Three words will explain the whole.
I have been brought from Naples to Paris, not as I supposed to settle a
few paltry debts of a deceased uncle, but to see, fall in love with,
and be rib-hooked to this angel. This my good mother as I understand
thinks the kindest act of her life.--Nay, I think so too; and yet I am
not satisfied. And merely I suppose because I feel I have been tricked.
I will not be the gull of man or woman. What is it to me that they mean
me well? I will judge for myself. It is insolent in any one to pretend
to know what befits me better than I myself know.
In short, I would quarrel, and bounce, and curse a little, if I knew
how--But they offer an apology so ample, so irresistible, that there is
no demanding to exchange a shot; they present Anna St. Ives as their
excuse, and a fico for resentment.
And now there is nothing on earth for which I so earnestly wish as to
be yoked! What think you, Fairfax; shall I bear my slavish trappings
proudly? Shall I champ upon the bit, and prance, and curvet, and shew
off to advantage? I doubt I shall stand in need of a little rough
riding. And yet I know not; let her but pat me on the neck, and whisper
two or three kind epithets in my ear, and she will guide me as she
pleases: at least she does. No! Hopes there are none of my ever again
returning to my native wilds, and delightful haunts! Never was seen so
fond a booby as I am, and am likely to remain!
Nor do I believe I should grumble, had she not such a super-abundance
of discretion. She smiles upon me it is true; is all gentleness, all
benevolence; but then she does just the same to every body else. For my
part, I see no difference; except that I sometimes think she has a
kinder smile for Frank Henley than she ever yet had for me! But he is
just as discreet as herself; so that it seems impossible to be jealous.
Yet jealous I am! Ay and jealous I should be of my cat, if she were as
ready to purr and rear her back to be stroked by every coarse unwashed
hand as by mine.
Is it not a cursed shame that, when you feel a continual propensity to
quarrel with a man, he should be such a prince Prim as never to give
you an opportunity? And why have I this propensity?--I know
not!--Confound the fellow, why does he make himself so great a
favourite? Why does he not contrive to be hated a little? And then
perhaps I might be induced to love him. I dislike to have friendship or
affection forced upon me, as a duty. I abhor duties, as I do shackles
and dungeons. Let me do what I like. I leave others to examine whether
or no my conduct be rational: 'tis too much trouble for me.
This marriage is never out of my head! I wish for it, sigh for it, pray
for it, and dread it! It may well be said there is no resisting our
destiny! If I could but find out the key to her master passion--Well!
What then?--What do I want? What do I hope? To hope any thing short of
the noose is mere madness. Beside, could I think of living without
her?--No!--I would be eternally in her company, for she is eternal
novelty: she is all the world in one. She is herself a million of
individuals; and not the stale, dull repetition of the same; which is
so horrible to imagination.
One thought has struck me.--She has the utmost confidence in what she
calls the force of truth. It cannot fail! That is her constant
language. I am to be her first convert. I have humoured this whim
lately; except when my irritable fancy breaks loose, and runs riot. If
she have any folly, it is this said confidence: and whether it be one,
or be not, is more than I have yet been able to determine. But she has
furnished me with an argument, which I might carry to I know not what
extent. 'You,' I urge to her, 'you need not act with the timid and
suspicious caution of your sex. You are sure of your principle; and to
proceed with distrust and fear would prove doubt instead of certainty.'
She boldly replies,--Yes, she is sure; and therefore she speaks and
behaves with all that undisguise and sincerity which are so uncommon in
the world, and which some would deem so blameable.
She says true: she rises totally superior to the petty arts and tricks
of her sex. I seem to participate the trust which she reposes in
herself; and the confidence which she appears to place in me, when she
so openly declares all she thinks and all she means, is highly
pleasing. But, if my views were different from what they are, I doubt
whether madam Confidence might not be brought to lull madam Caution so
fast asleep, at some lucky moment or another, as to suffer me to
purloin her key, and afterward to rob her of all her treasure. Nor
should I fail, under certain circumstances, to try the experiment.
Neither is that intriguing spirit which has so long been in restless
habits of continual pursuit entirely idle. My first care as usual was
to secure the prime-minister of my charmer, whose name is Laura. The
hussey is handsome, cunning, and not without ambition. An occasional
guinea and a few warm kisses, when it was certain that all was safe,
for caution is necessary, have bound her to me. The poor fool is fond
of me, and often finds some ingenious chambermaid's excuse to pay me a
visit. It does not appear that I shall need her agency; otherwise here
she is, properly prepared to be wholly at my devotion. Anna St. Ives
affords the fancy full employment; with any other woman an amour
without plot and stratagem, attack and defence, would be too insipid to
be endured.
Not but I sometimes find my conscience reproach me, for suffering such
active talents as mine to lie concealed and unknown; being as they are
capable of acquiring renown so high. When in Italy, having even there,
in that land of artifice, rendered myself the superior of all
competitors, I used to glory in the havoc I should make on my return to
England. But this the will of fate opposes, at least for the present:
and of what duration my honeymoon is to be is more than any prescience
of mine can discover.
Write, Fairfax, and tell me freely your opinion of all this; only
remember that, if you make your calculations and conclusions from any
comparison with woman whom you have ever yet seen, they will be all
error. Tell me however what you think, and all you think.
I forgot to say that twenty thousand pounds is the sum to be paid me
down, for condescending to accept this jewel. I am informed it is
wanted, to pay off I know not what encumbrances and arrears--Pshaw!--I
care not--I have never yet troubled myself about wants, nor do I wish
to begin. My father lived fast, and died soon. Well! And is not that
better than croaking and crawling over this dirty globe, haunted by
razors, halters, and barebones, sobbing in your sleep, groaning when
awake, vegetating in sorrow, and dying in the sulks? Let me kick my
heels in mirth and sunshine. Or, if clouds intervene, let pleasure and
fancy create suns of their own. Those who like them, may find gloom and
November enough any day in the year. Tell me, Fairfax, may they not?
Write, and tell me.