_The Answer_
_Buen Retiro_
Ten thousand thanks to the most amiable of women for the letter that has
just fallen into my hands. Yes, Matilda, if my heart were pierced on
every side with darts, and my life's blood seemed ready to follow every
one of them, your enchanting epistle would be balm to all my wounds,
would sooth all my cares. Tenderest, gentlest of dispositions, where
ever burned a love whose flame was pure as thine? Where ever was truth
that could vie with the truth of Matilda? Hereafter when the worthless
and the profligate exclaim upon the artifices of thy sex, when the lover
disappointed, wrung with anguish, imprecates curses on the kind, name
but Matilda, and every murmur shall be hushed; name but Matilda, and
the universal voice of nature shall confess that the female form is the
proper residence, the genuine temple of angelic goodness.
I had upon the whole a most agreeable journey from Alicant to Madrid. It
would be superfluous to describe to a mind so well informed as yours,
the state of the country. You know how thin is its population, and how
indolent is the character of its inhabitants. Satisfied with possessing
the inexhaustible mines of Mexico and Peru, they imagine that the world
was made for them, that the rest of mankind were destined to labour that
they might be maintained in supineness and idleness. The experience of
more than two centuries has not been able to convince them of their
error, and amidst all their poverty, they still retain as much pride
as ever. The country however is naturally luxuriant and delicious; and
there are a considerable number of prospects in the provinces through
which I have passed that will scarcely yield to any that Italy has to
boast. As soon as I arrived at the metropolis I took up my residence at
this place, which is inexpressibly crowded with the residences of the
nobility and grandees. It is indeed one of the most beautiful spots in
nature, as it concentres at once the simplest rusticity with the utmost
elegance of refinement and society. My reception has been in the highest
degree flattering, and I please myself with the idea that I have already
made some progress in the business of the marquis of Pescara.
You are not insensible that my character, at least in some of its
traits, is not uncongenial to that of a Spaniard. Whether it be owing to
this or any other cause I know not, but I believe never was any man, so
obscure as myself, distinguished in so obliging a manner by the first
personages in the kingdom. In return I derive from their society the
utmost satisfaction. Their lofty notions of honour, their gravity, their
politeness, and their sentimental way of thinking, have something in
them that affords me infinite entertainment and pleasure. Oh, Matilda,
how much more amiable is that character, that carries the principles
of honour and magnanimity to a dangerous extreme, than that which
endeavours to level all distinctions of mankind, and would remove and
confound the eternal barriers of virtue and vice!
One of the most agreeable connexions I have made is with the duke of
Aranda. The four persons of whom his family is composed, his grace, the
duchess, their son and daughter, are all of them characters extremely
interesting and amiable. The lady Isabella is esteemed the first beauty
of the court of Madrid. The young count is tall, graceful, and manly,
with a fire and expression in his fine blue eyes beyond any thing I
ever saw. He has all the vivacity and enterprize of youth, without the
smallest tincture of libertinism and dissipation. I know not how it is,
but I find myself perfectly unable to describe his character without
running into paradox. He is at once serious and chearful. His
seriousness is so full of enthusiasm and originality, that it is the
most unlike in the world to the cold dogmatism of pedantry, or the
turgid and monotonous stile of the churchman. His chearfulness is not
the gaiety of humour, is not the brilliancy of wit, it is the result of
inexhaustible fancy and invincible spirit. In a word, I never met with
a character that interested me so much at first sight, and were it not
that I am bound by insuperable ties to my native soil, it would be the
first ambition of my heart to form with him the ties of an everlasting
friendship.
Once more, my Matilda, adieu. You are under the protection of the most
generous of men, and the best of friends. I owe to the marquis of
Pescara, a thousand obligations that can never be compensated. Let it be
thy care thou better half of myself to receive him with that attention
and politeness, which is due to the worth of his character, and the
immensity of his friendship. There is something too sweet and enchanting
in the mild benevolence of Matilda, not to contribute largely to
his happiness. It is in your power, best of women, by the slightest
exertions, to pay him more than I could do by a life of labour.