_Harriot_ to _Harrington_.
_Boston._
MUST I then forget the endearments of the lover, and call you
by the name of brother? But does our friendship remain upon this
foundation? Is this all that unites us? And has there subsisted nothing
more tender—a sentiment more voluntary in our hearts? My feelings affirm
that there was. At the hour of our first interview I felt the passion
kindle in my breast. Insensible of my own weakness, I indulged its
increasing violence and delighted in the flame that fired my reason and
my senses. Do you remember our walks, our conversation, our
diversions?—The remembrance of these things fill my mind with
inconceivable torture—they seem to reproach me with unmerited
criminality—I deprecate, I detest all these scenes of gaiety and
frivolity—yet I have preserved my innocence and my virtue—what then have
I to deprecate, what have I to detest?
ALAS! how have we been forming schemes of happiness, and mocking our
hearts with unsubstantial joys. Farewel! farewel! ye gilded scenes of
imagination. How have we been deluded by visionary prospects, and idly
dwelt upon that happiness which was never to arrive. How fleeting have
been the days that were thus employed!—when anticipation threw open the
gates of happiness, and we vainly contemplated the approach of bliss;
and we beheld in reversion, the pleasures of life, and fondly promised
ourselves, one day to participate in them; when we beheld in the magick
mirrour of futurity, the lively group of loves that sport in the train
of joy. We observed in transports of delight the dear delusion, and saw
them, as it were, in bodily form pass in review before us; as the fabled
hero views the region of præexistant spirits, and beholds a race of men
yet to be born.
SUCH was our hope, but even this fairy anticipation was not irrational.
We were happy in idea, nor was the reality far behind. And why is the
vision vanished? O! I sink, I die, when I reflect—when I find in my
_Harrington_ a brother—I am penetrated with inexpressible grief—I
experience uncommon sensations—I start with horrour at the idea of
incest—of ruin—of perdition.
HOW do I lament this fatal discovery, that includes the termination of a
faithful love! I think of him whom I have resolved to be eternally
constant—and ah! how often have I resolved it in my heart. I indulge, in
idea, the recollection of his caresses—of his protestations, and of his
truth and sincerity—I become lost in a wilderness, and still I travel
on, and find myself no nearer an escape. I cherish the dear idea of a
lover—I see the danger and do not wish to shun it, because to avoid it,
is to forget it—And can I, at one stroke, erase from my mind the
remembrances of all in which my heart used to delight? Ah! I have not
the fortitude—I have not the virtue, to “forget myself to marble.” On
the contrary, I strive no longer to remember our present connexion. I
endeavour to forget—I curse the idea of a brother—my hand refuses to
trace the word, and yet
——The name appears
Already written; blot it out my tears!
AH, whence this sorrow that invests my soul! This gloom that
darkens—this fire of impassioned grief, that involves all my thoughts!
why do I rave, and why do I again abandon myself to despair! Come, O
_Harrington_! be a friend, a protector, a brother—be him, on whom I
could never yet call by the tender, the endearing title of _parent_. I
will reverence him in whom all the charities of life are united—I will
be dutiful and affectionate to you, and you shall be unto me as a
father—I will bend on the knee of respect and love, and will receive
your blessing.
WHY did you go away so soon? Why leave me when I was incapable of
bidding you adieu? When you pressed my cheek with the kiss of love, of
fraternal affection what meant its conscious glow? What meant the
ebullition of my veins, the disorder of my nerves, the intoxication of
my brain, the blood that mantled in my heart? My hand trembled, and
every object seemed to swim before my doubtful view—Amidst the struggle
of passion, how could I pronounce the word—how could I call you by the
title of brother? True—I attempted to articulate the sound, but it died
upon my tongue, and I sank motionless into your arms.
ALLIED by birth, and in mind, and similar in age—and in thought still
more intimately connected, the sympathy which bound our souls together,
at first sight, is less extraordinary. Shall we any longer wonder at its
irresistible impulse?—Shall we strive to oppose the _link of nature_
that draws us to each other? When I reflect on this, I relapse into
weakness and tenderness, and become a prey to warring passions. I view
you in two distinct characters: If I indulge the idea of one, the other
becomes annihilated, and I vainly imagine I have my choice of a brother
or—
I AM for a while calm—but alas! how momentary is that calmness; I dwell
with rapture on what fancy has represented; but is the choice regulated
by virtue? Is it prompted by reason? I recollect myself, and endeavour
to rouse my prudence and fortitude; I abhor my conduct, and wish for
obscurity and forgetfulness. Who can bear the torment of fluctuating
passion? How deplorable is the contest? The head and the heart are at
variance, but when Nature pleads how feeble is the voice of Reason? Yet,
when Reason is heard in her turn, how criminal appears every wish of my
heart? What remorse do I experience? What horrours surround me? Will my
feeble frame, already wasted by a lingering decline, support these
evils? Will the shattered, frail bark outride the tempest, and will the
waves of affliction beat in vain? Virtue, whose precepts I have not
forgotten, will assist me—if not to _surmount_, at least to _suffer_
with fortitude and patience.
OH! I fear, I fear my decaying health—If I must depart, let me beseech
you to forget me—I know the strength of your passion, and I dread the
fatal consequences my departure may occasion you.
ONCE more let me intreat you, my dear friend, to arm yourself with every
virtue which is capable of sustaining the heaviest calamity. Let the
impetuosity of the lover’s passion be forgotten in the undisturbed
quietness of the brother’s affection, and may all the blessings that
life can supply be yours—Seek for content, and you will find it, even
though we should never meet again in this world.
Adieu!