LETTER XLVI. CAPT. ARL--TON TO MR. IL--RAY.

Louisville, June.

It is impossible for me to see Caroline in the present state of my

mind, and therefore I hope you will not look upon it in the least

disrespectful, my friend, if I should happen to be absent when you

arrive; for to be candid with you, I shall make a journey purposely to

Lexington.

Your obliging favour from Pittsburg, which you meant should give me

spirits, has had quite a contrary effect.

By attempting to soothe my mind, I discover that secret poison,

flattery, ever contains, and which I consider the principal cause of

my present wretchedness.

The image you have given of Caroline makes her appear to me more

lovely than ever; and when you say that enchantment seems to spring up

where e'er she treads, I feel the full force of all her charms, and

conceive that I behold her in this season of fragrance and beauty,

decorating those gardens which you passed through on your return from

the fatal view upon the Allegany,

While the blushing rose, drooping hides its head,

As Caroline's sweets more odorous prove,

And op'ning lilies look faint, sick, and dead,--

For things inanimate, feel the force of love.

She is irresistible--and it is only by absence that I shall ever be

enabled to forget my misfortunes, and therefore, my dear friend, I

must request that in your future letters, when you mention that divine

woman, you will not appreciate that beauty which has ten thousand

charms to fascinate and fetter the soul.

She has not only all the symmetry of form, the softness of love, and

the enchantment of a goddess; but she can assume an animation and that

surprising activity of motion, that while you are suspended in the

transports of astonishment, you are lost in admiration at the

gracefulness with which she moves--I have seen her bound over a rock,

and pluck a wild honey-suckle, that grew upon the side of a precipice,

and while I stood gazing at her in amazement, she has brought it as a

trophy of her exertions.

Believe, my friend, that if ever nature formed one woman to excel

another in personal charms, it must be Caroline.

* * * * *

I leave this enclosed in a packet for General W----. I am this moment

informed there are boats making round Diamond Island. Who knows but one

of them contains the lovely Caroline? Ah! my friend, I feel every

emotion of love and shame so powerfully, that I must instantly fly to

avoid exposing myself--curse that mandate which banished me from the

lovely tyrant of my heart--curse the vanity which exposed my

weakness;--for damnable is that fate which compels a man to avoid the

object of all others, which to him is the most interesting--I must this

instant be off. O Caroline!--Caroline! while my soul deadens at the

thought, I abandon the spot which will be converted into elysium the

moment you arrive. Forgive me, my friend, this effusion of nature--this

weakness, for it prepares us for those delicious raptures, that flow

from the source of sympathy, and while it softens us to that tender

texture, which is congenial to feminine charms, it invigorates our

actions, and fosters every generous and noble sentiment.

The streamers of your vessels, for it must be you, are playing in the

wind, as if enraptured with the treasure over which they impend, seem

eradiated with the charms of Caroline; while the gentle Ohio, as if

conscious of its charge, proudly swells, and appears to vie with the

more elevated earth, in order to secure to its divinity, upon which to

tread at her disembarkation, the flowery carpet of its banks.

Adieu. I am off. J. A.

Kentucky in American Letters, 1784-1912. Vol. 1 of 2 · 第 27 / 300 题