_Anna Wenbourne St. Ives to Louisa Clifton_
_London, Grosvenor-Street_
A fortnight has almost elapsed since I last wrote to my Louisa, till my
heart begins to cry shame at the delay. Could I plead no other excuse
than the trifling occupations of a trifling world I must sign my own
condemnation; but your brother has afforded me better employment. Our
frequent conversations on many of the best and most dignified of moral
enquiries, his acute remarks and objections, and the difficult problems
he has occasionally given me to solve, have left me in no danger of
being idle.
Oh, Louisa, how exquisite is the pleasure I feel, to see him thus
determined, thus incessant in his pursuit! A change so fortunate and so
sudden astonishes while it delights!--May it continue!--May it
increase!--May?--Vain unworthy wish!--It must--The mind having once
seized on the clue of truth can neither quit its hold nor become
stationary; it is obliged to advance. And when its powers are equal to
those of Coke Clifton, ought we to wonder at its bold and rapid
flights?
Still the conquests he daily makes over his own feelings cannot but
surprise. His struggles are evident, but they are effectual. He even
resolutely casts off the strong prejudices he had conceived against
Frank Henley, invites him to aid us in our researches, and appeals to
him to explain and decide.
'Let us if we wish to weed out error be sincere in our efforts, and
have no remorse for our prejudices.'
This is his own language, Louisa! Oh that I could fully communicate the
pleasure this change of character gives me to my friend. Yes, the
restraint which too frequent contradiction lays him under will soon
wear off, and how great will then be the enthusiasm with which he will
defend and promulgate truth!
Nor is it less delightful to observe the satisfaction which this reform
sometimes gives to Frank Henley. At others indeed he owns he is
disturbed by doubt: but he owns it with feelings of regret, and is
eager to prove himself unjust.
Yet respecting me his thoughts never vary--Alas! Louisa, I still 'am
his by right.' His tongue is silent, but his looks and manner are
sufficiently audible. I surely have been guilty of the error I so much
dreaded; my cause was strong, but my arguments were feeble; I have
prolonged the warfare of the passions which I attempted to eradicate;
or rather have left on his mind a deep sense of injustice committed by
me--! The thought is intolerable!--Excruciating!
But oh with what equanimity, with what fortitude does he endure his
imagined wrongs! Pure most pure must that passion be which at once
possesses the strength of his and his forbearance! There are indeed but
few Frank Henleys!
Surely, Louisa, I may do him justice?--Surely to esteem the virtuous
cannot merit the imputation of guilt?--Who can praise him as he
deserves? And can that which is right in others be wrong in me?--Yet
such are the mistakes to which we are subject, I scarcely can speak or
even think of him without suspecting myself of committing some culpable
impropriety!
Pardon, Louisa, these wanderings of the mind! They are marauders which
uniform vigilance alone can repel. They are ever in arms, and I obliged
to be ever alert. But it is petty warfare, and cannot shake the
dominion of truth.
My feelings have led me from the topic I intended for the chief subject
of this letter.
The course of our enquiries has several times forced us upon that great
question, 'the progress of mind toward perfection, and the different
order of things which must inevitably be the result.' Yesterday this
theme again occurred. Frank was present; and his imagination, warm with
the sublimity of his subject, drew a bold and splendid picture of the
felicity of that state of society when personal property no longer
shall exist, when the whole torrent of mind shall unite in enquiry
after the beautiful and the true, when it shall no longer be diverted
by those insignificant pursuits to which the absurd follies that
originate in our false wants give birth, when individual selfishness
shall be unknown, and when all shall labour for the good of all.
A state so distant from present manners and opinions, and apparently so
impossible, naturally gave rise to objections; and your brother put
many shrewd and pertinent questions, which would have silenced a mind
less informed and less comprehensive than that of our instructor.
At last a difficulty arose which to me wore a very serious form; and as
what was said left a strong impression on my memory, I will relate that
part of the conversation. Observe, Louisa, that Clifton and Frank were
the chief speakers. Your brother began.
I confess, sir, you have removed many apparently unconquerable
difficulties: but I have a further objection which I think
unanswerable.
What is it?
Neither man nor woman in such a state can have any thing peculiar: the
whole must be for the use and benefit of the whole?
As generally as practice will admit: and how very general that may be,
imperfect as its constitution was, Sparta remained during five hundred
years a proof.
Then how will it be possible, when society shall be the general
possessor, for any man to say--_This is my servant?_
He cannot: there will be no servants.