Anna St. Ives Part 14

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 nonent.i.ty. 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 c.o.ke 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 chastis.e.m.e.nt, 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 x.x.x

_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 pa.s.sed began by Mr. Clifton's affirming, with Pope, that men had and would have, to the end of time, each a ruling pa.s.sion. This I denied, if by ruling pa.s.sion were meant the indulgence of any irregular appet.i.te, or the fostering of any erroneous system. I was asked, with a sneer, for my recipe to subdue the pa.s.sions; 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 pa.s.sion, 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 pa.s.sions?

All.

What! The pa.s.sion 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 pa.s.sion of love. Any and all of our pa.s.sions are unconquerable, whenever we shall be weak enough to think them so. Does not the gamester plead the unconquerableness of his pa.s.sion? 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 pa.s.sion succeeds to pa.s.sion as different habits give birth to each, and the last pa.s.sion proves more unconquerable than its predecessor. How frequently do we see people in the very fever of this unconquerable pa.s.sion of love, which disappears for the rest of their lives, after a few weeks possession of the object whom they had so pa.s.sionately loved! How often do they as pa.s.sionately 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 pa.s.sions, I know none more n.o.ble than that of aiding to subdue the pa.s.sions of others. To restore a languis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+elds 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 pa.s.sion! 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 x.x.xI

_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_

_Paris, Hotel de l'Universite_

The a.s.siduity 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.