_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!