_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.