_Louisa Clifton to Her Brother, Coke Clifton_
_Rose-Bank_
It is long, my dear brother, since I received a letter from you; and
still longer since I had the pleasure to see you. How many rivers,
seas, valleys, and mountains have you traversed, since that time! What
various nations, what numerous opposite and characteristic countenances
have you beheld! From all and each of them I hope you have learned
something. I hope the succession of objects has not been so quick as to
leave vacuity in the mind.
My propensity to moralize used formerly [And our formerlies you know,
brother, are not of any long duration.] to tease and half put you out
of temper. Indulge me once more in hoping it will not do so at present;
for I believe I am more prone to this habit than ever. What can I say
to my brother? Shall I tattle to him the scandal of the village, were I
mistress of it? Shall I describe to him the fashion of a new cap; or
the charms of a dress that has lately travelled from Persia to Paris,
from Paris to London, and from London to Rose-Bank? Or shall I recount
the hopes and fears of a sister; who has sometimes the temerity to
think; who would be so unfashionable as to love her brother, not for
the cut of his coat, not for the French or Italian phrases with which
he might interlard his discourse, not for any recital of the delight
which foreign ladies took in him and which he took in foreign ladies,
not for a loud tongue and a prodigious lack of wit, not for any of the
antics or impertinences which I have too frequently remarked in young
men of fashion, but for something directly the reverse of all these:
for well-digested principles, an ardent desire of truth, incessant
struggles to shake off prejudices; for emanations of soul, bursts of
thought, and flashes of genius. For such a brother, oh how eager would
be my arms, how open my heart!
Do not think, my dear Clifton, I am unjust enough to mean any thing
personal; to satirize what I can scarcely be said to have seen, or to
condemn unheard. No. Your faculties were always lively. You have seen
much, must have learned much, and why may I not suppose you are become
all that a sister's heart can desire? Pardon me if I expect too much.
Do we not all admire and seek after excellence? When we are told such a
person is a man of genius, do we not wish to enquire into the fact?
And, if true, are we not desirous of making him our intimate? And do
not the ties of blood doubly enforce such wishes, in a brother's
behalf? From what you were, I have no doubt but that you are become an
accomplished man. But I hope you are also become something much better.
I hope that, by the exertion of your talents, acquirements, and genius,
I shall see you the friend of man, and the true citizen of the world.
If you are all that I hope, I think you will not be offended with these
sisterly effusions. If you are not, or but in part, you may imagine me
vain and impertinent. But still I should suppose you will forgive me,
because you are so seldom troubled with such grave epistles; and one
now and then, if not intolerably long, may be endured from an elder
sister.
Yet why do I say elder? Neither age nor station have any just claim;
for there can be none, except the claims of truth and reason; against
which there is no appeal. I am eighteen months older than my brother,
and up rises the claim of eldership! Such are the habits, the
prejudices we have to counteract.
My dear mamma has mentioned Sir Arthur St. Ives, in her letter, and his
lovely daughter, Anna; more lovely in mind even than in form, and of
the latter a single glance will enable you to judge. I need not request
you to be attentive and civil to her, for it is impossible you should
be otherwise. Your own gratification will induce you to shew her the
public places, and render her every service in your power; which will
be more than overpaid by associating with her; for it is indeed a
delight to be in her company. For grace and beauty of person, she has
no equal; and still less can she be equalled, by any person of her age,
for the endowments of wit and understanding. I am half angry with
myself for pretending to recommend her; when, as you will see, she can
so much more effectually recommend herself.
I have nothing to add except to say that, when my dear brother has a
moment's leisure, I shall be glad to hear from him; and that I remain
his very affectionate sister,