be required of me. + +I know your courage is high. I know too that courage is one of the +first and most essential qualities of mind. Yet perhaps I might and +ought to doubt, nay to ask, whether you dare do many things. + +What is it, madam, that I dare not do? + +Dare you receive a blow, or suffer yourself falsely to be called liar, +or coward, without seeking revenge, or what honour calls satisfaction? +Dare you think the servant that cleans your shoes is your equal, unless +not so wise or good a man; and your superior, if wiser and better? Dare +you suppose mind has no sex, and that woman is not by nature the +inferior of man?-- + +Madam-- + +Nay, nay, no compliments; I will not be interrupted--Dare I you think +that riches, rank, and power, are usurpations; and that wisdom and +virtue only can claim distinction? Dare you make it the business of +your whole life to overturn these prejudices, and to promote among +mankind that spirit of universal benevolence which shall render them +all equals, all brothers, all stripped of their artificial and false +wants, all participating the labour requisite to produce the +necessaries of life, and all combining in one universal effort of mind, +for the progress of knowledge, the destruction of error, and the +spreading of eternal truth? + +There is such energy, madam, in all you say, that, while I listen to +you, I dare do any thing, dare promise any thing. + +Nay, but the daring of which I speak, must be the energy of your own +mind, not of mine. + +Do not distress yourself and me with doubts, madam. I have heard you +yourself say that truth ultimately must prevail. I may differ with you +in some points; but I am willing to hear, willing to discuss; and, if +truth be on your side, there can be no danger. + +The only danger is in the feeble or false colouring which the defenders +of truth may give it, and not in truth itself. + +I am too well convinced of your power to feel your doubts. You oblige +me to see with your eyes, hear with your ears, believe what you +believe, and reject what you think incredible. I am and must be +whatever you please to make me. You have but to prescribe your own +conditions. + +Prescribe I must not. If I can persuade, if I can win upon your mind-- + +If--! You won my whole soul the very first moment I saw you! Not a word +or action of mine but what has proclaimed the burning impatience of my +passion! + +True: the burning impatience--Your eagerness to assent will not suffer +you to examine. Your opinions and principles are those which the world +most highly approves, and applauds: mine are what it daily calls +extravagant, impracticable, and absurd. It would be weak in me to +expect you should implicitly receive remote truths, so contradictory to +this general practice, till you have first deeply considered them. I +ask no such miracle. But if I can but turn your mind to such +considerations, if I can but convince you how inestimable they are, +even to yourself as well as to the world at large, I shall then have +effected my purpose. + +Of that, madam, be sure--You shall see!--Upon my honour, you shall!--I +will order a fur-cap, a long gown, a white wand, and a pair of sandals +this very day! No Grecian ever looked more grave than I will! Nay, if +you desire it, razor shall never touch my chin more. + +Well, well; equip yourself speedily, and I will provide you with a +wooden dish, a lanthorn, and a tub. + +But then, having made your conditions, you now grant me your consent? + +That is obliging me once more to put on my serious face--The danger in +which I so lately saw you hangs heavily on my mind; that and the warm +passions by which it was occasioned. + +And my excess of ardour, to demonstrate my love, you regard as a proof +of my having none. + +How passion overshoots itself! Your conclusion is as precipitate as was +your proof. + +I cannot be cool, madam, on this subject. I wonder to see you so! Did +affection throb and burn in your bosom, as it does in mine, I am +persuaded it would be otherwise. + +We are neither of us so entirely satisfied with each other as we ought +to be, to induce either me to consent or you to apply to Sir Arthur. + +For heaven's sake, madam-- + +Hear me patiently, for a moment. Previous to this conversation, I was +convinced of the folly and danger of excessive haste. Should you +imagine I have any self-complacency or caprice to gratify, by delay, +you will do me great injustice: I solemnly protest I have none. My own +interest, had I no better motive, would make me avoid such conduct. The +inconsistencies and vain antics of the girl, which are justly enough +stigmatized by the epithets flirting and coquetry, are repaid tenfold +upon the wife. I would deal openly, honestly, and generously; but not +rashly. I have every predilection in your favour which you could wish; +such doubts excepted as I have declared. But I must not give either you +or the world cause to accuse me of levity. My consent to speak to Sir +Arthur would be generally understood as a pledge to proceed; not it is +true by me, if I saw just cause to retract: but, though I earnestly +desire to reform, I almost as earnestly wish not unnecessarily to +offend the prejudices of mankind. + +Nay let me beg, let me conjure you--[He took both my hands with great +ardour.] + +And let me beg too, let me conjure you, not to think meanly or unkindly +of me, when I tell you that I must insist on a short delay. + +I will kneel! I will do any thing--! + +Do nothing which your heart does not approve; it never can be the way +to forward any worthy suit. For my part, I must tell you, which you may +reckon among my faults, that when I have once considered a subject, I +am a very positive and determined girl. This may be thought obstinacy; +but such I am, and such therefore you ought to see me. + +And when, madam, may I now presume to hope? + +Do not speak as if you were displeased. Indeed it is far from my +intention to offend. + +You are too well acquainted, madam, with your own power of pleasing, to +fear giving offence. + +Far the contrary, for I fear it at this moment. + +You are kind and killing both in a breath.--Be doubly kind, and suffer +me immediately to speak to Sir Arthur. + +I told you I am fixed, and I assure you it is true. + +When then may I hope? + +I could have wished to have seen my friend, your sister, first: but +perhaps Sir Arthur may make some stay in London, and I should be sorry +to delay a moment longer than seems absolutely necessary. Let us both +consider what has passed this morning, and provided no new accident +should intervene-- + +Another leap from a rock? + +Provided our approbation and esteem for each other should continue, and +increase, I will ask for no further delay, after we come to London. + +Well, well. It is the poor lover's duty to thank his mistress for the +greatness of her condescension, even when he thinks she uses him +unkindly. + +I was going to reply, but my enterprising gentleman--[Indeed, Louisa, +your brother is a bold youth]--snatched an unexpected embrace, with +more eagerness than fear, and then fell on one knee, making such a +piteous face for forgiveness, so whimsical, and indeed I may say witty, +that it was impossible to be serious. However, I hurried away, and thus +the conference ended. + +And now, after reviewing what has passed, tell me, Louisa, ought I to +recede? Are not my hopes well founded? Must not the reiteration of +truth make its due impression, upon a mind like Clifton's? Can it fail? +Is he not the man who, for all the reasons formerly given, truly merits +preference? + +I must not forget to tell you that Frank readily complied with your +request, and Clifton has seen the letters. He seems oppressed, as it +were, with a sense of obligation to Frank; which the latter endeavours +to convince him is wrong. Reciprocal duties, he says, always must exist +among mankind; but as for obligations, further than those, there are +none. A grateful man is either a weak or a proud man, and ingratitude +cannot exist; unless by ingratitude injustice be meant. Frank's +opinions appear to Clifton to be equally novel with mine; and must be +well understood, to escape being treated with mockery. + +It is infinitely pleasing to me to perceive the fortitude with which +Frank resists inclination. He is almost as cheerful, and quite as +communicative, and desirous of making all around him happy, as ever. +His constancy, however, is not to be shaken, in one particular. I could +wish it were! It pains me to recollect that he will _persist, to the +end of time, in thinking me his, by right!_ + +I cannot proceed! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LIV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +Laugh at me if you will, Fairfax. Hoot! Hiss me off the stage! I am no +longer worthy of the confraternity of honest, bold, free and successful +fellows. I am dwindling into a whining, submissive, crouching, very +humble, yes if you please, no thank you Madam, dangler! I have been to +school! Have had my task set me! Must learn my lesson by rote, or there +is a rod in pickle for me! Yes! I! That identical Clifton; that bold, +gay, spirited fellow, who has so often vaunted of and been admired for +his daring! You may meet me with my satchel at my back; not with a +shining, but a whindling, lackadaisy, green-sickness face; blubbering a +month's sorrow, after having been flogged by my master, beaten by my +chum, and dropped my plum cake in the kennel. + +'Tis very true, and I cut a damned ridiculous figure! But I'll remember +it. The time will come, or say my name is not Clifton. + +Yet what am I to do? I am in for it, flounder how I will. Yes, yes! She +has hooked me! She dangles me at the end of her line, up the stream and +down the stream, fair water and foul, at her good pleasure! So be it. +But I will not forget. + +Then she has such a way of affronting, that curse me if she does not +look as if she were doing me a favour: nay and, while she is present, I +myself actually think she is; and, if vexation did not come to my +relief, I believe I should so continue to think. She is the most +extraordinary of all heaven's creatures: and, in despite of my railing, +I cannot help declaring a most heavenly creature she is! Every body +declares the same. I wish you could but see her; for a single moment, +Fairfax; and, having gazed, could you but listen!--Her very soul is +music. Form, features, voice, all are harmony. Then were you to hear +her sing, and play-- + +But why the devil does she treat me thus? It is something to which I am +unaccustomed, and it does not sit easily upon me. If I tamely submit to +it may I--! I lie, in my teeth! Submit I must, bounce how I will. I +have no remedy-- + +She gives me the preference, 'tis true. But what sort of a preference? +Why a cold, scrutinizing, very considerative, all wisdom and no +passion preference. I do not think there is, upon the face of the whole +earth, so nauseous a thing as an over dose of wisdom; mixed up, +according to the modern practice, with a quantum sufficit of virture, +and a large double handful of the good of the whole. Yet this is the +very dose she prescribes for me! Ay, and I must be obliged to swallow +it too, let me make what wry faces I please, or my very prudent lady is +not so deeply in love but she can recede! And shall I not note down +this in my tablets?-- + +I was sufficiently piqued at the first delay. Why delay, when I offer? +Would you have thought, Fairfax, I should have been so very ready with +a tender of this my pleasant person, and my dear freedom? And could +you moreover have thought it would have been so haughtily +rejected?--No--Curse it! Let me do her justice, too. It is not +haughtily. She puts as many smiles, and as much sweetness, and +plausibility, into her refusal as heart could desire. But refusal it +is, nevertheless. + +I must be further just to her: I must own that I have acted like a +lunatic--I am mad at the recollection!-- + +I told you of the young fellow--Frank Henley--Whom I talked of +chastising. Curse on my petulance! He has doubly chastised me since! He +has had his full revenge! And in such a generous, noble manner--I am +ashamed of myself--He has saved my life, and damn me if I do not feel +as if I could never forgive him. There was an end of me and my +passions. What business had he to interfere?--He did it too in such an +extraordinary style! He appears to have risked more, laboured more, +performed more for me than man almost ever did for his dearest and +sworn friend. + +Mine was an act of such ridiculous phrensy that I am half ashamed +to tell what it was. I jumped headlong down a declivity, because I +knew I was a good swimmer, into a lake; but, like a blockhead, never +perceived that I should get stunned by the shelving of the rock, and +consequently drowned. And for what, truly? Why to prove to a vapouring, +crack-brained French Count, that he was a coward; because perhaps he +had not learned to swim! When I look back I have absolutely no patience +with myself!-- + +And then this generous Frank Henley!--After a still more seemingly +desperate leap than mine, and bringing me out of the water, dead as a +door nail, two hours did he incessantly labour to restore me to life! +I, who a few hours before had struck him! And here do I live to relate +all this! + +I think I could have forgiven him any thing sooner than this triumph +over me. Yet he claims and forces my admiration. I must own he is a +dauntless fellow--Yes, he has a heart--! Damn him! I could kiss him one +minute and kill him the next! + +He has been the hero of the women ever since. But they are safe enough, +for him. He has principles! He is a man of virtue, forsooth! He is not +the naughty cat that steals the cream! Let him be virtuous. Let him +lave in his own imaginary waters of purity; but do not let him offend +others, every moment, by jumping out and calling--'Here! Look at me! +How white and spotless I am!' + +As I tell you, the women are bewitched to him; are all in love with +him! My sister, Louisa, does not scruple to tell him so, in her letter! +But she is one of these high-flyers. Nor can I for the soul of me +persuade myself that, family pride excepted, she--ay, she herself, my +she, would not prefer him to me. But these gentry are all so +intolerably prudent that, talk to them of passions, and they answer +they must not have any. Oh, no! They are above such mundane weakness! + +As for him, he sits in as much stern state as the Old Red Lion of +Brentford. Yes, he is my Lord Chief Justice Nevergrin! He cannot +qualify, he! He is prime tinker to Madam Virtue, and carries no +softening epithets in his budget. Folly is folly, and vice vice in his +Good Friday vocabulary--Titles too are gilt gingerbread, dutch dolls, +punch's puppet show. A duke or a scavenger with him are exactly the +same--Saving and excepting the aforesaid exceptions, of wisdom, virtue, +and the good of the whole! + +Did you never observe, Fairfax, how these fellows of obscure birth +labour to pull down rank, and reduce all to their own level? + +Not but it is cursed provoking to be obliged to own that a title is no +sufficient passport for so much as common sense. I sincerely think +there is not so foolish a fellow in the three kingdoms, as the noble +blockhead to whom I have the honour to be related, Lord Evelyn: and, +while I have tickled my fancy with the recollection of my own high +descent, curse me if I have not blushed to acknowledge him, who is the +head and representative of the race, as my kinsman! I own however he +has been of some service to me in the present affair; for by his medium +I have been introduced to the uncle of my deity, Lord Fitz-Allen, who +has considerable influence in the family, and the very essence of whose +character is pride. He is proud of himself, proud of his family, proud +of his titles, proud of his gout, proud of his cat, proud of whatever +can be called _his_; by which appellation in his opinion his very +coach-horses are dignified. I happen to please him, not by any +qualities of mind or person, of which he is tolerably insensible, but +because there is a possibility that I may one day be a peer of the +realm, if my booby relations will but be so indulgent as to die fast +enough. + +Once more to these catechumenical inspectors of morality, these +self-appointed overseers of the conscience. + +I do not deny that there is some nay much truth in the doctrines they +preach to me. But I hate preaching! I have not time to be wisdom +crammed. What concern is it of mine? What have I to do with the world, +be it wrong or right, wise or foolish? Let it laugh or cry, kiss or +curse, as it pleases! Like the Irishman in the sinking ship, "Tis +nothing to me, I am but a passenger." + +But, notwithstanding these airs, I have my lesson set me. Ay and I must +con it too; must say it off by rote; no parrot better! + +There is no resisting one's destiny; and to be her slave is preferable +to reigning over worlds! You have, for you can have, no conception of +her and her omnipotence! She is so unlike every other woman on earth! I +wonder while I hear her, am attentive, nay am convinced! What is most +strange, though the divinest creature that ever the hand of Heaven +fashioned, the moment she begins to speak you forget that she is +beautiful! + +But she should not hesitate, when I offer. No--She should beware of +that! At least to any other woman the world contains, it would have +been dangerous; and I am not sure that even she is safe. + +However, I must learn to parse my lesson, for the present, and be +quiet. Yes, yes; she shall find me very complaisant. I must be so, for +live without her I cannot. She must she shall be mine. It is a prize +which I am born to bear away from all competitors. This is what +flatters and consoles me. + +You, Fairfax, think yourself more in luck. You continue to range at +large. You scorn to wear the chain to-day which you cannot shake off +laughingly to-morrow. Well I envy you not--When you see her, if you do +not envy me may I be impaled and left to roast in the sun, a banquet +for the crows. + +Good night. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LV + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_ + +Some events have happened, since I wrote to thee, on which I meant to +have been silent, till we had met; but I want thy advice on a new +incident, and must therefore briefly relate what has passed. I have had +an opportunity of appeasing that hungry vanity, which is continually +craving after unwholesome food. I have proved to Clifton that it was +not fear which made me submit to obloquy, which in his opinion could +only be washed away in blood. I have been instrumental in saving his +life. + +There is a half lunatic count, who was a visitor at the Chateau, and +who is enamoured of her whom all are obliged to love and admire. I know +not whether it be their climate, their food, their wine, or these +several causes combining and strengthened by habit, or whether it be +habit and education only which give the natives of the south of France +so much apparently constitutional ardour; but such the fact appears to +be. This count is one of the most extravagant of all the hot-brained +race I have mentioned. He indulges and feeds his flighty fancy by +reading books of chivalry, and admiring the most romantic of the +imaginary feats of knight-errantry. + +The too haughty Clifton, angry that he should dare to address her to +whom he openly paid his court, fell into habitual contests with him, +daring him to shew who could be most desperate, and at last gave a +tolerably strong proof that, though he has an infinitely more +consistent mind, he can be at moments more mad than the count himself. +He leaped down a rock into a lake, where it is probable he must have +perished, but for me. + +One would have imagined that what followed would have cooled even a +Marseillian fever of such phrensy. But no: the count has been brooding +over the recollection, till he had persuaded himself he was a +dishonoured man, and must find some means to do away the disgrace. I +thought him gone to Fontainebleau; but instead of that he has just been +here. He came and inquired of the servants for the monsieur who had +taken the famous leap; cursing all English names, as too barbarous to +be understood by a delicate Provencal ear, and wholly incapable of +being remembered. The servants, thinking he meant me, for I was obliged +to leap too, introduced him to my apartment. + +Luckily Clifton was out for the day. She and Sir Arthur were with +him. I am hourly put to the trial, Oliver, of seeing him +preferred--But--Pshaw-- + +After a torrent of crazy compliments from the count, who professes to +admire me, I learned at last it was Clifton and not me he wanted; and I +also learned in part what was the purport of his errand. His mind was +too full not to overflow. Knowing how hot, unruly, and on such subjects +irrational, the spirits were that were in danger of encountering, I was +immediately alarmed. The most effectual expedient I could conceive to +prevent mischief was to shew its actual absurdity. I saw no better way +than that of making it appear, as it really was, its tragical +consequences excepted, ludicrous. But the difficulty was to give it the +colouring which should produce that effect on a mind so distorted. + +_Mort de ma vie!_ said the count, I shall never pardon myself for +having lost so fine an opportunity! I am not so heavy as he. I should +not have been hurt by the fall. I should have saved the life of my +rival, and been admired by the whole world! My triumph would have been +complete! Every gazette in Europe would have trumpeted the exploit; and +the family of Beaunoir would have been rendered famous, by me, to all +eternity! No! I never shall forgive myself! + +I think, sir, you ought rather to be angry with me than with Mr. +Clifton. + +_Parbleu!_ I have been thinking of that. Why did you prevent me? The +thought could not long have escaped me, if you had not been in such +devilish haste! + +True. The only danger was that, while you were waiting for the thought, +the gentleman might have been drowned. + +_Diable m'emporte_! I had forgotten that. Well then, I must have +satisfaction of Monsieur Calif--Morbleu!--What is the gentleman's name? + +[I wish I could confide enough in my French to write the dialogue in +the language in which it passed; but I must not attempt it. The ideas +however are tolerably strong in my memory, and they must suffice.] + +Clifton. + +_Oui da_--Califton--Monsieur Califton must give me satisfaction for the +_sanglante_ affront I have received. + +But I cannot conceive, sir, how any man's thinking proper to kill +himself can be an affront to another. + +_Comment, Monsieur? Peste!_ But it is, if he kill himself to prove me a +coward! + +Then, sir, I am afraid there is not a madman in Bedlam who does not +daily affront the whole world. + +How so, sir? + +By doing something which no man in his senses dare imitate. + +_Nom d'un Dieu! Monsieur_, I am a man of honour! The family of Beaunoir +is renowned for its noble feats, it shall not be disgraced by me. I +have been defied, and I will have satisfaction. + +But you were not defied to sword, or pistol. You were defied to leap. + +Well, sir? + +And before, as a man of honour, you can have any right to give a second +challenge, you must answer the first. + +Is that your opinion, sir? + +Nay, I appeal to yourself. + +_Allons_!--If so, I must leap! Will you do me the favour to accompany +me? I will order post-horses instantly. You shall be my witness that I +perform the first condition. + +Can you swim? + +_Ventrebleu_! What a question! I am not heavy enough to sink. Besides, +sir, I was born at Marseilles.--Yes, we will go together; you shall see +me make the leap; after which I may then return and publish my defiance +to the whole universe. + +No, sir! If you leap you will never publish your defiance! + +How so? + +You will be killed! The whole universe could not save you! + +_Comment, diable_! Look at me! Look at Monsieur Calif! I am as light +as--! _Peste_! + +Yes; but you are not so strong as he: you cannot leap so far. His +effort was prodigious! I have examined the place: and, had he fallen +half a foot short of where he did, he must have been dashed to pieces. + +_Fer et feu_!--In that case, I must die!--Yes, I must die! There is no +remedy! I must not dishonour my family! No man on earth must brave the +Count de Beaunoir! I must die! + +And be laughed at? + +Laugh, sir! _Mort de ma vie_! Who will dare to laugh? When you are +dead, of what should they be afraid? + +_Morbleu_! That's true. + +He would be a rash fool who should dare to laugh at you while you are +living. + +_Foi d'un honnete homme, monsieur_, you are a man of honour: a +gentleman. You are brave yourself, and know how to honour brave men, +and I esteem you. + +Sir, if you really esteem me-- + +_Ventrebleu_! Sir, I esteem you more than any man on earth! Command my +purse, my sword! I would serve you at the hazard of my life! + +Then let me prevail on you, sir, to consider well what I say. I +solemnly assure you, I would not advise you to any thing which I would +not do myself. + +_Pardieu_! _Monsieur_, I am sure you would not. You have too much +honour. + +I have too much regard to truth. + +_C'est la meme chose_[1]. + +[Footnote 1: That is the same thing.] + +Men honour themselves most by opposing, nay by acting in the very teeth +of the prejudices of mankind; and he is the bravest man who opposes +them the oftenest. The world makes laws, and afterward laughs at or +despises those by whom they are obeyed. He proves the nobleness of his +nature best who acts with most wisdom. Recollect the madness with which +Mr. Clifton acted, how much he was blamed by every body, and imagine to +yourself the temper of your own countrymen; then ask whether you would +not be laughed at, instead of applauded and admired, were you so madly +to throw away a life which you ought to dedicate to your country. The +Parisians would write epigrams, and songs, and sing them in every +street, on the nobleman who, instead of living to fight the battles of +his country, should toss himself like a lunatic down a rock, and dash +out his brains. + +_Que Dieu me damne, monsieur_, but you are in the right! Yes! I am a +soldier! My country claims my sword! I hear we are soon to have a war +with England; and then--! _Gardez-vous bien, Messieurs les +Anglois_[1]!--Where is Monsieur Calif--? + +[Footnote 1: Englishmen, beware!] + +Mr. Clifton will not be at home to-day. + +Well, sir, be so kind as to present my compliments to him, and tell him +I would certainly have run him through the body, if you had not done me +the honour to say all that you have said to me. I have appointed to set +off for Fontainebleau tomorrow morning; but I intend to visit England: +we may have the good fortune hereafter to meet, and then we will come +to an explanation. + +After a thousand whimsical, half crazy but well meaning, and I believe +very sincere compliments, and offers of service, he left me; and I hope +the danger is over. + +But as I told thee, Oliver, the chief purpose of my writing is to ask +thy advice. Principle, as thou well knowest, is too severe to admit of +falsehood; direct, or indirect. To mention this dialogue to Clifton +might be dangerous. It ought not to be, I grant, but still it might. +One would imagine that, instead of feeling anger, he must laugh, were +he told of what has passed: but there is no certainty. And is not +silence indirect falsehood? The count has been here; his errand was to +Clifton. Ought he not to be told of it, and suffered to judge for +himself? And is not concealment an indirect falsehood? To me it appears +the contrary. He is full as likely to take the wrong as the right side +of the question. I see a possibility of harm, but no injury that can be +done by silence. Nor do I myself perceive how it can be classed among +untruths. Still the doubt has occurred to my mind, and I have not +hitherto answered it to my own satisfaction. + +I forgot to tell thee with what ardour the count declared himself an +admirer of her who is most admirable; and the romantic but very serious +effervescence with which he called himself her champion; one who had +devoted himself to maintain her superiority over her whole sex, which +he would die affirming; and to revenge her wrongs, if ever mortal +should be daring or guilty enough to do her injustice. But as I tell +thee he is an eccentric and undefinable character. + +I have lately received a letter from my father, from which I find he +has been led, by I know not what mistake, to conclude that Sir Arthur +thinks of me for his son-in-law. His letter, as usual, is a strange +one; and such as I believe no man on earth but himself could write. + +Direct thy next to me in Grosvenor Street; for we shall be on our +return, before I shall receive an answer. + +Farewell. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LVI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +What strange perversity of accidents is it, Louisa, that has made me +most deeply indebted to that man, above all others on the face of the +earth, who thinks I have treated him unjustly? We are under fresh +obligations, nay in all probability we again owe our lives to Frank +Henley. + +We left Paris on Sunday last; and, after waiting a day and a night for +a fair wind at Calais, we embarked on board the packet-boat; the wind +still continuing unfavourable, though it had changed a little for the +better. The channel was very rough, and the water ran high, when we +went on board. Sir Arthur would willingly have retreated; but Clifton +was too impatient, and prevailed on him to venture. + +Before we had reached the middle of the channel, Laura, Sir Arthur, and +soon afterward I, were very sea-sick. It is a most disagreeable +sensation when violent, and would certainly be more effectual in +rendering a coward fearless of death than the dying sentiments of +Seneca, or Socrates himself. + +The wind increased, and the captain laboured several hours, but in +vain, to make the port of Dover. He at last told us we were too late +for the tide, and that the current set against us, and must drive us +down to Deal. We proceeded accordingly, and it was dark before we came +within sight of the town of Deal; where the captain, in the sea phrase, +was obliged to come to an anchor. + +The Deal boatmen, who are always on the watch, and are the most noted +as we are told on the whole coast for their extortion, soon came up to +the ship, inviting us to be put on shore, but refusing to take us for +less than ten guineas. Frank and Sir Arthur were desirous that we +should not be imposed upon; but Clifton pleaded my sea sickness, and +would not listen to any proposal of delay. He is very peremptory, when +his passions are excited; and especially when he conceives, as he then +did, that reason is on his side. There were three boats; but they had +agreed among themselves, and two of them kept aloof. This we are told +is their common practice, that they may not spoil their market by +competitorship. + +We were not above a mile from shore: Clifton however agreed to their +extravagant demand, and we went into the boat. + +We had not been there many minutes before we perceived that the five +boatmen, who managed it, were all in liquor, especially he who seemed +to be their head man; and that we were much more at the mercy of winds +and waves, in our present than in our former situation. Clifton and +Frank endeavoured to make them attentive, by reproving them; and +probably did some good; though the answers they received, in the rugged +vulgar idiom of the sea, were not very conciliatory. We were much +tossed by the roughness of the water, but made however toward the +shore, though evidently in an awkward and dangerous way. + +Most part of the beach, at Deal, is excessively steep; and, when the +weather is stormy, the waves break against it very abruptly, and +dangerously to boats which are managed by men that are either ignorant +or have drunken away their senses. When the boat approached the beach, +the man at the helm, being stupid and it being dark, did not do his +duty, and the side of the boat was dashed against the beach. The shock +almost overset the boat, and it was half filled by the wave which broke +over it. The water is always a fickle and perilous element; but in an +agitated sea, when the winds howl and the waves roar, foam, dash, +retreat, and return with additional threats and raging, it is then +truly terrific! I shall never forget that night! I think on it even now +with horror! One of those poor drunken creatures, Louisa, was in an +instant washed overboard and lost; almost without a cry; not heard, not +aided, scarcely remarked; no attempt made to save him, for all attempt +was absolutely impossible: we were within a few yards of land, yet were +ourselves almost certain of perishing. The remaining men were little +better than helpless; for it was the most active of them who was thus +miserably drowned!--Indeed, Louisa, it was dreadful! + +The reflux of the water was in half a minute likely to be equally +violent. Frank, whose presence of mind never forsakes him, saw what the +nature of our danger was; and, shaking off poor Laura, who clung round +him, begging of him for God's sake to save her precious life, he flew +to the helm, turned the head of the boat in its proper direction, and +called with that imperious kind of voice which on such occasions +enforces obedience, for somebody to come to the helm. Clifton was there +in an instant. Keep it, said Frank, in this position. + +Every motion was necessarily rapid. Frank was immediately out of the +boat, and almost up to the shoulders in the sea. He caught hold of the +side of the boat, retreated a step or two, set his feet against the +steep beach, and steadied it, to resist the returning wave. It had no +sooner retreated than he called to me, took me in his arms, and in a +moment I found myself in safety on shore! + +He returned and brought my father next! + +Poor Laura shrieked, with fear and impatience! She was the third whom +he landed. + +He then ordered the boatmen to take care of themselves; and, drunk and +refractory though they were, they did not neglect to obey the mandate. +After which Clifton, leaving the helm, jumped into the water, the +servants having gone before, and we all found ourselves safe, after +some of us had concluded we were lost beyond redemption. + +Our peril appears to have been wholly owing to the inebriety of the +boatmen; for, had they been able to do their duty, there would have +been none, or certainly very little: and it was averted by the active +and penetrating mind of Frank, which seems as if it were most accurate +and determined, in its conclusions and expedients, in proportion to the +greatness of the danger, when common minds would be wholly confused and +impotent. + +Clifton, though he did not so immediately perceive what was best to be +done, saw the propriety of it when doing, and immediately assented, and +aided, by keeping the boat in the position Frank directed, almost as +essentially as his co-adjutor. I am more and more convinced it is +accident only that has kept him from possessing one of the most +enlarged of human understandings. But I must likewise allow that this +said accident has rendered him petulant, impatient of contradiction, +too precipitate to be always aware of mistake, and too positive to be +easily governed. But these are habitual errors, which time and care +will cure. + +I must add too that his affection for me displays itself in a thousand +various forms. He is apparently never satisfied, except when it is +exercised to give or procure me pleasure. I know not whether the +passion, which infuses itself into all his words and actions that +relate to me, ought to inspire all that sympathetic sensibility which +he intends; but I own it sometimes alarms me. His ardour is +astonishing. He seems to wish, and even to design, to make it +irresistible. Yet it is mingled with such excess of tenderness that I +have half lost the power of repressing it. + +But I must not, no, I will not, stand in awe of his impetuosity. Ardour +is a noble quality, and my study shall be how to turn it to his +advantage. The more I look round me the more I perceive that fear +enfeebles, withers, and consumes the powers of mind. Those who would +nobly do must nobly dare. Rash people, perhaps, are those who feel the +truth of this principle so strongly that they forget it is necessary +not only to dare, but to discover the best method of daring. + +Clifton now avoids argument, and appears systematically determined to +be of my opinion; or rather to say as I say. The only opposition he +affords is now and then a witty, sarcastic, or humorous reply. But he +is generally successful in his continual attempts to give the +conversation a new turn, when his favourite opinions are opposed: for I +do not think it wise to obtrude too many painful contradictions upon +him at a time. Truth must be progressive. Like a flash of lightning, it +stuns or kills by excess. + +Clifton will not long suffer me to rest, now we are returned; and +consequently my dear Louisa may soon expect another letter from her +most affectionate. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LVII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +We have now been in London four days, Oliver; and, known places +reviving old ideas, it almost seems as if we had never moved from the +spot where we are at present. I fall into the same trains of thinking; +except that I am more restless, more inclined to melancholy, to +inaction, to a kind of inanity, which no trifling efforts can shake +off. + +I have received thy letter, and find thy reasoning in some respects +similar to my own. I was ashamed of remaining in doubt, on a question +which only required a little extraordinary activity of mind to resolve. +It appears to me that nothing can be classed among falsehoods, except +those things the tendency of which is to generate falsehood, or +mistake. Consequently, not to tell what has passed to Clifton is acting +according to the dictates of truth: for, to tell would be to run an +imminent danger of false conclusions. Not, it is true, if the whole +could be told: that is, if all possible reasonings, and consequences, +could be fairly recollected, and stated. But memory is first to be +feared; and still more that prejudice which will not have the patience +to lend mute attention. I therefore think, with thee, that silence in +this case is truth. + +We have been in some danger, owing to the drunkenness of the Deal +boatmen; but saved ourselves by a little exertion. One of the poor +inebriated wretches however was lost. We saw him only the instant of +his being washed overboard; and he was hurried away into the sea by the +recoiling waves, in the roaring of which his last cry was overpowered, +without our being able so much as to attempt to give him aid! By which +thou mayest judge that we ourselves were in considerable jeopardy. + +When we reflect how near danger is to us, daily and hourly through +life, we are apt to wonder that we so continually escape. But, when we +again consider how easily even great dangers, that is such as take us +by surprise, may be warded off, the wonder ceases. + +My mind, Oliver, is not at ease: it is too much haunted by fear. At +least I hope it is; for my fears are for one whom it is almost torture +to suppose in peril. Thou never knewest so enterprising, so encroaching +a youth as this Clifton! Nay I am deceived if encroachment be not +reduced to system with him; and, strong as her powers are, impossible +as I know it to be to shake her principles, yet, who can say what may +happen, in a moment of forgetfulness, or mistake, to a heart so pure, +so void of guile? + +Such terrors are ridiculous, perhaps thou wilt say; and perhaps they +are; at least I most devoutly hope they are. But his temperament is +sanguine, his wishes restless, ungovernable, and I almost fear ominous, +and his passion for her is already far beyond the controul of reason, +to which indeed he thinks it ought not to be nor can be subject. + +As for me, all is ended. Jealous I must not, no, I will not be! And +surely I am above the meanness of envy. Yet I own, Oliver, I sometimes +blame her. I think her too precipitate, too fearless, nay too ready to +imagine her power, her wondrous power, greater than it is. She makes no +secret of her thoughts, and she tells me that she and I, she doubts +not, shall transform him to all that we ourselves could desire. Be not +surprised at her kindness to me; for she has a heart that is all +benevolence, all friendship, all affection. If I can aid her, thou +needest not doubt my will. But Heaven grant she may not be +mistaken!--Heaven grant it! + +And yet, I cannot say. I even sometimes hope and acquiesce; for his +talents are indeed extraordinary. But his pride, and the pitiless +revenge which he shews a constant propensity to take, when offended, +are dangerous symptoms. + +For her, she seems to act from motives wholly different from those of +her age and sex. It is not passion, not love, such as it is usually +felt and expressed; it is a sense of duty, friendship for Louisa, +admiration of great talents, an ardent desire to give those talents +their full value, and the dignified pride she takes in restoring such a +mind to its proper rank. By these she is actuated, as all her words and +actions demonstrate. + +Well, well, Oliver! She soars a flight that is more than mortal! But +she leaves a luminous track, that guides and invites, and I will +attempt to follow. Thou shall see me rise above the poor slavish wishes +that would chain me to earth!-- + +Oliver, my mind, like a bow continually bent, is too much upon the +stretch. Such is the effect of my situation, of which my thoughts, my +language, and my actions partake. But I will calm this agitation. Fear +not: thou shall find me worthy to be thy friend, and the pupil of thy +most excellent father. + +No! I will not, Oliver, be a child; though the contest be indeed +severe. By day I am with her; for hours I listen, while she sings, or +plays, or speaks. I am a witness of her actions! Her form is never +absent from me! The sound of her voice is unceasing harmony to my ears! +At night, retiring to darkness and thought, I pass her chamber door! In +the morning again I behold the place where all that is heavenly rests! +I endeavour after apathy. I labour to be senseless, stupid, an idiot! I +strain to be dead to supreme excellence! But it is the stone of +Sisyphus, and I am condemned to eter--! + +Indeed, Oliver, his weakness is momentary! Indeed it is--Fear not: thou +shall find me a man; be assured thou shalt. Though the furies, or, +worse than all that invention can feign, the passions throng to assault +me, I will neither fly nor yield. For to do either would be to desert +myself, my principles, my duties. + +Yet this encroaching spirit that I told thee of!--But then, what is the +strength of him, compared to hers? What is there to fear? What do I +fear? Why create horrible shadows, purposely to encounter them?--No: it +cannot be! + +Farewell. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Your brother has gained his point. The deed is done. My consent is +given. For, in reality, to have withheld it would have had more the +appearance of a coquette than of the friend of my Louisa. After +sufficiently strong hints in the course of the two first days, on the +third after our arrival, Clifton came. His intention was evidently to +take no denial. It was with difficulty that I could bring him to +listen, for a few minutes, while I repeated principles before declared, +and required an avowal of how far he thought them an impediment to +future happiness. To every thing I could ask he was ready to accede. +'He had nothing to contend, nothing to contradict; and, if he did not +think exactly like me in every particular, he was determined not to +think at all, till he could. Beside, my own conclusions, in favour of +truth, were my safeguard. I had not any doubt that reason, if attended +to, must finally prevail; and I could not deny that he was at all times +ready to pay the strictest attention.' + +Indeed he seemed at first resolved, as it were, not to enter into any +conversation, but to claim my promise. But I was still more determined +to exert myself; that the due influence which reason ought always to +have, over passion, might not be lost, and sink into habitual and timid +concession. When he perceived there was no resisting, he then listened +with a tolerably good grace; but still, as I said, with an apparently +preconcerted plan not to contend; urging, and indeed truly, that fair +arguments could desire nothing more than patient hearing; and this he +pledged, in his energetic and half wild manner, honour, body, and soul +to give. I could not desire more sincere asseverations than he made; +and that they were sincere I cannot doubt. Nor do I regret that they +were strong. Where there is energy there is the material of which mind +is fashioned: and the fault must be mine, if the work be incomplete. +Our conversation however was long; and when at last obliged to enter +into the subject, the acuteness and depth of his remarks were strong +proof of his powers, had any proof been wanting--Yes, Louisa, the +attempt must be made. It is a high and indispensable duty; and I must +neither be deterred by the dread of danger, nor swayed by the too +seducing emotions of the heart--They must be silenced!--They must! + +I have an assistant worthy of the cause. Frank does not shrink from the +task: though it is but too evident that he has not changed his opinion! +I know not why, but so it is, those two particular sentences +continually reverberate in my ear--_I feel a certainty of conviction, +that you act from mistaken principles_--_To the end of time I shall +persist in thinking you mine by right_!--Oh, Louisa! + +Sir Arthur of course made no difficulty in giving his consent; I +imagine Mrs. Clifton will this post receive a letter from her son, and +perhaps another from my father, requiring her acquiescence. + +Sir Arthur has shewn me one of the most strange, eccentric, and perhaps +comic letters, from _honest Aby_, that I think I ever read. I am glad +it is not quite so intelligible to Sir Arthur as it is to me; for I see +no good that could result, were he to understand its true sense. The +old--! I can find no epithet for him that pleases me--Well +then--_Honest Aby_ is excessively anxious that I should marry a son of +whom he is so unworthy. But his motives are so mean, so whimsical, and +so oddly compounded and described, peering as it were through the mask +of cunning, with which he awkwardly endeavours to conceal them, that +nothing but reading his letter can give you an idea of its +characteristic humour. This post I suppose will likewise shew him his +mistake. How he will receive the news I know not; though I suspect he +will raise obstacles, concerning the money which Sir Arthur wants, in +order to pay my portion. But this will soon be seen. + +I likewise learn, from his letter, that my brother is to join in +docking the entail of the hereditary estate; and that he is willing, +provided he may share the spoil. How would my heart bleed, were I not +cured of that prejudice which makes happiness consist in the personal +possession of wealth! But the system of tyranny would be more firm and +durable even than it is, did not this mutation of property daily exist; +and were not the old and honourable families, as they call themselves, +brought to ruin by their foolish and truly dishonourable descendants. + +Every thing confirms me in the suspicion that honest Aby has been +playing a deep game; and that both Sir Arthur and my brother have ceded +to all the extortions of craft and usury, to have their whims and +extravagancies supplied. + +My brother persuades himself that he is determined never to marry; and +I suppose has formed this determination purposely that he may spend all +he can obtain, without being teased by any qualms of conscience. For +the destructive system of individual property involves a thousand +absurdities; and the proud but inane successor of a Sydney or a +Verulam, instead of knowing how difficult the subject of identity +itself is, instead of perceiving that man is nothing but a continuity, +or succession of single thoughts, and is therefore in reality no more +than the thought of the moment, believes there is a stable and +indubitable affinity between him and his great ancestor. + +I must now be more than ever determined to accomplish the task I have +undertaken; and to give to the arms of my best, my dearest Louisa, a +brother worthy of a heart so pure, and a sister such as she herself +could wish to be that brother's other half--Very true, Louisa! It is +the old story: I am Sir Arthur's vapouring hussey! But I comfort myself +with reflecting that, after the battle is won, the rashness of the +attack is never remembered; or, if it be, it is always applauded; and +that all generals, great or small, confide in their own plans, till +defeat has proved them to be abortive. Something must be ventured, ere +any thing can be won. + +Not knowing what might be the notions of Sir Arthur, or even of Mrs. +Clifton, concerning the silence they might think it necessary to keep, +I forbore to mention their plan, of which my friend, with her +consistent frankness, informed me, till our last conference: but I +then thought it an indispensable duty to relate the truth; otherwise it +might have come, at some unlucky moment, in the disguise of falsehood, +and have done mischief. Secrets are indeed absolutely contrary to my +system. 'Tis pride or false shame that puts blinds to the windows +either of the house or of the mind. Let the whole world look in, and +see what is doing; that if any thing be wrong, it may have an +opportunity to reprove; and whatever is right there is some hope it may +imitate. Clifton was pleased to find himself treated with undisguised +sincerity. Yes, Louisa, fear not: you will find him your brother, in +virtue as well as in blood. + +Ever and ever most affectionately, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LIX + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to The Honourable Mrs. Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Dear Madam, + +Our plan has succeeded to our wish: Mr. Clifton is as I may say quite +smitten with my daughter. And indeed I do not wonder at it; for, though +she is my child, I must say, she is the sweetest, most charming, lovely +girl I ever beheld! She has always been my darling! I have a true +fatherly fondness for her; and, though I own it will not be very +convenient to me, I mean immediately to raise twenty thousand pounds, +to pay down as her portion. If at my death I should have the power to +do more, she shall not be forgotten: but I promise nothing. + +As I remember, dear madam, this was the sum which you said was +necessary, to redeem certain mortgages, pay off encumbrances, and +enable Mr. Clifton to appear in England, in a manner becoming the heir +of the Clifton family. And this sum I think it very fit the daughter of +Sir Arthur St. Ives should receive. I shall accordingly write to my +agent, and put every thing immediately in train; after which, you shall +hear from me without delay. + +If any alteration should have happened in your own views, or affairs, +which may impede or forward our plan, you will be kind enough to inform +me. + +I am, madam, with the truest respect, your very obedient humble +servant, + +A. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LX + +_Coke Clifton to The Honourable Mrs. Clifton_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +I write to you, dear and honoured madam, with a grateful and happy +heart, to thank you for a project so maternally and wisely conceived in +my favour, and of which I have just been informed, by the frank-hearted +and lovely Anna St. Ives. Of all the blessings for which, madam, I hold +myself indebted to you, this last, of discovering and endeavouring to +secure for your thankful son a gem so precious, a lady so above all +praise, I esteem to be the greatest. + +You, dear madam, are acquainted with the propriety with which she +thinks and acts, on every occasion; and I have no doubt will join with +me, in applauding the entire undisguisedness of relating all that had +passed, which appeared to her delicate mind at this moment to be +absolutely necessary. + +After obtaining her consent for that purpose, I have spoken to Sir +Arthur; who, at my request, has promised immediately to write to you. +And, it being a project, dear madam, a kind one, of your own forming, I +have no fear that it should be discountenanced by you. My only doubt is +of delay. Let me entreat you, my dear mother, to remove all impediments +with every possible speed; and not to lose a moment in writing to me, +as soon as you and Sir Arthur have arranged the business, that I may +solicit her, from whom I am certain to receive all possible bliss, to +name a time, when suspense shall joyfully end. + +Do not, dear madam, let impatience seem a fault in me. Remember the +lady; who she is, and all she is; and think, if her perfections could +make the impression which they seem to have done upon your heart, what +must they have made upon mine! I, who, with all the fire of youth and +constitutional eagerness, in consequence of your own wise plan, am +become a wishing and expecting lover! + +My sister, I am sure, is too generous, the happiness of her friend and +brother being pledged, not to join me in the request I now make: and I +certainly will not forget a kindness which, I acknowledge, I know not +how I shall ever repay. + +I am, dear madam, your ever affectionate and dutiful son, + +C. CLIFTON + + +END OF VOLUME III + + + + +VOLUME IV + + + +LETTER LXI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +I am caught, Fairfax! Spring guns and man traps have been set for me, +and I am legged! Meshed! Shot through the heart! I have been their +puppet! They have led me, with a string through my nose, a fine dance! +From the farthest part of all Italy here to London, in order to tie me +up! Noose me with a wife! And, what is more strange, I am thanking and +praising and blessing them for it, in spite of my teeth! I swallow the +dose as eagerly as if it had been prepared and sweetened by my own +hand; and it appears I have had nothing to do in the matter! I am a +mere automaton; and as such they have treated me! + +Is it not cursed odd that I cannot be angry? And yet, when I recollect +all this, I really suspect I am not pleased. Damn it! To be made their +convenient utensil! To be packed up, their very obedient jack in a +bandbox, and with a proper label on my back, posted with other lumber +from city to city, over hills and seas, to be taken out and looked at, +and if not liked returned as damaged ware! Ought I to sneak and submit +to this? Tell me, will not the court of honour hoot me out of its +precincts? Will not the very footmen point after me, with a 'There goes +the gentleman that miss had upon liking?' Why it is not yet full two +months, since I was the very prince of high blooded noble sportsmen, in +the romantic manors, domains, coverts and coveys of Venus! By what +strange necromancy am I thus metamorphosed, thus tamed? + +I feel myself a husband by anticipation! I am become as pretty a +modest, well-behaved, sober, sentimental gentleman, as any you shall +see on a summer's day! I get phrases by rote, and repeat them too! I +say 'God bless you, madam,' when the cat sneezes: and mumble amen to +grace after meat! + +I told you that I had my catechism to learn; and, what is worse, it is +not the questions and commands of good old mother church, with all the +chance-medley promises and vows of godfathers and godmothers made in my +name, [For which, by the bye, I think both godfathers and godmothers +are fools, and knaves.] but I have the Lord knows how much more to +learn than ever I supposed the most outrageous morality could have +exacted. And I am obliged to answer yes, and no, and I thank you +kindly, while my finger's ends are smoking, tingling, and aching under +the stroke of the ferula! Yes! I, Coke Clifton, with my sweetmeats in +one hand and my horn-book in the other, am whipped till I pule, coaxed +till I am quiet, and sent supperless to bed, if I presume to murmur! + +Why what the devil is the English of all this, say you, Clifton? What +does it mean? My head is so full of it, and I have it so all by rote +myself, that it had totally escaped me that every word I have uttered +must be heathen Greek to you. Nay I had forgotten to tell you we have +changed the scene, which now is London. + +And as for accidents, by sea and land, why we have had some of them +too. Frank Henley has again shewn his dexterity. I could eat my +fingers, to think that he should hit upon a certain and safe mode of +acting, in a moment of danger, sooner than I! But so it is. He seems +born to cross me! We should all have been tossed into the sea, and some +of us certainly drowned at the very water's edge, if we had not been +alert. He took the command upon himself, as imperiously as if it were +his by right indisputable; and I saw no expedient but to obey, or +perhaps behold her perish. For curse upon me if I know whether any +other motive, on earth, could have induced me to act as his +subordinate. But, as it was, I did as he bid me; and sat grinding my +teeth at the helm, while I saw him reap all the honour of taking her in +his arms; and after her the rest, and landing them in safety! If, +Fairfax, you can conceive any anguish on earth more excruciating than +this, why tell it; and you shall be appointed head-tormentor to the +infernal regions, for your ingenuity! + +What was I going to say?--My brain is as murky as the clouds under +which I am writing--Oh!--I recollect--She had no hand in spreading the +trammel, into which, buzzard like, I have been lured. It was the scheme +of my very good and careful mother; for which I have been very +sincerely writing her a letter with more thanks than words; and of the +wise Sir Arthur; who, wise though he be, is not one of the magi. She +knew nothing of it for some time, nor would have known but for my +communicative sister; and, as she scorns deception, for by my soul she +scorns every thing that is base, or derogatory, it was she who informed +me of the trap in which I have been taken; of which otherwise perhaps I +might have remained in eternal ignorance. + +But still and once again, say you, what trap? What do you mean?-- + +Three words will explain the whole. + +I have been brought from Naples to Paris, not as I supposed to settle a +few paltry debts of a deceased uncle, but to see, fall in love with, +and be rib-hooked to this angel. This my good mother as I understand +thinks the kindest act of her life.--Nay, I think so too; and yet I am +not satisfied. And merely I suppose because I feel I have been tricked. +I will not be the gull of man or woman. What is it to me that they mean +me well? I will judge for myself. It is insolent in any one to pretend +to know what befits me better than I myself know. + +In short, I would quarrel, and bounce, and curse a little, if I knew +how--But they offer an apology so ample, so irresistible, that there is +no demanding to exchange a shot; they present Anna St. Ives as their +excuse, and a fico for resentment. + +And now there is nothing on earth for which I so earnestly wish as to +be yoked! What think you, Fairfax; shall I bear my slavish trappings +proudly? Shall I champ upon the bit, and prance, and curvet, and shew +off to advantage? I doubt I shall stand in need of a little rough +riding. And yet I know not; let her but pat me on the neck, and whisper +two or three kind epithets in my ear, and she will guide me as she +pleases: at least she does. No! Hopes there are none of my ever again +returning to my native wilds, and delightful haunts! Never was seen so +fond a booby as I am, and am likely to remain! + +Nor do I believe I should grumble, had she not such a super-abundance +of discretion. She smiles upon me it is true; is all gentleness, all +benevolence; but then she does just the same to every body else. For my +part, I see no difference; except that I sometimes think she has a +kinder smile for Frank Henley than she ever yet had for me! But he is +just as discreet as herself; so that it seems impossible to be jealous. +Yet jealous I am! Ay and jealous I should be of my cat, if she were as +ready to purr and rear her back to be stroked by every coarse unwashed +hand as by mine. + +Is it not a cursed shame that, when you feel a continual propensity to +quarrel with a man, he should be such a prince Prim as never to give +you an opportunity? And why have I this propensity?--I know +not!--Confound the fellow, why does he make himself so great a +favourite? Why does he not contrive to be hated a little? And then +perhaps I might be induced to love him. I dislike to have friendship or +affection forced upon me, as a duty. I abhor duties, as I do shackles +and dungeons. Let me do what I like. I leave others to examine whether +or no my conduct be rational: 'tis too much trouble for me. + +This marriage is never out of my head! I wish for it, sigh for it, pray +for it, and dread it! It may well be said there is no resisting our +destiny! If I could but find out the key to her master passion--Well! +What then?--What do I want? What do I hope? To hope any thing short of +the noose is mere madness. Beside, could I think of living without +her?--No!--I would be eternally in her company, for she is eternal +novelty: she is all the world in one. She is herself a million of +individuals; and not the stale, dull repetition of the same; which is +so horrible to imagination. + +One thought has struck me.--She has the utmost confidence in what she +calls the force of truth. It cannot fail! That is her constant +language. I am to be her first convert. I have humoured this whim +lately; except when my irritable fancy breaks loose, and runs riot. If +she have any folly, it is this said confidence: and whether it be one, +or be not, is more than I have yet been able to determine. But she has +furnished me with an argument, which I might carry to I know not what +extent. 'You,' I urge to her, 'you need not act with the timid and +suspicious caution of your sex. You are sure of your principle; and to +proceed with distrust and fear would prove doubt instead of certainty.' +She boldly replies,--Yes, she is sure; and therefore she speaks and +behaves with all that undisguise and sincerity which are so uncommon in +the world, and which some would deem so blameable. + +She says true: she rises totally superior to the petty arts and tricks +of her sex. I seem to participate the trust which she reposes in +herself; and the confidence which she appears to place in me, when she +so openly declares all she thinks and all she means, is highly +pleasing. But, if my views were different from what they are, I doubt +whether madam Confidence might not be brought to lull madam Caution so +fast asleep, at some lucky moment or another, as to suffer me to +purloin her key, and afterward to rob her of all her treasure. Nor +should I fail, under certain circumstances, to try the experiment. + +Neither is that intriguing spirit which has so long been in restless +habits of continual pursuit entirely idle. My first care as usual was +to secure the prime-minister of my charmer, whose name is Laura. The +hussey is handsome, cunning, and not without ambition. An occasional +guinea and a few warm kisses, when it was certain that all was safe, +for caution is necessary, have bound her to me. The poor fool is fond +of me, and often finds some ingenious chambermaid's excuse to pay me a +visit. It does not appear that I shall need her agency; otherwise here +she is, properly prepared to be wholly at my devotion. Anna St. Ives +affords the fancy full employment; with any other woman an amour +without plot and stratagem, attack and defence, would be too insipid to +be endured. + +Not but I sometimes find my conscience reproach me, for suffering such +active talents as mine to lie concealed and unknown; being as they are +capable of acquiring renown so high. When in Italy, having even there, +in that land of artifice, rendered myself the superior of all +competitors, I used to glory in the havoc I should make on my return to +England. But this the will of fate opposes, at least for the present: +and of what duration my honeymoon is to be is more than any prescience +of mine can discover. + +Write, Fairfax, and tell me freely your opinion of all this; only +remember that, if you make your calculations and conclusions from any +comparison with woman whom you have ever yet seen, they will be all +error. Tell me however what you think, and all you think. + +I forgot to say that twenty thousand pounds is the sum to be paid me +down, for condescending to accept this jewel. I am informed it is +wanted, to pay off I know not what encumbrances and arrears--Pshaw!--I +care not--I have never yet troubled myself about wants, nor do I wish +to begin. My father lived fast, and died soon. Well! And is not that +better than croaking and crawling over this dirty globe, haunted by +razors, halters, and barebones, sobbing in your sleep, groaning when +awake, vegetating in sorrow, and dying in the sulks? Let me kick my +heels in mirth and sunshine. Or, if clouds intervene, let pleasure and +fancy create suns of their own. Those who like them, may find gloom and +November enough any day in the year. Tell me, Fairfax, may they not? +Write, and tell me. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXII + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +Honest Aby, + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +We are once more arrived in England; for which I am not sorry. Though I +cannot say that I repent my journey into France. My former suspicions +are confirmed: I had visited the country before, but at that time my +taste was not formed; I did not then understand laying out, and +improving, as I do at present. I had heard that the French had begun to +imitate our best gardens tolerably well; but I have seen some of those +that are in most fame, and what are they to Wenbourne-Hill?--No, no, +Aby.--I am now convinced that, as they say of their Paris, there is but +one Wenbourne-Hill. + +I do not know when the family will return to the country. The young +people wish to enjoy the diversions and pleasures of the town; and I +rather suppose we shall stay here all the winter. Perhaps we may take a +jaunt or two, between this and the meeting of parliament. Not that any +such plan is yet settled. And as for me, I shall be down with you +occasionally, as affairs shall require. I shall take great delight, in +once again treading over all my grounds, and walks, and dells; and in +visiting places that are never out of my mind. + +I cannot forget the hermitage, and the grotto, and the wilderness, of +which, the moment you mentioned them, I had formed so charming and so +excellent a plan. The picture clings to me, as it were; and it grieves +me to give it up. But so it must be. + +However, as I say, I shall come down more than once: and, for my part, +I wonder how these young unthinking people can prefer the dirty streets +of London, to all the delights and riches of nature, and of art; which +may be said to be waiting for and inviting them, at Wenbourne-Hill. + +I am very glad to find, honest Abimelech, that money is so certainly to +be had. But you were always intimate with the warm old fellows, that +provide themselves plentifully with what you so aptly call the +wherewithalls. You have followed their example, and learned to increase +your own store. I am glad of it, and am pleased to find you do not +forget your first and best friends. I must own, Abimelech, that you +have always appeared to me to understand your situation very properly, +and to pay respect where it was due. I have seen your proud, upstart +stewards carry their heads as high as their masters! Ay, and instead of +studying their tempers and humouring them, as it was their duty, have +been surly, and always ready with their ifs, and ands, and objections, +and advice! As if it were any concern of theirs, what a gentleman shall +please to do with his money! But you, Aby, have known how to comport +yourself better; of which I believe you have no cause to repent. + +As to the entail, as you say, it must be docked. I know no remedy. And +since my son is so positive, and determined to stickle for a good +bargain, why we must do the best we can. + +I was once sorry at his resolving never to marry; but I think that is +partly over now; I care little about the matter. My daughter's son will +be as much my grandchild as his son would have been; and, as for names, +they may easily be changed. I am certain, were any body to ask me which +is the wisest, my son or my daughter, I should not stop a moment to +consider about that. + +Ay, ay! She is my own child! Every body used to tell me, when she was a +baby, how like me she was! + +She has some of her mother's features too; who, as you well know, Aby, +was a very good sort of an excellent kind of a lady, and very much +respected: ay, very much. Indeed the greatest fault of Lady St. Ives +was that she would not always be of my opinion. But we are none of us +perfect. If it were not for that one thing, I really should think my +daughter a young lady of more good sense, and good taste, and indeed +every thing of that kind, than any young person I was ever acquainted +with: but she too is a declared enemy to planning, and improving. It is +very strange; and I can only say there is no accounting for these +things! + +My son however knows as little of the matter as she does; nay I believe +less. And, as to other kinds of knowledge, he is a child to her! It +delights me to hear her talk, and debate points, and chop logic, with +your Frank, who is one of her own sort; and with Mr. Clifton, the young +gentleman whom I intend for my son in law. I gave you an account in my +last, Aby, that the thing was in expectation; and it is now as good as +concluded. I have written to Mrs. Clifton; the lawyer is ordered to +make a rough sketch of marriage articles, and every thing will be got +ready, while my attorney is preparing the necessary deeds down in the +country, according to your instructions, and you are raising the money. + +Be sure however, honest Aby, to make as good a bargain for me as you +can. I know money is not to be had without paying for it; and I trust +to you not to suffer me to pay too dearly. Better security you know, +Aby, cannot be offered; and I begin to feel, my improvements excepted, +which indeed I hold to be inestimable, that I am not so rich as I was +fifteen years ago. But, as my son means never to marry, and as the +families of Clifton and St. Ives are to be united in one, I have no +doubt, some time or another before I die, of seeing every thing +retrieved; though I grant there are heavy mortgages, and other +impediments to overcome. + +Pray has my son told you what sum he expects? If not, endeavour to +learn, and let me know. Though on second thoughts you need not, for I +hear he is to be in town next week. He must recollect the estate of +eight hundred a-year, of which he has lately taken such violent +possession. But he is a dissipated young man, and recollects nothing +but his pleasures. + +I always said, Aby, you were a man of sense; and you are very right in +thinking I cannot do too much for my daughter. I hope to contrive to +leave Wenbourne Hill her own. It is a rich spot! And, though she be an +economist, and no friend to what she thinks a waste of money in +improvements, yet I am sure, at my request, she will not be guilty of +what I may well call sacrilege, and pull down my temples, and dedicated +groves, and relics of art, and ruins; nor, as my son would, destroy +with a Gothic hand, as the poet says, and tear away beauties, which it +would rend my heart-strings not to suppose durable, as I may say, for +ages! I would have my name, and my taste, and my improvements be long +remembered at Wenbourne Hill! I delight in thinking it will hereafter +be said--'Ay! Good old Sir Arthur did this! Yonder terrace was of his +forming! These alcoves were built by him! He raised the central +obelisk! He planted the grand quincunx!' And ah, Aby! if we could but +add, 'He was the contriver of yonder charming wilderness!' I then +should die in peace. + +Let me beg, good Abimelech, that you would write your thoughts in as +plain and straight forward a manner as you can; for, I assure you, I +have been very much puzzled with some parts of your last letter; which +I cannot yet say that I understand. In some places it is very plain +that you hint at Mr. Clifton, and wish me not to dally with him; and, +as I know you have my interest at heart, and speak in a style at which +no gentleman can be offended, why I rather thank than blame you, for +your desire to give good advice. Though I must say, Aby, that I do not +think I have any need of it. I am mistaken if I could not advise +others. I wish all the world would be governed by my plans, and +principles. That's a favourite word with my daughter, Aby, and a very +apt one. + +I once took some delight in such things; I mean in what is called +polite learning, Aby. Indeed I was remarkably fond of Ovid's +Metamorphoses. But then, as I did not like to puzzle myself with the +Latin, I read Garth's, or Rowe's, or Pope's, or I don't know whose +translation. And I do believe it was that, and a visit to Lord +Cobham's, which first made me study taste and improvement. Nothing is +wanting but riches, Aby, to proceed to much greater lengths than any we +have yet thought of. What richness of imagination is there in Ovid! +What statues might we form, from the wonderful tales which he relates! +Niobe at the head of the canal, changing into stone! To be sure we +should want a rock there. Then on one side Narcissus, gazing at himself +in the clear pool, with poor Echo withering away in the grove behind! +King Cygnus, in the very act of being metamorphosed into a swan, on the +other! It would be so apropos, you know; a swan, and a canal, and king +Cygnus! And then at the further end Daphne, with her arms and legs +sprouting into branches, and her hair all laurel leaves! + +You cannot imagine, Aby, all the fancies which came into my head the +other day, when I happened to lay my hand on Tooke's Pantheon, which +brought all these old stories fresh to memory. + +But, as I was saying, good Aby, write your thoughts as plainly as you +can; for I sometimes did not know whom you were talking of, and there +were one or two places which made me think you wish something should be +done for your son, Frank. And indeed he is a very deserving, and a very +fine young fellow; and I have been thinking it would not be amiss, +since he has really made himself a gentleman, if we were to purchase +him an ensign's commission. What say you to it, honest Aby? He would +make a fine officer! A brave bold figure of a man! And who knows but, +in time, he might come to be a general; ay and command armies! For he +fears nothing! He has lately saved us a dipping, nay and for aught I +know a drowning too, and we really should do something for him; for he +is a great favourite, and a very good young man. However, I thought it +best to mention the matter first to you, and will expect your answer. + +A. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +I must write, dear Louisa. My heart feels as if it were estranged by +silence, and thinks it has a thousand things to repeat; though, when it +comes to enquire what, they seem as if they had all vanished. Not but I +have a little incident to relate, which interests us both; the Dramatis +Personae being, as usual, Clifton, Frank Henley, and the friend of my +Louisa. + +We yesterday paid a visit to my aunt Wenbourne, at her summer villa of +Richmond. But I ought to premise, that I am sorry to see Clifton again +looking on Frank Henley with uneasiness, and a kind of suspicion that +might almost be called jealousy. + +Having consulted Sir Arthur, I mentioned it, as a pleasant excursion, +to Clifton; and added, as soon as Frank Henley should come, I would +desire him to hold himself in readiness. Sir Arthur was present; and +Clifton, in a pouting kind of manner, whispered me--'Can we never go +any where, without that young fellow dogging us at the heels?' + +I smiled it off, rapped him on the knuckles with my thimble, told him +he was naughty, and said we must not suffer merit to think itself +neglected. Clifton began to sing Britons strike home; which he soon +changed to Rule Britannia: sure tokens that he was not pleased; for +these are the tunes with which he always sings away his volatile +choler. But one of the columns, on which I raise my system is a +determination to persist in the right. Frank Henley was therefore +invited, and accompanied us. + +Clifton endeavoured to pout; but, as I did not in the least change my +good humour, knowing how necessary it was rather to increase than +diminish it, he could not long hold out, and soon became as cheerful +and as good company as usual; and his flow of spirits, and whimsical +combinations, are very exhilarating. + +After dinner, my good old aunt presently got to wordy wars with Frank; +in which, as you may suppose, she had little chance of victory. But she +called in Clifton, to be her auxiliary; and he fell into the same +pettish, half-haughty, half-contemning kind of manner, in which he had +so improperly indulged, previous to the accident of the lake, in +France. I looked at him; he understood me, and endeavoured, but rather +awkwardly, to change his tone. + +The conversation continued, and he was again becoming warm; and, while +Frank was laying down the law to my aunt, at which I could perceive his +tongue tingled, I took an opportunity to warn him to beware, for that I +had more than one crow to pluck with him already. + +However, as the best and securest mode was, from the temper of the +parties, to put an end to the conversation, I rose, and proposed a +walk, and my proposal was accepted. + +I was particularly cautious to say as little to Frank as I could, +purposely that Clifton might have no retort upon me; though a part of +my plan is to accustom him to see me just to the merits of Frank, +without indulging any unworthy suspicions. But this I did not think a +fit occasion for such experiments. + +We returned to town, and I purposed, when Clifton should come to pay me +his morning visit next day, to read him a gentle lecture. Of this he +was aware; and, feeling, as I suppose, that he should make a bad +serious defence, knew a comic one would better serve his turn: for his +fancy and humour appear to be inexhaustible. The first thing he did, +when he entered the room, was to fall down on his knees, like a child +to his school-mistress, holding his hands pressed flatly together, with +a piteous face and a 'Pray, pray!' I laughed, and told him he was a +very bad child. His 'Pray, pray!' was repeated, with another strangely +pleasant contortion of countenance. But I still answered--'No, +indeed--I should not forgive him, till I had made him truly sensible of +his fault.' On which he rose from his knees, pulled out a paper fool's +cap, which he had been carving and fashioning for himself, fixed it on +his head, and placed himself, with a new kind of penitential +countenance, in a corner; continuing such quaint mimickry, of a child +in sorrow, that there was no resisting fair and downright laughter. + +I still made two or three attempts to begin to argue; but they were +ineffectual; they were all answered with some new antics; and I was +obliged at last to say--'Well, well! I find you are sensible how much +you deserve punishment; and therefore I dare say you will take care not +to offend in future.' + +After this, he gave the whole discourse a comic and a witty cast, +embellishing it with all the flights of his rich and strong +imagination, on purpose to avoid the possibility of remonstrance. This +is a certain sign that it must be very painful to him; unless indeed we +allow for the pleasure which he cannot but take, in exhibiting the +activity of his mind. Yet painful I am sure it is. Contradiction is +thing to which he has not been accustomed. He has no doubt led the +opinions of his companions; partly by conforming to and strengthening +their favourite prejudices, though chiefly by his superior talents: and +to be too often encountered, by any one whose intellects are more clear +and consistent than his own, is a kind of degradation to which he +scarcely knows how to submit. + +With respect to Frank Henley, whenever he is pleading the cause of +truth, he is inflexible. I have sometimes indeed known him silent, when +he was hopeless of doing good: but at others I have heard him blame +himself for this, and assert that we never ought to despair; for that +truth, no matter how violently opposed at the moment, would revive in +the mind, and do her office, when the argument and the anger should be +wholly forgotten. + +I believe the observation to be just. But he is no common thinker! No! +I am almost persuaded he is the first of human beings! Equal, nay I +have sometimes even thought superior, to Louisa herself! + +As you perceive, dear friend of my heart, that I know you too well to +fear offending you, I am sure you will do me the justice at the same +time to confess that I do not seek to flatter. + +Thus, dear Louisa, you perceive, we do not perhaps make quite so swift +a progress as we could wish: but we must be satisfied. The march of +knowledge is slow, impeded as it is by the almost impenetrable forests +and morasses of error. Ages have passed away, in labours to bring some +of the most simple of moral truths to light, which still remain +overclouded and obscure. How far is the world, at present, from being +convinced that it is not only possible, but perfectly practicable, and +highly natural, for men to associate with most fraternal union, +happiness, peace, and virtue, were but all distinction of rank and +riches wholly abolished; were all the false wants of luxury, which are +the necessary offspring of individual property, cut off; were all +equally obliged to labour for the wants of nature, and for nothing +more; and were they all afterward to unite, and to employ the remainder +of their time, which would then be ample, in the promotion of art and +science, and in the search of wisdom and truth! + +The few arts that would then remain would be grand; not frivolous, not +the efforts of cunning, not the prostitution of genius in distress, to +flatter the vanity of insolent wealth and power, or the depraved taste +of an ill-judging multitude; but energies of mind, uniting all the +charms of fancy with all the severe beauties of consistent truth. + +Is it not lamentable to be obliged to doubt whether there be a hundred +people in all England, who, were they to read such a letter as this, +would not immediately laugh, at the absurd reveries of the writer?--But +let them look round, and deny, if they can, that the present wretched +system, of each providing for himself instead of the whole for the +whole, does not inspire suspicion, fear, disputes, quarrels, mutual +contempt, and hatred. Instead of nations, or rather of the whole world, +uniting to produce one great effect, the perfection and good of all, +each family is itself a state; bound to the rest by interest and +cunning, but separated by the very same passions, and a thousand +others; living together under a kind of truce, but continually ready to +break out into open war; continually jealous of each other; continually +on the defensive, because continually dreading an attack; ever ready to +usurp on the rights of others, and perpetually entangled in the most +wretched contentions, concerning what all would neglect, if not +despise, did not the errors of this selfish system give value to what +is in itself worthless. + +Well, well!--Another century, and then--! + +In the meantime, let us live in hope; and, like our worthy hero, Frank, +not be silent when truth requires us to speak. We have but to arm +ourselves with patience, fortitude, and universal benevolence. + +Pardon this prattle!--The heart will sometimes expand; and it is then +weak enough to plead that the effusions of friendship claim attention, +and respect. This is among the prejudices of our education, and I know +not who has hitherto overcome them all. I can only say, dear Louisa, it +is not her who is most affectionately your, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. Clifton is quite successful with my relations: he has won the +heart of my aunt. Every moment that he was absent was lavished in his +praise. 'He was a handsome man, prodigiously handsome, exceedingly well +bred, a man of great understanding, and what was more a man of family. +His pretensions were well founded; it was a very proper connection, and +was very much approved by her.' Nor did the good old lady omit various +sarcastic hints glancing at Frank, and which were not softened by the +opposition he made to her opinions. But he is too great a lover of +truth to betray it for the sake of self; and she too much an admirer of +her own prejudices not to be offended at contradiction. Once more, +Louisa, we are the creatures that education has made us; and +consequently I hope we shall hereafter be wiser and better. + + + + +LETTER LXIV + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +An odd circumstance, my dear Anna, has happened here, of which I think +it necessary to inform you immediately. + +Honest Aby has again been with us. He came and enquired for my mamma. +Disappointment, chagrin, and ill-humour were broadly legible on his +countenance. He talked in his odd dialect; which I cannot remember +accurately enough to repeat; said he had just received a letter from +Sir Arthur, from which he understood something that to him appeared to +be matter of great surprise; which was that Sir Arthur intended to +bestow your hand on my brother; and, in a half submissive half +authoritative way, wanted to know whether it were true; and whether my +mamma knew any thing of the business. + +She acknowledged that such were the intentions of the two families: and +he answered that, for his part, he thought they might as well think no +more of the matter; muttering the words _wherewithal_, and _coal_. + +Mrs. Clifton desired him to be explicit; but he continued in half +sentences, repeating that the ready was not so easy to be had, and +rhino was a scarce commodity. Neither could he tell what might happen. +There were foreclosures, and docking of entails, and many things to be +settled; and cash must come from where it could be got; but not from +him, he believed. + +My mamma, mild as she is, was obliged to check his growling inclination +to be insolent; and then he had his whole bead-roll of fine words, with +which he has so often tickled the ear of Sir Arthur, at his tongue's +end; and ran them off with his usual gracious, and very humble obedient +volubility. + +Had I not received your last,[1] his discourse would have been more +enigmatical to me: but, as it was, I understood him tolerably well. The +bitterness of gall is at his heart. The greatness of his visible +disappointment shows how high his hopes had been raised; and I suspect +he is determined they shall not be very easily pulled down. For, after +having acted all his abject humility, he could not forbear again to +murmur over his threats, as he was leaving the room; and there was an +air of self-sufficient confidence so apparent in his face that, I am +persuaded, the obstacles he has the power to raise are much greater +than you, my dear friend, have ever supposed. + +[Footnote 1: Letter LVIII: whence we may conclude that the letter +immediately preceding this was not come to hand.] + +I cannot describe to you, my best Anna, how deeply my mind is agitated, +at times, concerning this marriage. I censure myself very severely, for +seeming to indulge improper fears, one minute; and perhaps, the next, +am more angry with myself for not disinterestedly pleading the cause of +Frank Henley. If there could be a miracle in nature, I should think his +being the son of _honest Aby_ one. What can I say? My doubts are too +mighty for me! I know not how, or what, to advise. The reasons you have +urged are indeed weighty: yet they have never made an impression so +deep upon my mind, as not to take flight, and leave their opponent +arguments in some sort the victors. + +Nor can I be more angry with myself, on any occasion, than I am at this +moment. I distress and trouble you with my fears, when I ought to keep +them to myself; unless I could determine whether they were or were not +well founded. They are even increased by the recollection that, in all +probability, Clifton could now much less bear disappointment than the +strong-minded and generous Frank. + +Then, my Anna! Should ill happen to her, from an undertaking the motive +of which is so worthy, so dignified, what should I say? Should +misfortune come, how could I excuse myself, for having neglected to +dissuade, and to urge such reasons as have appeared to me the +strongest? What could I say, but repeat the diffidence of my mind, the +want of full and satisfactory conviction, and the fear of mistake? + +The only buckler, with which I oppose these insurrections of reason, is +the omnipotence of truth, and Anna St. Ives! And, when I recollect +this, my terrors are hushed, and I think her sure of conquest. + +The very affirmative tokens which Aby displayed of his own consequence, +convince me however that there will be delay. How Clifton will submit +to it is to be seen. His letter to my mamma is all impatience, and +expectation. But I have talked with her, and she appears to be +determined that nothing can be done, till Sir Arthur is ready to pay +the sum he proposed. + +My Anna will not be very ready to attribute this to avarice; for no one +can think more highly of her than Mrs. Clifton does. But my father, at +his death, left the family in absolute distress, from which she has +retrieved it, by her economy and good sense: retrieved it, that is, in +part; for there are still many heavy debts to pay, and mortgages to be +cleared. Her plans have been severe; and of long continuance; deeply +thought on, and perseveringly executed. To convince her that any part +of them ought to be relinquished scarcely appears possible. Nor am I +sure that, obliged as we are to conform to the present system of +things, they are not all just. Beside which she is not in a state of +health to support the fatigue of argument, or the pain of +contradiction. + +She likewise considers Sir Arthur as a weak old gentleman; who, if this +opportunity were abandoned, would perhaps never have the spirit or the +power, hereafter, to do his daughter justice: and she thinks that, for +your sake, she ought not in the least to relax. Should you, my dear +Anna, reason differently, I am still certain that you will reason +charitably. + +With respect to my brother, it may perhaps be fortunate, should the +suspense afford you time for further trials; and we may have cause to +rejoice at the accident, which had checked the precipitate impatience +of passion. + +Though I expect a letter from you by tomorrow's post, I think this of +too much consequence to suffer any delay: I shall therefore seal it, +and send it off immediately. + +Heaven bless and eternally preserve my dear Anna! + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXV + +_Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Most onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master, + +Your onnur has a thrown me quite into a quandry! I couldn't have thoft +it! For why? My thofts were all in the mercifool praise and +glorification of your onnur; and I had a done nothink but say how good +and gracious your onnur had a bin, to me and mine. But I do find, a +savin and exceptin your ever onnurable onnur, 'tis all a gull queerum! +Whereof the face of affairs is quite transmogrified! And so, ast for +raisin the wind of twenty thousand pounds, I find the think is neither +komparissuble nur a parallel to common sense. For why? It is not to be +had. A man's money is his own, your onnur; and when a has got it, +there's as good law for he as for a dooke. Always a savin and exceptin +your most exceptionable onnur, as in duty boundin. For as I wus a +sayin, your onnur, when a man has a got the super nakullums, who shall +take it from him? Because why, it is his own. + +If so be as the whats and the whys and the wherefores had a bin a forth +cummin, why then the shiners might a seen the light of day, mayhap. But +a man's son, why a's his son; a's his own; a's his goods and chattels, +and law and rite; bein of the race of his own begettin, feedin, and +breedin. Whereby I cannot but say, love me love my dog. Always a savin +and exceptin your onnurable onnur, as aforesaid. + +And ast for the rhino, why some do save, and some do spend, and some do +hold, and some do let go, and some do have, and some do want. Whereupon +if so be as he as a has the most a may be as good as another. Why not? +Always a savin and exceptin your ever onnurable onnur, as aforesaid. +But when so be as a man has the wherewithalls, why a let him begin to +hold up his head, I say. Why not? For why? It is the omnum gathurum +that makes the man. And if I do a doff my hat to my betters, there a be +and a bin the whats and the whys and the wherefores for it. But I can a +doff my hat, or I can a keep it on my head; and mayhap a can begin to +look my betters in the face, as well as another. Why not? Always a +savin and exceptin your ever exceptionable onnur, as in duty boundin. + +And ast for famalies and names, I axes nothink about they. A tell me +who has the most kole! I axes that! Mayhap Henley may be as good a name +as Clifton. And ast for famalies, why it is notorious that Adam and Eve +wus the begettin of us all; always a savin and exceptin your onnurable +onnur. Whereof a there's an end of that. + +Whereby your onnurable onnur wus a menshinnin the mortgages; and of a +seem of every think a treeved and settled, afore your onnur do die. But +as thinks do be likely to turn out, why every man for himself, and God +for us all. There be foreclosures mayhap, that a be to be thoft of. For +why? There a be wheels within wheels. + +If so be indeed as if thinks had a turned up trumps, why then ay, it +would a bin summut; all smooth and go softly, and there might a +behappened to be sunshine and fair weather at Wenbourne-Hill. For why? +Every think would then a bin clear and above board. Thinks would a then +a bin safe and sure to all sides; and your onnurable onnur would mayhap +a seen that your onnur would a lost nothink by the bargain. For why? +Missee my younk lady might a paradventered to have had all, in the +upshot; and an ever gracious and glorious and mercifool my younk lady +missee she would a then a bin. Whereby as matters be likely to turn +out, why thinks must a take their course. Thof a mayhap folks may go +further and fare worse. Whereof if so be as lives have a bin saved, by +land and by water, and a man's son is thoft to be somebody, why mayhap +a may not a take it so kindly to be chouse flickurd. + +For my part, I thoft as thof all thinks had a bin as good as settled; +and that in all partikillers missee my younk lady, of ever mercifool +affability, would a bin left to please herself. Why not? When precious +lives have a bin saved, and when there a bin shootins, and leapins, and +swimmins, and sousins, I say as aforesaid, why that's a summut; and a +man's own son mayhap won't a like to be flamdudgind. + +And so as to mortgages to be paid off, your onnurable onnur, why mayhap +that's a sooner said nur done. For I say as aforesaid, that it seems as +if whereby, if it had not a bin for some folks, some folks would a now +a bin in their salt water graves: always a savin and exceptin your ever +exceptionable onnur, as in duty boundin. Whereby take me ritely, your +onnurable onnur, I means nothink amiss. If thinks be a skew whift, why +it be no fault of mine. It is always a savin and exceptin of your +onnurable onnur: being as I be ready to glorify to the whole world of +all your futur lovin kindness of blessins of praise, a done and a +testified to me and mine. + +Whereof as to frippery jerry my gingle red coats and cockades, why they +be nothink of my seekin. For why? They be the betokens of the warnins +of the signs of the bloody cross of antichrist, and the whore of +Babilon, and of the dispensation of the kole, and the squitter +squanderin of the wherewithalls, and the supernakullums. Whereby an +honest man's son may become to be bamboozild, and addle brained, and +foistee fubbd, belike, as finely as his neighbours. So that if so be as +I have a bin a ponderaitin that there a be nothink to be got by it. +Always a savin and exceptin of the blessins of praise, and mercifool +glory, of your ever exceptionable onnurable onnur's lovin kindness, and +goodness; and every think of that there umbel and very submissive +obedient kind, as in duty boundin. + +Witch is all at present, beginnin and endin to the everlastin power of +almighty joys eternal; umbelly beggin leave to superscribe meself. + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXVI + +_Abimelech Henley to Frank Henley_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Why what be all a this here? What is it that a be about, dolt? Here's a +rumpus! Here's a fine to do! You be a pretty squire Nicodemus +Nincompoop! You a son of my own begettin, feedin, and breedin! You +seeze the fulhams! Why they would a draw your i teeth for ee! Marry +come fairly! You the jennyalogy of my own body and loins? No, by lady! +And so squire my lord Timothy Doodle has a bin flib gibberd, and +queerumd, after all? Thof if so be as notwithstandin a that Missee, my +younk lady, had as good as a bin playin at catch me come kiss me, and +all in the dark with'n; and thof I had a sifflicated the Sir Dandle +Dunderpate, a here a do stand, a suckin his thumbs! Thof so be as how I +told him to make up to Missee, and the twenty thousand pounds! What, a +didn't I put words into your mouth, as good as a ready butterd, as I +may say? What, a didn't I give ee all your pees and cues? Because as +why, I did a know a wus a quaumee kintlin. And so a has played with the +mouse and has a lost it at last! A fine kettle of fish a's made on't! +Whereof forsooth, so as that now as that all o'the fat's in the fire, +why I must a be set to catch the colt if I can. Why ay, to be sure! +Whereby if so be as the Gaby goose may now go barefoot! And a whose +fault is that? No! A wouldn't a be akin to a good estate; not he! + +But harkee me chit! Mind what I be about to say to ee, Simon the +simple, and mayhap thinks may become to be komparissuble and parallel +to the yellow hammers and the chink, for all of all this here rig +royster. For why? I can put a spoke in the wheel of the marriage act +and deed. Madam Clifton wonnot a budge a finger, to the signin and +sealin of her gratification of applause, whereby as if so be as that +the kole a be not a forth cummin, down on the nail head. And where now +might Timothy Tipkin sifflicate that it may behappen to be for to come +from? Pummel thy pumkin, and a tell me that, Peter Grievous. Where, but +out of my pouche, Gaby? That is, I first havin and holdin the +wherewithalls, and the whys, and the wherefores. Do you take me now? So +that forsooth, some folks may behappen to cry peccavi. + +Whereby mind what I do tell ee. For why? I've as good as a told Sir +Arthur the wind is a not to be raised for any of a sitch of a flammbite +of a tale of a tub. Whereby I a told'n a bit of my mind. And if so be +as if a will wince, a mayhap it may come to pass that I can kick. A +shall find I was not a bred and a born and a begotten yesterday. An a +champ upon it, let'n. An a will run rusty, mayhap a may belike to get +his head in a hedge. So mind what I do say to ee; and tell 'em that +they may a behappen to find that your father is somebody, and that you +are his son. A tell 'em that. + +So do you strike up to Missee boldly. Mind what ee be at; and let 'em +like it or leave it. For if so be as when a man has a got the +Marygolds, why then let'n begin to speak for himself. Why not? + +Whereby I have now once again given the costard monger his pees and his +cues. So that if so be as if a do find that sweet sauce be good for +goose, why let'n a give his tongue an oilin. But if so be as a do find +a be Sir Arthur Crabvarjus o'the high ropes, why then says you, look ee +me says you, honest Aby is my father; and when a man has a got the +wherewithalls, why a begins to be somebody, and mayhap a's as good as +another. A tell 'em that. + +And so no more at present; a savin and exceptin of the all bountifool +glory of the everlastin praise of joys eternal, livin and hopin for +time to repent us of all our manifold sins, and of a dyin in peace and +charity with all men. Whereby we shall be sure to partake of the +resurrection of the just sheep, and of the virgin oil in our lamps, and +of the martyrs and of the profits and of the saints everlastin rest. + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXVII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Oliver, it is not half an hour since I ended writing one of the most +undutiful and bitter Philippics, that ever was addressed by a son to +his father. I say undutiful, because this wise world has decreed that +to abhor, reprove, and avoid vice in a father, instead of being the +performance of a duty, is offensive to all moral feeling. + +I have just received a letter from him, chiding and blaming me, with +his usual acrimony, for a supposed want of cunning; and for not aiding +him in what I perceive now to be the design he has most at heart; which +is my marriage with the divine Anna. He has almost disgusted me with +myself, for having, though ineffectually, endeavoured to aid him so +well. Nay I have been tempted to shew his letter to Sir Arthur. But, on +recollection, I have thrown the Philippic I mentioned into the fire; +and have determined on silence: for I perceive harm that may result +from a contrary conduct, but no good. To swerve, to the right or the +left, from the direct path of principle and truth, because of the +selfish, narrow, and unwise views of others, is to be weak and +culpable. + +What, indeed, has relationship to do with truth? No human ties can bind +us to error: and, while we rigorously act according to the rules of +truth, as far as we know them, the comments, mistakes, disapprobation, +and even resentment, of relation, friend, or father, ought to be +disregarded. + +I must own, however, I have still the folly to feel additional grief +that errors of so mean, so selfish, so dishonest a nature should have +taken such firm possession of the mind of my father: and I am afraid I +could support them better in the person of another. + +Having determined not to write to him, I have written to thee, to give +vent and relief to these feelings. Of course thou wilt tell me if thou +seest any reason, which I have not discovered, why I ought to +communicate the contents of his letter to Sir Arthur; whom he vaunts of +having in his power, and whom he is determined not to supply with +money, for the projected marriage with Clifton. My conviction is that +to shew this letter would but increase their mutual anger, and render +compliance on my father's part, whose temper I know, still less +probable than it is; if less it can be. + +Adieu. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +I write, at present, to my dear Louisa, that by writing I may divert +the perturbation of my mind. But I must begin calmly; for I have so +much to say, that I scarcely know what to say first. Our mutual +conjectures, concerning honest Aby, are in part verified. I conclude +thus, not from having seen any more of his letters, but from knowing +more have been received; which, instead of having been shewn me, have, +if I do not mistake, thrown Sir Arthur into some of the most serious +reflections he ever experienced. I never knew him so grave, +thoughtful, and pensive, as he has been for some days-- + +My brother too!--But more of him by and by. + +Observing the efforts of reflection, and desirous of aiding, +alleviating, or increasing them, as should be most prudent, I took an +opportunity, after breakfast, when Sir Arthur and I were alone, of +speaking to him; and we had the following dialogue. + +I think, sir, you seem more thoughtful lately than usual. I am afraid +there is something disturbs you. Can I--? + +No, no--Nothing--Not much. Worldly matters, which you do not +understand. + +I am far from wishing, sir, to intrude into your private concerns; +except they were such as might relate to me, and-- + +Mere money matters, child; of which you have no knowledge--[We paused; +Sir Arthur seeming as if his mind laboured with a subject which he knew +not how to begin]--Where is Mr. Henley? + +Retired to his apartment, sir. This is his time of day for study. + +He is a very learned young man. + +Not so learned I believe, sir, as wise. + +Are not they the same thing? + +I think not, sir. + +Well then, a very wise young man--You think him so; do you not, Anna? + +I do, sir. + +You have a very high opinion of him? + +I have, sir. + +Perhaps a higher than of any other young gentleman, with whom you are +acquainted. + +I am indeed afraid, sir, I have never seen his equal. + +Humph!--You--You are not sparing of your praise. + +You asked me a question, sir, and would not have me guilty of +equivocation, or falsehood. + +No, child: I am pleased with your sincerity; and I hope and expect you +will be equally sincere in every thing you say. + +Of that, sir, you may be assured. + +What are your reasons for thinking so exceedingly well of Mr. Henley? + +My reasons, sir! + +Yes; your reasons. + +I own I am a little surprised at this question from you, sir; who have +been a witness to so many of his virtues, and their effects. + +[I then briefly recapitulated the progress of Frank from a child in +virtue, insisting on the numerous proofs of which we so lately had been +witnesses. I recounted the histories of the highwayman, and of Peggy +and her husband; the adventure of the lake; and the protection we found +from his skill, strength, and courage at Deal; not forgetting the +attendant incidents of each, nor neglecting to give such brief but +strong touches as feeling dictated.] + +I must own, he is a very extraordinary young man! + +Yet we can know but a part of the good effected by a mind so active, +and so virtuous. Though I perhaps know more than you, sir. + +Ay!--What? Let me hear. + +You think me partial already, sir. + +No, no. Let me hear. + +The very night we arrived at Paris, he prevented Mr. Clifton and the +Count de Beaunoir from fighting a duel. + +Indeed! + +Yet never mentioned it; nor perhaps ever would, had not we afterward +met with the Count at the Chateau de Villebrun. + +That was very odd! + +Nay more, sir, but a day or two before that he saved the life of Mr. +Clifton, he had submitted to the insult of a blow from him, rather than +fight a duel. + +A blow--? + +He does not want courage, sir, you are convinced. + +No, no--It is what he calls one of his principles not to fight +duels--He is a very extraordinary young man!--And not I think much like +his father. + +As opposite, sir, as day and night, grace and deformity, virtue and +vice. + +You think but indifferently of Abimelech. + +I think very ill of him, sir. I think him selfish, cunning, covetous, +and dishonest. + +Dishonest? + +In the eye of equity, though not perhaps of the law. + +Why did not you tell me your opinion sooner? + +I did, sir. + +I do not remember it. + +No, sir: it made no impression, because you did not think it true. May +be so--And you do not find any of these bad qualities in the son? + +Bad!--If all the highest gifts of intellect; if memory, perspicuity, +perception, and genius; added to all the virtues, wisdom, benevolence, +philanthropy, and self-denial; if to be the active friend of man and +the declared enemy of error, and of that alone; if these can entitle +him to esteem, admiration, reverence and praise, why then esteem, +admiration, reverence and praise are justly his due. + +You are warm in your encomiums. + +Indeed, sir, I think I am cold. + +How so? + +Because my encomiums are so very much beneath his deserts. + +Anna--[Sir Arthur assumed a very serious tone, and look.] + +Proceed, sir--Do not be afraid of questioning me. You shall find, my +dear father, a child that will answer truly, affectionately, and I hope +dutifully. + +[I kissed his hand, pressed it, and wet it with an unwilling tear. The +impassioned heart, Louisa, will sometimes rebel against the cold apathy +of reason; but such revolt is but of short duration.] + +Are you aware, Anna, of the state of your own affections? + +I think so, sir. + +You think? + +Well then, I am certain. + +You say Mr. Henley has no equal? + +In my opinion, none, sir. + +Look you there! + +But do you think, sir, I will not emulate the virtues I admire: or +that, because I have a just sense of his worth, I will trespass against +my duties to the world, my sex, my family and my father? + +Anna!--Child!--[The tears stood in Sir Arthur's eyes. He stretched out +both hands, and I flew to his arms.--After a short interval of silence, +Sir Arthur proceeded.] Tell me, Anna: What are your thoughts of Mr. +Clifton? + +I think him, sir, a very extraordinarily gifted gentleman. + +But not a Mr. Henley? + +Not at present, sir. Time I hope will make him one. + +No, child, never. + +Why so, sir? + +I cannot tell why, but I am sure it never will. They are two very +different men. + +Mr. Clifton, sir, has uncommon powers of mind. + +May be so; I suppose so; I only say they are very different men. Their +tempers are different, their opinions, their manners, every thing. + +I do not imagine, sir, they will ever exactly resemble each other; but +I think myself sure they will continually approach. + +Indeed! + +Yes, sir. + +May be so; but I own I doubt it. Mr. Clifton is a gentleman, both by +birth and education. + +That I own, sir, may be a great disadvantage; but-- + +Disadvantage, child! + +Our conversation was here interrupted, Louisa, by a letter brought me +from my brother. Read it, and judge of what I felt. + +Dear Sister, + +I am a ruined man, unless I could command a sum of money which it is +impossible for me to raise. I last night lost three thousand pounds, +upon honour, which I am totally unable to pay. And, what is worse, I +did not lose it to a gentleman, but to a sharper; who, the very last +throw he made, let a third die fall upon the table. But this is of no +avail; he is an unprincipled, daring fellow; denies any foul play with +imprecations and threats, and insists on being paid. I know you cannot +help me to such a sum; and I suppose my father will not. For my part, I +can neither pay it nor think of living, under the disgrace and infamy +which must follow. + +EDWARD ST. IVES + + +Sir Arthur saw my agitation; and, had I been desirous, it would have +been difficult to have concealed the letter, or its contents. I shewed +it him, and his perplexity and pain I believe exceeded mine. It was +impossible, he said, for him immediately to pay the money: it would +greatly distress him at any time. It likewise shewed the deplorable +state of my brother's affairs. The Edgemoor estate, every thing gone! + +Sir Arthur knew not how to act. I was in a tremor, and could not +persuade myself there was any way so safe as that of consulting Frank +Henley. This I proposed; Sir Arthur instantly acquiesced, and he was +sent for down. After reading the letter, the only expedient, he said, +which he could think of, was to visit my brother; either accompanied by +or under the sanction of Sir Arthur. My father absolutely refused to go +himself; but he gave Frank full powers to act for him, and as he should +think most prudent. Before he went, he endeavoured to calm our fears; +saying he thought it impossible, if such a rascal as this gambler were +properly dealt with, but that he must be glad to renounce his claim. + +Frank is now absent on this desperate business; sent, by my +officiousness, to encounter a practised ruffian! + +What could I do? A brother threatening his own life! Yet what is the +life of such a brother, to that of Frank Henley? + +I hope he is not in danger! I think I was obliged to do as I have done; +though indeed I am very ill satisfied with myself. + +The chief purpose of my writing this long dialogue, which I had with +Sir Arthur, was to ward off fears: for surely it is but a folly to +anticipate misfortune. I should else not have written till tomorrow. +And must I alarm my friend, by sending this before I know the result of +so dangerous an affair? I think I ought not. + +Clifton has just been with me. It could not long escape his quick +penetration that my thoughts were deeply occupied. He was earnest with +me to accompany him, in the evening, to see Garrick in Richard III, but +could not prevail. He taxed me with absence of mind, and was kindly +earnest to know why I was so serious. I told him at last it was a +family concern; and this did but increase his eagerness to know of what +nature. I was obliged to own he was too impetuous to be trusted at such +a critical minute. Frank Henley I hoped would effect every thing that +could be done. + +He repeated, with great chagrin, 'Frank Henley!--He was sorry not to be +thought as worthy of a trust of danger, and as zealous for the honour +of the family, as even the favourite Frank Henley.' + +I replied my mind was not enough at ease, to give a proper answer to +such a remark; which however was far from a just one. + +He felt the rebuke, and apologized; with praises of Frank Henley's +prudence, and accusations of his own intemperate haste. 'But wise +people knew how to be cool. Prudence and wisdom were cold blooded +qualities. Good or harm, of any moment, if done by him, must be done in +a kind of passion. It was his temper, his nature, which he tried in +vain to correct. Neither was he quite certain that such a temper was +not the best: at least it was the most open and honest.-- + +I told him he was mistaken in most of these fancies: but he seemed not +to hear me, and went on-- + +'He could not but own, he was piqued, and almost grieved, to find he +must despair of meriting the preference; and that he was destined to +find a rival, where rivalship ought perhaps least to be expected.' + +My temper of mind did not permit me to argue with him; I could much +rather have indulged the woman, and burst into tears; but I subdued my +feelings, and could think of no better mode of reproving him than to +retire. I accordingly withdrew, without answering, and left him making +ineffectual struggles with his pride, his consciousness of error, and +his desire of being heard, and reconciled to himself, and me. + +He told me, yesterday, he was surprised at not receiving an answer from +Mrs. Clifton, and at the silence of Sir Arthur. I made no reply, +because I had not considered how I could address myself to him with the +best effect. But I mean, when he mentions it again, to inform him of +the probability of delay. I, like you, my friend, think delay rather a +fortunate incident than otherwise. + +But why, Louisa, should you suppose it necessary to justify the conduct +of Mrs. Clifton to me? I am well acquainted with her virtues, and the +purity of her intentions. Whether I should act with exactly the same +caution, under the same circumstances, is more than I can say: but +neither can I say that my prudence, and foresight, would equal hers.--I +think I hear Frank Henley. I am all impatience and alarm. Adieu. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXIX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Frank has this moment left me. He is still in pursuit of this business, +which is by no means brought to a conclusion. He has been with my +brother, and has met the gambler; with whom two very characteristic +dialogues have passed, which Frank has repeated with considerable +humour. My brother was only present at and bore his part in the second. +The man is a perfect master of his vile trade; a practised duellist; as +expert, Frank says, in killing of men as in cogging of dice. A +Hibernian bravo; determined to pursue the most desperate means to +effect his purpose. + +Energy in vice or virtue, Frank remarks, is the characteristic of the +Irish. It is a noble quality, of which no nation perhaps has more, if +any so much; but it is frequently abused by them, and made productive +of the most hateful effects. + +Frank was with my brother in his dressing-room, when the man came and +was shewn into an anti-chamber by the servant. Edward was sufficiently +unwilling to see him, and readily agreed to the proposal Frank made, of +first conversing with him, as my brother's friend. + +Frank accordingly went to him, and says he was struck at the sight of +the man, being much deceived if he be not an old acquaintance. I was +and still am surprised at what Frank told me; but he begged I would +suspend my curiosity, till he himself should be better satisfied; and +proceeded with his dialogue. + +Your name I believe, sir, is Mr. Mac Fane. + +At your sarvice, sir. + +I am the friend of Captain St. Ives. + +Then to be sure, sir, you are a gintleman, and a man of honour. I am a +gintleman and a man of honour mysilf. + +Do you say that from your conscience, sir? + +From my conscience? Ay, sir! Why not? When all my debts due are duly +and truly paid, why I shall have ten thousand pounds in my pocket. + +There are people, sir, heretical enough to suppose that even ten +thousand pounds are no absolute proof of honour. + +No, indeed!--Why then, for those very scrupulous people, I have an +excellent pair of proof pistols, which I believe are absolute enough. +Because I would take the odds that they would hit a bird's eye flying. + +Those arguments I own are difficult to withstand. + +Stand!--Faith, and if any man shall think proper to stand, I will fetch +him down.--[Remember, Louisa, I am imitating this man's language, as +delivered by Frank; though I believe my memory is tolerably correct.] +But I should be proud to speak a word with your friend; becase that +will be more to the point. + +He requested me to inform you, sir, he should be glad if you would +delay your visit an hour or two; and I think it will be the safest; for +you I perceive, sir, are rather warm; and his temper, as you may +imagine, cannot be so cool, just at present, as usual. + +His temper!--Faith, sir, and the devil a care care I about his temper! +And as for warm and cool, I can be either, or neither, or both. I have +won the money, and the Captain must pay it; or else d'ye see, sir--! + +You'll hit the bird's eye flying? + +Ay; flying, or lying, or any way!--However, I will take a turn and come +back by and by. I have two or three calls to make on some peers of my +acquaintance. I am a man of nice honour, sir. + +And you imagine, nice though it is, that your honour is suspected. + +By my soul, sir, I imagine no such thing. Because as why, I think it +would not be very safe. I tell you very seriously, sir, that I have a +sure sacrit to cure any impartinent suspicions of my honour; as I beg +you would inform your friend, Captain St. Ives; who, being a man of +honour himsilf, knows what belongs to the business. These, sir, are +tender points, with every gintleman. And so, sir, I wish you a good +morning for the present. + +Frank says he was desirous of conversing with the man, that he might +discover his character, previous to his concerting any plan of action. + +After he was gone, he endeavoured to lead my brother into a discussion +on the state of his affairs. But Edward avoided all detail; satisfying +himself with affirming he was a ruined man, and unable to pay the sum. +He had no objection to meet the fellow in the field; though certainly +the chances were a hundred to one in his disfavour. He might as well +die that way as any other. With respect to victory, of that there were +but little hopes, with so expert a ruffian, who had practised pistol +shooting till he was sure of his mark, which my brother had wholly +neglected. + +Frank then enquired at what house the money had been lost; and found it +had been at one of the common receptacles for gamblers of the second +order. No person was present but the groom porter, whom Frank +immediately determined to see, and went thither for that purpose. But, +on enquiry at the house, he found the man had absconded. + +He returned, and had some difficulty to convince my brother that his +honour would not suffer by delay; for it was plain that Mr. Mac Fane +was resolved on immediately pushing the matter to an extreme. However, +on communicating his own conjectures concerning this man of nice +honour, Edward consented to permit Frank to act in his behalf. Frank +observes that our men of fashion seem agreed to overlook a portion of +insolence from these gamblers, under the affectation of despising them, +which the tamest of the fine gentlemen among them would scarcely brook +from each other. + +In about two hours, Mr. Mac Fane returned; and, being introduced to my +brother and Frank, another conversation very similar to the former +ensued. The man began. + +Your servant, gintlemen. I told you last night, Captain, that I would +give you a call this morning: and as it is an affair in which your +honour is concerned, why I was determined to be very punctual. Becase +why, you know, I am extremely nice and punctual mysilf, upon points of +honour. + +I am sorry to be obliged to tell you, sir, that Captain St. Ives +neither knows nor owns any such thing; and that I have good reason to +believe the very reverse. + +Sir!--You--! [Frank says the man put on the true look of a desperado, +resolved on mischief if opposed: but that, after pausing a moment, he +began, with a kind of humorous anger, to rub the side of his face, as +if it were benumbed] Faith, on recollection, I believe I got a bit of a +cold last night, which makes me rather dull of hearing. + +Sir, I repeat-- + +Repate!--Boo!--There is no occasion to repate, at all at all. I +remember very well that my friend, Captain St. Ives, owes me three +thousand guineas; and, it being a dibt of honour, why, to be sure he +will pay it, without any repating about the matter. + +Sir, said my brother, give me leave to tell you-- + +That you will pay me. You need not tell me that. + +Sir--! + +There never yet was man that refused to pay me, but oh! The almighty +thunder! I gave him a resale in full for the dibt. I made him repint +after his death the day that ever he was born. + +There's the door, sir, said Frank. + +Faith and I know there's the door, sir; but where's the money, +Captain?--That is, I don't mane the ready cash: that is not to be +expected, from a gentleman--A bond in these cases you know, Captain, is +customary. + +Sir, there's the door. + +I find that your friend, here, is disposed to be a little upon the +Captain Copperthorne this morning; and so I shall leave you for the +present to consider the matter. I have no doubt but I shall hear from +you, Captain, in the course of the four and twenty hours. It is now +full three weeks since I heard the whiz of a bullet; and I would advise +you, as a friend, not to waste any of your powder and ball upon the +prisent occasion. It would only be a buz and blow by business, Captain: +for, by the holy limb of Luke, I never yet saw lead that durst look me +in the face. + +We should be glad to be alone, sir. + +Faith, sir, you may be as bluff as you please; but, when the Captain is +a little cool, I shall expict to receive a bit of a message from him; +or may I never look on the bald pate of the blessed Peter but he shall +receive a bit of a message from me. And so once more, gintlemen, good +morning. + +Frank did not lose a moment after he was gone, but hastened home; first +to inform us of his proceedings, thus far; and next to make the +researches on which he is now absent. Here, therefore, my dear Louisa, +I must pause; and once again subscribe myself, most affectionately, + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. I have reason to believe that Clifton is more seriously offended +than I ever knew him before. When I refused going to the play with him, +he persisted in saying I might change my mind before night, and that he +would come again in that hope. His manner of parting with me, after +being told Frank was entrusted with a business which we had not dared +confide to him, was, as I have described, unusual, and accompanied with +more coldness and reserve than either of us had ever before assumed. It +is now eight o'clock, and I have not seen him since. If he have +resolution enough to keep away the whole evening, which I suspect he +will have, the proof of the truth of my conjectures will be +indubitable. + +I know not, when he comes to hear the business, whether he will be +convinced that he was less proper to transact it than Frank; otherwise +I should not be sorry, could he but certainly feel himself wrong: for +it is by a repetition of such lessons that the good we intend must be +effected. + +Be it as it will, let us neither recede nor slacken our endeavours. I +suspect that every worthy task must be a task of difficulty, and often +of danger. + + + + +LETTER LXX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Frank is returned; and, as usual, crowned with success. + +I had been puzzling myself to no purpose, concerning Mr. Mac Fane being +one of our old acquaintance. It appears he was the accomplice of the +highwayman, Webb, the brother of Peggy, who was shot by Frank at +Turnham Green. He forebore to tell me, in part because he had not time +to connect and relate the grounds of his suspicion; though his chief +reason was lest a whisper, heard by Laura or any other, should have +betrayed and overturned his whole scheme. + +He went immediately to question Mrs. Clarke, concerning her nephew. She +knew not what was become of him; for, after having determined to go +abroad, he changed his mind; and, being reproved and discountenanced by +her, he had forborne his visits. She had even refused to hear his name +mentioned. But she believed her niece, Peggy, had some knowledge of +him; though she was not certain. + +Frank thought proper to confide in Mrs. Clarke, and they immediately +went in quest of the niece. From her they learned that he had been +promoted to the office of groom-porter at a gambling house: and in fact +he proved to be the very man who had been present at the transaction +between Edward and Mr. Mac Fane. + +Peggy was next questioned concerning his present hiding-place. She was +confused; she stammered, and trembled. Was not her brother in danger? +Could she be sure no harm would come to him?--At last however the mild +and humane reasoning of Frank, and the authority of Mrs. Clarke +subdued, her terrors--He was in the house. + +It seems the moment he knew it was Captain St. Ives, my brother, whom +Mr. Mac Fane had been plundering, he refused to appear, or have any +further concern in the affair: and being violently threatened by the +gambler, who wanted to force him to come forward as his witness, he +concealed himself for fear; not knowing to what excess so desperate a +man might be carried by his passions. He and Peggy had just been +debating on the propriety of appearing to bear testimony in my +brother's behalf; but were too much alarmed to decide. + +Frank lost no time. He took the man with him in the carriage, and +hastened to my brother's apartments; where he left him, and immediately +drove away to Bow-street, to procure the assistance of the police. +Previous to this, Mr. Mac Fane, having received some intimation that +there was danger, had written to my brother. The following is a copy of +his letter; and no bad specimen of the man. + + +Sir, + +I find you think that there is a bit of a blunder in this business, +and that you doubt the doctors. I understand too that Webb, the +groom porter, is under obligations to your honourable family; for +which raison the lying spalpeen pretends that he smoaked a bale of +Fulhams--To be sure it is all a mistake--I am a man of honour; and +you, Captain, are a man of honour also; for which I give up the coal +to your ginerosity; in raison whereof hush is the word. And so in +that case, I remain your most obedient humble sarvant. But if not, +why the bull dogs must bark. + +PHELIM MAC FANE + + +Is it not a pity, Louisa, that so much courage and ability should be +perverted to such vile ends? The man, by means of the wealth he had so +rapidly collected in this manner, had secured more than one spy among +the Bow-street runners. This we learned from Peggy's brother; and it is +confirmed by the event; for he has forsaken all his former haunts, and +it is conjectured is either gone off for the continent, or, which is +more probable, is lying concealed till he can discover how far he is +in danger. He was constantly provided with disguises, has been to sea, +and is intimately acquainted with the manners of the vulgar; so that, +were any strict search made, he would not easily be caught. But he need +not fear; his supposed enemy takes no delight in blood; and this he +will probably soon learn, and soon again be upon the town. + +You wonder, no doubt, how Frank should recognise a man who, attempting +to rob us on a dark night, had stationed himself at the head of the +carriage. Had he seen no more of him, he would have been in little +danger of detection. But, on one of the visits which Frank made to +Webb, the brother of Peggy, he had met him on the stairs. Mr. Mac Fane +as he descended was opposite the window on the landing place, and his +face was full in the light; while Frank could scarcely be seen by him, +being then several steps below him. His countenance is a remarkable +one; it has a deep scar above the left eye; and Frank, suspecting him +to be the accomplice of the man he was going to visit, had fixed it in +his memory. + +Frank has since been talking very seriously with this brother of Peggy; +and appears to have convinced him that his present profession is as +much that of a thief as his former. However, in this short space of +time, without understanding the vile arts of a gambler, he has +collected between two and three hundred pounds. Such is the folly with +which money is squandered at these places. While Mr. Mac Fane is +absent, he thinks himself in no danger; and should he return, he has +been promised the protection of our family, which he thinks a +sufficient guarantee; being rather afraid of him as a desperado than as +an accuser. Webb has therefore agreed to take a shop, and exercise his +trade as a master. He is a man of quick intellects; and, +notwithstanding all that he has done, has many good propensities. As a +proof of these, his poor sister, the kind Peggy, has infinite affection +for him; and is sure now that he will do well. + +Sir Arthur and Edward have both been very sincere and hearty in their +thanks to Frank: to which he answers, and answers truly, it was a +stroke rather of good fortune than of foresight. But he has gained +himself a character; and they are partly of opinion, that every thing +must prosper which he undertakes. Aunt Wenbourne too overflows in his +praise. Edward is her favourite; and Frank stands now almost as high on +her list as he was but a little while ago the reverse; for Edward is +continually talking of him to her, and every word he says is orthodox. +But opinions like these are too light, too full of prejudice, too +mutable to be of much value. + +Clifton kept away all the evening; however, after hearing the whole +story, he was obliged to acknowledge that, let his other qualities be +what they would, he could not have been so successful as Frank in this +affair; because he could have known nothing of Mr. Mac Fane. But he did +not forget that this was an accident, unforeseen at the time when Frank +was trusted. + +My constant rule, of equanimity of temper, has restored him to his +wonted good-humour. But I perceive he regrets the possibility of any +man equalling him in the esteem of those whose friendship he +cultivates. Alas! Why does he not rather seek to surpass them, than to +envy their virtues? + +He says he will propose an eulogium on Frank, and give a prize himself +to the French Academy; for he finds he will never get sufficiently +praised in England. He never knew so eternal a theme for panegyric. In +fine, it is evident, in despite of his efforts to conceal it, that his +jealousy increases: and I suspect he feels this last decision against +him more sensibly than any preceding circumstance. + +Adieu. Most truly and dearly, your own + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +War! Fairfax, war!--It is declared!--Open war!--My wrathful spirits are +in a blaze, and I am determined. Hear and blame me if you can. But do I +not know you? Does not the temper of your letters tell me you will +applaud my just anger, and fixed revenge? + +Yes, Fairfax, longer to palliate, or wilfully be blind to the partial +edicts and haughty ordonnances of this proud beauty, were idiotism! +She has presumed too far; I am not quite so tame a creature as she +supposes. She shall find I am not the clay, but the potter. I will +mould, not be moulded. Poltron as I was, to think of sinking into the +docile, domesticated, timid animal called husband! But the lion's paws +are not yet pared; beware then, my princess! + +The lady would carry it with a high hand, Fairfax. But let her! +If I not note her freaks, if I forget her imperious caprice, if +my embittered mind slumber in its intents, say not I am the +proud-spirited Clifton you once knew; that prompt, bold, and +inflexible fellow, whom arrogance could rouse, and injury inflame, +but a suffering, patient ass; a meek pitiful thing, such as they +would make me! + +Wonder not that I now am angry, but that I have so long been torpid. A +little phrensy has restored the palsied soul to life, and again has put +its powers in motion. I'll play no more at questions and commands--Or, +if I do, it shall only be to make sure of my game. I have been +reproved, silenced, tongue-tied, brow-beaten; have made myself an ape, +been placed behind the door, and have shewed tricks for her diversion. +But I am not muzzled yet: they shall find me one of the _ferae +naturae._ + +A most excellent project, forsooth! When I am sufficiently familiarized +to contradiction, rebuke, fillips on the forehead, and raps on the +knuckles, she will then hear me my prayers, pack me off peaceably to +bed for tonight, and graciously bestow a pat and a promise upon me for +tomorrow! There is danger in the whim, lady; beauteous though you are, +and invincible as you may think yourself. Model me!--No!--I am of a +metal which not even your files can touch. You cannot knead, +dough-bake, and temper me to your leaven. + +Fairfax, she had fascinated me! I own it! There is such incantation, in +the small circle of her eye, as mortal man scarcely can resist! I +adored her; nay still adore! But she knows me not. I have a soul of +fire. She has driven me beyond the limits of patience. + +Her wisdom degenerates into rhodomontade. She will prescribe the hour +and minute when she shall begin to love. She does not pretend to love +me yet; and, if she did, her looks, her manner would betray the +falsehood of her heart. + +Yet let me not wrong her, vexed though I am. Double dealing is not her +error: she is sufficiently sincere. + +Why would I hide it from myself? Her partialities all lead another way: +ay and her passions too, if passions she have. But this most +incomprehensible, this tormenting, incoherent romance of determining +not to have any, I believe from my soul, in part produces the effect +she intends, and almost enables her to keep her determination! + +Still and eternally, this fellow! This Frank! Oh that I were an +Italian, and that my conscience would permit me to deal him the +stilletto!--Let him beware!--He is employed, preferred, praised! It is +eulogium everlasting! Had Fame as many trumpets as she has tongues and +lies, they would all be insufficient. And not only she but the whole +family, father, brother, aunts, the devil knows who, each grateful soul +is oozing out the froth of its obligations! + +Had they less cause, perhaps I should be less irritated: but he has +rescued the poor being of a brother, Edward St. Ives, who had neither +courage nor capacity to rescue himself, from the gripe of a gambler. +This Edward, who is one of the king's captains, God bless him, and who +has spent his fortune in learning the trade, not of a man of war, but +of a man of fashion, having lost what ready money he had, staked his +honour against a cogger of dice, and was presently tricked out of three +thousand guineas; which he was too poor in pocket to pay, and, if I +guess right, too poor in spirit afterward to face the ruffian whom he +had made his companion. + +So Mr. Henley, and it please, you, was chosen, by father and daughter. +Though she owns she proposed it first; for she does not scruple to own +all which she does not scruple to act. The holy mission was his, to +dole out salutary documents of reproof, and apothegms of Epictetus; and +to try whether he could not release the bird-limed owl. I was +overlooked! I am unfit for the office! I am but little wiser than the +booby brother! Whereas Solomon himself, and the seven sages to boot, +are but so many men of Gotham, when he is present. The quintessence of +all the knowledge, wit, wisdom, and genius that ever saw the sun, from +the infantine days of A B C and king Cadmus, to these miraculous times +of intuition and metaphysical legerdemain, is bottled up in, his brain; +from which it foams and whizzes in our ears, every time discretion can +be induced to draw the cork of silence.--Once again, let him beware! + +I then am selected for no other purpose but for her morality to make +experiments upon.--She is called wife, and wife she may be; nay wife +she is, or at least all other women, she being present, are intolerably +foolish. But, by heaven, this is no proof of her wisdom! I am the +scape-goat!--I!--Be it so!--Should she be caught in her own springe, +who can say I am to blame? + +She has seen my anger, for I could not hide it; but she has seen it +only in part. A hypocrite she wants, and a hypocrite she shall I have. +I will act the farce which she is composing; let her look to the +catastrophe. + +I begin to think that marriage and I shall never meet; for, if I +withstand her, woman cannot tempt me. And her I shall withstand. At +least I never will have her till I have humbled her; and then perhaps I +shall not be in the humour. And yet my heart tells me that I shall. For +in spite of all its anger, in spite of her injustice and glaring +indifference, the remembrance of which puts me in a fever, it would be +misery to know her, recollect her, and live without her. + +But, patience! Her pride shall first be lowered. I must command, not be +commanded: and, when my clemency is implored, I will then take time to +consider. + +My brain is in a ferment, and its various engines are already in +commotion. She herself, her hated favourite, her father, her brother, +her aunt, her uncle, her maid, every creature that surrounds her must +each and all contribute to my purposes and plots. Parts fit for the +actors must be assigned. The how and what I know not yet precisely, for +I have scarcely sketched the canvas; but I have conceived some bold and +masterly strokes, and I foresee the execution must be daring and +impassioned. I am in haste to begin, and my hot oscillatory spirits can +with difficulty be tamed to the still pause of prudence and +premeditation: they are eager for the fight, and think caution a tardy +general, if not a coward. + +I know not how it is, but when I am angry, very angry, I feel as if I +were in my element. My blood delights to boil, and my passions to +bubble. I hate still water. An agitated sea! An evening when the fiery +sun forebodes a stormy morning, and the black-based clouds rise, like +mountains with hoary tops, to tell me tempests are brewing! These give +emotion and delight supreme! Oh for a mistress such as I could imagine, +and such as Anna St. Ives moulded by me could make! One that could vary +her person, her pleasures, and her passions, purposely to give mine +variety! Whose daily and nightly study all should centre in me, and my +gratifications! Whose eyes should flash lightning to rouse the chilled +sensations, and shed appeasing dews to quench the fire of rage. These +are the objects in which I could delight; these the devotions I +require. Change for me. A true English day; in which winter and summer, +hail, rain, and sunshine meet and mingle. + +I had almost forgotten one chief cause of my resentment; though the +most fortunate one I could have wished for to promote my purpose. This +Sir Arthur dallies with me. I find, from various items which the +candour of her mind has suffered to escape, that the motive is poverty. +I am glad of it. I will urge and hurry her into a promise to be mine. +The generosity of her temper will aid me. I will plead the injury done +me by hesitation. I feel it, and therefore my pleadings will be +natural. It is her pride to repair the wrongs which others commit. This +pride and this heroism of soul, which I must acknowledge in her are +unaffected, shall be the main engines with which I will work. Without +these perhaps I might despair; but with them hold myself secure of +victory. + +Yes, lady of the high sciences, you must descend, and let my star mount +the horizon! The gathering clouds must eclipse your effulgence, while I +shine chief of the constellation! + +As for the rest of the family, more or less, they are all fools; +therefore are neither to be feared nor pitied. On her perhaps I may +have compassion, when I have taught her contrition, and when she knows +me for her superior. + +I have written a volume, yet have not half disburthened my labouring +mind. Oh that I could present the picture to you complete! That I could +paint her as she is; all beauty, all excellence, all kindness, all +frost! That I could shew the sweet enthusiast in the heyday insolence +of her power; pretending to guide, reform, humble, and subjugate me; +while love and vengeance swell my heart, hypocrisy smooths my face, and +plots innumerable busy my brain! It is a fruitful, rich, resplendent +scene; of which, Fairfax, you have no conception. Me you have known, +intimately, and are honest enough to own you have admired: but of her +all ideal tracings are contemptible! + +Nor should this knight of the magic lanthorn be forgotten; this Nestor +junior; this tormenting rival--Oh how I could curse! He who stands, as +ready as if Satan had sent him, to feed the spreading flames with oil! +He fills his place on the canvas. And who knows but I may teach him, +yet, to do his office as he ought? How would it delight me! There is an +intemperance of superiority which no human patience can support, nor +any acts of kindness compensate. A triumph over her will indeed be a +triumph over him, and therefore doubly delicious! + +I grant he forbears to prate of the life he gave me. But am I not +reminded of the oppressive gift every time he dares to contradict me? +Would I endure his interference as I do; would I be shouldered and +butted at, by him; would I permit his opinion to be asked, or his +dogmas to silence me, were I not burthened with this unasked benefit? + +Infatuated lunatic, as I was! But I am in the school of prudence, at +present; and suppose I shall learn a little some time; though I do not +know when; since, I am told, it is not easy to learn a trade one hates. + +Mean while I pay my court assiduously to the two peers, Evelyn and Fitz +Allen, who at present are both in town. Nothing must be neglected, +nothing left unprepared. Vigilance, foresight, and cunning must do +their office, and will soon be in full employment: of what kind I +cannot yet determine; or whether it must be open war or covert, or +both; but my augury predicts the scene will soon be all life, all +agitation, all enjoyment. Commotion is my element, battle my delight, +and conquest my heaven! + +This is my hour of appointment: she is expecting me, yet my crowding +thoughts will with difficulty allow me to lay down the pen: they rise +in armies, and I could write world without end, and never come to an +amen. But I must begone. Adieu. + +I imagine that by this time you are at Paris; or will be before the +arrival of this letter; which, according to your directions, I shall +superscribe _Poste restante._ + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Need I tell my affectionate friend how great the pleasure is which I +receive from her letters, and from that free communication of thought +which so effectually tends to awaken the best emotions of mind, and +make us emulate each other's virtues? Like her I sit down, now while +memory is awake, to relate such material incidents as have happened +since last I wrote. + +The anger of Clifton is softened into approbation. The most generous +minds are liable, from the acuteness of their sensibility, to be +unjust. We are once again very good friends. + +Not but we have just been engaged in a very impassioned scene. The +subject of family consent was revived by him; and, as I intended, I +informed him that delay seemed inevitable. + +The struggle of his feelings, when he heard it, appeared to be violent. +His exclamations were characteristic of his habitual impetuosity; the +strength of them excited sensations, and alarms, which prove the power +he has over the passions. Oh how I desire to see that power well +directed! How precious, how potent will it then become! + +One thing, and only one, he vehemently affirmed, could appease the +perturbation of his mind, and preserve him from wretchedness which none +but those who felt like him could conceive-- + +And what, I asked, was that?-- + +He durst not speak it--Yet speak he must, plead he must. Should he +fail, phrensy, despair, he knew not what, be something fearful would +indubitably follow-- + +Again, what was it?-- + +Might he hope? It depended on me; and denial and distraction were the +same-- + +He made me shudder! And, serious when I heard it though I found his +demand to be, his manner inspired a confused dread of something +repugnant; something eminently wrong. + +He ventured at last to speak. I believe he watched his moment. The +passions, Louisa, however disturbed, are always cunning. He demanded a +promise, solemn and irrevocable, to be his. + +Such a promise, I answered, was unnecessary; and, if at all, could only +be given conditionally-- + +There were no conditions to which he was not ready to subscribe-- + +I replied, too much readiness denoted too little reflection; and not +fortitude sufficient to fulfil such conditions. + +Fortitude could never fail him, having me not only for an example but a +reward. Again he repeated, without my promise, my sacred promise, he +really and seriously feared distraction! That this was weakness he was +ready to allow: but if it were true, and true it was, should I want +love, I yet had too much benevolence not to desire to avert +consequences which, beyond all others, are horrible to imagination. + +He has surely very considerable knowledge of the human heart; for his +tone and manner produced all the effect he intended. I had foreseen the +probability of such a request, though not all the urgency with which it +was made, and had argued the question of right and wrong. My conclusion +had been that such a promise, with certain provisos, was a duty; and +accordingly I gave it; stipulating power to retract, should experience +teach us that our minds and principles could not assimilate. + +At first he was not satisfied. Intreaties the most importunate that +language could supply were repeated, that I should make no such +exceptions. They were impossibilities; needless, but tormenting. +Finding however that I was resolved, he softened into acquiescence, +thanked me with all the transports which might be expected from him, +and kissed my hand. He would not have been so satisfied, had I not very +seriously repulsed the encroaching freedoms which I had lately found +him assuming; since which he is become more guarded. + +What latent inconsistency is there, Louisa, in my conduct, which can +incite the alarms to which I feel myself subject? The moment I had made +the promise I shuddered; and, while acting from the strongest sense of +duty, and the most ardent desire of doing good, I felt as if the act +were reprehensible and unjust.--It is the words of Frank that are the +cause: on them my mind dwells, and painfully repeats them, as if in a +delirium: like a singing in the ear, the tolling of death-bells, or the +burthen of some tragic ditty, which memory, in its own despite, harps +upon, and mutters to itself!--'_He is certain that I act from mistaken +principles!--To the end of time he shall persist in thinking me his by +right!_' + +There must be something amiss, something feeble in my mind, since the +decision of reason cannot defend me from the awe which this surely too +hasty, too positive assertion inspires! It haunts my very dreams! + +Clifton left me; and, being gone, I went into the parlour. Frank was +there. He had a book in his hand, and tears in his eyes. I never beheld +a look more melancholy. Capable as he is of resisting the cowardice of +self-complaint and gloom, still there are moments, I perceive, in which +he can yield; and, sighing over others woes, can cast a retrospective +glance on self. He had been reading the Julia of Rousseau. The picture +given by St. Preux of his feelings had awakened sympathy too strong to +be resisted. + +We fell into conversation. I wished to turn his thoughts into a more +cheerful channel; but my own partook too much of the same medium, not +to assimilate themselves in part to his languor. + +You seem pensive, Frank. What is the subject of your meditations? + +The sorrows of St. Preux, madam. + +Then you are among the rocks of Meillerie? Or standing a partaker of +the danger of Julia on the dreadful precipice? + +No, madam. The divine Julia is dead!--[Had you heard the sigh he gave, +Louisa--!] I am at a passage which I suspect to be still more sublime. +I am sure it is equally heart-rending. + +Ay!--Which is that? + +It is Clara, at the table of Wolmar; where the child, with such +simplicity, conjures up the infantine but almost perfect semblance of +the dead. If ever laughter inspired the horrors of distraction, it was +the laugh of Clara! + +It is a wonderful passage. But I find you were rather contemplating the +sorrows of the friend than of the lover. + +Pardon me, madam. I was considering, since the friend was thus on the +very brink of despair, what must be the force of mind which could +preserve the lover. + +Friendship and love, in such minds, are the same. + +Perhaps so, madam. + +Can there be any doubt? + +When the lover and the friend are united, the heart is reluctant to own +its feelings can be equalled. + +Ought you not to avoid such a book, Frank; at least for the present? + +If it led me into error; otherwise not. I think I know what were the +author's mistakes; and he not only teaches but impresses, rivets, +volumes of truth in my mind. + +The recollection of what had just passed with Clifton forced itself +upon me, Louisa; it made me desirous of putting a question to Frank on +the subject, and I asked-- + +What is your opinion of promises? + +I think them superfluous, nugatory, and therefore absurd. + +Without exception? + +Yes--We cannot promise to do wrong: or, if we do, cannot +perform--Neither can we, without guilt, refrain from doing right; +whether we have or have not promised. + +Some glimpse of this truth, for I perceive it to be one, had shot +across my mind; but not with the perspicuity of your proposition--I am +inclined to be a rude interrogator: I have another question to ask [He +bowed]--I own you are seldom wrong, and yet I hope--[I remember, +Louisa, that I gave a deep sigh here; and it must not be concealed]--I +hope that you have been wrong, once in your life. + +Madam! + +But perhaps you have changed your opinion--Do you still think as you +did?--Are you still _certain that I act from mistaken principles?_ [He +instantly understood me--Had you seen his look, Louisa--!] + +I am, madam. + +And _shall persist to the end of time?_ + +To the end of time. + +I could not bear it, Louisa. I burst away. + +What rash impulse was it that hurried me forward to tempt this +trial?--Alas! It was the vain hope, for vain it appears to be, he might +have retracted. + +My heart is too full to proceed--Heaven bless you!--Heaven bless you, +my dear friend!--You see how weak I am. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXIII + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Oliver, I must fly!--There is neither peace nor safety for me if I +remain--Resolution begins to faint under these repeated and oppressive +struggles--Life is useless, virtue inefficient, time murdered, and I +must fly!--Here I can do nothing but doubt, hope, despair, and linger +in uncertainty: my body listless, my mind incoherent, my days wasted in +vain reveries on absurd possibilities, and my nights haunted by the +confused phantoms of a disturbed and sickly brain!--I must fly! + +But whither?--I know not!--If I mean to be truly master of my +affections, seas must separate us! Impossibility must be made more +impossible!--'Tis that, Oliver, which kills me, that ignis fatuus of +false hope--Were she even married, if her husband were not immortal, I +feel as if my heart would still dwell and feed on the meagre May-be! It +refuses to renounce her, and makes a thousand and a thousand efforts to +oblige me again to urge its just claims. + +I am in the labyrinth of contradictions, and know not how to get out. +My own feelings, my remarks on hers, the looks, actions and discourse +of this dangerous lover are all embroiled, all incongruous, all +illusory. I seem to tempt her to evil by my stay, him I offend, and +myself I torment--I must therefore begone! + +Oliver, our hearts are united!--Truth and principle have made them one, +and prejudice and pride have not the power to dissever them!--She +herself feels this intimately, yet persists in her mistake. I think, +Oliver, it is not what the world or what she understands by love which +occasions this anarchy of mind. I think I could command and reprove my +passions into silence. Either I mistake myself, or even now, situated +as I am, I could rejoice were there a certainty, nay were there but +strong probabilities, that her favourite purpose on Clifton should be +effected. But the more I meditate, and my hours, days, and weeks pass +away and are lost in meditation on this subject, the more does my mind +persist in its doubts, and my heart in its claims. + +Surely, Oliver, she is under a double mistake! Surely her reasonings +both on him and me are erroneous. + +I must be honest, Oliver, and tell thee all my feelings, fears, and +suspicions. They may be false. I hope they are, but they exist. I +imagine I perceive in him repeated and violent struggles to appear what +he is not, nay what I doubt he would despise himself for being! + +Is not this an unjustifiable, a cruel accusation? Why have I this keen +this jealous sensibility? Is it not dishonourable to my understanding? + +Yet should there be real danger, and I blind to it! Should I neglect to +warn her, or rather to guard and preserve her from harm, where shall I +find consolation? + +Oliver! There are times when these fears haunt me so powerfully that my +heart recoils, my blood freezes, and my whole frame is shaken with the +terrific dream!--A dream?--Yes, it must be a dream! If not, the +perversion of his mind and the obduracy of his heart are to me wholly +incomprehensible! + +I must be more guarded--Wrongfully to doubt were irreparably to injure! +My first care must be to be just. + +Mark, Oliver, how these wanderings of the mind mislead and torment me! +One minute I must fly, to recover myself, and not to disturb and +way-lay others; the next I must stay, to protect her who perhaps is +best able to protect herself! + +I have no plan: I labour to form one in vain. That single channel into +which my thoughts are incessantly impelled is destructive of all order +and connexion. The efforts of the understanding are assassinated by the +emotions of the heart; till the reproaches of principle become +intolerable, and the delusions of hope distracting!--A state of such +painful inutility is both criminal and absurd. + +The kindness of the father, brother, and aunt, the sympathising +tenderness which bursts from and overcomes the benign Anna, the delay +of the marriage--Oliver!--I was recapitulating the seeming inspirations +of my good angel, and have conjured up my chief tormentor!--This +delay!--Where does it originate?--With whom?--With--! I must fly!--This +of all motives is the most irrefragable! I must fly!--But when, or how, +or where, what I must undertake, whither go, or what become, is yet all +vague and incoherent conjucture. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXXIV + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Mr. Henley, + +It is now some time since I received your letter. It astonished and I +must say offended me so much, that I do not yet know what answer to +return. You say I have thrown you into a quandary, Mr. Henley; and I +can very sincerely return your compliment, Mr. Henley; for nothing can +be more unintelligible than your whole letter is to me, Mr. Henley. And +I must say, I think it not very grateful in you, Mr. Henley, nor in my +opinion very proper, to write me such a letter, Mr. Henley; that is as +far as I understand its meaning, Mr. Henley. I have no desire, Mr. +Henley, to quarrel with you, if I can help it; but I must say I think +you have forgotten yourself, Mr. Henley. It is very unlike the manner +in which you have been used to comport yourself to me, Mr. Henley; for, +if I understand you rightly, which I own it is very difficult to do, +you threaten me with foreclosures, Mr. Henley; which I must say, Mr. +Henley, is very improper demeanour from you to me, Mr. Henley. Not that +I seek a rupture with you, Mr. Henley; though I must say that all this +lies very heavy upon my mind, Mr. Henley. + +You insinuate that you are grown rich, I think, Mr. Henley. So much the +better for you. And you seem to know, Mr. Henley, that I am grown poor: +or I think, Mr. Henley, you would not have written to me in a style +which I could almost be tempted to call impertinent, but that I wish to +avoid a quarrel with you, Mr. Henley, unless you force me to it. There +is law as you say, Mr. Henley, for every man; but law is a very fretful +and indeed fearful thing, to which you know I am averse, Mr. Henley. +Not but there are proceedings, Mr. Henley, which may lead me to +consider how far it is necessary. + +I must say, Mr. Henley, that my astonishment is very great, after +writing me word, as you did, that I might have the money, which I took +very kindly of you, that you should now contradict yourself so +flagrantly [I am obliged to repeat it, Mr. Henley] and tell me it is +not to be had. What you mean by the whats, and the whys, and the +wherefores being forthcoming, is really above my capacity, Mr. Henley; +and I request you would speak plainly, that I may give a plain answer. + +You say you can keep your hat on your head, and look your betters in +the face, Mr. Henley. May be so. But I leave it to your better judgment +to consider, Mr. Henley, whether you ought to forget that they are your +betters. + +There are indeed, as you tell me, wheels within wheels, Mr. Henley; for +I find that you, and not my son, are in possession of the Edgemoor +estate. God bless us all, and give us clean hands and hearts, Mr. +Henley! I say no more! Though I must say that, when I heard it, my hair +almost stood an end! + +You talk a great deal about somebody's son, Mr. Henley. You have +puzzled me much; but I think you must mean your own son. Though what +you mean beside is more than I can divine. I am very unwilling, Mr. +Henley, to think any thing to your disadvantage; and I must say that I +could wish you would not speak by ifs, and ands, and innuendos; but let +me know at once what you mean, and all you mean, and then I shall know +how to act. + +Your son, I own, is a very excellent young gentleman; a very +extraordinary young gentleman; and no person can be more ready to +acknowledge his merits than I, and my whole family. You seem offended +with my offer of a commission for him; which I own astonishes me; for I +must say, Mr. Henley, that I thought I was doing you an act of +kindness. Not that I blame your prudence, sir; or your aversion to the +prodigal spendthrifts, who too frequently are fond of red coats and +cockades, which are so offensive to your notions of prosperity. + +I am not unwilling to own that I, and all my family, are even under +obligations to your son. For which reason I am the more inclined to +overlook what I must say does not please me, in your last very +unexpected letter. Let me tell you, Mr. Henley, that I cannot but hope +you will think better of it; and that you will use your kind endeavours +to get me the money, according to your promise, which I shall take very +friendly of you, sir; and shall be willing to do any thing for your +son, in that case, for your sake as well as for his own, which reason +can require. + +I beg, Mr. Henley, you will consider very seriously of this; and I +should hope you would not forget former times, and the very many +favours which, in my life, I have done you. I do assure you, sir, I +have the utmost desire to continue on a good understanding with you; +but I think I have some right to expect your compliance from motives of +reason, not to say of gratitude. So, committing this to your +consideration, and expecting an agreeable answer, I remain, sir, as +usual, + +A. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXV + +_Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives_ + +Most Onnurable Sir, + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +It doth appear as how your onnur be amisst. Whereby I did a partly a +queery as much; thof so be as it be no fault of mine. For why? There be +reasons and causes. For when as a man has a nothink to fear of nobody, +I am of a mind that a may pen his thofts to any man. Why not? Always a +savin and exceptin your onnurable onnur. + +And ast for a man's a portin himself, there be times and seasons for +all thinks. Whereof as Friar Bacon said to Friar Bungy and of the +Brazen-head, A time was--A time is--And a time is past. And ast for a +threatening about foreclosures, why what have I to say to a gentleman, +if a will not redeem his mortgages when the time be? The law must look +to it, to be sure. Always a savin and exceptin your onnurable onnur, +still say I. So that it be altogether compus mentus that quarrels and +rupturs are none of my seekin. Whereby your onnurable onnur will look +to that. No man can deny that every man has a rite to his own. For why? +A pays scot and lot, and has a nothink for it but law. + +And ast for a man's a growin of rich, why as I do take it a's a not the +worse for that. And ast for a man's a growin of poor, why a what had I +to do, thof so be that some be wise and some be otherwise? Whereof so +long as the rhino do ring, the man is the man, and the master's the +master. A's a buzzard in grain that do flicker, and fleer, and tell a +gentleman a be no better nur a bob gudgeon, a cause a do send the +yellow hammers a flying; for thof it might a be happen to be true +enough, a would get small thanks for his pains. Every man eat his meat, +and he that do like cut his fingers. The foolish hen cackles, and the +cunning quean chuckles. For why? A has her chalk and her nest egg +ready. Whereof I tout and trump about at no man, an a do not tout and +trump about at me. Always a savin and exceptin your onnurable onnur; +and not a seekin of quarrels and rupturs, an they do not seek me. +Otherwise, why so. Plain and positive; that's best, when a man do find +the shoe to pinch. + +And ast for law, why he that has a got the longest head will have a +most on't for money: and he that has a got the longest purse will +behappen not to be the first to cry peccavi. Whereof if a man do don +his hat on his head, an a see good cause, why not? For I do a warrant a +will see good cause, an a do doff it under his arm. + +Whereby every why has a wherefore. Any fool can a put down his five +nothings; but a's a clever kinchin an a can place a so much as a I +afore 'em. Whereof the first frost that brings a white crow may, in +sitch a case, behappen to shew him his betters. For why? A's a got +wherewithall to get more: and a knows the trick on't too, or a would a +never a got so much. Whereby an it comes to a huff an a gruff, a may +not chuse to be arm a kimbo'd, any more nur another; for a may be +happen to have a Rowland for an Oliver. A may behappen to be no +Jack-a-farthin weazle-faced whipster. A may have stock and block to go +to work upon; and may give a rum for a glum: always a savin and +exceptin your onnurable onnur. Showin whereby as I want no quarrels nur +rupturs, but peace and good will towards men, if so be as the whys and +the wherefores do a bear me out. + +Whereof thof a man be but a Mister, a may behappen to buy and sell a +knight of the shire: that is under favour, and a savin and exceptin of +your onnurable onnur. For why? I be as ready to a quit my hands of +quarrels and rupturs as another. + +Whereby if the Edgemoor estate be mine, why it is my own. For why? Bein +it was my cash that a covered it. Whereof his younk onnur was all a +mort, and a down in the mouth, when a did come to me. The world was +wide, and a might a gone further and a fared worse. A's a dolt indeed +that will part with money, and not have money's worth. Whereby I had a +bin starvin, and pinchin, and scrapin, and coilin, and moilin; in heat +and in cold; up a early and down a late; a called here and a sent +there; a bidden and a chidden, and a forbidden to boot; every body's +slave forsooth; whereby I am now my own master. Why not? Who can gain +say it? Mayhap a savin and exceptin of your onnurable onnur; witch is +as it may be. For why? I wants a nothink to do with quarrels and +rupturs, no more nur another; but that's as thinks shall turn out. + +Whereby one man's hair mayhap may stand an end as well as another's, +exceptin that I wears a wig. An I give the kole, I'll have the dole. +And ast for somebody's son, if so be as a man be to be twitted a thisn, +after all the gunpowder pistols and bullets, and scowerins, and firms, +and bleedins, and swimmins, and sinkins, and risks, and rubs, and sea +scapes, and shore scapes, at home and abroad, by land and by water, and +savins of precious lives and precious cash, why if so be as all this be +to stand for nothink, it is a time for a man to look about'n. + +To be sure your onnur is so good as to say my son is a younk gentleman, +and so forth. Whereby this gracious and ever mercy fool lovin kindness +would go to the cockles of my heart; ay and my chitterlins would crow, +and I should sing O be joyfool, if so be as I did find as words wus any +think but wind. Whereof when your onnurable onnur is compulsionated, +willy nilly, to be so all bountifool as to profess to the ownin of +obligations, why that is summut. But fair speeches wonnot heal broken +pates; and a mouthfool of moonshine will send a man hungry to bed. +Promise may be a fair dog, but Performance will catch the hare. + +Whereby had thinks a bin as they might a bin, why then indeed it would +a bin summut. But as to the wherewithalls of the twenty thousand +pounds, being as it be, why the think is unpossable to be done. For +why? The case is altered. Whereof it is best to be downright. Will is +free, and money for me. + +Whereby this marriage match with the Clifton family, had my oar bin +asked, would never a bin of my advizin. For why? I shall not give my +lard to butter my neighbour's bacon. + +And ast for favours received, why may be so. But what then? Since if so +be thof it wus sometimes fair, why it wus sometimes foul. And a good +man may behappen to be all as much as a good master. And if a man have +a spent his whole lifetime in a pickin, and a cullin, and a coinin, and +a furbishin up fine words, to tickle the ears of fine folks, why a +ought in all conscience to get the wherewithalls for his pains. For if +an a gentleman will eat pine apples a must not expect to pay for +pippins. Always as aforesaid a savin and exceptin your onnurable onnur. +So that if quarrels and rupturs will come, they may not a be said to be +of my seekin. + +Bein as I am, ever and amen, with all pious jakillations and jubilees +of blessins and praise, never failin to pray for due time to repent us +of all our manifold sins and wickedness, God of his mercy be good unto +us, and save us and deliver us, on our death bed, from the everlastin +flamin sulphur of the burnin lake. Amen, an it be his holy will! +Umbelly beggin leave to superscribe meself, + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXXVI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +I have had a scene with Frank, which affected me much, and which has +occasioned another quarrel, or kind of a quarrel, with Clifton. Sir +Arthur had just left the room. He had been asking Frank whether there +were any possible way by which he could serve him. We all were his +debtors; very deeply; and he should be happy to find any mode of +discharging the obligation. Sir Arthur spoke with an earnestness which, +in him, is by no means customary. But Frank had nothing to ask, nothing +to propose. + +I was sitting at my harpsichord, amusing myself; and, Sir Arthur being +gone, stopped to tell Frank how sincerely I joined in Sir Arthur's +feelings. + +I have nothing, madam, said he, to hope from Sir Arthur: but to you I +have a request to make, which you would greatly oblige me should you +grant-- + +I trembled, Louisa. I was afraid of some new contest of the passions; a +revival of ideas which I myself had so lately, and so inadvertently, +called to mind. I am persuaded the blood forsook my cheeks, when I +asked him what it was: for Frank, with a tenderness in his voice that +was indeed honourable to his heart, prayed, conjured me not to be +alarmed--It was a trifle--He would be silent--He would not give me a +moment's pain to gratify a million of such silly wishes. + +He both moved and revived me. It could not be any thing very dreadful, +and I entreated him to speak. There was nothing he could ask I would +refuse. + +He hesitated, and I then became urgent. At last he named--His +song!--Again, Louisa, he almost struck me to the heart!--He feared he +offended me; but there was something so enchanting in the air that he +could not forget it, could not resist the wish to possess a copy. + +It was impossible to refuse. I went to my papers, and brought it. The +evil spirit of thoughtlessness possessed me, and when I delivered it I +asked--Is there any thing else?-- + +Your kindness, madam, said he, is unalterable. Could I?--Durst I--? + +What?-- + +He paused-- + +Speak!-- + +He laid the song upon the music-desk, and looked----No no--I will not +attempt to tell you how! + +Words were needless; they could not petition with such eloquence--A +barbarian could not have refused. I rambled over the keys, hemmed, and +endeavoured to collect myself. At last a sense of propriety, of reason, +of principle, came to my aid, and bade me be master of my mind. I began +to sing, but no effort could enable me to give that expression of which +I had before found the words so susceptible. + +Could you think it, Louisa? Do you now foresee, do you forebode what +happened?--Your brother came in!-- + +To have stopped, to have used evasion, to have had recourse to +falsehood would have turned an act of virtue into contemptible vice. I +continued. Clifton came and looked over my shoulder. The music was on +one sheet of paper, the words were on another, in the writing of Frank. +Your brother knew the hand. + +When I had ended, Frank took both the papers, thanked me, and retired. +I could perceive the eyes of Clifton sparkle with emotion; I might +almost say rage. He would have spoken, but could not; and I knew not +how safely to begin. + +At length, a consciousness of not having done or at least intended to +do wrong gave me courage. I determined not to wait to be questioned: I +asked him how he liked the song. + +Oh! Exceedingly!--It was very fine!--Very fine! + +The words are Mr. Henley's. + +I imagined as much, madam. + +I thought them expressive, and amused myself with putting a tune to +them. + +I am as good as a witch! + +How did you like the subject? + +What subject, madam? + +Of the words. + +I really don't know--I have forgotten-- + +Nay, you said you thought them very fine! Oh! Yes!--True!--Very +fine!--All about love--I recollect. + +Well, and having so much faith in love, you do not think them the worse +for that. + +Oh, by no means!--But I thought you had. + +Love in a song may be pardonable. + +Especially, madam, if the song be written by Mr. Henley. + +Clifton!--You almost teach me to despair!--You do not know me!--Perhaps +however I am more to blame than you, at present. Timidity has given me +some appearance of conscious guilt, which my heart disavows. But, as +there is scarcely any error more dangerous to felicity than suspicion, +I own I am sorry to see you so frequently its slave. Never think of +that woman for a wife, in whom you cannot confide. And ask yourself +whether I ought to marry a man who cannot discover that I merit his +confidence? + +I find, indeed, implicit faith to be as necessary in love as in +religion--But you know your power, madam. + +An indifferent spectator would rather say you know yours. + +You will not go, madam, and leave me thus? + +I must. + +In this misery? + +I have letters to write, and visits to pay. + +You cannot be so cruel?--By heaven, madam, this torment is more than +nature can support! + +Less impetuosity, Clifton; less raptures, and more reason. + +You would have me rock, madam! Unfeeling marble! + +I would have you a man; a rational, and, if possible, a wise one. Stay +at least for a moment!--Hear me!--Do not leave me in these doubts! + +What doubts?--Do I not tell you the words are Mr. Henley's? The air is +mine. If setting them were any guilt, it is a guilt of which I am not +conscious. Shew me that it is criminal and I will instantly retract. We +must either overcome these narrow, these selfish propensities, or we +shall hope in vain to be happy. + +I--I--I make no accusation-- + +Do but examine before you accuse, and I will patiently hear and +cheerfully answer to accusation. If you think it wrong in me not to +treat virtue and genius with neglect, bring me your proofs, and if I +cannot demonstrate their fallacy I will own my error. Let me add, the +accusation of reason is a duty; from which, though painful, we ought +not to shrink. It is the mistaken accusation of the passions only at +which justice bids the heart revolt. + +Here, Louisa, once again I left him, with struggles apparently more +acute than the former. And my own mind is so affected, so oppressed as +it were by crowds of ideas, that I do not yet know whether this were an +accident to be wished, or even whether I have entirely acted as I +ought. My mind will grow calmer, and I will then begin the scrutiny. + +I am minute in relating these particulars, because I am very desirous +of doing right. And who is so capable of being my judge, or who so +anxious I should not err, as my dear Louisa, my friend, my sister? + +All good be with you! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXVII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +Oh, Fairfax, if my choler rose when last I wrote, where shall I now +find words hot enough to paint the phrensy of my soul?--How could I +rage and rave!--Is it come to this?--So barefaced!--So fearless!--So +unblushingly braved!-- + +Fairfax, I came upon them!--By surprise!--My alert and watchful spirit, +an adept in such arts, accustomed to them, and rendered suspicious by +practice and experience, foreboded some such possibility--My knock at +the door was counterfeit. I strode up stairs to the drawing-room, +three steps at a time--Swiftly and suddenly--I opened the door--There +they sat!--Alone!--She singing a miserable ditty, a bead-roll of +lamentable rhymes, strung together by this Quidam!--This +Henley!--Nay!--Oh!--Damnation!--Read and tremble!--Read and aid me to +curse!--Set by her!--Ay!--A ballad--A love complaint--A most doleful +woe-begone elegy; of sorrows, sufferings, fate, despair, and death; +scribbled by him, and set and sung by her!--By her!--For his comfort, +his solace, his pleasure, his diversion!--I caught them at it!--Nay +they defied me, despised the wrath that drank up the moisture of my +eyes, blazed in my blood, and scorched my very soul!-- + +And after this will I blench? Will I recant the denunciations which +legitimate vengeance had pronounced?-- + +Fairfax--I am not certain that I do not hate her!--No!--Angelic +sorceress!--It is not hatred, neither--But it is a tumult, a congregate +anarchy of feelings which I cannot unravel; except that the first +feature of them is revenge!--Roused and insulted as I am, not all her +blandishments can dazzle, divert, or melt me! Were mountains to be +moved, dragons to be slain, or lakes of liquid fire to be traversed, I +would encounter all to attain my end!--Yes--My romance shall equal +hers. No epic hero, not Orpheus, Aeneas, or Milton's Lucifer himself, +was ever more determined. I could plunge into Erebus, and give +battle to the legion phantoms of hell, to accomplish my fixed +purpose!--Fixed!--Fixed!--Hoot me, hiss at me, despise me if I turn +recreant! No--Then may all who ever heard the name of Coke Clifton make +it their byword and their scoff; and every idiot curl the nose and +snuff me to scorn! + +Recollect but the various affronts I have received, Fairfax, from her +and [Oh patience!] Her inamorato! For is he not so?--Wrongs, some of +which irritate most because they could not be resented; insults, some +petty some gigantic, which ages could not obliterate; call these to +mind, and then think whether my resolves be not rock-built! Insolent +intrusion has been his part from the first moment to the last. The +prince of upstarts, man could not abash him, nor naked steel affright! +On my first visit, entrance was denied by him! Permission was asked of +a gardener's son, and the gardener's son sturdily refused! I argued! I +threatened!--I!--And arguments and threats were so much hot breath, but +harmless! Attempts to silence or to send him back to his native barn +alike were baffled; and I, who planned his removal, was constrained to +petition for his stay. Yes, constrained!--It was do it, or!--Oh!--Be +faithful to me, memory!--He was elected president of opinions and +disputes, past, present and to come. Appeals must all be made to him, +and his sentence was definitive. Law or gospel, physics or metaphysics; +himself alone superior to college, court, or convocation. Before him +sunk scholiast and schools. In his presence the doctors all must stand +uncapped: the seraphic, the subtle, and the singular; the illuminated, +the angelic, and the irrefragable to him, were tyros all. Our censor +in private, and in public our familiar: like a malignant demon, no +respect, no place, no human barriers could exclude him. On no side +could the offended eye turn, and not find him there. Disgraced by his +company, counteracted by his arrogance, insulted by his sarcasms; +obliged to accept the first of favours, life, at his hands; his +apparent inferior in the moment of danger; my ministry rejected for +his, nay contemned, in a case where the gentleman, the man of the +world, and the man of honour merited undoubted preference; and, as the +climax of injury, wronged in my love!--Rivalled!--Furies!-- + +And she!--Has she been less contumelious, less annoyant, less +tormenting?--His advocate, his abettor, his adulator, with me only +she was scrupulous and severe. I generously and almost instantly +forgot all former resolves, and would have thrown myself into her +arms--Unconditionally--I, who had been accustomed to give the law, +not to receive. I assumed not the dictator. I, whose family, courage, +person, and parts have made me a favourite with the brave and fair, +though flushed with success, far from claiming superiority, I came to +cast myself, my freedom, and my trophies at her feet--Came, and was +rejected! Bargained with at least; put off with ifs and possibilities! + +I must stop--Must think no more--Or the hurrying blood will burst my +veins, or suffocate my swelling heart, and impede just retribution for +these and all my other thousand wrongs, which only can be avenged by +calm and subtle foresight--Yet think not that the smallest of them is +forgotten--Oh no!-- + +Well then, calm will I be; for I can be, will be any thing rather than +not attain this supreme of pleasures, divine vengeance! Yes, anger must +be bridled: it has now a second time made me tread backward more than +all the steps I had taken in advance. My brain is labouring for some +certain and uniform plan, but is at present so disturbed that thought +can preserve no settled train. + +Previous to this second childish overflow of passion [for if I would +succeed childish it is] I had played a master stroke, in which indeed I +must own passion was for once my best ally. With most ardent +importunity, I with great difficulty wrested a promise from her to be +mine. These romancers, Fairfax, hold love promises to be binding and +sacred. And this obtained I thought a fair foundation for my fabric. + +The current of my thoughts is now wholly turned to this subject. A +thousand manoeuvres crowding present themselves; nor can I say how many +must be employed. I have generally found my brain rich in expedients, +and I think it will not fail me now. I recollect having mentioned the +maid, Laura: she is secured, and has been for some time past. The +fondness of the fool with one less expert would be dangerous; but I +have taught her to rail at me occasionally to her mistress, and to +praise the favorite, who has never lately been any great favorite with +her, having as I guess overlooked her when she had kinder inclinations. +She was tickled with the contrivance, which promised to secure her so +well from the suspicion of her mistress, and she acts her part +tolerably. In fact her mistress seems a being without suspicion, +superior to it, and holding it in contempt--So much the better! + +This fellow, this king of the cucumber-beds must be removed. I know +not yet the means, but they must be found. Present he is dangerous; +absent he may perhaps be taught to act his part with safety and effect. +My ideas are not yet methodised, but I have a confused foresight of +various modes by which this and much more may and must be accomplished. + +But no common efforts can be successful--Deep--Deep must be the plot by +which she is to be over-reached, the pit into which she must fall: and +deep it therefore shall be. There is no art I will not practise, no +restraint to which I will not submit, no desperate expedient to which I +will not have recourse to gratify my soul's longing--I will be +revenged!--The irrevocable decree is gone forth--I will be +revenged!--Fairfax, you soon shall hear of me and my proceedings. +Farewell. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +This letter, dear friend of my heart, is begun in a very melancholy +mood. How easy it is to undertake; how difficult to overcome! With +what facility did I say to myself--Thus will I do, and thus--How firmly +did I promise! Truth appeared so beautiful, so captivating, so +omnipotent, that armed by her an infant could not but conquer. +Perseverance alone was requisite, and I could persevere. The solid +basis of the earth should almost shake ere I would waver!--Poor, vain +creature!--Surely, Louisa, we are not all so--Heaven forbid!-- + +Why am I thus? Why does my heart faint within me? Indeed, Louisa, I +begin to fear I have vaunted of powers I do not possess; and prescribed +to myself duties too dignified, too mighty for me--And must I abandon +an enterprise I deemed so noble?--I have meditated on it, Louisa, till +I could weep-- + +I will not yet despair. At least one effort more, and a strong one, I +will make--Alas! I am weary of this promising. My braggart strength is +impotency, or little better. But I will do my best; and truth, +sincerity, and good intent must be my trust. + +My present determination is to relate to your brother all that has +passed between me and Frank. I will once more state my feelings, my +principles, and my plan. The purity of my heart must be my shield. To +contend thus is painful; yet most willingly would I contend, were it +productive of the good at which I aim. But instead of gaining ground I +seem to lose. Oh that I were more wise, that I better knew the human +heart, and that I well could wield the too gigantic weapons of truth! +But I fear they are above my force, and pity my own imbecility. + +The hour of appointment is come. Clifton will soon be here. I have been +preparing my mind, taxing my memory, and arranging my thoughts. Oh that +this effort may be more successful than the past! Did he but know all +the good I wish him, his heart would surely not feel anger--He shall +not die, said Frank!--Can I forget it?--How did my soul glow within me, +when, hopeless but the moment before, I beheld nature again struggling +for existence, and returning life once more stir in the convulsive lip! +How did my ears tingle with--'He shall not die!'--I saw a noble quality +exerted, and thought it was but to wish and to have, to imitate and to +succeed--The brother of my Louisa!--A mind too that might out-soar the +eagle, and gaze on the sun of truth! + +There must be some cause for my failure, if I fail--With true +simplicity of heart I can say, most earnestly do I wish to do right: +most ardently would I endeavour to prove myself a friend worthy of +Louisa Clifton, and of Frank Henley!--Perhaps the latter is the +cause?--If I have done him wrong, Heaven forgive me! For I think, were +I convicted of it, I could not forgive myself! + +The servant has told me Clifton is below. I must take a few minutes to +breathe--I must collect myself. Oh for the tongues of mediating angels! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXIX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +When last my Louisa heard from me, my mind was depressed. I almost +despaired of the great task I had undertaken. I had likewise an +immediate duty, a disburthening of my soul, a kind of confession of +facts to make, from which education has falsely accustomed us to shrink +with pain, and my spirits were overclouded. This rigorous duty is +performed; hope again begins to brighten, and my eased heart now feels +more light and cheerful. + +Not but it still is tremulous with the sensations by which it has just +been thrilled. I seem to have risen from one of the most interesting +and I believe I may add awful scenes, in which I have ever been +engaged. The recesses of the soul have been searched; that no +retrospective accusation of want of absolute and perfect candour might, +as of late it too often has done, rise to assault me. + +I found Clifton in the parlour. His look was more composed, more +complacent, and remarkably more thoughtful than it had lately been. I +began with stating that the feelings of my heart required every act, +every thought of mine, that had any relation whatever to him, should be +fully and explicitly known. I conjured him to have the goodness to +determine not to interrupt me; that I might perform this office, clear +my conscience, and shew my heart unveiled, undisguised, exactly as it +was; and that he might at once reject it, if it were either unworthy +his acceptance or incompatible with his principles. + +He promised compliance and kept his word. I never knew him a listener +so long, or with such mute patience. I had as I may say studied the +discourse which I made to him, and which I thus began. + +It will not be my intention, Mr. Clifton, in what I am going to say, to +appear better or worse than I am. Should I be partial to myself, I wish +you to detect me. There is nothing I so much desire as a knowledge of +my own failings. This knowledge, were it truly attained, would make the +worst of us angels. Our prejudices, our passions, and our ignorance +alone deceive us, and persuade us that wrong is right. + +I have before acquainted you of the project of Mrs. Clifton and Sir +Arthur, for our union. I have told you of the unfeigned friendship, the +high admiration, and the unbounded love I have for your sister: or in +other words for her virtues. A short acquaintance shewed me that your +mind had all the capacity to which the most ardent of my hopes aspired. +It had indeed propensities, passions, and habits, which I thought +errors; but not incurable. The meanest of us have our duties to fulfil, +which are in proportion to our opportunities, and our power. I imagined +that a duty of a high but possible nature presented itself, and called +upon me for performance. + +You no doubt will smile at my vanity, but I must be sincere. By +instruction, by conversation, and by other accidents, it appeared to me +that I had been taught some high and beneficial truths and principles; +which you, by contrary instruction, conversation, and accidents, had +not attained. Convinced that truth is irresistible, I trusted in the +power of these truths rather than of myself, and said here is a mind to +which I am under every moral obligation to impart them, because I +perceive it equal to their reception. The project therefore of our +friends was combined with these circumstances, which induced me +willingly to join their plan; and to call my friend sister was an +additional and delightful motive. It appeared like strengthening those +bonds between us which I believe no human force can break. + +An obstacle or rather the appearance of an obstacle somewhat +unexpectedly arose. From my childhood I had been in part a witness of +the rising virtues of young Mr. Henley. Difference of sex, of +situation, and of pursuits, prevented us till lately from being +intimate. I had been accustomed to hear him praised, but knew not all +the eminence with which it was deserved. He was my supposed inferior, +and it is not very long since I myself entertained some part of that +prejudice. I know myself now not to be his equal. + +A recollection of combining circumstances convinced me that he had for +some time, and before I suspected it, thought on me with partiality. He +believes there is great affinity in our minds; he avows it, and with a +manly courage becoming his character, which abhors dissimulation, has +since confessed an affection for me; nay has affirmed that unless I +have conceived some repugnance to him, which I have not nor ever can +conceive, I ought as a strict act of justice to myself and him to +prefer him before any other. + +I should acknowledge the cogency of the reasons he assigns, and +certainly entertain such a preference, did it not appear to me that +there are opposing and irreconcileable claims and duties. It is my +principle, and perhaps still more strongly his, that neither of us must +live for ourselves, but for society. In the abstract our principle is +the same; but in the application we appear to differ. He thinks that +the marriage of two such people can benefit society at large. I am +persuaded that the little influence which it would have in the world +would be injurious, and in some sort fatal to the small circle for +which I seem to exist, and over which my feeble influence can extend. + +For these reasons only, and in compliance with what I believe to be the +rigorous but inflexible injunctions of justice, have I rejected a man +whom I certainly do not merit: a man whose benevolent heart, capacious +mind, and extraordinary virtues are above my praise, and I almost fear +beyond my attainment. + +My memory will not furnish me with every word and incident that have +passed between us; and if it would such repetition would be tedious. +But I wish you clearly to understand that Mr. Henley has made these +declarations to me: that my mode of acting and my reasons have been +such as I have mentioned; that I am not myself so perfectly satisfied +with these reasons but that I sometimes am subject to recurring doubts; +and that I do at present and while I have thought or sense shall +continue to admire his genius and his virtue. + +If what he has said or what I have done be offensive to you, if you +cannot think highly of him and innocently of me, if my thoughts +concerning him can possibly be stained with a criminal tinge in your +eyes, it becomes you, and I now most solemnly call upon you, as a man +disdaining deceit, at once to say so, and here to break off all further +intercourse. Esteem, nay revere him I do and ever must; and instead of +being guilty for this, my principles tell me the crime would be to +esteem and revere him less. + +I trust in the frankness of my heart for the proof of its sincerity. My +determination is to have a clear and unspotted conscience. Purity of +mind is a blessing beyond all price; and it is that purity only which +is genuine or of any value. The circumstance I am going to relate may +to you appear strange, and highly reprehensible--Be it so.--It must be +told. + +We never had but one conversation in which the subject of marriage, as +it related to him and me, was directly and fairly debated. He then +behaved as he has done always with that sincerity, consistency, and +fortitude, by which he is so peculiarly characterised. A conversation +so interesting, in which a man of such uncommon merit was to be +rejected by a woman who cannot deny him to be her superior, could not +but awaken all the affections of the heart. I own that mine ached in +the discharge of its duties, and nothing but the most rooted +determination to abide by those duties could have steeled it to +refusal--It was a cruel fortitude! + +But while it ached it overflowed; and to you more especially than to +any other person upon earth, I think it necessary to say that, at a +moment when the feeling of compassion and the dread of being unjust +were excited most powerfully in my bosom, paradoxical as it may seem, +my zeal to demonstrate the integrity and innocence of my mind induced +me to--kiss him! + +I scarcely can proceed----There are sensations almost too strong to be +subdued--The mind with difficulty can endure that mistake, that +contortion, which can wrest guilt out of the most sublime of its +emanations--However, if it were a crime, of that crime I am guilty--I +pretend not to appear other than I am; and what I am it is necessary at +this moment that you should know. + +This conversation and this incident happened on the day on which you +met him in the corridor, coming from my chamber. A day, Mr. Clifton, +worthy of your remembrance and of your emulation; for it afforded some +of the strongest proofs of inflexible courage of which man is at +present capable. He had been robbed of the hope dearest to his heart, +had been rejected by the woman he had chosen to be the friend and +companion of his life, had been enjoined the task of doing all possible +good to his rival, which he had unconditionally promised, and he left +her to--receive a blow from this rival's hand! + +Far be it from me, Mr. Clifton, to wish to give you pain, or insult +your feelings!--Oh no!--I retrace the picture only because I think it +one of the most instructive lessons, for private life, the stores of +memory can supply. + +I must further inform you that but a few days ago I questioned him, +whether he had not changed his opinion concerning me; hoping that after +mature reflection he might have thought, as I do, that to refuse him +was a duty. But he persists in believing it to be an error. He does not +however obtrude his thoughts upon me: on the subject of love an +anchorite could not be more silent, or a brother more delicate. That +one conversation excepted, he has made no further attempts. A few words +were indirectly said, when, as I have just told you, I questioned him; +but they were excited by me. + +With respect to the song, at which you have last taken offence, its +brief history is that it was written, or at least first seen by me, +soon after our arrival in France. I found it on my music-desk; and I +dare affirm it had been left there by mistake, not design. I supposed +it to be his from the hand-writing; and I set it because it affected +me. + +The day on which you found me singing it to him was the first on which +it was ever mentioned by him to me; and then, after he had been pressed +by Sir Arthur to know how he could serve him, a copy of it was begged +from me as the only favour the family could bestow!--He has done us +many favours! Favours which we shall never have an opportunity to +repay! Though my hands are impotent, ere my thoughts can be restrained +from being just to his worth I must be convinced there is guilt in +those thoughts. + +How to address myself now personally to you, Mr. Clifton, I scarcely +know. The world perhaps would call my views extravagant, my pretensions +impertinent, and my plan absurd.--The world must do its will--In the +progress toward truth, I have presumed to think you several steps +behind me. I have proposed to myself in some sort to be your +instructress. I have repeated my plan to the person whom you perhaps +may consider as your rival; I have required his aid, and have avowed +that I think him very considerably your superior. Each and all of these +may be and I suppose are offensive; but the proceedings of rectitude +never can be dark, hidden, and insidious. When I have said all that I +think of you I should hope you will be more inclined to believe me +equitable. + +There are many leading principles in which we differ; and concerning +which till we agree to proceed to marriage would be culpable. These you +were at first eager to examine; but finding the side you took not so +clear and well-established as you had imagined, displeased by +contradiction, and, in the spirit of that gallantry which you profess +to admire, being willing to appear complaisant to the female to whom +you pay your addresses, you have lately declined discussion. You think +no doubt that the lover ought to yield, and the husband to command; +both of which I deny. Husband, wife, or lover, should all be under the +command of reason; other commands are tyranny. Reason and not +relationship alone can give authority. + +You think that the claims of birth to superiority are legitimate: I +hold them to be usurpations. I deem society, and you self, to be the +first of claimants. Duels with you are duties, with me crimes. Suicide +you allow to be generally an act of insanity, but sometimes of virtue. +I affirm that no one, who is not utterly useless in society, or who +cannot by dying be of greater use than by living, can have a right over +his own life: and of the existence of such a being I doubt. You +maintain that what you possess is your own: I affirm it is the property +of him who wants it most. + +These are essential differences. Nor are these all, but perhaps they +are more than sufficient to end the alliance we were seeking. + +Not that I desire to end it--Far, far the reverse!--You, Mr. Clifton, +are so highly gifted, so distinguished in the rank of intellect, and +have a mind of such potency, that to behold its powers employed in the +cause of truth, to be myself instrumental in a work so worthy, and +afterward to become the fast and dearest friend of such a mind is a +progression so delightful, so seducing, that for a time I laboured to +persuade myself of its possibility. + +These hopes begin to fade; and, did you know how much this circumstance +afflicts me, you would at least absolve me from all charge of +indifference. + +Habits and prejudices which are sanctioned by the general practice, and +even by numbers who are in many respects eminently wise and virtuous, +are too stubborn to be overcome by the impotent arguments of a young +female; with whom men are much more prone to trifle, toy, and divert +themselves, than to enquire into practical and abstract truth. In the +storm of the passions, a voice so weak would not be heard. + +That all these impediments should be removed I begin to believe but +little probable; and, till they are removed, as we are we must remain. + +The obstacles to marriage are indeed so numerous that I perceive +calculation to be very much in favour of celibacy: I mean respecting +myself. I ask not riches; but of wealth of mind my expectations by some +would be called extravagant. Yet lower these expectations I cannot; for +that would be to relax in principle. + +I ended; and your brother still sat patient and willing to listen, had +I desired to continue. After a short pause, he replied--The profound +attention I have paid, madam, will I hope convince you I have not been +an idle listener. Your words, or at least the substance of them, have +sunk deep in my heart. Your desire that I should remember them scarcely +can equal mine. To me, madam, they are so important that the moment I +return home, confident as I usually am of my memory, I will not trust +it now, but commit them to writing. + +What your motives are for this unusual care, or whether you do or do +not feel yourself offended, Mr. Clifton, it is not possible for me to +divine: but, as I think it alike unjust to conceal what I have done or +what I have said, however mistaken my words or actions may have been, I +will spare you the trouble of writing, if you think proper, and send +you a tolerably correct transcript of my thoughts tomorrow morning. I +can easily repeat them, assisted by some memorandums that I have +already made, and by the strength of my recollection and my feelings, +which I think are in no danger of a sudden decay. + +You will infinitely oblige me, madam, and I will endeavour to profit by +the favour. My mind is at present as much awake to the subject as +yours--I hope you are not unwilling to converse with me on the topics +on which we may happen to differ? + +Unwilling?--Oh no!--It was your unwillingness that led me almost to +despair--But are you in earnest?--Truly and sincerely in earnest? + +In earnest, madam: truly and sincerely in earnest. + +And will you really reflect, seriously, deeply, on the subject in +question? + +As deeply, madam, as you yourself could wish. + +Mr. Clifton, your present tone and manner rejoice me!--You half revive +my hopes!--But let me conjure you to be sincere with your own heart. +Examine every thing I have said; every thing; especially what relates +to Frank Henley. All that I have observed of your temper, from first to +last, obliges me thus seriously to warn you. + +Fear not, madam; I will obey your injunctions. I will examine with all +the severity you could wish--The cup may have its bitters, but its +contents must be swallowed--You will not judge ill of me, madam, for my +frankness? + +Oh no! Be frank, be true, be worthy of yourself! + +Such as you would have me, madam, I must become--All I request is that +you would aid me in the task. + +And are you indeed as determined as you seem to be? + +I am, madam. [I never before, Louisa, saw your brother look or speak +with such firmness.] You have been kindly pleased to say you once +prescribed it as a duty to yourself to teach, or attempt to teach me +your principles. + +Not mine, but the principles of truth. Cool and fair enquiry is all I +wish. Should any of your principles be better founded than mine, I +shall be most happy to become your scholar. I am aware how impossible +it is that any two people should think exactly alike on any one +subject, much less on all; but on certain great leading points, were +you and I to continue as opposite as we are, and were we to marry, +felicity could not be the consequence. + +Let us hope, madam, it is possible we should make a marriage of +opinions, which you think as necessary as of persons. + +Quite!--Quite!--Let me conjure you however not to deceive yourself! +Pretend to no conviction you do not feel; nor degrade the honest +sincerity of your heart by any unworthy indulgence of desire! + +Here, Louisa, our conversation ended. Company came in, and the +customary occupations of the day took place. But it is with heartfelt +pleasure I add that your brother behaved as if he had forgotten his +former character, and was at last firmly resolved to assume a new one. +I have often endeavoured to encourage hope, but never before felt it in +any thing like the same degree. He cannot but be in earnest; his +determination for the first time to commit all I had said to writing is +an indubitable proof!--May the same propensities continue and +increase!--'He shall not die' will again be the burthen of my +song!--What a noble mind might his become!--Might?--Let us once more be +bold and say will!--Oh that to do were as easy as to say! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +END OF VOLUME IV + + + + +VOLUME V + + + +LETTER LXXX + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +Before you proceed with my letter, Fairfax, read the inclosed +paper![1]--Read!--The hand-writing is hers!--It is addressed to me! Was +repeated to me! Is transcribed for me!--Transcribed by herself!--Read! +And if it be possible believe in your own existence! Believe if you can +that all you see, all you hear, the images that swim before your eyes +and the world itself are real, and no delusion!--For my part I begin to +doubt!--Read!--Oh that I were invisible and standing by your side! + +[Footnote 1: A copy given by Anna to Clifton, as she had promised him, +of all that she had said in her last conversation.] + +Well!--Have you ended?--And do you still continue to breathe?--Are you +not a statue?--Would not the whole universe denounce me liar if, +knowing me, I were to tell it that words like these were not only +spoken to me but are written, lest I should forget the maddening +injuries they contain?--What! Make me her confessor?--Me?--No secret +sin, of thought, word, or deed, concealed!--All remembered, all +recited, all avowed!--Sins committed with the hated Henley!--Sins +against love, against Clifton!--Does she imagine I can look on a paper +like this and, while my eye shoots along the daring the insulting line, +not feel all the fires that now devour me?--Surely she is frantic! + +These things, Fairfax, are above my comprehension! My I amazement must +be eternal, for I never shall be able to understand them.--What! Tell +me, Clifton, of her amorous debates with such a fellow? Appoint him her +head-usher over me? Announce him my rival? Meet my eye unabashed and +affirm him to be my superior? Inform me of the deep hold he has taken +of her heart? Own she kissed him? + +Once again it is incredible! Nay most and still more incredible; for, +strange to say and yet more strange for her to do, even this received +such a varnish from her lips, her eyes, her beauties, her irradiating +zeal, that reason everlastingly renounce me if I scarcely knew, while +she spoke, whether it were not the history of some sylph, some heavenly +spirit she was reciting? + +Yes, Fairfax! There was a moment, a short but dangerous moment, at +which so charmed was I by her eloquence, so amazed by her daring +sincerity, so moved by the white candour of a soul so seeming pure, +that, possessed by I know not what booby devil of generosity, I was on +the point of throwing myself at her feet, confessing the whole guilt of +my intents, and proclaiming myself her true and irrevocable convert! + +And this before the breath that uttered these injuries was cold! + +The siren!--All the beauteous witcheries that ever yet were said or +sung do not equal her!--Circe, Calypso, Morgana, fairy or goddess, +mortal or immortal, knew not to mix the magic cup with so much art! + +Not that it was her arguments. What are they? It was her bright her +beaming eyes, her pouting beauteous lips, her palpitating ecstatic +bosom, her--I know not what, except that even this was not +all!--No!--There was something still more heavenly!--An emanating +deity!--The celestial effulgence of a divine soul, that flowed with +fervour almost convulsive! + +Had you witnessed her elevated aspirations!--Such swelling passions so +mastered, so controlled, till then I never beheld! Like the slow pause +of the solemn death-bell, the big tear at stated periods dropped; but +dropped unheeded. Though she could not exclude them, her stoic soul +disdained to notice such intrusive guests!--Her whole frame shook with +the warfare between the feelings and the will--And well might it shake! + +I went prepared, and lucky it was that I did. My fixed determination +was to be silent, that I might profit by what I should hear. That one +dangerous moment excepted, I was firm!--Firm!--Not to be moved; though +rocks would, had they listened! + +Yes, Fairfax, I did my part. Not that I am certain that to fall at her +feet like a canting methodist, own myself the most reprobate of +wretches, whine out repentance, and implore forgiveness at the all +sufficient fountain of her mercy would not be the very way to impose +upon her best. + +I begin indeed to be angry at myself for not having yet resolved on one +consistent plan. Schemes so numerous present themselves, and none +without its difficulties and objections, that to determine is no easy +task. Circumstances in part must guide me. I must have patience. At +present I can only prepare and keep in readiness such cumbrous engines +as this phlegmatic foggy land of beef and pudding can afford. I must +supply the fire, if I find it necessary to put the machines in motion. + +But, having decreed her fall, my spirits are now alert, and there is +not a being that surrounds me to whom imagination does not assign a +possible part: and that the part should be well-suited to the person +must be my care. + +My first exercise must be on myself. Apathy or the affectation of +apathy must be acquired--Inevitably must be--My passions must be +masked: I must pretend to have conquered them. In their naked and +genuine form they are indecent, immoral, impure, I know not what! But +catch a metaphysical quirk, and let vanity and dogmatic assertion stand +sponsors and baptize it _a truth_, and then raptures, extravagance, and +bigotry itself are deities! Be then as loud, as violent, as intolerant +as the most rancorous of zealots, and it is all the sublime ardour of +virtue. + +Yes! I must learn to ape their contempt of all and every terrene +object, motive, and respect! + +Inclose the strange paper I sent you and return it in your next. I sent +it in her own hand-writing, that your eyes might have full conviction. + +I took a copy of it, but I have since recollected I may want the +original. The time may come when she may assail me with accusation and +complaint: I will then present that paper, and flash guilt upon her! + +I am much deceived if I do not observe in this gardening and improving +knight a want of former cordiality, a decrease of ardour, and perhaps a +wish to retract--Why let him!--To the daughter's deadly sins let him +add new: it will but make invention more active, and revenge more keen! +I will have an eye upon him: I half hope my suspicions are true! + +The aunt Wenbourne too still continues to give laud unto Mr. +Henley!--Damn Mr. Henley!--But she may be necessary; and, as she is +entirely governed by the gull Edward, I must submit to bring myself +into his favour. The thing may easily be done. + +The lordly uncle Fitz-Allen is secure. I frequently dine with him on +what he calls his open day; he being overwhelmed with business, as +blockheads usually are; and I do not fail to insinuate the relationship +in which, if care be not taken, he may hereafter chance to stand to a +gardener's son. His face flames at the supposition, and his red nose +burns more bright! What will it do, should I make him my tool, when he +finds to what good purpose he has been an abettor? Be that his concern; +it neither is nor ever shall be mine. + +But none of these are the exact agent I want; nor have I found him yet. +They at best can only act as auxiliaries. Laura indeed may be eminently +useful; but the plotting, daring, mischievous, malignant yet subaltern +imp incarnate, that should run, fly, dive, be visible and invisible, +and plunge through frost or fire to execute my behests, is yet to be +discovered. + +Were I in Italy, disburse but a few sequins and battling legions would +move at my bidding: but here we have neither cicisbeos, carnivals, +confessors, bravoes nor sanctuaries. No--We have too few priests and +too much morality for our noble corps to flourish in full perfection. + +I know not that all this may be necessary, but I suspect it will, and I +must prepare for the worst; for I will accomplish my purpose in despite +of hell or honesty!--Ay, Fairfax, will!--Gentle means, insinuation, and +hypocrisy shall be my first resource; and if these fail me, then I will +order my engines to play! + +I have been once more reading my copy of this unaccountable paper, and +though every word is engraven in my memory, it dropped from my hand +with new astonishment! Her history of her Mr. Henley, the yearnings of +her heart toward him, and her unabashed justification of all she has +said, all she has thought and all she has done are not to be paralleled +in the records of female extravagance. + +She comes however to the point at last--Calculation is in favour of +celibacy--For once, lady, you are in the right!--We may appear to agree +on cases more dubious, but on that it will be miraculous if we ever +hereafter differ. + +I cannot but again applaud myself, for keeping my preconcerted +resolution of silence and reserve so firmly. I rejoice in my fortitude +and my foresight; for her efforts were so strenuous, and her emotions +so catching, that had I been less prepared all had been lost. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXXI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Yes, yes, Fairfax! She takes the sure and resolute road to ruin, and +travels it with unwearied ardour!--What think you she has done now?--An +earthquake would have been more within my calculation!--She labours +hard after the marvellous!--She has been angling again in the muddy +pool of paradox, and has hooked up a new dogma!--And what is it?--Why +nothing less than an asseveration that the promise she made me is not +binding!--Promises are non-entities: they mean nothing, stand for +nothing, and nothing can claim. + +So be it--It is a maxim, divine apostate, that will at least serve my +turn as effectually as yours. To own the truth, I never thought +promises made to capricious ladies stood for much; nor were my scruples +at present likely to have been increased. If she, a woman, be simple +enough to have faith in the word of man, 'tis her fault. Let her look +to it! + +This is not all: the doctrine is not of her own invention! Mr. Henley, +the eternal Mr. Henley again appears upon the scene, from which he is +scarcely ever a moment absent!--Were it possible I could relent, she is +determined I shall not. But they are both down in my tablets, in large +and indelible characters; on the black list; and there for a time at +least they shall remain. + +My plan, Fairfax, is formed; and I believe completely. When I was first +acquainted with her, as you know, my meaning was honest and my heart +sincere. I was a fool at least for a fortnight; for that was the +shortest period before I began at all to waver. I was indeed deeply +smitten! Nor is desire cooled: delay, opposition, and neglect have only +changed its purpose. She soon indeed taught me to treat her in some +manner like the rest of her sex, and to begin to plot. 'Tis well for me +that I have a fertile brain: and it had been well for her could she +have been contented with the conquest she had made, and have treated me +with generosity equal to my deserts. But a hypocrite she has made me, +and a hypocrite she shall find me; ay and a deep one. + +She has herself given me my clue: she has laid open her whole heart. +She has the fatuity to mimic the perfect heroine! Tell her but it is a +duty, and with the Bramin wives she would lie down, calmly and +resolutely, on the burning pile! + +Well then! I will tell her of a duty of which she little dreams! Yes, +she shall grant every thing I wish as an act of duty! I will convince +her it is one! I! The pretty immaculate lamb must submit in this point +to become my pupil; and it shall go hard or I will prove as subtle a +logician as herself. + +What say you, Fairfax? Is not the project an excellent one? Is it not +worthy of the sapient Doctor Clifton? Shall I lose reputation, think +you, by carrying it into effect? + +I am already become a new man. My whole system is changed. She begins +to praise me most unmercifully; and, while my very heart is tickled +with my success, the lengthened visage of inspired quaker when the +spirit moved was never more demure! I am too pleased, too proud of my +own talents, not to persist. + +Already I am a convert to one of _her truths_. Do laugh, Fairfax! I +have acknowledged that you and your footman are equal! Is it not +ridiculous? However I am convinced! Ay and convinced I will remain, +till time shall be. She shall teach me a truth a day!--Yet, no--I must +not learn too fast; it may be suspicious: though I would be as speedy +as I conveniently can in my progress. + +The zeal of disputation burns within her; and, as I tell you, I am +already one of her very good boys, because the pursuit of my own +project makes me now as willing to listen and hunt after deductions, +such as I want, as she is to teach and to supply me with those +deductions. She starts at no proposition, however extravagant, if it do +but appear to result from any one of her favourite systems, of which +she has a good round number. Rather than relinquish the least of them, +she would suppose the glorious sun a coal-pit; and his dazzling rays no +better than volumes of black smoke, polished and grown bright on their +travels by attrition. She professes it to be the purpose of her life to +free herself from all prejudices. But here she has the modesty to add +the saving clause--'If it be practicable.' + +Could she, Fairfax, have a more convenient hypothesis? Do you not +perceive its fecundity? And, the task being so very difficult, will it +not be benevolent in me to lend her my assistance? What think you? Is +it not possible to prove that marriage is a mere prejudice? + +She shall find me willing to learn many or perhaps all of her +doctrines; and in return I desire to teach her no more than one of +mine. Can any thing be more reasonable, more generous? Nay, I will go +further! I will not teach it her; she shall have all the honour of +teaching it to me! Can man do more? + +The most knotty and perplexed part of my plan was to find a contrivance +to make the gardener's son an actor in the plot. The thing is +difficult, but not impossible. I have various stratagems and schemes, +in the choice of which I must be guided by circumstances. That which +pleases me most is to invite him to sit in state, the umpire of our +disquisitions. + +I think I can depend upon myself, otherwise there would be danger in +the project. But if I act my part perfectly, if I have but the +resolution to listen coolly to their quiddities, sometimes to oppose, +sometimes to recede, and always to own myself conquered on the points +which suit me best, I believe both the gentleman and the lady will be +sufficiently simple to suppose that in all this there will be nothing +apocryphal. They will imagine the gilt statue to be pure gold. I shall +be numbered among their elect! I shall rise from the alembic a saint of +their own subliming! Shall be assayed and stamped current at their +mint! + +Yet I must be cautious. I would put my hand in the fire ere undertake +so apparently mad a scheme, with any other couple in Christendom. +Considering how very warm--Curses bite and tingle on my tongue at the +recollection!--Considering I say how very warm I know their +inclinations toward each other to be, nothing but the proofs I have had +could prompt me to commence an enterprize so improbable. But the +uncommonness of it is a main part of its merit; and I think I know the +ground I have to travel so well that I do not much fear I should lose +my road. + +I am aware that the enemy I have most to guard against is myself. To +pretend a belief in opinions I despise, to sit with saturnine gravity +and nod approbation when my sides are convulsed with laughter, to ape +admiration at what reason contemns and spurns, and to smooth my +features into suavity while my heart is bursting with gall at the +intercourse they continually hold, of becks and smiles and approving +kind epithets, to do all this is almost too much for mortal man! But I +have already made several essays on myself, and I find that the +obstinate resolution which an insatiable thirst of ample retribution +inspires is not to be shaken, and renders me equal even to this task. + +I am well aware however what dangerous quicksands the passions are; and +that a good pilot is never sparing of soundings. I will therefore not +only keep a rigorous watch upon myself, but take such measures as shall +enable me to exclude or retain the grub-monger, as I shall think fit, +during our conversations. + +Thus you are likely soon to hear more of our metaphysics; nay, if you +be but industrious, enough to enable you to set up for yourself, and +become the apostle of Paris. I know no place where, if you have but a +morsel of the marvellous to detail, you will find hearers better +disposed to gape and swallow. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXXII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +A fortnight has almost elapsed since I last wrote to my Louisa, till my +heart begins to cry shame at the delay. Could I plead no other excuse +than the trifling occupations of a trifling world I must sign my own +condemnation; but your brother has afforded me better employment. Our +frequent conversations on many of the best and most dignified of moral +enquiries, his acute remarks and objections, and the difficult problems +he has occasionally given me to solve, have left me in no danger of +being idle. + +Oh, Louisa, how exquisite is the pleasure I feel, to see him thus +determined, thus incessant in his pursuit! A change so fortunate and so +sudden astonishes while it delights!--May it continue!--May it +increase!--May?--Vain unworthy wish!--It must--The mind having once +seized on the clue of truth can neither quit its hold nor become +stationary; it is obliged to advance. And when its powers are equal to +those of Coke Clifton, ought we to wonder at its bold and rapid +flights? + +Still the conquests he daily makes over his own feelings cannot but +surprise. His struggles are evident, but they are effectual. He even +resolutely casts off the strong prejudices he had conceived against +Frank Henley, invites him to aid us in our researches, and appeals to +him to explain and decide. + +'Let us if we wish to weed out error be sincere in our efforts, and +have no remorse for our prejudices.' + +This is his own language, Louisa! Oh that I could fully communicate the +pleasure this change of character gives me to my friend. Yes, the +restraint which too frequent contradiction lays him under will soon +wear off, and how great will then be the enthusiasm with which he will +defend and promulgate truth! + +Nor is it less delightful to observe the satisfaction which this reform +sometimes gives to Frank Henley. At others indeed he owns he is +disturbed by doubt: but he owns it with feelings of regret, and is +eager to prove himself unjust. + +Yet respecting me his thoughts never vary--Alas! Louisa, I still 'am +his by right.' His tongue is silent, but his looks and manner are +sufficiently audible. I surely have been guilty of the error I so much +dreaded; my cause was strong, but my arguments were feeble; I have +prolonged the warfare of the passions which I attempted to eradicate; +or rather have left on his mind a deep sense of injustice committed by +me--! The thought is intolerable!--Excruciating! + +But oh with what equanimity, with what fortitude does he endure his +imagined wrongs! Pure most pure must that passion be which at once +possesses the strength of his and his forbearance! There are indeed but +few Frank Henleys! + +Surely, Louisa, I may do him justice?--Surely to esteem the virtuous +cannot merit the imputation of guilt?--Who can praise him as he +deserves? And can that which is right in others be wrong in me?--Yet +such are the mistakes to which we are subject, I scarcely can speak or +even think of him without suspecting myself of committing some culpable +impropriety! + +Pardon, Louisa, these wanderings of the mind! They are marauders which +uniform vigilance alone can repel. They are ever in arms, and I obliged +to be ever alert. But it is petty warfare, and cannot shake the +dominion of truth. + +My feelings have led me from the topic I intended for the chief subject +of this letter. + +The course of our enquiries has several times forced us upon that great +question, 'the progress of mind toward perfection, and the different +order of things which must inevitably be the result.' Yesterday this +theme again occurred. Frank was present; and his imagination, warm with +the sublimity of his subject, drew a bold and splendid picture of the +felicity of that state of society when personal property no longer +shall exist, when the whole torrent of mind shall unite in enquiry +after the beautiful and the true, when it shall no longer be diverted +by those insignificant pursuits to which the absurd follies that +originate in our false wants give birth, when individual selfishness +shall be unknown, and when all shall labour for the good of all. + +A state so distant from present manners and opinions, and apparently so +impossible, naturally gave rise to objections; and your brother put +many shrewd and pertinent questions, which would have silenced a mind +less informed and less comprehensive than that of our instructor. + +At last a difficulty arose which to me wore a very serious form; and as +what was said left a strong impression on my memory, I will relate that +part of the conversation. Observe, Louisa, that Clifton and Frank were +the chief speakers. Your brother began. + +I confess, sir, you have removed many apparently unconquerable +difficulties: but I have a further objection which I think +unanswerable. + +What is it? + +Neither man nor woman in such a state can have any thing peculiar: the +whole must be for the use and benefit of the whole? + +As generally as practice will admit: and how very general that may be, +imperfect as its constitution was, Sparta remained during five hundred +years a proof. + +Then how will it be possible, when society shall be the general +possessor, for any man to say--_This is my servant?_ + +He cannot: there will be no servants. + +Well but--_This is my child?_ + +Neither can he do that: they will be the children of the state. + +Indeed!--And what say you to--_This is my wife?_--Can appropriation +more than for the minute the hour or the day exist? Or, among so +disinterested a people, can a man say even of the woman he loves--_She +is mine?_ + +[We paused--I own, Louisa, I found myself at a loss; but Frank soon +gave a very satisfactory reply.] + +You have started a question of infinite importance, which perhaps I am +not fully prepared to answer. I doubt whether in that better state of +human society, to which I look forward with such ardent aspiration, the +intercourse of the sexes will be altogether promiscuous and +unrestrained; or whether they will admit of something that may be +denominated marriage. The former may perhaps be the truth: but it is at +least certain that in the sense in which we understand marriage and the +affirmation--_This is my wife_--neither the institution nor the claim +can in such a state, or indeed in justice exist. Of all the regulations +which were ever suggested to the mistaken tyranny of selfishness, none +perhaps to this day have surpassed the despotism of those which +undertake to bind not only body to body but soul to soul, to all +futurity, in despite of every possible change which our vices and our +virtues might effect, or however numerous the secret corporal or mental +imperfections might prove which a more intimate acquaintance should +bring to light! + +Then you think that some stipulation or bargain between the sexes must +take place, in the most virtuous ages? + +In the most virtuous ages the word bargain, like the word promise, will +be unintelligible--We cannot bargain to do what is wrong, nor can we, +though there should be no bargain, forbear to do what is right, without +being unjust. + +Whence it results that marriage, as a civil institution, must ever be +an evil? + +Yes. It ought not to be a civil institution. It is the concern of the +individuals who consent to this mutual association, and they ought not +to be prevented from beginning, suspending, or terminating it as they +please. + +Clifton addressed himself to me--What say you to this doctrine, madam? +Does it not shock, does it not terrify you? + +As far as I have considered it, no. It appears to be founded on +incontrovertible principles; and I ought not to be shocked that some of +my prejudices are opposed, or at being reminded that men have not yet +attained the true means of correcting their own vices. + +Surely the consequences are alarming! The man who only studied the +gratification of his desires would have a new wife each new day; and +the unprotected fair would be abandoned to all the licentiousness of +libertinism! + +Frank again replied--Then you think the security of women would +increase with their imagined increase of danger; and that an +unprincipled man, who even at present if he be known is avoided and +despised, would then find a more ready welcome, because as you suppose +he would have more opportunities to injure? + +I must own that the men fit to be trusted with so much power are in my +opinion very few indeed. + +You are imagining a society as perverse and vitiated as the present: I +am supposing one wholly the contrary. I know too well that there are +men who, because unjust laws and customs worthy of barbarians have +condemned helpless women to infamy, for the loss of that which under +better regulations and in ages of more wisdom has been and will again +be guilt to keep, I know, sir, I say that the present world is infested +by men, who make it the business and the glory of their lives to bring +this infamy upon the very beings for whom they feign the deepest +affection!--If ever patience can forsake me it will be at the +recollection of these demons in the human form, who come tricked out in +all the smiles of love, the protestations of loyalty, and the arts of +hell, unrelentingly and causelessly to prey upon confiding innocence! +Nothing but the malverse selfishness of man could give being or +countenance to such a monster! Whatever is good, exquisite, or +precious, we are individually taught to grasp at, and if possible to +secure; but we have each a latent sense that this principle has +rendered us a society of detestable misers, and therefore to rob each +other seems almost like the sports of justice. + +For which reason, sir, were I a father, I think I should shudder to +hear you instructing my daughters in your doctrines. + +I perceive you wholly misconceive me; and I very seriously request, +pray observe, sir, I very seriously request you to remember that I +would not teach any man's daughters so mad a doctrine as to indulge in +sensual appetites, or foster a licentious imagination. I am not the +apostle of depravity. While men shall be mad, foolish, and dishonest +enough to be vain of bad principles, women may be allowed to seek such +protection as bad laws can afford--It is an eternal truth that the +wisdom of man is superior to the strength of lions; but I would not +therfore turn an infant into a lion's den. + +I am glad to be undeceived. I thought it was scarcely possible you +should mean what your words seemed to imply--At present I understand +you; and I again confess my surprise to find so much consistency, and +so many powerful arguments on a question in favour of which I thought +nothing rational could be advanced. You have afforded me food for +reflection, and I thank you. I shall not easily forget what has been +said. + +Tell me, my dear Louisa, are you not delighted with this dialogue; and +with the candour, the force of thinking, and what is still better the +virtuous fears of your brother? His mind revolted at the mischief which +it seemed to forbode he was happy at being undeceived. And, with +respect to argument, I doubt whether he forgot any one of the most +apparently formidable objections to what is called the levelling +system. But he was pleased to learn that this is only giving a good +cause a bad name. Such a system is infinitely more opposite to +levelling than the present; since the very essence of it is that merit +shall be the only claimant, and shall be certain of pre-eminence. + +The satisfaction I feel, my friend, is beyond expression. To have my +hopes revived and daily strengthened, after fearing they must all be +relinquished, increases the pleasure. It is great and would be unmixed +but for--Well, well!--Let Clifton but proceed and Frank will no longer +say--'To the end of time'--! You know the rest, Louisa--All good be +with you! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. I thought I had forgotten something. When Frank had retired, your +brother with delightful candour praised the great perspicuity as well +as strength with which he argued. He added there was one circumstance +in particular in his principles concerning marriage, although they had +at first appeared very alarming, which was highly satisfactory: and +this was the confidence they inspired. 'Nothing, he said, gave his +nature so much offence as the suspicions with which, at present, our +sex view the men. About two years ago he had a partiality for a +Neapolitan lady, and thought himself in love with her: but in this he +was mistaken; it was rather inclination than passion. He knew not at +that time what it was to love. Neither this Neapolitan lady, though +beautiful and highly accomplished, nor any other woman his feelings +told him could inspire pure affection, who was incapable of confiding +in herself; and, wanting this self-confidence, of confiding in her +lover. Suspicion originates in a consciousness of self defect. Those +who cannot trust themselves cannot be induced to trust others.' + +Thus justly, Louisa, did he continue to reason. Nor could I forbear to +apply the doctrine to myself: I have been too distrustful of him; my +conscience accused me, and I am resolved to remedy the fault. I have +always held suspicion to be the vice of mean and feeble minds: but it +is less difficult to find rules by theory than to demonstrate them by +practice. + +I am sorry, my dear Louisa, to hear that the infirmities of Mrs. +Clifton increase. But these are evils for which we can at present find +no remedy; and to which we must therefore submit with patience and +resignation. + + + + +LETTER LXXXIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +I will not suppose, Fairfax, you seek to compliment me, when you say +you enjoy the exuberant heat of soul, the fire that pervades my +epistles. I am glad you do. I shall not think the worse of your +talents. Many a line have I written in all the burst of feeling, and +not a few in all the blaze of wit, and have said to myself,--Should he +not understand me now?--Why if he should not, dulness everlasting be +his portion!--But you take the sure way to keep up my ardour. While I +perceive you continue to enjoy I shall continue to be communicative. A +sympathetic yawner I may be, but I do not believe I am often the first +to begin. + +I knew not half my own merits. I act my part to admiration. 'Tis true +the combining circumstances are all favourable. I must be a dunce +indeed if in such a school I should want chicanery. Our disputations +have been continual; nor have I ever failed to turn them on the most +convenient topics. But none of them have equalled the last; managed as +it was with dexterity by me, and in the very spirit I wished by my +opponents. I speak in the plural; for I took care to have them both +present. Several remarks which I had heard from him assured me he +would second my plan; which was no less than to prove marriage a +farce!--Would you have believed, Fairfax, I should have had the +temerity to step upon a rock so slippery; and to have requested +this Archimago of Adam's journeymen [Adam you know being the world's +head-gardener] to stay and lend me his support?--Yet thus audacious +was I; and courage as it ought has been crowned with success! + +The thought was suggested by themselves; and, had you or I or any of us +vile marriage haters been declaiming against the saffron god, and his +eternal shackles, I doubt whether the best of us could have said any +thing half so much to the purpose!--Is it not excellent?-- + +Then had you heard me preach, ay, me myself, against libertines and +libertinism! + +By the by, Don Cabbage-plant had the insolence to say two or three +devilish severe things, dishonourable to the noble fraternity of us +knights of the bed-chamber, which if I forget may woman never more have +cause to remember me! + +However I brought him to own,--I--[Do laugh!] by my very great +apprehensions of the effects of such a doctrine, that though marriage +be a bad thing it is quite necessary, at present, for the defence of +the weaker vessels and modest maidenhood. Ay and I applauded him for +his honest candour! I was glad I had misunderstood him! Thanked him for +all his profound information! In short made him exactly what I wished, +my tool! And a high-tempered tool he is, by the aid of which I will +shew myself a most notable workman!-- + +Not but the fellow's eye was upon me. I could observe him prying, +endeavouring to search and probe me. But I came too well prepared. +Instead of shrinking from the encounter, my brow contracted increasing +indignation; and my voice grew louder, as I stood forth the champion of +chaste virginity and sanctimonious wedlock!--The scene, in the very +critical sense of the phrase, was high comedy!-- + +It was well, Fairfax, they went no farther than Paris: had either of +them only reached Turin I had been half undone! And had they touched at +Naples, Rome, Venice, or half a dozen other fair and flourishing +cities, my character for a pretty behaved, demure, and virtuous +gentleman had been irremediably ruined! + +Upon my soul I cannot put it out of my head!--Had you heard me +remonstrate what a horrid thing it would be to have marriage destroyed, +and us honest fellows turned loose among the virgins, from whom we +should catch and ravish each a new damsel every new day, and had you +seen what a fine serious undertaker's face I put upon the business, +your heart would have chuckled! To the day of your death it would never +have been forgotten! + +Perhaps you will wonder how I could draw such a doctrine from these +spinners of hypothesis. I will tell you. I had heard them severally +maintain--Try to guess what!--Not in seven years, though you were to do +nothing else.--You I suppose like me have heard that liberty, security, +and property are the three main pillars of political happiness?--Well +then, these professors maintain that individual property is a general +evil!--What is more, they maintain it by such arguments as would puzzle +college, council, or senate to refute. But that I am determined never +to torment my brain about such quips and quillets, may I turn Turk if +they would not have made a convert of me, and have persuaded me that an +estate of ten thousand a year was a very intolerable thing! + +My intention was to keep my countenance, but to laugh at them in my +heart most incontinently. However, I soon found my side of the question +was not so perfectly beyond all doubt, nor theirs quite so ridiculous +as I had imagined. + +'Tis true, I went predetermined to be convinced, and to take all they +should tell me for gospel. I had a conclusion of my own to draw, and if +I could but lead to that, I cared not how much I granted. + +I know not whether this predisposition in me was of any advantage to +their argument, though I think it was not; for, so ready was the +solution to every difficulty, I boldly ventured to state objections +which I meant to have kept out of sight, lest I should myself overturn +a system that suited my purpose. I perceived their eagerness, saw there +was no danger that they should stop at trifles even if I should happen +to throw them a bone to pick, and the readiness of each reply raised my +curiosity. I fearlessly drew out my heavy artillery, which they with +ease and safety as fearlessly dismounted. With a breath my strong holds +were all puffed down, like so many houses of cards. + +By this however my main business was done more effectually. We came to +it by fair deduction. It was not abruptly introduced; it was major, +minor, and consequent--All individual property is an evil--Marriage +makes woman individual property--Therefore marriage is an evil--Could +there be better logic? + +As for his saving clause, that marriage in these times of prejudice and +vice [I have the whole cant by rote, Fairfax.] is a necessary evil, +leave me to do that away. What! Is she not a heroine? And can I not +convince her that to act according to a bad system, when there is a +better, were to descend to the ways of the vulgar? Can I not teach her +how superior she is to the pretty misses who conform to such mistaken +laws? Shall she want the courage and the generosity to set the first +good example? How often have I seen her eyes sparkle, her bosom heave, +and her zeal break forth in virtuous resolutions to encounter any peril +to obtain a worthy purpose! And can there be a more worthy? + +Curse upon these qualms of conscience! Never before did I feel any +thing so teazing, so tormenting! And, knowing what I know, remembering +what I never can forget, the slights, injuries, and insults I have +received, how I came to feel them now is to me wholly inconceivable. +She is acting it is true with what she calls the best and purest of +intentions toward me; she believes them to be such; she sometimes +almost obliges me to believe them such myself. She tortures me, by half +constraining me to revere the virtues in favour of which she harangues +so divinely. But shall I like a poor uxorious lackadaisy driveller sit +down satisfied with a divided heart?--I! she not with her own lips, +under her own hand, avowed and signed her contumelious guilt, her +audacious preference of a rival?--A mean, a base, a vulgar rival!--And +after this shall my projects suffer impediment from cheesecurd +compassion?--Shall the querulous voice of conscience arrest my avenging +arm?--No, Fairfax!--It cannot be! Though my heart in its anger could +not accuse her of a single crime beside, that alone, that damning +preference would be all-sufficient!--The furies have no stings that +equal this recollection! + +I have been throwing up my sashes, striding across my room, and +construing ten lines of Seneca, and my pulse again begins to beat more +temperately. + +Let us argue the point with this pert, unruly, marplot conscience of +mine. + +It was not at first without considerable reluctance and even pain that +I began to plot. I almost abhorred reducing her to the level of the +sex, not one of whom was ever yet her equal. But she used me ill, +Fairfax. Yes, she used me ill; and you well know that want of +resentment is want of courage. None but pitiful, contemptible, +no-souled fellows forget insults, till ample vengeance have been taken. +And shall conscience insolently pretend to contradict the decree? + +Beside I could not but remember our old maxims, the Cyprian battles our +jovial corps had fought, and the myrtle wreaths each wight had won. +Should I, the leader the captain of the band, be the first to fly my +colours? Was it not our favourite axiom that he who could declare, upon +his honour, he had found a generous woman, who never had attempted once +to deceive, trifle with, or play him trick, should still be +acknowledged a companion of our order, even though he were to marry: +but that all coquetry, all tergiversation, all wrongs, however slight, +were unpardonable, and only one way to be redressed? What answer can +conscience give to that? + +Your letters too are another stimulative. You detail the full, true and +particular account of your amorous malefactions, and vaunt of petty +obstacles, petty arts, and petty triumphs over Signoras and Madames who +advance, challenge you to the field, and give battle purposely to be +overcome. Their whole resistance is but to make you feel how great an +Alexander you are, and that having vanquished them you are invincible! +As you will certainly never meet with an Anna St. Ives, 'tis possible +you may die in that opinion. But, I tell you, Fairfax, if you compare +these practised Amazons to my heroine, you are in a most heterodox and +damnable error, of which if you do not timely repent your soul will +never find admission into the lover's Elysium. + +Bear witness, however, to my honesty; of women I allow her to be the +most excellent, but still a woman, and not as I foolishly for a while +supposed an absolute goddess. No, no. Madam can curvet and play her +pranks, though of totally a different kind; and, being almost mortal at +present, mere mortal must become in despite of conscience and its green +sickness physiognomy. + +At first I knew her not; and, unwilling to encounter logic in a gauze +cap, I ceased to oppose her arguments, and thought to conciliate her by +resolving to be of her creed. What could be more generous? But no, +forsooth! The veil was too thin! To pretend conviction when it was not +felt, and to be satisfied with arguments before I had heard them, were +all insufficient for her! The prize could be gained only by him who +could answer the enigmas of the Sphinx! I must enter the lists of +cavil, and run a tilt at wrangling, ere the lady would bestow the meed +of conquest! Can conscience pretend to palliate conduct like this? + +I then turned my thoughts to a new project, and endeavoured to +overpower her by passion, by excess of ardour, by tenderness and +importunity. They had a temporary effect, but I found them equally +inefficacious. Nor was the art by which I had oftenest been successful +forgotten; though I confess that with her, from the beginning, it +afforded me but little hope. I tried to familiarize her to freedoms. I +began with her hands; but she soon taught me that even her hands were +sacred; they were not to be treated with familiarity, nor to be kissed +and pressed like other hands! Let conscience if it can tell me why. + +In fine, while to this insolent pedagogue she has been all honeysuckle, +sweet marjoram and heart's ease, to me she has been rue, wormwood and +hellebore: him praising, me reproving: confiding in him, suspecting me: +and, as the very summit and crown of injury, proclaiming him the +possessor the master of her admiration, or in plain English of her +heart. + +And now, if after this impartial, this cool, this stoic examination Mr. +Conscience should ever again be impertinent enough to open his lips, I +am determined without the least ceremony to kick him out of doors. + +When this famous conference of which I told you some half an hour ago +was ended, and our president, our monarch of morals and mulberries had +quitted his chair and withdrawn, I played an aftergame of no small +moment. After pronouncing a panegyric on the gentleman, as a legislator +fit for truth and me, I read the lady a modest lecture on confidence, +informed her of almost the exact quantity which I expected she would +repose in me, and declaimed with eloquence and effect against those +suspicious beauties who always regard us honest fellows as so many +naughty goblins; who, like the Ethiopian monster, voraciously devour +every Virgin-Andromeda they meet. But as I tell you, I did it +modestly. I kept on my guard, watched the moment to press forward or to +retreat; and wielded my weapons with dexterity and success. + +Poor girl! Is it not a pity that the very shield in which she confides, +her perfect honesty and sincerity, should be destined to fall upon and +overwhelm her?--Thus says counsellor Sentiment: and counseller +Sentiment is a great orator!--But what say I? Why I say so have the +Fates decreed, and therefore let the Fates look to it; 'tis no concern +of mine; I am but their willing instrument. + +These however are but the preliminaries, the preparations for the +combat. Ere long I shall be armed at all points, and what is better by +her own fair hands. Nor do I know how soon I may begin the attack. I +have been casting about to send this superintendant of the cardinal +virtues, this captain of casuists and caterpillars out of the way; and +I think I have hit upon a tolerably bold and ingenious stratagem. I say +bold because I perceive it is not without danger; but I doubt I cannot +devise a better. Without naming or appearing to mean myself, I have +suggested to him, by inventing a tale of two friends of mine, what a +noble and disinterested thing it would be for him to go down into the +country and prevail on his father to remove all obstacles to our +marriage-- + +How! Say you. Is marriage your plan? And if not is not that the way to +ruin all? + +There is the danger I talked of; but I do not think it great. The +scoundrel gardener, I mean the father; who is heartily despised by +every body, is desirous that his son should marry Anna. I know not +whether I ever before mentioned this sublime effort of impudence. The +cunning rascal has so long been the keeper of Sir Arthur's purse, that +it is supposed two thirds of the contents have glided into his own +pocket. This is the reason of the delay on Sir Arthur's part, which at +present I do not wish to shorten. That this son of a grub catcher, a +Demosthenes though he be, should prevail on such a father, if he were +to go down as I hope he will, is but little probable. However, should +the least prognostic of such a miracle appear, I have my remedy +prepared. I will generously have a letter written to the senior +overseer of the gravel walks, which if the character I have heard of +him be not wholly false, shall revive all his hopes, and put an end to +compliance. + +In Italy, where amorous plotting is the national profession, I was not +easily circumvented; and here, where another gunpowder treason would as +soon be suspected as such gins and snares, at least by these very +honest and sublime simpletons, I laugh at the supposition of being +unearthed. + +One word more. I think I observe in this knight of Gotham, this Sir +Arthur, a more cordial kind of yearning toward our young prince of +Babel land than formerly; a sort of desire to be more intimate with +him, of which by the by the youth is not very prompt to admit, and an +effort to treat him with more respect himself, by way as it were of +setting a good example to others. If my conjectures are right, the +threats of the old muckworm father have shaken the crazy nerves of the +baronet; and I half suspect there is something more of meaning at the +bottom of this. Were it so, were he to attempt to discard me, it would +indeed add another spur to the fury of revenge! An affront so deep +given by this poor being, this essence of insignificance, would make +revenge itself, hot unsatiable revenge grow more hot, madden more, and +thirst even after blood!--Patience foams at the supposition! + +Thank heaven I hear the noisy postman with his warning bell, which +obliges me in good time to conclude and cool these fermenting juices of +mine! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXXIV + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +My mind, Oliver, is harassed by a variety of doubts. I believe I shall +soon be down at Wenbourne Hill, and of course shall then not fail to +meet thee and visit thy most worthy father. + +The reason of my journey originates in the doubts I mentioned. I am +angry with myself for feeling alarms at one moment which appear +impossibilities the next. If my fears have any foundation, this Clifton +is the deepest, the most hardened fiend-like hypocrite imagination can +paint!--But it cannot be!--Surely it cannot!--I am guilty, heinously +guilty for enduring such a thought!--So much folly and vice, combined +with understanding and I may say genius so uncommon, is a supposition +too extravagant, too injurious! + +And yet it is strange, Oliver!--A conduct so suddenly altered, so +totally opposite to old and inveterate habits, is scarcely +reconcileable to the human character. But if dissimulation can be +productive of this, is truth less powerful? No!--Truth is omnipotent. +Yet who ever saw it hasty in its progress? My only hope in this case is +that the superiority of his mind has rendered him an exception to +general rules. + +But what could he propose by his hypocrisy?--I cannot tell--His +passions are violent and ungovernable; and are or very lately have been +in full vigour--Again and again 'tis strange! + +But what of this?--Why these fears? Can she be spotted, tinged by the +stain of unsanctified desire?--Never!--The pure chastity of her soul is +superior to attaint!--Yet--Who can say?--Wilfully her mind can never +err: but who can affirm that even she may not be deceived, and may not +act erroneously from the most holy motives? + +Perhaps, Oliver, it is my own situation, my own desires, but half +subdued, in which these doubts take birth. If so they are highly +culpable. + +Be it as it may, there is a duty visibly chalked out for me by +circumstances. Her present situation is surely a state of danger. To +see them married would now give me delight. It would indeed be the +delight of despair, of gloom almost approaching horror. But of that I +must not think. My father is the cause of the present delay. I fear I +cannot remove this impediment, but it becomes me to try. + +Though I had before conceived the design, this conduct has even been +suggested to me by Clifton; and in a mode that proves he can be artful +if he please. Yet does it not likewise prove him to be in earnest? + +We have lately had several conversations, one in particular which, +even while it seemed to place him in an amiable, sincere, and generous +light, excited some of the very doubts and terrors of which I +speak--If he be a hypocrite, he guards himself with a tenfold +mask!--It cannot--No--It cannot be!-- + +I mean to speak to Sir Arthur concerning my journey, but not to inform +him of its purport: it would have the face of insult to tell him I was +going to be his advocate with his servant. Not to mention that he has +lately treated me with increasing and indeed unusual kindness. If I do +make an effort, however, it shall be a strenuous one; though my hopes +that it should be effectual are very few. My decision is not yet final, +but in my next thou wilt probably learn the result. Farewell. + +F. HENLEY + + +P.S. My brain is so busied by its fears that I forgot to caution thee +against a mistake into which it is probable this letter may lead. I +mentioned, in one of my last, the project I had conceived of leaving +England. Do not imagine I have abandoned a design on which the more I +reflect the more I am intent. The great end of life is to benefit +community. My mind in its present situation is too deeply affected +freely and without incumbrance to exert itself--This is weakness!--But +not the less true, Oliver. We are at present so imbued in prejudice, +have drunken so deeply of the cup of error, that, after having received +taints so numerous and ingrained, to wish for perfect consistency in +virtue I doubt were vain. Here or at the antipodes alike I should +remember her: but I should not alike be so often tempted and deluded by +false hopes: the current of thought would not so often meet with +impediments, to arrest, divide, and turn it aside. + +I have studied to divine in what land or among what people, whether +savage or such as we call polished, the energies of mind might be most +productive of good. But this is a discovery which I have yet to make. +The reasons are so numerous on each side that I have formed a plan for +a kind of double effort. I think of sailing for America, where I may +aid the struggles of liberty, may freely publish all which the efforts +of reason can teach me, and at the same time may form a society of +savages, who seem in consequence of their very ignorance to have a +less quantity of error, and therefore to be less liable to repel truth +than those whose information is more multifarious. A merchant, with +whom by accident I became acquainted, and who is a man of no mean +understanding, approves and has engaged to promote my plan. But of this +if I come to Wenbourne Hill we will talk further. Once more, Oliver, +adieu. + + + + +LETTER LXXXV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-street_ + +Come to my aid, Fairfax; encourage me; feed my vanity; let hungry +ambition banquet and allow me to be a hero, lest I relent: for, were I +not or Lucifer or Coke Clifton, 'tis certain I should not persevere. By +the host of heaven, Fairfax, but she is a divine creature! She steals +upon the soul! A heart of rock could not resist her! Nor are they +wiles, nor woman's lures, nor blandishments of tricksey dimples, nor +captivating smiles, with which she forms her adamantine fetters. No; +'tis the open soul of honesty; true, sincere, and unrelentingly just, +to me, to herself, to all; 'tis that enchanting kindness, that heavenly +suavity which never forsakes her; that equanimity of smiling yet +obstinate fortitude; that hilarity of heart that knows not gloom +because it knows not evil; that inscrutable purity which rests secure +that all like itself are natively immaculate; that--Pshaw!--I can find +no words, find you imagination therefore, and think not I will labour +at impossibility. You have read of ancient vestals, of the virgins +of Paradise, and of demi-deities that tune their golden harps on +high?--Read again--And, having travelled with prophets and apostles +to the heaven of heavens, descend and view her, and invent me language +to describe her, if you can! + +Curse on this Frank Henley! But for him my vengeance never would have +been roused! Never would the fatal sentence have passed my lips!--'Tis +now irrevocable--Sure as the lofty walls of Troy were doomed by gods +and destiny to smoke in ruins, so surely must the high-souled Anna +fall--'Ill starred wench!'--I, Fairfax, like other conquerors, cannot +shut pity from my bosom. While I cry havoc I could almost weep; could +look reluctant down on devastation which myself had made, and heave a +sigh, and curse my proper prowess!--In love and war alike, such, +Fairfax, is towering ambition. It must have victims: its reckless +altars ask a full and large supply; and when perchance a snowy lamb, +spotless and pure, bedecked for sacrifice, in all the artless pomp of +unsuspecting innocence is brought, bright burns the flame, the white +clouds curl and mantle up to heaven, and there ambition proudly sits, +and snuffs with glut of lusty delight the grateful odour. + +I know your tricks, Fairfax; you are one of the doubtful doctors; you +love to catch credulity upon your hook. I hear fat laughter gurgling in +your throat, and out bolts your threadbare simile--'Before the battle's +won the Brentford hero sings Te Deum.'--But don't be wasteful of the +little wit you have. Do I not tell you it is decreed? When was I posted +for a vapouring Hector? What but the recollections of my reiterated +ravings, resolves, threats, and imprecations could keep me steady; +assailed as I am by gentleness, benevolence, and saint-like charity? + +By the agency of subtlety, hypocrisy, and fraud, I seek to +rob her of what the world holds most precious. By candour, +philanthropy and a noble expansion of heart, she seeks to render +me all that is superlatively great and good--Why did she not seek +all this in a less offensive way? Why did she oblige me to become +a disputant with a plebeian?--Disputant!--What do I say?--Worse, +worse!--Rival!--Devil!--Myriads of virtues could not atone the +crime!--Yet in this deep guilt she perseveres and glories!--Can I +forget?--Fear me not, nor rank my defeat among things possible--Be +patient and lend an ear. + +To one sole object all my efforts point: her mind must be prepared, ay +so that when the question shall be put, chaste as that mind is, it +scarcely shall receive a shock. Such is the continual tendency of my +discourse. Her own open and undisguised manners are my guide. Not a +principle she maintains but which, by my cunning questions and affected +doubts pushed to an extreme, adds links to the chain in which I mean to +lead her captive. + +Perhaps, Fairfax, you will tell me this is the old artifice; and that +the minds of all women, who can be said to have any mind, must thus be +inveigled to think lightly of the thing they are about to lose. +Granted. And yet the difference is infinite. They are brought to think +thus lightly of chastity: but, should you or any one of the gallant +phalanx attempt to make Anna St. Ives so think, she would presently cry +buzz to the dull blockhead, and give him his eternal dismission. + +Virtue with her is a real existence, and as such must be adored. Her +passions are her slaves; and in this and this alone the lovely tyrant +is the advocate of despotism. She soon taught me that common arts would +be treated by her, not merely with determined and irrevocable repulse, +but with direct contempt. Some very feeble essays presently satisfied +me. No encroachments of the touch, no gloting of the eye, no well +feigned tremblings and lover's palpitations would for an instant be +suffered by her. Take the following as a specimen of my mode of attack. + +Among her variety of hypotheses she has one on mutability. 'Little, she +says, as we know of matter and spirit, we still know enough to perceive +they are both instantaneously, eternally, and infinitely changing. Of +what the world has been, through this series of never beginning never +ending mutation, she can form nothing more than conjecture: yet she +cannot but think that the golden age is a supposition treated at +present with ridicule it does not deserve. By the laws of necessity, +mind, unless counteracted by accidents beyond its control, is +continually progressive in improvement. With some such accidents we are +tolerably well acquainted. Such are those which have been destructive +of its progress, notwithstanding the high attainments it had made in +Greece and Rome. The ruins still existing in Egypt are wonderful proofs +of what it once was there; though Egypt is at present almost unequalled +in ignorance and depravity. Who then shall affirm changes still more +extraordinary have not happened? She has no doubt, some revolution in +the planetary system excepted, that men will attain a much higher +degree of innocence, length of life, happiness, and wisdom than have +ever yet been dreamed of, either by historian, fabulist, or poet: for +causes which formerly were equal to the effects then produced are now +rendered impotent by the glorious art of printing; which spreads, +preserves, and multiplies knowledge, in despite of ignorance, false +zeal, and despotism.' + +Such was her discourse, and thus vast were her views! Nay, urged on by +my questions, by the consequences which resulted from her own +doctrines, and by the ardour of emanating benevolence, she astonished +me by her sublime visions; for she proceeded to prove, from seemingly +fair deduction, 'that men should finally render themselves immortal; +should become scarcely liable to moral mistake; should all act from +principles previously demonstrated, and therefore never contend; should +be one great family without a ruler, because in no need of being ruled; +should be incapable of bodily pain or passion; and should expend their +whole powers in tracing moral and physical cause and effect; which, +being infinite in their series, will afford them infinite employment of +the most rational and delightful kind!' + +Oh! How did the sweet enthusiast glow, ay and make me glow too, while, +with a daring but consistent hand she sketched out this bold picture of +illusion! + +But, while the lovely zealot thus descanted on splendid and half +incomprehensible themes, what did I? Why, when I found her at the +proper pitch, when I saw benevolence and love of human kind beaming +with most ardour in her eye, and pouring raptures from her lip, I then +recalled her to her beloved golden age, her times of primitive +simplicity; made her inform me what lovers then were, and what +marriage; and what the bonds were which hearts so affectionate and +minds so honest and pure demanded of each other. + +What think you could her answers to all these questions be? What but +such as I wished? Could lovers like these suspect each other? Could +they basely do the wrong to ask for bond or pledge? Or, if they wanted +the virtue to charm, could they still more basely ask rewards they did +not merit? Could they, with the wretched selfish jealousy of a modern +marriage-maker, seek to cadaverate affection and to pervert each other +into a utensil, a commodity, a thing appropriate to self and liable +with other lumber to be cast aside? No, Fairfax; she played fairly and +deeply into my hand. She created exactly such a pair of lovers as I +could have desired: for with respect to the truth and constancy with +which she endowed them, if I cannot be the thing, I can wear the garb; +ay and it shall become me too, shall sit _degage_ upon me, and be +thought my native dress. + +Think not that I am a mere listener: far the reverse. I throw in +masterly touches, which, while they seem only to heighten her picture, +produce the full effect by me intended. Thus, when she described the +faith and truth and love of the innocents of her own creation, how did +I declaim against the abuse to which such doctrine, though immutably +true, was liable! + +'Alas! madam,' said I, 'had the unprincipled youths with which these +times abound your powers of argument with their own principles, how +dreadful would be the effect! How many unsuspecting hearts would they +betray!' + +I am once more just returned from the palace of Alcina! I broke off at +the end of my last paragraph to attend my charmer; and here again am I +detesting myself for want of resolution; and detesting myself still +more for having made a resolution, for having undertaken that which I +am so eternally tempted to renounce. Your sneer and your laugh are both +ready--I know you, Fairfax--'The gentleman is sounding a retreat! The +enterprise is too difficult!'--No--tell you no, no, no,--But I am +almost afraid it is too damnable! + +I pretended to be exceedingly anxious concerning the delay, and +afflicted at not hearing any thing more from Sir Arthur. If I did not +do this, it might be a clue to lead her to suspect hypocrisy, +considering how very ardent I was at the commencement. And, to say the +truth, I am weary enough of waiting; though it is not my wish to be +relieved by any expedition of Sir Arthur's, who, as I hinted to you +before, does not appear to be in the least hurry, and whose unction for +the gardener's son increases. + +But had you heard her console me! Had you seen her kindness! The tear +glistening in her eye while she entreated me to consider delay as a +fortunate event, which tended to permanent and ineffable happiness; had +you I say beheld her soul, for it was both visible and audible, Fairfax +though you are, the marauder of marriage land and the sworn foe of +virginity, even you would have pardoned my tergiversation. + +Did you never behold the sun burst forth from behind the riding clouds? +The scene that was gloomy, dark and dismal is suddenly illumined; what +was obscure becomes conspicuous; the bleak hills smile, the black +meadows assume a bright verdure; quaking shadows dare no longer stay, +cold damps are dispelled, and in an instant all is visible, clear, and +radiant! So vanish doubts when she begins to speak! Thus in her +presence do the feelings glow; and thus is gloom banished from the +soul, till all is genial warmth and harmony! + +These being my feelings now, when I am escaped, when I am beyond the +circle of her sorceries, think, Fairfax, be just and think how +seductive, how dangerous an enemy I have to encounter--Listen and +judge. + +'Oh! Clifton'--She speaks! Listen I say to her spells!--'Oh! Clifton, +daily and hourly do I bless this happy accident, this delay! I think, +with the heroic archbishop, I could have held my right hand firmly till +the flames had consumed it, could I but have brought to pass what this +blessed event has already almost accomplished! To behold your mind +what it is and to recollect what it so lately was is bliss unutterable! +I consider myself now as destined to be yours: but whether I am or am +not is perhaps a thing of little moment. Let self be forgotten, and all +its petty interests! What am I? What can I be, compared to what you may +become? The patriot, the legislator, the statesman, the reconciler of +nations, the dispenser of truth, and the instructor of the human race; +for to all these you are equal. As for me, however ardent however great +my good-will, I cannot have the same opportunities. Beside I must be +just to myself and you, and it delights me to declare I believe you +have a mind capable of conceptions more vast than mine, of plans more +daring and systems more deep, and of soaring beyond me. You have the +strong memory, the keen sensibility and the rapid imagination which +form the poet. It is my glory to repeat that your various powers, when +called forth, have as variously astonished me. To bid you persevere +were now to wrong you, for I think I dare affirm you cannot retreat. +You have at present seen too much, thought too much, known too much +ever to forget. In private you will be the honour of your family and +the delight of your wife; and in public the boast of your country and +the admiration of the virtuous and the wise.' + +I fell on my knee to the speaking deity! She seemed delivering oracles! +My passions rose, my heart was full, her eulogium made it loath and +abhor its own deceit; the words--'Madam, I am a villain!'--bolted to my +lips, there they quivering lingered in excruciating suspense, and at +last slunk back like cowards, half wishing but wholly ashamed to do +their office. + +By the immortal powers, Fairfax, it was past resisting! Why should I +not be all she has described? The hero, the legislator, the great +leader of this little world? Ay, why not? She seemed to prophesy. She +has raised a flame in me which, if encouraged, might fertilize or +desolate kingdoms. Body of Caesar, I know not what to say! + +'Tis true she has treated me ill; nay vilely. It cannot be denied. But +ill treatment itself, from her, is superior to all the maukish kindness +which folly and caprice endeavour to lavish. Fairfax, would you did but +behold her! My heart was never so assailed before! + +My resolution is shaken, I own, but it is not obliterated. No; I will +think again. My very soul is repugnant to the supposition of leaving +its envenomed tumours unassuaged, and its angered stabs unavenged. Yet, +if healed they could be, she surely possesses that healing art--Once +more I will think again. + +What you tell me in the Postscript to your last concerning Count Caduke +[Consult your dictionary; or to save yourself trouble read Count Crazy, +alias Beaunoir.] is wholly unintelligible to me. But as you say the +name of the gardener's son was several times mentioned by him, I shall +take an immediate opportunity of interrogating the 'squire of shrubs, +who I am certain from principle will when asked tell me all he knows. + +Apropos of poetry. The panegyric of this sylph of the sun-beams gave me +an impulse which I could not resist, and the following was the +offspring of my headlong and impetuous muse; for such the hussey is +whenever the fit is upon her. I commit it as it may happen to your +censure or applause; with this stipulation, if you do not like it +either alter it till you do, or write me another which both you and I +shall like better. If that be not fair and rational barter, I know +nothing either of trade, logic, or common sense. + + ANACREONTIC + + + I + + When by the gently gliding stream, + On banks where purple violets spring, + I see my Delia's beauties beam, + I hear my lovely Delia sing, + When hearts combine, + And arms entwine, + When fond caresses, am'rous kisses + Yield the height of human blisses, + Entranc'd I gaze, and sighing say, + Thus let me love my life away. + + + II + + Or when the jocund bowl we pass, + And joke and wit and whim abound, + When song and catch and friend and lass + In sparkling wine we toast around, + When Bull and Pun + Rude riot run, + And finding still the mirth increasing, + Pealing laughter roars sans ceasing, + I peal and roar and pant and say, + Thus let me laugh my life away. + + + III + + When dreams of fame my fancy fill, + Sweet soothing dreams of verse and rhyme, + That mark the poet's happy skill, + And bid him live to latest time, + Each rising thought + With music fraught, + All full, all flowing, nothing wanting, + All harmonious, all enchanting, + Oh thus, in rapt delights I say, + Thus let me sing my life away! + + + IV + + Oh lovely woman, gen'rous wine, + These potent pleasures let me quaff! + Thy raptures, wit, oh make them mine! + Oh let me drink and love and laugh! + In flowing verse + Let me rehearse + How well I've used your bounteous treasure; + Then at last when full my measure, + Tho' pale my lip, I'll smile and say, + I've liv'd the best of lives away. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXXVI + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Within a week, Oliver, we shall once more meet. What years of +separation may afterward follow is more than I can divine. I surely +need not tell thee that this thought of separation, were it not opposed +by principle, would indeed be painful, and that it is at moments almost +too mighty for principle itself. But we are the creatures of an +omnipotent necessity; and there can be but little need to remind thee +that a compliance with the apparently best should ever be an unrepining +and cheerful act of duty. + +I have had a conversation with Sir Arthur, very singular in its kind, +which has again awakened sensations in their full force that had +previously cost me many bitter struggles to allay. I began with +informing him of my intention to go down to Wenbourne-Hill; after which +I proceeded to tell him it was my design to embark for America. + +He seemed surprised, and said he hoped not. + +I answered I had reflected very fully on the plan, and that I believed +it was scarcely probable any reason should occur which could induce me +to change my purpose. + +The thing, he replied, might perhaps not be so entirely improbable as I +supposed. His family had great obligations to me. I had even risked my +life on various occasions for them. They thought my talents very +extraordinary. In fine, Oliver, the good old gentleman endeavoured to +say all the kind and, as he deemed them, grateful things his memory +could supply; and added that, should I leave England without affording +them some opportunity to repay their obligations, they should be much +grieved. There were perhaps two or three very great difficulties in the +way; but still he was not sure they might not be overcome. Not that he +could say any thing positively, for matters were he must own in a very +doubtful state. He was himself indeed very considerably uneasy, and +undetermined: but he certainly wished me exceedingly well, and so with +equal certainty at present did all his family. His daughter, his son, +himself, were all my debtors. + +The good old gentleman's heart overflowed, Oliver, and by its +ebullitions raised a tumult in mine, which required every energy it +possessed to repel. What could I answer, but that I had done no more +for his family than what it was my duty to do for the greatest +stranger; and that, if gratitude be understood to mean a remembrance of +favours received, I and my family had for years indubitably been the +receivers? + +He still persisted however in endeavouring to dissuade me from the +thought of quitting the kingdom. Not finding me convinced by his +arguments, he hesitated, with an evident desire to say something which +he knew not very well how to begin. All minds on such occasions are +under strong impulses. My own wish that he should be explicit was +eager, and I excited him to proceed. At last he asked if he might put a +question to me; assuring me it was far from his intention to offend, +but that he had some uneasy doubts which he could be very glad to have +removed. + +I desired him to interrogate me freely; and to assure himself that I +would be guilty of no dissimulation. + +He knew my sincerity, he said; but if when I heard I should think any +thing in what he asked improper, I past dispute had a right to refuse. + +I answered that I suspected or rather was convinced I had no such +right, and requested him to begin. + +He again stammered, and at last said--I think, Mr. Henley, I have +remarked some degree of esteem between you and my daughter-- + +He stopped--His desire not to wound my feelings was so evident that I +determined to relieve him, and replied-- + +I believe, sir, I can now divine the subject of your question. You +would be glad to know if any thing have passed between us, and what? +Perhaps you ought to have been told without asking; but I am certain +that concealment at present would be highly wrong. + +I then repeated as accurately as my memory would permit, which is +tolerably tenacious on this subject, all which Anna and I had +reciprocally said and done. It was impossible, Oliver, to make this +recapitulation with apathy. My feelings were awakened, and I assure +thee the emotions of Sir Arthur were as lively as in such a mind thou +couldst well suppose. The human heart seems to be meliorated and +softened by age. He wept, a thing with him certainly not usual, at the +recital of his daughter's heroic resolves in favour of duty, and at her +respect for parental prejudices. Her dread of rendering him unhappy +made him even sob, and burst into frequent interjections of--'She is a +dear girl! She is a heavenly girl! I always loved her! She is the +delight of my life, my soul's treasure! From her infancy to this hour, +she was always an angel!' + +After hearing me fully confirm him in his esteem and affection for so +superlative a daughter, he added--You tell me, Mr. Henley, that you +freely informed my daughter you thought it was even her duty to prefer +you to all mankind, even though her father and friends should +disapprove the match. + +I did, sir. I spoke from conviction, and should have thought myself +culpable had I been silent. + +Perhaps so. But that is very uncommon doctrine. + +It was not merely that more felicity would have been secured to +ourselves, but greater good I supposed would result to society. + +I have heard you explain things of that kind before. I do not very well +understand them, but give me leave to ask--Are you still of the same +opinion? + +I am, sir.--Not that I am so confident as I was--Mr. Clifton has a very +astonishing strength of mind: and, should it be turned to the worthy +purposes of which it is capable, I dare by no means decide positively +in my own favour: and the decision which I now make against him is the +result of the intimate acquaintance which I must necessarily have with +my own heart, added to certain dubious appearances as to his which I +know not how to reconcile. Of myself I am secure. + +And of him you have some doubts? + +I have: but I ought in duty to add the appearances of their being +unjust are daily strengthened. + +Sir Arthur paused, ruminated, and again seemed embarrassed. At last he +owned he knew not what to say: turn which way he would the obstacles +were very considerable. His mind had really felt more distress, within +these two months, than it had ever known before. He could resolve on +nothing. Yet he could not but wish I had not been quite so determined +on going to America. There was no saying what course things might take. +Mrs. Clifton was very ill, and in all probability could not live long. +But again he knew not what to say. He certainly wished me very +well--Very well--I was an uncommon young man. I was a gentleman by +nature, which for aught he knew might be better than a gentleman by +birth. The world had its opinions; perhaps they were just, perhaps +unjust. He had been used to think with the world, but he had heard so +much lately that he was not quite so positive as he had been--[This, +Oliver, reminded me of the power of truth; how it saps the strong holds +of error and winds into the heart, and how incessantly its advocates +ought to propagate it on every occasion.] He was not quite so well +pleased as he had been with my father, but that was no fault of mine; +he knew I had a very different manner of thinking. Still he must say it +was what he very little expected. He hoped however that things would +one way or other go more smoothly; and he concluded with taking my +hand, pressing it very warmly, and adding with considerable +earnestness--'If you can think of changing your American project, pray +do!--Pray do!--' + +After which he left me with something like a heavy heart. + +And now, Oliver, how ought I to act? The opposing causes of these +doubts and difficulties in his mind are evident. The circumstances +which have occurred in my favour, being aided by the obstinate +selfishness of my father, by his acquired wealth, and as I suppose by +the embroiled state of Sir Arthur's affairs, have produced an unhoped +for revolution in the sentiments of Sir Arthur. But is it not too late? +Are not even the most tragical consequences to be feared from an +opposition to Clifton? Nay, if his mind be what his words and behaviour +speak, would not opposition be unjust? Were it not better with severe +but virtuous resolution to repel these flattering and probably +deceitful hopes, than by encouraging them to feed the canker-worm of +peace, and add new force to the enemy within, who rather stunned than +conquered is every moment ready to revive. + +Neither is Sir Arthur master of events. Nor is his mind consistent +enough to be in no danger of change. + +My heart is sufficiently prone to indulge opposite sentiments, but it +must be silenced; it must listen to the voice of truth. + +Did I but better understand this Clifton, I should better know how to +decide. That he looks up to her with admiration I am convinced. She +seems to have discovered the true key to his understanding as well as +to his affections. Even within this day or two, I have observed +symptoms very much in his favour. How do I know but thus influenced he +may become the first of mankind? The thought restores me to a sense of +right. Never, Oliver, shall self complacency make me guilty of what +cannot but be a crime most heinous! If such a mind may by these means +be gained which would otherwise be lost, shall it be extinguished by +me? Would not an assassination like this outweigh thousands of common +murders? Well may I shudder at such an act! Oliver, I am resolved. If +there be power in words or in reason my father shall comply. + +As far as I understand the human mind, there is and even should he +persevere there always must be something to me enigmatical in this +instance of its efforts in Clifton. Persevere however I most sincerely +hope and even believe he will.--But should he not?--The supposition is +dreadful!--Anna St. Ives!--My heart sinks within me!--Can virtue like +hers be vulnerable?--Surely not!--The more pure a woman is in principle +the more secure would she be from common seducers. But, if the man can +be found who possesses the necessary though apparently incompatible +excess of folly and wisdom, there is a mode by which such a woman is +more open to the arts of deceit than any other. And is not that woman +Anna St. Ives? Nay more, if he be not a prodigy of even a still more +extraordinary kind, is not that man Coke Clifton? + +He came in the heyday of youthful pride, self-satisfied, +self-convinced, rooted in prejudice but abundant in ideas. Argument +made no impression; for where he ought to have listened he laughed. +The weapons of wit never failed him; and, while he launched them at +others, they recoiled and continually lacerated himself. Of this he +was insensible: he felt them not, or felt them but little. His +haughtiness never slumbered; and to oppose him was to irritate, not +convince. For four months he continued pertinaciously the same; then, +without any cause known to me, suddenly changed. It was indeed too +sudden not to be alarming! + +And yet my firm and cool answer to all this is that hypocrisy so +foolish as well as atrocious is all but impossible-- + +Indeed, Oliver, I do not seek to wrong him: I do not hunt after +unfavourable conjectures, they force themselves upon me: or if I do it +is unconsciously. The passions are strangely perverse: and if I am +deceived, as I hope I am, it is they that misguide me. + +Clifton has just been with me. Some correspondent from Paris has +mentioned the visit paid to me instead of him by the Count de Beaunoir, +but in a dark and unintelligible manner, and he came to enquire. I +confess, Oliver, while I was answering his interrogatories, I seemed to +feel that both you and I had drawn a false conclusion relative to +secrecy; and that by concealment to render myself the subject of +suspicion was an unworthy procedure. However as my motives were not +indirect, whatever my silence might be, I answered without reserve and +told him all that had passed; frankly owning my fears of his +irritability as the reason why I did not mention the affair +immediately. + +He laughted at the Count's rhodomontade, acknowledged himself obliged +to me, and allowed that at that time my fears were not wholly +causeless. He behaved with ease and good humour, and left me without +appearing to have taken any offence. I shall be with thee on Tuesday. +I know it will be a day of feasting to the family, and I will do my +best endeavour not to cast a damp on the hilarity of benevolence and +friendship. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER LXXXVII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Alas! Louisa, what are we?--What are our affections, what our resolves? +Taken at unguarded moments, agitated, hurried away by passion, how +seldom have we for a day together reason to be satisfied with our +conduct? + +Not pleased with myself, I doubt I have given cause of displeasure +to your brother. My father was in part the occasion: for a moment he +made me forget myself--Louisa!--Frank Henley is going to America! +He does not lightly resolve, and his resolution seems fixed!--Good +God!--I--Louisa!--I am afraid I am a guilty creature!--Weak!--Very +weak!--And is not weakness guilt?--But why should he leave us?--Where +will he find hearts more alive to his worth? + +Sir Arthur came to inform me of it: he had been conversing with him, +and had endeavoured but without effect to dissuade him from his +purpose. He came and begged me to try. I perhaps might be more +successful. + +There was a marked significance in his manner, and I asked him why? + +Nay, my dear child, said he, and his heart seemed full, you know why. +Mr. Henley has told me why. + +What, sir, has he told? Nothing, child--[Sir Arthur took my +hand]--Nothing, but what is honourable to you--I questioned him, +and you know he is never guilty of falsehood. + +No, sir; he is incapable of it. + +Well, Anna, try then to persuade him not to leave us. Though he is a +very excellent young man, I am afraid he has not the best of fathers. I +begin to feel I have not been so prudent as I might have been; and, if +Mr. Henley were to leave England, the father might attribute it to us, +and--[Sir Arthur hesitated]--I have received some extraordinary letters +from Abimelech, of which I did not at first see the full drift; but it +is now clear; every thing corresponds, and my conversation with young +Mr. Henley has confirmed all I had supposed. However he is a very good +a very extraordinary young gentleman, and I could wish he would not go. +I don't know what may happen. + +Your brother came in and Sir Arthur left me, desiring me as he went to +remember what he had said. Clifton after an apology asked--Does it +relate to me? At that moment Frank entered. No, said I; it relates to +one who I did not think would have been so ready to forsake his +friends! + +A thousand thoughts had crowded to my mind; a dread of having used him +ungenerously, unjustly; a recollection of all he had done and all he +had suffered; his enquiring, penetrating, and unbounded genius; his +superlative virtues; a horror of his being banished his native country +by me; of his wandering among strangers, exposed to poverty, perils, +and death, with the conviction in his heart that I had done him +wrong!--My tumultuous feelings rushed upon me, overpowered me, and in a +moment of enthusiasm I ran to him, snatched his hand, fell on my knee +and exclaimed--'For the love of God, Mr. Henley, do not think of +leaving us!' + +Clifton like myself could not conquer the first assault of passion: he +pronounced the word madam! in a tone mingled with surprise and severe +energy, which recalled me to myself-- + +You see, said I, turning to him, what an unworthy weak creature I +am!--But Mr. Henley has taken the strangest resolution--! + +What, madam, said your brother, recovering himself, and with some +pleasantry, is he for a voyage to the moon? Or does he wait the arrival +of the next comet, to make the tour of the universe? + +Nay, answered I, you must join me, and not treat my poor petition with +ridicule--You must not go, Mr. Henley; indeed you must not! I, Mr. +Clifton, my father, my brother, we will none of us hear of it! We are +all your debtors, and it would be unjust in you to deprive us of every +opportunity of testifying our friendship. + +Your brother, Louisa, made an effort worthy of himself, repressed the +error of his first feelings, assumed the gentle aspect of entreaty, and +kindly joined me. + +We are indeed your debtors, said he to Mr. Henley. But I hope it is not +true. I hope there is no danger that you should forsake us. Where would +you go? Where can you be so happy? I mean first, replied Frank, to go +to Wenbourne Hill; and after that my intentions are for America. + +This, Louisa, brought on a long discussion. I and your brother both +endeavoured to convince him it was his duty to remain in England; that +he could be more serviceable here, and would find better opportunities +for effecting that good which he had so warmly at heart than in any +other country. + +He answered that, though he was not convinced by our arguments, he +should think it his duty seriously to consider them. But we could not +make him promise any thing further. Previous to his return from +Wenbourne Hill he would determine. + +Indeed, Louisa, this affair lies very heavily upon my mind. I am +incessantly accusing myself as the cause of his exile. And am I not? By +the manner of Sir Arthur I am sure he must have said something very +highly in my praise. I have gone too far with your brother to recede: +that is now impossible. It would be more flagrant injustice than even +the wrong to Frank, if a wrong it be, and indeed, Louisa, I dread it +is!--Indeed I do!--I dread it even with a kind of horror! + +I thought reason would have appeased these doubts ere this; but every +occasion I find calls them forth with unabated vigour. Surely this +mental blindness must be the result of neglect. Had we but the will, +the determination, it might be removed. Oh how reprehensible is my +inconsistency! + +The rapid decline of Mrs. Clifton grieves me deeply. Your brother too +has frequently mentioned it with feelings honourable to his heart. He +is now more than ever sensible of her worth. He has been with me since +I began to write this letter, and there is not the least appearance of +remaining umbrage on his mind. It was indeed but of short duration, +though too strong and sudden not to be apparent. + +All kindness, peace, and felicity be with you. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER LXXXVIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +I will curse no more, Fairfax. Or, if curse I do, it shall be at my own +fatuity. I will not be the dilatory, languid, ranting, moralizing +Hamlet of the drama; that has the vengeance of hell upon his lips and +the charity of heaven in his heart. I will use not speak daggers-- + +Fairfax, I am mad!--Raging!--The smothered and pent-up mania must +have vent--What! Was not the page sufficiently black before?--I am +amazed at my own infatuation! My very soul spurns at it!--But 'tis +past--Deceitful, damned sex!--Idiot that I was, I began to fancy myself +beloved!--I!--Blind, deaf, insensate driveler!--Torpid, blockish, +brainless mammet!--Most sublime ass!--Oh for a bib and barley sugar, +with the label _Meacock_ pinned before and behind!-- + +Fairfax, I never can forgive my own absurd and despicable +stupidity!--Marriage?--What, with a woman in whose eye the perfect +impression and hated form of a mean rival is depicted?--In colours +glowing hot!--Who lives, revels, triumphs in her heart!--I marry +such a woman?--I?-- + + 'I had rather be a toad, + And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, + Than keep a corner in the thing I love + For other's use.' + +I am too full of phrensy, Fairfax, to tell thee what I mean: but she +has given me another proof, more damning even than all the former, of +the gluttony with which her soul gorges. Her gloating eye devours him; +ay, I being present. Nay, were I this moment in her arms, her arms +would be clasping him, not me: with him she would carouse, nor would +any thing like me exist--Contagion!--Poison and boiling oil!-- + +Never before was patience so put to the proof--My danger was extreme. +With rage flaming in my heart, I was obliged to wear complacency, +satisfaction and smiles on my countenance. + +The fellow has determined to ship himself for America--Would it were +for the bottomless pit!--And had you beheld her panic?--St. Luke's +collected maniacs at the full of the moon could not have equalled +her!--'Twas well indeed her frantic outrage was so violent, or I had +been detected and all had been lost--As it was I half betrayed +myself--the fellow's eye glanced at me. However it gave me my cue; and, +all things considered, I afterward performed to a miracle. Her own +enthusiastic torrent swept all before it, and gave me time. She was in +an ecstasy; reasoning, supplicating, conjuring, panting. I, her +friends, the whole world must join her: and join her I did. It was the +very relief of which hypocrisy stood in need. I entreated this +straight-backed youth, stiff in determination, to condescend to lend a +pitying ear to our petitions; to suffer us to permeate his bowels of +compassion, and avert this fatal and impending cloud, fraught with +evils, misery, and mischief-- + +But marry no!--It could not be!--Sentence was passed--He had been at +the trouble to make a pair of scales, and knew the weight to a scruple +of every link in the whole chain of cause and effect--Teach him, +truly!--Advise him!--Move him!--When? Who? How?--At last compliance, +willing to be royally gracious, said, Well it would consider--Though +there was but little hope--Nothing it had heard had any cogency of +perscrutation--But, in fine, it would be clement, and consider. + +Do you not see this fellow, Fairfax? Is he not now before your eyes? Is +he not the most consummate--? But why do I trouble myself a moment +about him?--It is her!--Her!-- + +Nor is this all. Did that devil that most delights in mischief direct +every concurring circumstance, they could not all and each be more +uniform, more coercive to the one great end. This poor dotterel, Sir +Arthur, is playing fast and loose with me. He has been at his +soundings--He!--Imbecile animal!--Could wish there were not so many +difficulties--Is afraid they cannot be all removed--Has his doubts and +his fears--Twenty thousand pounds is a large sum, and Mrs. Clifton is +very positive--His own affairs much less promising than he +supposed--Then by a declension of hems, hums, and has, he descended +to young Mr. Henley--A very extraordinary young gentleman!--A very +surprising youth!--One made on purpose as it were for plum-cake days, +high festivals, and raree show!--A prodigy!--Not begotten, born or bred +in the dull blind-man's-buff way of simple procreation; but sent us on +a Sunday morning down Jacob's ladder!--Then for obligations to him, +count them who could!--He must first study more arithmetic!--And as +for affection it was a very wayward thing--Not always in people's +power--There was no knowing what was best--The hand might be given and +the heart be wanting--And with respect to whether the opinions of the +world ought to be regarded, good truth he knew not. Marry! The world +was much more ready to blame others than to amend itself: and he had +been almost lately persuaded not to care a fico for the world. But for +his part he was a godly Christian, and wished all for the best. He had +faith, hope, and charity, which were enough for one. + +Do not imagine, Fairfax, the poor dotard would have dared to betray +himself thus far, had not I presently perceived his drift and wormed +him of these dismal cogitations of the spirit. He beat about, and +hovered, and fluttered, and chirped mournfully, like the poor +infatuated bird that beholds the serpent's mouth open, into which it is +immediately to drop and be devoured. However, having begun, I was +determined to make him unburden his whole heart. If hereafter he can +possibly find courage to face me, in order to reproach, I have my +lesson ready. 'Out of thy own mouth will I judge thee, sinner.' + +Gangrened as my heart is, I still find a satisfaction in this self +convalescence. The lady of mellifluous speech shall suborn no more; no +more shall lull me into beatific slumbers. I have recovered from my +trance, and what I dreamed was celestial I will demonstrate to be mere +woman. + +From his own lips I learn that this insolent scoundrel received a visit +from the Count de Beaunoir, which was intended for me: and, out of +tender pity to my body, lest, God 'ild us, it should get a drilling, he +did bestow some trifle of that wit and reason of which he has so great +a superflux upon the Count, thereby to turn aside his wrathful ire. + +I heard the gentleman tell his tale, and tickle his imagination with +the remembrance of his own doctiloquy, with infinite composure; and, +whenever I put a question, took care first to prepare a smile. Every +thing was well, better could not be. + +With respect to _Monsieur le Comte_, I'll take some opportunity to +whisper a word in his ear. It is not impossible, Fairfax, but that I +may visit Paris even within this fortnight. Not that I can pretend to +predict. They shall not think I fly them, should any soul among them +dare to dream of vengeance. I know the Count to be as vain of his +skill in the sword as he is of his pair of watch strings, his +Paris-Birmingham snuff-box, or the bauble that glitters on his finger. +I think I can give him a lesson: at least I mean to try. + +My mother's health declines apace. I know not whether it may not +shortly be necessary for me to visit her. The loss of her will afflict +me, but in all appearance it is inevitable, and I fear not far distant. + +Once more, Fairfax, should you again fall in company with the Count, +and he should give himself the most trifling airs, assure him that I +will do myself the honour to embrace him within a month at farthest +from that date, be it when it will. + +Adieu. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER LXXXIX + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +He is gone, Louisa; has left us; his purpose unchanged, his heart +oppressed, and his mind intent on promoting the happiness of those by +whom he is exiled. And what am I, or who, that I should do him this +violence? What validity have these arguments of rank, relationship, and +the world's opprobrium? Are they just? He refuted them: so he thought, +and so _persists_ to think. And who was ever less partial, or more +severe to himself? + +Louisa, my mind is greatly disturbed. His high virtues, the exertion of +them for the peculiar protection of me and my family, and the dread of +committing an act of unpardonable injustice, if unjust it be, are +images that haunt and tantalize me incessantly. + +If my conclusions have been false, and if his asserted claims be true, +how shall I answer those which I have brought upon myself? The claims +of your brother, which he urges without remission, are still stronger. +They have been countenanced, admitted, and encouraged. I cannot recede. +What can I do but hope, ardently hope, Frank Henley is in an error, and +that he himself may make the discovery? Yet how long and fruitless have +these hopes been! My dilemma is extreme; for, if I have been mistaken, +act how I will, extreme must be the wrong I commit! + +Little did I imagine a moment so full of bitter doubt and distrust as +this could come. Were I but satisfied of the rectitude of my decision, +there are no sensations which I could not stifle, no affections which I +could not calm, nor any wandering wishes but what I could reprove to +silence. But the dread of a flagrant, an odious injustice distracts me, +and I know not where or of whom to seek consolation. Even my Louisa, +the warm friend of my heart, cannot determine in my favour. + +Your brother has been with me. He found me in tears, enquired the +cause, and truth demanded a full and unequivocal confidence. I shewed +him what I had been writing. You may well imagine, Louisa, he did not +read it with total apathy. But he suppressed his own feelings with +endeavours to give relief to mine. He argued to shew me my motives had +been highly virtuous. He would not say--[His candour delighted me, +Louisa.]--He would not say there was no ground for my fears: he was +interested and might be partial. He believed indeed I had acted in +strict conformity to the purest principles; but, had I even been +mistaken, the origin of my mistake was so dignified as totally to +deprive the act of all possible turpitude. + +He was soothing and kind, gave high encomiums to Frank, took blame to +himself for the error of his former opinions, and, reminding me of the +motives which first induced me to think of him, tenderly asked if I had +any new or recent cause to be weary of my task. + +What could I answer? What, but that I was delighted with the rapid +change perceptible in his sentiments, and with the ardour with which +his enquiries were continued? + +Frank Henley is by this time at Wenbourne Hill. You will see him. Plead +our cause, Louisa: urge him to remain among us. Condescend even to +enforce my selfish motive, that he would not leave me under the +torturing supposition of having banished him from a country which he +was born to enlighten, reform, and bless! + +There is indeed another argument; but I know not whether it ought to be +mentioned. Sir Arthur owns he is in the power of the avaricious +Abimelech, and I believe is in dread of foreclosures that might even +eject him from Wenbourne Hill. This man must have been an early and a +deep adventurer in the trade of usury, or he never could have gained +wealth so great as he appears to have amassed. + +Past incidents, with all of which you are acquainted, have given Sir +Arthur a high opinion of Frank: and this added to his own fears, I am +persuaded, would lead him to consider a union between us at present +with complacency, were not such an inclination opposed by other +circumstances. The open encouragement that he himself has given to +Clifton is one, and it is strengthened by all the interest of the other +branches of our family. Your brother is highly in favour with Lord Fitz +Allen. My aunt Wenbourne equally approves the match, and Clifton and my +brother Edward are become intimate. As to me, reason, consistency, and +my own forward conduct, oblige me to be the enemy of Frank. + +Louisa, I scarcely know what I write! Think not I have abandoned myself +to the capricious gusts of passion; or that my love of uncontaminated +and rigorous virtue is lessened. No, it is indecision, it is an +abhorrence of injustice which shake and disquiet me. + +Write to me; let me know your sentiments; and particularly how far your +application to Frank, when you have made it, is successful. I am +anxious to receive your letter, for I know it will inspire fortitude, +of which I am in great, great need. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XC + +_Louisa Clifton to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +Oh my dearest and ever dear Anna, what shall I say, how shall I assuage +doubts that take birth in principles so pure and a heart so void of +guile? I know not. I have before acknowledged the mist is too thick for +me to penetrate. + +The worthy the noble-minded Frank has been with us, and I could devise +no better way than to shew him your letter. He was greatly moved, and +collecting all the firmness of his soul resolutely declared that, since +your peace was so deeply concerned, be his own sensations what they +might, he would conquer them and remain in England. The heart-felt +applause he bestowed upon you was almost insupportably affecting. He +has indeed a deep sense of your uncommon worth; and he alone I fear on +earth is capable of doing it justice. + +But things have taken a different turn; and what can the best of us do, +when involved as we continually are in doubt and difficulty, but act as +you do, with impartial self denial, and the most rigid regard to truth +and virtue? + +Alas, dear Anna, I too am in need of support, and in search of +fortitude!--My mother!--She will not be long among us!--A heart more +benevolent, a mind more exalted--! She calls!--I hear her feeble +voice!--Not even my Anna must rob her of my company, for those few +remaining moments she has yet to come. I am her last consolation. + +L. CLIFTON + + +I expect you will this post receive a letter from Frank, that will +speak more effectually to your heart than I have either the time to do +or the power. + + + + +LETTER XCI + +_Frank Henley to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +Madam, + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Your generous and zealous friend has thought proper to shew me your +letter. I will not attempt to describe the sensations it excited; but, +as your peace of mind is precious to me, and more precious still +perhaps to the interests of society, and since my departure would +occasion alarms and doubts so strong, I am determined to stay. My +motives for going I thought too forcible and well founded to be +overpowered; nor could they perhaps have been vanquished by any less +cause. If one of us must suffer the warfare of contending sentiments +and principles, let it be me. It was to fly from and if possible forget +or subdue them that I projected such a voyage. Our duties to society +must not cede to any effeminate compassion for ourselves. We are both +enough acquainted with those duties to render us more than commonly +culpable, should we be guilty of neglect. + +To describe my weakness, and the contention to which my passions have +been lately subject, might tend to awaken emotions in you which ought +to be estranged from your mind. Our lot is cast: let us seek support in +those principles which first taught us reciprocal esteem, nor palliate +our desertion of them by that self pity which would become our +reproach. We have dared to make high claims, form high enterprises, and +assert high truths; let us shew ourselves worthy of the pretensions we +have made, and not by our proper weakness betray the cause of which we +are enamoured. + +You will not--no, you are too just--I am sure, madam, you will not +attribute resolutions like these, which are more (infinitely more) +painful to the heart than they ought to be, to any light or unworthy +change of sentiment. Superior gifts, superior attainments, and superior +virtues inevitably beget admiration, in those who discover them, for +their possessors. Admiration is the parent of esteem, and the +continuance and increase of this esteem is affection, or, in its purest +and best sense, love. To say I would not esteem and would not love +virtue, and especially high and unusual virtue, would be both folly and +guilt. + +But you have taught me how pure and self-denying this love may be. Oh +that the man of your choice may but become all you hope, and all of +which his uncommon powers are capable! Oh that I may but see you as +happy as you deserve to be, and I think I shall then not bestow much +pity upon myself. + +I have forborne, madam, to intrude the petty disquiets of another kind, +from which as you will readily imagine I cannot have been wholly free. +Need I say how much I disapprove my father's views, and the mode by +which he would have them accomplished? There is no effort I will not +make to conquer and remove this obstacle. It wounds me to the heart +that you, the daughter of his benefactor, should for a moment be +dependant on his avarice. The injury and iniquity are equally +revolting, and there are moments when my prejudices falsely accuse me +of being a participator in the guilt. + +I have had two conversations with my father: they both were animated; +but, though he was very determined, his resolution begins to fail; and, +as I have justice on my side and am still more determined than he, I +have no doubt that in a few days every thing which Sir Arthur has +required of him he will be willing to undertake. + +However as in a certain sense all is doubtful which is yet to be done, +perhaps strict prudence would demand that Sir Arthur should not be led +to hope till success is ascertained; of which I will not delay a moment +to send you information. + +I am, &c. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XCII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +The moment, Fairfax, the trying, the great, the glorious moment +approaches. Every possible contributing cause calls aloud for +expedition, and reprobates delay. This gardening fellow is gone. For +his absence I thank him, but not for the resolute spirit with which he +intends to attack his father and make him yield. He has a tongue that +would silence the congregated clamours of the Sorbonne, and dumb-found +Belial himself in the hall of Pandemonium. 'Tis certain he has a tough +morsel to encounter, and yet I fear he will succeed. + +This would destroy all--Marry her?--No!--By heaven, no! If the hopes of +Abimelech be not stubborn enough to persevere, they must and shall be +strengthened. His refusal is indispensably necessary in every view, +unless the view of marriage, which I once more tell you, Fairfax, I now +detest. I should have no plea with her, were that of delay removed. + +What is still worse, this delay may be removed by another and more +painful cause. My mother it appears declines rapidly: her death is even +feared, and should it happen, I cannot pretend to insist on the +obstacles which her maternal cares and provisionary fears have raised. + +I can think of no certain expedient, for this Abimelech, but that of an +anonymous letter. Neither the writing nor the style must appear to be +mine; nor must the hand that writes it understand its purport. Tyros +and ignorant as my opponents are, in the tricks and intrigues of +amorous stratagem, still they have too much understanding not to be +redoubtable. + +Those old necromancers Subtlety and Falsehood must forge the magic +armour, and the enchanted shield, under which I fight. Like wizards of +yore, they must render me invisible; and the fair form of the foolish +Clifton they have imagined must only be seen. + +Honest Aby, or I mistake him, is too worthy a fellow to desert so good +a cause. And this cloud-capt lady, whose proud turrets I have sworn to +level with the dust, will not descend to plead the approaching death of +my mother, when I shall urge the injustice of delay--Ay, Fairfax, the +injustice! I mean to command, to dare, to overawe; that is the only +oratory which can put her to the rout. She loves to be astonished, and +astonished she shall be. If I do not shrink from myself her fall is +infallible. + +My heart exults in the coming joy! Never more will the milky pulp of +compassion rise to mar the luxurious meal! She has been writing to the +fellow, Fairfax; ay and has shewn me her letter! For, let her but +imagine that truth, or virtue, or principle, or any other abortive +being of her own creation, requires her to follow the whims of her +disjointed fancy, and what frantic folly is there of which she is +incapable? + +'Tis maddening to recollect, but she doats on the fellow; absolutely +doats! I am the tormenting demon that has appeared to interrupt her +happiness; she the devoted victim, sacrificed to shield me from harm! +The thought of separation from him is distracting, and every power must +be conjured up to avert the horrid woe! + +Never before did my feelings support such various and continual +attacks; never did I endure infidelity so open or insult so unblushing. +But, patience; the day of vengeance is at hand, or rather is here! This +moment will I fly and take it! Expect to hear 'of battles, sieges, +disastrous chances, and of moving accidents; but not of hair breadth +'scapes!'--Escape she cannot! I go! She falls! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XCIII + +_Frank Henley to Anna Wenbourne St. Ives_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +It is now a week since I wrote to you, madam, at which time I took some +pleasure in acquainting you with my hopes of success. These hopes +continued to increase, and my father had almost promised to agree to +the just proposals I made, when two days ago he suddenly and +pertinaciously changed his opinion. + +I am sorry to add that he now appears to be much more determined than +ever, and that I am wholly astonished at and wholly unable to account +for this alteration of sentiment. I delayed sending you the +intelligence by yesterday's post, hoping it was only a temporary return +of former projects, which I could again reason away. But I find him so +positive, so passionate, and so inaccessible to reason, that I am +persuaded some secret cause has arisen of which I am ignorant. Yet do +not be dejected, dear madam, nor imagine I will lightly give it up as a +lost cause--No--My mind is too much affected and too earnestly bent on +its object not to accomplish it, if possible. + +I received your letter[1], but have no thanks that can equal the +favour. I hope the emotions to which it gave birth were worthy such a +correspondent. I can truly and I believe innocently say my heart +sympathises in all your joys, hopes, and apprehensions; and that my +pleasure, at the progress of Mr. Clifton in the discovery of truth and +the practice of virtue, is but little less than your own. + +[Footnote 1: It contained the state of her feelings, with which the +reader is already acquainted, but no new incidents; for which reason it +is omitted.] + +I am glad you thought proper to be cautious of giving Sir Arthur any +unconfirmed expectations; and I promise you to exert every effort to +effect a propitious change in the present temper and resolutions of my +father. + +I am, dear madam, &c. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER XCIV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +When last I wrote my resolution was taken, and I determined on +immediate attack. But I went in a seeming unlucky moment; though I much +mistake if it were not the very reverse. + +The supposed misfortune I had foreseen fell upon me. The 'squire of +preachers had fairly overcome his father's obstinacy, and induced him +to give ground! Instead of having received the news of his determined +persistency, I found her with a letter in her hand, informing her that +he had begun to relent, and that his full acquiescence was expected. + +To have commenced the battle at so inauspicious a moment would have +been little worthy of a great captain. My resolution was instantly +formed. + +After acting as much ecstasy as I could call up, I hastened home and +wrote my projected letter to honest Aby. I threw my hints together in +Italian, that they might not be understood by the agent whom I meant to +employ. This was my groom, an English lad whom I met with at Paris, who +spells well and writes a good hand. I pretended I had crushed my finger +and could not hold a pen; and, without letting him understand the +intent of my writing, or even that it was a letter, I dictated to him +as follows; a transcript of which I send to you, Fairfax, first that +you may sigh and see what the blessing of a ready invention is, and +next as an example which you may copy, or at least from which you may +take a hint, if ever you should have occasion. + +'So you have been persuaded at last to give up your point, my old +friend! And can you swallow this tale of a tub? A fine cock and a bull +story has been dinned in your ears? Don't believe a word on't. I know +the whole affair; and, though you don't know me, be assured I mean you +well: and I tell you that if you will but hold out stoutly every thing +will soon be settled to your heart's desire. She is dying for love of +him, and he can't see it! She will never have the man they mean for +her; I can assure you of that; and what is more he will never have her. +What I tell you I know to be true. No matter who I am. If I knew +nothing of the affair how could I write to you? And if the advice I +give be good, what need you care whom it comes from? Only don't let +your son see this; if you do it will spoil all. You perceive how blind +he is to his own good, and how positive too. Keep your counsel, but be +resolute. Look around you, persist in your own plans, and the hall, the +parks, the gardens, the meadows, the lands you see are all your own! I +am sure you cannot misunderstand me. But mark my words; be close; keep +your thoughts to yourself. You know the world: You have made your own +fortune; don't mar it by your own folly. Tell no tales, I say; nor, if +you are a wise man, give the least hint that you have a friend in a +corner.' + +This I dictated to my amanuensis, pretending to translate it out of the +paper I held in my hand, and which I took care to place before him, so +that he should see it was really written in a foreign language. I +likewise once or twice counterfeited a laugh at what I was reading, and +ejaculated to myself--'This is a curious scrap!' + +When he had finished I gave him half a crown, praised his hand-writing, +which I told him I wanted to see, for perhaps I might find him better +employment than currying of horses, and sent him about his business too +much pleased and elated, and his ideas led into too distant a train to +harbour the least suspicion. + +Nor did my precautions end here. I immediately ordered my horse, and +rode without any attendant full speed to Hounslow. I there desired the +landlord of an inn at which I am personally known, though not by name, +to send one of his own lads, post, to the market town next to +Wenbourne-Hill, and there to hire a countryman, without explaining who +or what he himself was, to deliver the letter into the hands of honest +Aby. I requested the landlord to choose an intelligent messenger, and +backed my request with a present bribe and a future promise. + +My plan was too well laid to miscarry, and accordingly yesterday a +mournful account arrived, from the young orator, that judgment is +reversed, and he in imminent danger of being cast in costs. + +And now, Fairfax, once more I go!--Expedition, resolution, a torrent of +words, a storm of passion, and the pealing thunder that dies away in +descending rains! The word is Anna St. Ives, revenge, and victory! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XCV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Once more, Fairfax, here am I. + +Well! And how--? + +Not so fast, good sir. All things in their turn. The story shall be +told just as it happened, and your galloping curiosity must be pleased +to wait. + +I knew my time, the hour when she would retire to her own apartment, +and the minute when I might find admission; for she is very methodical, +as all your very wise people more or less are. I had given Laura her +lesson; that is, had told her that I had something very serious to say +to her mistress that morning, and desired her to take care to be out of +the way, that she might be sure not to interrupt us. The sly jade +looked with that arch significance which her own experience had taught +her, and left me with--'Oh! Mr. Clifton!' + +And here I could make a remark, but that would be anticipating my +story. + +You may think, Fairfax, that, marshalled as my hopes and fears were in +battle array, something of inward agitation would be apparent. In +reality not only some but much was visible. It caught her attention, +and luckily caught. I attempted to speak, and stammered. A false step +as it would have been most fatal so was it more probable at the moment +of onset than afterward, when the heated imagination should have +collected, arranged, and begun to pour forth its stores. + +The philosophy of the passions was the theme I first chose, though at +the very moment when my spirits were all fluttering with wild disorder. +But my faultering voice, which had I wished I could not have commanded, +aided me; for the tremulous state of my frame threw hers into most +admirable confusion! + +'What was it that disturbed me? What had I to communicate? She never +saw me thus before! It was quite alarming!' + +Madam--[Observe, Fairfax, I am now the speaker: but I shall remind you +of such trifles no more. If you cannot distinguish the interlocutors, +you deserve not to be present at such a dialogue.] Madam, I own my mind +is oppressed by thoughts which, however just in their purpose, however +worthy in their intent, inspire all that hesitation, that timidity, +that something like terror, which I scarcely know how to overcome. Yet +what should I fear? Am I not armed by principle and truth? Why shun a +declaration of thoughts that are founded in right; or tremble like a +coward that doubted of his cause? I am your scholar, and have learned +to subdue sensations of which the judgment disapproves. From you +likewise have I learned to avow tenets that are demonstrable; and not +to shrink from them because I may be in danger of being misconstrued, +or even suspected. Pardon me! I do you wrong. Your mind is superior to +suspicion. It is a mean an odious vice, and never could I esteem the +heart in which it found place. I forget myself, and talk to you as I +would to a being of an infinitely lower order. + +Mr. Clifton-- + +Do not let your eye reprove me! I have not said what is not; and who +better knows than you how much it is beneath us to refrain from saying +what is? + +Do not keep me in this suspense! I am sure there is something very +uncommon in your thoughts! Speak! + +Thoughts will be sometimes our masters: the best and wisest of us +cannot always command them. That I have daily repressed them, have +struggled against rooted prejudices and confirmed propensities, and +have ardently endeavoured to rise to that proud eminence toward which +you have continually pointed, you are my witness. + +I am. + +Protracted desires, imagined pleasures, and racking pains [and oh how +often have they all been felt!] no longer sway me. They have been +repulsed, disdained, trodden under foot. You have taught me how +shameful it is to be the slave of passion. Truth is now my object, +justice my impulse, and virtue, high virtue my guide. + +Oh, Clifton! Speak thus, be thus ever! + +The moment it appeared, I knew that delay was ominous. + +Nay, Clifton-- + +Hear me, madam!--Yes ominous! I see no end to it, have every thing to +fear from it, and nothing to hope--There is a thought--Ay, that verges +to madness!--I have a rival--! But I will forget it--at least will +try. Who can deny that it is excruciating?--But I am actuated at +present by another and a nobler motive. You know, madam, what you +found me; and I hope you are not quite unconscious of what you have +made me. You have taught me principles to which I mean to adhere, and +truths I intend to assert; have opened views to me of immense +magnitude! In your society I am secure. But habits are inveterate, and +easily revived; and were I torn from you, I myself know not the degree +of my own danger. Yes, madam, fain indeed would I forget there is such +a person as Frank Henley! Yet how? By what effort, what artifice? Say! +Teach me! What though my heart reproaches me with its own foibles, who +can prevent possibilities, mere possibilities, in a case like this, +from being absolute torments? My soul pants and aches after certainty! +The moment I ask myself what doubt there can be of Anna St. Ives, I +answer none, none! Yet the moment after, forgetting this question, +alarms, probabilities, past scenes and intolerable suppositions swarm +to assault me, without relaxation or mercy. + +Clifton, you said you had a nobler motive. + +I merit the reproach, madam. These effusions burst from me, are +unworthy of me, and I disclaim them. You have pardoned many of my +strays and mistakes, and I am sure will pardon this. [For the love of +fame, Fairfax, do not suffer the numerous master-strokes of this +dialogue to escape you. I cannot stay to point them out.] Yes, madam, I +have a nobler motive! Yet, enlarged as your mind is, I know not how to +prepare you calmly to listen to me, without alarm and without +prevention. Strange as it may seem, I dread to speak truth even to you! + +If truth it be, speak, and fear nothing. Propose but any adequate and +worthy purpose, and there is no pain, no danger, no disgrace from which +if I know myself I would shrink. + +No disgrace, madam? + +Your words and looks both doubt me--Put me to the proof. Propose I say +an adequate and worthy purpose, and let your test be such as nature +shudders at; then despise me and my principles if I recoil. + +The union of marriage demands reciprocal, unequivocal, and unbounded +confidence; for how can we pretend to love those whom we cannot trust? +The man who is unworthy this unbounded confidence is most unworthy to +be a husband; and it were even better he should shew his bad qualities, +by basely and dishonestly deserting her who had committed herself body +and soul to his honour, than that such qualities should discover +themselves after marriage. There is no disgrace can equal the torment +of such an alliance. + +I grant it. + +You have attained that noble courage which dares to question the most +received doctrines, and bring them to the test of truth. Who better +than you can appreciate the falsehood and the force of the prejudices +of opinion? Yet are you sure, madam, that even you are superior to them +all? + +Far otherwise. Would I were! I am much too ignorant for such high such +enviable perfection. + +But is it not possible that some of the most common, and if I dared I +should say the most narrow, the most self-evident of these prejudices +may sway and terrify you from the plain path of equity? Dare you look +the world's unjust contumelies stedfastly in the face? Dare you answer +for yourself that you will not shudder at the performance of what you +cannot but acknowledge, nay have acknowledged to be an act of duty? + +I confess your preparation is alarming, and makes me half suspect +myself, half desirous to retract all I have thought, all I have +asserted! Yet I think I dare do whatever justice can require. + +You think--? + +Once more bring me to the proof. I feel a conscious [Again you make me +a braggart.] a virtuous certainty. + +In opposition to the whole world, its prepossessions, reproofs, +revilings, persecutions, and contempt? + +The picture is terrifying, but ought not to be, and I answer yes; in +opposition to and in defiance of them all. + +Then--You are my wife! + +How? + +Be firm! Start not from the truth! You are my wife! Ask yourself the +meaning of the word. Can set forms and ceremonies unite mind to mind? +And if not they, what else? What but community of sentiments, +similarity of principles, reciprocal sympathies, and an equal ardour +for and love of truth? Can it be denied? + +It cannot. + +You are my wife, and I have a right to the privileges of a husband! + +A right? + +An absolute, an indefeasible right! + +You go too fast! + +They are your own principles: they are principles founded on avowed and +indisputable truths. I claim justice from you! + +Clifton! + +Justice! + +This is wrong!--Surely it is wrong!--This cannot be! + +Instead of the chaste husband, such as better times and spirits of +higher dignity have known, who comes with lips void of guile the +rightful claimant of an innocent heart, in which suspicion never +harboured, imagine me to be a traitorous wretch, who poorly seeks to +gratify a momentary, a vile, a brutal passion! Imagine me, I say, such +a creature if you can! Once I should have feared it; but you have +taught my thoughts to soar above such vulgar terrors. My appeal is not +to your passions, but your principles. Inspired by that refulgent +ardour which animates you, with a noble enthusiasm you have yourself +bid me put you to the proof. You cannot, will not, dare not be unjust! + +And now, Fairfax, behold her in the very state I wished! Cowed, +silenced, overawed! Her ideas deranged, her tongue motionless, wanting +a reply, her eyes wandering in perplexity, her cheeks growing pale, her +lips quivering, her body trembling, her bosom panting! Behold I say the +wild disorder of her look! Then turn to me, and read secure triumph, +concealed exultation, and bursting transport on my brow! While +impetuous, fierce, and fearless desire is blazing in my heart, and +mounting to my face! See me in the very act of fastening on her! And +see--! + +Curses!--Everlasting curses pursue and catch my perfidious evil +genius!--See that old Incubus' Mrs. Clarke enter, with a letter in her +hand that had arrived express, and was to be delivered instantly!--Our +mutual perturbation did not escape the prying witch; my countenance +red, hers pale--The word begone! maddened to break loose from my +impatient tongue. My eyes however spoke plainly enough, and the hag was +unwillingly retiring, when a faint--'Stay, Mrs. Clarke'--called her +back! + +As I foreboded, it was all over for this time! She opened the letter. +What its contents were I know not; and impossible as it is that they +should relate to me, I yet wish I did. I am sure by her manner they +were extraordinary. I could not ask while that old beldam was present +[Had she been my grandmother, on this occasion I should have abused +her.] and the eye of the young lady very plainly told me she wished me +away. It was prudent to make the best retreat possible, and with the +best grace: I therefore bowed and took my leave; very gravely telling +her I hoped she would seriously consider what I had said, and again +emphatically pronounced the word _justice!_ + +You have now, Fairfax, been a spectator of the scene; and if its many +niceties have escaped you, if you have not been hurried away, as I was, +by the tide of passion, and amazed at the successful sophistries which +flowed from my tongue, sophistries that are indeed so like truth that I +myself at a cooler moment should have hesitated to utter them; if I say +the deep art with which the whole was conducted, and the high acting +with which I personified the only possible Being that could subjugate +Anna St. Ives do not excite your astonishment, why then you really are +a dull fellow! But I know you too well, Fairfax, to do you such +injustice as this supposes. Victory had declared for me. I read her +thoughts. They were labouring for an answer, I own; but she was too +much confounded. And would I have given her time to rally? No! I should +then have merited defeat. + +The grand difficulty however is vanquished: she will hear me the next +time with less surprise, and the emotions of passion, genuine honest +mundane passion, must take their turn; for not even she, Fairfax, can +be wholly exempt from these emotions. I have not the least fear that my +eloquence should fail me, and absolute victory excepted, I could not +have wished for greater success. + +I cannot forget this letter. It disturbs and pesters my imagination. I +supposed it to be from Edward, who has been at Bath; but my valet has +just informed me he is returned. Perhaps it is from my sister; and if +so, by its coming express, my mother is dead! I really fear it bodes me +harm--I am determined to rid myself of this painful suspense. I will +therefore step to Grosvenor-street. I may as well face the worst at +once. You shall hear more when I return. + +Oh, Fairfax! I could curse most copiously, in all heathenish and +christian tongues! She has shut herself up, and refuses to see me! This +infernal fellow Frank Henley is returned too. He arrived two hours +after the express. I suspect it came from him; nay I suspect--Flames +and furies!--I must tell you! + +I have seen Laura, though scarcely for two minutes. She is afraid she +is watched. It is all uproar, confusion, and suspicion at Sir Arthur's. +But the great curse is my groom, the lad that I told you copied my +letter to Abimelech, has been sent for and privately catechised by her +and her paramour! And what confirms this most tormenting of all +conjectures is the absence of the fellow: he has not been home since, +nor at the stables, though he was always remarkably punctual, but has +sent the key; so that he has certainly absconded. + +Had I not been a stupid booby, had I given Laura directions to keep out +of the way of Anna, but in the way of taking messages for her, she +might have received the express, and all might have been well. Such a +blockheadly blunder well deserves castigation! + +I'll deny the letter, Fairfax. They have no proof, and I'll swear +through thick and thin rather than bring myself into this universal, +this damnatory disgrace! I know indeed she will not believe me; and I +likewise know that now it must be open war between us. For do not think +that I will suffer myself to be thus shamefully beaten out of the +field. No, by Lucifer and his Tophet! I will die a foaming maniac, +fettered in straw, ere that shall happen! If not by persuasion, she +shall be mine by chicanery, or even by force. I will perish, Fairfax, +sooner than desist! + +Oh for an agent, a coadjutor worthy of the cause! He must and shall be +found. + +The uncle and aunt must be courted: the father I expect will side with +her. The brother too must be my partisan; for it will be necessary I +should maintain an intercourse, and the shew of still wishing for +wedlock. + +I am half frantic, Fairfax! To be baffled by such an impossible +accident, after having acted my part with such supreme excellence, is +insupportable! But the hag Vengeance shall not slip me! No! I have +fangs to equal hers, ay and will fasten her yet! I have been injured, +insulted, frustrated, and fiends seize me if I relent! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER XCVI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Louisa!--My dear, my kind, my affectionate Louisa!--My friend!--What +shall I say? How shall I begin? I am going to rend your heart.-- + +Keep this letter from the sight of Mrs. Clifton: if she have not +already been told, do not let her know such a letter exists--Oh this +brother!--But he is not your brother--Error so rooted, so malignant, so +destructive exceeds all credibility! + +He came to me yesterday morning, as was his custom. There was something +in his look which, could I but have read it, was exceedingly +descriptive of the workings of his heart. It was painful to see him. +He endeavoured to smile and for a moment to talk triflingly, but could +not. He was in a tremor; his mouth parched, his lips white. + +His next essay was to philosophise; but in this attempt too he was +entirely at fault. + +The passions are all sympathetic, and none more so than this of +trepidation. I cannot recollect what the ideas were that passed hastily +through my mind; but I know he excited much alarm, doubt, and I believe +suspicion. + +But, though he had found all this difficulty to begin, having begun he +recovered himself very surprisingly. His colour returned, his voice +became firm, his ideas clear, his reasoning energetic, and his manner +commanding. He seemed to mould my hopes and apprehensions as he +pleased, to inspire terror this moment, and the excess of confidence +the next. + +Louisa, my heart bleeds to say it, but his purposes were vile, his +hypocrisy odious, and--I must forbear, and speak of foul deeds in fair +terms. I know not how many prejudices rise up to warn me; one that I am +a woman, or rather a girl; another that I am writing to the man's +sister; a third that she is my friend, and so on with endless et +ceteras. No matter that truth is to this friend infinitely more +precious than a brother. I may be allowed to feel indignation, but not +to express my feeling. + +But the most distressing, the most revolting part of all is, that he +harangued like the apostle of truth, the name of which he vilely +prophaned, in favour of the basest, most pitiful, most contemptible of +vices; the mere vain glory of seduction. He has not even so much as the +gratification of sensual appetite to plead in his excuse. I am wrong; +it was not vain glory. Vanity itself, contemptible as such a stimulus +would have been, was scarcely a secondary motive. It was something +worse; it was revenge. My mind has been wholly occupied in retracing +his past behaviour; I can think on no other subject, and every trait +which recollection adds is a confirmation of this painful idea. He does +not wish to marry me, and I almost doubt whether he ever did, at least +fully and unreservedly. + +He came to me, Louisa, and began with painting the torments of delay +and the pangs of jealousy, which he endeavoured to excuse; and +concluded with a bold appeal to my justice; a daring, over-awing, +confounding appeal. He called upon me at my peril, and as I respected +truth and virtue, to deny his claim. + +And what was this claim?--I was his wife!--In every pure and virtuous +sense his wife; and he demanded the privilege of a husband!--Demanded, +Louisa!--Demanded!--And demanded it in such a tone, with such rapid, +overbearing, bold expressions, and such an apparent consciousness of +right, that for a moment my mind was utterly confused! + +Not that it ceded; no, not an instant. I knew there was answer, a just +and irrefragable one, but I could not immediately find it. He +perceived my disorder, and you cannot imagine what a shameless and +offensive form his features assumed! I know not what he would not +instantly have attempted, had not, while I was endeavouring to awake +from my lethargy, Mrs. Clarke come in! She brought me a letter--It was +sent express!--The hand writing was Frank's! Agitated as I was, +suspicion influenced me, and I retreated a few steps. I opened the +letter, and the first words I saw were--'Beware of Mr. Clifton.'-- + +It contained only half a dozen lines, and I read on. What follows were +its contents-- + +Beware of Mr. Clifton!--Had I not good cause, madam, I would not be so +abrupt an accuser: but I am haunted, tortured by the dread of +possibilities, and therefore send this away express--Beware of Mr. +Clifton!--I will not be long after the letter, and I will then explain +why I have written what to you may appear so strange. + +F. HENLEY + + +Think, Louisa, what must be the effect of such a letter, coming at such +a moment!--I believe I was in no danger; though, if there be a man on +the face of the earth more dangerous than any other, it is surely +Clifton. But the watchful spirit of Frank seems placed like my guardian +angel, to protect me from all possible harm. + +My mind debated for a moment whether it were not wrong to distrust the +power of truth and virtue, and not to let Mr. Clifton see I could +demolish the audacious sophistry by which he had endeavoured to +confound and overwhelm me. But my ideas were deranged, and I could not +collect sufficient fortitude. Oh how dangerous is this confusion of the +judgment, and how desirable that heavenly presence of mind which is +equal to these great these trying occasions! I therefore thought it +more prudent to suffer him to depart, and suspect vilely of me, than to +encounter the rude contest which he would more audaciously recommence, +were I to send away Mrs. Clarke, which he might even misconstrue into a +signal of approbation. These fears prevailed, and I desired her to +stay, and by my manner told him I wished his absence. + +Louisa, how shall I describe my anguish of heart at seeing all those +hopes of a mind so extraordinary, for extraordinary it is even in +guilt, at once overthrown? It was indeed iteration of anguish! What! +Can guile so perfectly assume the garb of sincerity? Can hypocrisy +wear so impenetrable a mask? How shall we distinguish? What guide +have we? How be certain that the next seeming virtuous man we meet +is not a--Well, well, Louisa--I will remember--Brother. My Louisa +knows it is not from the person, but from the vice that I turn away +with disgust. Would I willingly give her heart a pang? Let her tell +me if she can suspect it. She has fortitude, she has affection; but +it is an affection for virtue, truth, and justice. She will endeavour +to reform error the most obdurate. So will I, so will all that are +worthy the high office. But she will not wish me either to marry with +or to countenance this error. Marry?--how does my soul shudder at the +thought! His reasoning was just; seduction would have been a petty +injury, or rather a blessing, compared to this master evil! He was +most merciful when he meant me, as he thought, most destruction. I +have been guilty of a great error. The reformation of man or woman +by projects of marriage is a mistaken a pernicious attempt. Instead +of being an act of morality, I am persuaded it is an act of vice. Let +us never cease our endeavours to reform the licentious and the +depraved, but let us not marry them. + +The letter had not been delivered more than two hours before Frank +arrived. You may think, Louisa, how hard he had ridden; but he refused +to imagine himself fatigued. He brought another letter, which Abimelech +had received, but which for some hours he obstinately refused to give +up, and for this reason Frank sent off the express. A letter, not of +Clifton's writing, but of his invention and sending! + +Finding that Frank was likely to prevail on his father to raise the +money for Sir Arthur, and obviate all further impediments to our +marriage, Clifton, fearful that it should take place, wrote anonymously +to Abimelech, to inform him I was in love with Frank, and to encourage +him to persist. But read the letter yourself; the following is a true +copy of it[1]. + +[Footnote 1: The reader has already perused it in Letter XCIV, to which +he is referred.]. + +If such a letter be his, I am sure, Louisa, you will not say I have +thought or spoken too unkindly of him; and that it is his we have +indubitable proof, though it was anonymous and not in his handwriting. + +You no doubt remember, Louisa, the short story of the English lad, whom +your brother hired at Paris. It was written by him, though innocently +and without knowing what was intended. This lad has an aunt, who after +having laboured to old age is now lame, infirm, and in need of support. +The active Frank has been with her, has aided her with money and +consoled her with kindness. The lad himself was desirous of assisting +her; and Frank, willing to encourage industry in the young, gave him +some writings to copy at his leisure hours. By this accident he knew +the lad's hand-writing. + +I forgot to mention, in its proper place, the astonishment of Frank at +the sudden change in his father, and the firm resolution he took to +discover the cause of this change. The obstinacy of Abimelech was +extreme; but Frank was still more pertinacious, more determined, and so +unwearied and incessant, in his attacks on his father, that the old man +at last could resist no longer, and shewed him this letter. + +From what has preceded, that is from his manner of acting, you may well +imagine what the alarms and sensations of Frank were. He brought the +letter up with him, for he would not trust it out of his own custody, +and immediately went himself to Clifton's stables in search of the lad, +brought him to me, and then first shewed him the letter, which that no +possible collusion might be alleged he had left in my keeping, and then +asked if it were not his hand-writing. The lad very frankly and +unhesitatingly answered it was; except the direction, which this +plotting Clifton had procured to be written by some other person. + +Without telling the lad more than was necessary, Frank advised him to +quit his service, for that there was something relating to that letter +which would certainly occasion a quarrel, and perhaps worse, between +him and his master: and, as it would be prudent for him to keep out of +the way, he sent him down to Wenbourne-Hill, where the lad is at +present. + +And now what shall I say to my Louisa? How shall I sooth the feelings +of my friend? Do they need soothing? Does she consider all mankind as +her relations and brothers, or does she indeed imagine that one whose +principles are so opposite to her own is the only brother she +possesses? Will she grieve more for him than she would for any other, +who should be equally unfortunate in error? Or does she doubt with me +whether grief can in any possible case be a virtue? And if so, is there +any virtue of which she is incapable? What is relation, what is +brother, what is self, if relation, brother, or self be at war with +truth? And does not truth command us to consider beings exactly as they +are, without any respect to this relationship, this self? + +But I know my Louisa; she will never be impatient under trial, however +severe; nor foolishly repine for the past, though she will strenuously +labour for the future. + +All good, all peace, all happiness, all wisdom be with her! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER XCVII + +_Louisa Clifton to her Brother Coke Clifton_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +Sir + +On Friday morning I received the original letter from Anna St. Ives, of +which the inclosed is a copy; and on the following day about a quarter +of an hour before midnight my mother expired. I mention these +circumstances together because they were noticed, by those who were +necessarily acquainted with them, as having a relation to each other; +whether real or imaginary, much or little I do not pretend to +determine; but I will relate the facts and leave them to your own +reflection; and I will forbear all colouring, that I may not be +suspected of injustice. + +My mother as you know has been daily declining, and was indeed in a +very feeble state. She seemed rather more cheerful that morning than +she had been lately, and at her particular request I went to visit the +wife of farmer Beardmore, who is a worthy but poor woman, and who being +at present dejected, in consequence of poverty and ill health, my +mother thought she might be more benefited by the kindness of the +little relief we could afford her if delivered by me, than if sent by a +less soothing and sympathetic hand. I should hope, sir, it would be +some consolation to you to learn that my mother's active virtue never +forsook her, while memory and mind remained. But of this you are the +best judge. + +While I was gone the postman brought the letter of my friend; and as +her letters were always read to my mother, and as I likewise have made +it a rule and a duty not to have any secrets to conceal from her, or +indeed from any body, she had no scruple to have the letter opened, +because she expected to find consolation and hope: for, till the +arrival of this, the letters of Anna St. Ives have lately been all +zealous in your praise. + +I will leave you, sir, to imagine the effect which a letter beginning +as this did must have on a mind and body worn to such a tremulous state +of sensibility. Coming as it did first into my mother's hand, the very +caution which the benevolent heart of Anna dictated produced the effect +she most dreaded. My mother had still however a sufficient portion of +her former energy to hear it to the end. + +In about an hour after this happened I returned, and found her in +extreme agitation of mind. I neglected no arguments, no efforts to calm +her sensations; and I succeeded so far that after a time she seemed to +be tolerably resigned. She could not indeed forget it, and the subject +was revived by her several times during the day. + +My chief endeavour was to lead her thoughts into that train which, by +looking forward to the progress of virtue, is most consoling to the +mind of virtue. + +She seemed at last fatigued, and about eleven o'clock at night fell +into a doze. About a quarter before twelve I perceived her countenance +distorted; I was alarmed; I spoke to her and received no answer; I +endeavoured to excite attention or motion, but in vain. A paralytic +stroke had deprived her of sensation. In this state she remained +four-and-twenty hours, and about midnight departed. + +I have thought it strictly incumbent on me to relate these +circumstances. But I should consider myself as very highly culpable did +I seek to aggravate, or to state that as certainty which can never be +any thing more than conjecture. My mother was so enfeebled that we +began to be in daily apprehension of her death. I must not however +conceal that the thought of your union with Anna St. Ives had been one +of her principal pleasures, ever since she had supposed it probable; +and that she had spoken of it incessantly, and always with that high +degree of maternal affection and cheering hope which you cannot but +know was congenial to her nature. + +The disappointment itself was great, but the turpitude that attended it +much greater. This I did not endeavour to palliate. How could I? I have +told you I had no resource for consolation, either for myself or her, +but in turning, like Anna St. Ives, from the individual to the whole. + +I would endeavour to say something that should shew you the folly of +such conduct; for the folly of it is even more excessive than the vice; +but, not to mention the state of my own mind at this moment, I despair +of producing any effect, since Anna St. Ives herself, aided by so many +concurring motives, has failed in the generous and disinterested +attempt. + +I imagine you will be down at the funeral. Perhaps it is proper. I +cannot say, for indeed I do not very well understand many of what are +called the proprieties of custom. I own I am weak enough to feel some +pain at meeting you, under the present circumstances. But, since it is +necessary I should act and aid you in various family departments, if +you should come down, I will not yield to these emotions, but +considering you as an erring brother, will endeavour to perform what +duty requires. + +L. CLIFTON + + +P.S. Previous to this I wrote three different letters, but they were +all as I fear too expressive of those strong sensations which I have +found it very difficult to calm. I destroyed them, not because they +were wrong, but lest they should produce a wrong effect. + + + + +LETTER XCVIII + +_Coke Clifton to his Sister Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Madam, + +I have received your very lenient, equitable, calumniating, insulting +letter; and I would have you put it down in your memorandum-book that I +will carefully remember the obligation. It perfectly accords with your +sublime ideas of justice to decide before you have heard both parties; +and it is equally consistent with your notions of sisterly affection +that you should pass sentence on a brother. What is a brother, or all +he may have to say, to you; who, more infallible than the holy father +himself, have squared a set of rules of your own, by which you judge as +you best know how? + +Your insinuations concerning the death of my mother are equally +charitable, and I have already learnt them by rote. Yes, madam, assure +yourself they will not be forgotten. Any suspense of judgment would +have ill become a lady so clear sighted. However possible it may be +that Anna St. Ives may herself have been imposed upon, and I both +ignorant and innocent of this forged letter, yet for you to have +entertained any doubts in my favour would have partaken too much of the +fogs of earth for so inspired and celestial a lady. + +But I must tell you, madam, since you can so readily forego equity in a +brother's behalf, I can and will be as ready to forget and cast off the +sister. I never yet was or will be injured with impunity: I would have +you note down that. + +I mean to be at Rose-Bank tomorrow or the day after, to attend the +funeral and take such order as my affairs may require; and though I +have as little affection for your company as you have for mine, I +imagine it will be quite necessary for you to be there: not only that +you should be present to execute all orders, but likewise to listen to +a few hints which I shall probably think proper to communicate. + +In the mean time, madam, be industrious to propagate the report, if you +think fit, that I have caused anonymous letters to be written to Sir +Arthur's steward, have endeavoured to betray Anna St. Ives, and have +been the death of my mother. Spread the agreeable intelligence I say as +quickly and as widely as you can, and when you meet me you shall +receive a brother's thanks. + +C. CLIFTON + + +END OF VOLUME V + + + + +VOLUME VI + + + +LETTER XCIX + +_Abimelech Henley to Sir Arthur St. Ives, Baronet_ + +_Wenbourne-Hill_ + +Most Onnurable Sir, my ever onnurd Master, + +I do hear of strange queerums and quicksets, that have a bin trap laid +for your ever gracious onnur, and for the mercifool lovin kindness of +sweet missee. Whereof I be all in a quandary, for it do seem I wus +within an ames ace of a havin bin chouse flickur'd meself. Whereby I +paradventerd before to tell your noble onnur my poor thofts on this +here Mr. Clifton match marriage, which is all against the grain. And +this I do hope your ever onnurable onnur will pry into, and see with +your own eyes. + +Whereof I have a bin ruminatin of many thinks lately, and of the ups +and downs of life, so that I should sing oh be joyfool if as your onnur +would but turn them in your thofts, as I have done. Whereby my son has +a bin down with me; and I do find that sooth and trooth he be verily a +son of my own begettin; and thof I say it a man may be proud of sitch a +son; and as your ever gracious onnur wus most mercifooly pleased to +sifflicate, a wus born a gentleman, for a has his head fool and fool of +fine notions. + +Whereby if your onnurable onnur will but a be pleased to lend a +mercifool ear to me, why mayhap I should a be willin to come down with +the kole to your onnur's heart's content. Why not? For I have a talked +matters over with my son, and a has said a many glorious thinks of your +onnur and of sweet mercifool missee, all a witch a learned from me. For +why? He is my own son, and of the issue of my loins, and I did always +giv'n the best of advice. A had his whole feedin and breedin from me, +and as a wus always fain to be a man of learnin why I taught him his +letters meself; whereof I have now reason to be proud of 'n. + +But that is not whereof of a what I wus a goin to think to say. I wus +about to paradventer to proposal to your onnur that, if thinks might +behappen to come to pass in the manner of mercifool lovin kindness and +gracious condysension, the wherewithalls should a be forth cummin to +the tune of fifty thousand pounds: that is with the betokenin of all +proper securities of parchments and deeds and doosoors to be first +signed and stipilated, as heretofore have bin on like future occasions. +Take me ritely, your onnur; I mean for the twenty thousand pounds. For +why? I meself will be so all bountifool as to come down on the nail +head with thirty thousand for my son. And then we shall see who will be +a better gentleman, as your onnurable onnur wus most graciously pleased +to kappaishus him? + +Whereby Wenbourne Hill would then be in all its glory; and mayhap your +ever gracious onnur might in sitch a case again go on with your +improofments. And who can say but the wildurness might a begin to +flourish? So that if your noble onnur will but think of that, why +thinks may behappen to begin to take a new turn, and there may be mirth +and merry days again at Wenbourne Hill. For I do know in your heart +your onnur do lamentation the loss of all your fine taste, and elegunt +ideers, and plans, and alterations; all of a witch have a bin so many +years a carryin on and a compassin at Wenbourne Hill. + +Whereof I umbelly condysend to intreat your noble onnur would a give +these thinks a thinkin. For why? The lawyers might a then be stoptt, +and a spoke might a behappen to be put in the wheel of the +foreclosures; witch if not, as your noble onnur already knows, may not +a turn out to be altogether quite so agreeable, unless your ever +gracious and onnurable onnur should be so all mercifool as to rite to +me; whereof I could then give them the whys and the wherefores, and all +thinks would be smooth and smilin. + +I besiege your most noble onnur to ponderate mercifooly of these +thinks, and of a dockin of the entail, and of a settin of the deeds of +the lawyers to work. Whereby every think may in sitch a case be made +safe and secure, not forgettin Wenbourne Hill; and the willdurness, and +mayhap the hermuttidge, and the grotto. For why, your noble onnur? +Where one fifty thousand pound be a forth cummin from, another may a +behappen to be found. But that's a nether here nor there, a savin and +exceptin the death and mortality of man, and the resurrection of the +just and of the repentin sinner in all grace and glory. + +And so I most umbelly remain, with the thanks givin of goodness, your +onnur's most faithfool umbel sarvent everlastin to command, + +ABIMELECH HENLEY + + + + +LETTER C + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +No; I will not attempt to console my Louisa, for I will not suppose +even at the present moment that she yields to grief, or is in need of +consolation. She will not repine at what is not to be remedied, nor +debilitate her mind by dwelling on her own causes of discontent, +instead of awakening it to the numerous sources of happiness, which by +increasing the happiness of others incite it to activity. These are +truths too deeply engraven on the heart of Louisa to be forgotten, and +it is scarcely necessary to revive them even at this serious moment. + +With respect to myself, my friend shall be my judge; my whole conduct +shall be submitted to her, with an injunction not to indulge any +partialities in my favour, but to censure, advise, and instruct me +whenever she finds opportunity. Such, Louisa, has been our intercourse; +and we have mutual reason to congratulate each other on its effects. + +I have just had a conversation with Sir Arthur. He has received a +letter from Abimelech, which he shewed me. Of all the proofs Frank has +yet given of energy, this relative to his father is perhaps the +strongest. You know the character of Abimelech. Could you think it +possible? He is willing not only to raise twenty thousand pounds for +Sir Arthur, but to pay down thirty more for his son! He begins to be +vain of this son, and has even some slight perception that there may be +other good qualities beside that of getting and hoarding money. + +But his cunning is still predominant. Having conceived the possibility +of this marriage, the accomplishment of it is now become his ruling +passion, and has for a moment subjected avarice itself. He neglects no +motive which he thinks may influence Sir Arthur, not even threatening; +though his language is couched in all the art of apparent kindness and +adulation. His letter however has produced its effect on my father, as +you will perceive by the following dialogue, which was begun by Sir +Arthur. + +What think you of this proposal, Anna? + +I ought rather to ask what are your thoughts on the subject, sir. + +I can scarcely tell. I own it does not seem to me quite so unreasonable +as I should once have supposed it; that is as far as relates to me. But +if you should have conceived any partiality for Mr. Clifton, I should +then-- + +Excuse me, sir, for interrupting you, but Mr. Clifton is at present +wholly out of the question. Were it in my power, which I fear it is +not, to do him any service, I should be as desirous of doing it now as +ever; but I can never more think of him as a husband. + +Are you so very determined? + +I am; and I hope, sir, my determination is not offensive to you? + +I cannot say at present that it is; for not to mention that I think +very well of young Mr. Henley, I own the affair of the anonymous letter +was a very improper and strange proceeding. Your aunt Wenbourne and +Lord Fitz-Allen indeed seem to doubt it; but, according to the account +which you and Mr. Henley give, I think they have no foundation for +their doubts. + +The behaviour of Mr. Clifton, without the letter, would have been quite +sufficient to have fixed my determination. + +What behaviour? + +The proof he gave of deceit and depravity of principle, by the manner +in which he endeavoured to seduce me. + +When was that? + +The very day on which Frank arrived. + +Endeavoured to seduce you? + +Yes. + +Are you certain of the truth of what you say? + +He proceeded too far, and explained himself too openly for me to be +mistaken. + +Seduce you!--Then you have entirely given up all thoughts of him? + +All thoughts of marrying him I have most certainly. + +And what is your opinion of Mr. Henley? + +What can it be, sir? Are there two opinions concerning him? And if I +were blind to his virtues, for whose safety he has been so often and so +ardently active, who should do him justice? + +I own, Anna, I have often thought you had some love for him, and I am +tempted to think so still. + +Love in the sense in which you understand it I have carefully +suppressed, because till now I supposed it incompatible with duty and +virtue; but I acknowledge I begin to doubt; and even to suppose that +his view of the subject has been more rational and true than mine; and +he thinks it is our duty to form a union, for which he owns he has an +ardent wish. + +Yes, he has honestly told me all that passed between you; and his +sincerity pleased me--But every branch of our family would certainly be +against such a match. + +I suppose so. + +The world too would consider me as having dishonoured myself, were I to +consent. + +I believe it would. + +And would exclaim against the bad example--What ought to be done? + +My opinion has been that the world would have cause to make this +complaint; but I now think, or rather imagine myself convinced that I +was in an error. It appears evident to my mind, at present, that we +ought to consider whether an action be in itself good or bad, just or +unjust, and totally to disregard both our own prejudices, and the +prejudices of the world. Were I to pay false homage to wealth and rank, +because the world tells me it is right that I should do so, and to +neglect genius and virtue, which my judgment tells me would be an +odious wrong, I should find but little satisfaction in the applause of +the world, opposed to self-condemnation. + +Mr. Henley is a very good young man; a very good young man indeed; and +I believe I should even be willing to think of him for a son, if it +should not be opposed by the other branches of the family. + +But that it surely will. + +I am afraid so--Lord Fitz-Allen is half reconciled to us again, and I +would avoid breaking with him if possible. Your aunt has a good opinion +of Mr. Henley. + +But a better of Mr. Clifton. + +Yes, so I suppose. I must talk to Edward. Mr. Henley has been his +friend. + +But Edward does not understand friendship. When he says friend he means +acquaintance; and he finds him the most agreeable acquaintance, who +tells him least truth; which certainly is not Mr. Henley. I have +observed him lately to be rather fond of the company of Mr. Clifton, +whom he thinks a better companion. + +I own Mr. Henley is very obstinate in his opinions. + +If his opinions be true, would you not have him persist in the truth. + +But why should he be more certain that what he says is truth than other +people? + +Because he has examined with more industry and caution, has a stronger +mind, and a greater love of enquiry. He does not endeavour to make his +principles accord with his practice, but regulates his practice by his +principles. + +But still I ask what proof he has of being more in the right than other +people? + +I wonder, sir, that you can put such a question! He has surely given +both you and me sufficient proofs of superiority; and though you should +doubt the arguments you cannot doubt the facts. + +I own he is a very extraordinary young gentleman. + +Ah, sir! The word gentleman shews the bent of your thoughts. Can you +not perceive it is a word without a meaning? Or, if it have a meaning, +that he who is the best man is the most a gentleman? + +I know your notions, child, and mine differ a little on these matters. +However I do not think you quite so much in the wrong as I used to do; +and perhaps there is something in what you say. Many men of low +fortunes have made their way to the highest honours; and for what I +know he may do the same. + +He may and certainly will deserve the highest respect: but if you +flatter yourself, sir, that he will seek or accept the titles and +distinctions which men have invented to impose on each other's folly, +and obtain their own artful purposes, I ought to warn you that you will +be mistaken. His whole life will be devoted to the discovery and +spreading of truth; and, individual acts of benevolence excepted, his +wealth, should he acquire any, will all be dedicated to that sole +object. + +I am afraid these are strange whims, Anna! + +I hope yet to shew you, sir, they are noble duties; which it is the +excess of guilt to neglect. + +It puzzles me to conceive by what means his father could have become so +rich! + +He has all his life been rapacious after money. His faculties are +strong, but perverted. What would have been wisdom is degenerated into +cunning. He has made himself acquainted with usurers, and they have +made him acquainted with spendthrifts. He has traded in annuities, and +profited by the eagerness of youth to enjoy: and, since I must be +sincere, he has encouraged you, sir, to pursue plans of expence with a +view solely to his own profit. + +Well, well; should this marriage take place, it will all return into +the family. + +That should be no motive, sir, with either you or me. + +I do not know that. You understand your own reasons, and I mine; and if +they should but answer the same end there will be no harm. + +I was going to reply, but Sir Arthur left me; being unwilling to hear +arguments which he took it for granted he should not understand. + +Frank came in soon after, and I repeated to him what had been said. +Louisa, I must tell you the truth and the whole truth. Since I have +begun to imagine I might indulge my thoughts in dwelling on his exalted +qualities and uncommon virtues, my affection for them has greatly +increased: and they never appeared to me more lovely than in the +struggles and checks which his joy received, at the hope of our union, +by the recollection of the loss of Mr. Clifton. He like me is +astonished at the powers of your brother's mind, and at their +perversion; and he fears that this attempt, having failed, will but +serve to render that perversion more obdurate, nay perhaps more active. +He seems even to dread lest I am not secure; which his desire to guard +and caution me against would not suffer him to repress or conceal. His +tenderness and ecstasy, and indeed, Louisa, they were both very strong, +were mingled with regret equally vivid: and Mr. Clifton! Mr. Clifton! +repeatedly burst from him. + +While I was relating what had passed between me and Sir Arthur to +Frank, and now again since I have been writing it to you, I accused +myself of coldness, and of shrinking from or rather of half delivering +the truth, lest Sir Arthur should think me a forward girl, or lest I +should think myself capable of too sudden a change. But of the degree +of that change do you, my friend, judge. I have at all times +endeavoured to shew you my naked heart, and often have violently +struggled against every disguise. I never concealed from myself that I +thought more highly of Frank Henley than of Mr. Clifton; but I imagined +principle taught me to prefer what principle now warns me to shun. I am +more and more convinced of the error of marrying a bad man in order to +make him good. I was not entirely ignorant of this before, and +therefore flattered myself the good might be effected previous to +marriage. I forgot, when passion has a purpose to obtain, how artful it +is in concealment. + +I have another quarrel with myself, for having been so desirous of +proving to my own conviction that the world's prejudices and the +prejudices of my family ought to be respected, while that opinion +accorded with my practice; and of being now so equally alert to prove +the reverse. Such are the deceptions which the mind puts upon itself! +For indeed I have been very desirous of acting with sincerity in both +instances. I can only say that I feel more certain at present; for +before I had doubts, and now I have none. If you suspect me to be +influenced by inclination, tell me so without reserve. + +All good be with my friend! May she profit by my mistakes! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Rose-Bank_ + +You will perceive, Fairfax, I have changed the scene, and am now in the +country. I have a long narrative to detail, and am sitting in an old +hall with gloom and leisure enough to make it as tedious and as dull as +you could wish. My poor mother has taken her last leave of us, and lies +now a corpse in the room under me. I could be melancholy, or mad, or I +know not what--But 'tis no matter--She brought me here unasked to make +the journey of this world, and now I am obliged to jog on. Not that I +think I should much care if it were shortened, nor how soon; except +that I would live to have my revenge; and that I will have, little +troubling myself though the next minute were certain to be my last. It +rankles at my heart, and lies there corroding, biting, festering, night +and day. + +I have quarrelled with my sister, and I am sure shall never forgive +her; nor will she forgive me, so that we shall easily balance our +accounts. This Anna St. Ives is her supreme favourite. But no +wonder--No wonder--It would be strange if she were not! Still to be +so ready to give up a brother, and write me such a letter as she did +on the death of my mother! If I do not make her repent it Heaven +renounce me! + +But I consider the whole world as my enemies at this moment; you +perhaps, Fairfax, excepted. I say perhaps, for I do not know how soon +you may turn upon and yelp at me with the rest. + +Forgive me, Fairfax. I am all venom, all viper, and cannot forbear to +hiss even at my friend. But let my enemies beware! They shall find I +can sting!--These cursed gnawings of heart will not let me begin my +story. + +I told you I was determined to deny the anonymous letter. I have been +very industrious with uncle Fitz-Allen and aunt Wenbourne; and have +been equally careful to titilate the vanity of the coxcomb Edward, who +is highly flattered with the attention I have paid him, and will I am +certain become my warm partisan. + +They had all heard the story, but were all ready enough to gape and +swallow my tale; which considering it was wholly invention was not ill +composed. I begin to hate myself, to hate her, to hate the whole world, +for being obliged to submit to such a damned expedient. But I will not +recede. I will have my revenge! Were the devil himself waiting to +devour me I would on; or were he engaged against me, I would over-reach +him! + +I concerted my measures, and learning that this lad of mine, who wrote +the letter for me, was down at Wenbourne-Hill, I sent my man to +inveigle him to come to me, at an inn where I purposely stopped, in my +way to Rose-Bank. How durst they suborn my servant?--But--! I will stab +and not curse! + +My valet executed his commission, and prevailed on the lad to come; +though with some difficulty, for he is a stubborn dog; and had not the +valet followed my directions, and told him it was to do his old master +a service, he would have been foiled. But I took him up at Paris, +destitute and in some danger of starving, which he has not forgotten. + +This Henley however is a greater favourite with him than I am; as I +soon found by his discourse. + +I began by sounding him, to try if it were possible to prevail on him +to assert he had written the letter at the instigation of Henley, +instead of me; but I soon found it was in vain, and durst not proceed +to let him see my drift. + +I then persuaded him that they had totally mistaken my purpose in +writing the letter; that I had done it with a very friendly design; +that I had myself a very great esteem for Henley, and that I meant +nothing but good to Anna; but that there were some reasons, which I +could not explain to him, that had occasioned me to write the letter. + +As my next purpose, after that of making him an evidence in my favour, +was to send him entirely out of the way, if I failed in the first +attempt, I began to remind him of the condition in which I had found +him in Paris, which he was ready enough to acknowledge, and seemed +indeed afraid of acting ungratefully. I prompted and strengthened his +fears, and at last told him that, since I found he was a good lad and +meant well, though he was mistaken and had done me an injury, I would +give him an opportunity of shewing his gratitude. + +I then pretended that I had a packet of the utmost consequence to be +delivered to my friend in Paris; meaning you, Fairfax; which I durst +not trust to any but a sure hand: and as I knew him to be an honest +lad, I expected he would not refuse to set off with it immediately. It +was an affair almost of life and death! And, that I might impress his +mind with ideas which would associate and beget suitable images, I +began to talk of the decease of my mother, of my own affliction at the +misunderstanding with Anna, of my very great friendship for Henley, and +of the fatal consequences that would attend the miscarriage of the +packet. + +Still I found him reluctant. He seemed half to suspect me; and yet I +made a very clever tale of it. He talked of Henley and his aunt; and he +had likewise a dread of Paris. His aunt I find has been maintained by +Henley, she being lame and disabled; and as sending him out of the way +was a preliminary step absolutely necessary, I gave him a thirty pound +bank-note, desired him to go to his aunt and give her ten pounds, and +to keep the rest to secure him against any accidents, of which he +seemed afraid, in a strange country; with a promise that he should have +as much more, if he performed his commission faithfully, on his return. + +I further enquired the direction of the aunt, telling him I would +undertake to provide for her: and so I must, for she too must be sent +out of the way. + +At last, by repeating my professions and again reminding him of my +taking him up at Paris, I was successful. Though I had more trouble in +gaining the compliance of this lout than would have been sufficient, +were I prime minister, and did I bribe with any thing like the same +comparative liberality, to gain ten worthy members of parliament, +though five knights of the shire had been of the number. + +He wanted to return to Wenbourne-Hill for his necessaries and trifling +property; and this reminded me not only of the danger of doing that but +of his passing through London. Accordingly I told him to keep the ten +pounds meant for his aunt to buy himself what things he wanted, which I +promised to replace to her, and informed him I now recollected that he +must take the nearest road to Dover, which I pretended lay through +Guildford, Bletchingly, and Tunbridge, leaving London on the left. + +The importance, hurry and command I assumed did not give him time to +reflect; and the injunctions I gave were such as I do not imagine he +would have disobeyed. But for my own security, pretending a fear that +he might mistake his way, I sent my valet with him; privately ordering +the valet not to part till he saw him safe on board the packet-boat. + +And now, Fairfax, it is not impossible but the wise uncle, who has an +excellent scent at discovery and no small opinion of his own acuteness, +may find out that Henley himself was the forger of this letter; that it +was a collusion between him and the lad, that he has himself removed +both the lad and the aunt, and that his charity is a farce. I say such +an event is possible. You may be sure that the idea shall be wholly his +own, and that I will allow him all the just praise which he will +graciously bestow upon his penetration. + +My directions to the lad were to bring the packet immediately to you; +which packet you will find to be blank paper, for I had no time for any +thing more, except a short note of which the following is a copy. + +An event which I have not leisure to relate occasions me to send you +this by a special messenger. You will most probably receive a letter +express from me before he arrives, but if not detain him carefully. +Hint not a word of the matter, but make a pretext of urgent business +concerning me, for the issue of which he must wait. At all events do +not let him escape, till you hear further from, + +C. CLIFTON + + +I was obliged to pretend extreme hurry to the lad, but I gave my valet +private instructions to take him round, and use as much delay as he +conveniently could. Meanwhile I will send the letter I am now writing +away express, that you may be fully prepared; for this is a point of +infinite consequence. If you are not in Paris the express is to follow +you; and you will be kind enough to take measures that the lad may +follow the express. He is ordered to wait your commands, which I told +him might possibly detain him a month, or even more; though it might +happen that the business would be transacted in a week. + +Not that I can hope the real business can now possibly be so soon +finished. + +You will take care to make your account agree with mine; and +circumstances oblige me to require of you, Fairfax, to condescend to +get the lad's favour, and not make his stay irksome. You may command me +to ten times this amount, as you know. + +This is a melancholy scene, and a gloomy house, and a dismal country; +and I myself am fretful, and moody, and mad, and miserable. I shall +soon get into action, and then it will wear off. + +I will have her; ay, by the infernals will I! And on my own terms. I +know she is rejoicing now in her Henley. Eternal curses bite him! But I +will haunt her! I will appear to her in her dreams, and her waking +hours shall not want a glimpse of me. I know she hates me. So be it! If +she did not I could not so readily digest my vengeance. But I know she +does! And she shall have better cause! I never yet submitted to be thus +baffled. She is preparing an imaginary banquet, and I will be there a +real guest. I will meet her at Philippi! + +I wish I were away from this place! I wish I were in my mother's +coffin! + +I hate to meet this insolent sister of mine. We have had a battle, and +I was in such a frantic rage that I could neither find ideas nor words; +while she was cool, cutting, insolent, impudent--! I never in my life +had so strong an inclination to wring a hussey's neck round. + +But I will get away as fast as I can. I am resolved however to turn her +out of the house first. She shall feel me too, before I have done. +Brother with her is no tie, nor shall sister be to me. Her mother has +made but a small provision for her, and has recommended her to my +mercy. She had better have taught her a little humility-- + +Plagues and pestilence! Why do I worry myself about her? I have quite +causes enough of distraction without that. I must not turn her out of +doors neither, now I remember. If I did she would fly to her friend, +and would make her if possible as great a fury as herself. + +Why do I say would make? Do I not know that I am her abhorrence? I +loved her, Fairfax, better than ever I loved woman; and would have +loved her more, have loved her entirely, infinitely, heart and soul, if +she had not wronged me. From the first I was overlooked by her, +catechised, reprimanded, treated like a poor ignoramus; while her +Henley--! If I write any more I shall go mad!--Dash through the window, +or do some desperate act!-- + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CII + +_Sir Arthur St. Ives to Abimelech Henley_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Mr. Henley, + +Sir, I have received your letter, which I must acknowledge is far more +satisfactory and in a more proper style than your last, at which I +cannot but own I was exceedingly surprised. + +With respect to your son, I must say that he is a young gentleman of +very great merit; and though a marriage into the family of St. Ives is +a thing that he certainly has no right to expect, yet I cannot deny +that your proposal deserves some consideration; inasmuch as you now +come forward like a man, and have likewise a recollection of propriety. + +Neither do I forget, good sir, what you have hinted concerning +Wenbourne-Hill, which is far from disagreeable to me. And though there +are many impediments, for which I cannot altogether answer just at +present, yet I think it very probable that this affair should end in +something like the manner you desire. I accordingly expect, Mr. Henley, +you will have the kindness to stop proceedings relative to the +foreclosures. + +In return for which I assure you, on my honour, I will do everything +that becomes a gentleman to bring the affair to a proper conclusion. +And as I have a very great respect for your son, and think very highly +of his parts, and learning, and all that, I find when things come to be +considered that he perhaps may make my daughter more happy, and the +match may have other greater conveniences than perhaps one that might +seem to the other branches of my family more suitable. + +But I know that for the present it will be opposed by Lord Fitz-Allen; +and though I do not think proper to be governed by him or any man, yet +I could rather wish not to come to an open rupture with so near a +relation. + +It will perhaps be thought derogatory by some other branches of the +family. But my daughter has a very high opinion of the good qualities +of your son; and she reminds me continually that he has done us many +signal services, which I assure you, Mr. Henley, I am very willing to +remember. + +When things shall be in a proper train, I imagine it will be our best +way of proceeding to pay off all mortgages on Wenbourne-Hill, together +with the sum for the docking of the entail to my son Edward, and to +settle the estate in reversion on our children and their issue; my +rental being made subject to the payment of legal interest to your son +for the fifty thousand pounds. But we will consider further on these +things when matters are ripe. + +In the mean time, be pleased to send me up one thousand pounds for +present current expences, which you will place to account. And now I +hope, good sir, we shall from this time be upon proper terms: in +expectation of which I remain with all friendly intentions, + +A. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Oh that I could write to my Louisa as formerly, with flattering and +generous hopes in favour of a brother! Would it were possible! I am +already weary of accusation, though I fear this is but its beginning. I +cannot help it, but I have strong apprehensions. Not that I will be the +slave of fear, or sink before danger should it happen to come. + +The lad that copied the anonymous letter has left Wenbourne-Hill! Is +run away! No one knows whither! He went the very day on which your +brother left London, to be present with you at Mrs. Clifton's funeral; +and Clifton now denies, with pretended indignation, having had any +knowledge whatever of this letter!--Oh how audacious is he in error! +Had the same energy but a worthy object, how excellent would be its +effects! + +It is a strange circumstance! And what is more strange and indeed +alarming, Frank has been to enquire for the lad's aunt, and she is +gone! No one can tell what is become of her, except that she went away +in a hackney-coach, after having as the people suppose received a +present; because she discharged all her little debts contracted during +the absence of Frank, and bought herself some necessaries. + +What can this sudden and unaccountable removal of these two people +mean? They had both apparently the strongest motives to the contrary; +and Frank has a very good opinion of the lad, and not a bad one of the +aunt. + +This is not all. We were yesterday invited to dine with Lord +Fitz-Allen; that is I and Sir Arthur, not Frank Henley, as you will +suppose. I had a dislike to the visit, though I did not suspect it +would have been half so disagreeable. My brother and my aunt Wenbourne +were likewise invited; we found them there. + +Ever since the scene with Mr. Clifton I have been constantly denied to +him, and positively refused all his applications for an interview; +conceiving it to be just not to let him imagine there was any doubt on +my mind, relative to his proceedings and their motives. We had scarcely +sat down to table before he came in, as if by accident. This was a +subterfuge. To what will not error and the abandonment of the passions +submit? + +After apologies for dropping in and disturbing so much good company, +and a repetition of--I am very glad to see you, sir; you do my table +honour, and other like marked compliments from Lord Fitz-Allen, Clifton +seated himself and endeavoured to assume his former gaiety and humour. +But it could not be--His heart was too ill at ease. His eye was +continually glancing toward me, and there as often met that steady +regard which he knew not how to support, and by which he was as +continually disconcerted. I did not affect to frown, and to smile would +have been guilt. I put no reproof into my look, except the open-eyed +sobriety of fortitude, springing from a consciousness of right. But +this was insupportable He talked fast, for he wanted to talk away his +sensations, as well as to convince his observers that he was quite at +his ease. I know not how far he was successful, for they laughed as +much when he failed, or more perhaps, than they would have done had his +wit preserved its usual brilliancy. His manner told them he intended to +be jocular, and that was their cue to join chorus. + +Lord Fitz-Allen was very marked in his attentions to him, which were +returned with no less ardour. Clifton indeed evidently laid himself out +to please the whole table; but me least, because with me he had least +hope; and because he found his efforts produced no alteration in that +uniform seriousness on which I had determined. + +As soon as the dessert was served up the servants withdrew, and not one +of them afterward came in till rung for; which I imagine had been +preconcerted. Looks then became more grave, and the conversation soon +dwindled into silence. At last Lord Fitz-Allen, after various hems and +efforts, for he has some fear of me, or rather of what he supposes the +derogatory sufferance of contradiction, addressed himself to me. + +I am sorry to hear, niece, there is a misunderstanding between you +and Mr. Clifton; and as you happen now to be both together, I think +it is a proper opportunity for explanation. You know, Miss St. Ives, +that an alliance with the family of Clifton has always met my +approbation; and I suppose you will not deny me the favour of +listening with patience--Why don't you speak, niece? + +You desired me to listen, sir, and I am silent--Let Mr. Clifton +proceed. + +Clifton after some stammering hesitation began--I know, madam, you have +been prejudiced against me, and have been told very strange things; +very unaccountable things. I cannot tell what answer to make, till I +know perfectly of what I am accused. All I request is to be suffered to +face my accusers, and let Lord Fitz-Allen, or Sir Arthur, or this good +lady [My aunt Wenbourne] or your brother, nay or yourself, though you +think so ill of me, be my judge. I am told something of an anonymous +letter; I know not very well what; but if any good evidence can be +brought of my having written, or caused to be written, or had any +concern whatever in the writing of such a letter, I solemnly pledge +myself to renounce the blessing I so ardently seek without a murmur. + +Lord Fitz-Allen exclaimed nothing could be more gentleman-like. My aunt +Wenbourne owned it was a very proper proposal. Edward thought there +could be no objection to it. Sir Arthur was silent. + +His insidious appeal to justice, and being brought face to face with +his accusers, revived the full picture of the flight of the lad, the +removal of the aunt, and the whole chain of craft and falsehood +connected with these circumstances. It was with difficulty I repressed +feelings that were struggling into indignation--I addressed myself to +Mr. Clifton. + +Then, sir, you coolly and deliberately deny all knowledge of the letter +in question? + +I have told you, madam, that I will suffer Lord Fitz-Allen, yourself, +any person to pass sentence, after having examined witnesses. Answer me +in an open direct manner, Mr. Clifton, without ambiguity. Were you not +the author of that letter? + +I am sorry, madam, to see you so desirous to find me guilty; and I +would even criminate myself to give you pleasure, but that I know I +must then neither hope for your favour nor the countenance of this good +company. I assure you, Lord Fitz-Allen, I assure you, Sir Arthur, and +you, madam, and all, upon my honour I am incapable of what is +attributed to me. + +Do not appeal to my uncle and aunt, Mr. Clifton, but turn this way. Let +your eyes be fixed here. Listen while I read the letter; and then, +without once shrinking from yourself, or me, repeat as you have done, +though in an equivocal manner, upon your honour you are not the author. + +I took the letter from my pocket and began to read. When I came to the +following passage I again repeated--Look at me, Mr. Clifton--'She will +never have the man they mean for her, I can assure you of that; and +what is more, he will never have her.' I proceeded to the end, and then +added--Once more, Mr. Clifton, look at me and repeat--Upon my honour I +was not the inventor and author of those words. + +Louisa--! He did look--! I hope I never shall see man look so +again!--He stared and forced his eyes to do their office, and +repeated--'Upon my honour I was not the inventor and author of +those words.'--He stabbed me to the heart, Louisa!--Can he do +this?--Then what can he not do? He even felt a complacency at the +victory he had obtained, and turning round to Lord Fitz-Allen and +the company again repeated--'Upon my honour I am not the inventor +and author of those words.' + +Lord Fitz-Allen almost crowed with exultation. I am mistaken, niece, +said he, if you do not find there are other people who can write +anonymous letters: people of no honour; upstarts, mongrels, mushrooms, +low contemptible fellows, that would sully the mouth of a Fitz-Allen to +mention. + +The tone of this lordly uncle was so high, Louisa, and his passions so +arrogant, loud, and obstinate, that it was with difficulty I could +recover the fortitude requisite to assert truth and put falsehood to +the blush. I again turned to my opponent. + +Mr. Clifton, I feel at present you are a dangerous man. But I do not +fear you. Observe, sir, I do not fear you--[I turned to my uncle] Sir, +Mr. Clifton caused this letter to be written. But, if there were no +such letter in existence, I have another proof, stronger, more +undeniable of which I imagine you will not doubt when I inform you that +no third person was concerned. It was addressed to myself. It was a +strenuous, bold, unprincipled effort to seduce me. Let the gentleman +again look me in the face and tell me I am guilty of falsehood. + +I spoke with firmness, and Lord Fitz-Allen's features relaxed, and his +eye began to enquire with pain and apprehension. His great fear was of +being convicted to want of penetration. Clifton perceived the feelings +of the company turn upon him with suspicion; but his art, must I add? +his hypocrisy did not fail him. He transformed the confusion he felt +into a look of contrition, and with as much ardour as if it had been +real replied-- + +It is that fatal error which has ruined me, madam, in your good +opinion, and has occasioned you to credit every accusation against me, +however improbable. I confess my guilt. Not guilt of heart, madam; for +honour be my witness, my views were as pure as the words in which they +were uttered. I was at that time dependant on the will of a mother, +whom I loved, and whose memory I revere. My passions were impatient, +and I wished to remove impediments to my happiness which now no longer +exist. I do not pretend to palliate what is unpardonable, and what I +myself condemn as severely as you do; except that I abjure all +dishonourable intentions, and meant as I said to be your husband. The +strongest proof I can give that this was my meaning I now offer, in the +presence of this noble and good company. I require no conditions, I ask +for no fortune except yourself, which is the only blessing I covet in +this life. I will joyfully attend you to the altar whenever you and +your worthy relations shall consent; next week, to-morrow, to-day, this +moment; and should think myself the most favoured, the most happy man +on earth! + +The offer is the offer of a gentleman, Sir Arthur, said Lord +Fitz-Allen. If Mr. Clifton had been guilty of any indecorum, niece, +[Turning to me] you could not require more honourable amends. This is +acting with that dignity which characterizes a man of family, Mrs. +Wenbourne; and as it is impossible for Miss St. Ives to see it in any +other point of view, here the affair will naturally end, and there is +no more to be said. + +I immediately answered--If, sir, by the affair ending here, you +understand any further intercourse between me and Mr. Clifton, I must +not suffer you to continue in such an error. We are and ever must +remain separate. Habit and education have made us two such different +beings, that it would be the excess of folly to suppose marriage could +make us one. + +Miss St. Ives--[My uncle collected all his ideas of rank and grandeur] +Miss St. Ives, you must do me the honour to consider me as the head of +our family, and suffer me to remind you of the respect and obedience +which are due to that head. The proposal now made you I approve. It is +made by a man of family, and I must take the liberty to lay my +injunctions upon you to listen to it in a decorous and proper manner. + +I answered--I am sorry, sir, that our ideas of propriety are so very +opposite. But whether my judgment be right or wrong, as I am the person +to be married to Mr. Clifton, and not your Lordship, my judgment as +well as yours must and ought to be consulted. + +Lord Fitz-Allen could scarcely restrain his anger within the bounds +of his own decorum. He burst into exclamations--Exceedingly well, +miss!--Very proper behaviour to a person of my rank, and your +uncle!--You hear, Sir Arthur!--You hear, Mrs. Wenbourne! You all +hear!--But your motives and inclinations are known, miss: I am sorry +that it would dishonour the tongue of Fitz-Allen to repeat them: and +I cannot help telling you, Sir Arthur, that you have been exceedingly +to blame to admit such a fellow to any familiarity with a woman of rank +and my niece; a fellow better entitled to be her footman than her--I +will not permit the word to pass my lips. + +I felt the cowardice of suffering worth and virtue to be insulted +without a defender, from the fear that I myself should be involved in +the insult, and replied-- + +The gentleman, sir, to whom you have twice alluded in terms of so much +contempt, were he present would smile at your mistake. But there are +more people at this table than myself who have been witnesses how +little he deserves to be spoken of in the language of opprobrium. + +Mr. Clifton appeared eager to be the first to acknowledge Mr. Henley +was a very worthy person. Edward muttered something to the same tune; +and Sir Arthur seemed very willing to have spoken out, but wanted the +courage. He began at Turnham Green, but could get no further. Lord +Fitz-Allen answered-- + +What tell you me of Turnham-Green, Sir Arthur? I was stopped once +myself, by a highwayman, and my footman fired at him, and sent him +packing; but I did not for that reason come home and marry my footman +to my daughter. + +The full image of Frank and his virtues pervaded my mind, my heart +swelled, my thoughts burst from my lips, and I exclaimed--Oh, sir, that +you had a thousand daughters, and that each of them were worthy of such +a footman for a husband! + +Had you beheld this uncle of mine, Louisa! The daughters of the peer +Fitz-Allen married to footmen! The insult was almost agony. The only +antidote to the pain which his countenance excited was the absurdity +and ridicule of the prejudice. But I perceived how vain it was to +expect that in this company the voice of justice should be heard, and I +rose. My aunt rose at the same time, to retire with me; but, +recollecting myself, I turned and thus addressed Lord Fitz-Allen and +Mr. Clifton, alternately: + +That I may not be liable to any just blame from your lordship, or you, +sir, for want of being explicit, you must permit me to repeat--I never +will again admit of the addresses of Mr. Clifton. I have an abhorrence +of the errors in which he is now indulging. He himself has told me what +a mad and vicious act it would be to marry a husband in whom I could +not confide, and I never can confide in him. My persuasion at this +moment of his hypocrisy is such that, could I prevail on myself to the +debasement of putting him to the trial, by pretending to accept his +hand, I am convinced he would refuse. I read his heart. He seeks an +opportunity to revenge imaginary injuries; for I never did, do not, nor +ever can wish him any thing but good. I think I would lay down my life, +without hesitation, to render him all of which his uncommon powers are +capable: but I perceive the impossibility of its being effected by me, +and I here ultimately and determinedly renounce all thought of him, or +of so dangerous an attempt. + +Mr. Clifton eagerly started up, and with a momentary softening of +countenance, a pleading voice, and something like the tone of returning +virtue exclaimed--Hear me, madam!--I conjure you, hear me! My appeal is +to the benevolence, the dignity of your heart! Remember the virtuous +plan you had formed--! + +The combat in his mind was violent but short. Truth made a struggle to +gain the mastery, and hope raised up a transient prospect of success, +which was as quickly overclouded by anger and despair, and he stopped +abruptly. At least his voice and features were so impassioned that, if +these were not his sensations, I have no clue to the human heart. +Perceiving him pause and doubt, I replied-- + +It cannot be, Mr. Clifton! You this moment feel it cannot! You have +begun a course of fraud, and which the whole arrangement of to-day is +only meant as so much pitiful machinery to effect. You are conscious, +Mr. Clifton, you are conscious, Lord Fitz-Allen, that our meeting was +not, as you have both pretended, accidental. And I here call upon +you--you, Mr. Clifton, to tell for what purpose or where you have sent +the lad who wrote the letter, and to what place you have removed his +aunt? Such an artifice is vile, sir! And to challenge your accusers to +stand forward, and with a look such as you assumed to affirm, 'Upon +your honour you were not the inventor and author of the letter,' is so +much more vile that I shudder for you! Your own proceedings have +conjured up a train of recollections that speak a concerted plan of +perfidy. You mean mischief! But I once more tell you, sir, I do not +fear you! I will not fear you! My fears indeed are strong, but they +are for yourself. Beware! The more guilt you have committed, the more +you will be driven to commit. Turn back! You are in a dreadful path! +It is unworthy of you, Mr. Clifton! It is unworthy of you! + +I instantly withdrew, and was followed by Mrs. Wenbourne, who began to +express something like blame of the positive manner in which I had +spoken, and the high language I had used to Lord Fitz-Allen; but it was +too feeble to incite an answer in my then state of mind. I requested +she would order her carriage, and set me down. She asked if I would not +first pay my respects to my uncle. I answered yes, when my uncle should +be more deserving of respect. She said I was a strange young lady. I +replied I sincerely hoped there were many young ladies stranger even +than I. + +She took offence at these retorts upon her words, and I perceived that, +though the spirit of my answer was right, the manner was wrong; and +explained and apologised as became me. She was appeased, and when the +carriage came again asked if I would not go with her to take leave. I +answered I imagined my uncle would be glad to wave the ceremony; and, +as I thought he had acted very improperly, curtsying and taking leave +would but be practising the customary hypocrisy of our manners, which I +hoped I should on all occasions have the firmness to oppose. + +Accordingly my aunt went herself; and his lordship, still preserving +his dignity, pretended to forbid me his presence, till I better +understood what was due to the relationship and rank in which he stood. +This my aunt reported, and I returned no answer, but left her to make +her own reflections. + +Thus ended this painful interview--Tell me, what ought I to think? What +can be the purport of a conduct so very wrong? Such a string of +falsehoods! How different would the behaviour of Mr. Clifton have been, +had not conscious criminality oppressed and chained up his faculties! +Such persistence in duplicity must have some end in view. Could I +consent to marriage, which is now utterly impossible, he has certainly +no such meaning. If he had he could not have written, he could not have +acted as he has done; and even less in this last instance since his +writing than before, for he could not but know that, though he could +appear this generous man of honour to Lord Fitz-Allen, he must stand +detected by me. It was not possible he should suppose otherwise. + +Well! Let him mean me all the harm he pleases; only let me find some +opportunity of convincing him what a depraved, unmanly, trivial turn +his mind has taken, and let me but give it a different bent, and I will +willingly suffer all he shall have the power to inflict. I do not find +myself, Louisa, disposed to stand in that dread of baseness and +violence which they generally inspire. Virtue is not a passive but an +active quality; and its fortitude is much more potent than the rash +vehemence of vice. + +Adieu, dear Louisa. Peace and felicity guard you! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CIV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Thank you, Fairfax, for your speed and precautions, which I must +request you not to slacken. Do not let the lad escape you: his +appearance here would be ruin. Let but my grand scheme be completed, +and then I care not though the legions of hell were to rise, and mow +and run a tilt at me. I would face their whole fury. The scene would +delight me. Let them come all! I burn to turn upon and rend them! The +more desperate the more grateful. + +I told you, Fairfax, she hated me! I have it now from her own mouth! +She feels I am become her foe! My hand is already upon her! My deepest +darkest thoughts of vengeance do not exceed her imagination. + +And yet she fears me not! He; words, her looks, her gestures are all +cool, firm defiance! She is a miracle, Fairfax! A miracle! But I will +overmatch her. A heroine! She would have unhorsed Orlando himself had +she lived in the times of the knights Paladin. + +I am an insufferable booby, an eternal lunatic, for having first +thought of quarrelling with her. But it is too late! I might have +foreseen the advantages I give a woman like her. She openly, +magnanimously tells me what my intents are, and then spurns at them. +She keeps her anger under indeed, but does not repress its energy; a +proof of the subjection in which she holds her passions. She once +endeavoured to teach me this art, would I but have listened. But that +is past! + +I could not have thought it was in woman! The poor, wailing, +watery-eyed beings I had before encountered would not suffer me to +suppose a female could possess the high courage of the daring, noble +mind. Never but one short moment did I overtop her: nor are there any +means but those I then used. Inspire her with the dread of offending +what she thinks principle, and she becomes a coward! + +But I will rouse! I will soar above her, will subdue her, will have her +prostrate in humble submission, or perish! In the presence of witnesses +I feel I cannot succeed; but singly, face to face, passion to passion, +and being to being, distinct and eminent as she stands above all +woman-kind, I will yet prove to her she is not the equal of the man +Clifton. + +She herself has even thrown the gauntlet. I have had such a scene with +her! A public exhibition! I cannot relate the manner of it. I dare not +trust my brain with the full reminiscence. + +Why did I quarrel with her? She meant me well--Tortures!--I am a +lunatic to tease myself with such recollections. This is a damned, +wrong headed, ignorant, blundering, vile world; and I cannot see my way +in it. I should have had no suspicion that it is all this but for her. + +That Henley shall never have her! I'll murder him first! Though the +bottomless pit were to gape and swallow me, he shall not have her! The +contemptible buzzard, Sir Arthur, is now completely veered about. But +in vain! It shall not be! By hell it shall not! + +This fellow, this Henley must some how or other be disposed of. The +contempt of the arrogant peer, her uncle, will harm him but little; for +the lord, with all his dignity, is no match for the plebeian! + +Neither will his lordship hastily seek another combat with his niece. +The only advantage I have, in so insignificant an ally, is that of +hereafter making suspicion alight on Henley, and not on me; for I mean +to carry them both off, Henley and Anna. I know not where or how I +shall yet dispose of them, but there is no other mode of accomplishing +vengeance. They must be confined too. I care not how desperate the +means! I will not retract! They shall be taught the danger of raising +up an enemy like me! I will have them at my feet! Will separate them! +Will glut my revenge, and do the deed that shall prevent their ever +meeting more, except perhaps to reproach each other with the madness of +having injured, aggravated, and defied a Clifton! + +My whole days are dedicated to this single object. I have been riding +round the skirts of this shapeless monster of a city, on all sides, in +search of lonely tenantless houses; some two of which I mean to provide +with inhabitants. I have met with more than one that are not ill +situated. + +But I want agents! Desperados! Hungry and old traders in violence! I +care not where I go for them; have them I will, though I seek them in +the purlieus of infamy and detestation. To succeed by any other means +is impossible. She will not admit me in the same apartment with +herself, nor I believe in the same world, had she the power to exclude +me. + +I met her indeed at Lord Fitz-Allen's, where the scene abovementioned +passed; but it was a plan concerted with his lordship, which she easily +detected, and publicly reproached him with his duplicity. I gloried to +hear her; for she had not injured him. A poor compound of pride and +selfishness! Incapable of understanding the worth of such a niece! But +she made him feel his own insignificance. + +Henley and she are now never asunder. I have mentioned the maid Laura +to you. She tells me they have long conversations in the morning, long +walks in the afternoon, and at night they have neither of them the +power to rise and separate. But I will come upon them! My spirit at +present is haunting them, never leaves them, girds at and terrifies +them at every instant, during their amorous dalliance! I know it does! +They cannot get quit of me! I am with them, weighing them down, +convulsing them! They feel they are in my gripe!--Hah! The thought is +heart's ease. + +When there is no company, and when Sir Arthur is not sitting with them, +this maid, Laura, has that honour. Whence it appears that even these +immaculate souls have some dread of scandal. + +And who is it inspires that dread? It is I! They seem to have +discovered that all circumstances, all incidents wear a double face and +that I am the malignant genius who can make which he pleases the true +one--Yes! I am with them! I send the Incubus that hag-rides them in +their dreams! They gasp and would awake, but cannot! + +Why could she not have bestowed all this affection upon me? Why could +she not? I once thought a woman might have loved me!--But it seems I +was mistaken--The things that go by the general name of woman might; +but when I came to woman herself, she could not, though she tried. + +Would I were any where but in this infernal gloom! It is a detestable +country! This town is one everlasting fog, and its inhabitants are as +cloudy as its skies! Every man broods over some solitary scheme of his +own, avoids human intercourse, and hates to communicate the murk of his +mind. I am in a wilderness. I fly the herd, and the herd flies me. We +pass and scowl enmity at each other, for I begin to look with +abhorrence on the face of man. There is not a single gleam of +cheerfulness around me. The sun has not once shone since the day of my +disappointment, which was itself thick darkness. + +Would I could get rid of myself!--I am going to take a ride, and make a +second examination of a large lonely house beyond Knightsbridge. It +lies to the left, and is at a sufficient distance from the road. I +think it will suit my purpose. I must not have far to convey them; and +Laura informs me their walks are most frequently directed through +Hyde-Park, and among the fields at the back of Brompton. + +I must be as quiet and appear as little myself as possible; for which +reason I ride without a servant. And though I have been industrious in +reading advertisements, and getting intelligence of empty houses, I +have not ventured to enquire personally. Laura attends them in their +walks; but she is secure. + +They must both be seized at the same time, and in a manner that shall +frustrate all research. It will then be concluded they have gone off +together. He is a powerful fellow, a dangerous fellow, and I must be +well provided. He shall never have her, Fairfax! I would die upon the +wheel, hang like a negro, and parch alive in the sun ere he should have +her! + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. All society is become odious to me, but chiefly that society which +I am obliged to frequent. This uncle Fitz-Allen, aunt Wenbourne, and +brother Edward are three such poor beings, and the censures they pass +on a woman who is of an order so much above them are so vapid, so +selfish, or so absurd, that it is nauseating to sit and listen to them. +Yet these are the animals I am obliged to court! Hypocrisy is a damned +trade, Fairfax; and I will have full vengeance for having been forced +upon such a practice. The only present relief I have is to make the +arrogant peer foam with the idea of his relationship to a gardener's +son. This would be an exquisite pleasure, but that it is millions of +times more maddening to me than to him! + + + + +LETTER CV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +Abimelech is come up to town. I am obliged very respectfully to call +him Mr. Henley when Sir Arthur hears me, in compliance to his feelings: +and he has hinted that hereafter, when his name is written, it must be +tagged with an esquire. + +The old miser [Well, Louisa, let it be the old gentleman] is so eager +in pursuit of his project that he can take no rest, and is unwilling +Sir Arthur should take any. He has a prodigious quantity of cunning! +Whatever he may know of the theory of the passions as a general +subject, no person certainly knows better how to work upon the passions +of Sir Arthur: at least no person who will condescend to take such an +advantage. His discourse is such a continued mixture of Wenbourne-Hill, +his money, mortgages, grottos, groves, the wherewithals, and the young +gentleman his son, that laughter scarcely can hold to hear him. Were +the thing practicable, he would render Frank Henley himself ridiculous. + +It is pleasant to remark what a check the presence of this favourite +son is upon his loquacity. He never suspects the possibility of there +being a mortal superior to himself at other times; whereas he has then +a latent consciousness of his own ridicule. The effect which the +absence of Frank has produced, with the favour he is in with me, and +the resolute manner in which he conquered his father when he last went +down to Wenbourne-Hill, have made a total change in the old man's +behaviour to this formerly neglected but now half adored son. Were +habits so inveterate capable of being eradicated, Frank would yet teach +him virtue; but the task is too difficult. + +He is certainly in a most delicious trance. His son to be married to +the daughter of his master! That master a baronet! And the estates of +that baronet to be his own, as he supposes, to all eternity. For the +avaricious dreams of selfishness are satisfied with nothing less. These +are joys that swell and enlarge even his narrow heart, into something +that endeavours to mimic urbanity. + +Whenever Sir Arthur mentions Lord Fitz-Allen, or the family consent, +honest Aby in a moment conjures up Wenbourne-Hill, a hermitage, and a +wilderness; and for the first day, if he found that dose not strong +enough to produce its effect, foreclosures were added to the mixture. +Your own heart, Louisa, will tell you what Frank's feelings were at +such a mean menace; and, though to stop his garrulity entirely was not +in the power of man, he determined to silence him on that subject. But +the cunning Abimelech turned even this incident to advantage, by taking +care to inform Sir Arthur of Frank's generosity. + +Thus, Louisa, things are at present in a train which some months ago I +should indeed very little have expected. But such are the energies of +virtue! How changed at present do all surrounding objects seem! To me +they were never dark; but they were not always pleasant. They are now +all cheerfulness and perspicacity. We have the most charming walks and +the most delightful conversations, Louisa; and on subjects so +expansive, so sublime--! Often do I say--'Why is my friend not with us? +Why does she not come and bear her part in discussion? She whose mind +is so penetrating and whose thoughts are so grand?' But we shall meet! +Days and years of happiness are before us! The prospect is rapture! +Yes, Louisa, we shall meet, and I hope quickly! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CVI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Join chorus and rejoice with me, Fairfax, for I feel something like a +transient hilarity of heart. I think I am half in a temper to tell my +tale as it ought to be told. Time was when it would have been pregnant +with humour. + +The very master-devil that I wanted has appeared to me, and we have +signed and consigned ourselves over to the great work of mutual +vengeance! Be patient and you shall hear the manner of it. Two nights +ago I was at the theatre. The king was there; Garrick played; the crowd +was great, and no places were to be procured. During the first act I +and two more stood elbowing each other at the door of one of the front +boxes, the seats of which were all full. The person who was next me was +hard-favoured, had a look of audacious impudence, with that mixture of +dress which forms the vulgar genteel, and spoke the brogue. + +The act being over the audience rose, and my gentleman, with the +nonchalance assurance of his character, a total disregard of the +feelings and convenience of others, and an entire complaisance for his +own, stepped forward into the second seat from the door, on which there +were previously four people, its full compliment. But he had noticed +they were not all so athletic as himself, and was determined to make +them sit close. + +The persons next him, observing his redoubtable look, hesitated for a +moment, but at length began to remonstrate. They addressed him two or +three times without his deigning to appear to hear them; till, either +encouraged by his silence or warmed by vexation, they spoke loud enough +to call the attention of the people around them. + +The Hibernian then sat himself down, threw his arm over the railing +of the box, and his body in a careless posture, and very coolly +answered--'Pray now be asy, and don't disturb the good company.' + +A squabble ensued, and the Irishman continued to answer them with the +utmost contempt. In a short time two of them gained courage enough to +threaten to turn him out; to which he replied--'Oh! By the sweet Jasus +but I should be glad to see the pretty boy that would dare to lay a +little finger upon me!' + +After another wrangle, and treating their reasonings and half menaces +with the most contemptuous disregard, a gentleman from the next box +interfered, and observed it certainly was very improper behaviour. The +Irishman turned round, surveyed him from head to foot, and answered--'I +find you have all got your quarrelling tackle on board to night; and so +as I must fight somebody, and as you, mister, appear to be the most of +a gintleman, why I will talk to you when the play is over. For which +raison sit down, and make all yourselves asy.' + +The beginning of the second act and the impatience of the house to hear +their favourite soon imposed silence, and the Irishman kept his seat. + +I was so much diverted by the complete impudence of the fellow, that +though one of the box-keepers had found me a place, I determined to +return, and see how this petty brawl was to end. Accordingly I took +care to be round in time, before the curtain dropped; till which the +hero of it had kept quiet possession of his usurped seat. + +The moment the audience rose he turned about, and with a look which I +imagine no man but himself could assume, first on this side of him and +next on that, addressed his opponents with--'Now if any of you are +still disordered in the body, and want to lose a little blood, why +follow me.' + +The two persons that sat next to him were both Jews, and one of them +who appeared to have the most spirit had a knotted crab-stick in his +hand, and insisted that the Irishman should not leave the company, till +he had first given satisfaction for the insult he had committed on them +all. The Hibernian replied--'All? Is it all together you mane, or one +after another? Perhaps you don't understand the tools of a gintleman, +and want to box me! Faith and I should have no great objection to that +either, with any half dozen of you, one down and t'other come on. But +you must use no unlawful weapons, my sweet fillow.' + +So saying, he wrested the Jew's crab-stick from him, laid hold of it at +each end, and snapped it in two across the railing of the box; adding +with infinite composure of countenance--'This is an improper plaything +for you, master Jackey, and you might do yourself a damage with it. +Here is half a crown for you. Take it, man, and buy yoursilf a genteel +bit of rattan, to beat the little pug dogs away, when they bark after +you in the street.' + +Insolent as the fellow was, there was no resisting his humour, and the +laugh was general. The vexed Israelite endeavoured to persist, and the +Irishman drew a dirty letter out of his pocket, from the back of which +he tore the direction, and giving it to the angry Jew, said--'If you +have any stomach for a good breakfast tomorrow morning, I shall be at +home; and the hot rolls and butter will be ready at ten.' + +He then strode over the seats and went into the lobby, where he was +followed by the crowd. + +My curiosity was highly excited, and I requested the Jew to let me read +his address. + +Imagine, Fairfax, my surprise at seeing the name of Mac Fane! That is, +of the gambler and bully who some time ago had been attempting to +plunder brother Edward; and who had been so successfully opposed by the +family knight-errant, Henley! Among the busy conjectures of my +fermenting brain concerning the instruments I might happen to want, +should things as they have done come to an extremity, the supposed +qualifications of this hero had more than once passed in review. The +behaviour to which I had this evening been a witness perfectly +confirmed all my former conjectures, which I instantly recollected; I +therefore determined not to lose sight of him. + +Before I knew who he was I had been glad to see the squabble continued, +because it drew out the strong traits of this very eccentric genius; +but I grew impatient to put an end to it the moment I had made the +discovery. + +The thing was not difficult. His character was too desperate and +determined not to inspire fear; and the humour of his phraseology and +brogue made the laugh always on his side. The passions of his opponents +counteracting each other died away. The farce was going to begin, and +he advised them to 'go, and not lose full eighteen pennyworth out of +their five shillings.' + +Finding the morsel was too hard for their digestion, they took his +advice and returned quietly to their seats: while he several times +traversed the lobby, and looked first into one box and then into +another, to let them see that there he was. + +My resolution was formed, and I soon found an opportunity of falling +into conversation with him; and as I took care that my tone should +answer the intended purpose, he presently invited me to adjourn, and +take what he called a bottle and a bird at the Shakespeare. + +The proposal exactly suited me, and away we went. + +He called for a private room, which I should have done if he had not, +though with a very different view. My appearance made him hope he had +caught a gudgeon. He presently began to turn the discourse upon various +kinds of gaming. Billiards, tennis, hazard, and pass-dice, were each of +them mentioned; and, to encourage him, I gave him to understand I knew +them all. He then talked of cards, and asked if I had any objection to +take a hand at picquet; 'just to pass away an hour before supper.' I +answered none. + +Accordingly the waiter was rung for, and the cards were presently upon +the table. + +He proposed playing for a trifle; from one guinea to five; not more; +'becase as why, he was tied up from deep play. He had lost five +thousand pounds within six weeks, and they had had a pretty pigeon of +him!--[Had you but seen the form and features of this pigeon, Fairfax!] +For which raison he must take care and not be plucked any more. It was +the misfortune of his timper not to know when to stop; and there was +not so unlucky a fillow in the three kingdoms. He was always the +bubble, play at what he would, and every snap-jack knew him to be his +mark.' + +Such was the lesson which this fellow had got by rote, and had been +retailing to all comers for years. But I have observed of gamblers that +they cannot forbear rehearsing their own cant even in the company of +each other, and when they are convinced every soul that hears them +knows they are lying. + +I however had my purpose to serve, and we sat down to our game. The +stakes were five guineas a side. According to custom, I won the three +or four first games; and he pretended to curse, and fret, and again ran +over his bead-roll of being pigeoned, plucked bare, bubbled, done up, +and the whole catalogue of like genteel phrases. + +The first game he won he proposed, as luck was perhaps taking a turn in +his favour, to double the stakes, and I indulged him. He suffered me to +win the following game. I say suffered, cheating being taken into the +account; for I am certain that at the fair game I am his master. But +that is no matter. + +The three following games were all his own, and he then began to repeat +the remainder of his part. 'By the blissed Jasus he would not believe +his own eyes! Three games together!' The fellow swore, with one of the +deepest oaths his memory could furnish, such a thing had never happened +to him before in his whole life! 'But now that he was in luck, he would +as soon play for a hundred guineas as for a thirteener.' + +He endeavoured to provoke me to increase the stake; and, by the supper +not coming up, I am convinced the waiter and he understood each other, +and that the signal had been given. I refused to play for a greater +sum, and we continued till he had won fifty guineas, he incessantly +swearing--'By the blissed crook! By the hind leg of the holy lamb! By +Saint Peter's pretty beard!' and by all manner of oaths, some of them +of the most whimsical and others of the most horrible kind, that he had +never been a winner so much before in all his life. From the first ten +guineas that he won to the last it was still the same tune. + +I then rang the bell and ordered supper, thinking the sum sacrificed +quite sufficient; though not more than enough to serve my purpose. + +While we were eating, he endeavoured by all the arts he knew to excite +the passion of gaming in me; and he is a tolerable adept. But my mind +was too intent upon another subject. I watched the moment when he was +at the height of his hopes, which I had purposely encouraged to produce +my intended effect, and then asked him if he did not know Captain St. +Ives? + +Impudent as the fellow is, his countenance for a moment was fixed, his +mouth open, and his eye struggling to get rid of alarm, that it might +begin its enquiries. I followed up my blow by adding-- + +You won three thousand guineas of him I think, Mr. Mac Fane, which I am +told were never paid-- + +The fellow put his hand into a side-pocket, which he had in the body of +his coat. I instantly suspected he had a small pair of pistols there, +and my suspicions were afterward confirmed. He drew it back, having +satisfied himself that they were actually forth-coming, and then +recovered himself so far as to ask-- + +Pray, sir, are you acquainted with Captain St. Ives?-- + +I am, sir, answered I--I likewise know Mr. Henley. + +You do, sir? said the astonished Mac Fane. + +I do, sir. I am intimate with Sir Arthur St. Ives, and he is the son of +his gardener: a low fellow that acts as the baronet's man of all work; +his steward, his overseer, and his cash-keeper. + +This contempt thrown on the character of Henley gave the Irishman some +relief. By the holy poker, said Mac Fane, but I always thought he was a +spalpeen, and no gintleman! + +I think you have no great cause to like him much, sir, continued I, +from the account that I have heard. + +His choler began to rise, and his eyes assumed an uncommon ferocity. +Like him! Sweet Jasus snatch me out of the world if I don't pay off an +old score with him yet, before I die. + +I thought as much, sir, answered I. + +Sir! Replied he, again staring with reviving alarm and suspicion-- + +I continued.--To tell you the truth, Mr. Mac Fane, that is the very +subject which brought you and I into company this evening. I suspected +your hate of Henley, and to be sincere I hate him too. + +Had you seen the fellow's face brighten, Fairfax, and after brightening +begin to flame, you would not have readily forgotten the picture. + +But I am rather surprised to meet you in public, sir, added I. + +What do you mane by that, sir? + +I thought you deemed it prudent to keep out of the way, on account of +that affair? + +I felt some gratification in playing thus upon his fears--He now once +more put his hand into his side-pocket, and pulling out his pistols +laid them before him. By Jasus, sir, I don't very well know what you +would be at! But when I understand the full tote of your questions, I +shall know how to give an answer. + +I could not very well digest this oblique menace; but to have +quarrelled with such a rascal would in every sense have been madness. +You have a well-mounted pair of pistols there, said I, Mr. Mac Fane. +I'll bet you the fifty guineas, double or quit, I break this china +plate at the first shot, ten paces distant. + +By the great grumbler, answered he, but I'll bet you don't! immediately +delivering me one pistol, and taking up and unlocking the other +himself. Accordingly I placed the plate against the wall, fired, and +was not far from the centre. Upon my honour and soul, sir, said Mac +Fane, but I find you are a good shot, and I shall be glad to be better +acquainted with you. + +Having convinced him that I could hit a mark as well as himself, I +returned to the subject of Henley; and though I could not bring him to +be explicit, I learned from him that he was acquainted with Henley's +aversion to prosecute, but does not know on what that aversion is +founded. Beside which he confides in a want of witnesses, as I could +perceive: except that he has some fear of his accomplice, Webb; a man +in whose company this very Mac Fane once attempted to rob Sir Arthur, +and whom I suspect he would impeach, but that it would ruin all his +gambling views. For he has found means of associating with that whole +class of young fools of fortune, whose perverted education leads them +to take pleasure in the impudence and humour of such a fellow, as well +as in seeing each other stripped and ruined by turns; but who would +never admit him as a companion, did they know he had been guilty of an +act so desperate as that of going on the highway. Scarcely any thing +short of this can expel such a fellow from such society. + +But though he thinks himself secure in consequence of the lenity of +Henley, he hates him as sincerely as if he were pursuing him to the +gallows. The loss of the three thousand guineas is one great motive; +and another is that he felt he was out-braved by Henley, whom he could +not terrify, but who on the contrary terrified him. + +I found he had even formed a scheme of petty vengeance, which was to +waylay Henley with some bruising fellows of his acquaintance, for he is +acquainted with daring villains of all descriptions, one of whom was to +insult, provoke him to fight, and beat him, while Mac Fane himself +should keep at some distance, disguised. + +It was with some difficulty I could persuade him to desist from this +plan, and join in projects of my own. But at last however he was +convinced that to rob him of his mistress, and awaken him from all his +dreams of imaginary bliss to the torture I am preparing, would be +more effectual revenge than a paltry beating. Not to mention that I +firmly believe, instead of being beaten, he would conquer the best +prize-fighter they could bring; for he is really a powerful and +extraordinary fellow. + +But you will perceive, Fairfax, I was obliged to inform him of a part +of my own views; and that I might fix him I determined to bid high. I +told him I had Henley and another person to secure; and that if he +would aid me himself and provide other assistants to act under his +directions, without seeing or being informed of me, I would give him a +thousand guineas as soon as all this should be perfectly accomplished. +And, as an earnest of my generosity, I put down the fifty guineas; +saying that the wager I had made with him was not a fair one, for that +it was fifty guineas to a straw in my favour: he had no chance of +winning. + +He was quite satisfied with my offer, strengthened as it was by the +gratification of his own passions. I told him what a puissant hero +Henley is, and of the necessity of coming upon him by surprise. I told +him I had seen a house, as before described, beyond Knightsbridge, +which pleased me; but that I could not find another near enough, in +which to secure Henley. + +The geography of the place I mentioned seemed to start an idea in his +mind, and he told me, if I would meet him in two days at the same +tavern, he would in the mean time not only make preparations and +procure assistants, but perhaps bring me further intelligence. As +the fellow's brain seemed busy, I did not wish to rob him of the +self-satisfaction of invention, and we accordingly parted, making +the appointment he proposed. + +Of all existing beings, he perhaps was the only one who could in a +country like this become the proper instrument of my revenge. And yet, +Fairfax, he is a hateful fellow! His language, his looks, his manners, +his passions, are all hateful! Courage excepted, there is not a single +trait in him but what is abominable! He delights in talking of hocking +men, chalking them, and cutting them down! Every time his anger rises +against any one, these are its attendant ideas. Such a fellow must come +to some tragical end. He can never die of old age, and scarcely of +disease. Nothing but the lead and steel in which he delights can end +him. + +So it is, and I have no remedy. But he shall be to me no more than an +implement, with which I will carve the coming banquet. + +How minute are the chances and events on which we depend! A few slight +alterations of incident, and how different would have been the train of +my thoughts! She might have been happy with me, for I loved her, +Fairfax. I loved her. I feel it more and more; and were but +circumstances a little more favourable, I believe I should turn about +and take a contrary path. + +But it cannot be! The barrier is insurmountable! An adamantine wall, +reaching to the skies! I remember what she said, at her proud uncle's +table--'I have an abhorrence, Mr. Clifton, of the errors in which you +are now indulging.'--Abhorrence was the word, Fairfax!--It has been at +my tongue's end ever since--And when she talked of my errors she meant +me.--'I ultimately and determinedly renounce all thought of him!'--This +was her language! I knew before which way her heart went; and can I +suppose, now she has got a fair excuse, that she will not profit by it? +Oh no! I am not so ill read as that in the passions. But I have said +the word--They shall never come together!--They never never shall! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CVII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +I have received your dissuasive epistle, Fairfax. It found me moody and +did not contribute to make me merry. To own the truth, no ghost need +rise to tell me the methods I use are inclined to the violent. Can you +find me better? Nay can you find any other? I care not for +consequences; I brave them all. + +Time was that I could have been happy with her! Ay and should, but for +this fiend Henley. He sleeps securely! Let him sleep on! I will soon +awaken him! + +I thought I should have been tortured but by one chief passion, and +that the love of vengeance would have enveloped me wholly: but they are +all devouring me by turns. I certainly hate her, and him I abhor. Yet +pictures of imaginary happiness, that might have been, are continually +rising, and vanishing in gloomy regret. He too, at the very moment that +I could murder him, I am obliged to admire! + +Still he shall not have her! Though death overtake him, her and me, he +shall not have her! But what is death? A thing to covet, not to dread. +'Tis existence only that is hateful!--Would that my bones were now +mouldering!--Why have I brains and nerves and sensibilities?--Oh that I +were in the poisonous desert, where I might gulp mephitic winds and +drop dead; or in a moment be buried in tornados of burning sand! Would +that my scull were grinning there, and blanching; rather than as it is +consciously parching, scorched by fires itself has kindled! + +I spent all yesterday with that Irish scoundrel. Malignity is his +element, and mischief his delight! I suspect by his assiduity that he +is poor just at present; for a more industrious demon black Cocytus +does not yield. He is already provided with associates, and has found +another principal agent for the great work. It is a strange expedient! +But these are strange fellows! And yet it is a lucky one; superior to +any that I had projected. + +When I mentioned the Knightsbridge road at our first interview, Mac +Fane recollected that an intimate of his had just set up what was to +him a new trade, in the neighbourhood; that of being the keeper of a +madhouse. He determined to go and propose the business to him; and as +the fellow was preparing to advertise for lunatics, but had not yet got +a single patient, there was a complete opening for such a plan. + +He proposed taking me to see this intended guardian of maniacs, and his +house; and I ordered a post-chaise for that purpose, that I might hide +myself in one corner of it, and not let a living soul detect me with +such a companion. + +As we were going, I enquired if this keeper were an Irishman? He took +offence, and retorted--'What did I mane by an Irishman? Becase he is a +rogue you think he is an Irishman! By the holy carpenter you need not +come to Ireland for that kind of ware! You have a viry pritty breed of +rogues of your own! But he is not Irish. He is one of your own sulky +English bugs.' + +The description was not inapplicable, for I think I never beheld a more +lowering, black-browed, evil-eyed fellow, since the hour I first saw +light. He had all the gloom of the most irrascible bulldog, but without +his generous courage. He seemed more proper to make men mad than cure +them of madness. But he had two excellent qualities for my purpose; +poverty and a disposition to all ill. + +I am got into excellent company! But I care not! I will on! All this +seems as if it were but the prologue to the tragedy. But be it that, or +be it what it will--I care nothing for myself; and I have little cause +to care more for them. She never had any mercy on me; and least this +last interview, when I was pleading before her pompous uncle. + +I have been obliged to hold consultations with these Satanic rascals, +to concert ways and means. The most secure we have been able to devise, +relative to Henley, is to have a straight waistcoat, to come upon him +suddenly, and to encrust him in it before he shall know what we are +about. This with a gag will make him safe. But there must not be less +than four fellows, and those stout ones. Nothing must be left to +chance. + +Three more must be provided for the lady, of whom Mac Fane himself +proposes to be one. But he means to keep out of sight of Henley, till +he is in custody. + +I have various preparations yet to make. Mac Fane is to go and hire me +the empty house tomorrow. It is furnished; but it must be aired, for I +would not have her die a paltry catch-cold death. I would treat her +like a gentlewoman in every respect but one; and in that I will have as +little compassion on her as she has had on me. + +It might have been otherwise! I came to her a generous lover! I saw her +and was amazed at her beauties, captivated by her enchanting manners, +soothed by her unvaried sweetness! But this sweetness she has turned to +gall! I adored her, and was prepared eternally to adore! But injury +followed injury in such quick succession that apathy itself called +aloud for vengeance! + +I own it is true what she said at her uncle's, that I had made a +resolution not to marry her. But what were my resolutions? She herself +could not but feel she had the power to break them all. But she had not +the will, Fairfax! It rankles there! She hates me, and what is more +damnable she loves another! + +I must turn my thoughts again to this detested mad-house man, and +the scenery around it. All the avenues must be examined, and all the +bye-paths and open roads that lead toward both houses inspected, that +Mac Fane and his emissaries may make no blunder. I will if possible +keep out of the action, but I will be near at hand. + +I have a secret wish, the moment all is over, to fly the odious scene; +for horribly odious it will be: but it would have the appearance of +cowardice. It must end tragically! Not even the poor creatures who +stand in the place of her natural guardians, tame as they are, can +suffer such an insult. Yet which of them dare look me in the face, and +call himself my enemy? And, after injuring her, shall I hesitate at +trampling upon them? + +I must steel my heart, Fairfax, when I go to the encounter; must +recapitulate all my wrongs. I have them noted down severally as they +occurred! I need but read to rage! What do I talk?--Read?--Can I forget +them? No; night nor day! They are my familiars. They wake with me, +sleep with me, walk with me, ride with me, glower with me, curse with +me--but never smile with me. They are become my dearest intimates. I +cherish and hug them to my heart! Their biting is my only pleasure! + +I cannot forget this keeper. He is a foul-faced fellow! Has a wry look; +a dogged, dungeon hue; of the deepest dusk and progeny of Beelzebub! I +wonder by whom, where, and why such fellows are begotten! + +There are horrid villains in the world! Villains by trade; that never +felt the strong impulse of high-minded passion; that could breakfast in +an hospital, dine in a slaughter-house, and sup in the sanguinary field +of battle, listening to the groans of the mangled; or toss them on the +point of forks, to smelt in a heap! I have heard her talk something of +these depraved natures, and of the times when they are all to be +humanised. Can you conjecture when, Fairfax? Yet she said they should +be, and I was half inclined to believe her. + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. I meant to notice that passage in your letter in which you mention +Beaunoir; but I forgot it till this moment. So you are at last inclined +to think Anna St. Ives must be something more than you every day meet, +from the rapturous description of that rodomontade Count? After all I +have written, your faith wanted the seal of such a lunatic? Had you +forgotten that the time was when I would have married her? And did that +say nothing? + +The Count is preparing for England? Let him come! I remember one of his +crazy phrases and claims was that he would be her champion, should ever +base knight attempt to do her harm. Nor have I forgotten his intended +visit, received by Henley. May the winds set fair and blow him quickly +over! Should he have any such frolics in his brain, we shall not be +long in coming to terms. + +This Mac Fane is incessantly importuning me to play, and what is +strange has several times excited the desire in me. I took up the dice +box, after we had been to the mad-house, and threw half a dozen casts +at hazard; but I soon found it was in vain, and checked myself. I know +I have the command of my own temper in that respect. + +I have been reading over this tedious homily, and find it most +ineffably dull. But what is to be done? My gaiety is gone. My high +spirits are converted into black bile. My thoughts are hellebore and +deadly night-shade, and hilarity is for ever poisoned. + + + + +LETTER CVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Have I been unjust to the brother of my friend? Or had my words the +power over him to turn him from a guilty purpose?--Well; rather, ay +infinitely rather let me be a false accuser than he culpable! He seeks +me no more, offers not to molest me, and I hope has forgotten me; at +least has seen the error of endeavouring to accomplish a purpose so +criminal by means so base. I expected storms, but a sweet calm has +succeeded that seems to portend tranquillity and happiness. + +With respect to me and Frank, our union appears to be hastening to a +conclusion. Sir Arthur, impelled forward by his hopes and fears, +proceeds though reluctantly to act contrary to the wishes of my +arrogant uncle. Mrs. Wenbourne is dissatisfied; but her opposition is +feeble, for Edward is reconciled to the match; having no other motive +but the acquisition of a sum of money for his consent to dock the +entail; and of the manner in which this sum will be squandered we have +already had sufficient proof. + +I understand Lord Fitz-Allen affects to credit a report of a very +ridiculous, though as some would think it of a very injurious nature; +which is that there was a collusion between Frank Henley and Mac Fane +respecting my brother's gambling affair. The circumstances necessary to +render this probable are so violent as immediately to expose its +absurdity, and to make it matter of amazement how such an assertion +could be invented, or circulated. + +What could be Frank's motive?--My wise uncle has his answer +ready--'That of imposing upon the family in order to marry me.' + +And what Mac Fane's? 'A bribe' is a short phrase, and soon said. + +I imagine it to be some dream of my uncle's, who has an aptitude for +this kind of invention; and who having once put a few incidents +together that seem to agree, persuades himself with great facility that +the fable he has created is fact. Petty calumny like this is wholly +incapable of moving Frank Henley. + +The restless crafty Abimelech has prevailed on Sir Arthur to go down +with him to Wenbourne-Hill. He well knows how much his own power will +be increased by the old habits of Sir Arthur, and the ease with which +they can be revived by this his interested abettor. Not but I am well +convinced, when once every thing shall be settled, and he have no +longer any thing to fear from the opposition of Sir Arthur, he will be +as little a friend to improving as any of us. Various hints which have +dropped from him would have proved this to Sir Arthur, had he not been +blind enough to suppose that, he being a baronet, honest Aby is bound +ever to remain his most obedient slave and steward; forgetting the +proofs he has received that Abimelech at present is more inclined to +command than to obey; and that when he parts with money he must have +what he calls the whys and the wherefores. + +His confidence in Frank however is now so entire that he has entrusted +the transaction of certain money business to him, necessary on the +present occasion, which he came up purposely to negotiate himself, but +which he is now convinced can be done full as prudently and safely by +his son. But a few months ago, Frank tells me, he petitioned this +father in vain for thirty pounds, who now commits thousands to his +keeping. + +Not but it is from a conviction that there is no propensity in Frank to +waste one of those guineas of which he is so enamoured. Without the +least love of money, Frank is a rigid economist. The father indulges no +false wants because it would be expensive; the son has none to indulge. +Habits which in the one are the fruits of avarice, in the other are the +offspring of wisdom. + +Abimelech has some confused suspicion that Frank acts from higher +motives than himself, and such as he does not understand; but still he +hopes they are all founded on his own favourite basis, the love of +hoarding. Nor can he very well persuade himself that this love is not +the grand mover with all men of sense, among whom he now ranks his son +high. + +But ah, Louisa, how different are the views of this worthy, this +heavenly-gifted son! He is anxiously studious to discover how he may +apply the wealth that may revert to him most to benefit that society +from which it first sprang. The best application of riches is one of +our frequent themes; because it will be one of our first duties. The +diffusion of knowledge, or more properly of truth, is the one great +good to which wealth, genius, and existence ought all to be applied. +This noble purpose gives birth to felicity which is in itself grand, +inexhaustible, and eternal. + +How ineffable is the bliss of having discovered a friend like Frank +Henley, who will not only pursue this best of purposes himself, but +will through life conduct me in the same path, will aid my efforts to +promote the great work, and, by a combination of those powers we happen +to possess, will add energy to effort, and perhaps render it fifty fold +more pervading and effective! + +Husband and wife, parent and child are ties which at present claim, or +rather extort a part of our attention. But oh how poor how +insignificant are they, when compared to the claims of eternal justice; +which bind man to man in equal and impartial benevolence over the face +of the whole earth, and render the wandering Arab, who is in need of +aid or instruction from me, as truly my brother as the one my mother +gave me. + +I seem now but beginning the journey of life; and to have found a +companion, guide, and consoler like Frank Henley is surely no common +felicity! May the fates grant my Louisa just such another! + +A. W. ST. IVES + + +P.S. You do not think, Louisa, no I am sure you cannot think that all +the ardour I felt for the recovery of a mind like Mr. Clifton's is +lost. Far, far otherwise! I still hope to see him even more than my +fondest reveries have imagined! But I am not the agent; or at least +this is not the moment; or which is still more probable no agent now is +wanted. His mind has been obliged to enquire, and though passion may +for a time suppress truth, its struggles will be incessant; must be so +in a mind of such activity, and must at last be victorious. The grand +enemy of truth is the torpid state of error; for the beginning of doubt +is always the beginning of discovery. Let us then continue to love this +man of wonderful genius; not for what he is, but what he shall be. + + + + +LETTER CIX + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor-Street_ + +Oh, Oliver, how fair is the prospect before me! How fruitful of +felicity, how abundant in bliss! Yes, my friend, jointly will we +labour, your most worthy father, you, I, Anna, her friend, and all the +converts we can make to truth, to promote the great end we seek! We +will form a little band which will daily increase, will swell to a +multitude, ay till it embrace the whole human species! + +Surely, Oliver, to be furnished with so many of the means of +promulgating universal happiness is no small blessing. My feelings are +all rapture! And yet if I know my heart, it is not because I have +gained a selfish solitary good; but because I live in an age when light +begins to appear even in regions that have hitherto been thick +darkness; and that I myself am so highly fortunate as to be able to +contribute to the great the universal cause; the progress of truth, the +extirpation of error, and the general perfection of mind! I and those +dear friends I have named; who are indeed dear because of their ardent +and uniform love of virtue! + +Neither, Oliver, are all our hopes of Clifton lost. Anna thinks, and so +do I, that he has heard too much ever to forget it all: or rather that +he has a mind so penetrating, and so eternally busy, that, having been +once led to enquire, it is scarcely in the power of accident wholly to +impede the progress of enquiry. And should accident be favourable, that +progress would indeed be rapid! By his intercourse with Anna his mind +is become impregnated with the seeds of truth; and surely the soil is +too rich for these seeds not to spring, bud, and bear a plenteous +harvest. Ay, Oliver, fear not. It is not the beauty of the picture that +seduces, but the laws of necessity, which declare the result for which +we hope to be inevitable. + +My present state of happiness meets some slight check from incidental +circumstances, not in my power to guide. My father and Sir Arthur are +doing what I believe to be a right thing, but from wrong motives. The +prodigal Edward, from a very different avarice of enjoyment, is eager +to dock the entail. The sum he is to receive will soon be squandered, +and he will then be as eager to imagine himself treated with injustice; +and will conceive himself left half to perish with want, if his +accustomed dissipation be not supplied. But that it must not be. If we +can teach him better we will; if not he must be left to repine and +accuse, and we must patiently suffer the error which we cannot cure. + +Lord Fitz-Allen indulges himself in thinking as much ill of me as he +can, and in speaking all he thinks. But this is indeed a trifle. I know +that the mistakes of his mind, situated as he is, are incurable; and to +grieve or feel pain for what cannot be avoided is neither the act of +wisdom nor of virtue. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER CX + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +I did not intend to have written again so soon, but an incident has +occurred which perplexes all reasoning upon it, and again engenders +doubt. It relates to Clifton. + +I last night attended Anna to Covent-Garden playhouse, where about +eight o'clock I was obliged to leave her, having an appointment with +some gentlemen in the city relative to my father's money affairs at +that hour; which having settled it was agreed I should return in the +carriage for Anna, before the play was ended, to conduct her home. +Accordingly having met my men of business, whom on Friday next I am to +meet again to receive eight thousand pounds, I drove back to Covent +Garden. + +It was then about ten o'clock. The coachman stopped at the Piazza. I +alighted; but, as I was stepping out of the carriage, whom should I see +but the gambler and highwayman, Mac Fane, linked arm in arm with Mr. +Clifton! I was struck with amazement, as well I might be. A thousand +confused doubts succeeded to each other, which I had neither time nor +indeed power to unravel. + +However it seemed to me almost impossible that Mr. Clifton should know +the man, and suffer himself to be seen in public with such a character. +For certainly a want of self-respect is not one of the habitual +mistakes of Mr. Clifton. I stopped some little time in this state of +perplexity, but at last concluded it would be highly culpable in me to +leave Mr. Clifton ignorant of the character of his acquaintance. They +had gone toward King-Street, and I hastened after them. + +I soon came up with them, and addressing myself to Mr. Clifton, +said--'Sir, it is incumbent on me to inform you of a particular of +which I imagine you are ignorant. The name of the man you are in +company with is Mac Fane. You have heard his history. He is the +gambler who endeavoured to defraud Captain St. Ives of three thousand +pounds.' + +I have before acquainted thee, Oliver, of the ferocious character of +this Mac Fane; of which I have now had further proofs. I had scarcely +finished my phrase before he replied, with one of his accustomary +oaths--'You're a scoundrel and a liar'--and immediately made a blow at +me. + +Being previously on my guard and watchful of his motions, I stepped +quickly back, and he missed me and reeled. This was in King-Street, +where I overtook them. + +I turned back, intending not to notice his insult; but he was too much +enraged to suffer me to escape, unless I had thought proper to run. He +is a very muscular fellow, and confident of his own strength. No man +could be more determined than I was to avoid so absurd a contest, had +it been possible; but it was not. He made several blows at me, two or +three of which took effect, before I returned one of them. But finding +that I must be obliged to beat him in order to get rid of him, and that +there was absolutely no other mode, I began my task with all necessary +determination. + +The mob collected apace, and we were presently surrounded by +passengers, waiters, chairmen, footmen, hackney-coachmen and link-boys. +It was a strange disgusting situation; but it did not admit of a +remedy. This fellow, Mac Fane, has studied the whole school of assault, +and is a practised pugilist. When I was a boy thou knowest, Oliver, and +before thy worthy father had taught me better, I was myself vain of my +skill and prowess. I was not therefore the novice which he expected to +have found. Not to mention, Oliver, that energy of mind, if it be real +and true energy, is itself, without any such contemptible knowledge, +sufficient to overcome the strongest efforts of tyranny. + +Of this I presently made Mr. Mac Fane sensible. After the very first +onset, he felt himself cowed; which increased his rage so much that he +endeavoured to have recourse to the most malignant and cruel +expedients, to obtain victory. This obliged me to give him several hard +and very dangerous blows, which I should otherwise have been cautious +of doing, and the effects of which he will for some time continue to +feel. + +He fought however with great obstinacy, and in a manner which proved +how much his ambition was wounded by being conquered. The mob, as in +all such cases, chose different sides; but much the greatest part was +for me. They several times saw the malicious and evil intentions of Mac +Fane; and he once received a blow for them, from one of the assistants, +which made him more guarded. + +It is delightful to the philosopher to perceive how, even in error, +justice struggles to shew itself. Those rules which are the laws of +honour to the mob originate in this noble principle: and never is the +infraction of justice more dangerous than at such moments, when the +mind is awakened to full exertion. + +Still it was a painful and degrading situation! Wert thou ever at the +mercy of a mob? Didst thou ever feel the littleness of thy own +faculties, when exerted to make a confused multitude act rationally, at +the very time that thou thyself wert apparently acting like a fool, or +a madman? If so, Oliver, thou canst conceive something of the contempt +which I felt for myself, during this scene. Can a general, thinkest +thou, if he be really a fit person to be a general, feel otherwise in +the heat of battle? For I am mistaken if armies of the best disciplined +men, brought into action, do not more or less become a mob. And added +to this sense of imbecility, what must the general's feelings be the +next morning, when he goes to view the wretched scene of his own +making? Does he go to view it, thinkest thou, or does he shun the +fight? If he go he is a fiend; and if he stay away he is worse! + +The battle being ended and the rage of Mr. Mac Fane, though perhaps +increased, obliged to restrain itself, there stood I, surrounded by my +applauding admirers, suffering a thousand ridiculous interrogatories, +and confined to the spot for the want of clothes! My hat and coat I had +committed to one person, and my watch and purse to another; taking it +for granted the latter would have been stolen from me if I had not, as +was actually the fact, for my breeches pockets were turned inside out. +I had rightly concluded that the chances were more favourable in +trusting to a person I should select, than to the honesty of a mob in +the confines of Covent-Garden. + +I was fortunate: the whole of my moveables again made their appearance; +and it gave me great pleasure, because I had trusted my purse and watch +to a poor fellow. The consciousness of his own honesty was a greater +pleasure to him than the recompense he received from me; though I +thought it my duty to reward him liberally. Beside he had seen me ill +treated, and had conceived an affection for me, or more properly for +the justice of my cause, and he rejoiced exultingly in my victory. + +I escaped from the shouts and congratulations of my greasy well-meaning +companions as fast as I could; and after a further delay of stepping +into a coffee-house, to wash and adjust my appearance as well as +circumstances would permit, I joined Anna, who began to be alarmed, the +play being over and the house almost empty. + +I saw no more of Clifton. But that affords me no clue. If he were +before unacquainted with Mac Fane, he would hasten from such a +companion with vexation and contempt: and if the contrary, his chagrin +at being seen by me would equally induce him to shun us. Mind, as I +have always remarked, Oliver, and as I have before reasoned with thee +relative to him, is slow in ridding itself of the habits of prejudice, +even when prejudice itself seems to have ceased. + +'Tis true that conjectures disadvantageous to Clifton have, when Anna +and I were considering this incident, intruded themselves forcibly upon +us: but they were only conjectures, and I hope ill founded. Indeed they +are improbable; for Clifton could not knowingly league himself with a +man like Mac Fane, except for purposes too black or too desperate for +even passions so violent as his to entertain. + +I know mind to be capable of astonishing mistakes; nor can I pretend, +when I recollect the proofs on record, to say what are the boundaries +of error; nor indeed what are the boundaries of probability. But I +think Clifton could not make himself the associate of Mac Fane! + +I should pronounce more boldly still, but that I cannot conceive how it +was possible for a character so legible and gross, as that of this +gambler, to impose for a moment on Coke Clifton; acquainted as he is +with the world, and accustomed to detect and satirize what he +understands to be absurdity! I can only say, if he be proceeding fin +error so flagrant and deep as this, he is a man much to be feared, but +more to be pitied. + +F. HENLEY + + + + +LETTER CXI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Again and again, Fairfax, this is an infernal world! A vile, +disgusting, despicable, besotted ass of a world! Existence in it is not +worth accepting; and the sooner we spurn it from us the better we shall +assert our claim to the dignity and wisdom of which it is destitute. + +How do I despise the blundering insolent scoundrel with whom I am +linked! How despicable am I to myself! + +I last night met the fellow again at the Shakespeare. Of all his dirty +qualities, not one of them is so tormenting as his familiar impudence! +There is no repressing it except by cutting his throat; a business +at which he is always alert. Nothing delights him so much as to talk +of extinguishing men, treading out their souls, feeding upon their +life-time, and other strange revolting phrases, all of the same +sanguinary sort. + +Having consulted with him concerning the seizure of Anna and Frank, and +concluded that the affair should be ended as speedily as possible, I +wished to have shaken him off and retired: but the thing was +impracticable. I do not choose that my own carriage should attend me on +these expeditions; and as it was a rainy night, I knew the difficulty +of getting a coach. I therefore staid an hour till the entertainment +should be begun, and the Piazza probably more clear. + +As there is no sitting in his company without some species of gaming, +for his whole conversation, that subject excepted, consists of oaths, +duels, and the impudent scoundrels he has put out of the world, I took +a few throws at hazard with him; and, as I was very careful to call for +fresh dice and to watch his motions, I was a winner; hazard perhaps +being the fairest of all games, if the dice be not foul. He ran over +his usual litany of being pigeoned, and about ten o'clock I left play, +and determined to sally forth; being apprehensive of engaging too +deeply at the game, if I staid longer. + +The moment we had descended the stairs he impudently laid hold of my +arm. My blood boiled, Fairfax! Yet I was obliged to submit. + +This was not all! The precautions I had taken were but a kind of +presentiment of the vexation that was preparing for me. Just as we +quitted the door of the tavern, who should bolt upon us but the hated +Henley! I shook with the broad shame! My teeth gnashed curses! How +willingly could I have pistoled him, Mac Fane, every being that eyed +me, and still more willingly myself! + +But there was nothing for it but to walk on, and seem not to see him. +He however would not suffer me to depart without a double dose of +damnation! The same infernal officiousness, with which from the first +moment he saw me to the last he has been seized, came upon him; and +though I hurried through the Piazza to escape, like a perjurer from the +pillory, he pursued us purposely to inform me I was in company with a +rascal, and to warn me of my danger. + +I never can recollect my own situation, without an impulse to snatch up +the first implement that would deprive me of a consciousness so +detestable! + +The irascible fury of the bully rid me of my tormentor; he immediately +assaulted Henley, and I hastened away from two beings so almost equally +abhorrent, but from causes so opposite. + +On the following evening, having another appointment with the gambling +rascal, I took care to have a coach waiting, and to go muffled up and +disguised as much as possible. But for once my caution was superfluous. +No Mac Fane appeared. + +Not knowing what had happened, and it being night, and I thus properly +equipped, I resolved to drive to his lodgings. Being there I sent up my +name, and was admitted to the bed-chamber of this doughty exterminator +of men. If the temper of my mind were not obnoxious to all +cheerfulness, I could almost have laughed, the bully was so excellently +beaten, mortified, and enraged! His head was bound up, his eyes were +plaistered, his thumb sprained, his body of all colours, and his mind +as hotly fevered as Alexander's itself could have been, had Alexander +been vanquished at the battle of Issus! + +His impatience to have Henley in his power is now almost phrensy; and +it will be phrensy itself when he comes to find, as find he will, that +though he can tie the hands of Henley his conquest must end there, and +that the prisoner will still defy and contemn his jailor. So would I +have him. Henley, though I hate, I cannot but respect and admire. The +other is a creature I detest myself for ever having known! + +Yet who but he could have gratified the unabating burning passion of my +heart? I feel, Fairfax, as if I had taken my leave of hope, joy, and +human intercourse! I have a quarrel with the whole race for having been +forced into existence and into misery! I have suffered an accumulation +of disgrace, for which I can never pardon myself! And shall I permit +the authors of it to live undisturbed in their insult and triumph over +me? No, by hell, come of me what will! Lower I cannot be in my own +esteem than I already am: tremble those who made me so! + +Beating has but rendered this rascal more impatient and active. Every +thing is prepared. The house is hired, aired, and provided with a +proper guardian. The madman keeper has all his implements ready. We +have now only to watch and catch them at a proper distance from all +succour, to which in their amorous walks they have frequently strayed. + +Though even you, Fairfax, seem to disapprove my conduct, I care not. +Not to give yourself further trouble with what you call such positive +prudes might be a very good maxim for you, who love your ease too much +ever to be sensible of the boiling emotions of a soul like mine! You +are Guy Fairfax; I am Coke Clifton. Not but I should have imagined the +swelling volumes of injuries I have communicated would have lighted up +a sympathetic flame of retributive vengeance even in you, which not all +your phlegm could have quenched. But no matter--Though heaven, earth, +and hell were to face me frowning, I would on! My purpose is fixed: let +it but be accomplished, and consequences to myself will be the least of +all my cares. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Since the world began, never yet had scoundrel wight so many damning +accessary incidents to contend with, as I have had during the whole +progress of this affair! All hell seems busy to blacken me!--I have +done the deed--They are secure--But the hour of exultation itself is +embittered, and the legitimate triumph of vengeance made to wear the +face of baseness--I have them; but as I tell you there is an event, +that happened the very moment preceding the seizure, which seems to +have been contrived by the most malignant of the fiends of darkness, +purposely to steep me in guilt indelible! + +After our myrmidons had been three days in vain upon the watch, on +Friday last Anna and Henley sallied forth, about two in the afternoon, +to take one of their amorous rambles. As usual they were followed by +Laura, who had sent me word of their intention, which she had learnt at +breakfast time. Henley it seems had previously been into the city. + +A scout was on the watch, and when they appeared soon brought the +intelligence. All was in readiness. The keeper with three stout fellows +in one party, and MacFane with four more in another. The earliness of +their setting out denoted they intended to lengthen their walk. The +great danger was that it should have been directed to Kensington +Gardens, as it has been several times lately; but in this instance +fortune was on our side. + +They went into the park, passed the gardens, walked beside the wall, +crossed the Kensington road, and strayed exactly as we could have +wished into the fields inclining toward Brompton. + +I was on horseback, and by the help of a pocket telescope kept them in +view, without the danger of being seen, while they were in the park; +but as soon as they had left it I thought it necessary to spur on, and +be ready to prevent any blunders. I crossed the road down the lane at +the turnpike, passed them, and saw them arm in arm. The sight was +insupportable! + +From what afterward happened they must have seen me too, though I +imagined myself under cover of the hedge. + +You know my determination not to be robbed; and indeed robbery at such +a time, and in such a place, was a thing I had little reason to expect. +But a fellow, who was lying in ambush at the turn of the lane, +calculated differently. He imagined nobody to be near, and suddenly +presented himself and his pistol, with a demand of my money. + +I made a blow at him with the butt end of my whip, which missed his +head, but fell on his shoulder. My horse started, he fired and missed, +but sprung suddenly forward, and seized hold of the bridle. He had +another pistol which he was preparing, imagining I should be more +intimidated when I found him so desperate. All this happened +immediately after I had passed Anna and Henley; and the latter perhaps +having seen the fellow, and certainly having heard the pistol, flew in +an instant, leaped the hedge, and just as the robber was again +presenting his pistol made a blow, and knocked it out of his hand. + +The pistol went off, and the fellow took to his heels. Henley, instead +of pursuing him, stayed to enquire with much earnestness whether I had +received any hurt. + +At this very damning speck of time, Fairfax, the keeper and his +scoundrels who had been dogging them came up. There were four of them: +two before and two behind. The undaunted Henley severally knocked down +the two fellows in front, and in an instant would undoubtedly have been +far enough out of all reach; but, in the very act of striking the +second rascal, he received a blow from a bludgeon, dealt by the +blood-hound keeper, which levelled him with the earth. + +Never did my heart feel a twinge like that moment! I thought he was +dead! He lay motionless; notwithstanding which the infernal keeper +continued his occupation with unconcern, turned the unresisting body +over, slipped on the straight waistcoat, and bound down his arms. + +At length he gave a groan! The instant I heard it I galloped off, full +speed. It was too much for heart to endure! + +I soon afterward heard him shout for aid more than once, but to this +they presently put a stop, by forcing a gag into his mouth. They were +not very far distant from the house where he was to be confined, and to +which he was immediately hurried away. + +There he at present remains. His morning dialogues, his noon-day walks, +and his nightly raptures are ended. They are things past, never more to +return! Of that torment at least I have rid myself; and others compared +to that are bliss ineffable! I had sworn it should not be! They might +have read the oath largely written on my brow, and ought instinctively +to have known it be the decree of fate! + +No, Fairfax! I never asked a favour from him; never by my own consent +received one! Not all the tortures of all the tyrants the earth ever +beheld should have extorted a consent so degrading! His repeated +interference was but a repetition of insult, and as such deserves only +to be remembered. I asked not life at his hands; and giving life, +instead of a blessing, he did but give torture! The gift was detestable +and the giver! Had I perished, he might have been safe and I at rest. I +asked not charity of him. No! On any Terms I abhor existence; bur on +those, darkness and hell are not so hateful! It has ulcerated my heart, +which not even vengeance itself I find has now the power to heal. For +life I am made miserable; but it shall not be a single misery! + +While the keeper was acting his part of this gloomy drama, Mac Fane, as +you may well imagine, was not idle. He and his unhallowed scoundrels +presently made seizure of the lovely Anna. She stood confused and half +terrified at the sudden flight of her enamorato! She was more confused, +more terrified at the sudden appearance of her ravishers! I charged the +scoundrels on their lives to use her tenderly! But what know such +hell-hounds of tenderness? + +She made I find a brave and by them unexpected resistance: but there +were too many of them, and it was in vain! Mac Fane himself is amazed +at her beauty; and harangues in his coarse and uncouth jargon on the +energy and dignity of her deportment, in a manner which shews that even +he was awed. + +They were obliged however forcibly to stop her cries. This I imagined +would be the case, and I had provided them with a white cambric +handkerchief. But what will not the touch of such unconsecrated rascals +defile? + +Yes, Fairfax, they laid their prophane hands on her, clasped her in +their loathsome arms, polluted her with their foul fingers! The embrace +of a Clifton she might perhaps pardon; but this violation she never +can! + +Well then, let her add this injury to the rest! I know her to be my +enemy; sworn, rooted, and irrevocable! And why should I tag regret to +my sum of wretchedness? No! I will at least enjoy a moment of triumph, +however transitory! Let her despise me, but she shall remember me too! + +Give me but this brief bliss, and there I would wish existence to end! +That excepted, pleasure there is none for me; and of pain I am weary. +Yes! I will glut my soul with this solitary, short rapture; and contemn +the storms that may succeed! I fear them not, shall glory in them, and +be glad to find foes, if such should arise, with whom contention will +not be disgrace! I wish and seek them. Their appearance would give me +employment, and employment would give me ease, and ease would be +heaven! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +Alarm has sounded her horn. The family is all confusion, all doubt, +hurry, fruitless enquiry, and indecision. The absence of Anna and +Henley at dinner threw Mrs. Clarke into consternation; for Sir Arthur +is down at Wenbourne-Hill, with old Henley and his son Edward. Each is +indulging his dreams of improvement, marriage, docking of entails, and +other projects, to which I have put an eternal stop. + +Finding the evening advance, and that the two prisoners did not appear, +the housekeeper sent to the aunt, Wenbourne. She heard the story and +was amazed. She knew nothing of them. + +Ten o'clock came, and terror increased. A messenger was dispatched to +Lord Fitz-Allen; and he could not at first tell whether to be sorry or +glad, for he did not an instant forget to hope that it was some +rascally act on the part of Henley. + +He sent for the housekeeper. She came, and he interrogated her. The +answers she gave did not please him, for the tendency of all his +questions was to the disadvantage and crimination of Henley, whom she +pertinaciously defended. She affirmed so positively, and so violently, +that it could not be any plan or evil intention of his, that the proud +lord was half angry but half obliged to doubt. + +I took care to be in the way, expecting as it happened that a message +would be sent to me. I immediately attended his lordship, and learned +all that I have been relating. I condoled with him, and pretended to +pity the family; not neglecting to lead his thoughts into the channel +that would best serve my purpose, and to recapitulate every +circumstance I could remember, or invent, that should induce him to +believe Henley and Anna had eloped; but affecting candour, and +pretending to argue against the possibility of such a supposition. + +The effect I intended was produced. He was fully convinced of Henley's +being a low, selfish, contemptible scoundrel; and Anna a forward, +disobedient, insolent miss. + +I offered my services to pursue them, and pressed his acceptance of +them violently; but was careful to counteract the offer, by shewing the +impossibility of their being overtaken, and by exciting him rather to +wish for their escape, that Anna might be flagrantly disgraced, and his +penetration and authority vindicated to the whole world. + +I did not neglect, before the departure of Mrs. Clarke, to display all +my eagerness, by sending round to numerous inns and stable-keepers, to +enquire whether any post-chaise had been hired, that should any way +accord with the circumstances. Other messengers were dispatched, by my +advice, to the different turnpikes; and a third set sent off to various +watch-houses, to enquire whether any intelligence could be obtained of +accidental deaths, or other mischances. + +In short, I was very diligent to hurry the legs of the servants and the +brains of their governors into every direction, but the right; and thus +for a little while in some sort diverted myself, with the vagaries of +the fools upon whom I was playing. One chop-fallen runner trod upon the +heels of another, each with a repetition of his diversified nothings; +till his lordship thought proper to recollect it was time for his +dignity to retire, and not further disturb itself on personages and +circumstances so derogatory. + +In the morning I was careful to be with him again. I breakfasted with +him, and reiterated the same string of doubts, conjectures, alarms, and +insinuations. + +Mrs. Clarke returned. She had been up all night, and her looks +testified the distress of her mind. She proposed sending an express +after Sir Arthur; of the propriety of which I endeavoured to make the +uncle doubt; but she was too zealous, and her oratory had too much +passion, to be counteracted without danger. I therefore, when I saw +resistance vain, became the most eager adviser of the measure. + +There is no merit in imposing upon stupidity so gross as that of this +supercilious blockhead. Mrs. Clarke would be much more to be feared, +but that what she may say will be much less regarded. Her affection for +Anna is extreme, and a high proof of the excellent qualities of her +mistress. + +Nor was she one whit less enthusiastic in her praise of Henley. +Notwithstanding the forbidding frowns and reproofs of his lordship, she +ran over his whole history; and dwelt particularly on an act of +benevolence done by him to her niece; that being a circumstance that +had come immediately within her knowledge. She spoke with such a +fervour and overflow of heart that she once or twice moved me. + +She perceived something of the ridiculous compunction I felt, and fell +on her knees, wrung my hand, and adjured me, in a tone of very +extraordinary emphasis, to save her dear her precious young lady. I +scarcely could recover myself sufficiently to ask her which way it was +in my power to save her; and to turn the conversation, by exclaiming to +the peer--'Ah! Had she but allowed me the happiness and honour of being +her protector, I think no man would have dared to do her harm.' + +The old housekeeper however continued, and began to denounce impending +and inevitable evil on the persecutors of Henley and Anna. I have no +doubt she glanced at me, and that her mistress had informed her of the +triumph gained over me. Why ay! I should indeed have been the scoff of +the very rabble, had I not taken vengeance for my wrongs! + +Yet her denunciations seemed prophetic: or rather were feeble +descriptions of the excruciating pangs by which I am hourly gnawn! + +I grew weary of the dull farce, and put an end to it as speedily as I +conveniently could; leaving his sage lordship with the full conviction +that the sudden disappearance of Henley, and his niece, could no +otherwise be accounted for but by wilful elopement. + +I am now preparing for a very different visit. A visit of vengeance! I +expect no pleasure, no gratification but that alone! To prove the +danger of injury done to me, to punish the perpetrators, to exult at +their lamentations, and to look down with contempt at all menace, or +retribution, is now my last remaining hope! Let me but enjoy this and +all other expectation I willingly relinquish!--I am going--I have them +in my grasp!--They shall feel me now! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXIV + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +Where I am, what is to become of me, or whether I am ever to see my +Louisa more, are things of which I am utterly ignorant. I write not +with an expectation that my friend should read, but to memorandum +events of which perhaps the world will never hear; and which, should +this paper by any accident be preserved, it will scarcely believe. + +This vile Clifton--[Surely I ought never again to call him my Louisa's +brother]--This perverse man has grown desperate in error! The worst of +my forebodings have not equalled his intents! His plan has long been +mischief! Hypocrisy, violence, rape, no means are too foul!--Such +things are incomprehensible! + +I am confined in a lone house, somewhere behind Knightsbridge. I was +seized I know not how by a band of ruffians, and conveyed hither. Every +kind of despicable deceit appears to have been practised. Frank was +decoyed from me. He flew once again to save the life, as he thought, of +this base minded man. I know not what is become of him, but have no +doubt that he like me is somewhere suffering imprisonment, if he be +permitted yet to live. + +No thoughts are so tragical, no suspicions so horrid as not to be +justified, by deductions and appearances which are but too probable. +Yet I will not sink under difficulties, nor be appalled at the sight of +danger; be it death, or what else it may. That I am in a state of +jeopardy my seizure and imprisonment prove. That Frank is still in +greater peril, if still in existence, I have just cause to conclude. +There were pistols fired, and one after he leaped the hedge; I know not +at whom directed, nor what its fate!--I would if possible ward off +apprehension. I know it to be folly, and I will endeavour to steel my +heart against this as well as other mistakes. If he be dead, or if he +be to die, grief will not revive or make him invulnerable. His own +virtue must preserve him, or nothing can; and in that I will confide. + +That evil is meant to me it would be absurd to doubt; but of what +nature, where it is to begin, or where end, that time must disclose. +For I will not permit myself to imagine the trifling indignities, or +violence I have hitherto encountered, an evil worthy of complaint. + +'Tis true my arms are bruised, and I was rudely dealt with by the vile +men who seized me: and that there should be such men is an evil. But to +me it is none; or not worth a thought. If I would firmly meet what is +to come, I must not weakly bewail what is past. + +I am not immortal, neither is my strength infinite; but the powers I +have I will use. We are oftener vanquished because we are fearful than +because we are feeble. Our debility takes birth in our cowardice, and +true fortitude is not to be abashed by trifling dangers. + +I meant to write a narrative, but these reflections are forced upon me +by my situation. I will proceed. + +I was brought here, on Friday--, by several men of vulgar but ferocious +countenances; and my maid Laura with me. I made all the resistance in +my power; and the men, without any regard to what I suffered in body or +mind, twisted my arms behind me, so that I imagined one of them had +been dislocated, and forced a handkerchief into my mouth; handling, +tossing, and gripping me, without any respect whatever to decency or +pain, till they had conveyed me from the fields, in which I was walking +with Frank Henley, to the place where I am. + +I scarcely can guess at the distance; but they hurried me away with +great violence, crossing several gates, and forcing apertures through +hedges, for the space I believe of not more than half an hour: it might +be much less. + +They brought me to a house walled round; into which having been +admitted by an old woman, they hurried me forward up stairs, and shut +me into a room decently furnished, with a fire in it and a bed-chamber +adjoining; but with the windows barred up, and in which every +precaution had evidently been taken to render escape impracticable. + +Laura was shut up with me; and there was a slip of paper on the table, +on which was written--'Laura is allowed to fetch whatever you may want. +Let her ring the bell, and the door will be opened.'--The hand-writing +was Mr. Clifton's. + +Among other necessaries, there was a book-case, furnished with the +works of some of the best authors; and a writing-desk, with pens, ink, +and paper. + +The same old woman that opened the gate for the men, who brought me, +constantly comes to open the door for Laura, when I ring. But this +she does with great caution. A chain, similar to what is common for +street-doors, is hung on the outside; which she puts up, and looks to +see that I am not near, every time she opens the door. The first time +she came I stood just behind Laura, and in a morose tone she bade me +go back, or she would lock the door again. + +After Laura had been several times down stairs, I enquired what +discoveries she had made; and, as she informs me, the house appears to +have no inhabitants but this old woman and ourselves. The old woman +resides in the kitchen. The doors and windows are all secured; and the +same care is taken to prevent escape below stairs as above. + +The food that has been brought us was good, and well dressed, but +almost cold. Laura says she is sure it cannot be dressed in the house, +which is most probable. + +I communicate but few of my thoughts to Laura, because I fear I have +good reason to be suspicious of her. I have long remarked her +partiality in favour of Mr. Clifton, intermixed with some contradictory +appearances, which I could not solve at the time, but which I now +believe to have been aukward attempts to conceal that partiality, and +to mislead me; which she in part effected. + +The base designs of Mr. Clifton, from the nature of them, cannot have +been very recent; and nothing perhaps was more necessary, to carry them +into execution, than the seducing of the woman who by her situation +could give him the best intelligence. + +Since I have begun to doubt her, I have purposely cross-questioned her +occasionally, and she has answered with hesitation and incoherency. If +however I can perceive the least hope that this letter should be +conveyed to the post-office, by any person who may visit the house, and +whom she may see but I cannot, I will trust it to her. The trust indeed +is nothing, for it cannot increase my peril. The persecution of Mr. +Clifton must prove most pernicious to himself. Unless he can deprive me +of conscious innocence, it can injure me but little. + +Among other ambiguous circumstances respecting Laura, she scarcely +seems to repine at her confinement: though she has several times +affected uneasiness, which while she acted it she evidently did not +feel. Beside she is permitted to stay below, and run about the house; +which, whatever caution of bars and bolts may have been used, she would +not be suffered to do, as I should suppose, were she really in my +interest. + +About an hour ago we heard the yard bell ring and the gate open, and +she was eager to go down. I encouraged her, and she rung for our +turnkey. She had seen me writing, and, without being spoken to, took +upon her to suppose it was a letter to my Louisa, and told me she _did +believe_ she could get it conveyed to the post. I am persuaded this is +preconcerted officiousness. But as I said, I have nothing to lose, and +there is a bare possibility of hope. + +When she came up stairs again, she told me that the person who had rung +at the bell was some man of the neighbourhood, who had brought the old +woman various trifling articles, and whom she had ordered to return at +five o'clock, with tea and sugar. + +If contrary to all expectation this should come to hand, Louisa, write +to my father; inform him of all you know: and especially write to Mr. +Clifton. It will be ineffectual, but write. If there be truth in woman, +I would rejoice to suffer much more mischief than he has the power to +inflict, could I but by that means restore him to a sense of his own +worth; or rather of the worth of virtue! + +Why do I talk of mischief, and his power to inflict? I hope to shew +him he has no power over me; and that the strength of men, and the +force of walls, locks, and bars are feeble, when but resolutely +opposed by the force of truth, actuating the will of weak and despised +woman!--Injury?--Poor depraved, mistaken man! It is himself he injures! +Every effort he makes is but a new assault upon his own peace! It is +heaping coals of fire upon his own head; which it has long been the +wish of my heart to extinguish! + +Had I but any reason to believe Frank Henley in safety, I would not +suffer a single sigh to escape me. But I know too well Mr. Clifton dare +not permit him to be at liberty, while he keeps me confined. Surely +nothing can be attempted against his life? And yet I sometimes shake +with horror! There is a reason which I know not whether I dare mention; +yet if Mr. Clifton should think proper to lay snares to intercept and +read my letters, he ought to be informed of this dangerous +circumstance. I know not, Louisa, whether I am addressing myself to you +or him; but Frank Henley at the time that I was seized, and he likewise +as I suppose, had bank-bills in his possession to the amount of eight +thousand pounds! + +He had been that very morning into the city, to receive the money on +his father's account; and intended as we returned to leave them with +Sir Arthur's banker. + +If men such as those who seized on me were employed for the same +violent purpose against him, and if they should discover a sum which +would to them be so tempting, who can say that his life would be safe? +Frank Henley, the preserver of Clifton, the preceptor of truth, and the +friend of man; the benevolent, magnanimous, noble-minded Frank, whose +actions were uniform in goodness, whose heart was all affection, and +whose soul all light--and murdered! + +Why do I indulge a thought so unhuman, so impossible? It could not +be!--No, no; it could not be! A supposition so extravagant is +guilt--Yet though I who cannot aid him ought not to encourage such +doubts, let those who can be warned, and be active! + +I am addressing myself to vacancy! No one hears me! No one will read +what I write! + +I will be calm. It is my situation, it is confinement, the bars I see +and the bolts I hear that inspire these gloomy thoughts. They are +unfounded, and certainly unavailing--He may have escaped! He may at +this instant be in search of me! Hurrying, enquiring, despairing, and +distracted; in much deeper distress than I am: for were I but sure of +his safety, I could almost defy misfortune! Let not the world lose him! +Oh! If any human creature should in time read this, let him hear, let +him shudder, let him beware! + +Pardon, Louisa! I do not address myself to you! Too well I know my +friend to doubt her! No cold delay, no unfeeling negligence, no rash +phrensy is to be feared from her!--Alas! What I am writing she will +never read! It cannot be! The man I have to encounter is too practised +in deceit, or I should not have been where I am! + +Well then, may he himself read! And while he reads, thus let his +conscience speak--'There is a man whose worth and virtues are such, +that the loss of him would be a loss to the whole human race. From this +man I received a thousand acts of kindness: for which I returned ten +thousand insults. I repulsed him, scorned him, struck him; and he, +disregarding the innumerable injuries I had done him, but a few hours +after plunged headlong down the dreadful abyss, to snatch me from the +grave. I was dead and he gave me life. In return I have robbed him of +what men prize even more than life, of liberty. But if I have put him +in jeopardy, if I suffer him to remain in the power of hardened and +wicked men, and if he perish, mercy cannot pardon me, justice cannot +punish, and charity itself must hold me in abhorrence.' + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CXV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +My actions are now become one continued chain of artifice. But were +that all, and were not the objects of this artifice of a nature so new +and so painful, it would afford me amusement, and not be any cause of +vexation. + +As it is I feel apprehensions which are wholly different from any I +ever felt before. To deceive in countries where deception is a pastime, +authorised, practised, and applauded, is I find something very opposite +to what would seem the same thing, in this gloomy land of apathy and +phlegm. There it is a sport and a pleasure. Here it is a business of +serious danger and general detestation. But no matter! + +I am obliged to watch times and seasons, for I have little doubt that I +myself am watched. That old housekeeper I am sure suspects me; and her +affection for her mistress is so full, so restless, that it cannot but +sharpen her intellects, and make her employ every engine she can +imagine for discovery. I walked up to Fozard's as I often do for my +horse, and I saw one of Sir Arthur's servants pass the yard, soon after +I entered it. I have little doubt but he was dogging me. + +I got on horseback and rode slowly down toward Pimlico, and over +Westminster bridge, but I saw no more of him. + +As soon as I was out of town I mended my pace, and gradually increased +it to a full gallop. Passing through Vauxhall, I crossed the Thames +again at Battersea-bridge, rode through Chelsea, and presently gained +the Brompton road. + +My first visit was to the keeper. The fellow has a strange look! A +villainous physiognomy! I enquired after his prisoner and found he was +safe. The house is well secured; not modern, but in the style of the +last century; strong and heavy, and before this affair was thought of +had been fitted up for the purposes of confinement, but is now still +better fortified. It has a garden, which is surrounded by a high wall, +in which the prisoner is suffered to exercise himself; but not without +the very necessary precaution of confining his arms in the strait +waistcoat, securing the doors, and attentively watching his motions. + +I ordered the fellow to see that Henley wanted for nothing, to let a +boy he has wait upon him, and to keep out of his way himself, for two +reasons of my own. I do not wish Henley to suffer the insults of such a +vulgar and narrow-souled rascal: my revenge is of a nobler kind. +Neither am I quite certain that this keeper, hardened, obdurate, and +pitiless as he is, could withstand Henley's oratory. At least I would +not willingly have him subjected to the temptation: though the fellow +is so averse to any sense of human pity that I think the danger is very +small. + +He was offended however at my thinking proper to direct him, and +surlily told me he understood his trade. + +Here I met Mac Fane, by appointment. He cannot forget the disgrace of +Covent-garden, and spoke of Henley with a degree of malignity that +would want but little encouraging to become dangerous. I am to pay him +the thousand pounds in a few days, and our place of rendezvous is then +to be once more at the Shakespeare. + +I was glad to escape from the company of these new inmates' of mine, +these first-born of Beelzebub, and to fly to my other prisoner. I say +fly, for I set out with eagerness enough; but every step I took I felt +my ardour abate. The houses are more than half a mile apart, and I +thought proper to go thither on foot, and not to take any common path, +but to cross the fields, as the securest mode. + +Laura knew I was to be there, and had her tale ready. She presently +came down. I enquired after her mistress, and if her account be true, +this heroic woman has not shed a tear, but has behaved with all her +apparent customary calm. She is a divine creature! + +As I rode along, I made a thousand determinations that all should be +that day ended. I cursed myself, pledged my honour, used every method +which might have shewn me how much I doubted my own resolution, to +prove to myself how irrevocably determined I was! The little remaining +firmness I had left wholly died away at the relation of Laura. + +I must stay till the calm dignity of her mind shall begin to decline. +The nature of her confinement, the fears she cannot but have for her +Henley, the recollection of her friends and father, and her +apprehensions of me must all quickly contribute to produce this effect. +I do not pretend to deny that I feel a reluctance to a first interview: +but I am determined the first shall be the only one. I know myself, and +know when once I am heated it will not then be Anna St. Ives, a miracle +though she be, that can over-awe or conquer me. I have the stubbornness +of woman, and the strength of man. I am reckless of what is to follow, +but the thing shall be! There is not a particle in my frame that does +not stand pledged to the deed, by honour and oath! It is the only event +for which I care, or for which I live. + +Nor shall I live long when once it is over. I foresee I shall not. But +that is not a painful, no, it is a satisfactory thought! I would even +present her the pistol, would she but dispatch me the moment my revenge +is gratified. I would then sleep, and forget all that is, and all that +might have been. + +She has been writing. I knew it would be one source of amusement to +her, and I provided her with implements. Laura asked and she owned it +was a letter to my sister, which she could wish were sent. But that +must not be. She means to give it to Laura; I of course shall be the +next receiver. + +This girl, Laura, acts her part ill. She is not half sorrowful enough. +I wonder Anna does not remark it; and Laura says she does not, though +that is no very good proof. The complexion of her letter I think will +tell me how far she does or does not confide in her maid. I know she +holds suspicion in contempt; and yet I think my high opinion of her +discrimination would find some abatement, were I certain that she did +not suspect this shallow girl. + +My soul burns to have it over! And yet like a coward I refrain. But I +will not long submit to such contemptible qualms. I will not continue +to be diffident of myself; for it is that only by which I am withheld. +Not a single wrong is forgotten! I repeat them in my sleep! Ay, +Fairfax, such sleep as I have is nothing but a repetition of them; and +a rehearsal of the revenge by which they are to be appeased! I will +return tomorrow, or perhaps next day; and then--! You shall then hear +more from, + +C. CLIFTON + + +END OF VOLUME VI + + + + +VOLUME VII + + + +LETTER CXVI + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +Sir Arthur arrived in town this morning. He brought the usurer Henley +up with him in the same carriage. + +Young St. Ives set out before them, and was in London last night. He +drove directly to my lodgings, and I was fortunately at home. This did +not look as if I were in the secret; and if he had any suspicions he +had not the courage to intimate them. + +I condoled with him, said it was a strange affair, a riddle I could not +read, a mystery which time must elucidate, for it baffled all +conjecture. He did little more than echo me, and I pretended I would +have ridden half over the world to recover his sister, had there been +but the least clue; but there was not, and I found myself obliged to +sit still in despair and astonishment. + +He said it was all very true, and he was very tired. He should +therefore drive home, get some refreshment, and go to bed. This fellow, +Fairfax, walks on two legs, looks the world in the face, and counts for +one on the muster-roll. 'But nature, crescent in him, grew only in +thews and bulk.' Yet on the parade, fools and gapers will mistake him +for a man. + +Contention with Anna St. Ives is honourable, but to seem to shrink from +beings like these, or to practise concealment with such mere images of +entity, is repugnant to the generous scorn they merit and inspire. +Imperious necessity however prescribes law, and I took care to prevent +Sir Arthur's visit to me, by having notice sent me of his arrival, and +immediately going to the encounter. + +To anticipate is to overturn the card-castles of this puny race. Come +upon them unexpectedly, stare at them undauntedly, and interrogate them +abruptly, and they are put to the rout. Their looks even intreat pardon +for the ill they thought, but durst not utter. + +Sir Arthur I own beheld me with a suspicious eye; and though he +endeavoured to seem to credit me, he did it with an aukward air. + +Mrs. Clarke hearing I was there came in, and exceeding even all her +former fervour, importuned me, in the most direct and vehement manner, +to tell what I had done with Mr. Henley and her dear young lady. She +more than ever disconcerted me. Her exuberant passion addressed itself +alternately to me and her master. Her tears as well as her words were +abundant, her urgency and ardour extreme, and she ended her apostrophe +with again conjuring me to tell what was become of her dear, dear young +lady! + +'Ay, pray, pray do'--whimpered the baronet in a maudlin tone, moved by +the unfeigned passion of his housekeeper. I gave him a look, and the +driveller added--'if you know.' + +I was glad of a pretence to get away, and after telling him the +distress of his mind was the only apology for his conduct, I instantly +quitted him, without any effort on his part to detain me. + +Among other things, Mrs. Clarke repeatedly reproached herself for not +having written or sent to my sister; and the knight acknowledged--'Ay, +it was very neglectful! But his mind had been so disturbed that he had +forgotten it too!' + +Why do I misapply my time on beings so imbecile? Maugre all my resolves +I have not seen her yet, Fairfax! Nor have I opened her letter! I dare +not. Her Henley I am sure is in it, and additional rage would be +indubitable madness! Neither is this the thing most to be feared. She +has an expanded heart, a capacious a benevolent heart, and she may have +said something which were I to see, and yet do the deed which shall be +done, it might shew me more fiend-like than even the foul reflection of +my present thoughts. Perturbation has done its work; it needs no +increase. This quality of benevolence, in which they both glory, is +torture to recollect. I say, Fairfax, I never asked their charity. Did +I not spurn it from me, the moment I was insulted by the offer? Be pity +bestowed on beggars: the partiality that springs from affection, or the +punishment due to neglect for me! + +I will be with her speedily, Fairfax! Though I linger, I do not relent. +Such mercy as the being out of doubt can bestow she shall receive; the +pleading world should not wring a greater from me! + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. I must be speedy: my sister will hear of the affair by tomorrow's +post, and I shall have her whole artillery playing upon me; and in the +form of letters I suppose; for I do not think she will hope any thing +from personal interview; I made her too sensibly feel her own +insignificance when last we met. I expected indeed an attack from her +much sooner, for the young lady does not want confidence in her own +skill and courage: she is of the Henley school. However I do not intend +to peruse any of her epistles. I would send them back unopened, but +that it would be an avowal of a knowledge of their contents; and I have +no need to increase suspicion, whose broad eyes are already glaring at +me. But I will immediately put an end to the witch, and engender black +certainty in her stead! The imp shall appear, and shake horrors from +her snaky hair! + + + + +LETTER CXVII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +_The Lone House_ + +Once more, though but in imagination, let me converse with my friend. I +know it is delusion, but it was the sweet custom of our souls, and well +may be indulged. Ignorant perhaps of the cause, my Louisa is at this +moment accusing me of a neglect which my heart disavows. Let me as +usual give her the history of that heart: it is a theme from which she +has taught me to derive profit. + +This is the fifth day of my confinement. I have the same walls, the +same windows and bars to contemplate; and the same bolting, and +locking, and clanking to hear. It is with difficulty that I can at some +few intervals divert my thoughts from the gloom which my own situation, +the distress of my family, and the danger of a youth so dear to virtue +contribute to inspire. + +Nor do I know what at this moment may be the affliction of my friend. +Should she have heard, she cannot but discover the principal agent of +this dark plot; and exquisite indeed would be the anguish of her mind, +could she forget that fortitude and resignation are duties. May they +never be forgotten by me, during this my hour of trial! + +My shoulder I fear has received some strain or hurt: the pain of it +continues to be great, and the inflammation is not abated. The bruises +on my arms have increased in blackness, and their tension is not in the +least diminished. The hands of those bad men must have been as rough +and callous as their hearts: they had no mercy in their gripe. + +There is a lonesome stillness in this house, that favours the dismal +reveries which my situation suggests. If my handkerchief do but drop I +start; and the stirring of a mouse places Clifton full before me. Yet I +repel this weakness with all my force. I despise it. Nor shall these +crude visions, the hideous phantoms of the imagination, subdue that +fortitude in which I must wholly confide. + +For these last two days, Laura has pretended to grieve at confinement: +but it is mimic sorrow; words of which the heart has no knowledge. She +perceives I suspect her, and her acting is but the more easily +detected. + +I know not whether it be not my duty to determine to exclude her; +though that seems like cowardice. I think it is not in her power to +harm me; and for telling, if she have been false, she has done her +worst. I never made a practice of concealment, neither will I now have +recourse to such a fallacious expedient. Yet she sleeps in the same +chamber with me; and ought I not to beware of inspiring perfidy with +projects? 'Tis true my slumbers are broken, my nights restless, and the +cracking of the wainscot is as effectual in waking me as a thunder-clap +could be. I am resolved, however, to take the key out of the door, and +either hide it or hold it all night in my hand. Mischief is meant me, +or why am I here? + +I am continually looking into the closets, behind the doors, and under +the beds and drawers. I am haunted by the supposition that I shall +every moment see this bad man start up before me! What know I of the +base engines he may employ, or the wicked arts to which he may have +recourse? + +But he shall not subdue me! He may disturb me by day, and terrify me by +night; but he shall not subdue me! Shall the pure mind shake in the +presence of evil? Shall the fortitude which safety feels vanish at the +approach of danger? + +Louisa, I will steel my soul to meet him! I know not how or when he +will come! I cannot tell what are the vile black instruments with which +he may work! Sleep I scarcely have any. I eat with hesitation, and +drink with trembling. I have heard of potions and base practices, that +make the heart shudder! Yet I sometimes think I could resist even +these. He shall not subdue me! Or if he do, it shall be by treachery +such as fiends would demur to perpetrate. + +Why do I think thus of him? Surely, surely, he cannot be so lost as +this! Yet here I am! I own I tremble and recoil; but it is with the +dread that he should plunge himself so deep in guilt as never more to +rise! + +Poor Frank! Where art thou? How are thy wretched thoughts employed? Or +art thou still allowed to think? Art thou among the living? If thou +art, what is thy state! Thine is now the misery of impotence, thou who +hast proved thyself so mighty in act! Thou wouldst not strike, thou +wouldst not injure; and yet thy foe would sink before thee, had he not +allied himself to perfidy, and had he but left thee free. His most +secret machinations could not have withstood thy searching spirit. Thou +wouldst have been here! These bolts would have flown, these doors would +have opened, and I should have seen my saviour! + +He hears me not! Nor thou, Louisa! I am destitute of human aid! + +Farewell, farewell! Ah! Farewell indeed; for I am talking to emptiness +and air! + +Do I seem to speak with bitterness of heart? Is there enmity in my +words?--Surely I do not feel it! The spirit of benevolence and truth +allows, nay commands me to hate the vice; but not its poor misgoverned +agents. They are wandering in the maze of mistake. Ignorance and +passion are their guides, and doubt and desperation their tormentors. +Alas! Rancour and revenge are their inmates; be kindness and charity +mine. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CXVIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_Brompton-House_ + +I am here--At the scene of action--she is in the room above me, and I +am ridding myself of reluctance; stringing my nerves for assault. I +know not why this should be necessary, but I feel that it is! + +I am waiting to question Laura; but I ordered her to be in no haste to +come down, when she heard me ring. I would not have my victim suspect +me to be here. I would come upon her by surprise, and not when she was +armed and prepared for repulse. I will order the old woman to go +presently and open and shut the gate; as if she were letting the person +out, who came in when I rung. + +I expect, nay am certain, her resistance will be obstinate--But +unavailing!--I say unavailing!--Neither house nor road are near, and +yet I could wish the scene were removed to the dark gloom of a forest; +embosomed where none but tigers or hyenas should listen to her +shrieks--I know they will be piercing;--Heart-rending!--But--! + +I tell you, Fairfax, I have banished all sense of human pity from my +bosom: it is an enemy to my purpose, and that must be!--Though the +heavens should shake and the earth open, it must! + +Yet do not think, Fairfax, bent as I am on the full fruition of love +and vengeance, I would use cruelty--Understand me: I mean wanton or +unnecessary brutality. I will be as forbearing as she will permit. I +fear she will not suffer me to caress her tenderly--But she shall never +sleep in the arms of Henley!--She never shall!--I will make sure of +that! My mind is reconciled to all chances, that excepted. + +As I passed, I called at the mad-house; where I found Mac Fane and the +scowling keeper in high divan. They have been horribly alarmed. Henley +has attempted an escape, which he was in danger of effecting; but he is +brought back, after having led them a short chase. + +The apprehensions of these scoundrels concerning future consequences +are very great, and swell almost to terror. They talked strangely, +asked which way we were to get rid of him at last, and conceive him to +be a dangerous enemy. Their thoughts seem tinged with dark lurkings, +which they dare not own; and certainly dare not act, without my leave. +These fellows are all villainy! A league with demons would be less +abominable!--I must close the account, and shake off such pestilential +scoundrels!-- + +Laura comes! I will question her a little, and then--! + +_Dover-Street_ + + +I am returned, and am still tormented by delay!--I cannot help it--I +said I would not use wilful cruelty: that were to heap unnecessary +damnation! + +Laura began by softening my heart with her narrative. Her angel +mistress is all resignation, all kindness, all benevolence! She almost +forgets herself, and laments only for me! This I could have withstood; +but she has been brutally treated, by that intolerable ban dog, Mac +Fane, and his blood hounds. Fairfax, how often have I gazed in rapture +at the beauteous carnation of her complexion, the whiteness of her +hands and arms, and the extreme delicacy of their texture! And now +those tempting arms, Laura tells me, nay, her legs too, are in twenty +places disfigured and black, with the gripes and bruises she received. +Gibbets and racks overtake the wolf-hearted villains! Her shoulder is +considerably hurt! It is inflamed, and, as she acknowledges, very +painful; yet she does not utter a complaint! + +Why did this heroic woman ever injure me? By what fatal influence am I +become her foe? Her gentle kindness, her calm, unruffled, yet dignified +patience I have experienced--Madman!--Idiot!--Have I not experienced +her hatred too, her abhorrence? Did not her own lips pronounce the +sentence? And do I not know her? Will she recede? And shall +I?--Never!--Never!--No no--It must be. + +But I did rightly. This was not the moment. There would have been +something barbarously mean, in making her exert the little strength she +has with such pain and peril. + +I rode to Kensington and procured her a lenitive, with which I +returned. The purpose of vengeance excepted, I would feel as generously +as herself; and even vengeance, did I know how, I would dignify--But do +not surmise that I would retract!--No, by heaven! A thought so weak has +never once entered my heart! + +I am restless, and must return--Till it be over, earth has no pleasure +for me; and after I am sure it will have none. No--No--I have but this +single gleam of satisfaction! The light is going out; give me but one +full blaze, and I shall then welcome total darkness! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXIX + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +For a few days after having secured my tormentors, I enjoyed something +like comparative ease: but the ugly imps that haunted me, in fiercer +crowds again are swarming round me. I am too miserable to exist in this +state; it must be ended. It is a turmoil that surpasses mortal +sufferance! If she will wrestle against fate, it is not my fault. I +have no wish to practise more upon her than is necessary. But the thing +must be. + +Sleep I have none, rest I have none, peace I have none. I get up and +sit down, walk out and come back, mutter imprecations unconsciously to +myself, and turn the eyes of insolent curiosity and ridiculous +apprehension upon me in the street. A fellow has just now watched me +home; deeming me a lunatic I suppose; for he had seen my agitation, and +heard the curses which I knew not were uttered aloud, till his +impertinent observation of me brought it to my recollection. + +But this shall not be! It shall end! Though I rend her heart-strings +for it, I will have ease! The evening approaches; my horse is ordered +and I will be gone. I will not, cannot endure this longer! + +_Brompton-House_ + + +I am here, and have talked with Laura. She owns she is suspected, and +that her mistress takes the key out of the bed-chamber door, when they +go to rest, and hides it: Laura by accident has discovered where. She +puts it on the ledge behind the head of her bed, but within the reach +of her arm. + +This has suggested a thought: I will wait here till midnight and sleep +have lulled her apprehensions. It will be better than facing her in the +glare of day. Her eye, Fairfax, is terrible in her anger. It is too +steady, too strong in conscious innocence to encounter. Darkness will +give me courage, and her terror and despair. For it must come to that! +It cannot otherwise be; and be it must! In the blaze of noon, when +fortitude is awake and the heart beating high perhaps with resentment, +nothing but the goadings of despair could make me face her. The words +she would use would be terrible, but her looks would petrify!--By this +stratagem I shall avoid them. + +Nor do I blush to own my cowardice, in the presence of Anna St. Ives: +she being armed with innocence and self-approbation; and I abashed by +conscious guilt, violence, and intentional destruction. + +Why aye!--Let the thick swarth of night cover us! I feel, with a kind +of horrid satisfaction, the deep damnation of the deed! It is the very +colour and kind of sin that becomes me; sinning as I do against Anna +St. Ives! With any other it would be boy's sport; a thing to make a +jest of after dinner; but with her it is rape, in all its wildest +contortions, shrieks, and expiring groans! + +I lie stretched on burning embers, and I have hours yet to wait. Oh +that I were an idiot!--The night is one dead, dun gloom! It looks as if +murrain, mildew, and contagion were abroad, hovering over earth and +brooding plagues. I will walk out awhile, among them--Will try to meet +them--Would that my disturbed imagination could but conjure up goblins, +sheeted ghosts, heads wanting bodies, and hands dropping blood, and +realize the legends of ignorance and infancy, so that I could freeze +memory and forget the horrors by which I am haunted! + +It draws near midnight--I am now in her apartment, the room next to her +bed-chamber. + +My orders have been obeyed: the old woman, pretending to lock up her +prisoner, shot back the bolts, put down the chain, and left the door +ready for me to enter unheard. + +Laura has her instructions. She is to pretend only, but not really, to +undress herself; and I bade her not lie down, lest she should drop +asleep. When she thinks it time, she is to glide round, steal the key, +and open the door. + +I am fully prepared; am undressed, and ready for the combat. I have +made a mighty sacrifice! Youth, fortune, fame, all blasted; life +renounced, and infamy ascertained! It is but just then that I should +have full enjoyment of the fleeting bliss. + +Surely this hussy sleeps? No!--I hear her stir!--She is at the door! +And now--! + +Heaven and hell are leagued against me, to frustrate my success! Yet +succeed I will in their despite--'Tis now broad day, and here I am, in +the same chamber, encountered, reproved, scorned, frantic, and +defeated! + +As soon as I heard Laura with the key in the door, I put out the +candles. She turned the lock, the door opened, and I sprang forward. +Blundering idiot as I was! I had forgotten to remove a chair, and +tumbled over it. The terrified Anna was up and out of bed in an +instant. The door opens inward to the bed-chamber. Her fear gave her +strength; she threw Laura away, and clapped to the door. + +By this time I had risen, and was at it. I set my shoulder to it with a +sudden effort, and again it half opened. I pushed forward, but was +repelled with more than equal opposition. My left arm in the struggle +got wedged in the door: the pain was excessive, and the strength with +which she resisted me incredible. By a sudden shock I released my hand, +but not without bruising it very much, and tearing away the skin. + +My last effort was returned by one more than equal on her part. But I +imagine she had set her foot against something which gave way, for she +suddenly came down, with a blow and a sound that made my heart shrink! + +Still I endeavoured to profit by it, though not soon enough; for the +first moment I was too much alarmed. She could not feel pain or blows, +and rose instantaneously. I forced the door some little way, and she +then gave a single shriek!--It was a dreadful one--and was followed +by a repulse which I could not overcome. The door was closed, and +like lightning locked. I then heard her begin to pant and heave for +breath--After a few seconds she exclaimed--Clifton! You are a bad +man!... A treacherous, wicked man, and are seeking your own +destruction!... I am your prisoner, but I fear you not!... Mark me, +Clifton: I fear you not! + +I hesitated some time: at last I ventured to ask... Are you hurt, +madam? + +I do not know! I do not care! I value no hurt you can do me! I am above +harm from you!--Though you have recourse to perfidy and violence, yet I +defy you! In darkness or in light, I defy you! + +Let me intreat you, madam, to retire to rest. + +No! I will stand here all night! I will not move! + +Upon my honour, madam, upon my soul, I will molest you no more to +night! + +I tell you, man, I fear you not! Night or day, I fear you not! + +I request, I humbly intreat you would not expose yourself to the +injuries of the night air, and the want of sleep! + +I will sleep no more! I want no sleep; I fear no injuries; not even +those you intend me! + +Indeed, madam, you do not know the danger-- + +Mimic benevolence and virtue no more, Clifton! It is base in you! It is +beneath a mind like yours!--You are a mistaken man! Dreadfully +mistaken! You think me devoted, but I am safe. Unless you kill, you +never can conquer me! Beware! Turn back! Destruction is gaping for you, +if you proceed! + +Need she have told me this, Fairfax? Could she think I knew it +not?--But she too is mistaken. Her courage is high, I grant, is +admirable; and, were any other but I her opponent, as she says, not +to be conquered! I adore the noble qualities of her mind; but great +though they are, when she defies me she over-rates them. + +I own her warning was awful! My heart shrunk from it, and I retired; +taking care that she should hear me as I went, that she might be +encouraged to go to rest. My well-meant kindness was vain. She never +did confide in me, and never can. I heard her call Laura, and order her +to strike a light, set an arm chair, and bring her clothes: after which +I understood, from what I heard, that she dressed herself and sat down +in it, with her back to the door, there waiting patiently till the +morning. + +How she will behave, or what she will say to Laura I cannot divine. +Most probably she will insist on banishing her the apartment; for she +never gave servants much employment, and always doubted whether the +keeping of them were not an immoral act, therefore is little in want of +their assistance. + +But let her discard this treacherous and now ineffective tool. I want +her no more. I will not quit the house, Fairfax; I will neither eat nor +sleep, till I have put her to the trial which she so rashly defies! At +her uncle's table she defied me, and imagined she had gazed me into +cowardice. She knew me not: it was but making vengeance doubly sure. +This experience ere now should have taught her. Has she escaped me? Is +she not here? Does she not feel herself in the ravisher's arms? If not, +a few hours only and she shall! + +Let her not be vain of this second repulse she has given me; it ought +to increase her terror, for it does but add to my despair. My +distempered soul will take no medicine but one, and that must be +administered; though more venomous than the sting of scorpion or tooth +of serpent, and more speedy in dissolution. + +I left her room that she might breakfast undisturbed. There is +something admirably, astonishingly firm, in the texture of her mind. +Laura has been down, babbling to me all she knew. At eight o'clock, +when it had been light a full hour, Anna, after once or twice crossing +her chamber to consider, turned the key and resolutely opened the door; +expecting by her manner, Laura says, to see me rush in; for she threw +it suddenly open, as if fearful it should knock her down. + +She walked out, looked steadfastly around, examined every part of the +chamber, and after having convinced herself I was not there, sat down +to write at the table where not an hour before I had been seated. +When the breakfast was brought, she bade Laura take it away again; +saying she had no appetite: but immediately recollecting herself, +ejaculated--'Fie!--It is weak! It is wrong!'--and added--'Stay Laura! +Put it down again!' + +She then, with a calm and determined sedateness, began to serve herself +and Laura; treating this perfidious woman [For no matter that I made +her so, such she is.] with the same equanimity of temper and amenity as +formerly. The mistress ate, for she was innocent and resolved; but the +maid could not, for she was guilty and in a continual tremor. 'Be +pacified'--said Anna to her--Compose your thoughts, and take your +breakfast. I am much more sorry for than angry at the part you have +acted. You have done yourself great injury, but me none: at least, so I +trust!--Be appeased and eat your breakfast. Or, if you cannot eat with +me, go down and eat it in peace below.' + +The benevolent suavity of this angel has made the light-minded hussey +half break her heart. Her penitential tears now flow in abundance; and +she has been officiously endeavouring to petition me not to harm so +good, so forgiving, so heavenly a young lady! I begin to fear she would +willingly be a traitor next to me, and endeavour to open the doors for +her mistress. But that I will prevent. I will not quit the house till +all is over! I have said it, Fairfax! + +I will then immediately set Henley free, tell him where she is, where I +am to be found, and leave him to seek his own mode of vengeance! Should +he resort to the paltry refuge of law, I own that then I would elude +pursuit. But should the spirit of man stir within him, and should he +dare me to contention, I would fly to meet him in the mortal strife! He +is worthy of my arm, and I would shew how worthy I am to be his +opposite! + +It is now noon, and Laura has again been with me, repeating the same +story, with additions and improvements. Anna has been talking to her, +and has made a deep impression upon her. She is all penitence and +petition, and is exceedingly troublesome, with her whining, her tears, +and her importunity, which I have found it difficult to silence. + +I learn from her own account she has owned all, and betrayed all she +knew; and Anna has been telling her that she, and I, and all such +sinners however deep and deadly, ought to be pitied, counselled, and +reformed; and that our errors only ought to be treated with contempt, +disdain, and hatred. She has talked to her in the most gentle, +soothing, and sympathetic manner; till the fool's heart is ready to +burst. + +Anna has drawn a picture of my state of mind which has terrified +her--And so it ought!--She has been sobbing, kneeling, and praying, +for my sake, for Anna's sake, for God's sake to be merciful, and do +no more mischief! 'Her mistress is an angel and not a woman!'--Why +true!--'Never had a young lady so forgiving, so kind, and so courageous +a heart!'--True again!--'But it is impossible, if I should be so wicked +as to lay violent hands upon her, for her not to sink, and lie for +mercy at my feet.'--Once more true, true!-- + +Mercy!--I have it not, know it not, nor can know! She herself has +banished it, from my breast and from her own: at least the mercy I +would ask--For could it be--? Were there not a Henley--? No, no!--There +is one wide destruction for us all! I am on the brink, and they must +down with me!--Have they not placed me there? Are they not now pulling +me, weighing me, sinking me? + +This is the moment in which I would conjure up all the wrongs, insults, +contempts, and defiances she has heaped upon me--What need I?--They +come unbidden!--And now for the last act of the tragedy! + +I have kept my word, Fairfax: I have been, have faced her, have--! You +shall hear! I will faithfully paint all that passed. I will do her +justice, and in this shew some sparks of magnanimity of which perhaps +she does not think me capable--No matter-- + +It was necessary the temper of my mind should be wound up to its +highest pitch, before I could approach her. I rushed up stairs, made +the bolts fly, and the lock start back. Yet the moment the door opened, +I hesitated-- + +However, I shook myself with indignation, entered, and saw her standing +firmly in the middle of the apartment, ready to assert the bold +defiance she had given me. The fixed resolution of her form, the +evident fortitude of her soul, and the steadfast encounter of her eye, +were discomfiting. Like a coward I stood I cannot tell how long, not +knowing what to say, she looking full upon me, examining my heart, and +putting thought to the rack. Benignant as she is, at such onsets of the +soul she feels no mercy. + +Self-resentment at the tame crestfallen countenance I wore at last +produced an effort, and I stammered out--Madam-- + +Her only answer was a look--I endeavoured to meet her eye, but in vain. + +I continued.--From my present manner you will perceive, madam, I am +conscious of the advantage you have over me; and that my own heart does +not entirely approve all I have done. + +I see something of your confusion--I wish I saw more. + +But neither can it forget its injuries! + +What are they? + +The time was when I met you with joy, addressed you with delight, and +gazed on you with rapture!--Nay I gaze so still! + +Poor, weak man! + +Yes, madam, I know how much you despise me! A thousand repeated wrongs +inform me of it: they have risen, one over another, in mountainous +oppression to my heart, till it could endure no more. + +Feeble, mistaken man! + +In those happy days when I approached you first, my thoughts were +loyal, my means were honest, and my intentions pure. + +Pure? + +Yes, madam, pure. + +You never yet knew what purity meant! + +I came void of guile, with an open and honourable offer of my heart. I +made no difficulties, felt no scruples, harboured no suspicions. In +return for which I was doubted, catechised, chidden, trifled with, and +insulted. When I hoped for sympathy I met rebuke; and while my +affections glowed admiration yours retorted contempt. Your heart was +prepossessed: it had no room for me: it excluded me, scorned me, and at +the first opportunity avowed its hatred. + +Go on!--Neither your mistakes, your accusations, nor your anger shall +move me--I pity your errors. Continue to ascribe that to my injustice, +or to a worse motive, if a worse you can find, which was the proper +fruit of your irascible and vindictive temper. Reconcile your own +actions to your own heart, if you can; and prove to yourself I merit +the perfidy, assault, and imprisonment you have practised upon me: as +well as the mischief which I have every reason to suppose you intend. + +Then, madam, avoid it! Spare both yourself and me the violence you +forebode? + +What! Sink before unruly passion? Stand in awe of vice? Willingly +administer to shameless appetites, and a malignant spirit of +revenge?--Never, while I have life! + +Stop!--Beware!--I am not master of my own affections! I am in a state +little short of phrensy! Be the means fair or foul, mine you shall +be--The decrees of Fate are not more fixed--I have sworn it, and though +fire from Heaven waited to devour me, I will keep my oath!--Could you +even yet but think of me as perhaps I deserve--! I say, could you, +madam-- + +I cannot will not marry you! Nothing you can say, nothing you can +threaten, nothing you can act shall make me! + +Be less hasty in your contempt!--Fear me not!--Scorn for scorn, injury +for injury, and hate for hate! + +I hate only your errors! I scorn nothing but vice--On the virtues of +which a mind like yours is capable my soul would dilate with ecstasy, +and my heart would doat! But you have sold yourself to crookedness! +Base threats, unmanly terrors, and brute violence are your despicable +engines!--Wretched man! They are impotent!--They turn upon yourself; me +they cannot harm!--I am above you! + +I care not for myself--I have already secured infamy--I have paid +the price and will enjoy the forfeiture--Had you treated me with the +generous ardent love I so early felt for you, all had been well--I the +happiest of men, and you the first of women! But your own injustice +has dug the pit into which we must all down--It is wide and welcome +ruin!--Even now, contemned as I have been, scorned as I am, I would +fain use lenity and feel kindness. I will take retribution--no power +shall prevent me--but I would take it tenderly. + +Oh shame upon you, man!--Tenderly?--Can the mischief and the misery in +which you have involved yourself and so many others, can treachery, +brutal force, bruises, imprisonment, and rape be coupled with +tenderness? If you have any spark of noble feeling yet remaining in +your heart, cherish it: but if not, speak truth to yourself! Do not +attempt to varnish such foul and detestable guilt with fair words. + +I would advise, not varnish! What I have done I have done--I know my +doom--I am already branded! Opprobrium has set her indelible mark upon +me! I am indexed to all eternity! + +You mistake, Clifton!--Beware!--You mistake! You mistake! [It is +impossible to imagine, Fairfax, the energy with which these +exclamations burst from her--It was a fleeting but false cordial to my +heart.] Of all your errors that is the most fatal! Whatever rooted +prejudices or unjust laws may assert to the contrary, we are +accountable only for what we do, not for what we have done. Clifton +beware! Mark me--I owe you no enmity for the past: I combat only with +the present. + +Do not delude me with shadows. Bring your doctrine to the test: if you +bear me no enmity, if what I have done can be forgotten, and what I +would do--! Madam--! Anna--!--Once more, and for the last time--take +me! + +It cannot be!--It cannot be! + +Then, since you will shew no mercy, expect none. + +Your menaces are vain, man! I tell you again I do not fear you! I will +beg no pity from you--I dare endure more than you dare inflict! + +I am not to be braved from my purpose! The basis of nature is not more +unshaken! High as your courage is, you will find a spirit in me that +can mount still higher! + +Courage? Oh shame! Name it not! Where was your courage when you decoyed +my defender from me? The man you durst not face?--Where is he?--What +have you done with him?--Laura has given you my letter--Should your +practices have reached his life!--But no! It cannot be! An act +so very vile as that not even the errors of your mind could +reach!--Courage?--Even me you durst not face in freedom! Your courage +employed a band of ruffians against me, singly; a woman too, over whom +your manly valour would tower! But there is no such mighty difference +as prejudice supposes. Courage has neither sex nor form: it is an +energy of mind, of which your base proceedings shew I have infinitely +the most. This bids me stand firm, and meet your worst daring +undauntedly! This be assured will make me the victor! I tell you, man, +it places me above you! + +Urge me no more!--Beware of me! You have driven me mad! Do not tempt a +desperate man! Resistance will be destruction to you, no matter that to +me it be perdition! My account is closed, and I am reconciled to +ruin!--You shall be mine!--Though hell gape for me you shall be +mine!--Once more beware! I warn you not to contend! + +Why, man, what would you do? Is murder your intent?--While I have life +I fear you not!--And think you that brutality can taint the dead? Nay, +think you that, were you endowed with the superior force which the vain +name of man supposes, and could accomplish the basest purpose of your +heart, I would falsely take guilt to myself; or imagine I had received +the smallest blemish, from impurity which never reached my mind? That I +would lament, or shun the world, or walk in open day oppressed by shame +I did not merit? No!--For you perhaps I might weep, but for myself I +would not shed a tear! Not a tear!--You cannot injure me--I am above +you!--If you mean to deal me blows or death, here I stand ready to +suffer: but till I am dead, or senseless, I defy you to do me +harm!--Bethink you, Clifton! I see the struggles of your soul: there +is virtue among them. Your eye speaks the reluctance of your +hand. Your heart spurns at the mischief your passions would +perpetrate!--Remember--Unless you have recourse to some malignant, some +cruel, some abominable means, you never shall accomplish so base a +purpose!--But you cannot be so guilty, Clifton!--You cannot!--I know +not by what perverse fatality you have been misled, for you have a mind +fitted for the sublimest emanations of virtue!--No, you cannot!--There +is something within you that lays too strong a hand upon you! Malice +so black is beyond you! Your very soul abhors its own guilt, and is +therefore driven frantic!--Oh, Clifton! You that were born to be the +champion of truth, the instructor of error, and the glory of the +earth!--My heart yearns over you--Awake!--Rise!--Be a man! + +Divine, angelic creature!--Fool, madman, villain! + +With these exclamations I instantly burst from the chamber--Conviction, +astonishment, remorse, tenderness, all the passions that could subdue +the human soul rushed upon me, till I could support no more. + +Of all the creatures God ever formed she is the most wonderful!--I have +repeated something like her words; but had you seen her gestures, her +countenance, her eye, her glowing indignant fortitude at one moment, +and her kindling comprehensive benevolence the next, like me you would +have felt an irresistible impulse to catch some spark of a flame so +heavenly! + +And now what is to be done? I am torn by contending passions!--If I +release her there is an end to all; except to my disgrace, which will +be everlasting--Give her to the arms of Henley?--I cannot bear it, +Fairfax!--I cannot bear it!--Death, racks, infamy itself to such a +thought were infinitude of bliss! + +What can I do? She says truly: conquest over her, by any but brutal +means, is impossible--Shall I be brutal?--And more brutal even than my +own ruffian agents? + +She has magnanimity--But what have those cyphers of beings who call +themselves her relations? Shall they mount the dunghill of their +vanity, clap their wings, and exult, as if they too had conquered a +Clifton? Even the villain Mac Fane would not fail to scout at me! Nay +the very go-between, the convenient chamber-maid herself, forgetting +the lightness of her own heels, would bless herself and claim her share +in the miraculous virtue of the sex! What! Become the scoff of the +tea-table, the bugbear of the bed-chamber, and the standing jest of the +tavern?--I will return this instant, Fairfax, and put her boasted +strength and courage to the proof--Madness!--I forget that nothing less +than depriving her of sense can be effectual. She knows her strong +hold: victory never yet was gained by man, singly, over woman, who was +not willing to be vanquished. + +I will not yield her up, Fairfax!--She never shall be Henley's!--Again +and again she never shall!--I dared not meet him!--So she told +me!--Ha!--Dare not?--I will still devise a means--I will have my +revenge!--This vaunted Henley then shall know how much I dare!--I will +conquer!--Should I be obliged to come like Jove to Semele, in flames, +and should we both be reduced to ashes in the conflict, I will enjoy +her!--Let one urn hold our dust; and when the fire has purified it of +its angry and opposing particles, perhaps it may mingle in peace. + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXX + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +It shall not be!--She shall not escape me thus!--I will not endure this +insufferable, this contemptible recantation of my wrongs! Fear is +beneath me, and what have I to hope? I have made misery certain! I have +paid the price of destruction, and will hug it to my heart! I know how +often I have prevaricated, and have loitered with revenge; but I have +not lost the flame: it burns still, and never shall expire! + +The night at Brompton, though a night of storms and evil augury, was +heaven to the one I have just passed. Sleep and rest have forsaken me. +'Tis long since I closed my eyes; I know not indeed when; but last +night I did not attempt it. I traversed my room, opened my windows, +shut them again, listened to the discontented monotony of the watchman +without hearing him, thought over my never-forgotten injuries, my +vengeance, and all the desolation that is to follow, and having ended +began again! + +There were shrieks and cries of murder in the street, about midnight; +and this was the only music by which I remember to have been roused. +But it was momentary. My reveries returned, and scenes of horror rose, +more swarming, dun, and ghastly! + +My waking dreams are eternal--Well, so I would have them! +They prolong revenge!--I would have him by the throat for +ages!--Him!--Henley!--Would--grapple with him; would stab and be +stabbed; not in the fictions of a torturing fancy, but arm to arm, +steel to steel, poison to poison! Ay, did I not know he would refuse +my fair challenge, hero though he be and cased in innocence, I would +instantly fly to let him loose upon me, that I might turn and tear him! + +Why that were delectable!--And can it not be?... Can no sufferings +move, no wrongs provoke, no taunts stir him to resentment? Is he God, +or is he man? To me he is demon, legion, and has possessed me wholly! + +Liar that I am! How came I to forget the beauteous sorceress with whom +I found him leagued? I have heard them called angels of light; but I +have known them only fiends! They goad me with their virtues, mock at +my phrensy, defy my rage; and though surrounded by rape, destruction, +and despair, sleep and smile, while I wake and howl! + +Injury and insult are busy with me! This sister of mine is in town at +Sir Arthur's. As she has made the journey I may expect a visit from her +soon: but she shall find no admission here. I want no more tormentors! + +As I foreboded, she has just been, and has behaved in character. She +would take no denial from the valet; he was but an infant to the +Amazon; she would herself see if I were at home, and in she came. The +fellow does not want cunning, and he ran up stairs before her, and +called out aloud, purposely for me to hear--'You may see, madam, if you +please; the door is locked, and my master has taken the key with him.' + +He knew I was determined not to see her, and while he designedly made +all the clatter he could, and placed himself before the entrance, I +took the means he had devised. She came, turned him aside, examined the +door, pushed violently against it, and I believe would willingly have +broken it open; but finding her good intentions, I set my shoulder to +the panel, taking care not to impede the light through the keyhole, +which my valet tells me was inspected by her. She ruminated a few +seconds and then went away; incredulous and high in indignation. + +Well!--I sought for warfare, and it has found me. My former encounters +it seems were but the skirmishes of a partisan: this is a deadly and +decisive battle! + +It is now five o'clock, and I have had a stirring morning. So much the +better; action is relief. A message came to me from Lord Fitz-Allen, +desiring to speak with me. I had an inclination not to have gone; but +reflecting further I determined to obey his summons. + +However, when I sent up my name, I desired to know if my sister were +there; and was answered in the negative. I then made my bow to his +lordship, taking care to inform him that my sister behaved with great +impropriety, and that I was resolved not to see her, lest I too should +forget that respect due to my family and myself which she had violated. +The peer began with circumlocutory hints concerning the elopement--'An +unaccountable affair!--No tidings had yet arrived!--Surmises +and rumours of a very strange and dishonourable nature were +whispered!--Mischief, rape, nay even murder were dreaded!' + +I refused to interpret any of these insinuations as applicable to +myself. At last his lordship, after many efforts, said he had a favour +to beg of me, which he hoped I should not think unreasonable. I desired +him to inform me what this favour was; and put some firmness in my +manner, that his lordship might see I was not in a temper to suffer an +insult. + +He answered, for his own part, he had no doubts: he knew my family, and +had always affirmed I could not act unworthy of the gentleman. But, for +the peace of mind of Sir Arthur and the other relations of the young +lady, he would esteem it an obligation done to him, if I would declare, +upon my honour, that I knew nothing of her elopement; of the place she +has been conveyed to, or where she is at present. + +I then retorted upon his lordship, that the preface to this request +entirely precluded compliance; that those who whispered and spread +surmises, and rumours, must be answerable for the consequences of their +own officiousness; and that with respect to myself, I should certainly, +under such circumstances, refuse to answer to interrogatories. + +My tone was not very conciliatory, and his lordship knew not whether to +be angry or pleased. But while he was pondering I thought proper to +make my exit; and leave him to settle the contest between his pride and +his puerility as well as he was able. + +At my return I found a letter from my sister, which I will neither +answer nor open. I have my fill of fury, and want no more! + +Damnation on their insolence! They have been making application to the +office at Bow-Street! A request has just been sent me, a very soft and +civil one it is true, from the sitting magistrate, that I would do him +the honour to come and speak a word with him, on an affair that +concerned a very great and respectable family. I returned for answer +that I was engaged, and that I should notice no such messages: but that +if any man, great or small, had to complain of me, the law understood +its duty, and that I should be readily found at all times. + +Whether this be the motion of my superb and zealous sister, or of the +arrogant peer, is more than I can divine. But I shall know some day, +and shall then perhaps strike a balance. + +I have no doubt that emissaries and scouts are abroad, and that I am +watched. I was this evening to have met Mac Fane at the Shakespeare; +but I will not go. Yet as it is pay night, the hungry scoundrel must +not be disappointed. I will therefore write a note to him, and invite +him to come and sup with me. He will be an agreeable companion! But +even his company is better, at this moment, than solitude. + +I will not let my servant carry the note directly to him; for if they +have their spies in the field, that might be dangerous. He shall take +it to the Mount coffee-house, and there get a chairman to convey it +in safety. I will tell Mac Fane likewise to come through the shop +door; for I am only in lodgings; and to step immediately out of a +hackney-coach. I laugh at their counterplots, and wish I had nothing +more to disturb me than the fear of being detected by any exertion of +their cunning, even though my kind sister be appointed their commander +in chief. + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. They might have served the cause in which they have engaged more +effectually, had their proceedings been less violent and offensive. +They do but nerve me in resolution. The less public they had made the +affair the more they would have shewn their generalship. If they be +thus determined to brand me, can they suppose that my vengeance shall +not outstrip theirs? I own I am perplexed about the means--Invention +fails me! I have debated whether I should call in the aid of Mac Fane; +but the idea is too detestable!--No! I would rather take a pair of +pistols, and dispatch her first and myself next, than expose her +beauties to such ruffian despicable rascals!--Beside I would have her +will concerned--And how to conquer that?--I shall be driven, I foresee +I shall, to some unheard-of act of desperation!--Drugs are a mean a +pitiful expedient: not to mention that she is aware of them, and uses a +kind of caution which it would be difficult to overcome. She reserves +the meal of one day for the next, after having suffered Laura to eat +her part; so that inanity, sleep or other effects, if produced, would +first appear in the maid. This perhaps is one of the reasons by which +she is induced still to keep her: and were she removed, and could +suspect it were for this purpose, I am convinced she would eat no +more--No!--She must be fairly told the deep despair of my mind! and if +that will not move her, why then--Death! + + + + +LETTER CXXI + +_Louisa Clifton to her brother Coke Clifton_ + +_Grosvenor-Street_ + +Where is Anna St. Ives?--Where is my friend? Where is the youth to whom +you owe existence?--Man of revenge, answer me! Oh God! O God!--Is it +possible?--Can it be that you, Coke Clifton, the son of my mother, the +hoped for friend of my heart, the expected champion of virtue, can turn +aside to such base and pitiful vice; such intolerable, such absurd, +such deep hypocrisy? And why? What cause? Is this the reward of their +uncommon virtues? + +And you, Oh man! Did they not labour hourly, incessantly, with the +purity of saints and the ardour of angels, to do you good? Was it not +their sole employment; their first duty, and their dearest hope? Did +they ever deviate? Did they not return urbanity for arrogance, kindness +for contempt, and life for blows?--Can you, Clifton, dare you be thus +wicked? And will you persist?-- + +If you have brought them to harm, if your practices have reached their +lives, earth does not contain so foul, so wicked a monster!-- + +Surely this cannot be! Surely you have some drop of mother's blood in +you, and cannot be actuated by a spirit so wholly demon! + +What shall I do? What shall I say? How shall I awaken a soul so steeped +in iniquity, so dead to excellence, so obstinate in ill?--Clifton!--You +were not formed for this! You have a mind that might have been the fit +companion of divine natures!--It may be still!--Awake! View the light, +and turn from crimes, pollution, and abhorrence, to virtue, love, and +truth! + +Know you not the beaming charity of her whom you persecute, if--Oh +God!--Surely this is vain terror! Surely Anna St. Ives is still among +the living!-- + +Clifton, once again I say, remember the untainted benevolence of her +soul! Is it, can it be forgotten by you? Which of your good qualities +was ever forgotten by her? Hear her describe them in her own +language![1] + +[Footnote 1: Here follow numerous extracts from the letters of Anna St. +Ives; all expressive of the high qualities and powers of Mr. Clifton, +of the delight they gave her, and the hopes they inspired. They are +omitted here, because it is probable they are fresh in the reader's +memory: if not, it will be easy to turn to Anna's letters; particularly +to letters XXIV. XXXI. XXXVIII. XLV. LVI. LXIII. LXVIII. LXXVIII. +LXXIX. LXXXII. CVIII.] + +These are a few of the commendations with which her descriptions +abound. Commendations of you, oh man of mischief and mistake! They are +quotations from her letters. Read them; remember them; think on all she +has done for you, all she has said to you, and all you have made her +suffer! + +What shall I say? My fears are infinite, my hopes few, my anguish +intolerable!--For the love of God, brother, do not rob the world of two +people who were born to be its light and pride! Do not be this diabolic +instrument of passion and error! If they still have being, restore them +to the human race.--You know not the wrong you do!--'Tis heinous, 'tis +hateful wickedness! Can a mind like yours feel no momentary remorse, no +glow of returning virtue, no sudden resolution to perform a great and +glorious act of justice on yourself? + +If you value your soul's peace, hear me! Awake from this guilty dream, +and be once more the brother of the agonizing, + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXXII + +_Louisa Clifton to Mrs. Wenbourne_ + +_Grosvenor-Street_ + +Dear Madam + +You have been kindly pleased to request I would give you some account +of the means we are pursuing, in hopes to obtain traces that should +lead to a discovery of the very strange affair by which we are all +perplexed and afflicted. I am sorry to say that I can do little more +than narrate the distress of the various parties, who think themselves +interested in the loss of the dear friend of my heart, and of the youth +so well worthy of her affections. + +Of the grief of Sir Arthur, madam, you have yourself been a witness: +nor does it seem to abate. I should wonder indeed if it could; for +though I wish to cherish hope, I own that the secrecy and silence with +which this black stratagem has been carried into effect are truly +terrifying. + +Highly as I esteem and reverence the virtues of young Mr. Henley, I +have been free enough to own to you, madam, I never was any admirer of +the qualities and proceedings of his father. Justice however obliges me +to say that he at present expresses a regret so deep, for the loss of +his son, as to prove that he has a considerable sense of his worth. +Money has been the sole object of his efforts: yet, though his son had +so great a sum in his possession at the time he disappeared, he seems +to think but little of the money, compared to the loss which is indeed +so infinitely more deplorable. + +While I live I shall love and esteem Mrs. Clarke, and her niece Peggy; +whose kind hearts overflow with affection, both for my Anna St. Ives +and young Mr. Henley. Well indeed may Peggy remember poor Frank. He was +her saviour in the hour of her distress. She takes no rest herself, nor +will she suffer her husband or her brother to take any. They are all +continually on the watch; and to do the men justice, they do not need a +spur. + +Mr. Webb, her brother, with whose unfortunate history I suppose you are +acquainted, gives proofs of zeal which are very affecting. The tears +have frequently gushed from me, at seeing the virtuous anxiety of his +mind, and at recollecting what that mind was, how and by whom it was +preserved, and that its whole activity is now exerted, with the strong +and cheering hope of returning some portion of the good it has +received! + +I know, madam, how great your sorrow must be, as well as that of all +the once happy relations of a young lady of endowments and virtues so +rare. Yet deep as this sorrow is, I think it scarcely can exceed the +anguish I feel; convinced as I am that my mistaken, my unhappy brother +is the cause of this much dreaded misery. + +I told you, madam, I would go to him. I have been, and could gain no +admission. I have written; and have received no answer. These +circumstances, added to the perturbation of mind which was so +discoverable in him when he was last at Rose-Bank, do but confirm my +fears of his guilt. + +But as it becomes us to act, and not to lament, while there is any +possibility that action should give us relief, I joined Mr. Abimelech +Henley in his opinion, that we ought to apply to the civil power for +redress. We first indeed prevailed on Lord Fitz-Allen to speak to Mr. +Clifton; but it was to no purpose: my brother behaved, as I prophesied +he would, with disdainful silence. I own I had some hopes that my +letter would have touched his heart: I am sorry to find they were so +ill-founded. + +Mr. Clifton having refused even to deny his knowledge of the affair to +his Lordship, he consented that application should be made to a civil +magistrate. But Lord Fitz-Allen is strangely prejudiced, and is +persuaded, or affects to be, that Mr. Clifton, being a gentleman, is +incapable of a dishonourable act; and that young Mr. Henley and Anna +St. Ives have eloped. The sum of money Mr. Henley had in his possession +confirms him in this opinion: and he has several times half persuaded +Sir Arthur, and some others, to be of his sentiments. + +Hearing this, and finding no positive accusation, and that nothing but +surmise could be preferred against Mr. Clifton, whose character was +understood to be highly vindictive, the magistrate refused to do any +thing more than send a polite request, that he would come and speak in +his presence to the parties concerned. + +My brother refused in terms of menace and defiance; and we returned +home hopeless; yet again having recourse to watching the door of my +brother's lodgings, as has been done for these several days. But we +have learnt nothing. And what indeed can we learn? Mr. Webb and his +brother-in-law have twice followed him on foot, to the livery stables; +and have seen him mount his horse, and ride out of town: but the speed +with which he went quickly took him out of sight. + +The roads he chose were in opposite directions: but that they might +easily be, and yet lead to the same place. They are out at present; for +their industry is unwearied. + +It is in vain to think of pursuing my brother on horseback; for he must +infallibly see his pursuer. He went one time over Westminster-bridge, +and the other through Tyburn-turnpike up to Paddington. Their present +project is, the first time he goes out, to waylay both these roads, and +to get assistants. Mr. Webb is a swift runner: but the chance of +success I am afraid is very small indeed! However it becomes them, and +us, and indeed every body, not to desist, till the whole of this dark +transaction be brought to light. + +I am, madam, &c. + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXXIII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +Why ay! He who opens the flood-gates of mischief is necessarily in most +danger of being swept away by the torrent!--I have drunken deeply of +ruin, and soon shall have my fill! + +You warned me to beware of this raven: you told me he scented +carrion!--I laughed at your prophecy!--It is fulfilled!--I am a +gull!--The fleeced, cheated, despicable gull of the infernal villain +Mac Fane! + +It was right that I should be loaded with every species of contempt for +myself. I have been the fool, the gudgeon, the ineffable ass to lose a +sum of money to him, which to pay would be destruction!--I begin to +hate myself with most strange inveteracy! Could I meet such another +fellow, I would spit in his face--Fairfax, it is true--By hell I hold +myself in most rooted and ample antipathy! + +I find I have strangely mistaken my own character and talents--I +once thought to have driven the world before me, and to have whipped +opposition into immediate compliance: but it seems I am myself one of +the very sorry wretches at whom I was so all alive and ready to give, +and spurn! These are odd and unaccountable things! And it appears +that I am a very poor creature! A most indubitable driveller! The +twin-brother of imbecility! Ay, the counterpart and compeer of Edward +St. Ives, and the tool of the most barefaced of cheats, as well as his +familiar!--Well! I have lived long enough to make the discovery; and it +is now high time to depart! + +I wrote to you but yesterday: but events hastily tread on each other's +heels, and if I do not relate them now I never shall. I told you I +expected the gambler to supper, by my own invitation--Ay, ay!--I am a +very Solomon! + +I dined at home. I knew not indeed to what extremes the St. Ives +hunters might proceed: or whether they would make accusation upon oath, +sufficient to authorise a magistrate in granting a warrant, to bring me +before him; but the attempt must have been impotent and abortive, I +therefore determined to brave them: however I heard no more of them or +their suspicions. + +As I sat ruminating on past events, on my sister and her epistle, and +particularly on the zeal with which Anna St. Ives appealed to the +letter written by her, which I had received from Laura, my curiosity +was so far excited that at last I determined to read them both. I own, +Fairfax, they both moved me--This sister of mine, enraged as I am +against her, has somehow found the art of making herself respected. Her +zeal has character and efficacy in it: I mean persuasion. I could not +resist some of the sensations she intended to inspire. She cited +passages from the letters of her friend that were daggers to me! At the +very time I was seeking to quarrel with Anna, she angel-like was +incessant in my praise!--And such praises, Fairfax--! There was no +resisting it!--She thought generously, nobly, ay sublimely of me: while +my irascible jealousy, false pride, and vindictive spirit were eager +only to find cause of offence! + +And yet I know not!--I cannot keep my mind to a point! Surely _I had +cause of offence_: real cause?--Surely the retribution I sought had +justice in it?--She could not be wholly blameless?--No!--That would +indeed be distraction! + +I then ventured to read the letter of Anna--On paper or in speech she +is the same: energetic, awful, and affecting! + +While I was reading this last Mac Fane entered, and soon put an end to +my meditations. Did I tell you I had been fool enough to invite him to +supper?--He had not been with me half an hour before I was most +intolerably weary of his company! + +After having vapoured of the feats of himself and the scowling rascal +his colleague, to remind me of my high obligations to them, and talking +as usual with most bitter malevolence against Henley, he soon began to +descant on the old subject; gaming--To ask a madman why he is mad were +vain! I was importuned by his jargon--'He had been pigeoned only last +night of no less than seven hundred pounds!' Repetitions, imprecations, +and lies, all of the same kind, succeeded as fast as he could utter +them! + +I know all this ought to have put me upon my guard; and I know too that +it did not. I believe I had some lurking vanity in my mind; a +persuasion that I could beat him at picquet. I was weary both of myself +and him; was primed for mischief, and cared not of what kind. If you +ask me for any better reason, why, knowing him as I did, I suffered +myself to be the tool of this fellow, I can only say I have none to +give! + +I ordered my own servant to fetch half a dozen packs of cards, and +imagined this precaution was some security. What will not men imagine, +when their passions are afloat and reason is flown? + +To give you the history of how I was led on, from one act of idiotism +to another, or how after having lost one thousand I could be lunatic +enough to lose a second, and after a second a third, and so on to a +tenth, is more than my present temper of mind will permit. It is quite +sufficient to tell you that I have ruined myself; and that there is +not, upon the face of the earth, a fellow I so thoroughly despise as +Coke Clifton; no not even Mac Fane himself! Below the lowest am I +fallen; for I am his dupe, nay his companion, and what is worse his +debtor! It is time I were out of the world--So miserable a being does +not crawl upon its surface. + +It is the very heyday of mischief, and I must abroad among it. The +exact manner of the catastrophe I cannot foresee, but it must be +tragical. I have something brooding in my mind, the outlines of a +conclusion, which rather pleases me. I have sworn to avenge myself of +Anna, disinherit my sister, and never to pay Mac Fane. These oaths must +be kept. Anna must fall! If she will but deign to live afterward, she +shall be my heir. And for myself, I know how to find a ready quietus! + +My mind since this last affair is better reconciled to its destiny, and +even less disturbed than before: for previous to this, there seemed to +be some bare possibility of a generous release, on my part, and a more +generous forgetfulness of injuries on theirs. But now, all is over! I +have but to punish my opponents a little, and myself much, and having +punished expire. + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. I have not paid the scoundrel his thousand pounds. He proposed a +bond for the whole, on which he said he could raise money. This I was +determined not to give, and told him he must wait a few days, till I +had consulted my lawyer and looked into my affairs, and I would then +give him a determinate answer. He was beginning to assume the +contemptible airs of a bully; but I was in no temper to bear the least +insult. The real rage of my look silenced the mechanical ferocity of +his. I bade him remember I could hit a china plate, and that I should +think proper to take my own mode of payment. He then changed his tone, +and began to commend his soul to Satan, in a thousand different forms, +if he had ever won a hundred pounds at a sitting in his whole life +before. I sneered in his face, shewed him the door, and bade him good +night; and he walked quietly away. + + + + +LETTER CXXIV + +_Louisa Clifton to Mrs. Wenbourne_ + +_Grosvenor Street_ + +Dear Madam, + +As I have taken upon myself the painful duty of informing you of all +that passes, relative to this unhappy affair, it becomes me to be +punctual. It is afflicting to own that our agitation and distress, +instead of abating, are increased. + +Finding it impossible to gain a sight of my brother, I determined to +attempt to question his valet. Mr. Webb received my instructions +accordingly, watched him to some distance from the house, and delivered +a message from me, that if he would come to me I would present him with +ten guineas. + +He made no hesitation, but followed Mr. Webb immediately. + +Either he is very artful or very ignorant of this affair. One +circumstance excepted, he appears to know nothing. + +I promised him any reward, any sum he should himself name, if he could +but give us such information as might lead to the recovery of our lost +friends: but he protested very solemnly he had none to give; except +that he owns having been employed, by his master, to inveigle the lad +away, who wrote the anonymous letter, and whom Mr. Clifton, by +practising on the lad's credulity and gratitude, sent to France. + +The valet indeed acknowledges his master is exceedingly disturbed in +mind; that he does not sleep, nor even go to bed, except sometimes +tossing himself on it with his clothes on, and almost instantly rising +again; and that he has sent for his attorney, to make his will. + +I will not endeavour to paint my sensations at hearing this account. I +will only add that another incident has happened, which gives them +additional acuteness. + +I believe, madam, you have heard both my brother and my Anna speak of +and describe a young French nobleman, who paid his addresses to her, +and who was the occasion of the rash leap into the lake, by which Mr. +Clifton endangered his life? This gentleman, Count de Beaunoir, is +arrived in London; and has this morning paid a visit to Sir Arthur St. +Ives. + +He enquired first and eagerly after my friend; with whom, like all who +know her, he is in raptures. Sir Arthur, forgetting his character, and +the apparently rodomontade but to him very serious manner in which he +had declared himself her champion, told him the whole story, as far as +it is known to us; not omitting to mention Mr. Clifton as the person on +whom all our suspicions fell, and relating to him the full grounds of +those suspicions. + +The astonishment of the Count occasioned him to listen with uncommon +attention to what he heard; and he closed the narrative of Sir Arthur +by affirming it was all true. He was convinced beyond contradiction of +its truth, for he had himself brought over the lad, whom Mr. Clifton +had sent, with pretended dispatches, to a friend of his in Paris. + +The lad it appears, suspecting all was not right, and finding no +probability of returning, but on the contrary that he was watched, and +even refused a passport, had applied to the Count through the medium of +his servants, with whom he had formerly been acquainted, to protect and +afford him the means of returning to England. + +The lad was sent for, his story heard, and he was then questioned +concerning Anna St. Ives; and he had heard enough of the affair from +Mr. Abimelech Henley, and from the servants, to know that the proposed +match, between Mr. Clifton and Anna, was broken off; and that she +refused to admit his visits. When Count de Beaunoir last saw Sir +Arthur, at Paris, he had assured him very seriously that, should ever +Anna St. Ives find herself disengaged and he knew it, he would +instantly make her a tender of his hand and fortune: and he had no +sooner heard the lad's story than he determined immediately to make his +intended journey to England. + +My heart shudders while I relate it, but I dread lest it should be a +fatal journey, for him or my brother, or both! For he declared to Sir +Arthur, without hesitation, he would wait on Mr. Clifton directly, and +oblige him either to produce Anna St. Ives, or meet him in the field. + +Wretched folly! Destructive error! When will men cease to think that +vice and virtue ought to meet on equal terms; and that injury can be +atoned by blood? + +The Count had left his address with Sir Arthur, and the moment I heard +what had passed I flew to his lodgings. He was not at home, and I +waited above an hour. At last he came, and I attempted to shew him both +the folly and wickedness of the conduct he was pursuing. + +He listened to me with the utmost politeness, paid me a thousand +compliments, acknowledged the truth of every thing I said, but very +evidently determined to act in a manner directly opposite. I very +assiduously laboured to make him promise, upon his honour, he would not +seek redress by duelling; but in vain. He answered by evasion; with all +possible desire to have obliged me, but with a foregone conclusion that +it could not be. + +Pardon me, madam, for writing a narrative so melancholy: but sincerity +is necessary; intelligence might have come to you in a distorted form, +and might have produced much worse effects. For my own part, I have no +other mode of conduct but that of writing and of speaking the simple +truth; being convinced there is no shade of disguise, artifice, or +falsehood, that is not immoral in principle, and pernicious in +practice. + +I have been very busy. I have sent for the lad whom the count brought +over with him, and have made enquiries. The answers he gave me all tend +to confirm our former suspicions. He has related the story, at length, +of the manner in which he was inveigled away, and prevailed on to go to +France. + +I next questioned him concerning his aunt; and he knows nothing of her, +has never heard from her, and is astonished at what can have become of +her. He means, however, to go this evening to a relation's house, where +he thinks he is certain he shall hear of her; and has then promised to +come and let me know--But to what purpose? We shall find she has been +sent out of the way by Mr. Clifton: and what further information will +that afford? None, except to confirm what needs no confirming; except +to shew the blindness, craft, and turpitude of his mind! + +I am, dear madam, &c. + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXXV + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +So, Fairfax, you have suffered the lad to escape you; cautioned and +entreated as you were! You know, I suppose, by what means; and with +whom he is at present?--Well, well!--It is no matter--have quarrels +enough on hand, and enemies enough!--I would fain die in peace with +somebody!--I forgive you--I suppose you did your best. + +It is exceedingly possible that this may be the last letter you will +ever receive from me. Remember me now and then. Should Henley and Anna +St. Ives survive me, let them know I was not so entirely blind to their +worth as they might perhaps suppose. Shew them my letters if you will: +I care not who sees them now! Let the truth be told! I shall be deaf +enough to censure. + +I have just had a visit from the crazy count; a threatening one. A +challenge has passed, and we are to meet to-morrow. + +So it is agreed; but I doubt whether I shall keep the appointment. If +there be one spark of resentment in the soul of Henley, it is possible +I may fail. I mean to give him the first chance. It is his by right; +and why should not I do right even to him, once in my life? This +farrago of folly, this pride of birth, and riches, and I know not what +else lumber, is very contemptible! + +Fairfax, the present state of my thoughts force more than one truth +upon me. But what have I to do with truth, in a world from which I +learned so much error that it was impossible for me to exist in it? +These wise people should leave us fools to wrangle, be wretched, and +cut each other's throats as we list, without inter-meddling: 'tis +dangerous. But Truth is a zealot; Wisdom will be crying in the streets; +and Folly meeting her seldom fails to deal her blow. + +My mind is made up: my affairs are settled, my lawyer has written out +my will, and it is signed. You will find yourself mentioned in it, +Fairfax. I have nominated my sister my executor, and Anna St. Ives my +heir. I have been reading Louisa's letter again: it is full of pathos. +She has more understanding than I have been willing to allow, and I +have relented. She is not forgotten in my will: I would not have her +think of me with everlasting hatred. + +I know not how it is, Fairfax, but I feel more compunction, at +present, than I ever remember to have felt before. I am grown into +self-contempt; and the haughty notions, which were the support of my +high and sometimes arrogant conduct, are faded. I could think only of +Coke Clifton, and I now know Coke Clifton to be a very wicked dolt! + +Be not deceived by my present tone: make no false predictions in favour +either of myself or Anna St. Ives. Despair and fate are not more fixed +than is my plan. My horse will presently be at the door. I shall mount +him the moment I have ended this letter, and shall proceed directly to +Anna. There, after all is ended, the enchantment too shall end, and the +misventurous lady and her imprisoned knight shall both be set free. + +Should Henley, urged by despair to seek revenge, accept my defiance and +meet me in the field, the conflict must be fierce, and such as might +inspire terror. + +To say the truth, were it not to prove myself his equal, perhaps his +master and vanquisher, I would not lift my hand against his life. It +would be some relief to my soul to fall by his arm. He is a noble +fellow, and I have done him wrong. Would he or Anna but charitably +strike, I would die blessing them, eased by the expiatory blow. Perhaps +they are the only two beings for whom I ever could have had the same +admiration; and, if what they tell me be true, admiration continued +always ripens into love. They shewed affection toward me, and would, I +believe, have loved me. But we did not understand each other, and the +mistake has been mutually fatal--Would I had never injured them!--But +it is vain!--The die is cast!--We are all fated!--Having accomplished +my revenge, and accomplish it I will, they cannot live and not be +miserable! They must curse my hated memory, and blaspheme against my +honour!--It cannot be otherwise--Let our grave therefore be glorious! +They are brave spirits, and will mock my power even to the last. I love +their high courage. Perhaps they shall find I have a kindred soul!--Oh +would they die forgiving me--! + +I know not well whither my thoughts are wandering--They perhaps may +refuse to die--They may say it is their duty to live, even though +doomed to be wretched--I know them--What they think they will +act--Well, well!--Let destiny dispose of events--To me all chances +are welcome, all are alike. + +As to this count, should Henley refuse vengeance, I owe him no mercy. +'Twas he who prompted me to the frantic act that first made me the +debtor of the man I have most injured. I almost contemn a foe so +insignificant--Not that he is deficient in bravery, or skill--But what +is he?--What are his wrongs?--'Tis lunacy, not anger rankling at his +heart!--Or if it were?--The hungry wolf-dog is no fit combatant for the +famished lion! + +C. CLIFTON + + +P.S. Fairfax, a new terror has come over me. I told you of the letters +of my sister and Anna, and described something of the effect they +produced upon me. You may remember I read them previous to my last +damned interview with the villain Mac Fane. I recollect having laid the +letter of Anna upon the table, and that it continued lying there for +some time after his entrance. I had my eye upon it, and meant not to +put it in my pocket lest it should be left there, but lock it up as +soon as I moved--I forgot it--The letter is lost--I have searched every +where, have enquired, have cursed; have threatened unheard-of +punishment to my scoundrel, if he have purloined it; but to no effect. +He protests he knows nothing of it; and he looks as if he spoke +truth--It contained a secret relative to Henley--! Should Mac Fane have +taken it up furtively, as I suppose such thieves are always on the +watch--? Why, if he should--? Hell hounds!--Blood-thirsty vultures!--If +so--! I will be gone this instant!--It is the very era of horror! + + + + +FRAGMENT[1] + +[Footnote 1: Written by Mr. Henley in his confinement, and taken from +the wainscot in which it was concealed after the catastrophe.] + +Whether what I am about to write may ever be found, or whether I the +writer may ever be heard of more, are both very doubtful events. It may +be of some use to mankind, should this brief narrative hereafter be +read; as it may tend to exemplify the progress of the passions, and to +shew after having begun in error the excesses of which they are +capable. I speak under the supposition that this paper may fall into +the hands of persons who know more of Mr. Clifton, and of the affair to +which I allude, than even I myself at present know; or, if I did, than +I have time and opportunity to relate. + +With that hope, and addressing myself to such persons, I will +endeavour, as long as I have the means and am able, accurately to +recount the particulars of what has befallen me, from the time I was +first beset to the latest minute of my remaining where I am; whether my +removal happen by death or release; of which, though apparently beyond +hope, it would certainly be wrong to despair. + +Oh, Anna St. Ives! Should thine eye ever glance over this paper, +ignorant as I am of thy destiny, though too well assured it is a +fearful one, think not, while I seem to narrate those incidents only +which have happened to myself, that I am attentive to self alone; that +I have forgotten the nobler duties of which we have so often sweetly +discoursed; or that the memory of thee and thy sufferings has ever been +absent from my heart!--But why bid thee be just? To whom didst thou +ever do a wilful wrong? Oh pardon me!--Live on, shouldst thou still be +permitted to live, and labour with redoubled ardour in the great cause +of truth! Despair not! Heave not a sigh, drop not a tear; but sacrifice +thy private ills to public good! + +Before I begin, it is necessary to notice that I had the sum of eight +thousand pounds about me, in bank-bills: for it is this circumstance +which seems to have insured my death. Our walk was to have ended by +four o'clock, and the money to have been left at the banker's as we +returned. I cannot however acquit myself of neglect. I ought not to +have forgotten that money, under our present wretched system, is the +grand stimulus to vice; that accidents very little dreamed of daily +happen; and that procrastination is always an error. + +As I was walking with the lady whose name I have just mentioned, in +some fields between Kensington and Brompton, we saw Mr. Clifton pass on +horseback, and I believe in less than a minute a man assault him, and +fire a pistol, with an intent to rob him as I then supposed. + +I ran to his aid; and, immediately after the flight of this real or +imaginary robber, I was myself attacked, and laid senseless, by a blow +I received on the side of my head; which, as there was no person in +front able to strike at me, must have come from behind. I saw no more +for that time of Mr. Clifton. The blow was very violent, and is still +severely felt. + +When I recovered my senses, I found my arms confined by a straight +waistcoat; such as are used to secure maniacs. I endeavoured to call +for assistance, but the man who had charge of me, for there were +several, thrust his thumb in the larynx, forced open my mouth, and +gagged me. He has twice had occasion, as he supposed, to use me thus; +and both times with such violence as seemingly to require the utmost +effort mind could make, to recover respiration; the thrust of his thumb +was so merciless, and the sensation of strangling so severe. + +They brought me to a house thoroughly prepared for confinement. It is +an old but heavy building, walled round, and provided with bars, bolts, +chains, massy locks, and every precaution to impede escape. + +I was led by one pair of stairs, to apartments consisting of two +chambers; the one roomy, the other much smaller; in which last is a +bed. + +As soon as I was safe in the room, the master man among them, who as I +have since learned is a professed keeper of the insane, ungagged me, +took off the straight waistcoat, and then they all left me. + +I stood I know not how long in that stupor of amazement which the +scene, and the crowding conjuctures of imagination, necessarily +produced. + +At length, I roused my mind to more activity. I then set myself to +inspect the apartments. In the largest there was a fire place, and a +fire; but neither shovel, tongs nor poker; except a small stick as a +substitute for a poker, with which I certainly could not knock a +man down. The furniture consisted of a chair, a table, a broken +looking-glass, and an old picture, in panel, of the sacrifice of Isaac, +with Abraham's knife at his throat. It stares me now in the face, and +is a strong emblem of my own situation; except that my saving angel +seems wanting. + +In the other room, exclusive of the bed and its appurtenances, there +was a second chair, which with an old walnut-tree clothes-press was its +whole inventory. + +In this room was a closet, with several shelves almost to the ceiling; +the topmost of them so high as but just to be reached by me, when +standing on a chair. I swept my hand along the shelves, and found them +as I thought empty. + +I then examined the windows. There were only two, one to each room; the +remainder having been walled up; and these each of them provided with +thick iron bars, so near to each other as to admit but of a small part +of the face passing between them. There was a casement to the front +room only; and I found a piece of paper tied to the handle of it, on +which was written--'You are closely watched: if you attempt to make any +signals, or shout, or take any other means to inform persons you are +here, your lodging will be changed to one much more disagreeable.' + +Having nothing with which I could employ myself except my thoughts, and +these flowing in abundance, I sat meditating and undisturbed till it +was almost dark. A little before five o'clock as I suppose, perhaps +later, for I forgot to say my watch and purse had been taken from me, +with a promise that they should be returned, I heard the sound of +distant bolts and locks, that belong to the outer gates and doors, and +soon afterward of men in loud conversation. + +The keeper and two of his assistants came up to me, and once more +brought the straight waistcoat, into which they bade me thrust my arms. +I hesitated, and told them I did not choose to have my arms confined. +To which the keeper replied--'B--- my b---- eyes! None of your jabber, +or I'll fetch you another rum one! I'll knock you off the roost again!' + +From this speech I conclude it was he who gave me the blow with the +bludgeon, when I was first secured. + +As he said this, he raised his bludgeon; with which kind of weapon they +were all three armed, and had locked the door after them. There was no +remedy, and I obeyed. + +As soon as they had confined my arms they left me, and remembering the +bank-notes which I had in my fob, I began to fear they had come to the +knowledge of this circumstance; though I could not imagine by what +means. Some short time afterward, perhaps a quarter of an hour, the +bolts and chains of my door again began to rattle, and one person +singly came in. It was dark, and I could not distinguish his features, +but I recollected his form: it was the gambler Mac Fane; the sound of +his voice presently put it beyond a doubt. + +Without speaking a word, he came up to me and made a violent blow at +me. I perceived it coming, sprang upward, and received it on the tip of +my shoulder, his hand driving up to my neck. From his manner, I guess +it hurt him at least as much as me; for his passion immediately became +outrageous, and he began cursing, kicking, spitting at me, and treating +me with various other indignities, which are wholly unworthy of +remembrance. + +His passion was so loud and vehement that the keeper, hearing him, came +up. Just as he entered Mac Fane struck me again, and with more effect, +for he knocked me down; and was proceeding to kick me in a manner that +might perhaps have been fatal, had not the keeper interfered. + +I said not one word the whole time, nor as I recollect uttered any +sound whatever; and it was with difficulty that the keeper, who is even +a more powerful man than himself, could get him away. + +I was once more left in solitude and darkness; and thus sat, with fresh +subjects for reflection, ruminating on this worthless Mac Fane, my +rencontre with him and Mr. Clifton, the extreme malignancy of his +temper, and all the connecting circumstances that are allied to events +which I cannot now relate. + +About eight o'clock my door once more opened, and a little boy of +fourteen years of age, as he tells me, brought me a light and some +food. The boy imagined me to be mad, and entered the room with great +reluctance, his master the keeper standing at the door, cursing him, +threatening him with the horse-whip, and obliging him to do as he was +bidden! which was to release me from the strait-waistcoat, spread a +threadbare half-dirty napkin over the table, set the plates, and wait +till I had eaten. The trepidation of the poor boy at setting my arms at +liberty was extreme. + +The door was not open but ajar, and secured by three chains, between +which the boy crept; the keeper standing and looking on, with one arm +leaning on the middle chain, and his head only in the chamber. + +I observed that the boy had an intelligent countenance, though +considerably under the influence of fear; with strong marks of kindness +in it, but stronger of dejection. + +The furniture, the napkin, knives and forks, and every circumstance +denoted the poverty of the man who is my jailer: and his proceedings +proved there scarcely could be any guilt from which he would start, to +remove this supposed evil. The thought could not escape me, nor the +jeopardy in which I should stand, should the money I had in my +possession be discovered. + +I ate what was brought me, and endeavoured by the mildness and +cheerfulness of my look to inspire the boy with confidence. I have no +doubt but he was surprised to see so docile a madman, not having yet +ever seen any, and being from description exceedingly terrified at the +idea of the trade to which he has been forcibly apprenticed. I spoke to +him two or three times, apparently to ask him for the trifles he could +reach me, but in reality with another view. I likewise addressed him +two or three other times in dumb-show, with as much mildness and +meaning in my look as circumstances so insignificant would permit. + +The effect my behaviour had upon him was very evident; and after +beginning in fear and confusion, he left me in something like hope and +tranquillity. My prison door was locked, the candle taken away, and I +left in darkness. I was no more molested during that night. + +My thoughts were too busy to suffer me to sleep. I sat without moving I +know not how long. The extreme stillness of all around me added to the +unity of the gloom, and produced a state of mind which gives wholesome +exercise to fortitude. Deep as I was in thought, I remember having been +two or three times roused by the sternness of the keeper's voice, which +I heard very plainly, and which was generally some command, closing +with a curse, and as I supposed directed to the poor boy. + +My bed-chamber door was open, and after some time I removed into it, +and sat down on the feet of the bed, again falling into reveries which +fixed me motionless to the place. I cannot tell what was the hour, nor +how long I had been thus seated; but I was roused by the sound of a +door opening, and once more by the voice of the keeper, which I heard +so distinctly as to doubt for a moment whether it were not in my own +chamber. + +At the same time a broad ray of light suddenly struck against the wall +of my bed-room. I followed it with my eye: I was still at the foot of +the bed, and its direction was from the left to the right. I had much +inclination to pull off my shoes, and endeavour to trace by what +aperture it entered; but on further reflection, I concluded it would be +best not to excite any alarm, in a mind which cannot but be continually +tormented by suspicion and fear. + +I paid strict attention however to every circumstance that might aid my +memory, in tracing it on the morrow. + +The voice of the keeper, for he spoke several times, was now much more +distinct than before: he was going to bed, and the question--'Are you +sure all is safe?'--was repeated several times with great anxiety, and +was answered in the affirmative by a man's voice--'Do you hear him +stir?' said the keeper.--The reply was--'No--But I am sure I heard him +a little before ten.' + +The keeper however could not be satisfied, and in less than five +minutes I heard my door unbolting. The keeper and both his men came in +with their bludgeons. He asked morosely why I did not go to bed. I +answered because I had no inclination to sleep. He went again to the +windows, and examined the very walls with the utmost circumspection; +and afterward turning away said--'Sleep or wake, I'll be d---- if you +have any chance.' + +He then left me, and I presently afterward saw the ray of light again, +and heard his various motions at going to bed. + +I passed the night without closing my eyes, and in the morning began to +examine where it was possible the light should obtain admission. I +placed myself in the same situation, and looking to the left saw the +closet was in that direction, and that the door was open. + +Looking into it I found that a part of the flooring, in the left hand +corner, was decayed; and that the ceiling beneath had a fissure of some +width. + +I thought it a fortunate circumstance that sounds were conveyed +so distinctly into my apartments: though I speak chiefly of the +bed-chamber; for it was the loudness of the keeper's voice, and the +stillness of surrounding objects, which most contributed to my hearing +him in the front apartment. Not but the decayed state of the building +favoured the conveyance of sound, in all directions. + +I began to consider how far I could improve the means that offered +themselves, and, watching my opportunity in the course of the day, with +my fingers and by the aid of the stick left to stir my fire, I removed +some of the decayed mortar to the right and left, and increased the +aperture on the inside; but was exceedingly careful not to push any +flakes, or part of the ceiling, down into the floor below. The +attention I paid to this was very exact, for it was of the utmost +consequence. Nor was I less accurate in pressing together the rubbish I +scraped away into vacant corners between the joints, and leaving no +traces that should lead to discovery. + +All these precautions were highly necessary, as the behaviour of the +keeper had proved; for when he came into my chamber in the morning, as +he did early with his customary attendants, he searched and pried about +with all the assiduity of suspicion. + +At breakfast I was again waited on by the boy, and watched by the +keeper. It was necessary I should not excite alarms, in a mind so full +of apprehension: I therefore behaved with reserve to the boy, though +with great complacency, said little, and dismissed him soon. + +In the forenoon the door opened again: the boy was sent in with the +straight waistcoat, and the keeper said to me--'Come, sir; put on your +jacket!--Here, boy, be handy!'--I once more hesitated, and asked if Mr. +Mac Fane were coming to pay me another visit? He did not return me a +direct answer, but replied--'If you will put on the jacket, you may go +and stretch your pins for half an hour in the garden: if not stay where +you are, and be d----!' + +After a short deliberation, I concluded that to comply was prudent; and +I very peaceably aided the boy in performing his office. As my back was +turned to the keeper, I smiled kindly and significantly to the boy; to +which he replied by a look expressive of surprise and curiosity. + +It cannot be supposed but that my mind had been most anxiously +enquiring into the possibility and means of escape, while in my prison; +and that the moment this unexpected privilege was granted me, its whole +efforts were directed to the same subject. + +I walked in the garden overlooked, and in a certain manner followed, by +the keeper and his attendants: I therefore traversed it in various +directions, without seeming to pay the least attention to the object on +which my mind was most busy. But the chance of escape, my hands being +thus confined, appeared to be as small in the garden as in the house. +It is completely surrounded by a high wall, which joins the house at +each end. It had one small gate, or rather door, which was locked and +bolted; and had no other entrance, except from the house. After having +walked about an hour as I suppose, the keeper asked me, in a tone +rather of command than question, if I were not tired. I answered--No. +To which he replied, But I am. Accordingly, without saying another +word, I returned to my prison. + +I will attempt no description of the sufferings of my mind, and the +continual fears by which it was distracted: not for myself, for there +was no appearance, at this time, that any greater harm than confinement +was intended me, but for another. The subject is torturing: but +resignation and fortitude are duties. My reason for mentioning it is +that it strongly excited me to some prompt effort at escape. + +I could think of none, except of endeavouring to convince the keeper it +was more his interest to give me my freedom, than to keep me in +confinement. Consequently, when my dinner was brought, and he had taken +his station, I asked him if he would do me the favour to converse with +me for half an hour; either privately or in the presence of his own +men. + +He did not suffer me to finish my sentence, but exclaimed-- + +'None of your gab, I tell you! If you speak another word, I'll have you +jacketed: and then b--- me, my kiddy, if you get it off again in a +hurry!' + +I said no more, but ate my dinner; casting an eye occasionally to the +door, and conjecturing what were the probabilities, by a very sudden +spring, of breaking the chain, for he had only put one up, or of +drawing the staple by which it was held, and which, from the thickness +of the wood-work, I knew could not be clenched. It was not possible, I +believe, for mind to be actuated by stronger motives than mine was, in +my wish to escape: the circumstance of the single chain might not occur +a second time, and I determined on the trial. + +I prolonged my dinner till I perceived him begin to yawn, and at last +turn his head the other way. I was about twelve feet distant from the +door. I rose quietly, made two steps, and then gave a sudden spring. I +came with great violence against the door, but it resisted me, and of +course, I fell backward. + +After the first moment of surprise, the keeper instantly locked the +door, and, in a rage of cursing, called his assistants. They however +soon pacified him, by turning his attention to the strength of his own +fastenings, and scoffing at my fruitless attempt. + +But this incident induced him to change his mode: he stood no more with +the door ajar to watch me, but, after sending in the boy, locked and +bolted it upon us. + +I was in full expectation of the straight waistcoat; and his +forbearance, I imagine, was occasioned by the strict orders he must +have received to the contrary. His threat indeed, when I attempted to +speak, is a proof rather against this supposition; and I can solve it +no other way than by supposing that his orders were, if I attempted +persuasion with him, he would then be at liberty to do a thing to which +he seemed exceedingly prone. His fears for himself, should I escape, +must inevitably be strong; and a man, who has waded far enough in error +to commit an act so violent, will willingly plunge deeper, in +proportion as such fears increase. + +The sudden spring I had made at the door, combining with the +supposition of madness, had such an effect upon the poor boy that, +hearing the door lock and seeing me as he imagined let loose upon him, +his fright returned in full force. His looks were so pale, and he +trembled so violently, that I feared he would fall into a fit. I went +up to him with the utmost gentleness, and said--Don't be afraid, my +good boy! Indeed I will not hurt you. + +The keeper scarcely stayed a minute before, recollecting I had been +long enough at dinner, he opened the door again, but with the caution +of the three chains, and bade the boy take away. + +I then began to accuse myself of precipitancy; but I soon remembered +that every thing ought to be hazarded, where every thing is at stake. +My fears were not for myself; and, while my arms were free, could I +have come upon them thus suddenly, success was far from improbable. +Vice is always cowardly; and, difference of weapons out of the +question, three to one are not invincible odds. + +It now first occurred to me how prudent it would be to conceal my +bank-bills, and I began to consider which were the best means. I took +them out, examined their numbers, and endeavoured to fix them in my +memory. + +This was no difficult task; but prudence required that nothing should +be left to chance, and I took the burnt end of my stick, and going into +the back room, wrote the numbers against the wall, in a place which, +from its darkness, was least liable to notice. Indeed I considered +there was little to fear, even should the figures I made be seen, for I +wrote them in one continued line, which rendered them unintelligible +without a key. + +I then once more took my chair, and placed it at the closet door; +thinking that to hide them at one corner of the topmost shelf might +perhaps be the securest place. I previously began to feel, and, at the +far end of the shelf, I put my hand upon something; which, when brought +to light, proved to be the remainder of a bundle of quills. + +I felt again, but found nothing more there. + +I then removed my chair toward the other end, and after two or three +times sweeping my hand ineffectually along the shelf, I struck the edge +of it against the wall, and more than half a quire of paper fell flat +upon it. + +This led me to conjecture that the shelf had been a hiding place, +perhaps, to some love-sick girl, and that it was possible there should +be ink. After another more accurate search, and turning my other hand, +with which I could feel better to the opposite side, I found an +ink-bottle. + +I took down my treasure, and examined it: there was cotton in the +bottle, but the ink was partly mouldy and partly dried away. However, +by the aid of a little water, I presently procured more than sufficient +to write down my numbers. But I wanted a pen, and for this there was no +succedaneum. + +As the safest way of preserving what might become useful, I returned my +treasure to the shelf on which it had been found; and for that reason +began to consider of another place for my bank-notes. After looking +carefully round both chambers, I at last lifted up the old picture, and +here I found a break in the wainscot; in which was inserted, laterally, +full as much more writing paper as the quantity I had discovered in the +closet. I took away the paper entirely, lest, if seen, it should lead +to further search; and, twisting up the bills, laid them so as to be +certain of recovering them, when I pleased. The paper I put upon the +shelf. + +When the boy brought my supper, I asked him his name, how old he was, +and other trifling questions, to familiarize and embolden him; and +learned from his answers that he had a poor mother, who was unable to +provide for him, and that he had been bound apprentice to this keeper +by the parish. + +At last I enquired if he could write and read? + +He answered, yes; he had been called the best scholar of the charity +school in which he was bred. + +I then asked if he continued to practise his learning? + +He replied he loved reading very much indeed: but he had no books. + +Did he write? + +He had no paper. + +Was there a pen and ink in the house? + +Yes; but the pen was seldom used, and good for nothing. + +Could he get me a pen? + +If he had but a quill, he could make me one. + +Had he a pen-knife? + +No; he had forgotten that: but one of the men had a knife with several +blades, and he could ask him to lend it. + +And what should he write, supposing he had paper? + +A letter. + +To whom? + +To his mother. + +I thought it not right to expose my stores to him, and therefore +suffered him to go for that time, without saying any thing more on the +subject. But my discourse with him had pretty well driven all +apprehension from his mind. I was cautious to speak in a very low tone +of voice; and, without being bidden, he had acuteness enough to follow +my example. + +The next day, at breakfast, I gave him a sheet of paper, and two +quills; and told him to make pens of them if he could; one for himself, +and the other for me; and to take the paper for his letter. He looked +with intelligent surprise--Where did they come from? was the question +in his thoughts; but he said nothing. Madmen were beings whom he did +not comprehend. + +My kindness to him, however, made him desirous to oblige me. I gave him +a part of my breakfast; and he ate what I gave him in a manner that +shewed he was not over-fed. + +At dinner he brought me both the pens. I asked him why he did not keep +one to write to his mother? He said he had written, but had cleaned and +cut the pen over again. They were not ill made, considering that, as he +told me, the knife was a bad one. + +But what will you do for ink, sir? said he. I told him I had a little; +but that I should be glad if I had more. Perhaps, he replied, he could +get one of the men to bring him a half-pennyworth. I said I had no +money, and he answered a gentleman (Mr. Clifton, I suppose) had just +given him sixpence, for holding his horse; that he intended to save it +for his mother, but that he would spare a halfpenny to buy me ink. + +I took the boy's hand, and said to him--'If ever I live to get free +from this place, I will remember you.'--The emotions I felt +communicated themselves, and he looked sorrowfully up in my face, and +asked--'Why, are not you mad, sir?' + +The very earnest but mild manner with which I answered--'No, my good +fellow'--both convinced him and set his imagination to work. + +I said little more, but finished my meal, wrote down my numbers, and +gave him the bottle: but warned him, if he were questioned, by no means +to tell an untruth. The boy looked at me again, in a manner that spoke +highly in his favour, put the bottle in his pocket, and, as soon as his +master returned to the door, removed the things and departed. + +He brought the ink with my supper. One of the men had taken his +sixpence, but refused to return him any change; and the ink he had +emptied out of the keeper's bottle. Such are the habits of vice. The +boy related it with indignation, but said he dared not complain. I had +nothing else to give, I therefore rewarded the generous boy with a +couple of quills, and four sheets of paper for his own use; cautioning +him to keep them to write to his mother. + +While I wanted the means, I imagined it would have been a great relief +to have had the power of writing down my thoughts; but I found they +were much too busy, and disturbed, by the recollection of Anna St. Ives +and her danger, and by the incessant desire of finding some means of +escape, notwithstanding a thousand repeated convictions of its +impossibility, to suffer me to write either with effect or connection. +I did nothing but make memorandums; some of thoughts that occurred, and +others of circumstances that were present. I concealed my papers in the +wainscot behind the picture, where I mean to leave this narrative. + +The indulgence of my morning walk was continued; and on the sixth day +of my confinement an incident happened, by which I almost effected my +release. + +Confiding in the strait waistcoat and in the strength of his locks and +bars, and become less apprehensive from this persuasion, the keeper had +left me under the care of only one of his men; himself and the other +were employed on something which he wanted done in the house. + +While they were absent, the garden-bell rang. The voice of Mac Fane was +heard, demanding entrance, by the man who was set to watch me, and +fetching the key he opened the gate without hesitation. + +My hopes were instantly excited. I made a short turn and crossed him, +as if continuing my walk, a few yards distant from the gate. He eyed me +however, and I went on; but, the moment he was busied in unlocking and +unbolting it, I turned round, sprang forward, and as it opened rushed +past. + +The violence of my motion overset Mac Fane. The master, whose +suspicions had taken the alarm, was entering the garden and saw me. He +and his man and Mac Fane instantly joined in the pursuit. + +Though I was in the strait waistcoat, yet I happened to be swifter than +any of them. The keeper was soon the first in the chase: it was up a +narrow lane, with a high-banked hedge on each side. A man was coming +down it, and the keeper called to him to stop me. The man seeing my +arms confined, and hearing the shouts of my pursuers, endeavoured to do +as he was desired. He placed himself directly in my way, and I ran full +against him. + +We both fell; but the man by the aid of his hands was up rather the +soonest. He laid hold of me, and a sudden thought struck me. They were +bawling behind--'A madman! A madman!'--and I assumed that grinning +contortion of countenance which might easiest terrify, uttered an +uncouth noise, and began to bite at the man. Terror seized him, and I +again got away, the very moment the keeper was coming up. + +I had not run a hundred yards further before I saw another man at a +distance, and the hue and cry behind was as hot as ever. The hedge in +this place was lower, and I jumped over it into the field on my right. +There was a ditch on the other side, of which I had no intimation; and +my feet alighting on the edge of it, I once more fell. + +My pursuers profited by a gate, which I had passed. It was the field of +a gardener, and a man was at work close by. He came and helped me up; +but not soon enough: the keeper arrived, and presently after his man +and Mac Fane. + +I addressed myself to the gardener, endeavoured to tell him who I was, +and said I would give him a hundred pounds, if he would aid me to +escape: but my efforts were soon put an end to by the keeper, who threw +me down, a second time violently thrust his thumb into my throat, and +by gagging me prevented further speech. + +Mac Fane however thought proper to give the man half a crown, and they +all assured him I was a madman; which story was confirmed by the man +who supposed himself bitten, and who had joined in the pursuit. + +The extreme malevolence of Mac Fane again displayed itself: but his +treatment is unworthy notice, except as it relates to what is to come. + +I was hurried back to my prison, left with the strait waistcoat on that +whole day and night, and was fed by the boy; who shewed many silent +tokens of commiseration, though once more watched by the keeper and his +two attendants, with the three chains up at the door. All conversations +between me and the boy were for several days ended, by the continued +overlooking of the keeper and his men. + +After the keeper and Mac Fane had retired, I went into the back room, +and was standing with my face toward the window, which is beside the +closet. The behaviour of Mac Fane had been so extraordinary as already +to lead me to suspect he had a wish to take away my life. + +As I was standing here, I heard the keeper's bed-room door open and +shut again, and soon after the voices of him and Mac Fane in +conversation. I listened very attentively to a dialogue, the substance +of which was to me much more alarming than unexpected. It was a +consultation, on the part of Mac Fane, on the policy and means of +murdering me. + +The keeper opposed him, several times mentioned Mr. Clifton as an +unconquerable objection, and urged the danger of being detected; for he +did not seem to revolt at the fact. + +Mac Fane answered he would silence Clifton; of whom his favourite +phrase was that 'He should soon do him!'--which he repeated very often, +with a variety of uncommon oaths. He even said that, were I fairly out +of the way, he could make Edward St. Ives pay him the three thousand +guineas. + +The curses which Mac Fane continually coupled with my name, and the +rancour, the thirst of blood which preyed upon him, were incredible. He +a hundred times imprecated eternal damnation to his soul if there were +the least danger. The fellows the keeper had with him were of his own +providing: they knew he could hang them both: they durst not impeach. +[_Squeak_, I recollect, was the word he used.] To take me off was the +safest way. Clifton would in reality be an accessary before the fact, +and therefore obliged to silence. Beside--'He would do him! He would do +him!'--This he confirmed by a new string of oaths. + +The keeper however continued averse to the project, said the fellows +would hang their own father if he could not bribe them, that there was +nothing to be got by putting me out of the way, and that he would not +venture his neck unless he saw good cause. + +While they were arguing the point, a loud and authoritative rap was +heard at the keeper's door, accompanied by the voice of Mr. Clifton, +demanding admission. He entered, and the whole story of my escape was +related, with that colouring which their own fears inspired. + +Mac Fane darkly hinted the thoughts he had been communicating to the +keeper; but, meeting repulse from Mr. Clifton whenever ideas of cruelty +were started, he thought proper to use more reserve. + +The keeper concluded his account by affirming it would be necessary to +continue me in the strait waistcoat, and not to let me walk in the +garden any more. Mr. Clifton assented to the latter, but positively +ordered my arms to be released. There was no need he said to punish me +in this manner, and it should not be. At the same time he gave the +keeper a twenty pound note, and repeated his orders to treat me +properly, but to take care not to suffer me to escape. + +Misguided man! How does your heart pant after virtue! How grieve at the +slavery in which it is held! What will its agony be, when the full +measure of error is come! + +Yet this to me was the lucid moment of hope, for it suggested a train +of conclusions which seem like heavenly certainties--Mr. Clifton had +made his attempts on Anna St. Ives, and they have been repelled! Even +still, and it is several days since, his efforts continue to be +ineffectual!--It must be so!--The purposes of vice are frustrated by +the pure energies of virtue: for, had they succeeded, I should be +released. Heart-cheering thought! Pleasure inexpressible! Yes, Anna St. +Ives is safe! Truth is omnipotent; and out of my ashes another, and +probably a more strenuous and determined assertor of it may arise! +Clifton at last may see how very foul is folly, and turn to wisdom! +Would he might be spared the guilt of purchasing conviction at the +price of blood! + +Three days passed away, after my escape, without any remarkable +occurrence. The sanguinary malignity of Mac Fane was more than +counterbalanced, by the reasonings of probability and hope in favour of +Anna St. Ives. + +During my confinement, I had slept but little. Wearied however at +length, by the repetition of ideas that were unavailing, I was +slumbering more soundly than usual on the night after the ninth day; +and was dreaming that my doors were unbolted, the chains rattling, and +men entering to murder me; from which I was waked by starting in my +dream to run and resist them. It was the real clanking of the bolts and +locks of the house doors that inspired this dream; they opened to give +some one admission. I know not what was the hour, but it must be very +late, and it was completely dark. I soon distinguished Mac Fane's +voice. I jumped up, hastily dressed myself in part, and presently heard +the keeper's door open--The ray of light appeared on the wall--I crept +toward the closet. + +The first word Mac Fane uttered was--'I told you I should do him!--I +told you I should do him!' + +He kept repeating this and other exclamations, which I could not at +first comprehend, closing each of them with oaths expressive of +uncommon exultation. But he descanted almost instantly from Mr. +Clifton, to whom his phrase alluded, to me; adding--it was high time +now to do me too. + +His joy was so great, his oaths so multiplied, and his asseverations so +continual, that he would tread me out, would send my soul to hell that +very night, and other similar phrases, that it was some time before the +keeper could obtain an answer to his question of--'What does all this +mean?' At last Mr. Mac Fane began to relate, as soberly as the +intoxication of his mind would permit, that he had done him [Mr. +Clifton] out of ten thousand pounds. + +Had he got the money? + +No--But God shiver his soul to flames if he did not make him pay! He +would blow him to powder, drink his blood, eat his bones if he did not! + +This was not all--He had another prize! Eight thousand pounds! The +money was now in the house! + +He stopped short--The cupidity of the keeper was excited, and he grew +impatient. Mac Fane I imagine hesitated to reconsider if it were +possible to get all the money himself, make away with me secretly, and +leave the keeper in ignorance. But he could not but conclude this to be +impracticable. + +I could not sufficiently connect the meaning of all the phrases that +followed; they might depend as much on seeing as hearing; but I +understood Mac Fane was acquainted with the circumstance of the money I +have in my possession; though whether his knowledge were gained from +Mr. Clifton or Anna St. Ives, for they were both mentioned, I could not +distinguish. He talked much of a letter, of his own cunning, and of the +contempt in which he held Mr. Clifton. + +The keeper however was convinced of the fact, for he proposed +immediately to murder me, and secure the money. + +This point was for some time debated, and I every moment expected they +would leave the room, to perpetrate the crime. Mac Fane had his pistols +and cutlass, yet seemed to suppose a possibility even of my conquering +them. The keeper was much more confident--'He knew how to bring me +down; he had no fear of that.'--Mac Fane remembered his defeat, and +the keeper his cheaply bought victory. + +They agreed it could not be done silently, unless they could catch me +asleep, and the unbolting of the doors would awaken me. They wished the +keeper's fellows to know nothing of the matter; they would claim their +share. + +At last Mac Fane proposed that I should be put in the strait waistcoat +the next morning, on pretence of walking me out in the garden; that +perhaps it would be best to suffer me to walk there, but not to take +off the strait waistcoat any more; that then the doors might be left +unbolted, and even unlocked, my arms being confined; and the next night +they might come and dispatch me! + +The conversation continued long after this, and schemes of flight, +either to Ireland or the continent, were concerted, and the riches and +happiness they should enjoy insisted on, with great self-applause and +pleasure. Poor, mistaken men! + +They at last parted, with a determination to execute the scheme of the +strait waistcoat. Mac Fane took possession of the keeper's bed; and he +as I imagine went to that of his men. + +And here I must remark that Mac Fane either forgot or did not imagine +that my immediate murder would be an impediment to the payment of the +ten thousand pound gaming debt, from Mr. Clifton; which fear afterward +actuated him strongly. It could not do otherwise, the moment it was +conceived. + +According to agreement, in the morning the keeper came, with as much +pretended kindness as he knew how to assume, to tell me I might have my +walk in the garden again, if I pleased. I answered I did not wish to +walk. He endeavoured to persuade me, but he soon found it was to no +purpose. He then ordered the boy away, who had brought the strait +waistcoat, and quitted his station at the door in great dudgeon. + +I soon afterward heard, as I expected, Mac Fane and him in his own +room. Mac Fane cursed the keeper bitterly, and supposed that, for want +of cunning, he had in part betrayed himself, and rendered me +suspicious. The keeper resented his behaviour and cursed again, till I +imagined they had fairly quarrelled. + +Mac Fane however began to cool, and to talk of another expedient of +which he had been thinking. This was to poison me. In this the keeper +immediately joined, and began to enquire about the means of procuring +the poison. The boy was first mentioned, but that was thought too +dangerous. At last Mac Fane determined himself to go to London and buy +arsenic, on pretence of poisoning rats, and to set off immediately. On +this they concluded, and presently left the room. + +My whole attention was now employed in watching the opening of the +keeper's door; but there was reason to apprehend they would converse +somewhere else on their projects. I imagine however they thought this +the safest and most inaccessible place, for a little before dark I +again heard the voice of Mac Fane, and they presently came back to +their former station. + +Mac Fane related the difficulty he had found in getting the arsenic; +that several shops had refused him; and that at last he had succeeded +by ordering a quantity of drugs, for which he paid, leaving them to be +sent to a fictitious address, and returning back pretending he wanted +some poison for the rats, asking them which was the best. They +recommended arsenic, which they directed him to make up in balls, and +he ordered a quarter of a pound. They weighed it, he put it in his +pocket, and they noticed the circumstance, telling him they would send +it home with the other drugs; but he walked away pretending not to hear +what they said. + +Mac Fane, glorying in his own cunning, was impatient to administer his +drug, and proposed it should be sent up in my tea. The keeper assented, +and the boy very soon afterward brought me some tea in a pot ready +made, contrary to custom, I having been used to make my own tea. + +The keeper was at the door. I asked him the reason of this deviation; +and he bade me drink my tea and be thankful. I poured some out, first +looked at it, then tasted it, and afterwards threw it into the ashes, +saying it was bad tea. I next examined the tea-pot, smelled into it, +and then dashed it to pieces on the hearth. I looked toward the keeper +and told him there was something in the tea that ought not to have +been. + +Seeing me take up the candle and begin to move, he instantly shut the +door. His conscience was alarmed, and for a moment he forgot the +security of his chains. He even called up his men before he opened it +again; after which the boy was released, but not before I had time to +tell him never to eat any thing that was brought for me. The poor boy +noticed the significance with which I said it, and fixed his eyes +mournfully upon me. I shook him by the hand, bade him be a good boy, +and not learn wickedness from his master. + +The remains of the tea-set were soon removed, and a fresh consultation +presently began in the keeper's room. Mac Fane was again enraged, and +blamed the keeper; who began to suppose there was something +supernatural in my behaviour. He said I looked at him as if I knew it +was poison, and it was very strange! Mac Fane swore he would dose me at +supper, and would go and make me eat it himself, or blow my brains out; +but he presently recollected I had not the strait waistcoat on, and +altered his tone. It was however agreed that another attempt should be +made. + +I now began to consider all circumstances; whether it were probable, if +I ate a little, that the keeper should suppose it only a temporary want +of appetite; what quantity might be eaten without harm, and if it were +not practicable to watch the moment when they should come, by night, to +execute their wicked purpose, and to pass them and escape? A little +reasoning shewed me that I should be in the dark, in a house the +avenues to which were all secured, and with which I was unacquainted; +that the number I had to contend with now would be four, three of them +provided with bludgeons, and the fourth with a hanger and pistols; that +release by the order of Mr. Clifton was not impossible; and that, if I +began a fray, I should excite cowardice to action; and, having begun, +Mac Fane would scarcely, miss such an opportunity. + +These reasons made me rather resolve to persevere in fasting; which +remedy, though it could not be of long duration, appeared to be the +wisest. Yet caution was necessary, for, should I make them absolutely +despair of poisoning me, they would have recourse to other means. + +My resolution was taken, and when the supper came I tasted a bit of +bread and drank a small quantity of water, after carefully inspecting +it, and without saying any thing more sent the rest away. + +The keeper's door soon opened, the ray of light appeared on the wall, +and a new consultation succeeded. The keeper again was troubled with +superstitious fears; and Mac Fane was persuaded that, having been +alarmed at tea-time, I had from suspicion refused to eat any supper. + +After a debate, they concluded it would be in vain to attempt to poison +me in my tea, for I should detect it: they would therefore send me a +short allowance at breakfast, keep me hungry, and prepare my dinner for +the next day. The keeper proposed to give me no breakfast, but Mac Fane +said that was the way to make me suspect. + +They were both highly chagrined; but Mac Fane was much the most +talkative at all times, and the loudest in oaths and menaces: though I +scarcely think even him a more dangerous man than the keeper. + +In the morning, observing they had sent agreeable to their plan a small +quantity, after a little examination I ate what was brought me, and the +keeper retired apparently satisfied. + +It was far otherwise at dinner, when I absolutely refused to eat; and +their vexation was greatly increased by my persisting to refuse the +whole day. + +Late at night a new council was held, and it was long in debate whether +I should be suffered to live the night out. At last the cupidity of Mac +Fane prevailed, and his fear of not getting Mr. Clifton's bond for +eleven thousand pounds, as he said, though I understood he had won but +ten, seems now to have first struck him; and this induced him to +desist. I understood however that Mac Fane had still some hopes from +his poison, and consequently that to fast would still be necessary. + +Their final resolve was that, the moment Mr. Clifton should have given +Mac Fane the bond, they would then delay no longer: and, from the +threats which he vaunted of having used, he expected the bond to be +given the next day, when Mr. Clifton was to come to the keeper's, if I +understood them rightly, after his visit to Anna St. Ives. + +This idea again conjured up torturing images, and fears which no +efforts I have been able to make can entirely appease. + +I began this narrative the first day on which I found my life was in +danger, and have continued it to this time, which is now the twelfth +day of my confinement. The desire which the keeper expresses to possess +himself of the money convinces me of my great jeopardy. He was eager to +have committed the murder last night, during the last conversation I +heard. That I should escape with life from the hands of these wicked +men is but little probable; but I will not desert myself; I will not +forward an act of blood by timidity. Were I to destroy the bank-bills, +and to tell them they were destroyed, I should not be believed. I mean +to try another expedient--I hear them in the keeper's room! + +These are the last words I shall ever write. They are determined on +immediate murder--But I will sell my life dearly. + + + + +LETTER CXXVI + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_ + +Oh my friend! I am escaped! Have broken my prison and am sitting now--I +cannot tell you where, but in a place of safety. I have been thus +successful by the aid of Laura. + +It is now four days since I saw your brother. Lulled to security by the +peaceable manner in which I had submitted to confinement, and imagining +Laura to be still in the interest of Mr. Clifton, though this silly +girl is now a very sincere penitent, the old woman began to indulge her +in still greater liberties. I warned Laura very seriously against any +precipitate attempts, for I saw it was probable this incautiousness +would increase, provided it were encouraged. + +No good opportunity offered till this morning, when Laura was suffered +to take the key of my prison chamber, and let herself in and out. + +The moment she told me of it I enquired what other obstacles there +were. Laura said we might get into the yard, but no further, for there +was a high wall which no woman could climb. I asked her if she thought +a man could climb it? She answered, yes, she had seen men do such +things, but she could not think how. + +The absence of Mr. Clifton for so long a time, without releasing me +from my imprisonment, made me in hourly expectation of his return. I +therefore did not stay to hesitate, but desired Laura to steal down +stairs before me, and open the door, for that I was determined to +attempt the wall. + +Laura was terrified at the fear of being left behind, for she said she +never could climb it. 'Alas! What was to become of her?'--I told her +she should have thought of consequences long ago; but that she might be +certain I would not desert her: on the contrary, I would go to the +first house I could find and send her relief, if I should happen to +climb a wall which she could not. Though, I likewise added, it was +weakness and folly to suppose that men were better able to climb walls +than women, or that she could not follow, if I could lead. + +The assurance of relief in part quieted her fears: she opened the first +door, stole down to the second, I followed, she unlocked it, and we +both got into the yard. + +The wall as she said was high and not easily climbed; but I had little +time for reflection: the old woman saw us through the window, and was +coming. + +To this wall there was a gate, equally high, but with a handle to shut, +ledges running across, and two or three cracked places that afforded +hold for the hand. You and I, Louisa, have often discoursed on the +excellence of active courage, and the much greater efforts of which +both sexes are capable than either of them imagine. I climbed the +gate with great speed and little I difficulty. + +The old woman was already in the yard, and Laura stood wondering to see +me on the top of the wall, fearing I should now break my neck in +getting down again, and still in greater terror at the approach of the +old woman. I made some attempt to persuade the latter to give Laura her +liberty; but our turnkey is very deaf, and instead of listening to me +she ran for some offensive weapon to beat me off the wall: so, once +more assuring Laura I would send her immediate aid, and keeping hold of +the gate post with my hand, I let myself down and with very little +hurt. + +I proceeded along a narrow lane: I knew not in what direction, but +hurried forward in great haste; not only from the possibility of being +pursued, but because it began to blow and rain very heavily. In less +than ten minutes I came to a house: I rang, a man came to the gate, and +I readily gained admission. I was shewn into the room where I am now +writing, and another person was sent to me, who perhaps is the master +of the house, though from his appearance I should rather suppose the +contrary. I asked first if it were possible to get a coach; and he +enquired where I came from? I told him, from a house at a considerable +distance, in the same lane, where I had been forcibly shut up, and +where my maid still was, whom I wished to have released; adding I would +well reward any two men, by whom it might easily be effected, if they +would go and help her over the wall. + +He listened very attentively, stood some time to consider, and then +replied there was no coach to be procured within a mile of the place, +but that a man should go for one; and that I might make myself easy +concerning the young woman (Laura) for she should soon join me. The +look and manner of the man did not please me, but the case was urgent, +the storm increasing, and I in want of shelter and protection. + +I then recollected it would perhaps be safest to write immediately to +Grosvenor-Street, to prevent surprise as well as to guard against +accidents, and I asked if he could furnish me with a sheet of paper and +pen and ink. He answered he feared not, but called a boy, and said to +him--'Did not I see you with some writing paper the other day?' The boy +answered yes; and he bade him go and fetch it, and bring me the pen and +ink. + +He then left me, and the boy presently returned, with a sheet of paper, +an old ink-bottle, and a very indifferent pen. The boy looked at me +earnestly, and then examined the pen, saying it was a very bad one, but +he would fetch me a better. + +The man who was just gone had told me that nobody could be spared, to +go as far as I required, in less than an hour at the soonest; I +therefore have time to write at length. + +I think there can be little doubt but that my Louisa is long before +this in Grosvenor-Street. I would not wish Sir Arthur to be informed +too suddenly, I will therefore direct to her at a venture; but for fear +of accidents will add to the direction--'If Miss Clifton be not there, +to be opened and read by Mrs. Clarke.'--In the present alarmed state of +the family this will ensure its being opened, even if both my good +friends should be absent. + +Good heaven! What does this mean?--I have just risen to see if the +little boy were within call, and find the door is locked upon me! + +I have been listening!--I hear stern and loud voices!--I fear I have +been very inconsiderate!--I know not what to think! + +Where am I?--Oh, Louisa, I am seized with terror! Looking into the +table-drawer at which I am sitting, in search of wafers, I have found +my own letter; opened, dirtied, and worn! Alas! You know of no such +letter!--Again I am addressing myself to the winds!--The very fatal +letter in which I mentioned the eight thousand pounds!--Where am I, +where am I?--In what is all this to end? + +All is lost!--Flight is hopeless!--The very man who headed the ruffians +that seized me has just walked into the room, placed himself with his +back against the door, surveyed me, satisfied himself who it was, then +warily left me, locked the door, and called a man to guard it!--Oh my +incautious folly! + +I am in the dwelling of demons!--I never heard such horrible +oaths!--Surely there is some peculiar mischief working!--The noise +increases, with unheard-of blasphemy! + +Merciful Heaven! I hear the voice of Frank!--What is doing?--Must I +remain here?--Oh misery!----What cries! + + + + +LETTER CXXVII + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover Street_ + +All is over, Fairfax!--I am just brought from the scene of blood!--You +see this is not my hand-writing--My hand must never write more--But I +would employ the little strength I have, in relating 'the last scene of +this eventful history'. My sister is my amanuensis. These surgical +meddlers issued their edict that I should not speak; but they found I +could be as obstinate as themselves: I would not suffer a probe to be +drawn at me till I had written, for when they begin I expect it will +soon be over. + +I remember I ended my last at the very minute I was about to mount my +horse. It was a wintery day. The rain fell in sheets, and the wind +roared in my face. My pistols were charged and locked in my pocket. + +I rode full speed, but I set off too late! When I approached the +madhouse, I heard the most piercing shrieks and cries of murder!--They +mingled with the storm, in wild and appalling horror!--I rang +violently at the bell!... A ready and an eager hand soon flew to open +the gate--It was Anna St. Ives!--A boy shewed her the way--It was her +cries and his, mingled with the blasphemies of the wretches above, +which I had heard! + +Her first word again was murder!--'Fly! Save him, save him!' + +I rushed forward--The noise above stairs was dreadful--I blundered and +missed the stairs, but the terrified boy had run after me to shew me. I +heard two pistols fire as I ascended--The horror that struck my heart +was inconceivable!--A fellow armed with a bludgeon was standing to +guard the door. My pistols were unlocked and ready: I presented and +bade him give way--He instantly obeyed--I made the lock fly and +entered!--The first object that struck my sight was Frank, besmeared +with blood, a discharged pistol in his hand, defending himself against +a fellow aiming blows at him with a bludgeon, Mac Fane hewing at him +with a cutlass, and the keeper, who had just been shot, expiring at his +feet! + +I fired at Mac Fane--My shot took place, though not so effectually but +that he turned round, made a stab at me, and pierced the abdomen almost +to the spine. But he had met his fate; and the return he made was most +welcome!--He fell, and the remaining antagonists of Frank immediately +fled. + +Frank is living, but dreadfully hacked by the villain Mac Fane. They +tell me his life is safe, and that his wounds are deep, but not +dangerous. Perhaps they mean to deceive me. If so their folly is +extreme, and their pity to me ill placed. I well know I deserve no +pity. + +With respect to myself, my little knowledge of surgery teaches me that +a wound so violent, made with a cutlass in such a part, must be mortal. +But mortality to me is a blessing. To live would indeed be misery. +Torments never yet were imagined equal to those I have for some time +endured: but, though I have lived raving, I do not mean to die canting. +Take this last adieu therefore, dear Fairfax, and do not because you +once esteemed me endeavour to palliate my errors. Let my letters to you +do justice to those I have injured. To have saved his life who once +saved mine, is a ray of consolation to that proud swelling heart, which +has sometimes delighted to confer, but has always turned averse from +the receiving of obligations, I would have been more circumstantial in +my narrative, were it not for the teasing kindness of my sister. + +Once more, and everlastingly, adieu! + +C. CLIFTON + +P.S. ADDED BY LOUISA CLIFTON + +As to a friend of my brother, sir, I have taken the liberty to delay +sending the letter, till his wound has been examined. The surgeons are +divided in their judgment. Two of them affirm the wound is mortal; the +third is positive that a cure is possible; especially considering the +youth and high courage of the patient, on which he particularly +insists. I dare not indulge myself too much in hope: I merely state +opinion. Neither dare I speak of my own sensations. Of the worth of a +mind like that of Mr. Clifton, you, sir, his friend and correspondent, +cannot be ignorant. The past is irrevocable; but hope always smiles on +the future. Should he recover--! Resignation becomes us, and time will +quickly relieve us from doubt. + +L. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXXVIII + +_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Mrs. Wenbourne_ + +_Grosvenor-Street_ + +I return you my sincere thanks, dear madam, for your kind +congratulations; and think myself honoured by the great joy you +express, at my safety and the deliverance of Mr. Henley. I will not +attempt to describe my own feelings; they are inexpressible; but will +endeavour to obey your commands, and give you the best account I am +able of all that has befallen us. + +For this purpose, I inclose the narrative written by Mr. Henley during +his confinement; and three letters addressed to my friend, Louisa, but +never sent; with a copy of a letter dictated by Mr. Clifton to his +friend, Mr. Fairfax. To these be pleased to add the following +particulars of what passed after Mr. Henley's narrative breaks off, and +the sudden interruption of my third letter by terror. Mr. Henley heard +but had no time to write their last consultation. It was the eagerness +of the keeper which overcame the reluctance of Mac Fane to the murder, +till he should have procured the bond of Mr. Clifton. The keeper was +violent: he had bargained with his two men to assist in the murder, for +fifty pounds each; and he told Mac Fane, if he would not consent, they +would proceed without him, and he should have no share of the eight +thousand pounds. + +This argument had its effect: Mac Fane had some doubts relative to the +money won of Mr. Clifton; and four thousand pounds was a temptation not +to be resisted. + +Mr. Henley omitted mentioning a circumstance that occurred of some +moment, because he did not know the meaning of it. Probably they had +planned it out of his hearing. The day before the attack, the keeper +returned him his watch and purse, with the same sum, but not, as Mr. +Henley thinks, the same pieces, it contained when delivered. The +purpose of this, it appears, was to make him believe the keeper a man +of his word. + +On the morning of the intended murder, previous to the assault, the +keeper came up to Mr. Henley; but not into the room. He talked to him +with the usual security of his chains, and proposed that Mr. Henley +should deliver up the bank-bills, which the keeper now told him he knew +to be in his possession; with a promise that they should be returned, +as the watch and purse had been. An artifice so shallow was not likely +to impose on Mr. Henley. He had determined how to act, relative to the +bank bills, and answered it was true they were in his possession; but +that he would not deliver them to the keeping of any other. Immediately +after this repulse, the keeper, Mac Fane, and the two attendants +ascended. + +The keeper (I speak after Mr. Henley) was much the most confident, and +seemed chiefly fearful that Mr. Henley should slip by them. He +therefore stationed one of his men at the outside of the door, which he +ordered him to lock and guard. Himself, Mac Fane, and the other entered +the room; the keeper and the man each with a bludgeon, and Mac Fane +with a pair of pistols and his cutlass hanging by his side. + +Mr. Henley had purposely kept up a good fire, and had the bank bills in +his hand. He bade them keep off a moment, as if he wished to parley; +and they, desirous of having the bills quietly, remained where they +were. Mr. Henley then took the bills one by one, repeating the amount +of each to convince them that the whole sum was there, and then +suddenly thrust them into the fire. They all rushed forward to save +them, and this was the lucky moment on which Mr. Henley seized the two +arms of Mac Fane, who, on account of his weapons, was the principal +object, and who, intending to fire at him, in the struggle shot the +keeper. The other pistol Mr. Henley wrested from him, during which +contest it went off, but without doing mischief. + +Mac Fane then drew his hanger, and made several cuts at Mr. Henley, who +was attacked on the other side by the keeper's man. + +In the heat of this conflict Mr. Clifton arrived; and what then +followed, his letter will inform you. + +It is necessary I should now say a word of myself, and of the small +part which I had in this very dreadful affair. And here I must remind +you of the boy, so often mentioned in Mr. Henley's narrative; for to +him, perhaps, we all owe our safety. At least, had it not been for him, +Mr. Clifton could not certainly have gained admission. + +The poor fellow heard and saw enough to let him understand some strange +crime was in agitation. He has great acuteness and sensibility: he +looked at me when I first came, in a very significant manner; and would +have spoken had he dared. + +The door of the room in which I was shut was both locked and bolted; +but the man that was set to guard it was wanted, for a more +blood-thirsty purpose. + +I need not inform you how much my fears were alarmed, the moment I +found myself in the custody of the man by whom I had at first been +seized. But how infinitely was my terror increased when I heard the +voice of Frank, which I did very distinctly, and presently afterward of +the horror about to be committed! My shrieks were incessant! The poor +boy heard them, and though shrieking with terror almost as violent as +my own, yet had the presence of mind to come and set me free. + +Mr. Clifton's ringing was heard at the same moment. The top bolt of the +gate was high, and I opened it with difficulty; but despair lent me +force. It certainly could not have been opened time enough by the boy. + +Of this and the following scene, and of the agonizing sensations that +accompanied them, I will attempt no further description. I will now +only relate by what means, and whose aid, we left this house of horror. + +You know, madam, with what activity my dear Louisa exerted herself, and +employed every expedient in her power. You are likewise acquainted with +the zeal of Mrs. Clarke, her niece Peggy, and the two men, her husband +and brother. Their ardour increased rather than abated. + +Mr. Webb, whose watchings and efforts were incessant, saw Mac Fane step +out of a hackney-coach into the shop where Mr. Clifton lodges. This I +understand to have happened on the ninth evening of my confinement. It +was natural that this circumstance should immediately excite suspicion +and alarm. The coach was dismissed, Mac Fane remained, and Mr. Webb +continued hovering about the door, waiting in expectation of seeing him +come out, till two o'clock in the morning, but waiting in vain: after +which, concluding that he had missed him, he quitted his post. + +On the morrow, by very diligent enquiry, he found out Mac Fane's +lodgings; but he had not been at home all night. The same ineffectual +search was continued during that and the next day; but, on the morning +of deliverance, Mr. Webb met a person with whom he had formerly been +acquainted, who told him of the house hired by the keeper, and +mentioned the names of his two assistants, with rumours and surmises +sufficiently dark and unintelligible, but enough to make Mr. Webb +suppose it was possible the persons he was in search of were there +confined. + +The intelligence was immediately brought to Louisa and Sir Arthur, and +application as immediately made to the magistracy. Webb had obtained +very accurate information of the site of the house; and, what was more +effectual, had prevailed on his informer to lend his aid. + +The relief he brought, though too late to prevent mischief, was not +wholly useless; Mr. Clifton was the first object of our care; for Mr. +Henley, though bruised, cut, and mangled has received no serious +injury. Laura was likewise sent for and relieved from her prison. +Proper conveyances were soon provided, and we all removed as fast as +possible from this scene of horror. + +You may be sure, madam, we did not forget to bring the boy with us. Mr. +Henley has an affection for him, which the poor fellow very sincerely +returns; and finds himself relieved from the most miserable of +situations, and placed in the most happy. + +That I may wholly acquit myself of the task I have undertaken, I must +just mention the Count de Beaunoir. He is a gentleman of the most +pleasant temper. Urbanity is his distinctive mark, for in this quality +most of his flights originate. He has thought himself my admirer, but +in reality he is the general admirer of whatever he supposes excellent. +When he was told of my being affianced to Mr. Henley, instead of +expressing chagrin, he broke into raptures at our mutual happiness, and +how much it was merited. He does not seem to understand the selfishness +of jealousy. + +Perhaps, madam, you have not heard the last accounts of the physical +gentlemen, relative to Mr. Clifton. The surgeon who first gave hope is +now positive of a cure; and his opponents begin to own it is not +impossible, but they will not yet allow that Mr. Clifton is out of +danger. + +The Count de Beaunoir has paid Mr. Clifton the utmost attention; he +visits him twice a day, and, according to the accounts my friend gives +me, infuses a spirit of benevolence and affection into his visits which +are highly honourable to his heart. Indeed I and Mr. Henley have +several times met him there: for you may well imagine, madam, we are +not the least attentive of Mr. Clifton's visitors. It is at present the +sole study of Mr. Henley, which way best to address himself to a heart +and understanding so capable of generous sensations, and noble +energies. There is an attachment to consistency in the human mind, +which will not admit of any sudden and absolute change; it must be +gradual: but thus much may with certainty be said, Mr. Clifton does not +at present, and I hope will never again, treat with complacency those +vindictive but erroneous notions which had so nearly proved destructive +to all. He makes no professions; but so much the better; he thinks them +the more strongly. His mind preserves its usual tone; is sometimes +disturbed even to excess, and bitterly angry, almost to phrensy, at its +own mistakes; but has lost none of those quick and powerful qualities, +by which it is so highly distinguished. + +Sir Arthur, madam, has desired me to communicate a circumstance, which +I shall readily do, without the false delicacy of supposing that I am +not the proper person. It is agreed, between him and Mr. Abimelech +Henley, that the marriage between me and Mr. Frank Henley shall take +place in a month; to which I thought it my duty to assent. I am sorry, +madam, that Lord Fitz-Allen should continue to imagine his honour will +be sullied by this marriage: but I am in like manner sorry for a +thousand follies, which I daily see in the world, without having the +immediate power of correcting one of them. + +A. W. ST. IVES + + + + +LETTER CXXIX + +_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_ + +_London, Dover-Street_ + +It is not to be endured! They drive me mad! I will not have life thus +palmed upon me! There is neither kindness nor justice in it. I will +hear no more of duty, and philanthropy, and general good! I am all +fiend!--Hell-born!--The boon companion of the foulest miscreants the +womb of sin ever vomited on earth!--The arm in arm familiar of +them!--In the face of the world!--This it is to be honourable!--I +am a man of honour, a despiser of peasants, an assertor of rank!-- + +Day after day, hour after hour, here I lie, rolling, ruminating on +ideas which none but demons could suggest; haunted by visions which +devils only could conjure up! And wish me to live? Where is the charity +of that? Angels though they be, they have made me miserable! I know I +have injured them; I don't deny it. Say what they will, they cannot +forgive me--Shall I ask it?--No!--Hell should not make me! I will have +no more favours; I am loaded too much already. + +For it cannot be true!--Their hearts can feel no kindness for +me!--Oh!-- + +I have lost her!--For ever lost her!--Yet even this deep damnation I +could bear, I think I could, had I not made myself so very foul and +detestable a villain!--It is intolerable!--The rage of cannibals to +mine is patience! I could feed on human hearts; my own the first and +sweetest morsel! + +Well, well!--Her I have lost; him I have injured!--Injured?--Arrogance, +outrage, contempt, blows, imprisonment, and murder!--These are the +damning injuries I have done him!--took greatness upon me; I mimicked +tyranny, and pretended to inflict large vengeance for petty +affronts!--I trusted in wiles, and imagined mind might be caught in a +net! + +Lo how the adder egg of vanity can brood in its own dunghill, and hatch +itself to persecution, rape, and murder!--Lo how Guilt and Folly +couple, and engender darkness to hide their own deformity!--The picture +is mine!--Black, midnight rape, and blood red murder! A horrid but +indubitable likeness. + +There are but two ways, either to live and pursue revenge, or to die +and forget it--Of the pursuit I am weary. I have had a full meal of +villany, and am glutted: its foulness is insufferable, and I turn from +it loathing. Then welcome death! Again it would have sought me, but for +their eternal officiousness. It is in vain. There are swords, pistols, +and poison still. Life has a thousand outlets: and to live, knowing +what I know and never can forget, would be rank and hateful cowardice! +I am determined. I will listen to their glosses no more. Persuasion is +vain, and soothing mockery. + +Yet one act of justice I will perform before I die. Send me my +letters, Fairfax. They shall see me in my native colours!--Send them +directly!--There is consolation in the thought--They have dared to shew +letters that exposed them to persecution and malice--I will shew what +shall expose me to contempt and hatred!--Let them equal me if they +can--I am Clifton!--Inimitable in absurdity, in vice damnable!-- + +Take copies if you will. Proclaim me to the world! Read them in +coffee-houses, nail them up at the market cross! Let boys hoot at me, +and trulls and drabs pluck me by the beard!--What can they?--It is I, +myself, who hold the scorpion whip!--'Tis memory!--What! Envy, rage, +revenge, hatred, rape and murder, all possessing one man?--Poor +creature! Poor creature!--Pity him, Fairfax!--Pity?--Ask pity?--Despise +him! Trample on him! Spit in his face! + +C. CLIFTON + + + + +LETTER CXXX + +_Frank Henley to Oliver Trenchard_ + +_London, Grosvenor Street_ + +How violent and reiterated are the conflicts, between truth and error, +in every mind of ardour!--And, of all errors, the love of self is the +most rooted, the least easy to detect, and supremely difficult to +eradicate. We can pardon ourselves any thing, except a want of +self-respect; but that is intolerable. + +I described, in my last,[1] the dissatisfied state of mind of Mr. +Clifton. But, while he imagined he should die and soon lose all memory +of a scene become so irksome to him, his dissatisfaction was trifling, +compared to what it is at present. Repugnant as the idea was to his +habitual feelings, still I have more than half convinced him that +suicide is an act as cowardly as it is criminal. Yet to live and face +the world, loaded as he imagines with unpardonable crimes and +everlasting ignominy, is a thing to which he knows not how to consent. +To combat this new mistake, into which he has fallen, has for some time +past been my chief employment. No common efforts could assuage the +turbulence of his tempestuous soul. Energy superior even to his own was +necessary, to subject and calm this perturbation. But, in the +simplicity of truth, this energy was easy to be found: it is from +self-distrust, confusion or cowardice, if it ever fail. + +[Footnote 1: Omitted.] + +I have just left him, and our conversation will give you the best +history of his mind, which is well worthy our study. I found him +verging even toward delirium, and a fever coming on, which if not +impeded might soon be fatal. He keeps his bed; but instead of lying at +his ease, he remained raised on his elbow, having just finished a +letter to his friend. Louisa had described the state of his mind, and I +resolved to catch its tone, that I might the more certainly command his +attention. Without preface, and as if continuing a chain of reasoning, +he addressed me; with his eye fixed, in all the ardour of enquiry. + +What is man?--What are his functions, qualities, and uses?--Does he not +sleep trembling, live envying, and die cursing?--And is this worth +aught?--Is it to be endured?--Why do I suffer life thus to be imposed +upon me? + +It is not suffering: or, if it be, such sufferings are of our own +creation--To the virtuous and the wise, life is joy and bliss. + +Perhaps so--Wisdom there may be, and truth and virtue. And, for the +virtuous and the wise, the full stream of pleasure may richly flow: but +not for me! Pretend not that I may walk with the gods! I who have been +the inmate of fiends! I, who proposed glory to myself from the most +contemptible of pursuits! I, who could dangle after coquettes and +prudes; feed on and inflate myself with the baubles of a beauty's +toilette; and, in the book of vanity, inscribe myself a great hero, a +mighty conqueror, for having heaped ridicule on the ridiculous; or +brought innocence to shame, misery, and destruction! And this I did +with a light and vain heart! Did it laughing, boasting, exulting! +Satanic dog! Pest of hell! What! Stretch souls on the rack, and then +girn and mock at them for lying there! 'Tis the sport of devils, and by +devils invented! + +Your present indignation is honourable both to your heart and +understanding. + +Oh, flatter me not!--Vain, supercilious coxcomb!--I spread my wings, +crowed in conceit, threatened, resolved, laughed at opposition, and +kicked the world before me!--Oh, it was who but I!--And what was it I +proposed?--Fair conquest?--Honourable opposition?--No!--It was +treachery, covert malice, and cowardly conspiracy!--A league with +hell-dogs!--Horrible, blood-thirsty villains!--And baffled too; +defeated, after all this infernal enginery! Nay, had I been so wholly +devil as to have joined in murder, what would have followed? Why they +would next have murdered me; and for the justice of the second murder +would have hoped pardon, even for the hell-born guilt of the first! + +Do not, while you detest and shun one crime, plunge into a greater. +This agony is for having been unjust to others; you are now still more +unjust to yourself. You will not suppose yourself capable of a single +virtue: yet, in your most mistaken moments, you never could be so +illiberal to your enemies. + +Would you persuade me I am not a most guilty, foul, and hateful +monster?--Oh be more worthy of yourself, avoid me, detest me, curse me! + +I will answer when you are more calm. + +Calm?--Never, while this degraded being shall continue, shall such a +moment come!--I calm? Sleeping or waking, I at peace? I pardon +hypocrisy, treachery, blows, bruises, prisons, chains, poison, rape and +murder? Ministers of wrath descend, point here your flaming swords, +annihilate all memory of what manhood and honour were, and fit me for +the society of the damned! + +Forbear!--(Never before did I address him in such a voice--The last +dreadful word of his sentence was drowned, by my stern and awful +violence; which reason dictated as the only means of recalling his +maddening thoughts, from the despair and horror into which they were +hurrying--I continued)--Frantic man, forbear! Recall your wild spirits +and command them to order. How long will you suffer this petty slavery? +How long shall the giant rage, and expend his strength, in tearing up +stubble and rending straws?--Stretch forth your hand, and grasp the +oak--Labours worthy of your Herculean mind await and invite you. Away +to the temple of Error; shake its pillars, and make its foundations +totter!--Be yourself--Shall the soaring eagle swoop at reptiles, the +prey of bats and owls? + +Do not mock me with impossible hopes--What! Have you not held the +mirror up to me, and shewn me my own hatefulness? + +Are you a man? Will you never shake off this bondage? Oh it is base! +it is beneath you! Of what have you been guilty? Why of ignorance, +mistakes of the understanding, false views, which you wanted knowledge +enough, truth enough, to correct. Have not many of the godlike men whom +we admire most been guilty, in their youth, of equal or of greater +errors?--Thus, alas, it happens that minds of the highest hope, and +most divine stamp and coinage, are cut off daily; swept away by +that other grand mistake of man-kind--'Exemplary punishment is +necessary'--So they say--But no--'Tis exemplary reformation! Can the +world be better warned by a body in gibbets, than by the active virtues +of a once misguided but now enlightened understanding? The gibbet will +remain an object of terror to the traveller, who dreads being robbed +and murdered; but an incitement to despair, in the mind of the +murderer!--Banish then these black pictures from your mind, by +which it continues darkened and misled; and in their stead behold a +soul-inspiring prospect, of all that is great and glorious, rising to +your view! Feel yourself a man! Nay you shall feel it, in your own +despite! A man capable of high and noble actions! + +Here, Oliver, I at this time left him. His eye remained fixed, and he +was silent; but its wildness was diminished: the frown of his brow +disappeared, and his countenance became more clear. Such associations +as these tokens denoted ought not to meet interruption. However I took +care to return in less than an hour; fearful lest he should decline +into his former gloom, which was little short of phrensy. I had been +fortunate enough to reduce his discordant feelings to something like +harmony; and the moment I entered his room the second time he +exclaimed-- + +You are a generous fellow! A magnanimous fellow! You can work +miracles!--I know you of old--Can bring the dead to life!--Can almost +persuade me that even I, by living, may now and then effect some +trifling, pitiful good; may snatch some of the remnants, the offals of +honour--But aught eminent, aught worthy of-- + +Be calm. + +No! It cannot be forgotten, or forgiven!--Cruel, malignant, remorseless +wretch! + +Can you speak thus of the present?--You know you cannot!--And wherefore +unjustly insist on the past? Be firm! Conquer this pride of heart! + +Why, ay--Pride of heart! It is the very damning sin of my soul! + +Exorcise the foul fiend then, and in its stead give welcome to firm but +unassuming self-respect. Arise! Shake torpor from you, and feel your +strength! It is Atlean; made to bear a world! Cherish life, and become +worthy of yourself! What! Would you kill a mind so mighty? Do you not +feel it, now; possessing you, emanating, flaming, bursting to spread +itself? + +Why, that were something!--Could I but once again get into my own good +liking--! You are a strange fellow!--You will not hate me! Nay, will +not suffer me to hate myself!--Damnation! To be cast at such an immense +distance! Oh it is intolerable! It is contemptible!--But I will have my +revenge!--Some how or another I will yet have my revenge! And, since +hate must not be the word, why--! But no matter--I will have no more +vaunting--Yet, if I do not--! I have had a glimpse, and begin to know +you--The soul of benevolence, of tenderness, of attention, of love, of +all the divine faculties that make men deities, infuses itself and +pervades you--Had I but been wholly fool, I had been but partly +villain--But I!--Oh monstrous!--The fiends with whom I was leagued to +me were angels! + +Why, ay; contemplate the picture, but do not forget it is that of a man +you once knew, who is now no more. He has disappeared, and in his stead +an angel of light is come! + +Stop!--Go not too fast!--I promise nothing--Mark that!--I promise +nothing--Do not imagine I am now in the feverish repentance of white +wine whey--You would have me stay in a world which I myself have +rendered hateful--I will think of it--I know your arts--You would +realize the fable of Pygmalion, and would infuse soul into marble! + +There is no need; you have a soul already; inventive, capacious, +munificent, sublime! + +Ay, ay--I know--You have a choice collection of words. + +A soul of ten thousand! Nay, an army of souls in one! + +And must I submit? Are you determined to make a rascal like me admire, +and love, and give place to all the fine affections of the heart? + +Ay, determined! + +Oh, sister!--(Louisa at this moment entered.) To you too I have behaved +like a scoundrel! A tyrant! A petulant, ostentatious, imperious +braggart! + +You mistake! replied Louisa, eagerly. You mistake! You are talking of a +very different man! A being I could not understand. You are my +brother!--My brother!--I have found the way to your heart! Will make it +all my own! Will twine myself round it! Shake me off if you can! + +The energy with which she spoke, and looked, and kissed him, was +irresistible! He was overpowered: the tears gushed to his eyes, but he +repressed them; he thought them unmanly; and, seeing his medical friend +enter, exclaimed--I have surgeons for the body, and surgeons for the +mind, who cut with so deep yet so steady a hand that they take away the +noxious, and leave the wound to suppurate and heal! + +Can we do less? said I. Ours is no common task! We are acting in behalf +of society: we have found a treasure, by which it is to be enriched. +Few indeed are those puissant and heavenly endowed spirits, that are +capable of guiding, enlightening, and leading the human race onward to +felicity! What is there precious but mind? And when mind, like a +diamond of uncommon growth, exceeds a certain magnitude, calculation +cannot find its value! + +I once more left him; and never did I quit the company of human being, +no not of Anna St. Ives herself, with a more glowing and hoping heart. +But why describe sensations to thee, Oliver, with which thou art so +intimately acquainted? To bid thee rejoice, to invite thee to +participate in felicity, which may and must so widely diffuse itself, +were equally to wrong thy understanding and thy heart. + +F. HENLEY + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna St. Ives, by Thomas Holcroft + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA ST. 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