1 files changed, 20946 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/old/7asti10.txt b/old/7asti10.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cfc8845
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/7asti10.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,20946 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna St. Ives, by Thomas Holcroft
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
+this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
+
+This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
+Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
+header without written permission.
+
+Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
+eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
+important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
+how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
+donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Anna St. Ives
+
+Author: Thomas Holcroft
+
+Release Date: December, 2005  [EBook #9468]
+[This file was first posted on October 3, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ANNA ST. IVES ***
+
+
+
+
+E-text prepared 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, ANNA ST. IVES ***
+
+This file should be named 7asti10.txt or 7asti10.zip
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7asti11.txt
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7asti10a.txt
+
+Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
+even years after the official publication date.
+
+Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.
+
+Most people start at our Web sites at:
+http://gutenberg.net or
+http://promo.net/pg
+
+These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
+Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
+eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).
+
+
+Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
+can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
+also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
+indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
+announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.
+
+http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext05 or
+ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext05
+
+Or /etext04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92,
+91 or 90
+
+Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
+as it appears in our Newsletters.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
+files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
+We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
+If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
+will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.
+
+Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):
+
+eBooks Year Month
+
+    1  1971 July
+   10  1991 January
+  100  1994 January
+ 1000  1997 August
+ 1500  1998 October
+ 2000  1999 December
+ 2500  2000 December
+ 3000  2001 November
+ 4000  2001 October/November
+ 6000  2002 December*
+ 9000  2003 November*
+10000  2004 January*
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
+to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
+and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
+Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
+Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
+Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
+Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
+Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
+Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
+Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
+
+We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
+that have responded.
+
+As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
+will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
+Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.
+
+In answer to various questions we have received on this:
+
+We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
+request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
+you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
+just ask.
+
+While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
+not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
+donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
+donate.
+
+International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
+how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
+deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
+ways.
+
+Donations by check or money order may be sent to:
+
+ PROJECT GUTENBERG LITERARY ARCHIVE FOUNDATION
+ 809 North 1500 West
+ Salt Lake City, UT 84116
+
+Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
+method other than by check or money order.
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
+the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
+[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
+tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
+requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
+made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+You can get up to date donation information online at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html
+
+
+***
+
+If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
+you can always email directly to:
+
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+
+Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.
+
+We would prefer to send you information by email.
+
+
+**The Legal Small Print**
+
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
+you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
+is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
+through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
+Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
+under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
+any commercial products without permission.
+
+To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
+receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
+all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from. If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
+and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
+with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
+texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
+legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
+following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
+[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
+or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word
+     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
+     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
+     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
+     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
+     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
+     let us know your plans and to work out the details.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
+public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
+in machine readable form.
+
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
+public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
+Money should be paid to the:
+"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
+software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
+hart@pobox.com
+
+[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
+when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
+Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
+used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
+they hardware or software or any other related product without
+express permission.]
+
+*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
+