_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_
_London, Dover-street_
Come to my aid, Fairfax; encourage me; feed my vanity; let hungry
ambition banquet and allow me to be a hero, lest I relent: for, were I
not or Lucifer or Coke Clifton, 'tis certain I should not persevere. By
the host of heaven, Fairfax, but she is a divine creature! She steals
upon the soul! A heart of rock could not resist her! Nor are they
wiles, nor woman's lures, nor blandishments of tricksey dimples, nor
captivating smiles, with which she forms her adamantine fetters. No;
'tis the open soul of honesty; true, sincere, and unrelentingly just,
to me, to herself, to all; 'tis that enchanting kindness, that heavenly
suavity which never forsakes her; that equanimity of smiling yet
obstinate fortitude; that hilarity of heart that knows not gloom
because it knows not evil; that inscrutable purity which rests secure
that all like itself are natively immaculate; that--Pshaw!--I can find
no words, find you imagination therefore, and think not I will labour
at impossibility. You have read of ancient vestals, of the virgins
of Paradise, and of demi-deities that tune their golden harps on
high?--Read again--And, having travelled with prophets and apostles
to the heaven of heavens, descend and view her, and invent me language
to describe her, if you can!
Curse on this Frank Henley! But for him my vengeance never would have
been roused! Never would the fatal sentence have passed my lips!--'Tis
now irrevocable--Sure as the lofty walls of Troy were doomed by gods
and destiny to smoke in ruins, so surely must the high-souled Anna
fall--'Ill starred wench!'--I, Fairfax, like other conquerors, cannot
shut pity from my bosom. While I cry havoc I could almost weep; could
look reluctant down on devastation which myself had made, and heave a
sigh, and curse my proper prowess!--In love and war alike, such,
Fairfax, is towering ambition. It must have victims: its reckless
altars ask a full and large supply; and when perchance a snowy lamb,
spotless and pure, bedecked for sacrifice, in all the artless pomp of
unsuspecting innocence is brought, bright burns the flame, the white
clouds curl and mantle up to heaven, and there ambition proudly sits,
and snuffs with glut of lusty delight the grateful odour.
I know your tricks, Fairfax; you are one of the doubtful doctors; you
love to catch credulity upon your hook. I hear fat laughter gurgling in
your throat, and out bolts your threadbare simile--'Before the battle's
won the Brentford hero sings Te Deum.'--But don't be wasteful of the
little wit you have. Do I not tell you it is decreed? When was I posted
for a vapouring Hector? What but the recollections of my reiterated
ravings, resolves, threats, and imprecations could keep me steady;
assailed as I am by gentleness, benevolence, and saint-like charity?
By the agency of subtlety, hypocrisy, and fraud, I seek to
rob her of what the world holds most precious. By candour,
philanthropy and a noble expansion of heart, she seeks to render
me all that is superlatively great and good--Why did she not seek
all this in a less offensive way? Why did she oblige me to become
a disputant with a plebeian?--Disputant!--What do I say?--Worse,
worse!--Rival!--Devil!--Myriads of virtues could not atone the
crime!--Yet in this deep guilt she perseveres and glories!--Can I
forget?--Fear me not, nor rank my defeat among things possible--Be
patient and lend an ear.
To one sole object all my efforts point: her mind must be prepared, ay
so that when the question shall be put, chaste as that mind is, it
scarcely shall receive a shock. Such is the continual tendency of my
discourse. Her own open and undisguised manners are my guide. Not a
principle she maintains but which, by my cunning questions and affected
doubts pushed to an extreme, adds links to the chain in which I mean to
lead her captive.
Perhaps, Fairfax, you will tell me this is the old artifice; and that
the minds of all women, who can be said to have any mind, must thus be
inveigled to think lightly of the thing they are about to lose.
Granted. And yet the difference is infinite. They are brought to think
thus lightly of chastity: but, should you or any one of the gallant
phalanx attempt to make Anna St. Ives so think, she would presently cry
buzz to the dull blockhead, and give him his eternal dismission.
Virtue with her is a real existence, and as such must be adored. Her
passions are her slaves; and in this and this alone the lovely tyrant
is the advocate of despotism. She soon taught me that common arts would
be treated by her, not merely with determined and irrevocable repulse,
but with direct contempt. Some very feeble essays presently satisfied
me. No encroachments of the touch, no gloting of the eye, no well
feigned tremblings and lover's palpitations would for an instant be
suffered by her. Take the following as a specimen of my mode of attack.
Among her variety of hypotheses she has one on mutability. 'Little, she
says, as we know of matter and spirit, we still know enough to perceive
they are both instantaneously, eternally, and infinitely changing. Of
what the world has been, through this series of never beginning never
ending mutation, she can form nothing more than conjecture: yet she
cannot but think that the golden age is a supposition treated at
present with ridicule it does not deserve. By the laws of necessity,
mind, unless counteracted by accidents beyond its control, is
continually progressive in improvement. With some such accidents we are
tolerably well acquainted. Such are those which have been destructive
of its progress, notwithstanding the high attainments it had made in
Greece and Rome. The ruins still existing in Egypt are wonderful proofs
of what it once was there; though Egypt is at present almost unequalled
in ignorance and depravity. Who then shall affirm changes still more
extraordinary have not happened? She has no doubt, some revolution in
the planetary system excepted, that men will attain a much higher
degree of innocence, length of life, happiness, and wisdom than have
ever yet been dreamed of, either by historian, fabulist, or poet: for
causes which formerly were equal to the effects then produced are now
rendered impotent by the glorious art of printing; which spreads,
preserves, and multiplies knowledge, in despite of ignorance, false
zeal, and despotism.'
Such was her discourse, and thus vast were her views! Nay, urged on by
my questions, by the consequences which resulted from her own
doctrines, and by the ardour of emanating benevolence, she astonished
me by her sublime visions; for she proceeded to prove, from seemingly
fair deduction, 'that men should finally render themselves immortal;
should become scarcely liable to moral mistake; should all act from
principles previously demonstrated, and therefore never contend; should
be one great family without a ruler, because in no need of being ruled;
should be incapable of bodily pain or passion; and should expend their
whole powers in tracing moral and physical cause and effect; which,
being infinite in their series, will afford them infinite employment of
the most rational and delightful kind!'
Oh! How did the sweet enthusiast glow, ay and make me glow too, while,
with a daring but consistent hand she sketched out this bold picture of
illusion!
But, while the lovely zealot thus descanted on splendid and half
incomprehensible themes, what did I? Why, when I found her at the
proper pitch, when I saw benevolence and love of human kind beaming
with most ardour in her eye, and pouring raptures from her lip, I then
recalled her to her beloved golden age, her times of primitive
simplicity; made her inform me what lovers then were, and what
marriage; and what the bonds were which hearts so affectionate and
minds so honest and pure demanded of each other.
What think you could her answers to all these questions be? What but
such as I wished? Could lovers like these suspect each other? Could
they basely do the wrong to ask for bond or pledge? Or, if they wanted
the virtue to charm, could they still more basely ask rewards they did
not merit? Could they, with the wretched selfish jealousy of a modern
marriage-maker, seek to cadaverate affection and to pervert each other
into a utensil, a commodity, a thing appropriate to self and liable
with other lumber to be cast aside? No, Fairfax; she played fairly and
deeply into my hand. She created exactly such a pair of lovers as I
could have desired: for with respect to the truth and constancy with
which she endowed them, if I cannot be the thing, I can wear the garb;
ay and it shall become me too, shall sit _dégagé_ upon me, and be
thought my native dress.
Think not that I am a mere listener: far the reverse. I throw in
masterly touches, which, while they seem only to heighten her picture,
produce the full effect by me intended. Thus, when she described the
faith and truth and love of the innocents of her own creation, how did
I declaim against the abuse to which such doctrine, though immutably
true, was liable!
'Alas! madam,' said I, 'had the unprincipled youths with which these
times abound your powers of argument with their own principles, how
dreadful would be the effect! How many unsuspecting hearts would they
betray!'
I am once more just returned from the palace of Alcina! I broke off at
the end of my last paragraph to attend my charmer; and here again am I
detesting myself for want of resolution; and detesting myself still
more for having made a resolution, for having undertaken that which I
am so eternally tempted to renounce. Your sneer and your laugh are both
ready--I know you, Fairfax--'The gentleman is sounding a retreat! The
enterprise is too difficult!'--No--tell you no, no, no,--But I am
almost afraid it is too damnable!
I pretended to be exceedingly anxious concerning the delay, and
afflicted at not hearing any thing more from Sir Arthur. If I did not
do this, it might be a clue to lead her to suspect hypocrisy,
considering how very ardent I was at the commencement. And, to say the
truth, I am weary enough of waiting; though it is not my wish to be
relieved by any expedition of Sir Arthur's, who, as I hinted to you
before, does not appear to be in the least hurry, and whose unction for
the gardener's son increases.
But had you heard her console me! Had you seen her kindness! The tear
glistening in her eye while she entreated me to consider delay as a
fortunate event, which tended to permanent and ineffable happiness; had
you I say beheld her soul, for it was both visible and audible, Fairfax
though you are, the marauder of marriage land and the sworn foe of
virginity, even you would have pardoned my tergiversation.
Did you never behold the sun burst forth from behind the riding clouds?
The scene that was gloomy, dark and dismal is suddenly illumined; what
was obscure becomes conspicuous; the bleak hills smile, the black
meadows assume a bright verdure; quaking shadows dare no longer stay,
cold damps are dispelled, and in an instant all is visible, clear, and
radiant! So vanish doubts when she begins to speak! Thus in her
presence do the feelings glow; and thus is gloom banished from the
soul, till all is genial warmth and harmony!
These being my feelings now, when I am escaped, when I am beyond the
circle of her sorceries, think, Fairfax, be just and think how
seductive, how dangerous an enemy I have to encounter--Listen and
judge.
'Oh! Clifton'--She speaks! Listen I say to her spells!--'Oh! Clifton,
daily and hourly do I bless this happy accident, this delay! I think,
with the heroic archbishop, I could have held my right hand firmly till
the flames had consumed it, could I but have brought to pass what this
blessed event has already almost accomplished! To behold your mind
what it is and to recollect what it so lately was is bliss unutterable!
I consider myself now as destined to be yours: but whether I am or am
not is perhaps a thing of little moment. Let self be forgotten, and all
its petty interests! What am I? What can I be, compared to what you may
become? The patriot, the legislator, the statesman, the reconciler of
nations, the dispenser of truth, and the instructor of the human race;
for to all these you are equal. As for me, however ardent however great
my good-will, I cannot have the same opportunities. Beside I must be
just to myself and you, and it delights me to declare I believe you
have a mind capable of conceptions more vast than mine, of plans more
daring and systems more deep, and of soaring beyond me. You have the
strong memory, the keen sensibility and the rapid imagination which
form the poet. It is my glory to repeat that your various powers, when
called forth, have as variously astonished me. To bid you persevere
were now to wrong you, for I think I dare affirm you cannot retreat.
You have at present seen too much, thought too much, known too much
ever to forget. In private you will be the honour of your family and
the delight of your wife; and in public the boast of your country and
the admiration of the virtuous and the wise.'
I fell on my knee to the speaking deity! She seemed delivering oracles!
My passions rose, my heart was full, her eulogium made it loath and
abhor its own deceit; the words--'Madam, I am a villain!'--bolted to my
lips, there they quivering lingered in excruciating suspense, and at
last slunk back like cowards, half wishing but wholly ashamed to do
their office.
By the immortal powers, Fairfax, it was past resisting! Why should I
not be all she has described? The hero, the legislator, the great
leader of this little world? Ay, why not? She seemed to prophesy. She
has raised a flame in me which, if encouraged, might fertilize or
desolate kingdoms. Body of Caesar, I know not what to say!
'Tis true she has treated me ill; nay vilely. It cannot be denied. But
ill treatment itself, from her, is superior to all the maukish kindness
which folly and caprice endeavour to lavish. Fairfax, would you did but
behold her! My heart was never so assailed before!
My resolution is shaken, I own, but it is not obliterated. No; I will
think again. My very soul is repugnant to the supposition of leaving
its envenomed tumours unassuaged, and its angered stabs unavenged. Yet,
if healed they could be, she surely possesses that healing art--Once
more I will think again.
What you tell me in the Postscript to your last concerning Count Caduke
[Consult your dictionary; or to save yourself trouble read Count Crazy,
alias Beaunoir.] is wholly unintelligible to me. But as you say the
name of the gardener's son was several times mentioned by him, I shall
take an immediate opportunity of interrogating the 'squire of shrubs,
who I am certain from principle will when asked tell me all he knows.
Apropos of poetry. The panegyric of this sylph of the sun-beams gave me
an impulse which I could not resist, and the following was the
offspring of my headlong and impetuous muse; for such the hussey is
whenever the fit is upon her. I commit it as it may happen to your
censure or applause; with this stipulation, if you do not like it
either alter it till you do, or write me another which both you and I
shall like better. If that be not fair and rational barter, I know
nothing either of trade, logic, or common sense.